#chronic old man lover

[kimberbohwrites]

My (36 yo) husband: *stretching and yawning, body makes creaking sounds*

“I’m an old man.”

Me (a 35 yo): “Yup :)”

Husband: *trying to tease me*

“That means you’re into old men”

Me: “Jokes on you, I’m into that sh*t”

*shows him Zevlor/Halsin/Raphael tumblr*

[kimberbohwrites]

*wanders outside to check mailbox to see if the prints I ordered from them are here yet*

A very wet Zevlor

[casperth3ghost]

guys how do you explain to your friends who have suffered for months hearing u yap about one specific character that youre losing intrest in said character

[mickgaydolenz]

old man micky for my beautiful, amazing, wonderful italian besties’ bday 💖💖💖

[twilit-creature]

I am not calling anyone out and its just my silly opinion...

But its so funny to me how there is people who say "I don't like that they made Sil sexy, he should be a scrungly weird guy!!" or something like that.

Then they make their own rendition of him and he is still hot.

[inkskinned]

nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.

gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.

oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.

but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.

sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.

greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.

okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.

here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.

people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.

you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.

pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.

[nthspecialll]

The fandom glorifies Arthur Morgan

Now I am not talking about about low honor, I play high honor and got it as the top at the end of every damn playthrough but my Arthur, as it is the cannon Arthur, is not a good guy. I am not going to talk about all of the murder, robbing and stuff he does, because we are majorly aware of it, I am talking his sexism, casual ignorance and disrespecfulness.

I quite often see people say that Arthur Morgan is a woman lover, and he definitely is, he is better than a lot of men from that time (which isn't hard), but he would not hold up in modern times, because he is not from modern times.

Generally speaking, Arthur Morgan is a man who believes in gender roles, he believes in the idea of "a man being a man" and "a woman being a woman." He has opinions about what a woman should do and what a man should do.

I think the biggest hint at this is his relationship with Sadie, because while he accepts her running with the boys he doesn't seem entirely happy about it. "You got a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" "You want to ruuuunnnn with the men?" and also "can Ms Grimshaw spare you?" when the girls asks if they can come to Valentine with him.

Talking of that quest, when he runs off to get Jimmy Brooks he puts Uncle, a lazy old bastard, in charge of getting the girls home even though they are more than capable of doing it themselves as they are healthy young women who knows how to handle horses.

In several antagonize lines against women performers (which are just as cannon as his greet lines) he shouts things like "That isn't very ladylike!" or "Go back to the kitchen" and "go make someone supper."

People keep saying Arthur would "treat them right" and he would, to an extent, he would care for you, he would be nice to you, but he would force those gender roles. He does have a belief women are somehow "softer" and that he as a person with a provider gene should do more of the harsh work.

So now we covered that, lets talk about the racism, or as I probably should rather call it, ignorance, because it is very commonly know Arthur does not judge by the color of skin.

The first one is that Arthur uses the whites-only saloon in Rhodes. Tilly mentions it to Arthur that they don't allow people of color into it, and yet he still supports it, it isn't a big thing but it is something of notice.

Secondly, when he talks to Eagle Flies where he "sets him in his place" Arthur, honey, you are so wrong here. Eagle Flies is being chased by the government for the mere fact that he exists with a different culture, you are being chased because you murdered so many folks, you can run across the sea and live a good life, they are fucked regardless.

When we first arrive in Lemoyne, Lenny and Arthur talks about the Lemoyne Raiders about racism and Arthur says "These boys got a manner about them but I haven't particularly noticed," Arthur of course you wouldn't, you are a tall, muscular, white man with sun kissed hair and blue eyes, you are the poster boy for eugenics.

Lastly, which will also bring me to the third point, the casual disrespect:

Arthur causally calling Javier a slur on the boat for no reason, did you really need that one-liner so badly? That goes for a lot of times in the game such as: "are you secretly normal" "what a lunatic" "we should find a better story for that scar" "But you continue to irritate me, I will kill you and make my appologies to the lady" "stick around and you might die for her as well" "oh I didn't know I was talking to a lady." All those were a slight bit disrespectful, enough to be able to annoy the majority of us if he said it to us, and they were also unnecessary.

He is also canonically chronically late, most notably we can hear Sean saying "that man will be late to his own funeral," and when you go around antagonizing characters in camp they are not surprised at all, rather they go "back at it again huh?"

All of this is just to sum up, Arthur is a pretty bad man (also counting in all the illegal stuff) and we tend to glorify him and forget some of these things, partly is also because Rockstar are amazing at hiding them, at making them seem natural, and they are because this is a historically accurate game! It is set in 1899 and this is a man from 1899 he is going to be casually sexist and disrespectful, and again, considering that he is from 1899 he is a decent guy because the majority of folk would be like Micah, not Arthur.

I definitely love Arthur, and I love Arthur exactly because the point of his character is him not being a saint but a human. His redemption is choosing to do good where he can, but even so, this is a man in 1899 and he is going to have a 1899 mindset. If you want to play a game that is set in the past but don't have that type of accuracy it is not Red Dead you want to play.

Also here is an Arthur pic as a thank you for reading all of that. I love him.

[tarjapearce]

Miguel x reader x punkmiguel?????

PRETTY PLEASE 🥺🥺🥺

Hope this makes it justice 😳 (No proofread at all I warn you.)

art by @bumbleboots_art in Ig

The Multiverse was still a baby concept for you. All you knew was that in other universes there were exact copies of you, doing any sort of things. A doctor that would surely make your parents proud, a stripper, that would surely cause the opposite effect. It was like Barbie and her own Multiverse.

Miguel had just quirked an eyebrow when you used the metaphor. But in your universe, you were another Spiderwoman, and you had been recruited by none other than Miguel O'Hara. HQ soon turned into a second home for you.

Annoying as you were sometimes, your input had provided him a different perspective, that bit by bit, had made you earn a spot in his personal circle. You adapted well, quick learner and practical.

---

Smoke filled in the place. The pressure levels from the particle accelerator had gone a bit too over the top, a miscalculation from both you and Miguel.

The explosion in the lab had created a rift, a small portal, enough for an unsettling scene stand before you, Miguel, Jessica and Hobie.

Another Miguel had gone through the rift, tearing through the fabric of space and time. But this wasn't your usual grumpy faced, sarcastic ass and perpetually tired with a chronic savior complex Miguel. No. He was just as tall as your groaning in pain boss, same facial structure. Yet he wasn't.

This portal Miguel had his hair ruffled, yet stylish, contrary to the neatly, well combed hair do you were already used by now. This Miguel had piercings in his face. His brow, and lips and ears to be more specific. He wore a leathery black jacket, the "NO FUTURE" caption drawn into it. Scruffy jeans with a studded belt and heavy boots. His fangs were out, he wore them proudly you had noticed.

Your Miguel, the one that was always grumbling about something, just stared back at him with a frown yet wide eyes. It was as if this Miguel had hung around too much Hobie, which just stared at him with a lazy approval smile.

