#If i could share it without the chance of getting sniped i would

[gearchronocle]

this OPENING man. THIS OPENING. GOES SO INCREDIBLY HARD. FOR NO REASON. it should be illegal to have a song this good in a funny haha silly little comedy anime. I'm going crazy why is it so good. kaidou why r u going so hard on the vocals for NO!! REASON !!!

the fact that it's kaidou singing keeps me up at night. you go lil chuuni boy. eat that up like a full course meal and leave no crumbs not even the plate

[princessozera]

so, random thought, there's a good chance the demon bros inadvertently harmed mc in some capacity just because human and demon limits are so vastly different, and the main human any have had contact with is Solomon, whose humanity is somewhat debatable. mc might act like they're invincible, but they are human in the end, and human durability is largely that we can keep going after almost any injury, not that we don't get injured

like Lucifer strings them up as he would his brothers, forgetting (assume he's really tired or stressed or whatever) that doing so puts a lot of pressure on the body and can cause actual damage instead of just being annoying like it is to his brothers. depending on how exactly he ties them up it'd change the effects but it's never gonna be great for them

Mammon running away from shenanigans with them and he tugs on their hand a bit too hard and fast to get them safely around a corner and dislocates their shoulder in the process because force = mass x speed and Mammon is a speedy boy. or he's running from Lucifer and slams into them at top speed, and if they can't protect their head from the wall/floor you know Mams is freaking out because mc is all out of it and there's so much blood and he doesn't care how Lucifer punishes him as long as he makes sure mc is alright

otaku Levi with his nonexistent sleep schedule doesn't realise just how badly sleep deprivation affects humans. paranoia, weakened immune system, depersonalisation, all the way to sleep deprivation psychosis. you go 96 hours or 4 days without sleep and lemme tell you, you ain't properly attached to reality anymore. been there, done that, would not recommend. there were bugs crawling all over my arms and legs and shadow people whispering. fucking sucked, and I was constantly shaking so I kept dropping stuff

if anyone knows about human durability, at least in theory, it's Satan, but the avatar of wrath can be emotionally charged. he really didn't mean to hurt them, but he was trying so hard not to lose it that day and as he led mc out of his room so they wouldn't be caught in the inevitable explosion, his deadly sharp claws nicked their skin. the wounds were mostly superficial— hurt like a bitch but no major arteries were damaged— but there was quite a lot of blood and Satan felt sick in a way he never had before. humans scar easily, a useful trait to close open wounds quickly, but Satan hates that he was the cause of those raised lines

Asmo is probably best at remembering since he hangs out with Solomon and has had human lovers before, but he is mostly around Solomon who cannot die. so he doesn't always remember what is and isn't toxic for humans, especially since a lot of poisons are used in medicines at lower doses and a lot of things we need to live are poisonous if we consume enough. it'd only take one slip up to put mc in hospital, and of course they don't blame him but he begs Satan to teach him as much as he can so it never happens again

you know Beel would try his best to remember, and he'd feel horribly guilty if he ever hurt mc, but he's big and strong even by demon standards and can eat anything that isn't Solomon's cooking. there's a few ways this one could go— sharing food with them that's toxic to humans, hugging them a bit too hard, mc giving him their food and going hungry, they work out together and they get hurt... take your pick

and Belphie knows all too well how fragile mc is, so he's very careful with his demonic strength around them. he already killed them once with barely any effort. but one day he wakes up from napping with mc to find he held them too hard and they're bruising. maybe his arm curled around their neck as it bloomed black and blue once again. Belphie doesn't nap with them for a while after that

! ANON! 💕💕💕💕

I don't know how you sniped me from across the highway but whump/injuries are exactly my cup of obsession and I've thought about this forever- i just never really had enough to make a full post. I LOVE your ideas and I hope you dont mind me bouncing some of my own off them;

----

Lucifer and his funny little habit of hanging his brothers 💕 Say he takes pity on MC, makes sure they're right side up, nothing around the neck and only tied beneath the arms and around the legs. Plans to take them down in 5 minutes, really it was meant to be the pet equivalent of air jail. But a call here, difficulties there and 5 minutes turn to 10 and then it slips to 15. It's so little time, absolutely nothing compared to the nights he's left Mammon up over the banister.

So why are there screams in the hall? Why are Asmo, Mammon and Levi on the phone with Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon respectively? He doesn't understand why they don't immediatley drop MC down, only catching the tail end of Solomon explaing something called "suspension trauma" to Asmo. When they do get MC down, even from a distance he can see the color is almost completely gone from their face, while their legs are a few shades darker. He watches Satan mouth out the count for MC's pulse, quick and staggering. When MC wakes, they can't seem to take a proper breath- gasping, clutching their chest, tearing up and confused. There isn't much more any of them can do, other than stand back and hand MC over to Barbatos and Solomon.

----

In a movie, it would be considered slapstick comedy, the way that Mammon skid around a corner full speed, carpet pulling under his feet , hip checking the wall as he ran away from Lucifer. In a movie it would be hilarious they way him and MC crashed, sending them literally flying back, head bouncing off the wall, swirls in their eyes and stars dancing around their head. In a movie they would only need to shake it off and get up to yell at him, with Lucifer standing back and watching in smug satisfaction.

But there wasn't anything funny about this, MC slumped in his arms, blood turning his tshirt into a darker shade of black, making it tacky and stick onto his skin. They're awake, sort of? But their pupils aren't the same size, and the speech is slurred. There's a truce as Lucifer heals MC, and they get them to a proper doctor.

Mammon gets better at ducking and weaving around MC, it even helps him evade Lucifer better. But MC doesn't escape the dislocated shoulders, and unwanted popping of their knuckles when Mammon holds their hand too hard. Neither had known that after the first dislocation, its a lot easier to dislocate your should again. It's never intentional, but it always hurts- MC tries to breathe through it if there is an urgency, but Mammon catches the way they pointedly look away, trying to blink the tears away, and knows that he's- once again- failed to keep MC out of harm.

---------

Levi being MC's energy drink dealer. He doesnt know why they dont but their own, but he has plenty so he ultimately doesnt mind sharing. They're not attached at the hip so he doesnt see how little sleep MC is getting, a single can carrying them through 2 whole days. They know its time to 1-up again when their heart stops sounding like helicopter blades.

He finds them on the floor of their room, rubbing their arms raw with the hard bristle brush Asmo uses to buff his horns, babbling incoherently to themselves.

-----

With Satan the physical is NEVER intentional, as much as he used to rage in the early days of the fall, the thought of hurting MC didn't sit well with him. But tiny nicks are so easy to cause when even his regular nails are sharper than a humans'. If MC can keep their reactions subtle, it wont be until Satan is laying in their lap that he notices the "freckles" on their arms don't quite lay flat.

When you're used to fast reflexes, you don't think twice about slamming a door in someone's face. Someone (MC) who was too close and now has a broken, bloody nose. Now whenever the snore in their sleep, or their nose whistles when they laugh too hard, Satan remembers opening the door to MC doubled over, blood leaking from between their fingers as they tried to put pressure on the bridge of their nose.

-------

Dosage and concentration.

Asmo is vaugely familiar with these terms- SPF strength, alcohol proofing, acidity in his skin care. He's had so many spa nights with Solomon that he doesn't think twice about sharing his skin care routine with MC as well. Powders, gels, creams, exfoliants. Some a bit too harsh, MC's skin turns warm and flush, so he thinks their skin is sensitive. He'd ask for help caring for his wings and horns. MC goes in with their bare hands to get a good scrub, attributing the burn to the rough edges and upturned edges of Asmo's horns. It feels like icyhot, so it must be working. When they're done, Asmo tries to take the rest of the cream off their hands to apply to his hands, but they both scream as a visible layer of skin from MC starts peeling off as well. The acid having fulling numbed and killed off most of the senses in MC's hand, had started to deteriorate the skin, and its by some small blessing that MC hadnt already applied it to their face. It takes a panicked called to Solomon to get the feeling back into MC's hands, but it still takes weeks for the skin to grow back on to their hands. The pain of bandages on raw muscle is excruciating, and Asmo sticks to them like glue, fully taking the blame for their condition.

-----

Beel and Belphie have another trauma to share as twins- nearly killing MC in their sleep! Beel doesnt understand how heavy an unconcious body can be, and being as large as he is, this becomes a problem the first time him and MC share a bed. He falls asleep with an arm draped over them, but exhaustion from practice has him rolling on to them. Even if not entirely covering them, the weight on their chest makes it hard to breathe and MC soon drops nicities and is trying their damnest to get him off or at least wake him up. Its a panicked use of the pacts to call another brother that saves them, and Beel cant sleep for the rest of the night.

Belphie doesn't have as many night terrors these days, but they can still get bad. Usually sleeping with MC can keep these dreams at bay, but on nights that they dont, he wakes up to find MC tossed onto the floor or squeezed between him and the wall. On the worsts of these nights, he woke up to MC screaming, having wrapped a hand and tail so tightly around their arm that it shattered in 2 places.

(Can I also offer a beel and belphie alternative: MC wanting to match Beel's stamina/ gym workout time and getting muscle deterioration. Belphie wanting a sleeping partner so he messes up their sleeping cycles, 10+ hrs asleep, accidentally depriving them of light, water, and food, causing a depressive episode)

[void-punktactics]

Fight Club

Shout out as always to @krillissue and @dastardlydandy for letting their little guys have a playdate with my little guy! Welcome to the second instalment of pure fan service (the fans being me and my two actual fans) oc bullshit. I had a great time writing this.

TW for violence as should be expected from something titles Fight Club

Beretta was smart, Beretta made good decisions. Beretta

was going to break that son of a bitch’s nose if he didn’t get away from their brother.

They weren’t being paranoid, it wasn’t an unhealthy paranoia. This time. “August” as he was now called couldn’t be trusted. Not by Beretta and not around Viper. Not around the one thing they managed to keep. It didn’t help that apparently that goddamn worm was hanging around too. Something to worry about later. Right now their concern was on the white haired man they shared a table with.

“So…Beretta? That’s an interesting name-” He’d been trying to make conversation for the past hour, regardless of the failures.

“Do you wanna fight?” They finally interrupted, putting him out of his misery.

“What?” He blinked, a little owlish.

“Fight, big man. Do you wanna have a go in the ring? I’ve been dying for a challenge and you seem like my first shot at one.” And they’d love a chance to show off just what they could do when they were trying.

Viper leaned in close to August, his whisper hardly that. “Say no. She’s insane.” His grin said he didn’t mean it. It still stuck a cord but they brushed it off to raise an eyebrow at August.

A challenge.

“I’m tellin’ you Jangles. She bites, might have rabies.” Viper chuckled, elbowing Beretta in the side until they grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Just enough to hold, not to hurt.

“I’ll show you rabies.” They bite at the air with a wicked grin.

“Sure. I guess we can go a round.” August cut in.

“Great! It’ll be fun. Some no holds barred fun.” Beretta’s grin turned its attention to August.

“Maybe a little holds barred?” He downed the rest of his drink and stood.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Auggie.” They sniped back.

Paying their tab the three head down to where the fights were starting to die down. It was late in the night and most of the action was over. The ring was clear long enough for Beretta to jump down and claim it for the next fight.

They tossed their jacket up to Viper and made a show of cracking their knuckles. The look he gave them read clear, he didn’t think they’d win. Not without a pity throw. But he hadn’t seen Beretta fight and he couldn’t remember their track record for breaking sparring partners.They’d show him, they would show everyone. It had been a while since Beretta had someone think they were weak and they soaked in the feeling of being underestimated.

They clue back into the fight just in time to dodge out of the way of a fist. They duck under his arm and spin around, kicking him in the back of his knees.

He stumbles but doesn’t fall, whipping around and aiming another punch, Beretta lets it hit. It sends them stumbling back a few steps but it was a weak hit. He was definitely holding back.

“Don’t go easy on me, Nash. Ain’t fun if only one of us is trying.” They taunt, darting forward and putting their elbow in his gut.

It’s his turn to stumble, he may not be Eye anymore but he’s still strong. Stronger than he acts. “It’s not fun if I hurt my friend's sister either. I don’t wanna hear about how annoying it was putting you back together.”

“Boooo. Come on. Fight me!” They duck another punch. “Lazarus.”

The next punch connects and it hurts. It hurts and it's the best feeling in the world. Beretta grins with blood on their teeth and they know that despite the lost memories Lazarus had not lost his abilities.

The fight turns bloody after that. Beretta turns to tooth and nail to work around being outmatched in strength but they weren’t built to be muscle. The good doctor designed them better than that. But there was only so long they could outsmart someone like August Nash. And it was always a tricky thing to put down a man already dead.

They lose. It’s inevitable and Beretta is hauled up out of the ring on their opponents shoulder with a wild smile on their face and blood running from their nose. They would be bruised in a few hours, their nose broken, definitely confused from when they had hit the ground at some point.

It had been a damn good fight.

August dropped them in a chair next to Viper, he had kicked out the last medic for the sake of treating them himself. He had on a knowing little smile, what exactly he knew Beretta’s head hurt too much to figure it out but it was certainly something he was going to be smug about later.

“Told ya’. Rabies”

“Shut it, doc. I think I went a little too hard on her…” He nudged her back into sitting from where they had flopped against his shoulder.

“I c’n take it. C’mon, back in th’ ring big shot. I’ll show ya’.” They slurred, trying to stand only for August to push them gently back into their seat. For how he was treating them now you wouldn’t think he was the one that had done this to them. The thought made Beretta giggle to themselves.

Once bandages and ice had been applied August dismissed himself back to his graveyard for the night. Beretta watched him go with a sigh. 

Viper’s grin was decidedly gloating. “You like him dont you.”

“Tolerate…he ain't half bad.”

[theocrabalar]

Guns we never got to use in Metal Gear Solid 2

So, instead of gushing over how amazing MGS2 is, let's get down to brass tacks and immediately nerd out over what we didn't get. First off, let's start at the beginning. Olga Gurlukovich, the woman who's the sole reason I start making monkey noises when I see a woman in super baggy pants with suspenders hanging down. She carries a PSS pistol;

The PSS is a silent semi-automatic pistol, this pistol gets tossed overboard before the player can get a chance to use it. If in use by the Gurlukovich mercenaries, we could imagine it would be a pistol with very scarce ammo, but also highly effective, being semi-auto. Probably considered a lethal option to the XM9.

