#even though YES i see the irony and how fucking funny it would be for carver to spend all of da2 telling his brother

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Carver's really come a long way since, "So... you're not like a lot of other girls."

[volkoss]

Hello tumblr user volkoss I come bringing offerings of Thoughts About Them

Please consider: Johanna feeling wronged when Emmrich chooses to give up lichdom to bring back Manfred because how dare he need someone other than her waste his potential and make a fool of her for having lost to someone who came that close to lichdom and then chickened out

But also consider: her reaction when Emmrich became a lich and they were supposed to keep their situationship going forever only for him to get killed in the final battle in Minrathous. Will the lich lords even listen to her if she demands they bring him back? Would it be possible? Not because she cares of course it’s just that. Uhm. No one but her is allowed to kill him. Yes that’s it

And lastly a third scenario to imagine: Hezenkoss helping bullying Lich Emmrich into getting it together after a romanced Rook passes away because she hates to see him so depressed is not putting up with his melancholy for the rest of eternity

Hello, nonny! These are all such wonderful scenarios, so please know I am holding you tenderly in my heart for depositing them so generously into my inbox earlier today. I have also rotated some similar thoughts before, so I dare say we might be sharing a braincell! Some further considerations for your considerations: 1) I like to think this is pretty much canon if Emmrich chooses Manfred over lichdom, insofar as the wasted potential and making a mockery of her failures go. Headcanon-wise, I like to imagine another layer of Johanna's upset is that lichdom was something that she and Emmrich worked on together and he is not pulling his weight in the group project 😤 I do also like to think that she feels replaced by Manfred on some level. (All of the above is due to come up in Enduring Friendships, btw!) 2) YES. I love any explorations of Emmlich (even though I haven't written any myself yet) and the dramatic irony of him of going to all that effort to just... cark it at Minrathous is especially delicious. That being said, he is very insistent that his body be returned to the Necropolis should he fall in battle, so I suspect it might be likely that the lich lords would revive him anyway? It would be very funny for Johanna to not know that and make her demands anyway and for the lich lords to be basically be like, "girl, that was never in contention. also, how sweet of you to actually care" Aside: now imagining some fucked-up universe where Emmlich dies repeatedly (at Johanna's hands or by other mechanisms) but he just... keeps on being restored. It's free exposure therapy! 3) ALSO YES. Headcanon accepted for Emmlich universes. I'm doing something similar with my Manfred-route fics, so this outcome does not surprise me at all. Johanna should be bullying Emmrich at all times tbh. It's for his own good. Thank you again for sharing, and I hope you (and anyone reading this) has as much fun rotating these scenarios as I did!

[hamliet]

Hi I love your meta about Hazbin Hotel, and I wanted to ask what you think about specifically Lute and Adam's relationship?

I see it as perhaps a prime example of an unhealthy power balance in a relationship, but not a romantic one. I could see an argument for unrequited love on Lute's part, but it's not particularly clear. I think it's more like adoration on Lute's behalf and ego for Adam.

I also know @aspoonofsugar is working on a meta about the angels that will touch a lot on this relationship, so I'll let Sugar do most of the meta-ing here, but I will say a few things.

Adam reminds me of a cult leader--a person who uses the ideals of a religion, philosophy, or political matter to prop up themselves. He doesn't even believe anything necessarily--he believes only in what benefits himself. All things are permissible. His end is destruction, his God is his own desires, and his glory is in his shame (hence why he gets stabbed by Niffty in the dick). He only cares about sex and his own comfort. He is God in his own mind, and his pride is his downfall.

Lute: Angels make no mistakes! Adam: Yeah, I've never made a mistake in my fuckin' life!

I do think there's a deliberate irony here, and a retelling to a degree of the Fall in Genesis where Adam's character is taken from--Adam's pride, falling for the serpent's words in Genesis 3:

For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

But the serpent here is not the literal serpent or the character of Lucifer. Instead, it is Adam's own ego and pride. It is part of his humanity, but he refuses to consider that he could have any flaws. He's flawless. He's God. (He's not, and that's why he dies.)

I do think Hazbin is deliberately criticizing white American evangelical Christianity, and I strongly suspect Adam's character is modeled after a particular category of preacher : the sex-obsessed dudebro. See Mark Driscoll; there's a whole podcast called "The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill" that details his story. And here and here for the tl;dr version. I witnessed this in real time, and know people who survived his church.

These men are almost always brought down by people exposing their own abuse of their power, yet they always crawl back. They do not care about Jesus or God or any belief. They only care about aggrandizing themselves and the world being exactly how they think it should be.

Lute is extremely deferential to Adam and tries to uphold his idiocy. You could say she's a bit of a "pick me." But like Vaggie, she's kind of a victim of brainwashing, and I feel for her. Her admiration of and love for Adam is genuine on her part. But that doesn't make it less toxic, and Adam uses that loyalty to get her to participate in mass murders and yet, when called out on it directly, humiliates Lute.

I think my favorite exchange between Lute and Adam is this:

Adam: Extermination Day is here, bitches. We're going to go down and exterminate demon ass! Lute: Destroy that ass! Adam: Prepare to slaughter every sinner in that shit hotel, and you all remember Vaggie? [The Exorcists all boo Vaggie] Exorcists:��Boo! We hate her! Lute: Rip Vaggie's cunt mouth out her ass! Adam: Would you just-ju-chill, Lute. Fuck. Anyway, whoever brings me Vaggie's head gets...uh, I dunno, a million Heaven bucks. How about that, huh?

I have actually seen several YouTube critics laughing and saying "when even Adam thinks you've gone too far, you know you're whacked" and the like. Except, I think that misses the point of this exchange (though to be fair it is comedy and it is funny so I'm not saying it's a wrong impression, just that I think there's a poignant layer to this).

Is anything Lute says worse than what Adam says? Like, Adam has himself said extremely cruel things. Like this:

Oh, fuck yes! I win! Suck it, bitches! You better save the date, cunts, because we're coming to your hotel... first!

But when Lute does it, Adam is repulsed because he knows how it looks to his other followers. His followers can be flawed, after all. He can't be. He throws Lute under the bus for stating exactly what he's asking for in no uncertain terms to remind Lute who is boss, and also because he needs to maintain his position of power.

It's exactly what all these dudebro sex-crazed theobros routinely do. When one of their followers states exactly what they mean without any "heehees" or glitter, they disavow that person when in reality that person represents exactly what they've always said, just without any cloaks. And usually it's a woman. The women who side with these men get hung out to dry eventually.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #36

36. FINLAND Windows95Man - "No Rules!" 19th place

Decade ranking: 143/153 [Above Nadir, below Let3]

Okay so, I promised in Saturday's post that I would try to be positive, but I may already have to rescind on that promise lol. (the "lol" is for punctuation because I definitely did not laugh.) "No rules!" stinks and has very few redeeming qualities. 🙂 Natalia was right, she WAS robbed by a Nudist Demon!

For real, does anyone over the age of twenty-five enjoy this dumpster fire? If so, fukk meee. LOVE YOURSELVES.

As I noted in my UMK review back in Feb:

I have difficulty buying into this hyperactive ball of bad taste. “Fuck The System” always feels like the go-to message of individuals that fail to fit into social structures that aren’t fully of their own shaping. For an entry that’s all “live as you like, there’s no rules!” in its messaging, these two look like they conform to just about every styling and behavioural rule associated with Zoomer culture: A total disregard for general aesthetics over a dumbed-down drone of a beat because everything is ironic and nothing is to be taken seriously.  It is a depressing take on life. Yeah sure, a bit of camp levity is welcome in this loathesome world, but any happy song that weaponizes irony like this one trends towards encouraging irresponsibility, cynicism and nihilism. Some things DO matter in life, you know? You need to afford your bills and groceries, charge your social batteries, cultivate your friendships, or else you’ll wind up living alone in a van, down by the river. But if the latter life appeals to you, then this is the entry for you, I guess. For me though; this contest is already has one Joost Klein. Let’s not add a second one from Finland.

Funny how I nailed that even before knowing the full extent of it. I ofc vastly underestimated how bad the live would be, and as soon as I'd seen it my scepsis immediately supernova'd into intense HATRED. If ONLY "Paskana" hadn't been weak as piss. Yes, the cringe in "No Rules!" is deliberate, obviously, I have a sense of humour. Having a sense of humour is why I hate it? How much "deliberated cringe" can one tolerate before concluding "nope, this is r o t t e n." Does it start with

THE BAD GUNTER IMPRESSION?

or

THE DONALD DUCKING?

or

CALLING HIMSELF" A QUEEN"?

or

screaming "SEE ME SLAYYYY" :proceeds to not slay: ?

It definitely ends in whatever this shot is supposed to be.

Humour is subjective sure enough, and Windowsninetycringeman's jokes fall flatter than a pancake á moi. Why is everything denim? Why is this THIRTY-NINE YEAR OLD MAN still engaging in toilet humour and internet speak? Grow the f up? The art lies in the execution and Finland showed neither. I do NOT like Europapa much, but having Finland and not Netherlands in the final vibes wrong on so many levels. Europapa at least had a clear plan and delivered its nonsense in contained, piecemeal doses? It was COMPETENT in what it attempted to be (A Televote Winner), not a lazy amalgation of simple-minded drunk jokes strung together over a Planet of The Bass megamix as some sort of a Hail Mary. Joost and Teemu represent the Expectations/Reality divide of Zoomer Nonsense and it was darksided that only the latter got to compete for points. But on top of that, Teemu was generally just full of shit? Hooray, an Old Millennial engaging in Zoomer Cringe who lets an actual zoomer do all the vocal heavy lifting, without giving him a single featuring credit. Yay! It's a painfully accurate depiction of what being a zoomer is like, but not an intentional one.

Also remember when Teemu said he would "try to discreetly approach the other contestants to find ways to show support for Palestine" (remember that this contest was supposed to be 'not political'?) Hm yes discreet. So discreet he declared his intentions to interviewers so that everyone would know it was HIS idea. "Discreet", human please. And the result of all that talk was...

(lol I'm SO making it sound like I care about what political standpoints any of these acts took, and I don't. But I do call out a fraud when I spot one.)

Yeah well thanks for trying, but I'd rather you hadn't. A statement you can apply to my feelings of the entry overall. Okay, we've reached full circle, time to move on to our designated palate cleanser because THIS page is a safe zone for people of good taste.

The universe where YLE overrules the results and sends THEM to ESC is the one where we head to Helsinki twice in a row.

THE RANKING

[beevean]

I hate the defense of dramatic irony for Lanolin's actions, to be honest. Especially because it's not even good dramatic irony: it just stems from characters being idiots and shit friends to each other (see: the entire bit of Silver and the DC in issue 63 and 64.) Sure, Lanolin can't know Duo is Mimic! But 1. We as audience sure do because we are constantly beaten over the head with it, making her be a bitch all the time extremely frustrating because we KNOW she is wrong, and 2. She SHOULD, because the only reason she hasn't noticed yet is because the plot demands the DC to be betrayed again no matter how OOC everyone must become to make that so.

Also, Whisper saw Duo kick Silver and he clearly told her Duo's face changed (of course not to Tangle and Lanolin too though), so why is she hanging out with him now?? Even if Duo's lifethreatening four feet fall didn't show he was Mimic, does she doubt herself so much that she thought she imagined the kick too or something?? Girl just pull off his glove and check his hands, you know the puckers on there are Mimic's clear tell. Or even his brown eyes, Duo's color, or the fact he looks 80% like your dead friend.

As I said in the past, Lanolin was a terrible choice for this sort of plot. You know those cartoon episodes where the antagonist pulled pranks, and then the protagonists got blamed in their place, and it's all haha funny hijinks? This is the same thing, which is already not a very engaging plot, because the characters we care about are getting punished for no fault of their own. To make things worse, we don't know Lanolin! She has just appeared in her new #girlboss version, and right off the bat, she's antagonizing characters we have spent years knowing and getting attached to, both the comic OCs and canon characters.

Why would I want to side with her, or see her POV? She is wrong, she is not entertainingly wrong, and her behavior is not only nasty, but even unfair in-universe: she has brushed off both Silver and Whisper without giving them a single chance of explaining themselves, especially bad in the former's case because it was a case of "he says, he says", but she immediately jumps to berate Silver and treat him like an idiot instead of doing the leader thing and try to listen to both sides. And as for Whisper, yes she was stupid to not bring proof with her, but the moment the name Mimic slipped out of her mouth, Lanolin should have at least questioned her more and tried to understand why she was suspecting Duo, instead of immediately being like "WHY ARE YOU HARASSING MY POOR LIL KITTEN 🥺". fuck that "she cares about everyone and it shows", she's only biased towards Duo, which would be unfair even if he wasn't the villain in disguise.