A punk Miguel. They were face to face, seizing eachother with scrutinizing gazes. A typical 'opposite twins'. What archetype would each one be? Your Miguel would surely be the responsible and well behaved twin that would rarely to never break the rules. Describing the other would be to only make it out even more obvious.

The punk Miguel smirked at him.

"Puta madre, Qué viejo me veo." (Holy shit, I look old af)

Miguel frowned immediately as you giggled.

"¿Where am I?" The alternate version of your boss/almost lover spoke as he took in whatever his eyes could Guitar hanging upside-down his back. Just like Hobie's, hand tucked in his jacket.

"Miguel?"

"Hm?"

"Sí?"

The both turned to face you once more, speaking at unison.

"We need to send him back, as soon as we can."

"Should we give him a temporary pass?"

"No."

"Puedo oírte desde acá , jefazo." (I can hear you from here, Big boss)

Miguel scowled and faced him.

"Cállate." (Shut up)

"¿O qué?" (Or what?)

This Miguel smirked playfully.

"Alright, Alright. Let's calm down." You got in between them, nearly sandwiched between the mass of muscles and clothes to then create a bit of space between them.

"Let's play nice. We gotta figure a way to get him back home."

Punk Miguel wrapped an arm around your neck and spoke

"Gotta listen to her, old man. Don't wanna hang out in a place where you see yourself as the face of oppression. " Hobie saluted him from afar.

Ouch.

"Call me Miggy, Princesa."

Miguel's eye twitched at your stupified state and his words. You smiled at him, excitement sparkling in your eyes.

Trouble. Everything smelled like trouble. Jessica just rolled her eyes.

----

Reluctantly he ended up giving Miggy a temporary pass. Technically he still was Spiderman. His suit had you like a fangirl, marveling over the littlest details. Just like Hobie but darker and meaner.

Miguel would give you tasks, sometimes absurd ones, just to keep you away from himself. Literally.

"What's so funny?" You giggled as you went through the tasks

"Oh, nothing." The not so subtle jealousy from him was endearing to you.

The rest were as fascinated as you were. Miggy and Hobie surely clicked. They would ramble on for hours about their situations and how things were going in their universes. Never in his wildest dreams Hobie would admit that this Miguel was nice to be around.

---

Of course Miggy would scurry within missions whenever something caught his interest. He was more than capable in the battle field, still it was like having an unhinged different version of him. Still to this day it was bizarre to see himself acting like that. Like a total stranger.

Miguel couldn't help but wonder if he had gone through the same in his universe. He had overhead a bit of conversation with Hobie and just mentioned losing someone really important during duty. A requirement that seemed the only demand to join the Spider Club. As Miggy called it.

----

"¿Nunca te relajas?" (You never catch a break?)

"No."

"¿No is everything you say?" He smirked

"No. Yes."

"Con razón hasta canas tengo." (No wonder why I have white hairs.)

"¿Puedes callarte?" (Can you shut up?)

"The only good thing of being you is that we have this princesita here." He gestured over you as you sat down on a further chair.

"Guys, play nice." You mumbled as you entered the room. Miggy smiled your way, hands hoarding you briefly and twirled your body before letting you go.

"There is no we in there."

Miggy shrugged as he eyed you

"Sharing is caring, amigo."

"I'm not your friend. Nor share."

"Déjala elegir entonces. ¿O el pensamiento libre también es una amenaza para ti? " (Let her choose then. Or free thinking is also a threat for you? )

You couldn't help to shrink further and further at his words. Your cheeks were impossibly red, your stomach fluttered. Despite the fight, the both complimented eachother so well, like black and white. What one lacked, the other compensated and viceversa.

You gulped as both Miguels set their deep red eyes on you. Expecting. A shiver ran down your spine. The alarm of an anomaly flared up, you had never ran to duty so fast.

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ masterlist

A post-war story In Progress, Ch. 2/12 | Word count: 13.5k On Tumblr & AO3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - Join my taglist / WMTS' Spotify Playlist

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎> READ ON AO3 <

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / more soon!

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

— with you, at the end of all things - Levi x GN!Reader

You and the Captain stare at the ghosts of the Survey Corps at Fort Salta, and say your goodbyes. You're glad to be with him, here at the end of all things (wc: 1.3k).

— lessons in dancing - Levi x GN!Reader

Levi doesn't think you should be with an old man like him. You show him otherwise (wc: 2k).

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐓

Levi by Sfonsecan

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

[bellarkeselection]

Oh my, you're so right. There are not enough Will Halstead fics in the one chicago fandom. I would have an idea for this fine man. Maybe you like it.

It's the best fiends to lovers trope... I'm obsessed with this kind of stuff. They're both idiots in love but are too afraid to destroy their friendship when they would tell the other how they feel. Will is super protective of reader. Reader has a chronic illness (cause I NEED to see him in worried protective doctor mode) like a heart desase or asthma or epilepsy. So he always watches out for her helping her when she feels sick... One day he gets hit on at Molly's and reader sees him flirting with a girl. He starts to date the girl. The girl is super bitchy and is jealous of reader cause she's Wills best friend. So the girl tries to drive a wedge between reader and Will, maybe weave some lies, hurts reader mentally etc so that reader distance herself from Will cause she's hurt of what his girlfriend said to her or how she treats reader. That lead to huge emotional stress which flares up her illness. Reader is feeling bad both emotionally and physically. And it gets dramatic in some kind of way. Maybe Jay or another character notices reader getting worse and tells Will. And first he doesn't belive it, cause his best friend would tell him of she's super sick, wouldn't she? Until reader is admitted to Med or is found unconscious in her apartment or something else.

Sorry for my long rambling. This is just an idea maybe you like some parts of it.

❤️Love

Idiot Friends in Love

Okay so this is one of the longest requests I have gotten for Will so far. I honestly enjoyed writing this so so much and I truly hope I did as much as you asked for 🤗 🤗 🤗 🤗

@annieradcliff

When people talk about having a best friend you have to remember that no relationship is going to be the same as someone else’s. But when my friends think of a best friend duo they look at me and Will Halstead. We’ve been in the others life from the time we were five years old and haven’t left each other’s side since then.

He had went onto to become a doctor and I had persuade working in the same police department as his brother Jay had. Years ago when Will had a fight with his dad about wanting to go off to college I was there for the aftermath when Will stormed out. He told me the main reason he wanted to become a doctor was so that he could help people, especially people like me. I was born a few weeks earlier at the end of my mom’s pregnancy which gave me underdeveloped lungs and asthma.

Walking into Molly’s bar wearing some ripped blue jeans shorts and a white tank top I was looking for Will until I finally found him up at the bar. Striding over I was about to say something until I saw him with a blonde that I couldn’t really stand to be around. Her and I had gotten off to the wrong foot and she basically always made a point to lead my best friend away me. Heading to the bathroom I leaned my body into the wall just needing a minute to myself except to my surprise the very girl I didn’t want to see came up to me. “How long do you think he’s going to be there to babysit you hmm?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked her sensing some annoyance in her tone.