Next up, we have the NRS2. No good in-game picture available, so a picture of the real thing will do;

This highly unusual knife gun, which is fired with the blade pointed towards yourself. For gameplay, this could probably be used for focus on close quarters fighting, but with a possibility of shooting at something in the distance without needing to swap weapons. It would certainly be an interesting option that could make gameplay varied.

Next up, the Colt Single Action Army revolver.

"This is the greatest handgun ever made. The Colt Single Action Army. Six bullets. More than enough to kill anything that moves." It's clear that MGS3 figured out, holy shit, this gun is cool and we need to let the player use it. Especially, with how they added gameplay features to it, they decided to give the gun the ability to ricochet bullets so you can trickshot your way through Tselinogorsk. The same mindset in MGS2 could have made for some really interesting choices considering all the fancy indoor areas and hallways. There's also no proper magnum handgun for the player in MGS2, so if you want a handgun that can blast away common enemies in a single shot to the chest, this could have been it.

Sergei Gurlukovich himself pulls a Makarov on Scott Dolph during the tanker chapter. This would been a basic sidearm for the mercenaries and is understandably cut, it's a gun that it's difficult to make exciting for the player as it would performed the same as the USP, but lower capacity and no laser and no silencer. Then again, it could have been added purely for variety's sake. Which is always good to make something feel vast and a real universe.

"Laugh and grow fat" This one would be interesting in-game for the player. Provided it would be somewhat controllable for skilled players, and sharing ammo with the USP, it could be a hog for churning through your ammo and low range, but if used up closed, you could definitely do some solid bursts of damage. What magazine the gun would have, would definitely help decide if you could bursts a few enemies before reloading, or needing to reloading between every enemy.

This is another special one. It's already very special that a russian mercenary group would use a western shotgun such as the SPAS-12. It also features a combination pump and semi-automatic mechanism. This could in theory allow the player to change the firerate. Who knows for what purpose, there could be some video game logic like how they can only use the really powerful ammunition with a pump-action, and have the less damaging ammo be spammable with the semi-automatic mechanism. Or, they could skip that and make the shotgun be only pump or only semi, and then focus on how it works in that way. It definitely opens up a world of weird gameplay options.

Here's a weird one, a rail gun. MGS2 is a stealth game. I realize that, and I really like it. But it really suffers in the department of being able to do things at a distance outside of set pieces set up for sniping. It would definitely be a New Game Plus type of gun, maybe given out for playing through the game while helping or tranq'ing birds, not killing them. It would definitely be a great gun for taking out bosses. It was later implemented in Peace Walker, but required quite the team effort to use it efficiently. Clearly, the developers also loved this magnificent piece of art and weaponry in game.

Here's another fun one. Assuming it would be a counter to the M4 later available in-game, the AN94, could possibly given the hyper-burst option, making it fire two rounds per trigger press in an insane fire rate. Looking at how the gun has a light or laser mounted onto it's front gas port/gas block, it looks really close to be able to be used by the player already.

Here's a gun that is really known for being cut content. The French FAMAS. How it made it's way to the tanker or plant would be difficult to imagine considering it was supposed to be only for the genome soldiers in Alaska in MGS1. It would occupy the same purpose as the AKS74u and the M4 as well, so it wouldn't add anything new to the player, but it would feel familiar for returning MGS1 players. While not correct, the gun could have had a three round burst to differentiate it, like how it does in Counter-Strike 1.6 which is what I really know it from, form these days.

The FN P90. What a wonderful PDW. Again, another gun that's understandable that we don't have access to, as it wouldn't contribute much, but would also clutter an already weird to navigate inventory. It's equipped with the original old red dot sight, so in first person view, that would actually be very different for regular players of first person shooters with iron sights from these days.

Here's a really weird one, the SPP-1M Underwater pistol. Wait what? So in the original design of MGS2, there was an even greater focus on the underwater parts of the gameplay, even more fighting. Which explains why someone would suggest adding an pistol focused on underwater fighting. Probably also related to the cut Dead Cell member who went by the name "Chinaman" who was an olympic level swimmer, and if Vamp's boss fight wasn't annoying enough, I can totally see the need for a gun in that section. There is leftover code in the game that suggest this got quite far in development for player use, the gun itself as far as I know, don't have a model in-game.

And here for the last firearm that should/could have been available to the player. The M203 grenade launcher. It's very clearly shown off in several cutscenes, being used by both the Navy Seals when confronting Fortune, as well as Snake Plissken;

How this would be utilized in-game would be interesting. Could definitely be a very viable boss-encounter weapon with it's full-auto capability from the M4, and then being able to somehow quickly switch over to using the grenade launcher. So in conclusion, many of this firearms were considered, but when we think about it, we can also clearly understand why much of it was cut, so there would be less work to do on bland equipment, so the developers could rather focus and shine up all the equipment that is actually interesting gameplay wise.

Most images blatantly stolen/copied from IMFDB.org, MetalGear.fandom.com and Wikipedia.

[skellebonez]

Hey! This is my first time doing this ! But can you wirte a scenario where in Winter's cursed AU where MK's parents try to come back and get custody again?( With prompt 14 and 45) With protective monkey dads? Have a great rest of your day! 💕

Thank you so much, I hope you like this as your first fill! It was very enjoyable to write since I had this idea months ago but never had the chance to put it down. But you’re gonna get a little more than just protective monkey dads! This is set pretty far into @winterpower98 's AU so he has a lot of people behind him.

Am I scaring you?/You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

It didn’t take much guessing to figure out exactly what had made MK look like he wanted to run for the hills the second he picked up his phone. There were only a few very specific scenarios that could make him react like that now. But it was the way his face hardened and his whisper yelled into it that made Pigsy realize exactly who they were dealing with without the young man saying who it was.

Again.

“This is the third time you’ve gotten a new number for this,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “I’ve told you already, the answer is no.”

"Tang," Pigsy whispered, nudging his favorite freeloader to get his attention better. "Go keep an eye outside. The last time they did this they showed up an hour later. If they do we're shuttering the shop early."

"On it," Tang said with a nod, standing with another nod to MK as he left.

"I am an adult, you cannot do anything to- yes I'm sure. Yes... yes, because I have a lawyer now mom!"

MK’s tone of voice made Pigsy smirk proudly. Had this been a few years ago MK would have had so much difficulty even just talking back to his parents, going quiet and shrinking into himself. Now?

He was standing up straight, speaking firmly and calmly, raising his voice a bit even. In the years Pigsy had known the young man he had changed drastically when it came to his parents. His and Tang’s attempts to raise his confidence and teach him to speak up for himself had certainly helped in that regard, but his attained abilities and strength as the Monkie Kid had no doubt given him a boost as well.

Not to mention the knowledge that not only did he have two father figures behind him... he had four (granted, Pigsy had mixed feelings for many reasons about both of them, but he’d warmed up to them when he saw how much MK had grown attached to them). Add Sandy, Mei, and Red Son to the mix?

He had a powerful group behind him to support him in whatever he needed.

"What do you mean you're already here?" MK said suddenly, drawing Pigsy's attention back from his inner thoughts.

"Whoa, hey, I said you can’t go in there!" Tang's voice suddenly rang through the entrance as someone pushed him backwards into the shop. He stumbled, almost falling flat on his rear and just barely catching himself on the counter. "You've been banned from this establishment and you know i-"

"MK," the woman who entered said as she closed her flip phone shut with a snap.

A man entered behind her, matching her in simple modern fashion. He shared MK's hair while the woman shared his eyes. It was obvious who they were to anyone seeing the three of them together.

Tang turned, shooting Pigsy a quick sorry that was met with an easy smile and a nod before the chef scowled at the two of them.

"... mom, dad," MK replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. He stood at his full height, back straight and no sign of hesitation on his face. "I told you, I'm not coming home."

"And we told you that we realized we made a mistake," his mother said, voice soft but with a softly uncertain undertone to it. Like she didn't quote believe her own words but was convincing herself otherwise. "Please, let us make it right."

"You had plenty of time to make it right all the times I tried to contact you before I became the Monkie Kid," MK said easily, practiced and firm. "Besides, I'm an adult now. You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do."

"You may technically be an adult," MK's mother said with a sigh, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "But you’re still my child."

Pigsy jumped in front of her, a sharp glare his only weapon. He knew better than to threaten these two, much like some of his more rowdy customers, but he would still put himself bodily between the young man he viewed as a son and anyone making him uncomfortable when he had the ability to do so.

"If you so much as breathe on my kid-"

"But he's not your kid now is he, pig man," MK's father sniped back, venom dripping from ever word and making the entire restaurant freeze in response.

"Excuse me," a new voice called out from behind them, a figure pressing a firm hand on his shoulder. "What were you saying to my brother?"

The reaction was instantaneous. MK’s father jumping to the side with a yelp, turning to come face to face with a less than pleasantly smiling Sun Wukong and a scowling Macaque behind him, neither bothering to keep up any semblance of a human disguise at the moment.

"I believe my student made it clear to you multiple times that he is an adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to live with," he said coldly, moving to stand beside Pigsy with his fur raised and teeth barred in a way that could be mistaken for a smile. It certainly wasn't one if you knew anything about monkeys, though.

"Scram," Macaque chimed in, voice lower and far more threatening than anyone else in the building as he took a step forward. Though his words were fewer his tone was stronger and held just as much weight.

MK's parents took a step back in turn, stepping back into the entryway itself.

"Y-you may be his mentor," MK's mother started, her tone losing the odd uncertainty under it and gaining a frustration and confusion instead. "But I'm his mother."

"Who left him to his own devices and didn't even try to show interest in reconnecting until he made something of himself," Macaque snapped, snapping his teeth together in a warning bite as he took another step forward with a growl.

His parents stumbled back out of the shop, eyes wide and watching as MK was surrounded on either side by 4 others. Pigsy and Tang on his right, Wukong and Macaque on his left.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a chuckle, letting out a noise of surprise when Wukong's tail touched his arm.

"I think he's got this now," Wukong said with a soft smile.

"Mom, dad," MK said with his voice still firm and sure. "I'm not coming back home with you. I'm an adult and you can't force me to come back. And if you keep trying like this I'll never give you the chance to let me chose to on my own."

The duo looked at their son, his father's eyes wide in shock and disbelief and his mother's eyes much the same with an undercurrent of... something. Something none of them could really place.

"I think we s-"

“You are not good people!" MK's dad snapped, standing up to his full height to tower over everyone else. "I caution you against this! This is your last chance to accept the damage you’ve caused! And if MK does not go back with us I will have no choice but to take further action! I will be contacting my lawyer to open a lawsuit against you and further more this will ruin your life with insurmountable debt!”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest in his assured victory as everyone else stared at him in shock and disbelief. Including his wife, who looked even more incredulous than any of them.

"D-debt?" MK eventually managed to get out, an unbelieving smile forming on his face. Before he started to laugh and march forward. "Debt? DEBT!? FUCK your debt! We'll take our chances DAD, Monkey King has a treasure trove and the best lawyer in all of China so take your debt and STUFF IT!" He raised both middle fingers toward his parents before jumping up to grab the handle of the shutter door and slam is shut before either of his parents could rush back in.

"INSURMOUNTABLE DEBT!" He yelled one last time, almost manically before sitting at a nearby table and covering his face with his hands as he burst into laughter. "I-I just- you can't threaten the Monkey King of all people with financial problems how am I related to this man!?"

The two pairs of parental figures looked at each other before laughing themselves, finding it difficult not to follow in MK's lead given how ridiculously that tense situation ended.

"You handled that pretty damn well, MK," Wukong said with proud smile as he ruffled his student’s hair.

"It's a lot easier when I know I have a bunch of dads and pops to back me up," he replied with a smile.

[reidyoulikeabook]

Right Where You Left Me

Ship: BAU! Gender Neutral! reader x Spencer Reid

#Request - Could you do some angst with “you dont deserve my forgiveness?” Any ship!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, injury (not serious), angst, mourning, a lot of tears. Also, swearing, anger, fighting (verbal, not physical.)

Summary: You and Spencer Reid had been together for a year before he ‘died.’ You grieved him. You mourned him.

A/N: Title stolen from my (current) favourite Taylor Swift song. Not sure how I feel about this one but! Here it is anyway! My requests are open & pls feel free to let me know what you think!!

14 days and 30 minutes exactly

You don’t think about the day Spencer Reid died. You can’t, because even remembering he’s dead feels as if an ice bucket has been tipped over your head. Not even now, two weeks later, have you really gotten over the initial shock that you felt. Every waking moment felt like you were trying to solve some kind of never-ending puzzle. Each emotion was overwhelming, too much to process. It felt like things would only start to get better, like everybody promised they would, when you started to be able to name the emotions rather than describe them as the physical sensations they brought on.

And you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.

The shared apartment was too much. You hadn’t slept in your bed since he’d been gone, and forbid anyone else from going into the bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

You understood now more than ever why victims families never changed a thing about the room of their loved ones. Every single thing felt deliberate. Theirs. It was a reflection of the time they were most alive, living. A unique snapshot of them in motion. The mess they left that they expected to come home to.

Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a sock hanging off Spencer’s bedside table, or a clean cardigan balled up on the floor, for any reason other than he’d been in a rush that morning, and had left an uncharacteristically large mess in his wake. In more ways than one.

***

2 months, 5 days, 8 hours

Being back at work helps somewhat, but the office feels empty without him there to ramble off factoids about anything and everything, to hear Morgan calling him ‘kid’ every five minutes. He only called you that now.

Simmons is nice, really he is. It isn’t his fault he’s there in place of Spencer and you try hard not to feel personally aggrieved by his presence. He doesn’t do anything to antagonise you, he stays out of your way more than anything. You don’t do anything to purposely make him uncomfortable: you do try to be agreeable and make small talk. But it’s hard not to look at him without thinking how, if everything was how it should be, Spencer would be stood in his place.

***

3 months, 26 days, 3 hours.

There is no ‘new normal.’ You’ve heard the term tossed around a few times in relation to grief, but if there is a new normal you’re still struggling to find it. When you’re not on cases, there’s no ‘normal’. You still don't sleep in your own bed. Sometimes you stay on Rossi’s, or Morgan’s, or Garcia’s couch. Sometimes, read: maybe once, it’s in the spare room at the place you and Spencer used to share. Sometimes, when you get worried about being a burden, it’s a hotel. It’s easier to feel as if you’re choosing to stay away from home, rather than acknowledging that home, as you understand it, no longer exists.

