#he’s just a nothing character and they’ve never once made me care about him in any meaningful way

[iinryer]

HELLO I also started watching Lone Star partially because of ur Marjan and Nancy art, i'm only at the beginning of season 3 right now and Marjan is definitely my favorite character. I wanted to know if Owen does some specific awful stuff that makes him so disliked? I find him a Bit amusing at most currently but mostly just very. dull? Like he's a laminated sheet of paper at most. And also i literally forget TK is his canonical son because he doesn't feel very fatherly. so I don't particularly feel much towards him, but wanted to know if i should brace myself for something terrible in specific later? LOVE YOUR ART TO DEATH BTW WHENEVER YOU SORT OUT PRINTS IM GONNA BE BUYING SOMETHING FOR SURE 😤

GOT ANOTHER ONE!!!! this is incredible im so delighted. marjaaaaaaaan….

personally i find him most tolerable in season 1-2, but even then i just think he’s one of the least interesting characters and YET he gets 70% of the screentime in any given episode—which bothers me sooooo much. a lot of his plots are really insufferable and we have to spend so much time on them, meanwhile they have one of the most interesting cast of characters I’ve literally ever seen, and none of them get any real arcs. imo it’s just frustrating as a viewer that i desperately want to know more about the muslim firefighter who wears a hijab or the black trans firefighter or the latino probie who cares a lot but was never given a shot bc of his dyslexia. ALL OF THOSE ARE SUCH COOL CHARACTER PREMISES! but no, we have to hear about 9/11 from owen again….

idk most of my ire comes from the fact that he Does have a cool dynamic with his son, and it Is a really neat setup for a story, but nearly all of owen’s plots are completely disconnected from literally everyone else on the show. i could surgically remove every owen-solo scene and i would still understand pretty much everything going on in any given episode, and it would be a quarter of the length. it’s bad writing! and really annoying to shelve such a diverse cast for rob lowe of all people.

tbh if everyone had the same amount of screentime i would probably hate him less? but it sucks that he takes up so much of what should be SUCH a stellar show. i could talk abt this forever gjfjdhfhf

(THANK YOUUU!!)

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 5 of Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

Word Count: 9.8 k

Warnings: light mentions of smut (nothing explicit), pining, mutual pining, heavy angst, forcing a decision

Captain Price bristles at the private’s words, taken aback by this impromptu revelation, but he hides it all behind his usual stone cold stare. A gruff exhale exits his lips as he runs his fingertips over the perimeter of his mustache. “Don’t care ‘bout what happens on off hours,” he says full of contempt at being dragged into this bullshit. “It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours either, so best just drop it private.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; the captain is supposed to march over to the lieutenant’s quarters and break up your little lovefest right this second at hearing his confession. At least that was what the private was hoping for when he decided to make this visit. He needs something more. 

“But sir,” he says more exasperatedly, “it isn’t just after hours. The first time I caught them, the lieutenant and sergeant were going at it in the munitions depot when I walked in; you remember that day you sent me to fetch Lt. Riley. They’ve even been engaging in activities in the field as well. During our mission they neglected their watch duties to screw around like some fucking teenagers. Is that what you call acceptable, sir? Is this how you run your operations?”

Goddammit, now it is Price’s problem. Messing around when off duty or on leave is one thing that can be easily overlooked as you are both adults who are engaging in activities with consent, but risking it all when out in the field is another matter altogether. There are protocols and you are supposed to be professionals. And if this bit of information gets out it could have dire consequences for the validity of this task force. 

“Maybe I should bring my concerns up to someone higher,” the private mutters in the silence that follows as Price mulls over everything in his mind. 

“What did ya say?” the captain fires back as he rejoins the conversation, his firm glare boring holes into the private.

Immediately the young man regrets having uttered it aloud, but there’s no going back now. “I just… I-if I need to, I-I will have to go above you, sir,” he stammers out as he tries to maintain his resolve.

Fuck, this is bad.

Price sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving the private even though he tries to divert his gaze; each time he brings it back Price is ready to meet it head on. “You will leave this be private,” Price threatens, his voice firm. “This is not under your jurisdiction, nor is it in your ability to decide who needs discipline in these matters. I will take care of it as I see fit; I am the one in charge, not you. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I should at least get to know that you are going to do…” the private tries to argue some more, but the captain is having none of it.

“You’re dismissed,” Price barks as he points a steady hand towards the door.

“But sir…” he tries to protest again and again he is cut off. 

“I said, dismissed private, or would you rather I start my disciplining with you,” Price says unyieldingly, staring him down with a glare that means he is seriously done with this conversation and with being disrespected. 

Quickly the private gets up from his seat with a furrow-browed nod and a rushed, pointed ‘yes, sir,’ that he mutters through his gritted teeth before he turns on his heels and stalks to the door to fling it open and stomp off into the night, leaving Price alone in his office once more as he slams it behind him. 

With the immediate quiet that follows, all Price can think about is what the private has revealed to him. To have the highly trained professional that is Simon Riley abandon everything to mess around with anyone during a mission is unheard of, but it being you makes this even more complicated. This is territory he has no prior knowledge on; something big must be happening for everything to be turned on its head and he doesn’t know what the fuck he is going to do about it all.

Though he knows he cannot just let this go. At least he has the weekend to think it all over, but he knows come Monday he is going to have to act or risk too much because that private is not going to let this go, that much is clear.

The captain decides that that is enough for the night and packs it up to head out. As he leaves out and turns to get back to his own quarters, his eyes linger over to where a specific officer is housed. “What the fuck have ya done Simon?” Price questions aloud to himself as he steps off into the darkness with much weighing on his mind, pondering the next steps of what actions must now be taken.

Back in the lieutenant’s room, hours pass in the blissfully exhaustive ecstasy produced from your union. Both of you slumber on peacefully, wrapped in one another, entirely unaware of anything outside the confines of the mattress until something unfamiliar makes Simon stir awake.

Intaking a full, deep breath, he fills his lungs with a flood of air as he comes back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in a mild panic from movement at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that it is you rolling back over to face him that has caught him off-guard; he forgot that you would still be in his bed. Mystery solved, he calmly settles back down into his pillow and watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, admiring how tranquil you look as your dark eyelashes rest delicately against your cheeks.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s slept beside anyone; he’d almost forgotten how comforting it can be to have another laying beside you. A weak smile spreads across his lips as careful fingers reach over to the side of your head so that he can tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

God, you’re beautiful just like this. How did he get so god damn lucky to have something so pure sleeping soundly next to him? You let out a whispered sigh and suddenly he is caught up in a whirlwind of feelings that have been in hibernation for years as his fingertips linger delicately against the soft flesh of your cheek a moment more. He wishes he could kick himself for not trying to get closer to you sooner, if only to have you here lying next to him as if it has always been this way.  

Those copper eyes drift to the plain black and white standard government issue clock tacked to the wall. It’s nearly five in the morning; still too early to be conscious just yet, but once he’s up there’s no going back down. He takes a few more minutes to silently appreciate your sleeping form by capturing the image of you like a polaroid in his mind and then decides to just let you sleep until the last minute before he wakes you up to send you safely on your way.

Who said you needed to rush off anyway? 

As carefully as all 6’4” of him can, he eases his way out of the bed and creeps bare-arsed to the en suite bathroom so that he can grab a quick shower, though he’d like nothing more than to keep the scent of you on him a little longer. It won’t do him any favors to go around base today with the fragrance of sex covering him like a beacon to draw people’s unwanted attention.

Cautiously he eases the bathroom door to where it is slightly ajar, not risking shutting it since he knows how bad the damned thing squeaks, and only then does he flick on the fluorescent lights to illuminate the space. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the harsh brilliance, he opens them and immediately catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that faces the door.   

Even though he still carries the signs of sleep in his distinct features, he can already tell that he is different somehow and he walks closer to his reflection to get a better look. Everything is exactly where it should be, but his eyes seem brighter, more full of life… as if he is happier than he has been in recent memory. He stares back into them as if he is looking at a different person, a reunion with an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.  

And he doesn’t know what to think. It is a gift from you, after all…though you don’t even know you’ve given it to him yet.

Simon shakes his head and chuckles to himself, not fully ready to accept this drastic change to his appearance just yet, as he pulls from the mirror and walks the few steps to the shower to get it going. The pipes running to the showerhead squeak to life as run for a few seconds when without warning he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as a warm, naked chest presses into his back. It momentarily takes him by surprise as he is still getting used to having someone around, but he eventually settles into your embrace. 

“Was tryin’ not to wake ya yet,” he mutters as he runs his hand over yours that is against his stomach.

“Heard the shower kick on,” you murmur sleepily into his shoulder as you place your lips to the smooth skin near his shoulder blade, “thought I could do with getting clean myself, so I wanted to join you.”

It isn’t a total lie, you do need to wash up after the mess from the night before, though you wish you could be honest and say that you just wanted to be close while you still can. You know you are going to have to leave soon if you want to make it back to your quarters without detection, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that looms like a gray cloud at the back of your mind that you will have to part ways. 

Simon holds your palms pressed rigid and flat against his abdominals so you can’t let go as he leans in to check the temperature of the water with his free hand. The heated liquid rains down onto his palm perfectly warm, but not too hot, and being satisfied he pulls you both inside the cozy oasis. 