The blonde named Brooke snapped. “I mean he can’t babysit you and be your best friend forever. He is an ED doc and now spends most of his time with me.”

“Did he tell you this?” I questioned her knowing my friend was very busy as was I since I was doing everything I could to someday become a paramedic for Firehouse 51 with my friend Sylvie Brett who had recently joined the team.

Brooke rolled her eyes like I was an idiot or something. “He’s just spending time with you because he’s a doctor and feels it’s his sworn duty to protect you and make sure you’re well.”

“Will and I have been friends since we were five years old. So, I think you’ve got your thoughts mixed up.” Responding to the girl I had faith in my friend way before I would ever believe what this woman was saying.

She throws her hands away from her sides. “I’m just saying he clearly doesn’t have feelings for you like he does for me.”

“How would you know huh. Can you see what he is thinking inside his head cause I certainly can’t.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve seen your little asthma attacks the first time I met you at this bar. Do you seriously think that he’s gonna want to be with somebody with a disability.”

“I’m done talking to you.” I began walking away from her until she yanked me back by my forearm.

“Just face the facts and realize you’ll just be another patient to him and nothing else.”

Yanking my arm from her grasp I stomped away not bothering to talk to her or Will for the night. The next few weeks I had basically been avoiding Will’s phone calls or texts figuring that she was right that I would always be a patient in his eyes. I decided to take a walk and see Brett so headed to the firehouse seeing her stalking supplies inside the ambulance. “There’s my favorite paramedic.”

“Hey Y/n! I wasn’t thinking I would be seeing you today. How have you been?” She climbed down out of the ambulance coming over and embracing me in a hug.

I wrapped my arms around her hugging her back. “I’m good. How are you and Casey?”

“We’re doing good. I’ve been meaning to ask how are you and Dr. Halstead. I’ve been meaning to ask lately.”

I raised a brow at her question. “Me and Will. I – I don’t understand.”

“Oh please. There’s something clearly going on between you two.” Brett rolled her eyes like I just said something completely ridiculous.

I raised my hands waving them in front of my chest not believing that there was something going on between me and my friend. “I don’t think you understand the relationship that he and I exactly. We are just friends and nothing more. Besides I’m fairly certain he doesn’t think of me in that way.”

“Pfft I’m sorry but that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She made a noise snorting out a laugh. “Have you missed the signs where he sends you those lovey doe eyes, looking out for you, and I’ve never seen you hanging around anyone else but him since the day I met you two.”

“Look Brett, I appreciate you being hopeful. But there’s never going to be anything romantic going on with me and Will.” I felt my eyes beginning to water and I ran my fingers through my hair slowly feeling a tightening in my chest. I grabbed my chest gasping for air not expecting this to happen. “I mean why would he ever go for me. He has a girlfriend, regardless if she’s a bitch. But it’s fine – argh!”

Brett rushed forward catching my body before I could hit the concrete. “Y/n! Hey, hey, woah, woah. Kelly! Casey! I need some help out here.” She shouted before my eyes got heavy and I loosened my grip on her arms passing out on her.

I’m not sure how long I was out for by the time I slowly blinked my eyes opened and saw some bright lights that clearly looked like the hospital lights. I sucked in some breaths feeling a mask over my nose and mouth meaning asthma medicine was getting pushed into my body. The curtain drew open and I saw Rhodes enter the room carrying a chart underneath one arm. “Hey Y/n, you’re breathing seems to be doing better. I’ll just slowly take this off now.”

“Thanks Dr. Rhodes – uh where’s Brett – at?” I coughed after he pulled the mask down from my face and helping me sit upright more on the pillows.

He glanced towards the curtain answering my question. “She’s outside by the nurse desk. Will is actually with her too.”

“He is?” I asked leaning up feeling hopeful for a brief second.

He nodded walking out into the hallway waving them inside the room. Brett came in and smiled brightly hugging me and I hugged her back pulling away letting my best friend have my attention more than her. “I’ll let you two talk for a bit. Come talk with you afterwards.” She stepped outside the room back into the hallway leaving the two of us alone.

“I was so worried about you when I saw Brett bring you in like that. I mean I thought we had a better understanding going here. That – that we – “He stuttered out his words frantically running a hand through his auburn curls. “You’re my best friend so I thought you’d tell me if something bad was really going on with you.”

I did my best to lie, biting my lip unknowingly. “Will, I just had a small episode. You know flare ups can happen from almost anything.”

“I’m aware of that. But that’s not the point.”

I snapped. “The point doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does matter.”

Shaking my head I wished he wasn’t so argumentative like I was. “No it doesn’t. Look I’m fine now so we don’t have to have this conversation anymore.”

“Yes, enough of this. Okay I know you’re lying o me about something and I’m hurt that you didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it.” He raised his hands in the air.

I rolled my eyes wishing this wasn’t happening right now between us. “You don’t need to know all of my business, William!”

“We’ll excuse me. I thought us being childhood best friends meant we were much closer than you think we are!” He raised his voice at me in frustration.

Clutching my hands into fists punching the hospital bed sheets shouting up at my best friend with some tears falling down my face. “Gosh damn it Will just stop it. I don’t want to be your friend who is always a patient in your eyes. I know that’s all I’m ever going to be!”

“What. Who, who told you that?” Will made a confused face at me.

I scoffed. “That blonde girl named Brooke you’re dating. She told me facts that you clearly aren’t comfortable saying to my face.”

“Why would she say those things. We’re not together anymore.” He responded.

I parted my lips thinking he was joking. “You’re not. Why – why not?”

“She just liked the idea of dating an ED doc. I broke up with her last Friday. That’s what I was wanting to talk with you about in my multiple phone calls. But I guess I got my answer when you never answered.” His gaze lowered down to the floor and he went to leave.

I gently called his attention. “Will, wait a sec. What was the calls about?”

“They were about my feelings for you.”

Sucking in a shacky breath I wasn’t sure how to feel about what he was about to say. “Will, are you saying that you think of me more than a friend?”

Rather than giving me a verbal response he strides forward climbing up onto my bed with his legs on either side of mine. He gently grabs my face in his hands crashing his lips down onto mine not giving me a chance to say anything. It took me a minute before I ran my fingers up his arms wrapping my arms around his kissing him back.

Threading my fingers through his hair, tugging on it hearing him moan into the kiss. I thought this was a dream for a brief moment until he broke the kiss resting his forehead against mine. “You’ve always been more than a friend to me. I just - didn’t want to say anything and ruin what we have if you didn’t feel the same. And don’t ever think for a minute that you’re just a patient to me. You’re anything else but that Y/n.”

“It’s crazy that my reasoning for not telling you how I felt before now is the same reason as yours. It’s a relief we both come off as idiots in love.” I smiled chuckling resting my other hand on his cheek.

He sent me a cheecky grin. “Well can this idiot in love officially ask you out on a date tonight?”