You still wake up and instinctually search for Spencer most mornings. Sure, work is keeping you occupied and you smile a little more these days. You even allowed yourself to be dragged out for drinks last weekend. But nothing feels like it should. You don’t know if that’s normal for grief or if you just aren’t moving forward at all, doomed to tread yourself deeper into the melancholic quicksand that’s got a hold on you.

You talk at length about it with Garcia over wine one night.

“Nothing feels right,” you admit, “Everything just feels...”

Garcia waits, just tipping her chin slightly to encourage you to continue. She’s got the counsellor act down and you’d have the decency to feel embarassed if you weren’t just so damn exhausted all the time.

“I feel trapped, I guess. Like I’m frozen. I keep thinking maybe it’ll get better once the trials over. Once the whole legal aspect of it is over and put to bed, then maybe I’ll have some closure on the whole situation,” you mumble, “I just don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel like I’ve moved forward. And I know it’s only been three months but I’ve only stayed at our apartment twice and I can’t bring myself to move any of his things and...”

She just waits. In that moment, you’re so grateful for her.

“I’m stuck here. I can’t change anything. I can’t bring myself to move any of his things. I’m paying rent on a place I don’t live in but I can’t move because how can I live somewhere he’s never been? I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t move out of the world he lived in but the world is moving on even without him. And I’m just...I’m just here, Garcia.”

She nods sympathetically, placing her hand on your arm, “Maybe it’ll help when the case is wrapped up. When you have that closure.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she says, gently, “And you don’t have to say it. But if you’re holding back because you feel guilty then you don’t have to feel guilty about anything you say to me, my darling.”

You start to well up then. The pressure in your chest is heavy, something akin to guilt. It slices into your chest, cut glass sitting between your ribs and slicing you open every time you breathe in. You’ve been thinking it a lot lately. Too much. It’s making you feel awful and you can’t decide if putting it out into the world verbally is going to be a release or make it feel too real.

Garcia waits patiently.

You decide to believe it’ll be the former, then whisper, “I wish I loved him less. I wish I’d loved him less so this wouldn’t hurt as much.”

And then the sobs come. The sobs that wrack your chest and sting your eyes and leave you looking like you’ve been on the receiving end of an upper cut. Because how could you? How could you possibly want to take back any of the love you had so willingly, freely, given to the person you loved most? What kind of person did it make you to want to take back the good memories: to wish that instead of having waffles on the couch that last Sunday, you’d had a fight about the library fine he’d gotten because of you? How could you want to switch the puzzle pieces to create a less idyllic picture of your life together, just so you wouldn’t feel so much loss when you looked at it?

She just rubs your back through it, knowing that no words can help but still saying the thing she thinks you need to hear most, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sugar plum. That makes you human.”

***

4 months, 6 days, 14 hours.

Hotch calls you all into the briefing room.

“A few months ago a decision had to be made. Somebody had the potential to make an incredible breakthrough on a case that had been airtight for years. But it wasn’t possible for that individual to complete that work without cover. They needed to be officially gone,” Hotch’s voice booms but you swear you can hear a hesitation, “It wasn’t necessary at the time for you to have that information. Providing you with it would have compromised the safety of one of our agents, and the integrity of their investigation.”

You glance around the room, confused, noticing everyone is sharing the same bewildered look. Except Emily.

“I apologise completely for having to keep this from you, it was a decision that was not taken lately, and I did not have the final say. That being said, any discontent about this decision should be directed towards me,” he glances towards Emily, and she’s looking nervous now.

Hotch lets out a huff, somehow more tense than usual, “SSA Reid was not killed after the attack in Seattle. That was his cover, but he was investigating a case.”

He’s still talking but you can’t hear anything. SSA Reid was not killed. SSA Reid was not killed. You flip the sentence over a hundred times. And for the millionth time since SSA Reid was killed, you have no idea what you feel.

There’s uproar from everybody. Shouting. And then Hotch says something and everybody is looking at you, scanning you for a reaction and you have nothing. Nothing at all.

“Hi,” a voice from the doorway, nervous and shy, a voice you’ve only heard in dreams and voicemails and recordings from nights out that you must have watched hundreds of times by now, if they were tapes you would have worn them out long ago.

And you know you can’t face him. You can’t face any of them.

You look around the room, first at Hotch whose eyes flicker with what looks like remorse. Then, at Emily who just looks guilty as all hell. You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him.

The tension in the room is palpable but in your peripheral you see Garcia and J.J flock to the doorway, embracing him.

Rossi, is the one who comes to you, “____?”

You stare at him, completely blankly, “Yeah?”

“You need to speak to him. Need to hear him out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, allowing him to help you to your feet. His reassuring hands on your shoulders turn you around and you meet his face. The face of the boyfriend you spent the last four months mourning while everybody watched you fall apart. And half of them knew.

So that’s what you feel. Anger.

“Glad you’re back,” you snipe, pushing past him, “Glad you’re alive.”

Everybody watches you go. A tense silence fills the room. Spencer clears his throat, after what feels like an eternity, muttering, “I-I’ll go after ... I’ll go and see if I can...”

It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, if he’s honest. Although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting.

“____ please, just let me talk to you, I’m sorry, please just let me have a chance to explain,” He manages to catch you at the elevator just in time, slipping through the gap with his lithe body, “Please. I need to explain. I need to apologise.”

“You can apologise as much as you want. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You’ll never deserve my forgiveness.”

The venom in your tone leaves him floundering.

“___ please,” he’s begging, and you won’t look at him because you can hear the tears in his voice and he’s begging again, “Please, please look at me, please listen to me. You have to understand, you have to give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’ve never been this angry at him before. But you are now. It consumes you, you’ve never understood a crime of passion before and you’re not going to put your hands on him, of course, but fuck do you understand it now. How a person could just snap. The rage swells in you, screaming. Every muscle in your body is tense. It takes all you have to ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure they break the skin. You’re furious. Furious at every single one of them.

“You lied to me,” you spit, “You lied to me and let me think you were dead. You and Hotch and Emily. I didn’t sleep in our bed for four months, Spencer. I’ve spent the past four months frozen, like, I couldn’t move forward without you. I didn’t start to move on. I've spent the last four months falling apart and trying to find a way to put myself back together without you, and then what, you just come back? You think we can just go back to normal? Spencer, I didn’t feel alive this past few months. I’ve been floating through, barely keeping it together. And for what? A case? That was important enough for you to do this to me?"

It’s true, you’ve spent the last four months feeling like you were the one who died. That you were united in being ghosts, except you were haunting all the places you used to go together, and he was just haunting your dreams. And he’d been alive. This. Whole. Time.

You storm out of the lift, lifting your head to look at him for only the second time in four months, “Please. Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He knows you aren’t wrong. Knows he doesn’t know if he could forgive you if the roles were reversed. Knows, more than anything, that he’s really fucked things up. You’ll never forgive him. That’s what you said, and right now, seeing anger like never before in your eyes, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt that isn’t completely true.

You don’t even make it to the parking lot before you feel your resolve melt into absolutely nothing. Anger descending into relief, hot tears cascading down your cheeks as the mantra starts again on a new loop in your head: SSA Reid was not killed.

[beelsnack]

Bad Influence - Beelsnack's 666 Follower Special!!

(Technically I'm over 666 - shoutout to the porn bots)

But seriously, holy shit, there's a lot of you. Thank you all so much for liking my stuff, and for interacting with me and sending me good vibes and all of that. I hope I can keep giving you guys quality work!!

And yes, I am a nerd and I consider 666 a milestone for a blog for a bunch of demons. No, I'm not sorry.

-----

Lucifer: He couldn’t help but wonder when the change had set in.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, they had been humble and meek. If anyone complimented them, they deflected it with the mastery and resignation of someone who had been doing it for far longer than they should have. And if someone thanked them? You would think their entire world was dissolving around them.

But now?

He extended a gloved hand towards them as they descended the stairs. Tonight was one of the rare nights where they had the opportunity to be alone without one of his brothers tagging along, and they had been planning this date for nearly a week now. They slipped their hand in his without any of the hesitation they would have shown at first. They knew they deserved his reverence.

“You look radiant as always, my dear,” he curled his fingers around theirs as they reached the bottom step, bringing the backs of their knuckles to his lips. “Surely there is no star in the sky that could outshine you.”

They laughed - his theatrics always did amuse them. “You do have amazing taste, after all.”

He chuckled as well, guiding the two of them to the front door. “Of course. Do you think the Avatar of Pride would associate with anyone less than the best?”

“Definitely not,” the wind that came through the door when they opened it blew their hair away from their face, and Lucifer couldn’t help but preen at the fact that he had helped that quivering little animal grow into the proud swan that stood before him.

“Speaking of the best, where are we going for dinner?”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he laughed as they made their way out into the night. “You deserve the world, and the world you shall get.”

“Unless ‘the world’ means a steak dinner, I’m not interested.”

Mammon: “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’ out here!”

The curtain covering the entrance to the changing room rustled, and Mammon heard a faint “Fine, fine, just give me a sec!” before it finally opened and out stepped the human.

Mammon always thought they looked good no matter what they were wearing, even if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Actually, especially if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. But seeing them decked out in his fashion brand - one he had both designed and modeled - was definitely making him feel some type of way.

He let out a low whistle when they stopped in front of the chair he had seated himself in. The results of his own shopping spree were tucked haphazardly into a colorful assortment of bags at his feet, but the human had taken a bit longer than he did picking out their stuff. And damn, was he glad they did, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the chance to see them modeling his clothes.

It was a private fashion show, just for him.

The outfit itself was pretty simple. A black fitted tee beneath a cropped leather jacket, a pair of faded dark-blue skinny jeans, and a pair of black sneaks with a gold stripe going up the side. But the thing that brought the whole outfit together was the long necklace with a topaz pendent resting against their breastbone.

“Well?” they asked, giving him a spin before striking a pose before him. “What do you think?”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The human wearing his clothes...it was the next best thing to them walking around with “I Belong To Mammon” tattooed on their forehead.

“I, uh...I guess you...um,” he swallowed thickly. “Ya look alright, I guess.”

“That’s tsundere for ‘you look hot,’ right?” they grinned before spinning around to look in the mirror. “Man, this is a whole look! I have to have it!”

If this had been a few months ago, the human would have waffled back and forth about whether or not to buy anything. It didn’t matter how much they wanted something, it was almost like they just couldn’t do anything nice for themselves. There was being frugal, and then there was deprivation. Now, though, was completely different.

“I wonder if I should get some shades to go with?” they mumbled, looking themselves over in the mirror. “I think that would really pull it together, don’t you?”

“Just don’t go for the Ray Bans, it’s a fucking scam.”

Leviathan: "Come on, come on, come on…"

Very rarely was Levi the one watching someone else play games, unless it was a stream. And as mind-blowingly awesome it would be to watch the human stream one of his current faves, he definitely didn't want other people seeing how adorable they looked when they were focused.

They had come to him with absolute determination in their eyes, begging him to help them out. There were a limited amount of UR armor sets in the event, and they needed to get their hands on one. And, well, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't help them out?

(The fact that he already scored the armor is irrelevant.)

So, here they were, camped out in the pillow nest that they often made for themselves when gaming in his room, laser focused on the screen with Levi giving them guidance. The event level was brutal, but they were in the final hours, so it was crunch time.

"Okay, this boss is easy once you know the attack pattern. Four regular slashes, a jab, then you've got about five seconds to get behind a pillar before it uses the AOE."

"Gotcha."

Even then, it was a long battle, and they had used up most of their healing potions by the time the monster let out an anguished roar and disintegrated into a pile of bones. The human held their breath as they moved towards it to gather their loot.

"Yes!!"

They practically leaped out of the pillow nest in triumph. There, right on the top of the loot list in shimmering gold font, and the UR armor that they had been coveting.

"I got it! I got it!" they cheered. "Levi, I finally got it!"

"Hell yeah you did!" the two of them shared a crisp high five as the results of the campaign loaded on the screen. It was updating in real time, so they could watch as the final moments of the event ticked away.

Levi knew what they were looking for. Early on in the dungeon, another player had done them real dirty, sniping them from a few levels above and then taunting them over VC about how they would never get the armor now. So of course that only inspired the human to work harder, and here they were.

3...2...1

Event over. Quickly, the human scrolled up to the beginning of the list, checking the names of all the players who scored the armor.

Levi sat next to them, chewing his lip. What was that person's tag again? He didn't remember.

Suddenly, the human let out a snort that turned into a full-on giggle fit.

"They didn't get it!" they cackled like a hyena. "Serves them right, the jackass!"

Levi was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to laugh at the misfortune of others. But, he knew better than anyone that spite was a hell of a motivator. When they had first gotten themselves isekai’d into the Devildom, they had let demons walk all over them, Levi had personally witnessed a lower-level demon shove them out of the way to get a sandwich they had been reaching for, and the human just stood there and let them take it. But they had grown to be a little more selfish, and if they wanted something, they were taking it.

And maybe, just maybe, seeing them like that turned him on just a little bit.

Satan: "You want to come and say that to my face?"

Satan stood there in stunned silence as the human spun on their heel to look the demons right in the eyes. They had their back to him, so Satan couldn't see the look on their face, but whatever it was made the two lesser demons flinch.

"Hey, come on, Human, we were just joking."

"Yeah, no need to get all worked up."

They scoffed, and Satan knew them well enough to know that they were rolling their eyes. "Is that right? So you don't think I'm a...what was it? A fleshy meat sack who thinks they can get what they want by sleeping with the strongest demons in the Devildom?"

Another flinch. Satan chuckled to himself.. Did those morons really think they wouldn't hear them? Humans might not have super-heightened senses but they weren't deaf.

A small crowd had begun gathering around them, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't every day one of the human exchange students squared up to a demon.

"You've got some nerve," the human drew themself up to their full height - which, admittedly, was laughable compared to most demons - and crossed their arms. "What do you think Lord Diavolo would do to demons who messed with his exchange students?"

"I believe there's a special spot in the Royal Torture Chambers for such demons," Satan came to stand next to them, and the other demons downright cowered. "If I recall correctly, there's an Iron Maiden down there."