Forget Duo, I don't even know how Whisper can hang around Lanolin by #67 without secretly seething for this whole accident. I really, really don't like how she orders Whisper to "control herself" after she says that she suspects Duo is actually the guy who traumatized her, especially after she learns that she was betrayed and has good reasons to not trust easily. Where's all that compassion now? Brings all sorts of unfortunate implications about how Lanolin sees Whisper. (also "Silver is one thing" sounds really demeaning too)

Yes, it makes sense for the kind of character she is meant to be, the no-nonsense rule stickler. I'm allowed to think she's an ass and to say I find her thoroughly unenjoyable.

But yeah, Whisper simply letting all go makes her look very weak and insecure. "welp, guess Lanolin was right, and I was dumb! Oh well, my trauma makes me unstable! No hard feelings bestie!" yeah no it's not how it works. It doesn't help that in her next appearance, Sonic also walks all over her resentment towards Surge and guilt trips her into accepting the girl who beat her up and stole her Wisp friends - this poor woman cannot catch a break, everyone treats her like shit.

[symbioticsimplicity]

What are some Hazbin Hotel/ Helluva Boss head canons you wanna share? (Yes, I AM asking for you to ramble to your heart's content about the blorbos!)

I love you so much. 💚💚💚💚💚💚

This got real long so its going under a read more.

Hazbin Headcanons:

The sigils that float around Alastor when he uses magic are not actually a part of his powerset. They're part of the leash on him.

Lilith is not in Heaven relaxing, she's spying on them

Husk hasn't preened his wings properly in years and its actually a big part of why he's so goddamn grouchy

Lucifer has the same problem but make it part of why he's so depressed

Charlie has wings but even she doesn't know that yet

Alastor DOES have a deer tail but he either keeps it hidden inside his pants so it can never been seen or continually removes it

Angel can in fact spin webs but hates to because its fucking weird and instinctual and he does not like having his thorax out

Angel is venomous

Contracts by nature nerf the sinner they're attached to unless otherwise specified, and by that logic almost every member of the Hazbin cast are significantly stronger than they're aware of. With the exception of Husk, who held onto his power, and Alastor who knows EXACTLY how much power he's missing.

Valentino legitimately loves Vox but it isn't mutual (the IRONY)

Velvette doesn't change hairstyles, she changes her whole head

Lucifer’s blood is both addictive and toxic to demons in the long term. It tastes like apple cider and FIRE

Alastor absolutely hates it, he tried it once and it was far too sweet for him

Music is ACTUALLY a legitimate form of magic in the Hellaverse and particularly powerful because it can have unintended effects and it is irresistable.

Alastor IS redeemable (ask me about this only if you want the essay)

Helluva Boss Headcanons:

Millie was a prison guard at the jail Moxxie and Blitzø met through.

Octavia's powerset is routed in precognition, but she hasn't begun to explore it enough yet to have realized that

I don't think this is a headcanon exactly but I'm manifesting Loona/Tex/Bee

Fizz tops

Verosika still has lingering feelings towards Blitz and she is PISSED about it

Stolas has been watching that same soap opera since he was a kid

Literally none of the other sins like Mamon its not just Ozzie

MOST of the sins are cool with each other, or at the very least like coworkers about things

Its possible to BECOME a Sin since in this verse they're not fallen angels

The current sins are (mostly) not the original demons to hold those titles

Blitz's Dad is still alive

Striker is demi and TIRED.

If he had taken the deal, Striker actually would have followed through with what he'd told Blitzø

At the circus, Blitzø didn't actually have a room (was given to Fizz though he wasn't originally angry about it) and often times he slept in their horse stable. The horses would let him sleep on them and its a big part of why he loves them so much

Fizz also fucking hates Blitzø's Dad

The agent that got possessed can now see demons as they are despite glamoring

Blitzø is actually genuinely hilarious he just has this issue where if he TRIES to be funny he CANNOT do it.

Moxxie doesn't cuss because his Dad cusses A LOT and he sounds too much like him when he does

Millie is one of those people who is good at literally anything they try the first ir second try and it pisses off both Blitzø and Moxxie, but Moxxie at least tries to hide it because he loves her.

Loona is ticklish as FUCK but if anyone ever learns that, they die

Octavia actually wishes she had a sibling

Millie is the only person who doesn't think Striker is all that hot and does not understand the hype

[olgunia]

also... i feel like writing it down and getting it out of my system but... i mean... i told my boyfriend and two best friends... and my new therapist. . .. (i'm finally getting help!!! and it turned out that i was right!! it is that i have been suffering from utmattningssyndrom [exhaustion disorder] for the past 2 years! and also! finally i accept the fact that i have been suffering from it and i feel less of an impostor and also!! for the past 3 months i have been recovering and feeling better and better with every week, i wanted to cry last week when i was able to cycle! every day!! it was impossible even a month ago, i felt so humiliated with how little energy i had all the time.. usch, don't wish that shit on anyone) said that we're gonna Look Into It.. TBC

ok but yes, the thing is that 3 months ago one thought struck me and that is that i may be autistic.. at first i did cry bc i felt overwhelmed and scared because i have this imagine in my head of prejudice and lack of understanding what autism really is and that people on SM are trying to be quirky or special or whatever, i don't even know! it just felt so overwhelming.. but after that i had conducted more research that has been ongoing and.. i think apart from the fact that i just feel like i'm an impostor and that if i would say it out loud - other people will think that i'm 'making it up' (hehe that hasn't happened and those 3 close ppl are supportive BUT!!!) ---- apart from that.. the more i read and think - it just becomes more apparent that i am on the spectrum! and once again it feels like a lot but on the other hand it would explain so many things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! some silly things like me having to ask people if they're joking bc i really can't tell lol, same with irony, to not getting if someone is flirting with me, to people believing i'm being flirty while i'm just interested and excited about the topic and want to be nice lol, me losing my fucking everything and exploding internally while having to go for e.g. on tour - no matter how much i like someone - to be in the same space [car/venue/sleeping place] and to not have enough 'alone time' is just! i just fucking cant! mental breakdowns every 2nd day! i hate spending too much time with people (that doesn't apply to my boyfriend though but till exempel to my family/friends) in the same space! ----- and i mean... i have been diagnosed with ocd and social phobia while being a teenager but there were some things that have been.. puzzling me and now! it feels like i found the missing puzzle! and it feels both good and weird

and other things like being naive, an open book, shitload of thoughts, feeling intense feelings towards stuff - loving/hating, having hard time with 'not exploding' and att hantera emotions, seeing 'patterns', these whole stemming thing- whenever i listen to music that i love it's just.. i just cant NOT move fingers or hands or legs, getting stuck with some sayings/catchphrases that change every now and then, i guess i also overshare stuff but hard to tell hehe, always trying to learn how to navigate small talks and talking and social things, being called blunt, believing that i lack empathy because i just.. i cant imagine how it is to 'put myself in someone's shoes', loving 'shitposting' or wordplay bc they're either absurd and therefore funny or just easy to understand hehe, planning things, not being able to summarize things, doing lots of lists, i just f-ing love to research, getting sucked into things and having a very hard time to get out but also having a hard time to start doing shit and more things bla bl albla lbllalalal.. . .. writing it down so i can have it for future purposes

but yes.. it's scary but good i guess to realise that? Smiley Emoji

[thisismassachusetts]

Matthew Pasquarello

The Pawn Shops Are Closing

“A True Way To Do Things”

    You step into some sort of “spotlight” and you attempt to do something that you try to justify its “originality” even though it’s been done before, not only that, it’s been done before and done before and done before but you attempt to do it in a different way, you’re going to be begged for the formula, they’re gonna ask you how you did it and you’re gonna smirk and shrug. And you’re going to be wrecked in the ridicule.

Unless of course you already made us millions of dollars. After all, we consider greatly the artistic ability of the already proven method.

Cheers, baby.

-Hollywood.

-

    “You don’t know what you’re talking-talking-about, I’ve had so many call-blacks. I mean backs. That asshole from Howard Stern. He stutters. I’ve been bad but I’ve been good, scholars be damned.”

    “Yeah. But you’re fucked, bud.”

    Too many people laughed. Too many people had a problem they were squishing against the back of their memories. It “worked”, in so many ways. Our group sufficed, let’s guess.

    Dr. Emma stood up, the only chair in the room that didn’t wobble when she did. Everyone in the circle noticed. They deserved better. They were royalty, after all.

    “I’m Dr. Emma Danza. No relation, of course. That would be of the most irony. Ha-Ha. Anyway, I’m here to council, but, I feel as though that is not anywhere near what I have actually learned. I am here to listen, to laugh, to…cry, to grow with all of you…and…yes?”

    A woman dressed as a mime raised one hand and cupped the other over her mouth. Everyone else looked back and forth to see who would laugh first. Thankfully, mimes aren’t funny at all and no one was even close to even smirking.

    “We’re here, to no slight of anyone, to address the fact that you have all…changed…”

    Dr. Emma Danza (no relation) checked her stack of papers, to put a face to a profile. It was different, studying and “practicing”, for the people in front of her were also needles in their own piled haystacks. Where to start?

    “It just says, ‘the mime’,” Dr Emma Danza (no relation) said, looking up briefly,  “I’ll assume that’s you.”

    The mime nodded with sass.

    “I’m not here to tell you that this gimmick has been run into the ground. You’re just supposed to come to that conclusion on your own.”

    Everyone laughed. The mime put her head down.

[hyuccubus]

A podcast ruined my life

I'm exaggerating, pulling the familiar con of sensationalism to draw you in. But this is a heavy one. Look how personable I'm being now, though, so humble and effacing. I put the "personal" in "personal stories"!

But seriously, a podcast fucked me up mentally. It wasn't even something immediately triggering; a true crime oddity that hit a little too close to home, but nothing with the typical American bent; no blood, no guts, no repurposed farm tools sticking out of the trash bins, buzzing with more flies than usual for this time of year.

It was an episode of Stuff You Should Know about, and this is where I would recommend anyone with anxiety disorder either prepare yourselves or stop reading, I mean it, just let this one go.

Going once.

Going twice.

The Tylenol Murders. I won't bring up the specifics, it involves poison, a lack of leads, and needless death. The thing of interest, beyond the rubber-necking into human suffering the eternally connected consumer is all too happy to indulge in, was that it changed so much of how medications make it to the shelves.

There's a few layers of irony here. The hosts certainly didn't mean to scare anyone; this happened once and has never happened again, some have tried to cover up their murdered spouses by blaming a copycat, some even causing irreparable harm to folks caught in the crossfire, but nothing like the initial case. For one thing, the copycats were caught.

Another irony; I was listening to the podcast at work to keep myself from driving myself up the wall from anxiety, thinking too much about things I shouldn't be thinking about. I even thought maybe I should skip that episode, for my own sake. But no, I decided, I am not a slave to my anxiety. I will not let it dictate what I do and not do. And it proceeded to drive me up a wall.

What's funny is, it didn't immediately destroy me. The idea was like a spore, taking root in my brain, biding its time. I got to thinking about how many hands touch the things that go into my body. The lack of control. The possibility. The agony of a body's death when it cannot process oxygen. The fear, the animal desire to breathe, and nothing can help you, no one can save you, and your family will see the sheet pulled back, and cover their mouths, tears budding in the ducts of their eyes, and say yes, that's you, or it was you, and all it takes is a pinch of powder.

It doesn't matter that it doesn't happen, that it's nigh impossible, you'd win the lottery ten times over before then... it could. It just could.

And it controlled me. I had trouble eating anything, I had to convince myself I would be okay, wait until I was around people I trusted and blindfold myself with the comfort that they wouldn't let anything happen to me. And I fucking hate it. I still won't take tylenol. I still have trouble taking anything unless I myself buy the bottle, open it, break the seal, and inspect the pills. I can't go back. I can't take the information out of my head.

I'm getting there. I'm realizing I'd be able to taste the poison at that dose, that manufacturers very very much do not want such a thing in their products, that microbes don't escape their purview, how could cyanide? But I'll more likely than not always have the twinge of fear. Every time I feel a headache, I don't think about allergies or hormonal periods, I think about what I ate, or drank. Could it have been spiked?