“Yes, yes I’ll go on a date with you.” I leaned forward beginning the next kiss we shared. We were entirely too worried for nothing and it wasn’t too long after a few dates that Will was already working on having me become his Mrs. Halstead.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[kindofatheatrekid]

Soft Yandere! Veteran HCs (and a special something at the end!)

So I basically fell in love with this nameless man I wrote on a whim- And now I’m giving the dude a name now- My precious moot helped me to cement his identity as a jaded, Russian veteran and I obviously leaped at the chance of making an old dilf. I fucking love this man- 😀

This is definitely NSFW so…

MINORS DNI. MINORS DNI. MINORS DNI.

That’s better! ❤️

Soft Yandere! Veteran who’s at least twenty-five years your senior— and makes sure that you remember that. He’ll make sure that any bratty attitude coming from you will be promptly shut down. Whether it’ll be through a spanking session or giving your mouth something better to do… Well. It depends on how much you’ve pissed him off already. ^^

(Don’t worry, though. He’s too much of a softie to not ensure that you’ll enjoy every second of your “punishment~” 😮‍💨)

“In my days, cadets used to have their teeth smashed in if they mouthed off to their superiors. Shouldn’t you thank me for my leniency, love?”

Soft Yandere! Veteran who makes sure that you’re always well fed. He may have some food insecurity problems, and would never want his beloved to ever experience that gnawing hunger he felt in his earlier years. So say au revoir to any diets you want to do!

He’s a good cook too, so you bet he’s going to feed you every time you see each other. You’re always going to be greeted with food as aftercare— there’s no arguing on that. He will force-feed you. 😓

“A diet? Tch. You don’t need that. Just eat, dear. You need the nutrients for later.”

Speaking of aftercare! Soft Yandere! Veteran who knows exactly what to do after years of fucking women. …And maybe some men but we don’t talk about his soldier years- The man will wipe you down and massage every part of your body that aches after his rough treatment. Believe in the old man who has chronic pain every day because of what he did in his youth- He definitely knows how to relieve any muscle aches. 😌

Soft Yandere! Veteran who is a huge cuddler. He’s taller than you and is just a brickhouse— you’re not going anywhere if he wants to cuddle with you. He probably has a size kink, loves seeing you try to fit him in your mouth. He’ll be so condescending about it too, goading you on while he’s reading the newspaper like the senile man he is. 😩

“Come on, love~ Is that really the best you can do? You can take a bit more, right? For me~?”

Soft Yandere! Veteran who is Russian! The man never speaks crass words, though— always a gentleman through and through. His mama taught him right! He has to make sure that you remember your manners with him too! Say please and then he might give you what you want. It depends, though. Have you been a polite lover to him today? 🤔

“Mmm… I don’t know, Солнце… You’ve been so naughty today. I think you should beg some more for my cock~”

Soft Yandere! Veteran who has episodes of depression whenever he remembers the young men he killed in the battlefield. You can find him on the floor while staring at his countless medals— bottles of everclear on the floor with a few cigar buds in the ashtray nearby. A hug from you will help him a lot…

(Please replace the bitter cigar in his mouth with your sweet lips. Give him something else to think about. Better yet, why don’t you spread those thighs of yours? That will always get the old man going! 😊)

“...Thank you, лапочка. I needed this.”

Soft Yandere! Veteran who will never let you go. You’re just too pure for the world… He’s directly seen how dirty humans can be. You’re like a spring breeze to him, allowing him to relax his mind for the first time since he was drafted. Just listen to everything he says. Don’t you believe in him? 🥺

“...People… They can be cruel. Especially to wounded rabbits like you.”

You didn’t think that I’d just make headcanons after painting a scene in your head, right? Dear gods no! I want to be a nice author to you all! (At least until my mind decides to switch up and make angst- But you’re all safe! For now.) 😈

Anyways! I’m going to show y’all a blowjob scene with this old man now! Have fun! ^^

(It’s gender neutral this time because you’re sucking his dick-)

You thought he was being too cruel right now. Here you were: on your knees, serving the man while he was enjoying his morning cup of coffee. If you could talk, you would’ve whined at him for his attention; to get that dumb paper out of the way so he could fuck your mouth like you knew he could. He was undoubtedly affected by the way your lips were wrapped around not even half of his cock, though. There was a reason why his hand had a firm grip on your hair— not allowing you to pull away nor go deeper.

The old man had way too much patience compared to you, not even budging when you start to paw at his clothed thighs. He’s spent years on the battlefield, dear. The man can neglect his own needs as long as you learn your lesson. Your parents must have not taught you very well, but that’s fine! He can show you exactly how to stay in the lines.

Your desperate whimpers send shivers down his spine, the vibrations making his warm cock grow hotter— a familiar warmth pooling underneath his stomach. His hand tightens around your locks, a deep sigh escaping from his lips before he even knew it. You got what you wanted, his attention. And oh… You have his full attention.

A low growl was your only warning before he forced his cock down your throat— his hands now occupied with pulling your hair like it were a horse’s reins. You couldn’t breathe; he was big, and he knew that. You could barely see his sly grin through your tears, but you could feel it. By the way his hand was kept on the back of your head to keep your spit-covered lips on his cock. By the way his other hand was patting the top of your head so affectionately. By the way he cooed at you like he wasn’t choking you on his dick right now.

“Aww~ Is there something you want to say, Солнце? Come on~ Use your words for me, hm?”

The bastard was taking pleasure in your helplessness; he knew that your throat was far too occupied to do anything but let out a few muffled whimpers. Whimpers that went straight down to his weeping cock, his balls tightening even more when he sees how prettily you were silently begging for his mercy. The old man was just getting his rocks off at this point.

He kept on using you, bobbing your head over and over again— he was an old soldier, he knew precisely how long he could keep you gagging before you’d pass out. It was like a game to him in a way, seeing how far he could physically push you before you were on the brink of passing out. You were seeing both stars in your eyes and black spots; your adrenaline peaking from this deadly game. One where all you could do was trust the man in front of you that he knew what he was doing.

His endurance was no joke even after over a decade, you didn’t know how long it was before you could finally taste something bitter on your tongue— his head tilting up as he groaned. You were still gagging, your head pushed as far as possible when he came in your throat. The thick, slimy liquid going down your throat effortlessly as he slowly slides you off his limp dick. A round of coughs greeting you after your lungs were suddenly filled with oxygen after a while with barely any.

All he did was pat your head, grabbing a cloth from the table to clean up the mixture of his cum and your drool and tears off your face. His palms tenderly cupping your cheeks afterward— steadily lifting your face up before he presses a soft kiss on your now clean lips. A satisfied smile curving up his lips when he sees your blissed out, lost expression; your usual bratty self not seen at all.

“Hm… Better.”

Translation:

Солнце = sunshine

лапочка = sweetie pie / cutie

BRO. THIS. THIS DOES THINGS TO ME. Y'ALL LIKE THIS OLD MAN TOO, HUH??

"I know what you are."

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this prompt list (send me some if you'd like!) prompt #s 6, 20, and 122

pairing: steddie | word count: 544 | rated: T

Eddie Munson has been hopelessly pining after Steve Harrington for years now.