"Ooh, cool!"

"Alright, we get it!" One of the demons cried, throwing their hands up defensively. "We're sorry!"

Satan opened his mouth to spit a curse at them, but the human beat him to it. "I've got Lord Diavolo on speed dial, so start running."

The two demons turned tail and booked it down the hallway, nearly crashing into Beelzebub as he turned the corner with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he swallowed and turned to Satan and the human.

"Were those two bothering you guys?"

Satan cast a sideways look at the human before a wicked grin spread across his face.

"They took care of it."

Asmodeus: "Well, someone's feeling bold tonight."

The door had barely shut behind the two of them before the human was pressing Asmo against it, mouthing at his neck as their hands traveled down the front of his silk blouse. He shuddered gleefully as their breath ghosted against his ear lobe.

"I can't help it," they murmured, fingers skirting just beneath the hem of his shirt. "You looked so good out there."

"I look good all the time, darling," he hummed, reaching up to grab a fistful of hair to gently pry them away from his neck.

"You looked especially good," they huffed as he let go of their hair. "Dancing like that, I could barely wait until we got home."

"Aw, sweetheart, you should have come to join me." Asmo rolled his hips in an echo of the dancing he had been doing at the club, delighting when he felt them shiver against him. "We could have put on a show that would have captivated the whole Devildom."

"I don't think the staff would appreciate it."

"They would be too busy watching to care," Asmo giggled, diving down to capture their lips in a quick and dirty kiss. "Although I can't say I'm not thrilled to be getting a private show."

Beelzebub: “Man, this place has the best barbecue!”

Dinner dates were a pretty common thing for the two of them. Over the course of the human’s stay in the Devildom, the two of them had figured out which restaurants would put up with Beel’s appetite and which would visibly freeze when the Avatar of Gluttony entered the establishment. The Hellfire Barbecue was one of the good places, probably because Beel made sure to tip really well, and one time personally went into the kitchen to tip the chef. Or, well, he tried, anyway. He ended up giving the money to the human and told them to give it to the chef because he knew if he went in there he would devour everything. But the sentiment was still there.

Beel smiled down at the human as they wiped the barbecue sauce off of their face. “You finished all of it this time.”

“Huh?” they glanced at their plate. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You usually don’t.”

“I was really hungry, I guess.” they grinned sheepishly.

Beel distinctly remembered the human telling him that they always tried to save some food for later. Whether it was being resourceful or because they had a weird sense of shame around eating too much, Beel didn’t know, but he had never pressed in case it was a sensitive issue. But, seeing them indulge themselves and looking genuinely full and satisfied made him happy. And was probably his main motivation for taking them out to dinner so often.

Well, that and getting his own food.

“I like watching you eat.” Beel said, waving to the owner as he passed by.

“You...like watching me eat.” the human repeated, looking somewhat confused.

“You look so happy when you eat good food,” Beel smiled. “I like seeing you happy.”

Belphegor: Oh, how the tables have tabled.

“Come on, I don’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s lectures today.” Belphie grumbled, tugging half-heartedly on the human’s arm that was flung around his waist. “We should get up soon.”

For all of his complaining, Belphie didn’t move. If anything, he snuggled down deeper into the bed. He loved when the human agreed to have a sleepover in the attic with him. They got uninterrupted cuddle and nap time, since nobody dared to come up to the attic except Beel. And Beel was almost always welcome to join the cuddle puddle.

“Five more minutes…” the human mumbled sleepily, burying their face into Belphie’s neck. The soft, contented sigh they let out tickled, and he squirmed a little.

“Aren’t you usually the one waking me up?” Belphie nuzzled his nose against their hair.

“But it’s comfy here,” they whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You just don’t want to do the presentation in class today.”

“Your point?”

Belphie laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.”

“I did all the hard work anyway,” they shrugged. “We’ll make Mammon give the report.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of them settled back down into the nest of pillows. The human had almost drifted back to sleep when Belphie brought his nose down to theirs to nuzzle them together.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You’re cute when you shut up and let me sleep.”

[iamnightduchess]

SnK 139 (A personal thought on Reiner & Mikasa's ending)

We have finally reached the end. For those who began this fandom since 2010, it's been 11 years of happiness, tears and heartbreak, on top of character discourse with our respective favorites. This manga is rich with amazing life values that requires more than just a quick zip through of every chapter. It requires a thorough, repeat reading. Hajime Isayama weaved his universe in a way that never cease to blow all of his readers' minds away but still touched our hearts in an emotional way.

(Special thanks to @pethellhounds for the key pointers for this post!)

No doubt, I love all of the characters, each of their flaws, strengths and growth but my two favorites have always been Mikasa and Reiner, individually.

Upon the first two reads, I was saddened, I was devastated and I allowed my emotions to filter the absolute value of the final chapter; in particularly to my most favorites. All thanks to the discourse we had in our RK discord, my brethren offered me a different perspective on how we could truly perceive ch.139 for what it truly is: a bittersweet farewell which only leads to new beginnings.

Reiner Braun

Armin was destined to save humanity, Eren confided on that himself. Even if it was Mikasa's personal choice on ch.123 that is the ultimatum that had saved humanity by eradicating the power of the Titans from the world for good. As referenced on this post, it has been Mikasa that was destined to free Ymir all along through her selflessness.

Upon first read, the following panel seemed to portray the remaining alliance members in a different light. Everyone looked amazing, happy as they exchanged banter just like how old friends with shared traumatizing experiences do. After all they're all celebrated world heroes - living with possibly an upgraded lifestyle, fame and wealth even within those 3 years. But upon several more reads and deeper observation, one could not entirely disregard the rather dark and gloomy atmosphere beyond the bright surface. In particular Jean and Reiner, who seemed to be a bit more noticeable.

Jean somehow is putting on a front as a skirt-chaser (having preference for younger girls) while Reiner seemed to be simping over his old crush (who's already married & has a child in Paradis).

The above panel seemed comical because the actions & lines seemed a bit "out of nowhere", but beyond the surface - everyone's hurting secretly from within, some are masking their pain, though some remained unaffected because they all shared a heavy burden of guilt towards Eren's death & Mikasa's withdrawal from the group to lay their friend in his final resting place all the way in Paradis. Jean and Reiner both are putting on a front.

Do remember that during the Marley arc, not even once was Reiner shown to reminisce about Historia very specifically. Not even in a fleeting thought, thus why it could also be deduced that she did not actually have a huge impact on his memory or his genuine affections beyond just a fleeting crush to hide his tormented mental state from within. How could someone who has been shown to have tremendous emotional growth and a consistent, albeit shaky psychological regulation during his primary arc was reduced to a typical simp archetype in the final chapter? This is not, a "Reiner can finally be his real self who's free of his burdens & he is someone who's enjoying his new life" moment.

The last time he portrayed this "simping" behavior? When he was 17 years old during the 104th's first SC excursion and when his psyche was almost teetering on its edges as his Warrior!alter is wrestling control against his soldier personality in Utgard Castle.

Reiner's simping (which was an intended joke) was also an indicator of a bleak truth: his DID regressed, from his regulated state and his psyche was completely torn apart from that day. In Marley, he had been extremely depressed but he was a loyal, strong and steadfast soldier who had only his duties in mind. To see him do a complete 360 & reverted to a creepy old behaviour, is truly saddening. He's been masking his pain with this front. Even Pieck could be seen sending him a silent, understanding look of concern for his letter-sniffing action.

In 139, despite having a new chance at life, having his mother's genuine love and acceptance & achieved his original dream in becoming a respected hero who is recorded in history, one could not entirely rule out the possibility that Reiner's DID has regressed to the point that either he reverted back to his soldier persona as a facąde or he'd might have developed a new alter altogether after having to experience Survivor's Guilt for the second turn. Yet this time, with no known time limit since the Curse of Ymir had been eradicated. DID is a lifelong condition. It does not go away, it cannot be healed even with modern medicine but yes, could be managed. That letter, the mentioning of Eren's name and their impending arrival on Paradis - the place he felt the happiest of his life - could be his trigger to put on that front. He, (along with the rest of the alliance on that ship) had to live with the fact that his and his family's new life and future had been at the expense of two people's livelihood; Eren & Mikasa. Eren sacrificed his life. Mikasa chose to bury Eren at his final resting place in Shinganshina and remain there to honor his memories on her own, without anyone by her side despite having fought together & almost on the verge of dying together.

(Thank you @lancerofdarkness for pointing this out!) We can see the banter between Reiner and Jean is very reminiscent of Reiner and Bertolt, where the latter cautioned the former on "not getting too carried away". Where Bertolt had a filtered approach, Jean had a more direct, head-on snipe. This dynamic had been initially observed much earlier in this post.

The alliance members could possibly have made a silent pact between them on not mentioning either Eren or Mikasa's name out of respect for that 3 years. Or if they, as well as the others, were not divulged of the real truth by Armin. With or without this knowledge, Eren's death and Mikasa's silent departure from the alliance do affect everyone. Some are more obvious than the others.

Once again, I feel compelled to share an unpopular perception that Reiner's simping is not his true self's behavior. It is a mask. A fake persona. It is a front to hide the real pain from within.

He cared about both Eren and Mikasa respectively, as much as the others do.

Mikasa Ackerman

Upon first reading, I was initially devastated for Mikasa's conclusion. It was her decision and selfless act that had saved all of humanity and won Ymir over, which completely destroys the Paths as well as removing the titan powers together with its curse. The woman who had been at the frontlines, placing her life at stake, almost dying first to protect the men in the alliance; she who had sacrificed everything ended up with nothing but only memories of the one who could never be and loneliness.

To throw salt into the wound, we saw Eren uttering in Paths on how he refused to accept the notion of Mikasa being with another man, he wanted her to only love him and have him in her heart even 10 years after his death. It was indeed a last spur of the moment declaration that ironically contradicted his plea in 138.

Their relationship was never meant to take off by riding into the sunset together, they are not destined to be with each other, even if their feelings are mutual. Despite my personal observation of their relationship as a form of enslavement in itself: Mikasa still sees it as her devotion & commitment to Eren. I have to respect her perspective on this.

Ymir mistaken Stockholm Syndrome as love, she perceives enslavement as love. Being used as a tool of war and breeding, surrendering all her will to her captor, yearning for his validation - she saw those as love. Now the glaring parallel between Ymir and Mikasa are truly obvious. Because of love, Ymir tethered herself to Paths or purgatory for 2,000 years and in exchange of Mikasa's decision & action, Mikasa remained tethered to her love for Eren & his memories for at least another 10 years if not for the rest of her life on earth. That is truly heartbreaking.

I was devastated. I personally believe she deserves better. She too deserves to have her happy end, to be loved and have a family of her own.

When Armin had dreams of seeing the world beyond the walls, Mikasa has always been a simple girl with simple dreams: i) to go back home within that forest in Shinganshina and ii) to be by Eren's side forever. Once we realised this, Mikasa actually had everything she ever desired after all. She's back home in Shinganshina, living in solitude and in peace with no burden of world peace, diplomatic affairs on her shoulder and has no need to put on a facąde. She's been grieving and she still cried for her yearning to see Eren's face again even after 3 years that she might not stop shedding tears in the next 7 years just like Eren wanted. That is how psychologically and emotionally affected she is with Eren's words, actions and death. She chose to remember Eren and keep her in her heart that it is almost seen as an imprisonment but she's also free from other wordly responsibilities unlike the rest of the alliance members.

Did I wish she would have a better ending than this? Absolutely. This young woman has never been on her own ever since she was born, it's heartbreaking to see her having to process her grief alone without even a single companion by her side. She lost all of her incredible physical strength and had to learn how to fortify her emotional strength through her grieving process. She has only learn on how to love and be loved by Eren, which has major missing components left to be desired. Mikasa deserves to be loved, to receive that affection openly in return from someone who would be ideal, respectful, trustworthy, expressive, equally devoted, the raindrop to her seed, the sun to her cold days and loving towards her and maybe one day, eventually would be able to grow a real family from that genuine love.

The last two bottom panel above we can actually observe the innocent kid!Mikasa just like Isayama promised. She is ready and curious to once again, learn more about the beautiful but cruel world. She is ready to leave the forest upon realizing that no matter where she goes, Eren will always be inside her heart.

She is at peace. Even if she looks way thinner, fragile that she should be and could be seen collapsing as she was hit by another wave of strong grief. But since the members of the alliance are coming to Paradis for a potential negotiation, it is been stated by Mikasa that they are also coming to see Eren's final resting place to pay their respects. She will be meeting her friends after 3 years for the first time and I could really hope that they can be the support that each other needed for true healing. I am holding on to the possibility of her being ready to move on and start living again after putting the course of her life on hold by mourning for Eren the moment she is reunited again with Armin, Annie, Reiner, Jean and Connie.

The bird flew over the ship carrying the alliance as it is heading towards Paradis before heading towards Mikasa's location, giving his answer to her "You're happy right?" question by wrapping that scarf around her neck for one last time. He wanted her to be free after 3 years of grief. He wanted her to move on when she meets their friends again because she does not deserve to be consumed in her grief not even another day. Not even for another 7 years. Not even for the rest of her life.

Anything that we envision happening after 139 is valid in this universe. I believe Mikasa will begin living her life to the fullest as the end of the series is also the beginning of her next journey. But this time, she will be doing it in the company of her loved ones. Together.

[paralleledmediaexperience]

a part 2 to this ficlet as requested by @xanthomonus in the notes! I’ve got at least one more part conceptualized (no way you can guess what’ll happen there) though i may extend it or add more, so if anyone would like to be tagged let me know!! 

- 

 Sam is insistent that they try to research ways to get Cas back. Jack has explained that Amara won’t fail- it is simply the process of extracting an Angel from the Empty that takes time, since she didn’t want to wake or anger it like… well, like what Jack had done. He could feel Amara’s sincerity in a way that he was certain Sam and Dean wouldn’t understand, let alone be comforted by. She’d been in his head, crossed with his soul in the transfer of power. He’s kind of sure that if he hadn’t missed Cas so much too, she probably would have ignored Dean’s request altogether.

