#he doesn’t even drink

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Arthur: Seriously, Merlin? The tavern again?!

Merlin, covered in blood and exhausted from running for both his and Arthur’s lives through the woods: yeah… sure…

[swampthingking]

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

-

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

[sunnythedawg]

[synonymroll648]

headcanon that the reason sophie still has eyelashes to pull on the regular is that grady and edaline worked something out with the dizznees to get a tasteless formula to help eyelash growth specifically to put drops of in her bottles of youth. because there’s no way her ptsd-induced trichotillomania (oversimplified definition for those who aren’t familiar: hair pulling disorder) is gonna die down during the war, so they’re trying to make sure she doesn’t move from eyelashes to eyebrows or her Hair hair by giving her More Eyelashes

[inkclover]

☀️☕️ morning routines (and shenanigans)

[rubysparx]

im a fan of this guy

also these guys too or whatever;

(do not repost, click for a little more quality!)

[s0fter-sin]

vampire bats share mouthfuls of blood to other bats they’re close to if they weren’t able to feed and now i need old vampire!ghost sharing a bloody kiss with fledgling!soap, giving him mouthfuls of blood bc his fresh fangs are too sensitive to bite with

it’s been so long since he was turned that ghost’s forgotten the deep ache that comes with growing fangs and he almost worries when johnny goes to bite into the meal he’s brought him only to whimper and pull back; only the slightest pinpricks of a bite left in the man’s neck, barely enough to bring blood to the surface

it’s only when johnny whines and massages at his gums that ghost realises his oversight; crooning at his sweet mate in reassurance. he’s not upset that he couldn’t feed, at the unintentional rejection of his offering. he’ll make the pain stop

ghost pulls the man to his mouth and sinks in his fangs, sucking in a heavy mouthful and drops the now paralysed prey back to his feet; his throat steadily gushing with blood and spilling over his body

he cups johnny’s face, looking into his eyes, teary with pain and hunger, and purses his lips to carefully drip the blood into his mouth. the pain immediately vanishes from his eyes, replaced with pure bliss as he opens his mouth wide; curling his tongue to catch every drop. ghost presses his mouth to his in a hungry, blood-filled kiss; tongues twining together as they share the taste

johnny sucks the last of it from his lips and ghost guides him down to lap at the prey’s neck; licking up the blood he was too weak to draw himself. he’s ravenous with it, his whole face covered in red as he licks up the spill and suckles at ghost’s bite

ghost’s filled with an overwhelming pride at having provided for his mate in an even deeper way than just hunting for him. he spilled the blood johnny’s drinking; fed him in the most intimate way their kind knows and he’ll do it a hundred times over for his love

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[wistfullywaiting2]

Odasaku, Sasaki, and the orphanage headmaster are all buried in the same cemetery.

So Kunikida, Atsushi, and Dazai all run into each other grave visiting regularly and politely pretend they don’t. They never acknowledge the meaning behind the bouquets brought, even if all of them know the others know flower language. They never acknowledge the tear streaks down Atsushi’s face, or the solemn look on Kunikida’s. Atsushi never points out how the scent of whiskey is always a bit stronger on Dazai’s coat. They never acknowledge the location of their accidental meetings.

Sometimes Kunikida might offer to take them to get food, or Atsushi will offer a random hard candy from his pocket, on colder days Dazai might lend his coat. None of them are really themselves when faced with grief, and none of them will to hold it against each other.

[s7-evermore]

IDEA: Idia with a Science-y, girly pop gf

Okay so I was rereading one of my favorite romcoms “Love on the Brain” by Ali Hazelwood (one of my faves) and there’s this one side character there named Kaylee, the assistant of the ML who’s such a pink, girly pop character and she eventually falls for the FL’s assistant, who’s an emo girl.

And a thought occurred to me… what if Idia had a pink, girly pop prefect who loved science? Specifically astrophysics and engineering?

On top of being kind, earnest, and generous, she’s also fun, interesting to talk to, good with people, literally has the cutest smile, wears cute fashionable clothes, does her nails and just owns a lot of pink pink pink! Literally the definition of an it-girl but she’s ALSO intelligent, outspoken, witty, good at games, an AWESOME older sister (Ortho just LOVES her), and is just great at keeping up with Idia!