"No, of course not", says my rational brain.

"You can't prove that," says the fear.

But I'm still here. And I need to eat, and I really want medicine, and I'll have to find a way to deal with it. It's nobody's fault but mine. I'm getting to a point where I'm more afraid of what the stress will do to me than the idea of death by cyanide. I can't live my life by "what if"s, after all.

That's all the moral I have for you. If you think you should stay away from something, listen to it. You're not stronger for exposing yourself to things you don't want. Understanding your limits is a kind of strength all its own.

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Twenty One: Quidam Pt. 2

“Just…what the hell are you!?” Hohenheim regained his composure for a moment as Dolly stood there for a moment, thinking very thoughtfully about that very question.

“You know, the funny thing is, I’ve been asking the same thing myself for the longest time. However, we will be leaving with William right now. Humphrey, ready to depart this household of filth?” Dolly said, smiling a bit at the irony of such a question being brought up to her.

“You just vaporized my hideously awful wife!” Hohenheim protested before a very sharp blade came up to his neck.

“Yes and she made for a mighty fine mist for sure. You sir, however, I’ll gut like a fish if you continue to stand in our way.” Humphrey gave Hohenheim the look of being very prepared to field dress the alchemist on the spot if he didn’t let the group leave in peace. 

 “Okay WIlliam, let’s get you back to our household and doctor you up the best we can, alright?” Dolly comforted Envy as Humphrey made his way towards Dolly, his knife posed for throwing should Hohenheim make a dumb decision. 

 Once Humphrey was close enough to the meatball and Dolly, they disappeared from Hohenheim’s sight like specters of retributions for misdeeds. Envy felt  queasy as they reappeared in the room they had formerly stayed in before becoming a homunculus. Humphrey wasted no time in running to fetch the medical equipment the moment they reached home as Dolly went into comforting mode, especially seeing as one of her humans was responsible for this event. Envy, for once, was very welcoming of this change of pace of people actually caring about their own well being and being treated like a person instead of some sort of unholy meat construct. A look over took Dolly, as though on autopilot, likely from Survive taking Dolly over to teach her a little thing about her body as Dolly’s nail cut open a wound on her own hand. The blood poured into the cupped hand as Dolly brought it up to Envy’s mouth to feed them the rather awful medical solution. Because Envy was nothing more than a fleshy meatball, they couldn’t escape being fed Dolly’s blood and she was very much on point, that shit was like buttercream in terms of sweetness.

“Holy shit! Dolly what are you doing!?” Humphrey gasped in horror as the wound on Dolly’s hand started to mend itself on its own.

“Fixing William…” Dolly softly said as she regained control of her bodily functions.

“....Feeding William your blood is not something I think  would…fuck that’s actually working…” Humphrey stared in shock that the meatball was slowly starting to regain a humanoid form after consuming blood.

“...We’re going to make you feel all better soon and we’re going to make sure you never have to see that terrible man ever again.” Dolly gave the mutating meatball a comforting hug as Envy was ready to vow to never have Dolly blood ever again.

 “Fairytale….you need to cut out the sugar….it’s too sweet…” Envy pleaded, the sugar levels were too much for the other sugar fiend.

“Sir, Dolly here is pretty much a sugar based lifeform of sorts. We are very certain her existence is maintained by flesh and sugar, therefore you’re gonna have to deal with the syrupy sweet blood.” Humphrey couldn’t look away from the clear science project that was Envy’s transition into a barely passing human-like form instead of that awful meatball moments ago.

 “No…it's not syrup…it's beyond that point…it’s flavored like buttercream...how does that even happen?” Envy finally got functional hands to gesture with to convey that point.

“Well Dolly, you know the saying, no good deed goes unpunished.” Humphrey patted Dolly on the back, still horrified a bit that Dolly’s blood had that ability.

“Upside William, you’re recovering…I think..” Dolly watched on as Envy finished getting as close to human as they could get after the gruesome remedy.

 It didn’t take long for Envy to develop legs as Dolly and Humphrey carefully guided them to the bed to rest after such a terrible experience. It would take a few hours until Envy would fully resemble how they used to look as William did before Daddy’s little tango with the reanimation of dead tissue happened. Envy, for once, was able to relax after being allowed time to be to themself for a bit as Dolly carefully brought in a meal. The smell of cinnamon was strong in the soup with chicken floating on the surface of the creamy stock as it got set up next to Envy’s bedside. Dolly gently glanced at Envy as she got a goblet of warmed mead on the bedside table and smiled. Envy relaxed a bit that there were no hard feelings over the comment about the concerningly sweet blood from before. With a chair pulled up, Dolly prepared to spoon up some of the soup to feed Envy before Envy took the soup and spoon to feed themself. Relaxed that Envy had some dexterity regained in their newly reformed hand, Dolly decided to just hang out with Envy to support them.

 “I’m glad you’re able to use your hands, I was worried about that seeing as you had to redevelop them.” Dolly said finally once Envy had finished their bowl of soup.

 “I’m glad too..Dolly, thank you for obliterating that hideous mother of mine and getting me out of that hellhole…I don’t know what would’ve happened if I were to stay there..” Envy said as they moved onto the mead next to enjoy.

 “I don’t know either, but I couldn’t leave you there in that state. We’ll figure out some things for you once you’re fully recovered, just know you’re family now and we’re going to protect you should that father of yours show up again.” Dolly said, still rather pissed at Envy’s father and how he had handled things prior.

 “That means a lot, I don’t ever want that man in my presence ever again. Thank you for not even asking about what happened before.” Envy leaned back a bit in the bed after putting the mead down on the bedside table.

 “I figured it’d be too soon to ask, I'd rather have you relaxing and decompressing after that ordeal.” Dolly felt a bit of relief that Envy wasn’t upset by the fact she basically turned their mother into a fine meat mist moments ago. 

 With a smile, relaxed that Dante and Hohenheim were completely removed from their life, Envy went back to sleep to recover from the past trauma that didn’t happen all too long ago. The relief was great, knowing that Dante, if she ever pissed Dolly far enough, could just punch the hermit crab hag off the mortal coil with little effort. Sure, Gluttony would be thoroughly upset that there would be no meat leftover from the muscle dense impact, but at the same time it would’ve been for the best that Gluttony didn’t eat Dante. Only the gods know what would’ve happened if that goober ate the mortal remains of a truly monstrous creature like Dante.  The familiar sense of falling had returned as Envy’s consciousness was being pulled away from the simulation of the requested what if and back to the waking world, waiting for them to return. There was no resistance, no anger, and importantly, no hatred from being brought back to everyone awaiting for Envy’s return. This was the rebirth that Envy had hoped for and they were ready to do the next big step, telling Hohenheim to go fuck himself and to get lost.

=======================================================================

[matthew-pasquarello]

Matthew Pasquarello

The Pawn Shops Are Closing

“A True Way To Do Things”

    You step into some sort of “spotlight” and you attempt to do something that you try to justify its “originality” even though it’s been done before, not only that, it’s been done before and done before and done before but you attempt to do it in a different way, you’re going to be begged for the formula, they’re gonna ask you how you did it and you’re gonna smirk and shrug. And you’re going to be wrecked in the ridicule.

Unless of course you already made us millions of dollars. After all, we consider greatly the artistic ability of the already proven method.

Cheers, baby.

-Hollywood.

-

    “You don’t know what you’re talking-talking-about, I’ve had so many call-blacks. I mean backs. That asshole from Howard Stern. He stutters. I’ve been bad but I’ve been good, scholars be damned.”

    “Yeah. But you’re fucked, bud.”

    Too many people laughed. Too many people had a problem they were squishing against the back of their memories. It “worked”, in so many ways. Our group sufficed, let’s guess.

    Dr. Emma stood up, the only chair in the room that didn’t wobble when she did. Everyone in the circle noticed. They deserved better. They were royalty, after all.

    “I’m Dr. Emma Danza. No relation, of course. That would be of the most irony. Ha-Ha. Anyway, I’m here to council, but, I feel as though that is not anywhere near what I have actually learned. I am here to listen, to laugh, to…cry, to grow with all of you…and…yes?”

    A woman dressed as a mime raised one hand and cupped the other over her mouth. Everyone else looked back and forth to see who would laugh first. Thankfully, mimes aren’t funny at all and no one was even close to even smirking.

    “We’re here, to no slight of anyone, to address the fact that you have all…changed…”

    Dr. Emma Danza (no relation) checked her stack of papers, to put a face to a profile. It was different, studying and “practicing”, for the people in front of her were also needles in their own piled haystacks. Where to start?

    “It just says, ‘the mime’,” Dr Emma Danza (no relation) said, looking up briefly,  “I’ll assume that’s you.”

    The mime nodded with sass.

    “I’m not here to tell you that this gimmick has been run into the ground. You’re just supposed to come to that conclusion on your own.”

    Everyone laughed. The mime put her head down.

[bellsofblueficlets]

A Hand Held In Offer

It was funny, in a way. Life's domain held so much pain, despite her loving soul, and gentle nature. It was Life's domain that fought, and bled, and shattered bones, that used talon and teeth. That wasn't her nature, but it was her domain.

While his was stillness, a ceasing of pain, of hunger, of fear- as well as an ending of all the sorts of hopes, possibilities, and loves, that only life could bring.

When it came time to choose a new fate, a new existence, he didn't want the reminder of what he'd lost. Didn't want to see her face on someone barely even a shadow of her. So he'd chosen a world where he never would. Where no bitties wore her face, or bore her name. Why there were none, he didn't know, but it was one reason he chose this world, and it had worked. He hadn't seen her face, anywhere.

He regretted that, now.

What was life, after all, without it's goddess?

It was possible that too much time to think wasn't good for him, but since he didn't know where he was, and every last bone in his body ached too much to move, there wasn't much to be done for it.

There was no way to tell how long he'd lain there by the time the first sounds of movements finally reach his senses. Solace listens to the quiet footfalls, the stifled yawn, the splash of water. Some small shuffling of things. Then listens to him approach...

And then stop. "You- You're awake." Was that dread? Relief? Both, he decides. It's a strange combination. "I- I um, I dressed your wounds. I hope you don't mind?"

"...Still dead asleep. Come back later."

A brief silence, followed by a mumble of, "Oh. Sorry. I'll let you sleep then."

And despite the blatant obviousness of his lie, the footsteps start to lead away. A few seconds later he hears a chair pull out, with exaggerated slowness, like the other was trying not to wake him. A small shuffling of papers, and the scratch of a pen.

That. Wasn't the expected reaction. Solace had expected to be called on his bluff immediately, and now that he hadn't been, he wasn't entirely sure where to go with it, so he just laid there, obviously awake, listening.

Several minutes passed this way, reflecting at the bitty he couldn't currently see. He still remembered his face though, like it had been carved into his memory. The last face he'd seen, before everything went wrong.

"So. What's the verdict, doc? Am I pretty much Death warmed over?"

The scratching of the pen stops. Silence fir a moment before Cade clears his throat. "H- hardly. A few bruises. Nothing broken. Well, several bruises." He corrects himself. "But you're very lucky. And," The scratching resumes, "I'm not a doctor."

"...Do you always say tell patients who can feel their teeth humming that they're lucky?"

"If they're alive to feel their teeth humming, then yes." This time his writing doesn't pause, the soft scritching continuing on. "Though I don't believe I'm um, familiar with 'humming teeth' as a result of injury. Perhaps head injury? Could you describe the sensation in greater detail?"

Bemused, Solace admits, "Humor, doc."

"...Ah," It's hard to judge whether he really believed the reaper was serious or not. "Um, sorry. Also, not a doctor."

He was stuck on that, wasn't he? Okay. That still left a question. "And all the splintering when I hit?" He'd been... at least somewhat convinced he'd was going to wake up dead. Quite literally, in his case.

"Uh. Rolly... he mentioned pulling you out of some- some dead shrubbery," The science sans explained, tapping his pen on the desk, in what Solace could only assume was nervousness. "On a balcony. So, uh. Yeah. Very lucky."

...Death, saved from dying, by a dead thing. The fucking irony. He chuckles, he can't help it, of course he instantly regrets it, tensing with a hiss, to the sound of a skidding chair, and the sound of it falling to the floor. "Okay. Not the best medicine."

"Where does it hurt?" The words are practically beside his ear, and Solace opens his sockets, not having realized he'd closed them, only for his medic to absolutely freeze like a deer in headlights at the absence of eyelights in his empty sockets.