But it makes Sam look less frazzled when he’s able to lose himself in the research for something, and Jack doesn’t mind sitting with him and pretending he’s not hiding chapter books behind the large tomes. He’s been working his way steadily through some books Sam had collected for him last time they had been out shopping, and while he had enjoyed the first one (a mystery about siblings called the Boxcar children even though they no longer lived in a boxcar) he’d chosen Matilda next, because she sounded nice. And he was right! Matilda was his new favorite, even more than his last favorite, which had been Where the Wild Things Are.

He doesn’t even notice when Dean walks in, because Matilda had just glued a hat to her father’s head, but he does when Sam says, “What, none for me?”

“You’re a grown man, Sammy, you can make your own food. He’s four years old with a foot injury.” Dean says, scowling at Sam. The effect is rather ruined by both Dean’s flour dusted apron and the plate in his hands, and Jack smiles when he turns back to him instead. “You both missed lunch.”

Sam grumbles, but gets up anyway, stretching. “If you didn’t make me food how could I have missed it?”

“Shut up,” Dean shoots back half-heartedly. “Here, Jack, and don’t let him steal off your plate just because he got distracted reading.”

“Thanks, Dean!” Jack says brightly, moving his secret reading setup to the table instead of his lap and pushing it away, ignoring the way Sam’s eyebrows raise when he notices his no longer hidden book. Dean sets the plate down and ignores that Sam sends him one last annoyed face before heading off to the kitchen, where Jack knows there is going to be a plate ready for Sam, or at least a serving of the macaroni and cheese sprinkled with bacon bits and breadcrumbs that Dean’s brought him. “Are you making something else?”

“Just some bread,” Dean grimaces down at the mess of flour across his front, and Jack has to contain his giggles when the movement reveals a streak of flour in Dean’s hair. 

“Just some bread,” Sam echoes, swinging back through the door with his own plate of macaroni. “Dean. Do I need to remind you that we need vegetables and can’t live off of carbs and meat alone?”

“It’s macaroni, Sam, quit whining and just enjoy it,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I swear, you’re the pickiest-”

“It’s not being picky, it’s eating healthy-”

“Same difference!” Dean insists, his twitching lips betraying the irritation in his voice.

“Just one meal with something green a day, Dean, I’m begging you.” 

Eyes flicking back and forth as they snipe at each other, Jack takes an appreciative bite of the macaroni. Expectedly delicious, because Dean made it and Dean didn't make bad food the way Sam sometimes did. Mostly.

“Then beg,” Dean proclaims stubbornly, eyes narrowed. Sam doesn’t respond, his own expression pinching up into very familiar exasperation. 

“Actually, I’ve never had brussel sprouts before, and Claire said I should try them!” Jack interjects. He isn’t sure what a brussel sprout is beyond a vegetable, but Claire had said he’d like them and that he should bother Dean into making them. 

Dean looks unimpressed though, gaze switching from Sam back to meet Jack’s eyes. “You want me to make you brussel sprouts?”

“Please?” Jack tries, unsure if Dean thinks there is something wrong with brussel sprouts or if he is still simply offended by the concept of vegetables.

The please works, Dean’s capitulation coming in the form of a displeased huff and an, “Alright, fine.” He swings back around to point at Sam accusingly. “I’m blaming you for this.”

“As long as we get something from each of the five food groups, sure,” Sam says, taking his seat again. “And no, you don’t get to use tomatoes as the catch all.”

“Fine,” Dean bites out again, clapping Jack on the shoulder as he starts to turn away.

“Thank you Dean! Love you!” Jack says, and he hears Sam’s quick inhale just as he sees Dean almost stumble and he smiles to himself.

“Love you too, kid,” Dean manages to get out, hand squeezing just a bit tighter on his shoulder. “Alright, go back to your books, I have to go to the store for brussel sprouts apparently.”

The speed at which Dean walks away couldn’t be called running away but Jack definitely thinks it qualifies as retreating, and he straightens up a bit, very proud of himself for receiving his second ‘love you’ from Dean in twice as many days. He watches Dean get out the door before turning back around in his seat.

Sam is staring at him with a blinking mixture of incredulity and open affection, the smile on his face wide, if confused. “That’s… new?” 

“Yep,” Jack confirms, pulling Matilda back towards himself and abandoning the pretense of reading the book Sam had suggested he search through. Sam had already searched it himself twice. He doesn’t manage to open it, because Sam continues.

“And I don’t need to check that it’s actually Dean?” Sam teases, bewilderment clear and pride clearer. “Saying yes to vegetables AND and I love you?”

“It turns out,” A voice whipcracks out, startling them both, “That Dean Winchester is actually a big old softie at heart. Who knew?”

“Balthazar?” Sam says, and Jack almost gets bowled over by the wave of shock. Balthazar? He knew that name. He stares openly, unheeded as Balthazar talks to Sam.

“Well, except Castiel, of course, but that Profound Bond of theirs hardly makes it fair,” The angel says, stepping forward. “Yes, Sam, I’ve been hand delivered back from the dead, at the temporary cost of my Grace. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Your grace?” Jack asks, curious about how Sam had been looking at him, but unwilling to turn around and take his eyes off of the angel Cas had once killed. “What do you mean?”

“Ah,” Balthazar strides over, and before Jack can say anything he’s got him clasped by both shoulders, staring into his eyes with a curiosity so intense Jack almost steps back towards the table. “And you’re Jack, I assume? I was warned that there would be no murdering of nephilim if I returned.”

“So Amara freed you?” Sam cuts in, and Jack huffs out a small breath as Balthazar lets him go to spin back around and face him. “Did she have a reason?”

Jack doesn’t voice his own question, which feels far more important. He wants to know when Cas will be back.

“Uh, yes?” Balthazar sneers. “Most of the angels are dead, Sam, no thanks to you and your brother and my brother. I’ll admit some of us deserved it- were rather asking for it, if you ask me- but it did leave dear aunty with rather less personnel than she wants to run heaven with.”

“She’s not grabbing all the angels, is she?” Jack breathes, terrified suddenly, despite Balthazar’s assurance that Amara had apparently set him off limits. 

“Not a chance. Seemed to have a list in mind, and I think I was simply the first she found. I thought perhaps…” He trails off, just for a split second before he grins again, bright and covering up anything he might have been about to show. “Well, I didn’t, actually. Rather hard to do when you’re sleeping in eternal torment.”

Jack catches Sam’s flinch, and frowns at the other man. “Are you sure you were the first?”

Balthazar ticks his head to one side, considering. “Well, I’m the first to show up here, I’ll assume by your reactions, and given that she’s bringing us back graceless, I imagine any others will also be sent here.”

Jack scowls. If so, then Cas may be further off than he hoped. But this was- conclusive proof. Amara could do it, and now they would just have to deal with powerless angels until she came back and dealt with them herself. And Cas would be home.

Sam sighs, deep and weary and cheerless. “Yeah. That would make sense. Well, we can put this away, then.” He closes the book on the table with a hefty thump and then stacks Jack’s abandoned tome on top of it. “And I suppose we should try to make sure we have rooms ready. Jack, would you-”

“I’ll call Dean and let him know,” Jack says, suddenly tired and wanting to get away from Balthazar, still staring at him hawkishly, wanting to be away from the library, where more angels could show up without warning. He wants to hide in his room or possibly Cas’ until Amara brings him back and takes all the others back to heaven or whatever she planned to do. He wishes viciously in his head that he hadn’t opened his mouth about brussel sprouts and that Dean was still here in the kitchen where Jack could escape to without feeling alone. As it is, he grabs Matilda and his plate, still half full of macaroni, ready to walk away, but he catches Balthazar’s face again.

“You’re hungry,” Jack realizes as he says it. Balthazar has a facial journey of his own to deal with that fact before he grimaces.

“Human,” he says, displeasure and embarrassment warring on his features, even as his stomach growls.

Jack doesn’t want Balthazar here, he doesn’t want Amara to try to find anyone but Cas, or at least to find Cas first, and he most definitely doesn’t want to share his food that Dean made him, or Dean and Sam’s attention in general, and he swallows all of this down and he says, “Here. If you’ve never been human before, you’ve never really tasted food, right? Dean’s always makes the best food.”

He holds out the plate and drops it into Balthazar’s hands and tries his best not to stomp out like a real child, or run out like he’s scared, but he makes it around the corner and leans against the wall, out of sight.

Except that Sam immediately pokes his head around, following him. “Jack?”

“I don’t like this,” Jack says plainly, staring up at Sam like maybe he could explain why all of the good feelings he’d been having had shriveled up in his stomach and refused to leave, even though Sam clearly didn’t think Balthazar was an actual threat to them.

“I could tell,” Sam says, almost teasing again, but he drops it immediately. “Is it okay, Jack? Because we can absolutely just send him and any others that show up to the nearest motel instead.”

“No,” He says immediately, but he pauses after, thinking. He takes a deep breath in, trying to ease the odd tightness inside his chest.  “No. They can stay here until Amara gets back. I just…” 

“Don’t like it,” Sam nods, as if that explains it, and Jack guesses it does. “Well, Dean won’t like it either, so you can let him know that the two of you are free to hole up wherever you’d like to get away from them, and I’ll try to deal with them myself as much as I can.”

The tightness in his chest does soften, another breath rushing out like he’d been holding it. “Thanks, Sam.” 

“You know I love you too, Jack,” Sam says, earnest and open and Jack barely makes the decision to hug him but he ends up wrapped up in Sam’s arms anyhow.

“I do. I know. Love you, Sam,” Jack says, fixing his grip on Matilda as he pulls away. “Okay, I need to go call Dean, because if he leaves the store before-”

“He won’t want to turn around, yeah,” Sam laughs.

Jack can’t help the smile that bursts across his face. “Well, I can’t use it too often, or it might not work anymore, but maybe if I say please.”

[saphirered]

Orym and a arcane Archer reader, maybe the group is in some fight and everything is looking bad for them but them out of nowhere all the bad guys are getting sniped left and right! After everything cools down this beautiful/handsome Archer steps out of the shadows and is checking up to see if their all okay while orym is just quietly freaking out cause WOW THAT WAS COOL AND HOT lol. Sorry that this is long I really like orym!

Here you go. Enjoy! 😘

They knew Poska’s folks would catch up to them at some point and maybe they should have prepared for that while they had the time. However, they got caught up in the mix of life and forgot about the entire fact they were on the run. The good thing about being in a forest; there’s loads of trees to take cover behind. The bad part, there’s little to no space for a cart to move through off road; especially not one dubbed the ‘glitter shitter’ and the moment your enemies make it up close, you’re already screwed.

Where are these guys coming from? Orym thinks. There’s more than they expected. Apparently Poska had learned her lesson after the whole ordeal; sending just the two to kill them, then falling under Fearne’s spell herself. She wasn’t going to let them get away a third time. Opal is about to take another hit but Orym swings in, covering her with the shield and successfully deflecting the blow. Then need a game changer and they need it quickly.

“Opal, if you ever thought apologising to your sister was a good idea, please let it be now.” Orym suggests and while Opal already had a brush with death once, she’s a stubborn one. She’s not backing down now. Ted’s wrong. She’s right but Orym does have a point. Could she fake apologise? Orym doesn’t care. As long as this works and they get out.

Dariax goes down but luckily Fearne is nearby to get him back to his feet. Dorian is in a scuffle with two of the Nameless Ones and there’s no disengaging with where he’s at so he keeps swinging his weapons trying to inspire the others to help the group as much as he can. Fy’ra is kicking some ass but she can’t save them all and she knows that. Orym gives Opal the chance to back off and get out of the thick of it. Their assailants are pushing them together, slowly enclosing them and they’re succeeding. Within a few rounds they have nowhere to run.

“We’re surrounded. What now?” Fearne looks at the faces of the Nameless Ones. One of them jumps a little meeting her glare. Good she left an impression but it’s not going to help her much.

The first one gets ready to strike, opens his mouth to speak but the words fall silent. Instead the man lets out a soundless scream. The bloodied head of an arrow visible to the group. Frantically the Nameless Ones look around for who just shot their buddy. Sinking to the ground clutching his throat that one’s out of the game. One down, several to go.

Sticking to the shadows and hiding in and behind the trees you keep moving every time you release another arrow. This group needs some desperate help so when you got a call from an old friend saying adventure and trouble’s on the horizon, how could you refuse. These poor suckers look like they could use some help. Seriously, they have two people that look like they’re properly prepared for a fight? How have they lasted this long? Granted, you came in a bit late and missed most of their fight but you’re here now so does it really matter?

“This is your first and only chance so listen carefully. You leave these people be. Return to your boss and tell her to piss off or you’re going to end up just like your buddy over there.” You hide up high among the branches. The thugs search the grounds but don’t spot you. Idiots.

“Yeah! You better listen to them!” The dwarf cheers on but is quickly silenced by Orym. How could they even be sure you’re a friend and not just someone else looking for the bounty on their heads? Then again, you did tell the thugs to leave them alone and pretty much told Poska to shove it.

You notice one of the thugs reach for a sword, making a move to attack the group. The halfling deflects the blow and swings back. This kickstarts the whole fight again. Okay, playtime’s over. You rain down hellfire from the comfort of your trees picking them off one by one. Both the groups and the thugs catch sight of a shadow moving through but you’ve disappeared before they can track you. In a matter of seconds with the collective fighting back of the group you’ve taken down most of their assailants.

The halfling is being attacked by one of the thugs who relentlessly keeps hitting. The intent is clear; kill. While the halfling deflects and dodges a fair amount of hits, still plenty of them come through and he’s looking a little worse for wear. You land down on the forest floor with grace, light on your feet you barely even make a noise. You draw an arrow calling upon your teachings of old. You pull back the string to the corner of your lips keeping you shoulders low allowing the back muscles to do all the work. You release the string, letting your fingertips slide off, watching the arrow fly and hit the halfling’s attacker right in the chest. It’s a true hit.

When Orym sees another hit incoming he lifts his shield to take cover but the hit never comes. Instead the attacker is gone and there he sees you, bow lifted, still in the aftermath of releasing the arrow you fired. You give him a little wink as you draw another arrow. Your place given away, one of the last thugs runs for you. You before the idiot can even reach you, draw another arrow, repeats the process but this time when your arrow strikes a burst of brambles takes hold over the thug. The thug tries to get out but the poison is strong enough to finish him.