Idia’s initial thought when he first sees her would probably be “holy shit. It’s one of those extroverted sunshine mf who is the complete opposite of me so that’s another person on my list to avoid”

But then one day when he asks Azul to help him add updates to Ortho, Azul brings along Grim and the prefect and it takes everything in him not to PANIC because the PINK SUNSHINE GIRL IS THERE AND HE HATES IT

WHY is that living incarnation of SUNSHINE in Ignihyde where she’s NOT supposed to be?!

But suddenly she starts fawning over Ortho’s systems and asks him questions and eventually figures out how Ortho’s program works and Idia is suddenly swept up in a long ass conversation about engineering, and then they move on to games, and then Idia says his typical self-deprecating but also condescending stuff about her being a normie and she just DOESN’T get offended and even quips back with witty remarks and Idia just gets SO amused by her—

—that he suddenly realizes holy shit…. She’s actually… pretty cool……like…..I would….tolerate this human being……and she’s also hot……so…….

THE THOUGHT OF IT IS JUST SO CUTE?!! LIKE BRODIES IMAGINE:

Sunshine girlie pop prefect with her nail-art covered nails, twin-braided hair with cute tiny flower clips, white sleeveless crop top with the frilly pink skirt, a fuckin watermelon-shaped purse, pink flower earrings, and a pink flower necklace with the first letter of her name in the middle of it, holding a pink drink while she’s strongly going on about how standardized tests are institutional gatekeepers that graduate programs over-rely on for student admission and how expensive and outdated they are and that schools should focus more on a holistic approach for graduate admissions and blah blah blah…

And Idia is just…

Staring. At her. And he’s breathing quickly, lips parted, his cheeks are flushed, his hair is PINK like the flowers on her braids, and he clutches his tablet like he’s holding on for dear LIFE.

Despite her looks, she’s also realistic. She’s not needlessly naive nor is does she innocently believe that everyone is a good person.

She’s just who she is.

And holy shit. Idia is falling. HARD.

[kwillow]

Anon, sometimes a horn is just a horn.

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester

[fumifooms]

Makima, devils and self-fulfillment

Dumping some Makima and CSM thoughts after a part 1 binge bc I think about her forever and ever. I’m sure I’m forgetting some devil lore, feel free to correct what i get wrong/what’s been confirmed. On the table of contents there’s why & how Makima got fixated on Chainsaw, her revealing liking for the country mouse and discussion of her nature & emotions & desires. Was the scorpion doomed to be a scorpion?

The most of this post was thought of during a conversation with @saccharineomens and I don’t think it makes sense to jump into the spiral it sent me on without first laying down the interesting groundwork theorizing she did:

"Thinking about how makima herself wants to be deified. I wonder whether she recognizes the difference between Love As Worship and the love that Aki, Power, and Denji had. She says she wants to help humanity by having Chainsawman eat the “bad” devils, but why does she want to help humans? Because she was ordered to by the Prime Minister? No, her drive seems much more personal than that, it seems like she teamed up with the PM for contractual reasons. (In the most recent chapters we see governmental members wanting certain devils to be eaten, too. What was Makima’s relationship with them? She’s too independent to just follow THEIR orders, she’s Control.)

So is she wanting to better humanity for the accolades, or out of the goodness of her heart? She sees the big picture. She sees any small sacrifice as worth it for the end result, and she’s ruthless. Perhaps she thinks that a more sedate human race would be easier to control? But Makima doesn’t loathe humanity. She never acts like she sees all humans as lesser. She loves humanity’s creations, like good food and movies. She just wants Good Things all the time

She says she prefers the country mouse BUT adds a story where she helps exterminate country mice like vermin. She likes the simplicity yet rejects the idea of being simple. Makima the complex individual you are"

~

The story itself seems to prefr the country mouse. Well- it strikes a balance, shows that a risk to live good & fully can be very worth it, but still that stability over ambition is preferable, proning having a simple happy life over fame, a simple job instead of a dangerous one, etc etc. And I do find Makima’s answer on this so so interesting, she prefers the country mouse, but this preference isn’t out of affection or sympathy but because of how relaxing it feels to exterminate them when they cause problems.

Order satisfies her. Her order satisfies her. She likes the action of rooting out disorder. Maybe this is the devil part, like how Power especially wants blood and drinking it, I feel there’s an itch to every devil, and for Makima it’s a very rigid world view/morality/standards & making things follow her rules and submit to her order.