So many years that the pain of longing has scarred over.

It’s still there, don’t get him wrong; some days it hits him just as bad as the day it first started, but, in general, it’s devolved from white-hot to chronic.

And now, as he watches the man of his literal fuckin’ dreams turn to walk away from him toward what could be his actual doom and leave Eddie and Dustin to the same, he can’t take it any longer.

 “Hey, Steve?”

This is it, all he has to do is ask for it; shouldn’t be too hard, right? He’s hoping against hope that Steve will take pity on the nerdy virgin freak in front of him, and just do it.

Eddie takes a quick breath, and says “....Kiss me.”

He doesn’t even ask. By semantics, he demands it, actually. Eddie tells Steve to be his first, and possibly last, kiss.  But right now, on the precipice of whatever the fuck is about to happen, he can’t bring himself to care.

Steve doesn’t have to know it’s his first kiss, doesn’t have to know what this would mean to him.

Eddie just looks at the younger man, watches indecipherable emotions flit across his face while Henderson flips his shit beside him (it’d be funny if Eddie wasn’t about to pass out and throw up from nerves simultaneously).

Then, against all odds, against Eddie’s very own Munson Doctrine, against all things that should even be possible—as if whatever being in the sky that had been bullied back to let all the others beat down on Eddie and his luck over the last three days got a second wind enough to toss him a scrap of good—Steve Harrington strides back, cups Eddie’s face in both hands, and kisses him soundly.

Steve’s lips slot between Eddie’s like they were made to be there, soft against Eddie’s chapped ones.

Steve’s face feels gross and grimy under Eddie’s nose, pressed into his cheek like it is.

And he smells.

Hell, Eddie undoubtedly smells like BO and old lake water, his breath for sure is a horrendous combination of morning breath, stale beer, and Spaghetti-o's, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Steve stinks, Eddie stinks, they’re both shaking with nerves and with the cold of this upside-down hellscape…and it’s amazing.

Eddie feels everything in him hum to life; The chill of Lover’s Lake that had clung stubbornly to his bones is just gone. Like it’d never been there. The connection to Steve is pouring everything new, beautiful, and wonderful in the world down into his toes. He could live in this moment for the rest of his life.

He feels like he’s glowing.

Eddie grabs the front of Steve’s new/old bomber jacket and tugs him as close to him as he can, his mouth chasing after Steve’s when they finally part.

Steve doesn’t go far, only pulling back enough to drop his forehead to Eddie’s.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Eddie.” he says, fanning hot, nasty breath of his own over Eddie’s nose. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “I’m not going anywhere, big boy.”

Turns out, Eddie’s a liar.

[sciderman]

do you think Peter is naturally drawn to wade because he’s the one person in his life who essentially can’t get hurt in any universe.

Mj has almost died multiple times while dating Peter, Spider-Man saves her a lot and publicly speaks to her, that made her a target.

Gwen did die. And Peter being him, still blames himself.

Harry either goes crazy or dies, sometimes both.

Norman goes crazy and dies, all the time.

Aunt May is old, she’s not gonna be around forever and often times, she isn’t.

But Wade isn’t them, Wade is gonna be around forever. He’s going to be with Peter until the day he dies and the day Wade has to watch Peter die. Maybe it gives him some comfort, Wade can handle himself and even if he gets hurt, he always comes back from it. Yknow until eventually he doesn’t.

just silly thoughts 😋😋

those thoughts aren't silly! those thoughts are SAD!

i see this take in my inbox a lot and it's kind of the first reaction anyone ever has when first encountering spideypool – this is almost baby's first spideypool take, sorry anon. and for me, it's broke. it's a broke take.

"this one can't die" is a horrible reason to date someone, sorry. and the durability of said partner has never been a factor in who peter parker chooses to date.

i like to think peter's drawn to wade for a reason almost entirely opposite to that - he's drawn to wade because he's dangerous, not because he's safe.

i like to think he's into wade for the same reason he's into putting on tights and getting into fights. for the excitement. not because "this one can't die." i don't think that even comes into consideration for peter. and i don't want it to come into consideration for peter. it's such a horrible, awful reason to date someone.

i don't think peter even takes any solace in wade's immortality at all. wade can still get hurt. and peter will still, instinctively, jump in the line of fire for wade. it doesn't even come as a consideration for him, to just, you know, let wade get hurt, oh, because he can heal. no!!

peter isn't smart enough for that.

he thinks with his heart, not his head.

and i don't think peter even truly believes wade is immortal. i think he's seen enough superhero bullshit in his time to know nobody is truly immortal. and i think peter having lost so many people close to him - it doesn't allow him to feel in any way secure that his lover is immortal. anyone feels immortal at the time. until they aren't.

peter worries about wade. worries how reckless wade can be - how wade doesn't seem to care about the damage he sustains because he thinks he can heal but peter - peter doesn't see it as that simple. and he knows some wounds can't heal.

i even think - just a little bit, that wade's immortality might be something that - miraculously, peter feels guilty about. i think peter feels more worried that something will happen to him – spider-man - and he'll leave wade a widow. i think that's something he'll feel bad about. it's honestly why i haven't touched the idea of peter finding out he died in civil war - he'll bug his own head so much - not about his own mortality, but how guilty he feels to have left wade with all that trauma.

so no. no! wade's immortality does not give peter solace. it keeps him up at night if he thinks about it too hard. peter can't not worry, it's chronic. and for all the reasons he should be relaxed that wade can't die, he worries about it all the more.

[affableramen]

Assorted creditor Pantalone x afab!debtor reader headcanons. Episode one

((highly requested))

tags: tsundere!pantalone ; condescending, slightly vulgar villain ; he is a meanie ; toxic relationship ; early stage of relationship ; manipulative Lone ; slight degradation+humiliation ; choking ; slap dynamics (you slap him) ; degrading names (“bitch”) ; pet names (“kitten”) ; sexual themes ; criminal themes ; pantalone has chronic illnesses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Madman’s note: I like mean guys and judging by what we know about Pantalone so far (Arlecchino’s voice-line, Lazzo teaser, Wriothesley’s weapon, Pantalone’s artefact) he fits this category perfectly. I see the pattern of a rude boy here. Charming on the outside but once he opens his mouth it’s disgusting (hahaha.) He probably likes mocking and lecturing others, that’s for sure vibing in the Lazzo. He also talks a lot (thanks Cholde). As for the toxic assorted au, Ik half of you don’t like reading gentle n sweet Pantalone, but when I see this man I just can’t imagine him being cruel to his lover who accepted him when the Gods did not. I really think he is very soft inside (with a person he trusts). He’s all about equality and fairness so probably he treats people the way they treat him, and if ur nice to him, well Panty acts with equal respect to you back. That’s for the personality part. Speaking of other aspects, at least you guys get a happy ending. Coz I hate bad endings. Don’t wanna fuck up huge efforts. The angst and struggle was worth it. Come get your man guys. He’s like the mean classmate who bullies you but is secretly in love with you. As for the gentleman part, I wish I could write something more than just him protecting the lady, coz I believe Pantalone to be a big deal of a gentleman who has his standards even though what he does for a living is very questionable. I’m afraid it will be too much information for this post already. I must also mention that he might say a lot of disturbing and condescending things in the beginning. Oh, and to avoid any misconception--i don’t like writing innocent readers. My reader is fierce, chronically exhausted and crazy.