“You might wanna move out of the way.” You turn your attention back to the halting who isn’t going to question your suggestion. The thug that disappeared reappears in the previous spot striking down and hitting nothing but dirt. You nock another arrow and fire. Killing shot. You’re on a roll. With the tides sufficiently turned and the thugs strongly outmatched you finish off the last of them. You certainly knew how to catch their attention.

You’re going around, collecting your arrows, or whatever still usable, letting the group do their thing. Finally getting a good look at you Orym hesitates to interrupt you. Perhaps it’s because you’re intimidating, your looks certainly fit the badass angel of death aesthetic. You’re dropped gorgeous. Or maybe he’s hesitant to approach for another reason. You saved his ass a few times during that fight and you’re highly skilled with a bow. He’s heard stories about archers like you and you’re like a myth standing right in front of him. Everything about you calls for his attention.

You notice the halfling keeping an eye on you. What were you told his name was again? Orym. He’s definitely cuter than you were told. Maybe you’ll stick around for a little while? Arrows gathered, unusable ones disposed of as a nice message left behind for the Nameless Ones that dare tread behind and make a move. The group has gathered most of their bearings but you need to move on soon. Others might follow.

“You all good? Because we need to move as soon as possible.” You come over to the group and you can feel Orym staring, his eyes following as you go. You’re unsure if it’s because you’re the stranger out here, the stunts you just pulled off, you being completely unimpressed by absolutely laying waste to these thugs or something else.

“Thank you. For your help and saving us, saving me. I don’t think we would still be standing weren’t it for you.” Orym tells you, gratitude and admiration written over his face. He’s surprised he doesn’t stumble over his words. You’ve caught him off guard in such a way he’s unsure how to handle it.

Helping them pack up and het back on the road you find yourself sharing the reigns of the ‘glitter shitter’ with Orym. You keep an eye out on the road jumping off every so often to do a perimeter sweep just to make sure you’re not being followed. You have a few conversations, mainly just trivial stuff between the two of you but the man hasn’t made a move yet to go into anything beyond surface levels of personal. After a good hour of silence, conversation seemingly having come to an end, nothing left to talk about just yet, Orym surprises you by breaking that silence.

“I just need to get this off my chest. When you came in, dropping those thugs dead like flies, you took my breath away and I don’t know how to say this the right way but you’re as gorgeous as you are deadly.” Flustered Orym keeps his eyes on the road not daring to look at you for a response. What if he said the wrong thing? He didn’t want to make things awkward between you and him and the group but he’s also at the point where he couldn’t not address this in fear it might get in the way in the future. Better to speak and be let down than say nothing and act solely on attraction later.

You face him with a grin. While somewhat socially awkward, but a good fighter, you appreciate his courage. The dusting of scarlet spreading across his cheeks really warms your heart. You’ve said it before; cute.

“Well, don’t hold back on these compliments on my account. Flattery will get you everywhere.” You offer him another wink. This might just be the start of something fun. Maybe in time Orym will be able to flirt without getting flustered and that day might come sooner rather than later. He, just like you, is full of surprises. Maybe he’ll even get you to blush if he’s feeling particularly courageous.

[andtheywerecocaptains]

@cantteachanoldguardnewquotes​​ my dear ♥♥♥ and nonnie! thank you for sending this! I’ve decided to go with 7 because I have thought long and hard about 49 but I couldn’t come up with anything that I like. So I hope this one is just as good! I promise it’s a happy ending!

Send me kaysanova prompts from this list!

7. “When you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Joe was an agglomerate of character traits that Nicky had learned and knew like the back of his hand. Nothing could be kept hidden from him. He was able to read Joe’s smallest facial expression, the most invisible eyebrow twitch, a change in the volume of his voice, different ways of holding him that meant different things.

Joe was Nicolò’s favourite book - and right now Nicky was trying to read through the chapters that were leading the plot somewhere he was really not sure about. 

Not that the narration was any different. The words were very familiar to Nicky. Joe’s silence was being narrated inside Nicky’s head, but like every other time, he didn’t know how the story was going to end.

Yusuf had spoken very little and very softly for the past couple of days. Anyone else would’ve said that this was very out of character for him, but not Nicky. No, this was part of who his husband was, just as much as his laughter and endless stream of words and his smile that lit up the room and Nicky’s soul.

It had been a couple of months since they’d left Booker behind and, maybe for that exact reason, Andy had thrown them straight into the next mission, which she’d found herself, rather than waiting for someone to ask for their help. Everyone in the team knew why she’d done it. It was her way of coping when losing a soldier. However, she hadn’t asked for anyone’s opinion and that had caused some bubbling resentment, which was never vocalised anyway.

Nile had barely had the chance of settling in and warming up to them. They had only managed to share a few details about themselves, but now they were getting ready to leave for Sweden to meet Andy’s contact and Nile was already learning the basics of the weapons they had and which ones to bring and to leave behind. She wasn’t complaining: the Marine still in her was telling her to be quiet and listen to Andy, even though she might have been feeling a little bit out of place still.

Joe was being quiet too, but not in the same way. Nicky had been following him with his eyes for the whole day, silently checking on him in between one bag being packed and the other. His husband had only made eye contact with him for a total of possibly 3 times, which was the main thing that had prompted Nicky to gently pull him aside at one point and lock both of them in the bathroom.

“My heart, I need you to either tell me what’s going on or start smiling for me again because this day has been absolutely insufferable.”

One corner of Nicky’s lips lifted slightly, whilst he put his hands on his hips. He wasn’t mad at Joe and Joe knew. He was just trying to get him to talk now, before they got on a plane for Stockholm and had to dedicate themselves to the mission completely. 

Joe sighed, resting with his back against the bathroom door, his arms crossed on his chest. He was looking at the floor, but it only took him a few seconds before looking up to meet Nicky’s eyes. His eyebrows were lifted and his forehead was slightly wrinkled, which meant something was weighing on his shoulders and he needed to talk about it. Nicky knew. Joe... Joe always needed a little bit of prodding. He always thought he was the one appointed to listen to other people’s problems and that no one had to be put through what was troubling his mind instead. 

“I just thought... I just thought I was going to be given some time.”

The smile faded from Nicky’s face, but he didn’t move. He knew exactly was Joe was talking about. Booker’s ghost was still floating around in between them, everywhere they went, but the fact that Andy had been so hellbent on finding another mission for them hadn’t given them the chance to actually sit down and talk about it. That, and the fact that she didn’t want to sit down and talk about it.

“You’re troubled.”

It wasn’t a question. Nicky knew Joe more than anyone in the world and they very rarely needed to ask questions anymore.

“I am.”

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping much?”

“I think so.”

Nicky pressed his own lips together, but only had to think about it a few instants and he had already reached Joe, his hands cupping his bearded face, bodies gently and lazily pressed against each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not... not now. We need to pack our things, we need to go to Sweden.”

Joe was right. The flight was booked for 7am the following day and they had too many things to bring with them.

“Joe, we’re not going back to the other room until we’ve settled this.”

Nicky’s thumbs started moving lightly on Joe’s skin, trying to soothe him, trying to gently massage the thoughts out of his head and his mouth. 

Nicky knew how unbearably overwhelmed with emotions Joe could become and how hard it could be for him to put it in words when he was feeling so much, so he needed some encouragement.

“We can’t, Nico, you still haven’t packed your sniper rifle...”

Nicky sighed loudly, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, then rested his forehead against Joe’s, pressing his fingers a bit deeper into Joe’s skin. It was a way to tell him to stop being silly, without actually telling him off.

“What do you need?” Nicky asked, the voice reduced to a whisper.

“Time.”

Nicky nodded, still not pulling away.

“But we don’t have any.” Joe added, eyes now closed, hands gently on Nicky’s sides.

“We do.” Nicky replied, touching the tip of Joe’s nose with his own. This prompted Joe to look at him again, and Nicky welcomed him with a warm smile.

“How? The plane...”

“We’re not going anywhere. Actually, I’ll do you one better. You and I are going to Malta.”

Joe’s eyebrow lifted upwards a little bit and his lips parted ever so slightly. He was confused.

“You are overwhelmed.” Nicky explained, separating their foreheads only to give himself room to caress Joe’s curls on his forehead - gestures that oozed affection, affection that Nicky only reserved to Joe and especially in these moments, when Joe was so vulnerable. “None of us have had time to process what happened and I cannot bear to see you like this any longer. We all need a break and I am sure Andy and Nile will come to that conclusion soon for themselves, but if you need to go, I am coming with you.”

Nicky could clearly see tears pooling up inside Joe’s eyes, but his husband didn’t flinch. He just kept looking at him, like one would with a deity.

“But the mission... It’s an observation one, you can do your sniping work as much as you want, I can’t take this away from you...” Joe whispered, his voice trembling. Nicky stopped him halfway through, grabbing his face again.

“Yusuf. Stop. I don’t care. When you’re happy, I am happy. And you are not happy. So we’re going to Malta. Have I made myself clear?” Nicky asked, lifting one eyebrow, but with the shadow of a smile clearly clinging on his lips. 

Joe kept his eyes on him for a few seconds, then relaxed his shoulders, closed his eyes and nodded. He then proceeded to lean forward, hunching himself against Nicky so that he could end up with his forehead on Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky was ready to hug him, to wrap his arms around Joe’s shoulders. One hand ended up in Joe’s hair at the nape of the neck.

Joe wasn’t crying, not yet. Nicky knew that he would probably find the strength to let his emotions come out once they would be alone in Malta.

For now, he was going to keep being his pillar - for as long as Yusuf needed it.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Breaking Down Walls | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  The reader has a writing deadline looming but she has hit a roadblock. Tom returns home and helps with a bit of hands on inspiration.

Warnings: Smut Desk Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Sex, Teasing, Fluff and Smut

-

You stared at the cursor on the screen, taunting you. A cruel reminder of the writer’s block invading your brain at every turn.

“By the Norns, I will never get this done!” you cursed to the air, your voice bouncing off the walls of your shared office.

You shifted your weight in the chair. Your back reminded you of how long it had been since you stretched or moved from your spot.

With slow movements, you rose and padded off towards the kitchen in search of tea and biscuits. You located a clean cup and your favorite tea. While you turned on the electric kettle, you hunted for the biscuits.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” you commented as you opened the cupboard and spied the biscuit package on the top shelf.

You climbed onto the counter to reach them, precariously perched on one knee. “Honestly, that man is trying to send me to an early grave.”

Tom was an amazing boyfriend but he forgets not everyone towers at over six feet. You have threatened more than once to hide his favorite sweater in retaliation.

You snatched the biscuits down with your fingertips and set about making your tea. As you headed back to the office, your heart filled with dread.

You regretted taking on this writing assignment. You loved romance but once the story hit anything remotely resembling smut; you froze up.

“Forget it.” you muttered as you detoured for your bedroom and the comfort of a warm quilt and your laptop.

-

Tom returned later that afternoon to a dark house. His brows furrowed as the house hung heavy and silent. Not a good sign.

His mood only darkened when he saw the office empty. You should have been working on your manuscript, as your deadline was only in two weeks. Tom beelined his way to the bedroom.

He discovered a lump of blankets shaped like you. He popped his head into the small opening.

“How does the writing go, darling?” he asked with a smile.

“You left the biscuits on the top shelf.” you grumbled, the glow of your screen illuminating your face.

“That well?” Tom chuckled. “Can I extract you from your cave?”

You pulled blankets tighter around you. “They have accepted me as one of their own. I can’t leave them now.”

“We will take our chances.” Tom’s muscular arms pulled you to a seating position. “Now…” Tom pushed your hair out of your face. “… there is my beautiful and talented girlfriend.”

“A hack or charlatan might be a more à propos description.”

“Nonsense, my darling.” Tom kissed your temple and turned you to face him. “You are a rare talent.” His fingers ran along the curves of your face. Your cheeks heated at his touch every time.

Tom pressed his lips to yours. You inhaled his scent of citrus and musk. You never grew tired of that smell. Your hands moved to lay flat on Tom’s chest. His heart raced under your hand.

“Now with that out of the way.” Tom commented as the two of you parted. “What writing conundrum are you facing this time?”

You squirmed in your spot. “Sex.” you muttered under breath.

Tom’s eyebrows raised. “Did you say sex? You can’t tell me you don’t have personal experience to draw from…” Tom teased at your shirt hem.

You swatted his hand away with a smile. “You and I both know that is not the problem.” Tom placed his hand on your hip. “I blame a childhood education comprised of Catholic nuns. Stupid smut wall.”

“Smut wall, sounds foreboding.”

“It is.”

Tom rose and pulled you to standing. “Well why don’t we read what you have so far.”

Tom trotted off towards the office and you lumbered behind him. When you entered the office, Tom sat in your chair, his legs splayed wide as always.

“Sit on my lap while we read.” Tom patted his thighs. You rolled your eyes but complied. Tom’s arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight against his torso.

“This is ridiculous.” you groaned.

“Now tell me about the story.”

“It takes place in 17th Spain. Camilla is a courtier in the Spanish court and she is betrothed to a Spanish noble but is in love with Tomas, the royal stable hand.”

Tom’s chest rumbled against your back. “I can see I am already going to like this Tomas character.”

You swatted his leg. “Hush you.”

“Where is your wall?” Tom leaned in to nuzzle his nose against the nape of your neck. You jumped, but he held you tight.

“Ah… well the Queen has invited Camilla on a horseback ride but she can’t ride. She has asked Tomas to help her.”

“Sounds like the perfect setup for naughty activities. Read it to me.”

You cleared your throat as you read out loud from the beginning of the chapter. As you talked of the tension between Tomas and Camilla, Tom’s fingers teased at the waistband of your pants. His fingertips ignited your skin with each touch.

“And that is as far as I got…” you breathed, distracted by his wandering hands.

“Perhaps you can have Tomas set up a saddle on one of the benches and guide Camilla through an imaginary ride.” Tom kissed behind your ear.

You bit your lip to suppress a moan. “And how would that lead sex?” you teased as Tom’s cock hardened between you.

“If you will indulge me…” Tom’s face trailed off as his lips trailed down your neck to find that spot on your neck.

“I always indulge you, dear.” you panted.

One of Tom’s hands held you fast against him, while the other one trailed down to tease your folds. Tom’s thumbs grazed the underside of your breast through your thin t-shirt.

“Already so wet for me.” Tom growled. “Someone is eager.”