And maybe this is why she’s attached to humans too, why she felt it was worth it to stick with the government- because devils are chaotic by nature (it’s a whole plot point that hell is essentially a free-for-all battleground for example), meanwhile humans are the species that universally rule Earth with systems they invented and instilled. They made then enforced rules, complex and intricate webs of them. She feels alienated amongst devils but she understands the humans’ need for an orderly organised society, and now she wants to be part of it. Control and conquest require social dynamics after all, requires civilizations or groups. War is chaotic while peace is, well, peaceful— Makima resents her sisters for being death, famine and war, things that throw the world in such chaos. She wants a world of perfect order, no matter how much collateral damage there will be if the end result is control.

This is even more interesting if you consider that yes, Makima is untouchable of her own design, she deifies herself with her omnipresent amount of control and the sway over others that she seeks and encourages— There is this urge to dehumanize her for it, that yes, she is the devil of control and that means she was never going to be any different, have any more feeling be any less uncanny. And I love part 2 so much for this, because it shows us the war devil and the famine devil and we see how frankly uncharismatic with poor self-discipline they are, Nayuta too, and it helps us realize just how much Makima’s success was self-made.

She admires Chainsaw Devil, the Hero of Hell, because he had his own code and his own rules and he made Hell, the chaos pit, submit to them unfailingly. Wherever he goes he decides what he does and what happens to the people he encounters but does so consistently, he has his mechanism and his rules that he always obeys, and he fulfills them every time. It’s still a mystery the why of Chainsaw Devil’s behavior back then and how it works exactly, maybe Pochita left hell because he was tired of these rules he lived by like chains, but still, he was a servant to his code. Makima would have been glad being killed and eaten by Chainsaw Devil because it’d have been becoming part of his design, his conquest, his domination, she’d have been part of that —his— order. Through her death she would be shaping his world and be part of a conqueror’s making history. Like how she appreciates the country mice that die for the sake of order. Like how sacrifices must be made to herself, like listing the name of every person whose life was lost to the Gun Devil— All for the ~greater good~, for her vision for the world. Conquest always thinks its reasons are justified.

And she does mention with the country mice thing that she goes out to a friend’s farm every year! She has a human friend?? That she visits yearly and she genuinely likes it?? Ultimately she lives a busy city life because of her goal and drive and her urge & satisfaction with overseeing shaping the world herself, but part of her, like so many characters including Angel and Aki and Reze, wishes she could live a slow peaceful country life. Moviegoing and dogs and mice in a farm- Wouldn’t it be so much simpler if Makima could find fulfillment and happiness in being a farmer, in keeping control of her own farm, getting satisfaction from exterminating vermin and expertly getting everything right, the right crops grown at the right time on the right soil? Here, too, in a way it’s trying to have full control of an ecosystem, but her goals would be easier to achieve and better, without ceaseless sacrifice or much pressure. But Makima wants grandiosity and her goal does matter to her on a fundamental and moral level, she does think she knows what’s best for the world, and with the power to change it why wouldn’t she strive to? Visiting the farm is just a break, just something she does in fall to help out and just in time to see the vermin extermination. It calms her, then it’s back to actual work.

In capitalism, even the one at the very top of the ladder is ultimately alienated from others and often unsatisfied by their lifestyle, always wanting more and more power because surely that’s the extra edge they must be missing to be content— like how Makima thinks she wants to dominate Chainsaw Devil instead of being his equal. And she says it herself too, she likes humans the way humans like dogs…….. And she keeps so many dogs :( Makima prefers the country mice because they’re calming to root out, maybe because she usually mainly deals with city mice. It’s very easy to equate humans to the mice in this allegory because it’s pretty direct and she’s already likened humans to lesser animals compared to her. She’s self-isolating by design for her design but she still craves relationships and contentment, and the dogs are the embodiment or her want for bonds and occasional simplicity because there is no possible ulterior motive, no way they tie back into her wider plan. They’re her personal life— something that feels so alien when speaking about Makima. Personality and individuality and likes and preferences and friends they visit every year. She likes how easily she can train a dog and how they become putty in her hands, at her beck and call, how much they love her and how much she enjoys their love. How simple and straightforward and easy it is. She keeps them because she likes being loved by them and loving them, and she’s gotten and raised so many. A conqueror always wants more and more and more, is never satisfied.