He moves you in front of him so that your back is directly under the shower head, letting the heated water run through the length of your hair and down the curves of your bare back to keep you warm. It feels like you’re still in a dream the way the steam rises around your bodies in the tight space, the condensation clinging to your skin like a warm blanket. Maybe you are still asleep in his bed, you feel barely awake as it is, and if that’s the case you hope you don’t wake up cause you don’t want to leave the fantasy just yet. 

The soothing water lulls you into a drowsy calm as Simon holds you close against him while he naturally rocks you both back and forth with slow, easy movements as he gently tries to help you wake up. He cannot help admiring the flush in your face brought on by the heat or the way the droplets trickle over your soft, delicate skin. Reaching out, his hand connects with your cheek as he strokes his coarse thumb over your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth before dragging it heavily over your bottom lip until he has them parted. 

“I swear you’re a fuckin’ dream, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hand on your face brings it in towards his so that he can gently connects your lips. 

Memories of confessions from the night before spring back to the surface, admissions of possession that he doesn’t want to take back even though that mind-numbing haze from being inside you is gone. You can hear him sigh heavily as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

If only he could wake up like this every day. Could that even be a possibility for someone like him? Inside the steam-filled oasis that cloaks you both from reality, he allows himself to fantasize just a little. Maybe…maybe…

Simon lets you go only to grab the soap from its place sitting on the edge of the tub, ready to clean up the mess he made. Taking care of someone other than himself is an oddly comforting sensation to him and even though you try to protest that he doesn’t have to, he still takes the time to wash you down anyway before tending to himself. 

He leaves you inside the shower to finish up as he steps out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel securely around his hips, making sure to leave a towel for you as well before he heads to the mirror. His rigorous actions between your legs last night left a rather rough patch against your thigh that he caught sight of in the shower and checking his face in the foggy bit of glass above the sink, Simon decides it’s about time to shave.

…cause he is definitely going to get between those legs again soon. 

A bag of random toiletries lies at the edge of the sink and he rummages around in it until he locates his razor. He steps up to the counter and turns on the sink just as the creak from the shower handle rings out and the water is shut off. From the mirror he can see you step out and wrap the towel he’s set out for you around your chest. 

You ring out your hair behind you before you move to his side and turn to rest your butt against the edge of the countertop. Looking down, you spy the shaving instrument in his hand.

“Gettin’ rid of it?” you ask with a hint of disappointment as you reach up and run your fingertips over his jaw. The steam from the shower has already softened the hairs so they don’t prickle roughly against your touch as you outline his face.

Suddenly he can’t find his voice; every single time you touch him it’s like the first time all over again and it makes his head spin. Clearing his throat he looks down at you. “It’s a bit too rough, innit?” he says, tapping at your thigh with the abrasion on it. “Don’t wanna hurt ya again.”

Why did it sound more deep a sentiment than it should have been? A lump wells in your throat as you realize he is doing this for you and you alone; it’s just a shave, but to have him care about your wellbeing is very special to you. Especially after the confessions from the night before; clearly he has meant it: you belong to him now.

“Well, if you must…but, I wonder. Can I?” you ask with a smile as you reach for the blade in his hand.

Simon pauses before giving it up to you. This is a new one for him and he is a little unsure, but curious enough to see where it leads. You move your body between him and the counter so that you can hop up and sit yourself in front of him. Opening your legs, you pull him in close.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you ask barely above a whisper as you situate him in the middle of your legs. 

More than anyone, he thinks to himself as he silently stares back into your eyes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, he just drops his hands by his sides and tilts his jaw up.

Your ankles link behind the small of his back as your hand grasps his chin to keep his head steady so you can place the razorblade to his cheek. The sharp edge of the blade pushes into his skin and is dragged slowly down the line of his face until it reaches your hand where you pick it up to move on to the next section. It’s like an intimate dance, the risk of it all as the blade continues to pass over his skin, but you skill keeping him safe from cuts, making his heart race so you can feel his pulse under your fingertips.

“Just hold still,” you say as you feel the sensation of his hands moving up your bare thighs, running up towards your hips that have peeked out through the slit in the towel. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ya won’t,” he says in that gruff tone without hesitation and you can feel the warmth rise in your face. 

There is steam still lingering in the air from the shower; it is fogging the mirror and adds a filmy haze to the atmosphere. The aroma of his soap is strong between your bodies, both of you coated in his usual plain, clean scent. It’s nice just being here like this with him. 

Another pass of the blade and more of that thick stubble comes right off under your careful hand. You move the blade over to the sink to rinse it again and that’s when you feel it, a stabbing against your thigh from within the confines of his towel. His damp, hair-covered chest rubs against your forearms as he moves in even tighter to you.

“Like the way ya look, all serious like when you’re workin’ hard at somethin’,” he says in a breathy whisper as you finish another swipe of the razorblade across his jaw. “Didn’t know how good you’d be with a sharp object in your hand.”

“Well, if you keep moving I might not be so precise. I’m almost done,” you scold him, but Simon isn’t deterred just because you have something sharp in your hand. He has something just as deadly prodding into you too.

His strong fingertips jab themselves into your hips, stabbing into the meat hard through the towel as he presses himself into you and suddenly it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath. He hums deep in his chest, a low, guttural sound that makes your clit throb as those long fingers of his twirl the loose, wet strands of your hair between them.

“I’ll give ya ‘bout another minute to get it done,” he says as his gaze lingers longingly on your mouth. “That’s all I can wait.” 

Suddenly the room isn’t the only thing that is obscured in a haze; your mind is misfiring terribly now as you hurry to finish the job while also being sure you don’t miss any spots. You rinse the blade for the last time and quickly check him over, flashing him a satisfied smile at your handiwork. 

“I thought we just got clean for the day?” you ask as he takes the blade from your hand and sets it on the countertop beside you.  

He doesn’t answer the question with words, instead letting his mouth do something else to convey his thoughts. His kiss is softer now with the missing stubble, though just as passionate as it always is and it takes your breath away. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good, cause I don’t plan on stoppin’ anytime soon, sweetheart,” he groans as his fingers reach up to your chest to find the edge of the towel; with one small tug he has it undone. It drops down around the sink as he leans in more aggressively to capture your mouth.  

There’s still enough time for another shower, right? Fuck, at this point he’ll make time.

Dawn is just beginning to break its first soft light over the base as you step out of the shower for the second time and hurriedly get dressed. Simon meets you at the door with a knot in the pit of his stomach; time’s up whether he is ready or not and if you want to make it back undetected it has to be now.

“Got plans later tonight?” he asks as he pulls you to him one last time.

You look up into his face and shake your head. “Not that I know of. Gonna be a light day today. Why?”

Simon pins you against him with his arm around your waist as he tilts his head down to kiss your lips. “Just thinkin’ ya might want ta be in later,” he says, giving one last peck before he opens the door and you immediately take off in the direction of your personal quarters.

He keeps his eyes on you till you’re out of sight, trying to wipe away the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door.

The rest of the day is spent in a blur, punctuated by the few times you just happened to catch a glimpse of Simon through the days as you go about. Your mind constantly wanders back to what he meant by you might want to stay in later, so when Soap asks if you’re gonna come hang in the rec with them for a bit of Saturday fun, you decline and stay put in your room instead.   

It’s a little after 9 o’clock when there is a heavy knock on your door, loud raps that echo through the room and make you put away the book you are failing to distract yourself with under your bed. You hop off the mattress, your heart fluttering in your chest. Making it to the door and pulling it open you immediately come face to face with the person leaning against your door frame: Simon. 

“Ya gonna let me in, luv?” he asks. “Or ya just gonna fuckin’ leave me out ‘ere all night?”

You cross your arms and furrow your brow as if you are agitated, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before you are breaking character. “Couldn’t stay away for one night, could you?” you pick back.

There is a visible smirk beneath the thin fabric of his lightweight balaclava. “ ‘S part a my routine,” he says as you grab his hand and drag him inside. “Too used to it now.” 

“Well far be it from me to stop you,” you say with a smile as you shut the door and bolt it behind you both while Simon quickly rips off the mask and pulls you into a kiss. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Maybe I like you around,” you say back.

Maybe I like bein’ around, he thinks as he kisses you back harder as you lead him over to your bed. 

Sunday evening is spent in the same vein except with you both switching off again so that you are the one to come over to his to spend your evening together. Cause he is right, this arrangement has become routine now and your day just doesn’t feel complete without seeing him. Unfortunately though, it being Sunday you both decide to call it earlier as your duties will call you to work early in the morning.

One lingering goodbye later and Simon is once again watching you walk away, secretly making a wish that maybe you’ll get the chance soon to spend more time together when something breaks him out of his thoughts. As he shuts the door behind you, suddenly he can hear a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere near his bed. He knows that sound; it’s his cellphone. It’s late and he never gets a call at this time, so quickly he grabs it up off the nightstand near the bed and as soon as he is able to get a look at the screen, his heart sinks into the floor: Price is the one that is calling. 

He picks it up. “Yes, sir,” he answers in his usual stern tone.

There is a pause over the line before the captain speaks. “Lieutenant,” Price says, “I apologize for calling, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in my office tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. There are some things we urgently need to discuss.”