"...First reaper?" Solace guesses, amused by this again. It was a bit funny after all, his first reaper... and it was The Reaper. Or well, one of them...

"Y- Yes. Sorry... Sorry." The smaller bitty- stars, he's not half Solace's size, is he- stumbles back, overwhelmed, intimidated, and embarrassed, and not any good at hiding it.

"...Uh huh." Bemused, Solace tries to sit up, and winces, sighs, and considers, before holding out his hand. "Do you think you could-?" It was probably a long shot, but-

The science sans gives a strangled yelp, stumbling backwards and almost falling, breathing hard, and staring, eyelights blown wide like the reaper had drawn a weapon on him.

Which. He supposed he had.

A snort, rueful. Yeah, okay, long shot. Lush and Rasmarus must be exceptions then.

...Had he even tried with anyone else before now?

Silence stretches between them for a few seconds, before Solace sighs, giving up, and tries to at least find a more comfortable position while he lays there.

"You. You shouldn't be... moving yet. Anyway."

"...Mmhm." Solace points upwards, at a patch of the concrete ceiling, some distance above. "How'd you stop the leak?"

The science sans hesitates, an expression of confusion washing over his face. "Um. What?"

Solace gestures vaguely at a water stain, on said same ceiling. "The ceiling was leaking. You patched it. How?"

"...Crazy glue. And um, candle wax. Not in that order."

Solace turns his head, staring at the other bitty. The not quite five inches tall bitty. The 'since bitty, sensitive to strong smells' bitty. The 'if he'd managed to glue himself to the ceiling in the process, would have hung there until he dusted' bitty.

The currently somewhat embarrassed and offended looking bitty. "I had acetone."

"...That's not better."

The science sans frowns, crossing his arms. "And gloves!"

Solace just continues to look at him, and finally the science sans sighs. "Look, I set up a battery operated fan by the vents, I rigged a pulley system, I got the wax in place first, and used gloves and a q-tip to apply the crazy glue before retreating outside. I had a thimbleful of acetone and-"

He falters as Solace just continues to look at him, less in disbelief now, and more as if he'd just grown a second head. "How are you still alive?" The Reaper asks, somewhat flatly.

Only silence answers his question for a few seconds, but eventually it's broken by a somewhat shaky chuckle. "I. I have no idea, honestly." In that moment he looks, tired. Deeply tired. Beneath the anxiety, beneath the apparent skill, beneath the dangerous patron and the... creative problem solving...

This bitty couldn't have been more than four years old. Probably closer to three. But he had a lifetime's worth of deep exhaustion behind his eyelights. "...maybe the capital R reaper just missed me." He shrugs finally, grabbing his chair, and dragging in closer. "Or he's late. Or just left me behind."

Now it was Solace's turn to be vaguely offended, frowning. "That doesn't happen."

The science sans just shrugs, and give him a slightly crooked smile. "Then I'm afraid I don't have your answer." He says softly. "Because I should probably be dead at least a dozen times ago. Maybe the god of death just plays favorites."

...That was definitely an offended frown and furrow of brows. "That doesn't happen." He denies again. "Trust me."

A long look, followed by a soft sound, maybe a sigh. The science sans looks away, and for an instant, just an instant, Solace's catches a glimpse of something he hasn't seen since losing his status as the god of death...

A thread of life. Fragile things, waiting for the reaper's blade to sever soul from body in those last drawn breaths. Gossamer, less, delicate and shining.

This bitty's looked like it had been worn thin, in more than one place. Too thin. Solace had seen too many threads like that, where the slightest pressure should snap it away. No blade needed, only a Reaper to gather the soul... but this one hadn't.

...And then just like that, the glimpse is gone. And Solace is left to wonder at this bitty, who just hadn't fallen down, his thread weakened far past the point where so many others had.

He hadn't seen it many times over eons and countless worlds, it was rare, but far from impossible. But he didn't think he'd ever seen such a small soul keep standing, so long past the point where so many others would have fallen.

...Wait. Where else had he-

He knew him from somewhere else, didn't he? It hadn't been that long ago...

"Everyone plays favorites."

It takes a few second for the words to register, as far in left field as Solace's thoughts had wondered. "Not Death."

"No?" Those curiously intense blue eyes peer at him, from behind his oversized glasses. "So are you suggesting that all of the gods are flawless, or only the one you have a personal investment in?"

The question surprises Solace, setting him back a bit. He wasn't expecting the visibly anxious, not even half his height bitty to offer that. And he probably shouldn't find that so goddammit funny, but a ghost of a smile does pass over his face. This science sans was a irreverent little thing when he forgot to be afraid, wasn't he? And phrased like that, what kind of answer was he supposed to give? "Guess it's a good thing I'm not a god then, huh?"

"..." A nod, from the science sans. "Fair." He agrees, standing back up, "And probably just as well, considering which god you'd most likely be. I don't think I'm ready to meet Death yet, much less take his hand."

His gaze flicks briefly to Solace's hand, aware in no way of the irony of this.

Solace shrugs. "No one ever is, until they are. Even the ones that think they are."

It might be the matter of fact way he says this, but this time, for whatever reason, the science sans doesn't answer. And the reaper can't help but wonder if whatever reason he has for that silence, might be the same reason that he seems so familiar.

After several seconds of this awkward silence- "Cade, right?"

"...Oh." He looks a bit surprised, "Um. Yes. How did you know?"

Solace clears his throat, or what passes for it, and quotes, "''I'm Cade, and I'm trying to be your medic today. Please don't kill me.' I uh, just remembered that."

The other bitty flushes a slow blue over his entire face, looking like he wants to sink into the floor. "Ah. Um. Yeah, I said that, didn't I?" He fidgets a bit with his sleeve, before smoothing his lab coat, taking a deep breath, and trying to plaster a smile on his face, extremely unsuccessfully.

"Well, um, as I was, uh, saying. You have some bruising, as well as several minor lacerations, but there's no excessive magic loss- and no broken bones, fortunately. Um, considering I've, I've never set a wing before, that's probably just as- I mean, not that having set one before would make it okay if I broke it, I-" He was starting to ramble, getting visibly nervous again.

It seemed like a good time to remind him of where the conversation had started "Acetone, a pulley, super glue, and a fan?" Still with that same soft spoken incredulity as before, like he just needed to check one more time to make sure he really had heard right.

"I- I... It worked?" While he was effectively distracted from his previous anxiety, the return to this seemed to make him uncomfortable too. "I mean, I took every possible precaution I could think of, and I- I didn't want another short term fix, and I didn't want to have to ask for-"

"But you draw the line at taking my hand?"

Cade stops mid explanation, a perplexed look forming on his features. "That's. That's nit the same. It-" And again, he stops, turning over this argument in his mind. After a moment he starts paying a lot of attention to his coat again, and otherwise finding anyplace else to look, other than the reaper currently on the makeshift bed in his living room, making what Solace could see he was starting to recognize as a good point.

"Ex- Excuse, me for a, um..." Cade walks away. Just like that.

Somewhat disappointed, Solace sighs. That had been jnteresting at least. Now ut seemed that he was just going to lay here until-

He hears the sounds of things being moving around, still close by. Huh, he could gave sworn the science sans had left the room. What had him back in here already? There's occasional low mutterings of, "No, no, dammit, where- That's not going to- Maybe this?"

This continues for what has to be several minutes, no explanation given, Cade going to less effort to stay quiet with as time stretches on, until Solace hears a muttered, "Fuck it," Following by the sound of several things tumbling to the ground, sounding something akin to a box being dumped out over the floor. Clearly he was done doing this the patient way.

Solace listens to all this happening, curious, but doesn't ask what he's doing, as much as anything because he's trying to figure it out himself. After all, he didn't have much else to keep his mind occupied at the-

The science sans steps back into his range of vision, both arms now thoroughly wrapped in pieces of torn cloth, with bits of sticky bandage to hold them in place, and covering every finger as well. He was also wearing a apron, for what reason it was hard to say, and now stood there looking fidgety, and more than a little embarrassed.

...That was fair, considering this was probably one of the most ridiculous looking things Solace ever seen. Well, of the non fatal variety. In all fairness, he supposed he hadn't had tge chance to see as many of the other kind.

Cade takes a couple shaky breaths, visibly steeling himself, before finally offering Solace his hand.

It's hard for Solace to keep the look of amusement from his face, and he doesn't quite manage to banish the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, which Cade definitely sees, gaining an even deeper blue blush-

Integrity, then. Noted. In the integrity family, at least. He'd thought maybe patience, at first glance, but-

He can see Cade starting to have second thoughts about this, his hand starting to lower, but before it can, Solace reaches out, slipping his much larger hand into his, and gripping lightly.

For a moment Cade just stares at their hands together. It was very, very obvious how much of a size difference there was between them. "Um" Solace can almost see him taking in the fact that he's not dead. Wait, quick pat of his lab coat to make sure- Okay, no. Definitely not dead.

Wheels still turning. Thoughtfulness, curiosity... The other bitty was quickly proving to be something of an open book, with nothing separating what was currently going through his head, from what was currently showing on his face. He could almost hear Cade muttering questions to himself about whether the layers were actually any kind of deterrent from a reaper's touch, or-

"...Am I distracting you?" Cade blinks, coming back to himself. Looking at Solace, then down at their joined hands. There was pretty much no question that he'd managed to briefly forget the point of this.

"Oh. No." Cade lies, poorly. "Let me just, um-" His grip on Solace's hand tightens, the science sans demonstrating surprising handstrength, actually, and braces himself, letting Solace use his smaller form to pull himself up into a sitting position.

It was excruciating, and he had to stop and try again, more than once, but-

After no small amount of effort, he'd done it. The Reaper had accomplished sitting up.

...Now he wanted to stand.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing?" Sharp panic edged Cade's voice, and Solace pauses, nods, and let's go of his hand, pushing himself up from the makeshift bed itself instead. "No, that's not what I-!"

He does it of course, gaining his feet- and promptly wobbling. Cade curses, starting to rush to his side-

Solace finds himself looking down at the little science sans- Yes, in fact less than half his height, though this wasn't currently stopping him from trying to prop up the much larger reaper, and keep him from falling, despite the obvious fear that had gripped him only moment before to simply get close enough to touch at all.

...Huh.

He doesn't overbalance completely, managing to steady himself with the little science sans' help. The other doesn't seem to notice as Solace's hand brushes against his wrist, where the wrapping are coming undone, leading him to wall instead. "Here. Brace yourself. I'll be right back." And then he's gone.

Well, not completely. Solace is able to turn his head enough to see the smaller bitty as he gathers up armful of things, carrying them to a spot close by, dropping them, and then darting off for more. He carried foam padding, dragged a hard cover book with most of it's pages missing, what looked to be part of a stuffed animal, the limb of a teddy bear maybe, a bit of fleece... duct tape, sure. Why not?

It was oddly fascinating, watching him as he cobbled together something with quick, decisive energy, grabbing the edge of the duct tape and tearing into strips, huffing when it caught on his coat, but barely slowing down-

It was a glimpse of the bitty underneath the anxiety and uncertainty, a bitty of sharp mind and quick choice, able to piece together ideas- and apparently, furniture- on the fly, with a glimpse of a grin, and a satisfied click of his tongue, and curious, warm intensity to his eyelight-

He turned around, a grin wide on his face, ready to present his makeshift creation-! Only to falter at the sight of Solace, as if to remember, oh, right, he was making this for someone else to use, and be subject to their approval and disapproval. And that suddenly the light faltered in his gaze, and the grin faded, and he just seemed... less, somehow. Like everything he'd just seen, that energy and creativity, was just... gone.

Cade drops his gaze, closing a hand around his upper arm and rubbing nervously. That spirit, that light, was just-

A deep, shaky breath, and an effort at a smile, as Cade rejoins him, offering his hand again. Solace accepts it, stepping away from the wall. The little science sans has to all but catch him as he body tries to give way...

...And he does it. Together, moving him towards the chair, and it was obviously this, that Cade had crafted him.

He didn't know what to think as he half stumbled into it, the edges of his vision nearly going back at the intensity of the pain this caused him, but then he was sinking into it, and it held his weight, and-

And just for an instant, that small look of triumph was back in Cade's eyelights, and he smiled.

Then he saw Solace watching him, and just like that, it was gone.

No. Not gone. It was still there, hidden, but there.

...He wants to see it again.

Cade gives that half hearted, forced smile again, starting to pull away, only to be stopped by Solace's hand closing around his, before he can finish drawing it from his arm.