Devils and agency

Like Power the blood devil wanting blood and having a fixation on drinking it like with Denji’s, or how it was shocking that the violence devil was pretty tame and nice and how he himself theorized it was because he was a fiend and possessing a human body… There’s something to be said about nature vs nurture with the devils. The way they reincarnate and always embody their fear makes it seem categorically like nature, that they always always end up fulfilling the role they were named after and born to fill… Outside influence they’re helpless but to conform with. Like the humans accepting their spot in the social ladder and the shittiness of their living conditions and job under capitalism. Makima craved being equals with someone despite being the control/conquest devil, Angel Devil despite claiming to be a devil who likes to see humans dying was haunted by their deaths and wanted to avoid ones like Aki’s. The Ghost Devil being ironically haunted by Himeno, seemingly helping Aki in her memory out of… Lasting affection? Or maybe it was less about being haunted itself and more about it recognizing how Himeno haunted Aki, and acknowledging that, with the memento, paying her respect to the ghost of her. It’s Angel Devil’s devil nature that makes him like human suffering, so then is it his angel nature too to still care about their deaths? Is there truth to this or is that just personality, just our confirmation bias haunting every part of their identity like it might in their own view of themselves too? We do know different reincarnations of devils do have different personalities after all.

Yoru, war devil, is the most interesting one when talking about the nature vs nurture debate with devils. There is how through her we see the perhaps the most the consequences of a devil stopping being feared— we see a horseman for a concept as universal and horrifying as war be reduced to some bird who needs a contract with a human to have any power even just on the situation when meeting Asa. And through the story we get to know her better, and it becomes clear that her goal is fueled in good part by simply wanting to be remembered and respected through fear. Liked, validated, seen a powerful. But what is more isolating than war? Or control? We also see Nayuta accepting others’ house rules. If part 1 shows perhaps the futility of running away from the truth, with Denji’s memory, with escapist coping mechanisms, with passivity and denial under a corrupt system and with abusive relationships- running away from your own feelings and from the reality of things and from all that you are, more complex than simply human or devil or both or neither— part 2 builds upon the theme of cult of personalities, the chainsaw church, etc. The apocalypse is coming, but this celebrity superhero might save us all, or doom us all uh, dunno. The hero of hell reliving the cycle of pressure from responsibilities and expectations, maybe the part will end with Denji running away like Pochita did~

But yes, on the reverse, I think Famine is a very interesting example of how a devil’s namesake may be more innate than coerced by circumstances. One would think that a famine devil would only like inflicting famine upon others, not being famished itself, but Famine has a bottomless stomach that can never, ever be satisfied, sated. I struggle to find a psychological explanation for this, except that maybe instead of her being hungry it’s her feeling empty when she’s not eating, tasting and having that high sensory experience that releases serotonin in humans, sort of like drugs? But I do take this as a step towards the compulsion theory overall, feels like a reach in the consistency otherwise. And compulsion does not mean it’s something that they like nor that it’s something that they fight against, pretty neutral, just a nature that nudges you towards one path. Maybe it’s even just their go-to for entertainment. Maybe it’s the only thing that makes them feel right and whole. But still the debate remains, what is it, a compulsion or an urge or an itch or an active desire or a conscious chosen want? Does it change anything in practice?

And because of all of this earlier, devils being self-fulfilling prophecies with their role is not in unsignificant part nurture, because doing their atrocities is how they stay remembered— feared, powerful, known— hell and devils are a very isolating place and breed after all, and we do see devils can want companionship. Existentially, it’s their purpose and how they justify their place in the world, in the terrifyingly vast and unknowable cosmos.

We still know so little of what makes Chainsaw Devil so special, why his carnage is so self-controlled. Despite a chainsaw maybe being possibly one of the most "nature" thing you can be— a tool to cut things, a human tool that can be helpful for many things, something to be wielding by another at their judgement on what they decide, but mainly something to cut, a tool suited for carnage, to hurt and to destroy. A blade with a toothed chain, spinning around and around and around endlessly on the same road at the same pace. Such a…. Innately circular concept. And yet the Chainsaw Devil is his own, not driven by an urge or by chaos but his very own brand of order, his own unique assigned purpose, a "if you call i’ll come running to help" policy equalizing everyone. He chooses to withhold his destruction and interference otherwise, and then he chooses to be used. If it’s a choice, of course.