This strikes Simon as odd; never has the captain called him this late to inform him of a meeting the next day, so why would he be doing it now? Something feels off about it all and though he has no information other than that his presence is needed, there is something in Price’s tone that has his blood running cold. 

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asks, keeping his voice metered as his heart begins to race. 

Price sighs. “I would rather wait till the mornin’ to talk further as this is something that needs to be discussed in person.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon agrees.  

“That is all lieutenant, enjoy the rest of your evening,” the captain says in a rush and with that the line goes dead, leaving Simon confused and slightly worried.

Time seems to drag on endlessly as anxiety keeps him up the entire night tossing and turning as he stares into the ceiling. He thinks about texting you just to see if you’re up, but he talks himself out of it. His needless worries shouldn’t bother you, even though he knows you’d answer him in a heartbeat. No, he just needs to get through the night and then in the morning everything will be settled; it’s going to be fine.

An hour before he is supposed to meet the captain and Simon is already up and dressed; his office is less than a ten minute walk from Simon’s, but he wants to be early. It’s better to just get this over with so he can enjoy the rest of his day and make plans to see you later. With twenty minutes still to go he heads out and makes his way across the base. 

With a knock on the door, he waits until Price looks up before entering the office. 

“Early as usual,” the captain greets him.

“Better than late,” he says, before nodding back behind him. “Ya want me to shut the door?” 

“Not yet,” Price says and Simon leaves the doorway to take his seat in one of the chairs facing the large, wooden desk.

He’s sitting for just a few minutes before Price’s eyes dart up to the door and he can feel the shadow of another person standing there. “Ah, yes, come in and shut the door. Now that you are both here, we can get started,” he hears the captain say as he turns his head to see who it is that has arrived; he had been under the impression that this was a solo meeting this whole time.

Suddenly his heart stops as the person comes into his line of sight. It’s you, the blood draining from your face as you see him sitting there. It’s clear you have been caught off-guard by this as much as he has. The atmosphere becomes tense and strained as you take a seat next to Simon. Captain Price sits tall with authority as he stares back at the pair of you, a grave look in his gaze. 

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?” Price asks, looking first at you, then the lieutenant.

Neither of you feel keen enough to say anything, but you finally speak up first, if only to break the anxiety bubbling under your moderately calm surface. “No, sir.”

Price takes a hesitant breath. “I have been informed over the weekend about you both engaging in acts of misconduct,” he says firmly. “You’ve been seen cavorting with one another on several occasions. Now, there are things that can be overlooked and if it were up to me I woulda simply turned a blind eye and pretended to know anything, but it has been brought to light that these ‘activities’ were done while out in the field on your latest mission. Is this true?” 

The hair on Simon’s arms is standing on end and he feels like he is about to be sick, the bile violently churning in his stomach as his worst fear is realized. Instantly he feels guilty and begins to blame himself; this is all his fault. After all, he was the one to break protocol back at the safehouse. His careless actions have caught up to you both and now you will have to face the consequences.

Price turns his attention to you as there is no hiding the guilt on your face like Simon can behind his mask and though neither of you have spoken yet to confirm, there is no need. Your body language mixed with his lieutenant’s silence alone tells him that the accusations that were made are indeed true.  

“You both understand that this is out of my hands,” Price emphasizes the point. “If this reaches anywhere outside this base my authority will be brought into question and this operation cannot afford that. Not to mention that I risk the possibility of losing either one or both of you if things escalate. What the hell were you thinkin’, doin’ that while deployed?”

The lieutenant doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that will make this all go away. The problem is that he wasn’t thinking; all he knew was that for the first time in a long while he wanted something so bad that the consequences didn’t matter in that moment. Now he has to pay for them and unfortunately that means you do as well…and that is what is breaking his heart. 

He has dragged you into hell with him.

“You both have crossed a line that I can’t pull you back from,” Price continues with a defeated exhale. In all honesty, he wants nothing more than to let this go, but there are too many variables at stake. “The one who reported this is threatening to take this up the ladder as far as they need if I do nothing. My hands are tied on the matter.”

“Sir, if you’ll let me explain, perhaps we can come to an agreement…” you try to reason with your captain, but that is not how this will go.

Price can hear the tremble in your voice and he knows he’s struck a chord. The look he gives you is one full of remorse. “But in the end we’re all adults here and that means ya have a say in what happens to yourselves. If you want to request a transfer or, hell, apply for a discharge, I can’t stop you; that is a decision you have a right to make.”

The wind feels like it has been knocked from Simon’s lungs and though he can see Price talking, his mind will not allow him to fully comprehend what is being said. 

Amidst the stunned hush that has fallen over the room, Price slowly pushes his chair out from the desk and makes his way to stand. “I know I’ve sprung this on you both without so much as a warning, so I’ll give you some time alone to make your decisions. Otherwise, I will have to make them for you and that is something I want to avoid.”

With that he steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and thrusting you both into an uncomfortably tense stillness. It lingers for far too long as Simon battles internally with what to do, struggling to accept that his happiness has imploded as it always does, but one thing he keeps coming back to is the fact that no matter what, you will be forced to separate if one or both of you decide to stay in this line of work.  

The taskforce means everything to you just as it does him and this is so much bigger than simply exploring the depths of a crush. This is your entire life, all the blood, sweat, and effort you’ve both put in to be here; it’s all you’ve worked so hard for. It is all you both have ever known. 

Can you really give that all up? It’s too soon to be having this type of life-altering conversation.

Out of the turmoil in his mind, he hears you calling his name. “Simon? Hey,” you call out to him again to get his attention; it feels like he is a million miles away even though he is still sitting right beside you. 

He can’t bear to look you in the face and keeps his eyes locked on his shoes; his gaze is so avoidant that it is painful, especially after how close you both have become. Still, you try your hardest to lighten the mood even through the ache making your chest tight. 

“Not the best way to start the morning,” you chuckle uncomfortably. 

More silence follows, more agony. He’s going to have to say something at some point and when he does it’s all going to come crashing down. As long as he is quiet he can suspend the moment for as long as possible. 

“Listen,” you say, “I know this sounds bad, but we can figure it out. I mean, I don’t have a problem with requesting the transfer if I have to.”

That’s the last thing he wants; you can’t leave. If you leave it will kill him. “Sweetheart… don’t…” Simon speaks up for the first time since you entered the office and it sounds like he’s being tortured. 

“Would a transfer really be so bad? Who knows? It could just be for a short while until everything cools off,” you remark, still hopeful, but he simply shakes his head.

Simon pauses. “No, ya can’t do that,” he says and you can feel a lump forming in the base of your throat that makes you almost gag.

“Isn’t it my decision? Don’t I get a say in what I do?” you push.

Another drawn out pause. “Ya don’t wanna do that, I know ya don’t.”

“Don’t speak for me,” you say harshly as you know where this is headed and you can’t stand even the thought of it. “I can choose to do what I want.”

“I can’t let ya do that,” he denies you again, his words firm. “I can’t let ya fuckin’ give up everythin’ for me, no matter how much I may want it. Ya forget I read your personnel file when ya arrived, I know ya worked your ass off ta get ‘ere. You made it all the way ta sergeant by the sweat of your brow. Don’t fuckin’ throw it all away jus’ for somethin’ so new.”

More pauses. Why is there so much silence present now? It hurts to have all that quiet be filled with sadness where it was only comfort before. 

“So, this is it then?” Your heart is shattering into pieces, you can physically feel it crumble as you suffocate on the sadness. When did this get so god damn complicated?

Simon bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste copper. “I don’t know what else ta fuckin’ do…” he says quietly. “This is all so sudden, I don’t ‘ave a plan. I just know ya can’t leave and I need more time.”

He’s not as quick to act on this as you are and you can’t fault him for that. In all honesty he isn’t wrong; this is all happening so fast that it’s overwhelming and nothing really feels like the right decision. So, even though it pains you to concede to his argument, you do and the heartbreak wins. Yet you cling on to the hope that maybe there is a way out of this. He did not say outright that he is completely done, only that he needs time to think. 

You can give him time, right?

“Please, Simon, just look at me.”

Those brown eyes drift up to meet yours and the agony of this whole fucked up situation is written in his gaze. This is supposed to be something wonderful, not something that has casualties, and he is being ripped apart by duty and what he wants most. He wants to scream, beat his fists, break anything, but it won’t do any good; he is like a man cursed…somehow this was always going to happen.

“ ’m sorry,” he says and a heavy bit of silence follows as you sit there just looking at one another. 

Overcome with emotion, you swallow hard. “I know,” you retort as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know.”

Simon slides his long fingers in between the spaces in yours and holds on so tight to your hand it’s almost painful. Irrationally he thinks that maybe if he squeezes hard enough not even fate can take you from him, but that isn’t the case. There is no stopping what has to happen and though you both can prolong the moment, you can’t stop time. 

Releasing his grasp, he lets you go and all at once you feel like you’re drowning. He leaves your side only for a moment to reopen the door as a sign that a decision has been made. Several more excruciating minutes pass, but eventually Price reenters the office and again takes his seat. There is a gloom that sits in the room now like a fog and he knows without even having to ask that a decision has been reached and it is one that clearly was not reached happily.

“It’s over, sir,” Lt. Riley confirms with the short response; any more than that and he may fall apart.