He freezes, hard, panic flaring in his eyelights in that instant before his sockets squeeze shut, his face turning away, like someone expecting for a blow. A coldness drops, somewhere inside the reaper. Not that he hadn't already recognized the signs of abuse, of fear... but to see it directed towards him that way? Slowly, the coldness gives way to something else. Something he hasn't felt in what feels like a long time.

Deep, genuine anger. Whoever had hurt this bitty, whoever had given him reason to flinch, and wince, and wait for Solace's hand to hurt him...

Solace wanted to find them, and cause them pain.

Cade is terrified. Shaking. Not even trying to defend himself.

Solace watches him, and slowly he banishes the anger that he knows Cade would have seen in his scowl had he been looking. Swallows down the heat that tries to force its way back up, and manages to school his expression...

All in those small moments before Cade finally manages to whimper out a please, fully expecting the larger bitty that he'd gone to such lengths to bandage and tend to turn around and hurt him.

"...You dropped something." Solace isn't sure where the words come from, or how he keeps the anger from them, but once this is offered, he waits.

It's a few seconds before his words sink in, he'd fully expected it to be, but then, confused and still scared, the science sans risks looking back at him. "...What?"

Solace nods at their hands, joined, without a word. Instinctively Cade follows his gaze, at first not seeming to get what he was looking at. His hand, in Solace's. That was it.

Then a blink, and a slow, dawning understanding. He stares at his hand, then looks to see where the makeshift glove/bandage he'd been using has fallen, spotting it still against the wall, where Solace had been leaning, before. Then, back at his hand, gripped gently in the reaper's much larger one, bone to bone.

"...I don't mean to come across as a little grave, but since you seem like the kinda guy whose trust is a little hard to urn, why don't we start with the bare bones?"

Cade blinks at the small cascade of puns, managing to spot them, possibly due to the small emphasis that Solace put on them. "Um. I- I guess? So, where do we-?"

"Name's Solace. Nice to properly meet you, doc."

"...I- I'm not-" He starts to protest, only to fall short, and sigh, seeming resigned to the title. "...I'm Cade. It's... nice to meet you, Solace. Um. May I... have my hand, back? Please."

A soft snort from the reaper, but he releases his hand. He was smiling, and after a long, uncertain moment, Cade smiles back. It's small, and hesitant, but this time, it's real. He does rub his hand a bit, after reclaiming it, but Solace supposes that's to be expected. Still, adjusting his glasses, as he looks around he seems to be... calmer, if not quite okay.

He soon pauses though, taking a few steps to one side, and bending down to retrieve a sleek, shiny black feather. "...I think you dropped something too," He admits, running his hand over the soft thing, and testing the bend and spring as he examines the little quill. It was just about the right size to fit in his hand perfectly, Solace thought.

"Don't worry, I have more," Solace assured, letting himself get more comfortable in 'his' chair. Seeing the corner of Cade's mouth twitch in amusement, as he glance back at the reaper's vast wings, in a moment of impulse, he adds, "You can keep-"

Just as Cade starts to ask, "Can I keep-"

Both fall silent for an instant, and then Solace chuckles, offering a wave of his hand, or well, at the moment more like a wave of the two fingers left that don't currently hurt like hell. "Keep it," He assures, adding again, "I have plenty."

A slow, small brightening of the little science sans' expression. "I- I suppose, I do need a new pen..." He runs his fingers over the silky softness of a few times, utterly delighted. "Its- it's so soft," He marvels, amazed, "It's practically down! How are you even able to fly with feathers like these?"

"...Magic." Solace offers, somewhat dryly.

A sound from Cade, soft, annoyance, definitely. Not amusement. Nope.

And Solace sees it again, in the hidden amusement of his huff, and the soft delight shining in his eyelights over a 'simple' thing like a feather, and every time he saw the little science sans' ghost of a smile. That light, that strength, that utter vitality and joy for life... It was all still there. Buried beneath the hurts, and the fear... a small light, still flickering on.

Solace realizes in those moments that he wants more of that light. He wants to coax it out of hiding, to hold it in both hands, and watch it shine, without fear of letting him see.

...Life would like him, the Reaper thinks, smiling as he watches the medic walk to his desk, not realizing that is the first time in a long time that the thought of her hadn't brought him pain.

And Cade, even more oblivious, still admiring the feather, and eager to try out his nice new pen...

----

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

I HAVE HAD EEVEE BELL FOR *checks dates* oh shit six days now. damn i took my time with this commentary. BUT STILL IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HER oh wait. something does happen to her. shit. *cries*

"Thank the Goddess" 👀👀 religion???? in my sci-fi universe??? sounds like something to obsess over for the next three to five business days

"Artificial intelligence that the Solar Planets spent a fortune to perfect. Of course just like with everything else though, Brahma gets left behind in the dust" ough, the solar planets having more resources than the outer rim. especially because of the war. blegh

"Goddess bless our savior New Kinshasa. (EEVEE LAUGHS A BIT HARSHER)" ooh, she's bitter (as is her right) i'm loving it

i'm having so much fun seeing the aftermath of nureyev's little stunt with the reactor core. it makes sense that both brahma and new kinshasa were sent into disarray, but with nureyev's panicking he probably didn't have time to stop and think about how everyone else was reacting to what he did.

soooo... at the time this recording was made, nureyev was still on brahma??? i wonder if any of these characters ever met him...

"And if we fall, New Kinshasa falls with us." AHOGSFLKNIGLWKDSH`OAFKN;

"He doesn’t believe the Revolutionary killed a Constable" that's mag isn't it. why are they calling him a constable??? to villainise nureyev??? because they don't understand what really happened, and they would rather admit to losing a constable than admit to being confused??

"Mark my word, I think my little comms will outlive both of us. If Baird’s lucky it will outlive them." dramatic irony my beloved

"I couldn’t kiss Baird’s head because Charlie had a death grip on his shoulders" OH BLESS THEIR LITTLE COTTON SOCKS (think i just used this exact phrase on zeph's fic but it applies here too)

"We are a proper family. Mom who works too hard, dad who left to get milk and never came back– see? Proper family." lmaooo he's funny

"A man who wasn’t the least bit popular in any particular revolutionary circle. Apparently, he wanted to drop New Kinshasa out of the sky and saw it perfectly fit to kill all of Brahma in the process" glad to know none of them approve of mag. if he was going to destroy brahma with his plan anyway, he might as well have just let the GAS do it's thing. what an absolute bastard.

"they kept pinching each other and trying to not shriek? I think that was the objective?" wtf lol

"BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Memma?" BABY BAIRD!!!! BABY BAIRD!!! AND HE'S A FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY!!! OH MY GOD AHORIEFLGDJ

baird learned to sing because eevee always sang to him... 🥺🥺🥺

"Mom, why are you showing me how to use your comms? Is something going to happen to us? Is something bad going to happen to you?" OH BLESS HIM GOD SOMEONE WRAP HIM UP IN A BLANKET AND PUT HIM SOMEWHERE SAFE

"there once was a boy born on Brahma with nothing. Not even a name" oh fuck yeah storytime.

"He looked down at Brahma from up high, and saw them: his people" i've got chills, jay. chills.

"stared back at the city as it trembled. The boy had the power at his fingertips to stop a tragedy." more chills

"hope bloomed on Brahma. The Boy, The Legend, The Angel of Brahma." i absolutely love this version. it's not how nureyev remembers it, but this is the story that the brahman people tell their children. it's so good. it's so fucking good.

"That’s not a story Memma, that’s history" smartass

"My angel, I must ask you keep singing for me.  How sweet your tune, like a songbird at noon." O' MY LOVER ONCE SANG TO MEEEEEEE, HOW SWEET, THE BITTER TUNE YOU MADE THEM PLEA. MY ANGEL, MY ANGEEEEEEL, PLEASE LET ME GO LET ME FREEEEEE

"Promise me you’ll never stop singing baby" MY ANGEL, MY ANGEL, PLEASE NEVER STOP SINGING FOR MEEEEEEE

"And nothing will" i was so angry at her for like 0.002 seconds and then. i was just sad. she probably didn't want it to be a lie.

"Which button was it to end the recording? Was it this o– SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS" lmaoooo yes it was that one

"must contact Frannie’s friend about both of those names" FUCK YEAH LET'S GET RITA IN THIS FIC I ALWAYS WANT MORE RITA

"Bairdy and Memma… right up there with Charls and Dearest" i'm sobbing why is everyone baird loves taken away from him. why, jay. why.

"Eve loved Baird so much. She reminds me of my mother a bit" oh, calypso.

"there are some things that will be lost to me forever" uhhhh does this mean i don't get to know either??? jay??? c'monnnnn, you'll tell me, right?? please?? 🥺🥺

this was like pulling teeth for you???? i honestly could not tell. i loved it, it provides so much good context and flows so nicely. i loved seeing eevee's perspective on things. rewrite later if you want but i think it's absolutely amazing either way!!!

onto the next part!!! in which i might end up screaming song lyrics at you again. apparently that's what i'm doing to you and zeph this fine sunday morning

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. ix

Travelers. Friends. Mutuals. @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @the-private-eye @demonic-panini @gwenlena