Maybe this is what inspired Makima so much, that Chainsaw Devil could decide what to make of himself despite expectations or innate role. Because even Hell he decided & managed to subjugate under his will and whim, with a precise vision and process. When Chainsaw Devil acts like Denji or is defeated, Makima clicks her tongue and loses her admiration and respect. Makima admired and liked Chainsaw Devil, but only as long as he matched her great image of him in her mind, as long as he followed he rules for what she thinks he should be like. She admired him for his unrivaled self-made success, but once he stepped out of that to truly embody self-fulfillment and agency, disappearing from hell to live on his own road at the beat of his own drum… Well. Surely that was a mistake she has to correct. However their second battle ends, the better conqueror will have prevailed and she’s happy about that, all in the spirit of domination and subjugation.

Imo Makima’s biggest tool, similarly capitalism’s most helpful effect for its own purposes, is complacency. Resignation and passivity helps uphold the system and go along the flow of the will of the people in power. Aki and Reze go along with orders even when knowing their job is trash, etc. In Angel Devil especially we see him go along with the flow uncaring about anyhing, and we discover it was in part due to Makima taking away memories that motivated him. If every devil decides this is just how things are and how things should be that’s what they’ll continue to be and do mindlessly, not pursuing a better life like Chainsaw Devil and Denj and not seeking to change the world like Makima. I think even Makima veils herself to a lot of things, she doesn’t like to think deeply about some things, like her desire for connection, or how making bad movies disappear is strenuous and unsustainable and requiring sacrifices at best— how her judgement is as subjective as anyone else. How liking the country mouse and her friend back at the farm and her dogs could be not devoid of sentimality. Wanting bad movies erased is her one biggest show of selfishness, of pettiness and individuality, it’s about her tastes, simple as. About how she can have tastes, and cry seeing a scene of people hug, and want things that aren’t logical, her ideology and mind twisted into a pretzel to avoid acknowledging that she doesn’t live and breathe purely for the mission she’s made a single-minded robot out of herself to accomplish. Nayuta is assertive and selfish and loud, Makima is manipulative and strategically both for her goals and for coping hollow.

Everything in her plans and goals she says is for the greater good, necessary evil, manufactured happiness the way she’ll have decided for people— and that’s the thing isn’t it, like with War, it’s the crack that shows it was all truly about herself after all. Her self-made deification still had the flaw that a self made it. Makima is not omniscient, and it’s not Chainsaw Devil the not-so-fellow-kindred-soul conqueror who gets the best of her, but a city mouse, a dog, someone she would have never thought to respect, Denji.

[dragonanon]

can you do a chapter based on your Death!Reader and God!Brother hcs where Death wakes up from her sleep and goes to Heaven to check up on her brother's children and everyone is obviously terrified of her?

Hmmm…I’m not typically one to do requests because the urge to write is so sporadic and random for me. BUT I have been thinking about the initial confrontation in Heaven for a while now, so here are some head cannons for that. >w>

——

- It’s a typical perfect day in Heaven…Until it isn’t. Having seen what had become of your realm and learning Heaven was to blame for it, you’re on your way to rip someone a new asshole.

- Screams erupt from the Angels as the ground begins to shake and the bright sky darkens. Sera and Emily rush out just in time to join the Angels in watching in abject terror as a massive pool of darkness forms on the ground, and from it slowly rises a menacing figure.

- The figure is massive, and it only continues to rise until even the tallest building barely reaches its hips. Its six long horns twist and arch toward the sky, only making the figure appear even taller. Upon reaching its full height, the figure spreads its six mighty wings, each one sporting a menacingly sharp claw and all as shrouded in darkness as the rest of the figure.

- As its wings blot out the sun further, the figure opens its many blazing white eyes; two where you’d normally expect to see eyes, a third in the center of its forehead, and dozens more scattered across its wings and body.

- Sera lost all color as soon as she saw the figure rising, and somehow lost even MORE color when the figure opened all of its eyes. She looks like she shit herself, and Emily is panicking, trying desperately to get Sera to tell her what’s going on; she’s never seen the older Seraph look so terrified.

- With this unimaginably imposing figure now looming over Heaven, Adam decides this is the PERFECT time to attack, having been dumb enough to think this was a Demon attacking Heaven.

- The exorcists fly up towards the figure, ready to attack. This only angers the figure further however, and with a rumble that shakes the ground itself, the figure merely flaps its wings; creating a gust of wind so powerful it knocks all the exorcists back onto the ground.

- It’s at this point Sera FINALLY snaps out of it, rushing to Adam in mad panic and damn nearly strangling him while telling him to call off the exorcists. Which he does, albeit with some reluctance.

- This doesn’t stop him from asking Sera what gives, and her response is “Adam you absolute fucking fool, that is DEATH!”