⟣

“You will be my prize. A perfect fit for a powerful man like me. You have no friends, your parents are far away, the only person to care for you is your grandmother who was, for sure, foolish enough to take a loan from Northland Bank. You are helpless in front of me, and I enjoy seeing that smug smirk disappear from your face once you realise you’re completely at my mercy. All alone, with your life depending on me. And I will, by any means, show you mercy if you are worthy enough.”

Said Pantalone as your résumé was forcefully slapped down on his desk. Your past jobs, experiences and skills — all in front of him, in his long fingers which are sliding through the pages as if it were an action book.

Your grandmother, indeed, was the only dearest person you had and, unfortunately, in order to save your life (and future) she took the risk of becoming a debtor to the old devilish banker who was by any means an extremely questionable person.

You had a rough path of changing jobs, trying to find the most fitting and well-paid one, however ending up in only worse conditions. A few years passed like this, the workload traumatised you so much that you couldn’t believe two years had passed since you started doing work for a living. Your grandmother was too prideful to retire, but you both knew her money alone could not sustain your happiness.

And thus, you ended up under Pantalone’s sharp gaze. Now, standing up in front of him with an unfazed expression, knowing too well this man just adores chewing on others’ suffering.

“Fuck you and your long ass monologues”, you think but your face remains cold.

The tapping of his fingers suddenly stops. You feel your heart sink, and it makes you wanna vomit.

“What was that? The look on your face just a moment ago”, Pantalone takes his glasses off and looks at you sharply. You can feel that heavy presence with your skin alone. The violet charm of his eyes suffocating you. His whole presence does nothing but choke you.

“Beg your pardon?” You narrow eyes and ask him as politely as possible.

“Were you thinking something a bit ago, dear? Or should I say, were you doubting my professionalism?”

“Shit, he is reading my mind. I have to think about something stupid.”

“You’re so untamed and so… wild, I’d say”, he says as he rises from his desk and approaches closer to you. “But alas, I can’t discount your value after one mere impression, can I? That would be too unconscionable of me as a businessman.”

You see him lean to your ear, his body bending cause of how tall he is, and you feel nauseous once he opens his mouth again.

“Your résumé is trash, but I’m not a monster everyone thinks I am. I will let you work under me because of how persuasive your grandmother has been. Though, I’ll be watching you, kitten. Perhaps I’ll even put you under my strict supervision—"

A sharp slap lands on his cheek. That is the moment Pantalone should realise that your pride cannot be underestimated. With his face thrown to the side, he pats his cheek, holding his fingers on the reddened skin.

“…at the lowest position”, he finishes the sentence. “Heh, the audacity of yours.”

Pantalone grabs your throat, your is suddenly pulled closer. While being choked heartlessly you turn your eyes to him and hold them for a few long deep moments.

“I’m not afraid of you”, the words come out of your mouth weakly. “Just let me work for you. I won’t be plotting anything. Not interested, to be exact.” He keeps suffocating you, you almost roll your eyes at the back of your head before the banker finally releases you. You slowly fall onto your knees. “Haah… hha…”

“I’d never be mean to a lady. But a particular someone just doesn’t know any manners.”

He signs the papers quickly, squeezes a used draft in a ball and throws it into the trash bin. The signature he leaves on your zero-hour contract is so lazily made as if the man wanted to deal with you as soon as possible.

“Don’t disappoint me. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m angry.”

“Thank God”, you sigh in relief, despite being choked a few seconds ago.

His movements, his body are so quick and flexible, you do not notice how the eyeglasses return to his face.

“You have a zero hours contract here, but I’ll personally make sure you work not less than six days a week.”

“Just so you know, I won’t kill for you. That goes against my principles.”

Pantalone raises his eyebrows, giving you a bored look.

“I wouldn’t let you have a privelege like that anyway. I have enough henchmen of my own to stain hands with unneccessary violence.”

When the conversation ends, you go to the bathroom and throw out. This man gives goosebumps, and he is not easy at all.

To your biggest surprise, as a leader Pantalone turns out capable enough. Just seeing him intricately managing his resources and employees makes you admire him at some point. No matter how unattractive his personality, for sure, was, none could not deny the fact that he is a skilful individual. He possess finesse and determination. Though speaking of his other traits, you cannot ignore the fact how suave he is. Women touch him with or without his consent all the time. And you’d agree: the man is attractive. Affable demeanour in public, though quite closed in private. “Closed” is an understatement. He is, in fact, incredibly emotionally unavailable.

His ill-favoured personality, hidden under that affable demeanour and polished looks, however, could not prevent you from falling. For him. And you are gradually finding yourself more and more addicted to him. Brushing off these ideas as soon as possible, of course. Occasional touch of your fingers, frequent looks he’d give you. You cannot remember the exact moment when Pantalone started showing signs, but you remember well that his glances in your first meaning were anything but interest. As you are a “special” debtor with a large sum to owe, Pantalone almost cages you in his main office buildings. To your knowledge, there were a few of them, but out of all people the fate of working with him has fallen onto your shoulder.

There was one day when he scared you.

“You… killed someone?” You ask, holding your hand to your chest as you walk into his office to bring some papers. But they are dropped down the moment you see the so-called crime scene. The heavy metallic scent of blood blocks your breathing and you dream of disappearing from this room, however it is too late.

“Just taught a disagreeable debtor a valuable lesson”, Pantalone walks out of the shadows, lighting the cigarette right in his own office.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the blood on his face once he makes himself visible.

“What are you doing here? Ah, the job. I almost forgot.”

A panic attack crashes you sooner than Pantalone inquiries.

“Why the sour face? Just put the papers here and you’re dismissed.”

You look down at the body next, and even if!(fat chance) that person is alive, you cannot pull yourself back into the calm state.

“Are you deaf? Put your stuff on my desk,” the banker commands, wiping the blood off his cheek.

Your vision goes blurry when you see his stained with crimson skin and you feel like fainting.

“I don’t… exactly like… seeing blood, yes.” You turn away but lose your consciousness the moment after.

When you wake up you find yourself lying in the leather couch, a blanket dropped sloppily over your body. Pantalone is sitting at his desk per usual, working on his papers when he sees you slowly come to senses.

“Alive? Good. Now go back to your duties.”

You rise from the couch slowly, pulling the blanket down and slightly wobbly proceed to the door.

“Y/N.” Pantalone stops you with his voice.

“What now…” you think. But your expression softens one you hear what he tells you:

“There is a bottle of water I left for you on the desk. Take it. I’m not exactly eager reviving you after another fainting because your careless ass is dehydrated”, he stops writing with his left hand and says again, this time harsher: “And never enter my office announced again.”