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. MOTHERLY VOICE: I finally got a moment to myself thanks to Eber and Camilla… Thank the Goddess… I don’t know what I would be doing without them. (THE PERSON SIGHS) Where do I begin? I guess… my name would be a good start.  (CLEARING THEIR THROAT) My name is Eevee Bell, and I am one of three to four dozen Dome Wardens on Brahma. Our duty is to perform routine maintenance on the planet’s Dome, track incoming and outgoing shuttles and ships, and monitor Brahma’s severe weather outside the Dome. I love my job. I think I do my job very well. From what I’ve heard about other planets, they have robotics and computers to do this job now. Artificial intelligence that the Solar Planets spent a fortune to perfect. Of course just like with everything else though, Brahma gets left behind in the dust. (EEVEE CHUCKLES UNDER HER BREATH) EEVEE: Goddess bless our savior New Kinshasa. (EEVEE LAUGHS A BIT HARSHER) EEVEE: What happened to us though has been brewing under their noses for some time now. I guess it was only a matter of time before… something was done.  To be honest I’m still not entirely sure what did happen. I know that our alarms went off when the Reactor Core was removed, and I know they stopped going off when the Core was put back. I know that the Chief Constable called all of our stations, and ordered us to go home. I know that we have not gone back to our stations for nearly ten days. I know that if we don’t accept any imports within the next seven days Brahma will begin to suffer. And if we fall, New Kinshasa falls with us.  Cyrus called me while I was rushing to get home to Baird. He asked me how much I knew and after I told him, I asked how much he knew. He said it would be better if he came to speak to me in person. He lives across town with Iris. I told him it wouldn’t be wise to meet up so late, especially with a curfew in place. He disagreed, but I talked enough sense into him that he waited until morning to catch a tram over here to the apartments.  Baird was not enthused to see him. He was rather… indifferent, actually. I know it hurt Cyrus’ feelings, I do plan on talking about it with Baird when I can, but it’s so hard to talk about anything seriously right now. I’d rather keep things as light-hearted as possible.  I sent Baird over to Camilla and Eber’s apartment while I had tea with Cyrus. He looked so worried. He asked me if I saw the Chief Constable’s broadcast about the Revolutionary, Peter Nureyev. I have. I watched it with Baird the night before after I got home from my post. Cyrus said that he doesn’t know of any Peter Nureyevs in any of his revolution circles.  He surprised me by asking me for my thoughts about the Constable they allegedly found murdered by the Revolutionary. I didn’t at the time, and I still don’t now. Cyrus said that he has reason to believe that part was a lie. He doesn’t believe the Revolutionary killed a Constable. He thinks it might be an elaborate lie or cover-up for some more vain truth. (EEVEE INHALES SHARPLY) The revolutionaries are holding a meeting tonight. Cyrus invited me to come. He wants me there. I don’t want to get in trouble, but… I need to keep Cyrus and Baird safe. And by extension, it’s my job to keep Brahma safe.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS: EEVEE:  What the fuck! NEW VOICE:  What are you doing? EEVEE:  What am I doing I’m recording you idiot! Cyrus, don’t you see? If what was discussed tonight has any truth to it, New Kinshasa isn’t going to let any of this get out. More than– I bet you my next paycheck that Dark Matters is going to play a role in covering it all up! (CYRUS TRIES TO SHUSH EEVEE) CYRUS:  Alright, alright– you have a point. Keep your voice down alright the streets have ears… You really hope your little comms though is going to play a role in– This? EEVEE: Mark my word, I think my little comms will outlive both of us. If Baird’s lucky it will outlive them.  (CYRUS GROANS. EEVEE GIGGLES) Okay, okay… I attended the meeting– CYRUS: The book club. We went to a late-night book club meeting. What? Don’t give me that look. Plausible deniability, Eve. EEVEE:  Right. The Book Club. We attended Book Club and talked about the climax of a war story. In the story, the main character kills a man with radical ideas to overthrow their government. The man he killed was not popular amongst the rebels. In theory, they should have agreed with him. CYRUS: In practice, however, the rebels do not condone murdering hundreds of thousands of people. Thus the whole unpopular amongst the rebels.  EEVEE:  Of course, word got out about the man’s death, and to cover it up, the government claimed him as an Enforcer. And they were getting away with it because the last clothes the man was found in was a stolen Enforcer uniform.  I don’t know if I believe the rebel or the government’s of the story– CYRUS: Eve– EEVEE: But! But. But I do believe that it was the right call for the rebels to sit back and wait for information to trickle out to them slowly… I think I’ll need to attend the next meeting to really make sure I understand what I’m getting myself into. Oh– I’m so tired. Can we discuss all this in the morning? With hopefully less ears listening in? (CYRUS HUMS AFFIRMATIVELY) CYRUS: I’ll even let you sleep in if you let me crash on your couch.  EEVEE: Of course, I wouldn’t make you walk across town while already breaking our curfew.  CYRUS: Thanks, Eve.  (LONG PAUSE) Baird’s not going to be mad to see me, is he? EEVEE: This late at night? I doubt it. If anything he’s staying over at that Spade’s apartment probably fast asleep with Charlie. Oh, they’re so sweet together. I went to say good night to them one evening and I couldn’t kiss Baird’s head because Charlie had a death grip on his shoulders. He's always polite and entertains all of Baird’s whims… I wish you were around more to see it happen. CYRUS:  You and I both know why that can’t happen.  (BOTH OF THEM SIGH) EEVEE: You know he’s only so pouty around you because you and I split up, right? He just wants us all together again. Like a proper family. CYRUS: We are a proper family. Mom who works too hard, dad who left to get milk and never came back– see? Proper family. (EEVEE LAUGHS CAUSING CYRUS TO LAUGH) UNFAMILIAR VOICE: Hey, state your business and show your credentials. CYRUS: Shit, Constables. Run Eve! SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. RECORDING BEGINS.  (EEVEE WHISPERS) EEVEE: Cyrus and I got away from the Constables last week perfectly fine. This week on Brahma: we went to another revolution meeting. A few old timers took roll call and one of them said he had reason to believe that the person the Angel of Brahma killed was one of theirs. A man who wasn’t the least bit popular in any particular revolutionary circle. Apparently, he wanted to drop New Kinshasa out of the sky and saw it perfectly fit to kill all of Brahma in the process.  (EEVEE SCOFFS) The nerve of some people. No one at the meeting could remember his name though, and no one still knows who Peter Nureyev is outside of the photos projected on every billboard on the planet now. He looks so young. Those dark and haunting eyes and sharp teeth. I find it hard to believe that he’s just a teenager. But– he is.  I’m trying to keep my voice down right now because Baird is asleep. The meeting was held before curfew this time so Cyrus went home to Iris and I walked alone back to the apartment. Eber was waiting for me just outside and before I could say hello he was dragging me down the halls to Hank’s apartment. His dog Missy was sprawled out on the sofa but Hank, Camilla, and Josie were all gathered around the dinner table. Mrs. Darius was upstairs with Talia, Charlie, and Baird. I sat down and told them everything I could.  The revolutionaries wouldn’t let me record anything with my comms during the meeting, but there wasn’t much that I think needed to be recorded. Just talk about who was storing what, who was leaving their doors open to help others. There was a lot of talk about going on strike. Either food or labor. They want to send a message to New Kinshasa. I don’t think I can afford to do much of anything. Me and the other Dome Wardens just went back to work two days ago, we are working through a backlog of off-planet imports and exports still. If I strike alone I’ll just be fired. If all the Wardens strike, then the Constables will take over and that will lead to certain catastrophe. And if I stop eating then Baird will stop eating and he’s already so… short.  Oh– I wish I got a chance to talk to Cyrus before we went our separate ways. He’d help me think of some way I can help. Better yet, he’d probably be able to give the others here at the apartments the answers they wanted from me. Hank didn’t say anything other than telling us to get out. Eber, Camilla, Josie, and I were silent on the walk upstairs. The kids were delighted to see us. Eber walked Talia back down to Hank, Josie was trying to fill in Mrs. Darius, and Camilla and I watched the boys play some sort of game where they kept pinching each other and trying to not shriek? I think that was the objective? Children’s games used to be much less violent when I was that age. I remember when– BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Memma? EEVEE: Bairdy! What are you doing awake? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I couldn’t sleep. You were being too loud.  (EEVEE TSKS) EEVEE: Then let’s put you back to bed alright baby? C’mon. I’ll even sing for you if you’d like.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: I have either made the best decision of the revolution that will turn the tides in favor of Brahma, or the worst mistake of my life.  I told the old-timers at this past meeting that I work as a Dome Warden, and that a few of my colleagues seemed interested in joining the rebellion but were uncertain on how to go about it. The old-timers were delighted for a number of reasons and had drawn the same conclusion that I had a few weeks ago when a labor strike was first brought up. They think it would be very good if I was able to get some of the other Wardens on board with the revolution.  Cyrus was very quiet during the meeting. I asked him before we left if he had any opinions he was holding back, and all he said was to trust my gut. So… I trusted my gut. I told the other Wardens at my post about the meetings. I told them about going on strike. A few seemed skeptical. Others wanted to know when the next meeting was. I’m going to contact Cyrus and get him to help me get the others to the next meeting.  I hope… this wasn’t a mistake. I guess time will only tell. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: –you turned it on. Good job, baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Mom, why are you showing me how to use your comms? Is something going to happen to us? Is something bad going to happen to you?  EEVEE: What? Oh no, baby. Nothing is going to happen to me. I just think you would find more use out of my comms than I would. Look, since you got it to record you can start recording all those little songs you like to sing. Or maybe you can get Charlie to record a story for you.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): But Mom, I like your singing and your stories more. Will you sing for me? And tell me a story tonight? EEVEE: Absolutely not. You get one or the other. Take your pick. And whatever you don’t choose, you have to give to me.  (BAIRD POUTS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… I want a story from you, and then I’ll give you a song. EEVEE:  Good choice, Bairdy. What kind of story would you like? (BAIRD HUMS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I want a story about Brahma.  EEVEE: A story about Brahma? Well… there once was a boy born on Brahma with nothing. Not even a name. He grew up just like everyone else, hungry for more. More food, more freedom, more time. The boy followed a man who dreamed of dropping the New Kinshasa on top of the planet.  The boy was very tired. Tired of being poor, tired of being hungry, tired of being alone. But he knew, that if he let that man drop New Kinshasa out of the sky, he would never be able to forgive himself. Brahma is his home. He looked down at Brahma from up high, and saw them: his people.  Starving young faces just like his looked up to the sky and stared back at the city as it trembled. The boy had the power at his fingertips to stop a tragedy.  This is it. The people thought. This is how we go out. Not with the big bang, but crushed under the heel of our jailor.  The boy heard their thoughts. He felt a rush of adrenaline and stopped the man from getting away. The city of New Kinshasa never fell out of the sky that day. The people were ordered to retreat to their homes. But that evening, everyone heard about the great threat against the Guardian Angel System. And everyone learned the name Peter Nureyev. And for the first time in the last half-century, hope bloomed on Brahma. The Boy, The Legend, The Angel of Brahma.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): That’s not a story Memma, that’s history.  EEVEE: And what is history but a story we have to learn from? Now, I believe you owe me a song. (BAIRD GROANS AND HUFFS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… (BAIRD TAKES A DEEP BREATH AND HUMS. THE SOUND GETS CLEARER LIKE HE’S BROUGHT THE COMMS CLOSER) My angel, I must ask you keep singing for me.  How sweet your tune, like a songbird at noon.  What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. O’ My heart overflows, I could never let go.  Like chimes in the wind, it must be destined.  I’ll find my way home, with your voice I’ll never be alone. Happy? (EEVEE SNIFFLES) EEVEE: Very. Thank you, Baird. That was beautiful.  (FABRIC RUSTLES, BOTH BAIRD AND EEVEE HUM) Promise me you’ll never stop singing baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Of course, Memma. I don’t think I could even if I tried.  EEVEE: Good. Now– (EEVEE PRESSES A KISS TO BAIRD’S HEAD) Get some sleep. Okay? We have a long day tomorrow. And Bairdy? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Yes, Mom? EEVEE: You know that I love you, right? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): To the moons and back, yeah… Mom you promised nothing bad was going to happen to you.  EEVEE:  And nothing will. Good night, Baird.  BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Night Mom.  SOUND: DOOR CLOSING. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Which button was it to end the recording? Was it this o– SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

- EEVEE BELL. BAIRD BELL. must contact Frannie’s friend about both of those names. - Dome Wardens are indeed an old, out of date job. Eve is right, they’ve been replaced with robots. It’s actually kinda scary how right she was about things. About that, about Dark Matters probably covering everything up with New Kinshasa. - Cyrus and Eve sound so fun together. I can see why they got married and had a kid together. - Bairdy and Memma… right up there with Charls and Dearest. - Oh Baird, he was 12 when these recordings were made. 12. Just almost a teenager, not quite. Almost too old to be called a baby. - Eve loved Baird so much. She reminds me of my mother a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing tucking Baird into bed that final time. There’s no doubt in my mind this is the last recording with her in it. She was taken away after this and never came back. The Dome Wardens did go on strike at some point according to Baird in other recordings, so did someone snitch to a Constable? Did she the Constable that almost caught her and Cyrus track her down? - I think that’s the most frustrating part of my job. No matter how much I dig and research, there are some things that will be lost to me forever.

[nerves-nebula]

oooo your answer about belos changing up how he treats hunter gives me thoughts. (this turned out longer than I planed but I have so many thoughts

slightly off topic but kinda related is the concept that Belos is only able to inhabit dead/decaying things, and how his human body actually 'died' but he's been possessing it. Eventually it gets difficult to keep that up though. But based off that I think his change in behaviour is because of how divided he is?

like physically he's been torn from his human body and splattered to pieces, and the only amount of him that was able to actually get to the human realm was only a small amount of his body.

So like, he just.. doesn't have all his thoughts. His memories are scrambled and his goals are mixed up because he isn't whole. (Plus I'd imagine he's probably disorientated in the human realm, it's nothing like he thought it would be and still not like the demon realm).

So with his faulty thinking he just. Caleb looking person? Sounds(?) like Caleb? A person he's able to connect to (back to the belos-possesses-dead-things. Hunter is made up of parts, a lot more susceptible to the possession goop than a """real""" living person. But not susceptible enough that belos has full 100% control).

Which to Belos? He might interpret that as a sign that it was destined rather than coincidence, plus with Flapjack around (probably one of, if not thee thing Belos viewed as "entrapping Caleb into the Demon Realm" the lines between Caleb and Grimwalker blurred too much.

tldr belos physically lost a large part of himself, therefore his thinking abilities are highly altered, and with all his psychological stuff going on he latched onto the only thing he really understands, wants, and knows after his world(s) have been destroyed; Caleb. Even if it's not really Caleb, because what else could drive him now?

And alternative that's funny-sad-not-funny is that Hunter could've been a nickname Belos gave Caleb because they were witch hunters, and he's been calling the grimwalkers that for irony, but when they become too much like caleb he just.. why not accept his brother is back?

been putting off answering this cause of business & wanting to give it a proper amount of thought/attention but I JUST

AUGH

I FUCKIN LOVE THIS IDEA. I LOVE EVERYTHING YOU'VE SAID HERE. Idk how supported by canon it is but its not exactly REFUTED and it's just!! REALLY fun ????

Like, how did I not make the connections between Belos possessing dead things, grimwalkers being partially "dead" in a way, he fact that only a tiny amount of goop escaped- meaning he might not be "all there" because of his body being so utterly decimated.

I also fucking ADORE the idea of Hunter having been an actual nickname, maybe like a kind of pet name Philip and Caleb threw back and forth at each other? I might integrate that into my Kidnapped Caleb AU, we'll see.