- Now it’s Adam’s turn to look like he shit himself. “Death? As in, “the big man himself’s younger sister” Death?? As in, “the baddest bitch you’ve EVER seen, but can kill ANYTHING by just touching it” Death??? THAT fucking Death????” Ignoring that last statement, Sera’s frantic nodding in confirmation confirms to Adam that he has indeed fucked up. Big time. Adam then proceeds to lose all color in his face and practically cowers behind Sera as she cautiously approaches you, mentally preparing herself to be reaped on the spot.

- Back to your perspective however, you’re fucking PISSED. So pissed that you don’t even notice or stop to think that most of Heaven’s inhabitants likely have NO CLUE who you are, and are likely legitimately fearing for their lives. Meanwhile for all the older Angels and Angelic beings who’ve been alive long enough to have known you before you went to sleep, like Sera, they’re all still very much afraid, but it’s more in line with the “oh shit mom’s home early and she saw the mess we made in the kitchen, she’s gonna kill us!” kind of fear.

- The fact that they sent exorcists at you makes you even angrier. Like for starters, how fucking weak do they think you are that you could be stopped by just some low level Angelic beings with pointy sticks?? And then the audacity to even attack you to begin with, like THEY weren’t the ones who fucked up and you’re just some kind of strange intruder needing to be slain?? The INDIGNITY of it all!

- Your voice booms throughout Heaven, making even the ground tremble at the sheer intensity of it. “WHO DID IT?” You’re met with only silence, so you ask again with more force. “MY REALM IS A COMPLETE MESS WITH MILLIONS OF DISPLACED SOULS RIGHT NOW. SO AGAIN I ASK, WHICH ONE OF YOU FLAT FOOT CHILDREN DID THIS?!”

- Sera replies, voice trembling slightly. “Are…Are you talking about the exterminations? “IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE CALLING THIS MOCKERY OF MY WORK, THEN YES.” Sera looks visibly confused and concerned. “But…That SHOULDN’T be possible!…The exterminations KILL the Sinners; their souls should be gone, not stuck in Limbo! There has to be some kind of mistake here!”

- Hearing this, you can’t help but let out a brief but harsh cackle, making the ground jolt from the abruptness. “DEAR YOU HONESTLY THINK A SOUL COULD BE SO EASY TO DESTROY? A SOUL IS A POWERFUL THING FOR A REASON CHILD, IF THEY WERE SO EASILY DESTROYED THEN NONE OF YOU WOULD BE STANDING HERE BEFORE ME NOW!…SO ONCE AGAIN, WHO. DID. THIS?! AND SO HELP ME, IF I HAVE TO ASK AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

- Whilst Sera is dumbfounded by this revelation, Adam sees a golden opportunity to save his ass and points at Sera. “I-It was her! Yeah it was all fucking HER idea! I-I tried to tell her it was stupid, b-but she just REALLY wanted to go down and kill those bast- Demons! Yeah she REALLY wanted to kill all those poor Demons, can ya fucking believe this shit?!”

- Before Sera can defend herself, the darkness seems to intensify, and she can just FEEL every one of your eyes glaring daggers into her. “SERA…YOU SIGNED OFF ON THIS?? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, I EXPECTED SO MUCH BETTER FROM YOU! I LEFT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO WORK TOGETHER TO SORT SOULS FOR THIS VERY REASON! AND NOW BECAUSE OF THESE BARBARIC “EXTERMINATIONS”, YOU’VE COMPLETELY DESTROYED THE BALANCE I WORKED SO HARD TO CREATE AND MAINTAIN. I HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE I’M CERTAINLY NOT!”

- It’s a strange and mildly amusing sight to see the head seraph get scolded like a misbehaving child by this massive dark entity. But here we are anyway!

- At one point during the tongue lashing you’re giving to your niece, Emily buts in and asks for an explanation for what’s going on; having not heard Sera’s previous explanation to Adam apparently.

- Your temper flares for a brief moment, and you just about launched into another lecture at the little shit who DARED interrupt you. But upon seeing Emily, you softened considerably, seeing that she was young and TRULY didn’t understand what was happening.

- “AH…I APOLOGIZE DEAR, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU…COME CLOSER LITTLE ONE SO I CAN SEE YOU.” You slowly crouch down and lower your hand, offering Emily to climb onto it. Emily is hesitant, obviously a bit scared of you. But Sera encourages her to go to you, she knows that you won’t hurt Emily and it’s high time she meets her aunt anyway.