“You are one to talk.” you sniped back as you rocked your hips and Tom’s lips left your neck as his head fell back.

“You minx.” Without further warning, Tom plunged a finger inside of you. You gasped and moaned.

“Such sounds. How I love to hear you come undone at my touch.” he purred.

Tom continued to pump his finger into you, soon adding a second one. The coil inside of you grew tighter with each expert curl of his fingers. You bucked your hips against the palm of his hand.

“Please…” you begged.

“Oh, how your pleas are music to my ears. Cum for me, my dear.”

Tom twisted his hand to allow his thumb to rub against your clit.

“Yes, gods!” you screamed as you orgasmed. Tom continued to tease you through it before removing his fingers.

He waited for just a moment before lifting you off his lap and placing you onto the desk facing him.

You glanced away as you noticed the wet spot on Tom’s thigh. He crooked his finger under your chin and snapped your head to look directly into his deep blue eyes.

“Are you ashamed of the pleasure I give you?” Tom questioned as he tugged at his belt. You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom stopped you. “You are mine.”

He lifted you up to pull your pants off, taking your panties along with them. His trousers pooled at his ankles, soon joining your clothes. Tom pushed your legs wide. He grinned as he drags the tip of his cock along your slit, collecting your juices along the way. “All mine.” he hissed as he pushed into you.

“Aaaah!” you moaned at the feeling of fullness. You never tired of this, the connection, the carnal need. To wholly give yourself to someone.

You jolted back to reality with the snap of Tom’s hips. Your legs wound around his waist for support and leverage. Tom’s pace was bruising and frantic. Your second orgasm fast approached.

“I’m close, darling.” Tom panted. He gripped your hips with his fingers, certain to leave a mark.

Me too was you could muster between moans. Tom shifted his grip, pulling one of your legs onto his shoulder while the rest of your body fell back onto the solid wood desk.

Tom’s public bone grazed against you and within a few thrusts, a wave of ecstasy surged through your body.

“Fuck!” Tom grunted as he spilled inside you as your pussy gripped around his cock, milking him with each spasm.

Tom collapsed forward onto you before lifting you into his embrace. His thumbs pushed the errants strands of hair from your brow. He kissed your forehead, then nose, before kissing your lips gently.

“Is that enough inspiration for your manuscript?” Tom whispered as he smiled down at you.

You nodded. “I think I can manage things now.”

Tom helped you hop down from the desk. “If you ever need some hands on experience…” Tom moved to give your ass a firm squeeze. “… I am yours.”

“Yes you are.”

Tom leaned in close as he guided you toward the bathroom. “And you are mine.” His deep baritone sending shivers down your spine as he shut the door behind the two of you.

[sunflower-cathedral]

Credit to Shadeswift99 for the idea!

Rating hermits based on if I could win a fight against them:

Xisuma: 10/10 I will ruin X without hesitation. All I have to do is think of that video where he talked rlly shitty on a gender topic. The amount of unbridled rage-

Joehills: 3/10 he will fight dirty and you cant convince me otherwise. He was close with the convex last season, he has gotten his fair share of getting his hands dirty and I dont trust it.

Bdubs: -10000/10 this fucker will probably destroy me. Look, I could easily go off about how short he is and use his desperate anger as a way to make calculated hits but he is so unhinged. I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is something so so so feral and unhinged in bdubs that's always 2 seconds away from exploding at any given moment. I am also shorter; and very competitive, which would feed into his competitiveness.

TFC: -1000000000/10 I wouldn't. I just wouldn't. I wouldn't even try to hurt him hes minecraft grandpa i love him :(

Cleo: 8.5/10 I feel like I would have a solid chance, but she plays dirty after the initial shock of being attacked. Tbf I usually try fighting her every time shes on the patron server when I'm also on. Also if the rewards of heads are involved she will win 1000% no doubt about it.

Stress: YOU WANT ME TO FIGHT HER?? AN ONLY PARENT WITH 3 CHILDREN?? WHO WORKS OUT?? NO. NO. SHE WILL BREAK MY SPINE LIKE A FUCKING TWIG IF I TRIED. FUCK-NO/10

False: 4/10 we would be an even match but me being a massive simp would bring my guard down. She could probably destroy my joints if she wanted

Scar: 11/10 I will snap his spine in half in seconds but I will feel guilt because I love him :(

Grian: 5/10 grians not the only person who can play dirty. It would be an even fight

Mumbo: 1000/10 hes a stick

Iskall: 0/10 no

Tango: I'm intimidated. 4/10. I dont trust him, I feel like he could break my neck from 4 feet away but also I feel like he doesn't have the skills against someone who plays pvp related minigames frequently

Impulse: I can and will beat the shit out of him without trying 10000/10

Zedaph: I dont trust a man who isn't afraid of the void and purposefully sits in said void -10/10

Cub: 3/10 he will snipe me to death NOT IF I SNIPE HIM FIRST- also I hate his skin so much its literal cultural appropriation (it's only cultural appropriation because it's similar to what leaders like Cleopatra etc wore: which is sacred to only the most powerful) so actually infinity/10 my pure blind anger and rage will kill him in a 200 block radius

Etho: ... meeehhh I dont wanna fight an OG today 0/10

Doc: look I get he fought God and lost only an arm and won, but listen. I'm A Uni Student. I fear nothing but due dates. I will destroy this man with every fiber of my being. It would be 11/10 but hes a new dad and frankly they're over protective. So he would easily break every bone in my body before I even manage to land a hit on him. 0/10

Wels: i would die for him. I would let him kill me and I would be happy 0/10

Xb & beef: I dont know them well enough but I feel like it would be a decent fight 4/10

Jevin: if he even looks at me he will implode bc of my hatred. I'm still so fucking infuriated by him invalidating and mocking Trigger Warnings infinity/10

Keralis: HE BETTER PULL THE FUCK UP I WILL DESTROY HIM 10/10

Ren: His muscles don't intimidate me, but his never ending support for the rainbow community would make me too weak to attack him. I would be bawling my eyes out and probably end up cuddled by ren. I could never. -1000000000/10

[ratsoh-writes]

Okay okay, now I have time. Ranking is on how well I'd get along with them.

Sans: 9/10 because of white chocolate. Seriously when you said white chocolate peanut butter cups I gagged. But on the plus side he will eat any white chocolate I get so I don't feel bad about throwing it out. Small friendly lazy friend, possibly something more. I too fall asleep with cuddles. But don't call me kid.

Papyrus: honestly 5/10. He ain't bad! He's cool! But I don't think we'd have much chemistry friend or more. Just waving as we pass by eachother and a few greetings or small questions. Not sure how to end conversations.

Star: 6/10. I feel like I could actually talk with him occasionally because of his charisma, but for the same reason I personally wouldn't get too close because I can never tell when super charismatic people are lying vs being honest. Sorry star! It's me, not you.

Honey: 7/10 I'd feel like we'd get along pretty well, but it would require some kind of catalyst to get there. 50/50 on if it would every be anything more than friends

Red: 7/10, I'm probably be on the fence of hanging out with him until I saw him being buddies with oak and then I'd know he's cool. 50/50 relationship potential

Edge: 5/10 I like him but we are in two different places. I would try to at least be on his good side, though. Probably wouldn't attempt unless we frequently met up for some reason.

Mal: 4/10 a little envious of his confidence but my brain would get too insecure around him. He cool. But we probably wouldn't be friends.

Cash: 5/10 he's alright but like Papyrus I don't think we'd every have a reason to interact. I will watch him pull pranks, but I do not want to get on his radar.

Oak: another 9/10. I feel like he would be harder to approch but the moment he tells a pun or a small puppy comes up to him I am pulled like a magnet. However I do want kids (I'm sorry, oak, it already happened) so he'd either have to get over that if we'd ship. I'm fine managing it myself. I do totally relate with some memory issues as I have face blindness so maybe we can share tips

Willow: 7/10 he cool. We have a lot in common! Too much in common. We could either help eachother or stress eachother out and I don't know which way it would go. Also his dog is scary.

Lord: 5/10. He's okay. I'd be friends with him but his conspiracies would have me worried about what other things he believes if I don't know him well enough and I might not do so because of that. Eh. 10% dating potential because he's thoughtful.

Mutt: 3/10. Nothing against him but the moment he realizes I don't read books for fun I think it's gonna be weird. I'd support him by buying his books but I would never read them, no matter how critically acclaimed it is.

Wine: 4/10 again I don't think our personalities would ever get the opportunity to get to know eachother, he's fine but I am not fashion. I own one pair of heels and I will not own more. I am looking respectfully at his kissing, though. Perfect domestic kisses thumbs up.

Coffee: 8/10. We will communicate by leaving small gifts for eachother. Pumpkin spice season will arrive and we will thrive together. 40% chance of romance he may be too similar. Bestie material.

Charm: 7/10 I think we'd be friends without benefits. I don't mind the topic of flirting but I'm also not 'bothered' by it.

Sugar: 7/10 because I'd like hanging out with him but I also can't relate to the hopeless romantic side of him so relationship def wouldn't work. Also ace.

Pluto: 5/10. Again! He's great! Just like Papyrus! I dunno. I don't have the same interests and... Oh okay, he's floating away again, bye

Jupiter: 3/10 too loud too much energy. I'm sure you're great just not for me even as friends

Pop: 8/10 I relate to him, especially the introvertness. I will leave him sticky notes near the vents. We will be pen pals.

Rhythm: 7/10 he is very impressive and passionate! But also too charismatic for me and also I give up when I am frustrated with dancing so I will admire from afar.

Peaches: 10/10 I didn't think about it until I ranked him but he's a good one! I would crush hard. Dunno if I'd be his type though.

Rancher: 7/10 👀👀👀 he STRONK but I am probably too intimated. I work hard enough for me but I'd feel like it's not enough for Rancher.

Mafia boys: I'll be honest mafia is a big no so I'm roasting them

Snipe: 0/10 holy shit the paranoia? Do you know how many red flags that is, BYE

Bruiser: 0/10 man you got some ISSUES and you need to work on those, --like actually take a moment!! -- by yourself LATER

Butch: 1/10 at least I know what to expect but Y I K E S

Boss: 2/10 no thanks but I get the vibe he seems like a good tipper so I'll give him that.

Ace: 1/10 charismatic and mafia? See ya never! 🏃

Slim: 2/10 I'm sure you're nice and all but I'll probably never see you and let's keep it that way

G: 8/10 he's fun but maybe too much for me in large doses. I bet he'd be my work husband but nothing beyond that.

Green: 9/10 independent, fatherly and polite? Sign me UP. -1 point for his tiny plants because if he gives me one to cherish I will accidently/maybe on purpose murder it, I don't care how hard it is to kill succulents. Please don't give me potted plants. In the ground I'll try but not potted.

Rust: 7/10 because I'd probably get jealous of his kid magnetism and second guess myself a lot. Otherwise he's cool.

Noir: 8/10 yeah man, let's hang out and see where this goes :)

Lilac: 5/10 he's a good guy but.. too many old ladies, too social for me.

Basil: 6/10 I think we'd be neighbor friends who wave and ask to borrow something. Look at the lawn after yardwork. Yeup.

Oh dang! You did the whole lot!!

Lol I love how you roast the mafia boys. I’m surprised boss and slim got as high as they did.

Willows dog chaos can be nice. She’s a 50/50 but if she likes you then it’s all clear

Peaches is 100% husband material

[digitalworldbound]

day one: sibling shenanigans

this is a day late bc yesterday was my birthday. ive tried to edit this, but it's like pulling teeth oof. anyways, excited for takari week!

The Yagami’s air conditioner did little to fend off the sweltering August heat. Despite staying inside, Hikari felt like she was melting. Yamato and Takeru fared no better. Their father’s central air had erupted in a cloud of smoke in the night, the boys waking up sticky, sweaty, and flushed. They arrived at the Yagami’s thirty minutes later under the guise of a video game tournament, but Taichi laughed when he caught the pair arguing over who got to sit closer to the fan.

Hikari stretched herself across their worn couch, feet barely poking over the arm. Leftover air from the fan whispered over her flushed cheeks. Taichi, Takeru, and Yamato crammed themselves in front of her. It was obvious that their legs had gotten longer when the three of them had to fight for dominance underneath the coffee table.

Some snacks were spread out on the table, but the heat subdued even Taichi’s stomach. “Yamato, you miss more shots than a damn Stormtrooper. Takeru was wide open! He would have been an easy kill!” A mop of brown hair playfully shoved the boy beside him.

“If I wanted to support some talentless douchebags, I would have bought a Nickelback album.” Yamato smacked the nape of Taichi’s neck. “And besides,” Yamato paused, “If he was such an easy kill, then why weren’t you able to snipe him first?”

Hikari snickered, shoving a socked foot in her brother’s face. His cries of indignation were no match for Takeru’s and Yamato’s arms as the held him down to let Hikari continue her assault. “Onii-chan, only winnersget to trash talk.”

“You boys are terrible, turning my innocent sister against me.” He huffed. It took a moment to shove the brothers off, their sweaty skin clingy together. Takeru laughed before grabbing his controller. He cocked an eyebrow in challenge, “Best two out of three, eh, Taichi?”

The boy in question only rolled his eyes, shifting to he could stand. Takeru raked his fingers through his damp hair, “Unless our brave leader is scared.”

“It’s not that I’m scared, I just…have to use the bathroom is all.” Even Hikari could see through his flimsy excuse.

“Wow, I can’t believe my brother is a chicken.”

He smacked her forehead on his way out of the room, skillfully ignoring the way she stuck her tongue out in his direction.

Yamato rolled his eyes. Pushing his hands together, Takeru gagged at the sound of his brother’s knuckles popping. The older boy merely laughed, twisting his back to enhance Takeru’s unease. “Well, we might as well as take a break. It’s hard to play with just two people.”

Hikari’s head perked up. “I can play with you guys.”

Takeru and Yamato shared a look before their laughter spurred Hikari out of her state of relaxation. “Hey!” her indignation made the boys laugh even harder, nearly rolling over each other. She crossed her arms over her chests, poking the boys with her toe. “If you just want to twiddle your thumbs for the twenty minutes that Onii-chan will be in the bathroom, then be my guest.”

“Hikari, don’t be like that. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when I win.” When he wasn’t fighting with her brother, Yamato was easily one of the more brazen Chosen. If the mood struck him right, he could even wind Koushiro up with his teasing.