Price nods in acknowledgement. “In that case, I think it best to send ya both out on separate missions very soon. It’ll show that action has been taken in case anything else comes from the allegations. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter; I know it could not have been easy.”

You nod back firmly in agreement and Lt. Riley does the same. 

Price quickly dismisses you both and you immediately bolt up from your seat to make it to the door in a flurry of quick steps, too overwhelmed by your emotions to sit still another second more beside the one thing you can no longer have. You can’t seem to catch your breath and even though you make it outside of the stifling atmosphere inside the office, it does not lessen. 

Your feet carry you forward to where you have no clue; there is no rational thought left with you right now. All you know is that you need to put distance between everything and everyone that you can before you shatter because it hurts like you are being torn in half from the inside and if you are going to rupture you want to do it where no one can see.

But grief is a volatile and disastrous thing; it consumes and destroys and confuses. Right now, your mind is scrambling to feel something other than the pain of your loss, any other emotion it can experience that won’t murder it and it settles on the emotion that is the opposite side of grief: anger.

Halfway across the site you spot that familiar mohawked head near the mess hall and a rage builds in you. You and Simon had speculated before about Johnny’s knowledge of your situation, what if he was the one that told Price? Intentional or not, what if he is the reason all this is destroyed? There is not a shred of proof, but your brain is desperate to find someone to blame, anyone to throw all your anger on and that just happens to be him. Before you can stop yourself, you are already bounding his way. 

Johny looks up as you come within earshot, turning his back to the building. “Hey, stranger, ‘aven’t seen ye ‘round much this weekend. Wonder why that is?” he says with a knowing smirk, but it drops from his face as he sees the look on yours. 

Without warning you grab Johnny by the collar and manhandle him until you are able to haul him forward and slam into the wall behind him, knocking the wind from his lungs as you crush him up against the concrete. “Was it you?” you spat the question with fury into his face. “Tell me now or so help me God…”

“What the fuckin’ hell are ye talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks back as he struggles under your tight grip around his collar. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Blinded by rage, you pull him back only to shove him harder into the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, the venom in your voice full of acid. “Were you the one that ran like a bitch to tattle on me to Price? You better have a fucking good reason why.”

Johnny pauses and stops struggling against your grip, confused. “Wait, what?” he asks. “Someone’s gone te Price ‘bout somethin’? Ye gotta explain everythin’ cause I don’t get it; seriously, what’s this about?”

The tone of his voice causes you to really discern the look in his eyes: he is genuinely confused by your statement. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” you question.

He shakes his head. “No and I’m bein’ serious.”

In the time you’ve known him, Johnny has always been straight with you and you do genuinely trust him to tell you the truth. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but honesty is always something that you have shared. If he says he doesn’t know, he must really not know.

“Tell me, what’s happened?” he asks, his brows drawn together as he stares back at you with serious concern. 

You choke back the emotion gathered in your throat as your eyes sting. No sense in hiding anything; he’d probably find out eventually anyway if gossip gets around. Besides, keeping this inside makes you feel like you’re rotting. “Price knows about what me and the lieutenant have been doing in secret and what we did while we were on our last mission,” you admit as you hang your head. 

Johnny is silent for a moment. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he says with a chuckle, which he immediately regrets as you pop your head up to give him a heated glare. “No, I… look, jus’ listen ta me for a moment.”

Releasing him from your grasp you take a step back, the anger subsiding to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. Tears burn around the rims of your eyes at how lost you feel and how easily you are flying off the handle; it makes you worried. How are you meant to control this? How are you meant to survive?

Johnny straightens himself up and continues. “Yes, I knew ‘bout ye and the lieutenant…cause I was the one that orchestrated the whole setup. I seen tha way ye two kept eyein’ each other an’ I decided that ye both needed a push in tha right direction. Why the hell would I get ye together only ta get ye in trouble with Price?” 

You divert your gaze again. “Well, it’s all over now,” you can barely say aloud; just hearing yourself speak it into existence feels like being stabbed in the chest. “Whoever ratted us out is threatening to go above Price’s head if they need to. There’s nothing left for us to do, but end it or shit’s gonna get worse. It’s already done.”

Fuck, you can’t hold back for much longer and the last thing you need is to cry, but a pair of strong hands clasp around your shoulders to bring you back from the brink of your sadness. 

“Look,” Johnny tries to reassure as he is genuinely worried about your wellbeing. “I’ll figure out who it was that stuck their bloody nose in it, alright? Jus’ leave it ta me; I’ll get ye a name and hell, I’ll help ye gut the bastard if ye need. We’ll figure it out, honest.”

Somehow you don’t think anything will come of it, but at least it is something. Right now hope is a drug you have to take just to get through.

Days pass the same way with little variation in your mood. You try to stay as busy as you possibly can, filling your schedule to the brim with as much work as Price can give you. He doesn’t mention it, but everything he assigns you seems to keep you from even crossing paths with your former lover and for that you are grateful. Then a few days become a week and a week becomes two, but time does nothing to stop the ache in your chest and at the end of each day, when you return to your room and the quiet hits you, it’s impossible not to shed a few tears into your pillow as you pine for the company you once had. 

Thankfully mission assignments finally go out and you can spend your time consumed in preparation to depart to fill the void that settles in your chest. It’s a couple of days before you are meant to leave and information makes its way through the grapevine that Lt. Riley is headed out tonight with his team and god if it doesn’t kill you not even to get the chance to say goodbye.

You can’t even finish your lunch today; you are so upset by the news that you quickly toss your food into the trash and head out. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you don’t even hear Johnny calling to you until he has caught up to you outside of the mess hall and is grabbing your elbow to drag you alongside him. Where are you going? You have no clue.   

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, not up for whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull today. 

“Jus’ keep walkin’,” he says, his head constantly on a swivel as if he is looking for something. You try to protest, but it gets you nowhere as he keeps booking it across the base with you in hand until you both reach the munitions depot where he finally comes to a stop and lets you go. 

You look up at the building. “Why are we here?”

“Keep yer head and jus’ go inside,” Johnny says as he gives you a shove towards the door. “Ye only got a couple minutes, so ‘urry the hell up.”

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? You really aren’t in the mood for his shit, but you also don’t have the energy in you to fight him on it; you let out a weighted huff and grab the handle, pulling it hard so that the door swings open and you head inside. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?” you question yourself.

There is movement and you hear the sound of boot steps. “That would be me,” a gravelly voice sounds at your side, making you jump.  

You are thrown into respiratory distress as you turn around where you’re greeted with that familiar mask and its wearer is just standing within reach. “Simon,” you breathe his name like a prayer, forgetting decorum.

“Wrangled Mactavish inta helpin’ me, said he’d bring ya and guard the door,” Lt. Riley says as he stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I-” he sighs, “I had ta see ya ‘fore I leave.” 

Suddenly the room is spinning and you can’t figure out which way is up. After the agonizing chasm of space that has been put between you it is disorienting to be this close again and you aren’t sure what to do. Do you run into his arms? Do you keep your distance?

It doesn’t make sense.

“I know I shouldn’t have brought ya ‘ere like this,” he says, “but I…missed ya.” He pauses and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose through the mask. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’. I’m supposed ta follow orders no questions asked, but…” 

Standing there, waiting on bated breath, you stare back at him with those big doe eyes until you are able to speak and break the silence. “But what?”

More silence follows your question as he steps closer and closer and closer. Then he stops and there are only inches between your bodies. He reaches out his hand and the backs of his gloved fingers brush against your own with a touch so delicate it doesn’t seem humanly possible, most of all from someone like the lieutenant. 

“Priorities are changin’,” he admits as he takes your hand into his grasp hesitantly, eyes unable to look anywhere but at the connection as if he isn’t sure if he should touch you at all. “I never experienced somethin’ like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to do.” 

“Are you saying you want to go against Price?” 

His sight lingers on your conjoined hands as his jaw shifts under the mask, struggling to find the words. As he clears his throat, his gaze finally draws back to your face to meet your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can read the sentiment in his gaze: he is being tortured by being forced to choose between his duty to this task force and what he wants above all else. 

“Listen, yeah? As long as we follow orders, we get ta stay near each other. Fight it and who knows what the fuck’ll happen. I…” he pauses, the pain of confession hard to stand, “I don’t know if I can risk not bein’ able to see ya at all, sweetheart. Even just a glimpse cross the way.”

“You think that is better than one of us leaving?” you want to ask, but the question dies on your tongue and in its place is only a bitter taste in your mouth. 

You know if you say anything at all it’s only going to make it harder- for the both of you. You are just two soldiers bound by a need to do what is right and nothing is going to change that. Fuck do you want to scream, to rage at what you are being strong-armed into doing against your will, yet your exterior stays a calm mask against the storm inside. The situation puts you between a rock and a hard place and though you don’t want to admit it he is ultimately right; if all you get is to have nothing or what you had before all this mess started, then you would choose the latter.

At least you can still be around one another; at least you can still see him. Even if every time you do it is going to shatter your heart all over again.

Lt. Riley feels like he is being ripped apart as he catches the agonizing pain in your eyes. “I need ya ta know, if circumstances were different…” 

You stop him before he can say more by gently placing your hand against his covered lips; you cannot bear to hear anything else about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It’s too painful right now to dream. Accepting reality is the only thing that is going to help you survive now. The lieutenant’s eyes drop to the floor as he comes to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid. 