- With the small seraph in hand, you stand back up to your full height and bring her closer to your face. Now FINALLY able to see her properly, you speak. “YOU’RE FAIRLY YOUNG FOR A SERAPH…YOU MUST’VE BEEN BORN DURING MY SLUMBER, AND IN THAT CASE I APOLOGIZE THIS HAD TO BE OUR FIRST MEETING. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME CHILD?”

- Her voice trembling slightly, Emily tells you her name and then asks who you are and asks if you’re a seraph like her and Sera. The innocent question gets a genuine laugh out of you, and despite it shaking the ground it’s a lovely sound. “OH CHILD, I AM FAR FROM BEING A SERAPH. THOUGH I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT. YOU WERE ALL MADE IN MY IMAGE AFTER ALL.”

- Seeing the visible confusion on Emily’s face, you elaborated. “LONG AGO, YOUR FATHER WANTED TO SHOW HIS APPRECIATION OF ME. SO FOR HIS FIRST SENTIENT CREATIONS, THE SERAPHIM, HE BASED THEM ALL ON ME.” Emily looks surprised, and follows up by asking how you know God.

- You give another genuine laugh at her question. “SWEETY I’M HIS YOUNGER SISTER, I AM “DEATH”, THE GODDESS OF WELL…DEATH. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME “D” OR “AUNT D”, MOST OF YOUR SIBLINGS DO.” Emily’s mind is blown “Wait! YOU’RE aunt D?! Sera told me all kinds of stories about you before you went to sleep, like the time you got into an argument with Father over his invention of the “Snuggie”. I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

- “IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A BATHROBE YOU WORE BACKWARDS, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE THOUGHT THAT WAS AT ALL CLEVER.” You huff, feeling amusement and mild irritation at that memory.

- “SPEAKING OF YOUR FATHER, WHERE IS HE?” Sera speaks up, having managed to recollect herself, and explains that no one has seen or heard a word from God since before you went to sleep.

- The irritated snarl that leaves your throat sounds like thunder and shakes the ground, making everyone tremble with fear. “THAT LAZY BASTARD HAD ONE FUCKING JOB, WATCH HIS DAMN KIDS, AND HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT?! NO WONDER THIS ALL HAPPENED THEN, HE LEFT YOU ALL UNSUPERVISED!”

- Bending over, you carefully set Emily down before standing back up. “I HATE TO CUT MY INTRODUCTION SHORT, BUT APPARENTLY I NEED TO GO AND HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH YOUR FATHER.” You stare pointedly at Sera and continue. “DON’T THINK THIS MEANS YOU’RE ENTIRELY OFF THE HOOK EITHER. WHILE YES, YOUR FATHER’S ABSENCE IS MOSTLY TO BLAME FOR THIS DEBACLE, YOU ALSO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS. WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THIS MORE ONCE I FINISH WITH YOUR FATHER, AND IF I COME BACK AND FIND OUT YOU HELD ANY MORE OF THESE “EXTERMINATIONS” I WILL TURN YOU INTO A HOLLOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Looking at the ground, Sera nods and says “Yes Auntie D…”

- Satisfied with that response, you bid everyone farewell and slowly melt back into the ground, completely disappearing. Once you’re gone, the sunlight is back and it’s as if you were never there.

- Now the seraphim have to soothe the murmuring crowd while Sera starts attempting to get in contact with Lucifer to let him know that “Hey Aunt D found out about the exterminations and is NOT happy about it. She just got done yelling at me, and now she’s on her way to go read Father the riot act. Just warning you now because once she’s done with him, you’re probably gonna be next.”

- Lucifer receives the message and is now frantically trying to create peace offerings in hopes they’ll make you more amicable, while also preemptively planning his own funeral in case the peace offerings don’t work.

- Meanwhile in God’s palace, God is currently relaxing in an elaborate hot tub and watching American football on an absurdly large TV whilst drinking wine like it’s water. He’s pretty drunk and having a grand time yelling at the TV.

- His fun is interrupted through by you literally kicking in the door and storming in, you’ve shrunken down to your smaller size so all your features are actually visible now and not covered in darkness as you glare at your older brother with an intensity that could peel paint.

- God startled momentarily before seeing it’s you and giving you a dopey smile. He’s also in his smaller form, so that makes things slightly easier for you. “Ohhh heeeyyy Death!…You startled me thereee…It’zzzz beeen awhillle, huh?” You scoff at his slurred speech, in disbelief that he could be so drunk right now.