“Thank you”, you take the bottle of water the Harbinger offers you. It has a distinct spicy scent from cologne lingering on it. “Your couch reeks of tobacco, by the way.”

One time, when you save him.

Pantalone storms into the office visibly injured and infuriated. You can see his secretary come up to him, presenting some sort of intel while her hand slips under his sleeve trying to pull his gloves out. You see it all through the small doorway.

“Lord Harbinger, you must have had a tough mission, let me release this stress of yours…”

The other employee of his, a male, presses a wet sponge against his expressionless face. Pantalone, seemingly weak and tired doesn’t respond immediately to the secretary boldly roaming her lustful hands over him but a while after his consciousness makes itself known. He grabs the recently presented papers and slaps the woman’s hand with them.

“Sir—”

“Have you two no shame? I need privacy. For once, just leave me alone!” He shouts, uncharacteristically to him. Both the secretary and the lowly subordinate rush out of the room under his strict command.

When the shift ends you can see everyone leave the office, however there has been not a single move from Pantalone’s office since he shut his door. You look on the clock, it’s already 9:15 p.m. Why is he not going home? You decide to spy on Pantalone. Soon, as everyone has left the office empty, you raise from your working desk and go to check on your CEO.

“Pantalone.”

You knock, but the response is none.

“Pantalone, coming in.”

You push the door slowly. Even his spicy cologne mixes up with the metallic scent of blood. You walk in the office and feel your heart sink at the sight: the banker is lying on the floor, as if he had fallen from his desk, there are lots of tablets scattered around the floor, and a bottle of wine, shattered, the salty smell filling your nostrils. The ashtray on his desk is full and messy. Everything looks chaotic and Pantalone himself is, for sure, out of character.

He is unconscious as he is lying on the floor. You rush to him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder and start shaking him.

“PANTALONE!!”

He doesn’t wake up and you have to resort to drastic measures. You slap him. At that, he finally comes to the senses.

“This is the second time you have slapped me. Are you not afraid of the punishment I might force upon you?” he asks, groggily putting his body into a sitting position.

“Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”

“I’m perfectly fine handling some scratch.”

“Just a scratch? Then, what are the tablets for? I thought they were painkillers.”

You see as Pantalone examines his own mess, and his expression is calm yet a hint of exhaustion can be spotted.

“Clever”, he says. “I was beaten up, and my muscles obviously hurt.”

“And the wine?”

“To relax.”

“I see.”

Pantalone eyes you once again, his face extremely pale and tired. “Are you done? You can go home.” He turns away from you, you don’t know what he’s doing but you hear a drawer being pulled and Pantalone let out a short sound similar to groaning. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk. You see a used needle roll across the very same desk…

“You’re… you’re diabetic?”

“An astitute observation” (silently). “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

You analyse him from the top to bottom and deem this person likely not being able to get home himself. You open your eyes to offer taxi, but realise that he has a personal chauffeur. “Right, rich people…”

“That’s all? You won’t even give me a lecture for spotting you in such a vulne-” Pantalone’s gaze becomes so evil that you rethink over the choice of your wording. “In such a predicament. I mean, shouldn’t your mighty self cut my tongue in order to prevent me from gossiping about your health concerns?”

“You’ve been reading far too many detective stories. I’m not so…” he sighs, realising that given the circumstances of his long list of crimes even as a polished businessman he is a perfect match to Meropide. So Pantalone cuts his wording as well. “Forget about it.”

“You sure will be alright?”

“Worry of yourself, it’s getting quite dark and seems like rain and thunder.”

Wow. That’s a gentleman indeed! He won’t even offer you a lift? You roll your eyes.

“I’ll get home just fine. And also, you reek of alcohol. Can’t have the employees think poorly of you.”

You don’t even know if you are happy with your doing or not, because if you didn’t wake him, he’d probably be lying there on the floor until the very morning.

As you’ve cleaned your desk and taken your coat on, ready to leave, you see that the raining outside has become even more aggresive.

You walk outside and slip on the first level of stairs. “Great.” Before you could dial the number of the taxi, you hear the voice behind you stopping you.

“Don’t need to spend money. You’re coming with my chauffeur.”

“No thanks, I am quite fine being al-ready indebted to you.”

“That won’t need repayment. You saved my life. If I were not woken up in time, and didn’t inject insulin, I would most certainly end up in a coma not long after.”

“Especially considering that you drank wine”, you think.

“If you insist. Look like today I’m but a slave of the weather conditions.”

Pantalone hums to your response and leads you to the sleek black car. He throws the door open for you and gets onto the back seat with you. Once he’s settled and you wait to be dropped off your place you notice the holes on his gloves, revealing already dry blood stained cuts. You are only able to see them properly now, due to your close proximity.

“May I ask who attacked you?”

“It happens quite often so no one is really surprised by now”, he clears throat. “An assassination attempt. But I’m faster” he gives you a warning look, by which you conclude that the killer is no longer alive.

“I see.”

As you’re dropped off safely to your place, you sneak into your bedroom before your grandma has questions. As you lie in bed under a fuzzy blanket you cannot brush his scent, the mix of spicy cologne with blood, off your mind. The sight of him almost helpless, injecting that insulin like he was on a thin ice, stays carved into your mind as well.

⟢

[revelisms]

New WIP has me deep in the emotional whumpzone (per usual)—so even more Ghost headcanons: Angst Edition. Because why not ❤️‍🩹

CW: Family dysfunction, parentification, negative self-image, anger issues, relationship issues, grief. Also some heartwarming-ish moments? Sorta kinda? (;-;)b

Primo

Faced the harshest transition within the church as the first successor to the new Order, having to meet both the old clergy's expectations as well as the standards Nihil, as part of his bargaining, had been pressured to achieve.

Also saw first-hand much of the darker underbelly of the church (e.g., murders caused by the ghouls, corruption in the clergy, etc.), which he tried to shield the younger ones from witnessing. It's not all champagne and caviar in these halls—especially at the top.

Has had few consistent lovers in his life, but has loved them all deeply. Getting beneath his surface-level affections can be challenging, though. He has a kind, nurturing presence with most everyone, especially those he likes to have around—but as a partner, he can be protective to the point of patronizing. Very cautious, at times condescending, and ultimately fearful of ever losing someone again. Loves like a dragon guarding a horde of gold, and can get just as ugly for it.

Didn't want to have to step into the role of essentially father and mother for the boys, but he felt he had to. There's a hardness to him, for that, and a sense of young adulthood that he's lost; he feels ancient in a way that's difficult to explain, and always has. There's very little of him that feels youthful anymore.

His love for gardening runs deeper than most take it for. He's always been interested in healing magick and herbal remedies, and it's an older field of study he gravitated to in his earlier days. He's been on the cusp of too many tragedies to turn a blind eye to it, now, and so this is his way of doing something. He sees himself as too old, too frail, and frankly too booksmart to do so, otherwise; it's an underlying resentment of his, after watching too many ritual acts go wrong.