Removing your hand from the fabric of his mask, you can feel that recognizable mass welling in your throat and you know you are going to have to leave soon or risk him seeing you cry. That is an image you don’t want to leave him with, not if this is what he has to see before he goes.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you leave,” you say while forcing your best smile for him. “It was hard thinking you’d leave and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye at least.”

He nods as he cups your cheek. “Ya be safe, yeah?” 

You lean into his touch and close your eyes; god, it’s hard not to enjoy his touch. “You too.” 

Time is slipping away fast like sand through a sieve and he knows that you only have a few short minutes left that you will go unnoticed so he blurts out the question that sits on the tip of his tongue and he can’t stop it from coming out. “One last kiss?” he asks, though he hates himself for doing so.

A ragged breath is pushed out of your lungs as your eyes flutter open. The question is surprising, but you already know the answer; you can’t say no because to deny him would mean denying yourself and your heart won’t let you. His hands paw at your face as his eyes beg. 

Your heartbeats mesh together as you press your body against his until they become one rhythm. He keeps his hands locked to your face as you reach up and slip the bottom of his mask up over his lips and rest it on top of his nose. It feels like you are holding your breath and time stops as you again capture his unwavering stare.   

“Make it count,” you breathe.

You can feel the shudder from his desperate inhale as he collapses into you like the burst from a dying star, crashing his fiery kiss onto your mouth with an intensity that makes your knees buckle, but he has you. His arms keep you up as he aggressively steals your lips over and over again, pinning his mouth on yours until it burns, stealing your breath, tasting your kiss, letting that gnawing ache that had been festering in his heart eat him alive.   

His intensity is matched with your own as you kiss him back with everything that you have. You need the feeling of his lips to be imprinted on yours for as long as they can and you push so hard he cannot catch air. But just as quickly as it started, it has to end.

“Eh, ye need ta ‘urry guys,” the sound of Soaps voice calls from the door, forcefully thrusting you both back into reality. Lt. Riley grips around your biceps and pries himself from you with everything he has and with that he bounds away as you fall to your knees and enfold your arms around yourself like a hug, the tears streaming down your cheeks in heavy, engorged droplets. 

He is gone.

The time away does nothing to ease the pain of your separation. Being off base makes your absence in his life even more prominent. You are in his head constantly after that last kiss, haunting him like a ghost that he cannot get rid of and though he knows he should, part of him won’t let go; he can’t. No, that’s not entirely it. Even if he could let go, he won’t.

The lieutenant’s days spent on assignment pass by agonizingly slow and he begins to realize that as much as he enjoys what he does, that it is no longer holding the same importance in his heart as it once did. That feeling has been replaced by something else and that is the way he felt with you. He had thrown everything outside of work to the wayside because never believed that he would get a chance at bits of normalcy in his life. Until you…

What if he is throwing away something that could fulfill him more than his work with the 141? Could he live with that? Whenever he finds himself with a free moment, he spends them silently contemplating that question, mulling it over incessantly in his mind even though he keeps returning to the same conclusion: he can’t live with it. 

He would rather regret leaving all this behind if it meant he could be with you than to regret letting you slip through his fingers. And he desperately wants to tell you that he finally knows what to do.

The thought eats at him until one night, as he lays awake staring at the pitch black ceiling, he can no longer take it and without thinking he is digging through his pack to grab his cell phone and just like that the small, square device is in his hand and he is turning it on. As the light pierces through the darkness, missed call after missed call pops up on the screen all from… Mactavish?  

It’s only been off for a few hours. What the fuck is going on?

Lt. Riley hurriedly moves himself into a quiet corner away from the others sleeping and quickly redials the number. The repetitive ringing continues until they instantaneously stop and the young sergeant answers with an urgency in his tone that makes the lieutenant’s heartbeat pound in his ears.

“LT, fuck, been tryin’ te get a hold a ye fer a while now,” Soap says over the receiver. “Don’t ye ever answer yer god damn phone?”

The lieutenant tries to speak quietly so that he won’t draw any prying ears into eavesdropping on this conversation. “What the hell sergeant? Ya think I just have all the fuckin’ time to chitchat?”

Soap ignores the lieutenant’s agitation; this is more important and he is risking a lot by even having this conversation at all, so it’s gotta be quick. “ ‘Ave ye spoken te Price? Laswell? Anyone back ‘ere?” he asks as if insisting on a swift answer.

“No,” Lt. Riley confirms. “Haven’t had a need. Why?”

“Fuck, so no one’s said anythin’ te ye yet?” Soap questions as if the fact is distressing him.

“ ‘Bout what? Today, Mactavish,” Lt. Riley says with a hint of unchecked panic in his voice. Nothing about how Mactavish sounds is making the lieutenant feel any better, not the way whatever it is has him flustered like this. 

“We ‘ave a situation,” he says firmly and what comes out of his mouth next makes the usually calm and collected lieutenant nearly drop his phone as his entire body goes numb. “The sergeant and her team deployed right after ye, as ye know… all was fine until a few days ago.”

Simon can’t breathe as Soap finishes his sentence. “...we’ve lost contact…they’re all currently MIA.”

Tag list: @flameohotpotatooo @shadowtfpcod @xnyx1n @igotmajordaddyissues @essentialbeats-blog @mishaglass

[smoft-demons]

hey hey! I really like your writing :) I have a request for the brothers:

gn!mc who has trouble sleeping alone bc of nightmares. they can very rarely sleep but are great at hiding it, because they don’t want to bother anybody. they never notice because mc always sleeps fine during sleepovers??? until eventually the lack of sleep gets to them too much and it becomes too noticeable. how do they respond when mc (reluctantly) reveals the truth?

thank you and have a lovely day ❤️

Good prompt! I like this one :)

(This one took a good few hours! Hope you like it!)

MC has nightmares when they sleep alone

_______

Lucifer:

‘…something’s amiss with our human.’ Lucifer thinks.

He’s been observing them lately. Since he cracked down on his brothers sneaking into their room at night—in order to give the poor human a break, so they may rest well and have time to study for the upcoming wave of tests—they’ve been… sluggish. More forgetful. Their assignments are coming back notably worse. He was irritated at first, but when he brought them into his office to confront them about it, he couldn’t ignore how… off they seemed.

Lucifer sets his irritation with their slipping standards aside, in favour of concern. He is above petty reactions, he decides. No, he is reasonable enough to see that there must be a cause for this.

“MC. I did not call you here to berate you. I am not angry with you. Something is obviously wrong. Please, I cannot help you until you tell me what it is.”

You’re not sure if it’s the jarringly unmasked concern in his eyes, or the rising feeling of guilt for stressing him out more than usual that finally cracks your resolve.

Whatever it is, you confide in him. You tell him that you’ve not been sleeping well. He pries the reason out of you, by pointing out his observations about the timing.

Begrudgingly, you admit to having nightmares when you try to sleep alone.

Outwardly, he remains businesslike and practical as always. In his mind, he’s facepalming. In retrospect, the signs are all there! How did he not notice??

He feels just a bit sorry, too. In his attempt to help you, he directly made everything worse. What a great job he’s done…

Then he snaps out of it and steels himself. There’s no use dwelling on that! He can fix this. Very, very easily!

“I see. Then, sleep in my room tonight. I will ensure no nightmares bother you. Once you’ve recovered enough to learn again, I will help you bring your grades back up to your usual standard. Is this satisfactory?”

He refuses to hear any guilt from you about imposing, or taking up his time, or being a burden.

“I am choosing to carry you, MC. There’s no burden.”

From that point on, you’re always welcome in his bed. On the rare occasion that he isn’t home and none of his brothers can sleep over with you, he lends you his coat to sleep under. The familiar scent of him that clings to it is better than nothing.

_______

Mammon:

…Okay, at this point, he HAS to pry. Mammon is one of the first to notice that you’ve not exactly been well lately. You’re being unusually scatterbrained, clumsy, and spacey. You don’t have any energy. It’s obvious to him that there’s a sleep issue! He’s more observant than he looks, ya know!

Now that he thinks of it, these traits are not THAT out of character for you. They’re not usually this bad though!

…shit, does that mean you’re usually sleep deprived? That’s not good. Well! You’re HIS human, and he loves you lots and takes your well being very seriously, as much as he hates to say it out loud. So, he commits himself to figuring this out!

Evening comes. Mammon follows you into the hall leading towards your room. You bash your hip against a wall corner and almost fall to the floor as you dizzily stumble, trying to catch yourself. Mammon grabs you to steady you. Yeah, at this point he has to pry.

“Be careful, human! Seriously, you’d break all your lil toothpick bones without the great Mammon around to protect ya! What’s up with that, huh?”

You trust him of course, but… you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to tell him.

He clicks his tongue impatiently. You don’t say anything. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you into his room. He pushes you down to sit on his bed.

“C’mon, MC. Talk to me. Your first man is here to help!”

“…”

“…please?”

Now, that… almost does it. You feel bad for being stubborn. You know he’s worried, and chaotic as he can be, he’s proven himself as a very good guardian demon time and time again. You take a deep breath, gathering your resolve.