- “Yes, it HAS been awhile. Good to see that you still choose to spend your days getting completely wasted instead of tending to your children.” You answer tersely, and God rolls his eyes. “Zzstill the saaame old ssstuck up bitch…Tha kidzz are fahine Deee! Yyyoou should cohme haave ah drink wib meee.”

- You ignore God’s offer for a drink and cut right to the chase. “No, your kids are NOT fine! When was the last time you checked in on them?! Do you even know what they’re up to right now??!” God dismissively waves his hand and chugs more wine. “I juzzt checked on thhhem ah couple decades aghooo..They’rrre prohably makinnn neeewh liffe.”

- “God that is a load of shit, and you know it! I was JUST down in Heaven, and the seraphim told me that you haven’t seen or spoken to ANY of them since I left to take my nap eons ago! And furthermore, while you’ve been in here drinking the day away, your children have COMPLETELY destroyed the balance we created! They’ve been mass slaughtering Demons annually for millennia now, and Limbo is a complete disaster right now because of this!” Hearing this, God looks down at his bottle of whine, embarrassed, and mumbles an awkward “oh”.

- Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before God clears his throat and says. “Zzsooo…You’rrree NNOT gooing to drink wiff me?” At this you snap and snatch the wine bottle from God and chuck it at the TV, smashing the bottle and the TV. God shouts in anger but before he can ask you wtf that was for, you just lay into him. Calling him a deadbeat and pathetic excuse of a deity.

- “How can you just sit in here day after day, while your CHILDREN are out there causing such mayhem! Do you not love your children all??!” God is shouting back at you, his anger having sobered him up some so he’s not slurring as much. “How DARE you accuse me of not loving my children! I would giive ANYTHING for them and you know that!”

- “Then fucking ACT like it!! Don’t just sit in here and rot your mind with booze and TV!” God growls. “I don’t need you to tell meee how to handle my children! Why do you even care?! It’zzz not like they’re yours anyway!”

- “I care because they are part of MY family, and I want my family to be safe and happy, something that you couldn’t give less of a shit about apparently!” God throws his hands up at this point “Well what do you want from me Death, go hhhold their handz?! My children are ALL capable of thinking and being on their own, they don’t NEED me to do shit for them!”

- “That doesn’t mean that they don’t still need you there emotionally! But with the way you act maybe it’s best you ARE never there! After all, what use could any of them get from your pathetic drunk ass!!” This clearly struck a nerve as God points back at the door you came in through and roars at you to get the fuck out of his house. Growling, you give a harsh “Fine!” and tell him he can sit and be a drunk deadbeat all he wants because you’re done with him and his shit, and he’s NEVER to contact you again unless it’s in regards to his children or business.

- You stomp out of God’s palace and return to Limbo, wanting to start working on getting things cleaned up and cool off some before you go check on things in Hell.

- Once you’re gone though, God slumps his shoulders and hangs his head. With your venomous words echoing his head, he summons another bottle of wine and begins chugging it while he trudges into his bedchambers.

- He flops down onto the bed and picks up a framed photo and slowly brings it closer to his face. It’s an old photo, one taken shortly after God created the first few seraphim. You and God are both standing next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders and leaning in close while the first seraphim all stand in between the two of you. Everyone is absolutely beaming, and God looks especially happy; so proud of his creations.

- Tears drop onto the photo as God remembers how things used to be back then, back when he was actually NEEDED by those around him and wasn’t just some brand figure who’s only job is to smile and wave. Even as he slowly sets the photo down, tears continue to fall and he holds his head in his hands. “…I’m sorry I’m so damn useless…Hopefully you’ll forgive me someday…Not that I deserve it though…I’m…so fucking sorry…” No one is there to hear God’s sobs, and eventually he passes out. He’d rather be dreaming of happier times anyway.

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Cover Project #13—Michael Zulli

This weekend, I’m going to post artworks commissioned via "The Sandman Cover Project": What would the covers have looked like if created by the issue artists instead of Dave McKean?

I will gradually add all illustrations via the tag “Sandman Cover Project”.

We’re starting off with Zulli (and without giving too much away, we’ll finish with him as well)…

[del-stars]

listen, listen, listen. love regulus but we have got to stop fooling ourselves here. he did not really accomplish anything and actually made everything much harder for harry