It's sooo weird cause he acknowledges that Hunter isn't Caleb (talking to Luz about how he'd thought this "one" was a lost cause, he clearly knows Hunter is his creation) but then he keeps calling him his brother/Caleb and its like MY GUY. WHAT are you DOING.

And yes belos is SOOO obsessed with saying things are "destined" to happen I can see him having An Emotion and just, latching onto it as Destiny. That's basically what he's been doing for 400 years why STOP THE HOT STREAK NOW!

[multiplefandomsblog]

request(s); IZURU SMUT WITH AFAB READER - IT DOESNT MATTER WHAT THE CONTENT INCLUDED IN IT IS,I JUST, NO ONE REALLY WRITES FOR THE SCARY M A N 😢😢😢

paring(s); Izuru x AFAB!reader

warning(s); cussing, woAHH reader is a prostitute hired by enoshima, reader is AFAB, oral sex (m receiving), humiliation kink whoop, degradation kink double whoop, ah yes dirty talk, degrading names, spit-play,  prositution, multiple orgasms, wall sex, slow and steady wins the race, dumbification, begging, dacryphillia, sadism, kind of like fuck or die???? but not really??????? AND DEAR LORD I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING WITH THIS GOD oii

note; i actually had a dream similar to this— also i lowkey got attached to these characters and now im seriously considering making a series of this???? DHSBJDDBF IDK IT REMINDS ME OF, LIKE AAAA IDK

wc; 4.1k+

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Everything was terribly boring. 

It was funny; that had been the only thought Izuru seemed to have in his brain, even as you were on your knees sucking him off like he was your last meal. Glaring down at you, he stifled a disappointed sigh. In all honesty, you weren’t bad; but he knows he could do much better, perhaps even find much better. It was almost a guarantee that he’d get someone else to do the job for him much better. 

Sitting on the throne of a comfortable chair, he had barely broken a sweat, nor had he even moaned a single time. Of course, that would frustrate you; you were squeezing whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, ‘faking’ moans—or at least that’s what you told yourself you were doing—to send vibrations down his spine, and swallowing all the filthy pre-cum of his cock had released. And the man didn’t even have the gall to at least pretend to like it. 

It irritated you.

Why had he even accepted Enoshima’s offer for you if he hadn’t even been enjoying it? You hadn’t even touched yourself yet, and you were the one completely soaking in your panties—whilst you swore you heard him sigh, and not one of pleasure. Every part of it was humiliating for you.

“This is boring, get off.” You perked your head up, popping your lips off the unsatisfied pink tip, and to your humiliation, you looked up at him with sad, puppy dog eyes; ones that you hadn’t even purposely put on. You felt your heart drop all the way down to your stomach, “Boring…?” Well, that did it. 

Desperation turned into anger, and before you knew it, you had been crawling on this man’s lap, thighs straddling him, and hands digging into his shoulder as you looked down at him with feigned dominance. You gritted your teeth, he hadn’t a single reaction, just a look of genuine curiosity, and the same look of bored annoyance. He didn’t seem to like being suddenly touched, not like you even cared. Boring, huh? You’d prove to this self-entitled fuck, you weren’t as boring as he thought you to be. 

“... What do you think you’re doing?” With his question of genuine intent to know, his dull tone of voice seemed to have affected your interpretation of what he truly meant to say. Despite the condescending and almost offended tone, he truly wanted to know. Someone like you, crawling into his lap as if you hadn’t been face-to-face with possibly the world’s most dangerous human being; brought a small spark of interest in his chest.

Maybe you had some potential, he would think. “Are you trying to prove yourself to me?” With his eyes gleaming with curiosity and anticipation, you leaned back as you felt him lean in. With his nose inches away from yours, you shrunk just a slight but kept your act as strong as you could hold it for.

You gulped, gaze and grip faltering underneath his piercing gaze. Suddenly you felt small again. Your previous surge of dominance seemed to crumble and collapse as he brought his hands up to grope at your hips, reminding you who was really in charge here. He narrowed his eyes as he felt your hesitance and yielding, his large hands that had cupped your ass had practically been supporting all your weight as you backed down in the body and in mind. Damn it. He wondered where your confidence went, it was only just getting fun— but perhaps, all good things come to an end.

Well. He wasn’t going to let you give up that easily.

Suddenly, he let go, causing your ass that had once been held up by his hands, to fall back and knock onto his knees harshly; and you swore you could see a ghost of an expectant smirk on his face. Surprising you further, Izuru uttered 4 words that only seemed to confuse you, yet excite you all the same.

“Go on then. Try.” Your breath hitched, averted eyes now confused and focused them back onto the long-haired male. “W- what?” Izuru’s eyes narrowed at you, and the impatient look he had sent to you almost felt like a reward as you felt yourself growing more sodden. “Try and prove that you aren’t just another hole. That’s why you’re still here, no?” He spoke, and you swore you could hear his voice lower in tone.

He rested his hands on the armrests of his chair, leaning back ever so slightly as he got comfortable; as if he was about to watch a performance made just for him—which hadn’t been far from the truth.

But to your surprise and not his, you obeyed. 

If this was your chance to prove yourself to him— the ultimate hope that everyone seemed to be intimidated by—you’d take it. Of course, you would. 

Despite the growing anxiety in your heart that you’d mess up, you pushed it down and put one brave façade; he would sense your fear if you displayed it too much. 

Your efforts turned futile anyway; you should’ve known he’d sense your hesitance. 

Acknowledging your hesitance you thought hadn’t been too obvious about, Izuru brought it up. “What’s stopping you? Your fear?” Izuru hummed, leaning down to peck at your chest, “Well, that’s understandable; you should be scared.” Followed by the light sound of his lips against your heated shoulder. 

“... Though I assume that’s not what you’re afraid of at this moment.” Assume? More like knew. You were so predictable to him, a flick of your finger could tell him exactly what you’re thinking. With a tender gaze you were surely seeing wrong, he stared up at you expectantly as he waited for your answer. 

“Well?” You gritted your teeth at his sudden gentleness, taking more offence to it than you should have. You didn’t like being treated with kid gloves, not by him at least; for all you know, he kills children. “I’m not scared of anything—” He was huge, of course, you were terrified. ”How do you know I’m not just trying to slow it down, so you’re ready for it?” You challenged, shifting yourself above his tip that still glistened with your saliva from the earlier blow. Izuru looked at you, nearly taken aback. 

It made you feel incompetent. As if he thought you couldn’t do it, as if he thought you couldn’t give him the best night of your life. Of course, you’d be offended. No one likes being underestimated, especially not by him. It just brings you a whole new different feeling of humiliation. 

And he knew that. He just wanted you to hurry up, you know, provoke you a little. Foreplay was… Boring; he’d think with a small smile.

“Surely, you’re not that idio—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, lips parting and eyebrow twitching from the way your slick cunt slid over the tip of his dick, sinking in with ease. “I- I’m not what?” You breathed out, a shaky, smug grin contorting on your face as you tried your best to conceal the fact his dick had felt like it had literally been splitting you in two. “Hnnahh— Jesus-” You dropped your head for a second, nails digging deeper into the material of his suit; surprisingly, he didn’t care all that much about the material damage—at the moment, he cared more about the fact you hadn’t even sunk half his dick in yet, and you already looked like you were near-tears.

Maybe care would be an overstatement. 

You bit down on your once-smug smile, jaw going slack as you felt the pleasant curve of his dick, rub against your vaginal walls ever so slightly—following the movements of your own heavy panting. “You shouldn’t be so cocky, S/o.” He didn’t seem to hear the irony hiding in between his almost-mocking words.

You scoffed at his taunting statement, staring him straight in the eye as you walked further into his trap, and sunk down lower—stifling a wince as you felt him sink in you alarmingly deep. How big was he!? Well, you already knew the answer to that question. Your jaw still hurt from earlier. But that stretch had been positively incomparable to the stretch your pussy had currently been experiencing. 

Izuru pursed his lips, silently groaning at the way your walls clamped onto him as if you were already trying to milk him of his cum. You were so tight, he noted in his mind; well he wasn’t going to complain. As a sex worker, he would’ve expected you to be looser, easier to slip in; it seemed one of his predictions had been incorrect. 

In a dry, uncaring tone, he addressed the bead of sweat forming on your forehead from the stretch. “Can you really take it? You look like you’re in pain.” the part that irked you the most had been the small undertone of genuine concern for your being. Yeah, Izuru; the ultimate I-don’t-care-if-you’re-dead, cared if you could take his dick. 

Maybe your heart would’ve been swelling with joy, had it not taken a large hit on your pride. You were a sex worker, not the protagonist of a fucking romance comedy. 

You could feel yourself growing angrier and angrier by the second; a large part of you just wanted to get him off and leave—but there was a larger part of you that… strangely wanted to please this man, prove him wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, the urge was purely sexual. 

Rolling your eyes at his ‘concern’, “Can you just- Nh!” you held your breath before clutching onto his suit a little more desperately than you wanted to as you sunk the rest of him inside you. Embarrassment made its debut in your reddening cheeks as you unwillingly let a few whimpers slip out. “—B- be fucking quiet? For on- Mn! O- once?” He paused before retorting back in that same blunt tone, seemingly unamused by your curses as he had been busy watching your bodily reactions closely, as well as feeling them first hand. “... You’re shivering.” He addressed the tremor of your shoulders, as well as the contractions of your walls against his cock. 

“It- It’s cold.” You lied through your teeth, to which he found annoying; surely, you knew that he would read through that lie, so what was the point of even trying? 

Sighing in annoyance, he bucked his hips, exhaling sharply through his nose as you yelped and collapsed onto him, body going limp as you felt him hit your sweet spot. With a slightly panicked moan, you dug your shined face deeper into the crook of his shoulder, causing him to shiver as he felt the breath of your moan hit his neck. “Hnn-! A- a- already?” Izuru scoffed quietly, “I thought you wanted me to be quiet. Which one is it?” Izuru’s condescending voice kissed your ear, and you felt your own shivers being sent down your spine from his voice alone. 

Putting on an annoyed façade that would soon shatter, you rolled your eyes—something you would probably be doing often tonight. “You’re really annoying, you know th-? Oh-! Oh fuck-!” You moaned, eyes shooting open, revealing your dilated pupils to the wall behind him. With your hands fanned out on his suited back, you arched your back against him, grinding slowly as you hugged him off the back of his chair. 

Mewling quietly, you found yourself trying to stifle your own moans, so you could hear better his own; only to pout as you heard nothing. Your sole purpose and presence with him at this moment had been to please him. You… needed to please him.

And only Atua knows what Junko’ll do to you if she finds out you didn’t satisfy him. 

Sighing in slight frustration, you felt him tense underneath your touch as you locked your lips onto his neck, lips searching and exploring every inch of the sensitive skin of his neck. Izuru’s eyes widened a fraction, only to lid as he felt himself growing bored again. “What are you doing?” You muffled against his neck, “I’m trying to find your erogenous zone—“ a large grin grew on your face as you felt him go rigid and stiff against you—as if he wasn’t already rigid and stiff—as you grazed your teeth on a certain spot on his Adams’s apple, a sign that you hit the jackpot.

“There, huh? I never would’ve guessed…” You spoke through gentle moans caused by Izuru’s natural reaction to fuck up into you harder. He shivered, sure, he was good at everything; but even he didn’t know he had an erogenous zone—or rather, where it was.

And now you had this information. 

You felt your confidence sprout back up again as you felt him melt, slowly but surely into your embrace, and slowly but surely, you tried gaining back control of what had been happening. 

That had been your plan; but as soon as your hands reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, he flinched, nails digging into your hips harshly. “Hands off.” He growled, crimson gaze darkening in irritation from your feather-like tugs. 

Yeah, your plan. 

His scalp was sensitive, and he had made the mistake of reacting so strongly to your touch to it, right in front of you no less. It was a weakness; one you’d surely take advantage of as you fucked this man. Or rather, as he fucked you. Izuru grimaced as he could practically hear the mischievous grin in your voice, “Yeah?” with a warning tone, Izuru tried stopping you, “S/o.” you probably shouldn’t have felt as excited as you did from his warning voice; especially from a guy like him, but there was a part of you that really wanted to know what would happen—what he was warning you about. 

So you made the best mistake of your life; and tugged the already impatient man’s hair. 