You take just a bit too long. Mammon groans.

“I’m very annoying, yknow. I’ll get it outta ya somehow!”

Mammon pokes your cheeks, gently shakes you, tugs lightly at your hair, as he demands that you talk to him.

“Tell me, tell me tell me tell me tell me, c’mooooon humaaan, tell me!”

‘Oh, fucking fine!’ You think. You confide in him.

He’s mildly tempted to be like, ‘was that really so hard,’ but he won’t. He’s far more concerned than annoyed with you. He feels bad about all the super late nights out he’s been having lately. He wants to always be there for you! Him having missed something like this has him mentally kicking his own ass.

Mammon puts all that aside for now, though. He roots around in a drawer to get two pairs of his old, worn and comfy sweatpants, plus an old tshirt, faded and worn soft from use. He throws the shirt and one of the sweatpants at you

“Go brush your teeth and change, then come right back. We’re having an early night.”

When you return, he locks his door, then puts you back in his bed. He’s changed into the other pair of sweatpants. Mammon wraps himself around you as much as he can, as if to bodily shield you from the nightmares, then pulls his blanket over both of you.

“Sleep, human. No nightmares’ll DARE mess with you now. Not while I’m here. I’ll protect ya.”

Having him so close to you feels like home. Nothing else has ever felt so safe. You sleep deeply, for hours longer than you have in a while.

(Mammon is never letting you sleep alone again)

_______

Levi:

As much as Levi doesn’t want to bother you, he’s getting worried. You’re performing WAY worse at your video games than usual! You’re missing so many inputs! He knows your usual skill level, this game should be a relaxing walk in the park for you! He’s too worried to even make fun of you!

“Ok, that’s it! I can’t take it anymore! What happened to you, normie?? Are you sick?? Do you… not want to play with me? What’s happening??”

He’s worked himself into a panic. You know he’s sensitive enough right now to take it personally if you don’t confide in him. So fine! You’ll talk!

You’ll talk… auuugh, you can’t get the words out! You’re too self conscious about it. Fuck it. You take your DDD out of your pocket and send him a text.

>not been sleeping well. Nightmares. So tired, can’t pretend anymore! >:( Nothing personal, promise!

Levi reads the text. He chews the inside of his cheek for a long moment, thinking. Then he snaps to attention, looking at you with intense determination.

“We can’t have that! I need my player two in optimal condition! There’s no other way for us to win at any games!”

Levi resorts to his old faithful: relaxing slice of life anime! He makes a big pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, arranging them into an MC-and-Levi sized nest. It’s late enough into the evening that it’s reasonable enough to try to put you to sleep.

If just the anime and the blankets and the being in his room isn’t enough to knock you out, he’ll shyly inch over to you to hold your hand. Blushing and looking away from you because he’s shy, but he’ll do it.

If you ask him—or just look sad and cute enough—he’ll even curl up behind you in the blanket-nest and hold you. Levi won’t have ANYTHING hurting his Henry, not if he can do anything about it!

He doesn’t mind holding you all night like this. The fact that you’re asleep helps, he’s not shy when you’re not perceiving him. The anime he’s still watching is helping too. It’s a good distraction.

_______

Satan:

As soon as he started to get the feeling something was wrong with you, he began watching you intently. He’s sharp, so he would have caught this very early on.

He can’t help but have a little fun with this investigation at first, thinking of it as detective work.

Soon though, he gets concerned. You’re irritable, you’re not retaining information or remembering small things as well, you’re clumsier and less generally aware… all dangerous things to be in this realm.

He doesn’t need you to tell him what’s wrong. He puts it together himself. He knows you sleep just fine with him, he knows you seem well rested after sleepovers with any of his brothers too. Clearly it’s not general insomnia. He also knows that the usual frequent sleepovers haven’t been happening for a while now.

When he confronts you, he doesn’t start with asking questions. He lays out all the evidence he’s collected and states his guesses as to the cause.

He tells you he has concluded it’s most likely to be any of these causes: loneliness, separation anxiety, touch deprivation, nightmares, stress-induced insomnia. He asks you to tell him which it is, if it’s more than one, if it’s something else?

He’s so clinical about it, you pretty much forget to be self conscious. All you have to do is confirm that it’s nightmares and they only happen when you sleep alone.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says, regardless of how little you’ve actually told him. “You’re more than welcome to sleep over with me any time. You don’t even have to ask. Just tell me that you’re sleeping over.”

That evening, he leads you into his room. He lies on his back, book in hand, and beckons you to lie on top of him.

He guides your head to rest in the crook of his neck. He balances his book against your shoulders, holding it with one hand. The other wraps around your waist, his thumb rubbing your side soothingly, and he begins to read aloud to you.

His voice and his warmth soothe you to sleep. Not a single nightmare dares touch you.

Asmo:

The first thing Asmo notices is the darkened circles under your eyes.

“Oh, my darling! Your skin!” He gasps, genuinely horrified. “Come, we can do better than that. Let your Asmo take care of you~”

As he often does, Asmo brings you to his room for a spa day. Evening. Night. It’s late.

He smooths moisturizer into your skin, using all the appropriate human-safe products for revitalizing you when you’re tired. He gets a helpful mask on you, then one for him too. As you wait for it to dry, he asks you what’s up.

“Can’t sleep, lovely? You know, if you’re restless I can always tire you out~”

You roll your eyes and elbow him lightly. You expected nothing less from Asmo. Knowing him as well as you do, it’s more endearing than bothersome. You know he’s showing you that he cares.

“Offer’s always open, darling!” He giggles. “But, is there anything else I could do for you? Need to get something off your chest? Or just some good company, hmm?”

Asmo’s really sweet. It’s easy to open up to him—or, as easy as opening up gets. He massages your hand in silence as you gather your resolve to confide in him.

He listens sympathetically. Nodding and humming encouragingly at all the right points as you speak. Squeezing your hand when you need support. Just… being the emotionally intelligent sweetheart that Asmo always is with you.

“You’re welcome to sleep here, love. Nothing you don’t want will happen, of course. Now, let me wash that mask off you, then we can snuggle if you like.”

He washes off the mask, touching you very tenderly as he does. He takes his time gently washing the product off your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately. He gives you a little forehead kiss when your face is clean as his thanks for trusting him.

He lets you lead on how much contact you want. He really just wants to help. He’s happiest if you choose to cuddle with him, but he’s totally chill with just holding your hand, or even just lying next to you. He’s awesome like that.

No matter what you choose, the familiar perfume of Asmo’s room and the reassuring rhythm of his breathing lulls you to sleep. It feels safe.

You sleep really well. Asmo really is the best.

Beel:

Beel understands nightmares. He gets them too. He spots the signs easily, familiar as they are to him.

All he has to do is spot the haunted look in your eyes when he sees you before breakfast. Very distracted he usually is at that time, yes, but he loves you. He pays attention to you. He notices it pretty quick.

He can’t help but wonder why you haven’t approached him about it. Hasn’t he demonstrated to you that nightmares in particular are a thing he’s safe for you to confide in about? He’s not going to take it personally, but he IS going to worry.

He keeps an ear trained on your room whenever he goes into the kitchen at night. Carefully listening for any signs of distress.

After a few nights of this, he gives into his impulse and goes to check on you after his midnight snack. He brings you something he knows you like.

He’s not surprised to find you awake.

“Hey.” He says through a mouthful of his own food. “Want a snack?” He comes in to put it in your hands as soon as you acknowledge him.

The two of you eat together, sitting quietly on your bed side by side. Beel’s careful not to drop any crumbs.

You remain quiet even after all traces of snacks are eliminated.

“Nightmares?” Beel asks gently, looking at you with those irresistible soft worried puppy eyes he does. You can’t lie to him. You’re not a monster!

You nod. He hums sympathetically, looking genuinely saddened on your behalf. He gets it.

“Want a hug?” He offers

You press yourself into his side. He wraps one very big arm around you, and you melt into him like warm mozzarella. His solid presence is reassuring. You feel so safe with him. You’re already starting to drift as he rubs your shoulder with one large thumb.

“Would it help if I stay?” Beel murmurs to you.

You nod again.

So Beel picks you up, settling himself in your bed with you and arranging you comfortably in his arms.

He starts softly stroking your hair. Trying to help you relax more.

“Thanks for letting me help you.” Beel says earnestly. It’s obvious that he really means it. He’s grateful you’re trusting him with this. He’s very happy that you’re accepting his comfort, because he wants nothing more than to help you and protect you.

He’s good at that. Being comforting. Helpful and protective—that’s Beel.

You drift off peacefully, with nothing on your mind except the sleep-blurred sentiment of feeling grateful for him, too.

Belphie:

Without question, Belphie is the first one to notice that you’re having nightmares. Sleep is his main thing!

You only get to have one bad night before he steps in. He drags you up to the attic to nap with you right after school. No nightmares happen, of course, because you’re not sleeping alone. Belphie congratulates himself on a job well done!

…wait. Again?? He finds himself aware that you’re having another nightmare that night, hours later when you’re trying to sleep by yourself. Fuck sake.

He goes to your room. You snap awake at the disturbance. Without a word, he pours himself into your bed, draping across you like a clingy cat and going right back to sleep.