She cocked an eyebrow, picking up her brother’s discarded controller. Takeru said nothing, but readied his player for battle. He had learned that of the two, Hikari was the more stubborn Yagami. There would be no changing her mind once it was made up. Scooting over, Yamato made room for Hikari between himself and his brother.

The round started; the brothers teamed up without a word. Within minutes, her avatar laid lifeless on the battlefield. Perfect.

“He told you so,” Takeru muttered underneath his breath. Hikari was unperturbed. “Can we try again? I just had to get a hang of the controls.”

With a poorly stifled laugh, Yamato busied himself with a bottle of water. He nudged Takeru under the table, shooting him a look Hikari had no trouble deciphering: It’s cute that she thinks she has chance.

“Why don’t we make it interesting with a little bet? Everyone bets a thousand yen, winner takes all.” She did her best to seem nonchalant, widening her eyes to lure them into a false sense of innocence. Like any good fish, they took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

A wallet was pried from a pair of shorts, crumpled bills mingling with spilled popcorn. The brothers wore matching grins of victory. If only they weren’t so foolish.

Her sly smirk dissipated into feigned surprise as she deftly maneuvered around the battlefield, ignoring the way their jaws unhinged at her victory. Yamato grumbled as a wad of cash disappeared into Hikari’s pocket. She ignored his squinted eyes.

“Beginner’s luck,” she said.

“Bullshit. Double or nothing.” Takeru didn’t even glance in her direction. Jaw set, the next round started before Hikari could grab on to her controller. Playing dirty had never been his style, but she had a sinking suspicion that he had her figured out.

She didn’t have long until the boys figured out her ruse, so Hikari worked quickly. Navigating the battlefield with a suspiciously practiced ease, she discerned the boy’s hiding places. Though they had teamed up, they were no match for Hikari’s digital prowess.

It only took her five minutes to wipe them out. “Hmm, that wasn’t my personal best, but it’ll do.”

With a curse, Yamato slung his controller on the coffee table. “Of course you would kick ass in video games. What can’t you do, Hikari? Please, tell me, so that I might actually have a chance at being better than you at something.”

Takeru rolled his eyes as Hikari shrugged in nonchalance. It was as if tricking men had become merely a pastime as if it had become a form of passive income. And Takeru supposed it was as numbers were whispered under her breath as she counted out her winnings.

She glanced up briefly, raising an eyebrow at the brothers’ sullen expressions. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be that way. Practice makes perfect, remember?” Her grin was downright devious. With a leap, she pealed herself away from the floor.

Taichi emerged from the bathroom as his sister toed on her shoes in the doorway. “Where do you think you’re going?” He could see the money crumpled in her hand, the sagging shoulders of unwilling victims.

“Icecream! My treat.” With a wink, she was off.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Taking Chances (spicyhoney, standalone)

Summary:   It was stupid. Idiotic, really, to gamble everything on one kiss.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, First Times, Angst, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Lemons, Standalone

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was stupid. Idiotic, really, to gamble everything on one kiss.

But that isn’t now. First, there’s this.

A Human came to Underswap, came and went, right through the barrier, shattering it behind them to lead Monsters out of the mountain, and now the Swap brothers were moving to the surface world. They deserved the chance, earned it through the weight of a child’s soul and Edge did not begrudge them that. Not that.

Two days after the Human came and went, Edge went to Underswap, walked from the machine in their basement right into the house through the unlocked front door. Once, he would have complained about their lack of security, but no longer. The living room was empty and so was the kitchen, there was little left to protect, only ragged carpet and a single sock lying close to a wall, surrounded by the falling tatters of post-it notes.

Edge ignored that. He went upstairs to the room at the end of the hallway where the usually locked door was standing open. He stood in the doorway and looked inside.

Most of the normal clutter was missing, the trash tornado dwindled to a mere vaguely swirling gust. There were boxes scattered about in various stages of being filled and the owner of both room and its contents was standing by the bed. The mattress was already stripped bare and the balled-up blankets tossed into another carton, the corner of a sheet dangling out like a flag of surrender.

“came to say goodbye, edgelord?” Stretch didn’t look up from the box he was packing with what looked like a collection of socks without partners. “surprised you’ve got the time, isn’t there anything in underfell that needs your oh, so superior mind?”

Edge said nothing. Two years ago, accidental fate brought them all together, skeleton brothers from Undertale, Underswap, and Underfell crossing the barriers between universes with the help of a strange machine. Six months ago, the Undertale brothers crossed another barrier, the Barrier. They were living their well-earned lives on the surface and without Monsters in the vicinity to power it, their machine went offline within a week. Yesterday was the first day Edge had seen Papyrus and Sans since then, here in this ‘verse to help with packing, and beneath the mountain it seemed there were many Monster-filled worlds, but the surface only held one.

Today was the Swap brothers’ chance to join it and perhaps someday the opportunity would come to Underfell, perhaps not.

Two years ago was when they’d first met. Two years’ worth of arguments and insults, of sniping at Stretch for his laziness and taking a verbal battering of his own for everything from his LV to his fashion sense. Endless banter between him and Stretch, or seemingly endless. Edge hadn’t realized there was a time limit until it was right in front of him, staring at him from out of cardboard boxes.

Unspoken chances were dwindling away with every moment Stretch spent packing. This was his last possible moment with the two of them alone, and Edge wasn’t one to gamble. His brother was the one who liked playing the odds.

There were no odds here, he was going to lose. The only question was how much.

Edge stepped into the room and took the shirt Stretch was pretending to fold away from him, ignored his startled “what the fuck--?” for the opportunity to shove him back onto the mattress and kiss him.

This was his chance, his one single chance to spread out on top of him, press their bodies together and feel Stretch's warmth even through two layers of clothing, one of which was a thick sweatshirt. Stretch was practically bleeding warmth and his mouth was no different. His teeth were closed against Edge's and he didn't care. He’d been awake all night, sitting sleeplessly on his own still-made bed as he considered and rejected strategies and, in the end, the only one that had any possibilities at all was this. This was his chance, his one chance, and if it was all he could get then Edge was taking it. If he could have nothing else, then he wanted this one kiss.

None of his hasty calculations included Stretch's hands suddenly sliding up underneath his shirt, warm against his spine, sandwiched between bare bone and his thin cloth. None of his strategies reckoned on Stretch pulling his legs up, knees on either side of Edge's hips, giving him a valley to rest in.

None of them even approached the idea of Stretch opening his mouth, sighing into the kiss and deepening it. Delicately tracing Edge's jagged teeth with his tongue, edging past them to coax his own tongue into movement.

It was the unaccustomed sensation of bewilderment that had Edge drawing back, ignoring the way Stretch followed him with a protesting murmur, until he could look down on him.

Stretch was rumpled, his clothes pulled off-kilter by such a brief kiss as though it had sent tremors through his entire body. His teeth were parted, soft pants exhaled between them like an instinctive invitation to another kiss.

This close the paleness of his eye lights was stark, but his gaze was languid, questioning. "you stopped."

"Stretch—" Edge murmured, hesitating. His gamble was a success, he was right and yet, in this one instant, once, he hadn't expected to be right. It left him floundering; these past few days had been hell on his equilibrium.

Stretch wasn't one to wait and consider; he rushed in hell-bent as often as Edge did, although for entirely different reasons. He was already drawing one hand out from beneath Edge's shirt, rising up on his elbow and pressing their mouths together again.

Such a hot mouth, Edge thought hazily. Pressed firmly against his own, wetter as Stretch again traced his teeth with his tongue, pressing coaxingly against the seam of his mouth until Edge opened it again and this time, he let their tongues dance together eagerly, pushing Stretch back against the bare mattress.

He was already rumpled. Edge wanted to see him devastated, wanted to destroy his arrogant calm and leave him in the same turmoil Edge felt when he’d heard they were moving to the surface.

Edge fumbled between them, catching up at the hem of Stretch's sweatshirt as he pulled and tugged it up, dragging the worn garment over his head and tossing it aside.

There was a button-up beneath it, of course. Stretch dressed in layers for warmth, a habit from years of living in snow and ice and one that didn't bother Edge in the slightest. He was more than content to peel this particular fruit slowly, to learn its segments from the peel to the pith until he discovered the sweetness within.

He did not, could not, have guessed that Stretch would sprawl back on the mattress and let him. No hints lingered anywhere of his supposed dislike of Edge, that façade burned away beneath shared desire. He tipped his head back with an appreciative moan when Edge carefully unbuttoned his shirt and slid both hands inside it to caress the delicate rib bones through the thin barrier of his undershirt.

Then even that obstacle was too much. Edge growled low and yanked both shirts over Stretch’s head in a wild tangle, both of them muttering curses as he struggled free. Once it was cast to the floor alongside his sweatshirt, Stretch fell back to the mattress, long legs wrapping around Edge as he dragged his socked feet up the back of Edge's calves to hook his ankles behind Edge's knees and hold him in.

No barbed taunts now. Stretch sighed deeply when Edge drew his hands down his ribcage, caressing delicate bone and cartilage as he made his way deeper inside to the intricate line of his spine. Fondling the ridges and joints, drawing out gasps and groans as he petted his way downward until his hands were thwarted by a belt buckle.

Stretch opened his sockets, Edge didn't remember him closing them and their sleepy droop was a match to his lazy grin. "don't let that stop you. you’ve already knocked, go on in."

Edge pressed his teeth together and took him at his word, loosening the buckle and tugging his belt loose with a slithery hiss.

The button and zipper were easily dealt with and beneath that, Stretch was wearing nothing at all, bare bones greeted Edge's exploring hand.

It was not a surprise, or it shouldn't have been. Edge was well aware that Stretch eschewed underclothing.

It was a surprise to feel the hard, damp line of his cock grazing Edge's unsuspecting fingertips.

"ohhhh," Stretch breathed, clearly as startled as Edge. Ridiculous, the both of them. There were a limited number of things Stretch could have been expecting from Edge opening up his trousers. Sliding a hand gingerly around his cock was certainly on the list.

Hot, damp ectoflesh against his bony palm and an inquisitive thumb discovered the tip was wet, a warm bead of moisture that Edge rubbed over the head slickly, entranced by Stretch's stuttering moan. The curl of his tongue was bright against his teeth before he bit the tip, obviously trying to stifle any further sounds.

Oh, that wouldn't do at all.

"Stretch," Edge said, drawing it out in a deep, baritone drawl, one that he had observed before pulling a reaction from Stretch. He was not disappointed with the results, not at all, the way Stretch's hips tried to hitch up despite Edge's weight atop him, the way he ground his teeth together to hold back whatever moans might be trying to escape.

"Stretch," he whispered again, a low, thick sound. "Stretch, should I stop? Do you want me to stop?"

Clearly the answer would be no.

However, he didn't anticipate the strength of his reaction, Stretch's eyes flying open, his hands scrabbling up Edge's arms and clutching at his elbows, holding him in position.

"no, i don't want you to stop, you idiot," Stretch gritted out and the flush of perspiration on his face was fascinatingly enticing, drawing Edge down to lick a stripe up Stretch's cheek bone to taste the salt-sweet of his sweat.

He made a sound that was part protest and mostly a plea for more, dropping his head to the side to allow for better access. Edge put a single finger on his chin and tipped his head the other way, giving the neglected side of his face a long, wet lick. Faintly salty and beneath it was a tinge of the soap Blue made, delicately floral.

"You don't want me to stop?" Edge murmured, muffling it into his cheekbone. Not that he was doing much at the moment, his hand was still tight around Stretch's cock, but Stretch was doing the work, rocking up into his grip in short, stilted little thrusts.

"no," Stretch panted, "no, don't stop. don't you stop, don't you dare stop."

"And so I won't," Edge agreed softly. "Is this what you want?”

It was a surprise to hear him suddenly say, “no, actually. it’s not.”

Long, thin fingers scrabbled at his own belt, tugging it open and Edge let them, his own breath hissing out as Stretch reached inside and took him in hand. Drew the hard length of his cock out and lined it up against his own.

The first rock of their hips together was an uncoordinated, stuttering slide and Edge groaned aloud, reaching down to hold their shafts together with an unsteady grip. Both of them gripping, stroking with hasty, chaotic desperation, breathing in each other’s gasps and groans in the small space between them.

Edge was the first to lose the struggle, his pleasure rising to an uncontrolled peak that left him coming with a disappointed groan. His shame had no chance to take hold, melting into sated pleasure when he opened his sockets to see the deeply satisfied look on Stretch’s face in the moment before he arched up and came himself, and the sound he made, a single soft cry, stirred something in the depths of Edge’s soul.

They collapsed together on the bare mattress and long minutes passed before Edge’s blurry senses told him that the rattling quiver of Stretch’s bones was not from the lingering aftershocks of pleasure but grief. He drew back, looking down at Stretch who glared back.

“you bastard.” Almost a sob but his eye sockets were dry and hot. “why now, why the fuck would you do this to me now?!”

Edge leaned down to press a soft kiss against Stretch’s cheekbone, teeth grazing softly. He said, honestly, “Because we ran out of time.”

“the fuck we did!” Stretch sat up, shoving Edge off him, but he didn’t go far. He straddled Edge’s hips, his open pants sagging as he pinned Edge to the mattress, their faces inches apart as he snarled. “i am going to the surface with my bro and i’ll be waiting there for you, you bastard.”

“No.” Edge shook his head, trying to pull away, but Stretch’s grip was surprisingly strong, thin fingers wrapped like wire around his wrists. “No, that isn’t what I want for you—”

“what makes you think you get a vote?” Stretch retorted. “i’m gonna be waiting for you and i’m gonna kick your ass for making me fall in love with you five minutes before i left the underground. asshole.”

Edge gave up trying to get loose. He sagged back on the bare mattress and closed his sockets. “You may be waiting a very long time.”

“maybe. maybe not. i’m leaning towards not. you get to the surface and you come find me.” His mouth was suddenly hot against Edge’s, teeth scraping painfully and words blurred between them. “you come find me, you hear? you find me!”

Edge said nothing. He only nodded and held Stretch close, taking each desperate kiss as it was offered to him, uncaring of any hurts. Soon enough he would go back to his own world to wait for a Human child that might never come, but that was then.

For now, he was here, and he was taking everything he could get.

-finis