Having the Sight of clairsentience (aka: seeing into the minds of living things) has made him a bit of a chronic skeptic. He has lost his trust in most things; the few that he keeps to are the realms of possibility and self-determination: that what he sees in one moment does not have to be Truth, overall. But it hurts, being cursed to know what others truly think and would wish to do, even if they won't voice it. He tries to stay kind, despite that.

Secondo

He was always an angry child, and wrestles worse with his frustrations as an adult. His spite and his rage have fueled him; in many ways, Wrath has been the one constant of his life. But it has broken countless relationships in the process, and created a reputation that most siblings fear.

He's a very bitter, armored man—and, as a result, can be a bit of an ass—but he's aware of it. (Unlike someone else. Grumble grumble.)

Despite their theoretical closeness in age (I HC a bigger gap here), and quite a few shared emotional traits, he and Terzo couldn't be more polar opposite. Since Secondo was unwantedly looped into Primo's surrogate parental role once he got older, he took the brunt of this with Terzo, who was hell to manage. He has a lot of regrets over this, and puts silent blame on himself (in fairness, more than he should) for Terzo not getting the support or affection he should have when he was younger. Their relationship has always been strained from this.

Daddy issues out the wazoo—and it's translated into most relationships (work or otherwise) he's had with authority figures, since. He's a beast to deal with, when it comes to the clergy; most members of the cloth will toss him straight to Nihil before they have to even think of handling him (which is disastrous, in itself; he's inherited much of Sister's traits when it comes to bickering Nihil into place, and their All-Father can't stand it...but c'est la vie).

In short: Hell forbid you share a table with these two. Copia and Nihil's mess is tame, comparatively.

Genuinely one big tender-hearted teddy bear beneath it all, but few are given the privilege to see it. He's a very romantic man stuck in a complacent chain of disposability, and he's made his peace with that. He's certainly not an easy person to love; being in a relationship with him is a constant yo-yo of moods that can explode at the drop of a pen—but with the right balance, with someone who can ground him, he could rival the poets of old with his lavishness. Roses and wine and sweets for days. (And kisses. Satan, don't forget those.)

Having the Sight of retrospection (aka: seeing the the past) has been both the root of his fascinations with history and, ironically, his complete disgust of those who claim to study it (...which he is, but anyway). It's also led to some hard wounds due to Primo trying to safeguard him from the darker nature of the church as a child vs. the realities he was forced to bear witness to once gifted the Sight. It broke a lot of his security in the doctrines, and his trust in Primo. As a result, he views their eldest, above all, as a liar and has learned to take the guidance he shares with a grain of salt.

Terzo

Was a very rambunctious, escapist-driven child, and it has led into him being a flippant, snide, and at times callously individualistic adult. However, this battles with his desire to be valued by others—most of all, to help someone feel better in themselves. He's incredibly kind and soothing, when he wants to be.

The mix of priorities can be puzzling. As much as he can be selfish in one moment, he would roll out of bed at 2am to conduct a blessing for an insomnia-riddled sibling of sin, without question (which is...other WIP shh). This can make it hard to know where one stands with him, and whether any special treatment they've seemingly been given is all that special, after all.

Can be extremely petty for the spite of it, often through comments that cut to the bone, but almost as frequently in performances he knows will pull eyes. Nihil and Sister are often the joint instigators of this, and it tends to trickle down, unfairly, into his treatment of Copia—though he knows it shouldn't. He's not proud of this, and attempts to curb it when he can, but in many ways his temper is a mirror to Secondo's own; once something sets him off, he can become fiercely cold and hurtful. Getting on his bad side is a vile place to be.

Has, for lack of a better term, a tightly controlled persona: almost impeccably funny, sly, and suave, especially once he's ascended into the papacy (and been put on a tightwire of clerical demands). Few have seen the quiet, withdrawn, fidgety side of him. Few, he doubts, would want to.

At his most fundamental, he is heavily driven by a need to feel seen, accepted and loved—but he's repeatedly sabotaged it once it's been given. The siblings dubbed him a "loose kite" well before his Cardinal days: someone without a tether bound to land wherever (and with whomever) he wants. Most are aware that he's an egregious flirt, and little else, and have learned to never take his affections too seriously—and, to an extent, that's exactly what he wants. On the other hand, he's shot himself in the foot with this: a self-fulfilled prophecy of nothing ever panning out (and one he fears ever panning out at all, as much as he wants it).

Having the Sight of premonition (aka: seeing the future) has been dual-edged. He's seen the beauty of his own future, and of select others, countless paths over—and, just as wickedly, their demise. Countess potentials, countless lovers, countless beings, countless deaths. It has never been a source of peace, for him; he can only know with certainty what may occur once he has taken the first step onto a bounded path. Starting the route to his Papacy was his only confirmation that he was doomed to fail—but, for years, he knew little else.

The biggest splint in his Path, always, was Omega. Saints and demons, it was always Omega.

Copia

You could fill a jar with the things this man would nitpick about himself—and still, he would nitpick more—but he is nothing if not a source of reassurance for any who have known him: both in his bumbling Cardinal days, and in the slow-sewn confidence he's found in his senior roles. One of the sweetest, if sweetly awkward, souls one could meet—but give him any passing compliment, and he'll scrape it under his heel.

For all he craves true praise, hungers for it, he is so hesitant to believe it. He has never felt good enough in his own skin. Not for Primo's success, not for Secondo's intelligence, not for Terzo's confidence. Certainly not for the clergy's standards. And Sister—Mother—well. He's never quite known how to untangle the dreams she poured into him from his own.

Was effectively the black sheep of the family for much of his youth, despite receiving more affection from Sister—which, in retrospect, only added to the resentments. He had always been seen as an other, most harshly by Terzo, who felt that his ability to even have a relationship with his own mother was squashed by Copia devouring her attentions.

Losing them all made it easier, in some ways. It had to be done. (Hell, he misses them. He misses them so much.)

Loving him can be an overwhelming experience. As a partner, he goes overboard on the regular (often, humorously, with disastrous results). It's challenging sometimes for him to realize he doesn't need to perform, in this; that he can just be. He hadn't taken the best cues from Terzo, in that—but who else could he have looked up to, but Terzo: who was beautiful, and desired, and bright as a star?

There's a cruel irony in that. Terzo had never quite opened up to his little brother—but if he would have, Copia would have only known how much they had in common: how much of their black-sheeped image-loathed performance-pillared suffering they'd shared. (But the past is the past, now. Copia can't think on that, too long.)

Having a belatedly repaired relationship with Nihil and Sister has been complicated for him. There's an unspoken attempt at correction, for their (seemingly) final and "true" heir—attempting to be a better father, a better mother, to be a family. He'd never quite had that, in all those years before. A part of him loathes that only now he's being given it.

The Sight of clairvoyance (aka: seeing the Bridge between realms) is strange sort of blessing, in this. They're all with him, always. Through life and death, through all of it. And perhaps that's what he'd always been meant to be—a homestead for those lost souls to gather; to live free again, if for a moment. He finds comfort in that, much as he can.