Bit rude. But this is helpful. You go back to sleep too, and have no nightmares. Good job, Belphie.

Then the next night, it happens again!! Mildly vexed at the persistent issue, he does the same thing as last night.

The next evening, he doesn’t let you go to bed alone to begin with. He goes with you, staying just aware enough that he can snipe your nightmares before they get a chance to terrorize you—but… none happen? Huh. Wild. Okay.

The next night, he finally asks you what the deal is. You hesitate to tell him. Belphie has no qualms about annoying the information out of you, if his initial blunt concern isn’t enough to get you to talk. If you don’t crack, he’ll try tickling you until you talk to him. If you STILL don’t crack, he’ll sic Beel and his concerned puppy eyes on you. No one can resist Beel’s concerned puppy eyes. Especially not when it’s BOTH twins looking at you like that!

Resistance is futile. You reluctantly tell him that you have nightmares only when you sleep alone.

He mentally slaps himself. Obviously!

He was prepared to use any of his avatar of sloth abilities necessary to cure you of your nightmares—and he still is—but he’s happy (and secretly endeared) to learn that the cure is nothing more than his presence. Less work for him! Less work, AND a good excuse to steal you away for naps all the time! Two of his favourite things!

Belphie is never letting you sleep alone again. No, you’ll either be together in your room, together in his and Beel’s room, or together in the attic.

He’ll make an exception for sleepovers with his other brothers too if you miss them. You’re so lucky he loves you.

[azulazenin]

On your knees

Kinktober 2024 | Deepthroating

Pairing: Adrian Tepes/Alucard x Original Character (Mihaela Karnstein)

Summary: Newly engaged Adrian and Mihaela trying new things in bed.

Warnings: Blowjob, cum eating, face fucking. Minors DNI !

A/N: This is an extra for my story The Blackest Day and its sequel Swan Song. Be mindful that in this particular universe, Alucard was born in 1451 and not 1456 like the show, and Mihaela was born in 1453. However, they are both dhampirs and they develop faster, by the time this excerpt happens they are physically, emotionally and mentally adults.

1463

“Are you sure about it?” Adrian asked tenderly as he looked down at her. “You don’t have to do it just to please me...”

“I want to.” Mihaela was already on the floor, knelt in front of him on a pillow, her inexperienced yet firm hands undoing the ribbon of his sleeping pants. “I like doing things for you.”

He swallowed dry, feeling his face going warm and red. Ever since they slept together for the first time, only a week ago, they’ve been trying new things in bed, exploring each other’s bodies and the nuances of their desires. Mihaela was an anxious lover, so eager to try to give him everything that, sometimes, she ended up covered in bruises and aching spots on her body. The marks never make it to the morning, her dhampir blood granting her fast recovery to almost anything, but Adrian, always sweet and caring, was still afraid of hurting her.

“You must guide me, though. I’ve never tried this before.” The way she looked up at him, eyes burning with lust and anticipation had his cock throbbing in his pants.

Adrian nodded, watching her pull down his only piece of clothe and release his growing erection. Mihaela gasped, she had seen him naked and ready for her at least half dozen times now, but she never had his dick this close to her face, much less about to enter her mouth.

So she started with the things she already knew how to do. Spitting on her hand, she wrapped it around his member, slowly going up and down his length, feeling it pulse in her palm, bringing her other hand to hold the head and run her thumb over the glans.

“Is it good?”

“Y-Yes...” He gasped, fingers sinking into the mattress.

Mihaela smirked, continuing to work her hands on him until he was fully erect. Once he was finally ready, she leaned closer to his member and stuck her tongue out. She started out with shy, contained cat licks, feeling the salty taste of precum for the first time, finding it more appealing than she thought she would.

Above her, Adrian whimpers, fighting an inner battle not to grab her by her hair and push his cock inside her mouth at once, constantly reminding himself that he shouldn’t rush things and ruin her first experience giving him head. His dear love wasn’t doing it just for him after all, he could tell how much it was turning her on given the way she was pressing her legs together.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if I do it wrong.” She plead in half excitement, half wariness,

“I promise. But worry not, honey, just do what feels natural to you.”

Assured by his sweet words, Mihaela opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. She slightly stuck her tongue out again, trying to coordinate the sucking with circling movements.

“Watch y-your... teeth!” He warned between moans, reminding her that she had fangs as sharp as his.

Mihaela managed a half nod, retracting her lips over her teeth in order not to hurt him as she lowered her head down to his shaft. A drop of saliva ran down her chin as she took more of him in her mouth, her eyes tearing up a little, but the sensation was not unpleasant at all, the throbbing of his dick on her tongue, brushing against her cheek walls caused her to grow wet, it would have damped her undies had she been wearing any.

“Fuck!” Adrian cursed, his tip was so close to hitting her throat that he struggled to speak. “Keep going, love, you’re doing so well...”

His praise made her clench around nothing, and she lowered her head more and more until she took all of his member, choking when it reached her throat. Adrian was quite big when he was hard, it had her doubting if she’d be able to take him in her virgin cunt the first time they had sex, but he fucked her so good she barely felt the pain of her broken maidenhead. She could only hope it would be the case again.

Mihaela held back the reflex of letting go of him to catch her breath, holding onto his knees to keep control of her actions, but Adrian gently pushed her off of him the moment he noticed her struggle.

“Are you alright, my love?”

Mihaela gasped, catching her breath. “Yes, I’m fine… I just need to learn how to breathe with my mouth stuffed.”

He couldn’t say if she meant to sound so obscene, but he groaned in pleasure, not resisting the urge to grasp at her hair when she wrapped her lips around his cock again. He didn’t try to move her head at the pace he desired, he merely held the big brown curls he was so in love with as he watched her getting the hang of it, as she slowly sucked and licked all over his member, taking him deeper in her throat each time.

Her name escaped his lips like a prayer, the vision beneath him could make him come at the spot. Her chin was wet with saliva and precum, her nipples stiff and peeking through the thin fabric of her chemise, her digits pressing on his thighs and her toes curling in need.

“Darling...” Adrian moaned, struggling to keep his hips still instead of moving it against her mouth. “I… I need...”

She let go of his cock with an indecent pop noise. “Do it.” She begged, guessing what he wanted. “I can take it, I promise.”

He threw his last bit of control through the window and used his hold on her hair to push her face against his dick, moving his hips against her mouth once she had him back inside.

Mihaela clawed at Adrian’s thighs, both for balance and trying to endure the initial discomfort of being face fucked. Warm tears ran down her cheek as his tip hitted the back of her throat over and over again, but the look on her hazel eyes as she choked on him made it clear how much she was enjoying it. She loved when he lost control, when his mind was so clouded by pleasure and his only coherent thought was to rail her.

Adrian got up and tilted her head in a better angle for him to use her mouth, one of his hands moving to wrap around her neck, to feel how deep she was taking him, all the while he moaned and said he was sorry for being so harsh, but since she gave no indication that she wanted him to stop, he didn’t. He pushed his dick in and out until his legs were shaking and his seed spilling on her tongue.

He tried to pull out and jerk himself into oblivion, not wanting to make her swallow cum in her first time sucking him, but Adrian failed miserably at the task, he only managed to withdraw after the last drop came out.

Mihaela coughed and gasped for air, swallowing everything he gave her, breathing heavily as Adrian watched her with both worry and satisfaction. He sat back on the bed and took her face in his hands, gently running his thumb over her lips.

“You’re alright?”

“… yes.” She answered, her breath slowly going back to normal. “Was I good?”

Adrian chuckled. “Do you really need to ask, my love?”

She laughed with him, placing a kiss on his thumb and resting her head on his lap, and his hands immediately found their way to caress her scalp.

“But we’re not done yet.”

She arched her brow, wasn’t he satisfied yet? “No?”

“No.” He smirked, his mind bubbling with unholy thoughts. Adrian pulled her up to her feet only to push on the bed right after. Mihaela bit on her lip with anticipation as she watched him grab her knees to spread her legs open, exposing her already soaked warmth. “Now it’s your turn.”

And the night was only getting started.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Snippet #5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: I honestly don’t know what this is or where it came from, I just had to write it down. I'm hoping to continue it.

Summary: Bucky’s girlfriend is struggling with her mental health.

Warnings: 18+ Only (no sexual content). Mention of insomnia, depression, and anxiety. 

---------------------------

She sits by the open window, breathing in the heavy scent of the steady summer rain, listening to the thunder getting closer. She should be in bed, with Bucky’s arms wrapped around her, snuggling her back to sleep. But, she can’t seem to make herself go.

It’s been weeks of this. Insomnia. Depression. Anxiety. Every day things feel just a bit more hopeless, like the world is coming to an end. In reality, things are safer than they’ve ever been. And yet, here she sits, unshed tears blurring her vision, her body tired but her mind wide awake, on edge.

The closer the storm gets, the more anxious she feels. As if the energy of the weather is triggering her fight or flight response. She opens the window a bit more, scooting closer to the screen, imagining herself out in the storm, getting soaked to the bone. At least then she’d have a reason for the way her body is currently shaking.

“Sweetheart,” the tenderness of Bucky’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she glances over her shoulder to find him watching her from the doorway. She has no idea how long he’s been standing there, but she recognizes the worry on his face. 