Izuru hadn’t given you the time to even inhale a single breath, as he had you pinned to the wall in half a second. Shit, he’s fast. Well, what did you expect? Izuru was definitely more than ordinary—and as you still felt the stretch burning between your legs, you knew that more than anyone. “I- Izuru?” Izuru sighed as you shrunk underneath his hold, forcing him to hold you up by his hips that had been pressed up against you. Your cattiness seemed to disappear the moment he manhandled you to the wall; it was predictable. All bark, no bite. He wondered why he wasted his time with you. 

With your eyes wide and helpless, Izuru remained unamused. “Let’s get this over with.”

Underneath the shell of your body, you could feel your blood boil as the man thrusting into you, had given you that familiar condescending stare of pity. He didn’t seem very pitiful as he watched you writhe and squirm underneath him from his unrelenting pace, though you could still read the emotion clear as day; your eyes glared right back at him—though you could barely see where you had been glaring, as your vision had been blurred from your own tears.

He was planning to push you to your limits, because, maybe when you’re sobbing and begging for him to stop; maybe then, you’d be less boring. 

‘He was the ultimate at everything; of course, he would be good at this too-’ “Fuhh...- fuck!” Your first orgasm of the night washed over your body, shaking uncontrollably as you had been less than prepared for it. You’d often have to fake your orgasms or get yourself off once the person using you was done. So you, whether it was fortunately or unfortunately, weren’t used to cumming so quickly. Previous thoughts of distaste had been long forgotten, as you had now been completely weak; moments away from breaking down and throwing away your dignity to prolong sex with Izuru. 

Sobs spilled out of your mouth as Izuru helped you ride out your high. The man watched you from above, hands hooking underneath your thighs and slamming you against the wall harder than your body had gone slack in your arms. For him, it felt more like he was pleasuring you—but for some reason, he didn’t mind all too much. 

Through tear-stained eyelids, you glared at him, your warm body still trembling from the near-mind-blowing orgasm he granted you. “I- I can take it.” At least, you thought you could. In all honesty, you didn’t care. You wanted it, and furthermore, he hasn’t even cum yet. Your job wasn’t finished. If you had to be fucked until your mind broke for him to cum, you’d do it. You didn’t have a choice—but even if you did, you wouldn’t deny him; you’d have to be insane to. 

“How... persistent…” Izuru murmured quietly to himself, bringing a hand up to tap your chin, causing you to perk your head up and flush at the gentle touch; the way he looked at you made you feel as if you were a mere science project being examined. It may have not been ideal, but being gazed at like nothing but a lowly bug is better than being ignored.  

It was so easy to fuck you into submission, he thought. Grunting, he pulled all the way out, lip twitching at the lewd squelch of your pussy. He almost lost himself in the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his cock once again, before tightening as if you were trying to welcome him back in.

Izuru, with a sharp inhale, roughly slammed back in, hitting all the right places despite the thrust being as quick as a flash of a camera. You gasped for air, you felt as if you had just been punched with his hips—and before you could recover from it, you felt him pull out yet again, only to slam back in, a small exhale huffing out the man’s lips as he kept on doing that same repetition. 

“F- faster— Pl- please!” You choked out as tears welled up in your eyes, his thrusts had been so powerful and forceful, yet so calculated; as if he was aiming for your G-spot every time he thrust in—which he was. He growled under his breath, voice still monotone but more strained than before—it was almost impossible for him.  

“You’re too tight to go fast.” He deadpanned, “if I go any faster, I might break you.” He didn’t really care whether he broke you, but who in their right mind would want to be broken? 

It was almost comedic how quickly you perked up at the mention of being broken. “I- I wanna! Really bad, r- real bad! Please!” You blabbered and begged like an idiot, your dignity long gone. He hissed at the way your pussy gushed with your juices and excitement, struggling yet again to piston himself into you. “Do you only think with your cunt?” Izuru narrowed his eyes down at you, disbelief and disgust gleamed in his red eyes; and it only made you squeeze around him unwillingly.

You shrunk, shaking your head as a babyish pout contorted onto your lips. “N- no, I-” The slow slapping noises of his hips on yours grew in volume, and your eyes widened as you could feel and hear him getting more frantic, hitting you deeper—places you were sure weren’t even supposed to be touched were abused by the crown of his growing cock.

Through a tone that tried its best to be calm and composed, Izuru shakily breathed out. “Open your mouth.” 

“W- Huh?” With slurred speech and crossed eyes, you tried your best to find his red eyes through the tears that blurred your vision. You were so fucked out, you weren’t even sure if he had actually said anything or if it had been your imagination.

“You heard me, don’t play dumb.” You hadn’t been playing dumb; you were dumbed. But Izuru held no patience for your games, and you could definitely feel that in his increasingly painful grip on your ass—he was sure to leave a bruise on your skin. With a confused look in your eye, you hesitantly dropped your jaw for him, whimpering and jolting as you felt something wet spew into your mouth. Before you could whine or even get the chance to complain, Izuru had forcefully knocked you against the wall again, lightly hitting your head as he steadied you against the surface with one hand as he used the other to close your jaw.

You hadn’t even registered the fact you had spit into your mouth as your mind had been too foggy from the intense feeling building up in your stomach once again. “Swallow.” Without so much as a questioning noise as a reaction to what he had done, you obeyed. Swallowing thickly with bleary eyes, you tried your best to keep eye contact with the man who seemed way too calm for the aggressive pace he had been maintaining like a pro.

Not thinking much of it, you dropped your jaw and flattened your tongue down against your chin; it was almost instinctual as you obediently showed him you had swallowed all of it. It seemed to please him, as he traced his thumb absentmindedly over your jawline; it almost felt like a reward, to be touched like that. His gentle hands differed greatly from his pace that fastened within each second that passed the both of you by. 

Your moans grew in volume, and you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed by how fucking good it felt to be fucked by him; moans and groans turned into full-blown hysterical sobbing as you felt your second climax approach. He grunted in frustration as he felt your walls clamp around him once again, convulsing as you gasped for air, his breaths huffing out in small intervals as he tried to get himself to his own high. 

Nothing was said as you threw yourself into him, hugging himself close to you as if he was your lifeline despite your twitching body—you weren’t sure how long you could hold on before you passed out, but you tried your best to stay conscious. He hadn’t cum yet.

It may have frustrated him, but it also frustrated you. Running your hands down his neck to his well-defined jaw, you cradled his skull before attaching your lips onto his neck desperately, practically slobbering over him like a dog as you kissed and sucked at his neck—to which he groaned quietly at. It was a terrible job, you were necking him so sloppily, and he hated himself for grading your performance when really, he should’ve been indulging in it.

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, combined with your small moans that you tried to muffle against his neck, had overwhelmed his senses and he found himself going blank in the mind for less than half a second. 

It was dangerous, to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 

So without another word, sound, or thrust, he hoisted you up and dropped you against the chair; in which you unravelled like a velvet carpet over the soft, plush furniture. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you didn’t want to part from him, you didn’t want it to stop. There, he continued his assault to your already battered cunt, grunts and sharp sighs spilling out his mouth as he concentrated on getting himself to climax. 

“F- fuck, Izuru— Izuru, you’re splitting me- in t- two!” You sobbed out, arms flying up to wipe your tears away that prevented you from seeing the esthetical man above you. With his hair looking like it was flowing behind him, and the thin layer of sweat shining on his skin, you felt your heart beat a little faster— what?

You hadn’t even been able to register the dread of the realization of your feelings, as, without warning, Izuru creamed inside you. His hips stuttered to a stop, and he leaned himself completely over your body that had folded over the back rest of the chair, nose meeting the crook of your mid-chest. “Hhah...” He panted, clammy hands that had been gripping onto your skin tightly, loosened as he took a second before getting up and off you. 

You scrambled up from your position on the chair, legs and pussy numb as you struggled sitting up.“Wait Izuru—!” You called out for him, catching his attention as he cleaned himself up with a convenient towel Junko had left on the table. 

Zipping up the fly of his pants, he stared at you, waiting for you to continue what you had been planning to say as he flattened the creases of his suit. 

“W- were you...” You gulped, flushing as you recalled what you had done earlier. “Were you satisfied?” Your voice had been meek, afraid of his answer for more than one reason. Junko really would show you despair if she found out you didn’t satisfy him. “... I’ll let her know I was.” You sighed in relief, shoulders going slack as you fell back on the chair. You’d live another day.

[music-as-a-haunting]

ok i KNOW the ask game said specify a character but i think all ur pronoun/sexuality takes on all the mash guys would be very cool :3

M*x im fucking love you thank you for the precious gift youve given me…

ALRIGHT M*A*S*H BOYS NIGHT PRIDE EDITION

Hawkeye- is malewife a gender nah but weirdly enough i think Hawk is a he/him but in a “Harry Styles wearing a skirt and nail polish in 2018 while everyone on the internet collectively lost their shit” way. He is, as if I even had to say it, a disaster bisexual.

Trapper- all around red blooded american man, he/him, not exactly disaster bisexual but bisexual with a sunglasses emoji infusion 😎. he WOULD find it funny/endearing if you used she/her pronouns like yes I am that bitch hello how may I help you.

B.J. HUNNICUT IS THE WHOLE FRUIT SALAD. Idk this is just my hc but I feel like he is definitely in a lavender marriage with Peg like they definitely are best friends and they do love eachother but holy fuck Bea Jay Hunnicut is a funny little mlm he/they I want to see him in pain

Frank Burns- he fucking sucks i dislike talking about him but I really wish they fleshed out the “secret repressed homosexual that hates himself” idea so yeah he/him passably straight on the outside little fruit tart on the inside

Charles Emerson Winchester III- Secret Repressed Homosexual that Hates Himself Prime. I am a gay Charles purist and I can and absolutely will die on this hill. who the fuck is Donna He/Him and sometimes the royal “we” just cause hes my special little guy and he can.

Henry Blake- his pronouns are they/them! actually though? I feel like Henry could pretty solidly slot into the non-binary identity. Is this based on fact? No! Its based entirely on vibes (which is arguably more accurate) unrelated but they would also wear the “Women want me fish fear me” hat without a trace of irony

Sherman Potter- now THERE is a trans man who wouldve fuckin thrown down at stonewall. he/him StraightGuy tm who just loves his wife and his horses Very Much. arent there a lot of stories of AFAB ppl dressing as men to join the army? also i hc all of his buds in Old Soldiers to be trans guys too.

Radar- whats that post that goes like “I think Radar is autistic with massive amounts of t boy swag” its really funny but I would like to tweak the narrative n this one. I think Radars mom has the type of rural homegrown wisdom where she thinks the severity of her morning sickness would determine the babies gender so she assumed Radar would be a girl so everyone got her little dresses and painted the Radars room pink but after Radar was born she just. raised her as a girl anyway? you cant exactly scrap a 1-10 year female wardrobe and buy new in Ottumwa so out of convenience he was raised as a girl but recognized as a boy. so i feel by the time he gets drafted in korea and has spent plenty of time performing as both genders he really doesnt care anymore and only prefers mens clothing because he personally finds it more comfortable. i think he would accept he/she/they pronouns and be demisexual.

Klinger- said you were a lesbian girl me too I really dont know how to explain is but Klinger is both a straight man and a lesbian at the same time. definitely he/they/she and demisexual like Radar… i feel like Klinger is your dads older sibling and Radar is your moms younger sibling. same vibes for sure but different auras.

Father Mulchahy- ive been waiting for this one (and another thank you to M*x for letting me on my soapbox) FATHER! MULCHAHY! IS! NOT! ASEXUAL! HE! TOOK! A VOW! OF! CHASTITY! TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS! Please dont feel like im coming for your neck specifically if this is your hc its totally valid to want ace representation and it would only feel natural to assign it to the character who doesnt have any relationships as a part of their backstory or characterization but I feel like only assigning Mulchahy with this role is not only some pretty upsetting ace tokenism but harmful to the sanctity of his faith and vows he took on as a priest. That being said! I think Mulchahy is bisexual (and would probably think Jesus was too) and I think you could address him with he/they pronouns but has a slight preference towards he.

Sidney Freedman- It seems like almost everyone in my post has come down with a case of the bisexual he/theys 🤒 but yeah besides Hawkeye I think Sidney would be the vocal about his identity? He could run circles around homophobes and transphobes who try to claim gay/transness to be a disease and I think his wife probably knows and supports his identity although they remain monogamous (Sidney is NOT a cheater >:( )

Thanks so much for the ask!! I hope I answered thouroughly enough and if I forgot anyone please let me know so I can hit myself really hard with a cast iron pan