She lets out a heavy sigh and bites back the unnecessary apology, turning her attention back to the storm. Bucky’s done everything he can to be patient with her, and never once has he made her feel like she’s a burden, but it’s taken an obvious toll on their relationship. The way she’s kept him at arm’s length, scared to let him see how much she’s really struggling.

She misses him. His hands on her body. Losing herself in their intense connection. But, she barely has the energy to get out of bed. Just the thought of intimacy is too hard right now, no matter how much she craves it. 

Her racing thoughts are interrupted again when Bucky comes closer, now barely a foot from the window nook where she’s sitting. “I just want to take care of you.” She turns her head to watch him slowly crouch down next to the seat, never once taking his eyes off of her, a soft smile on his face. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to though.”

She shakes her head immediately, needing him to understand it’s not about that. Her mouth opens, the words on the tip of her tongue, but nothing comes out. This is how it’s been for weeks. Words desperately trying to claw their way out, only to get stuck in her throat with no escape. 

The frustration easily builds, fresh tears pricking her eyes, and she looks away again, letting out a shuddering breath. Bucky should just give up on her. Leave her to wallow in self-pity and loneliness. He never will though.

“It’s also okay if you want me to take care of you,” he continues, his hand slowly reaching out towards her, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the blanket wrapped around her, waiting for permission touch her.

Bucky sees her, knows her in ways no one ever has. Her independence is her shield, something she’s carefully cultivated. She’s handled everything that life’s thrown at her on her own, and relying on someone else doesn’t come easy.

“It’s okay if you need me to take care of you.”

---------------------------

Follow-up fic, Whatever You Need

Main Masterlist

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Oh, Maker

"The humans are strange and graceful as they explore the garden, explore themselves, explore each other. The trouble is, the humans stare back, which makes him uncomfortable; there’s nothing particularly interesting about him. And, though he rarely admits it to himself, the humans make him lonely; he has no Other to explore." Or: how many times can you take a bath with your best friend before you kiss him?

Length: 57,034 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, At Home, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn

Triggers: None/ Religious Trauma themes

Read it here, fic by voluptatiscausa

*Minor Spoilers* I've had this fic bookmarked for months, I love this author and all the stories of theirs I've read. But my ADHD often has me piling on more without diving into what I already have saved. So, when I was about to begin the author's latest fic, I paused. I realized I needed to prioritize this story first, and appreciate it fully. And now, I want you to do the same!

This is a pre season 2 "through the ages" story, visiting some of the historical settings we're familiar with and adding new ones as well. We watch as the weight of the world hangs on Aziraphale and Crowley’s shoulders. The impossibility of alleviating human suffering, the pain of being abandoned by their Creator, their Mother, and the lingering desperation for her approval. So when they've burnt out, they turn to each other. They comfort each other with warm intimacy through baths, manicures, brushing each other's hair, each taking care of the other and showing us how holy love can be. It's gorgeous and heartbreaking all at once. Their love is so true, even if they have trouble believing they're worthy of being loved and desired. “It’s because love can’t be earned, sweetheart. It’s given.”

The beauty of fanfic is that it can exceed the canon. This is not just in character; to me it's more in character than the canon itself. The book and show are comedies; they don't have time to dive this deeply into their characters' motivations and histories. And, of course, that's not a bad thing, especially since it brought us all here. But when I read something like this, something that brings a real depth and understanding to the characters, I'm amazed. This isn’t the only fic I’ve felt this way about, but it’s a prime example of that feeling. It’s just that, when I read a story that specifically focuses on their entire 6,000 years together and all the history they’ve gone through, I get frustrated that those moments are played for laughs in the book/show. The Flood, the Crucifixion, the Spanish Inquisition all throw away lines that don’t stop to dive into the wealth of story that’s possible there. I get why it doesn’t linger, I do, but fic narratives are so much more interesting to me than what the canon alone can provide.

This is a deeply moving and powerful story. Full of musings on shame, desire, religious trauma, and the beauty of the world we live in. Life is a terrible and wonderful thing. While this is mostly safe for public, I really suggest making this an at home read. It's a bit heavier, something you want to be in the right headspace for, and it features very rich prose. Never dense or hard to follow, but very beautiful, and you'll want to give it your full attention. I realize I may have made this seem like full angst, but it’s not! There's some wonderful loving fluffy moments to be found as well. Be sure to check out the other works that belong in this series! They are devastatingly good as well. Pair with some fruit for the full effect!

Read it here, fic by voluptatiscausa

[gay-dorito-dust]

hello I wanted to ask if you could make Connor Hawke head cannons,I really like your work and I think Connor Hawke should have more recognition. Anyway bye QUEEN or KING.

I had to read multiple things about this character and apparently he’s asexual! ONE OF US! ONE OF US! Also he’s pretty fucking cool. Sorry this took so long for me to get to writing, I hope you enjoy.

You most likely met Connor through Damian and or Tim Drake or even both if you were close enough for the both of them.

However that maybe through vigilantism or just casually as civilians is up to you.

But if you were a civilian friend of theirs, then you wouldn’t be privy to their identities, but if you followed a similar path to them in the art of crime fighting then you were more then likely teaming up with either Damian, Tim with Connor tagging along now and then.

Tim would tell you how indebted he was to Connor, highlighting all the good he is and how skilful he was in a variety of ways.

where as with Damian, he would speak of Connor like you expected him to, with a bluntness that told you his true feelings towards the Green Arrow and how they’ve clashed on multiple occasions for one reason or another.

Which automatically made you have immense respect for Connor as Damian wasn’t an easy opponent to go up against in the slightest, so to hear how closely matched the two were was another thing entirely. If anything both of their stories made you want to meet him.

And soon enough you did when he had aided you out of a really tight spot, showing off his abilities with close quarters combat as well as his abilities with a bow and arrow, he was precise and made it look as easy as breathing; as though all of this came second nature to him.

‘Thanks. You saved my ass back there.’ You said, completely out of breath.

‘I’m sure you had it handled, to an extent.’ Connor replied as he offered you a hand.

Soon you found yourself having a partnership with the green arrow on the odd occasion should you both be nearby, trading smart commentary while swiftly taking down whoever it was you were against before bidding each other farewell.

Nothing more nothing less but during the more quieter nights you and Connor could be found on rooftops trading stories of childhood and the traumas you’ve gone through to become the people you were now.

You wanted to strangle Oliver Queen, you really wanted to strangle the guy even if the fucker was dead. You didn’t care, you had a bone to pick with the man who thought he could escape fatherhood. He angered you greatly.

‘Your father’s a prick.’ You said. ‘A giant fucking prick and a right royal rich fuck up.’

Connor shrugs. ‘He wasn’t much of one to begin with, so how could I expect him to be one when he lacked the confidence to not fuck it all up.’

You patted him on the shoulder. ‘If it’s any consolation, you’re my favourite green arrow.’ You smile at him as he chuckled at your words, finding your ability to insult and compliment someone in the same breath endearing and unique, a breath of fresh air while you found his presence equally as calming and pleasant to be near.

Which made it harder for you to depart when your jobs as vigilantes were done for the night.

So you start hanging out as civilians also!

Once Connor feels comfortable with his bond with you he’ll inform you that he’s asexual, which you valued his trust and bravery in telling you such a vital bit of information of himself in the first place. It was a staple of how much he trusted you and you never saw him any different.

If you’re also asexual you’d start chanting ‘one of us! One of us!’ Before you talked about how you both realised that you were asexual and deepen your bond even more as your conversations went deeper and deeper to the point you both knew each other as well as you knew yourselves.

Deep conversations were a massive part of your relationship with Connor, it shows that you both deeply care for one another and loved to learn more about one another and share little bits of wisdom, making you both just the little more wiser thanks to the other.

You and Connor appreciate what you both been through, always reminding how much stronger you both have been throughout it all, all the while appreciating the new bits of personality you gained from being in close proximity to one another. So much so that it makes fighting a lot more easier for the both of you as you move together as a unit, like one being, and work in such tandem that you could tell what the other was going to do without the need for words.

Connor probably tries to have you learn how to use a bow and arrow, whether or not this goes well is up to you.

So if you’re shit at it expect a playful ‘I think it’s best to leave the archery to me.’ From him.

[themastermarkus]

Why Erwin Smith in Season 3 and the Choice in Midnight Sun Doesn't Work.

In Season 3 (excuse me for using “seasons” to mark out the arcs, as I do mean the equivalent time in the manga, it’s just simpler since this problem is spread out between all the arcs in that season), Isayama sets up Erwin’s intense guilt over sending soldiers to their deaths for his goal of wanting to learn the truth of humanity and the titans—dspite it making no sense for him to feel like his goal is selfish, as finding out the origin of the titans is already established to be part of the goal of the Survey Corps. It’s fine for Erwin to feel guilty for making calls that lead to peoples’ deaths, but Isayama seems to write Erwin as though he is objectively in the moral wrong despite the fact that using people to fulfill his personal goal is indistinguishable from if he just took over the Survey Corps and kept doing what they already did. I suppose it might be implied that he encouraged more research about the titans which… is not a bad thing when they fight the titans. Otherwise in the rebellion arc he has Survey Corps soldiers dying for him in fights against the government, but I never got the impression that he was forcing anyone into it under orders.

It feels very out of character for Levi not to choose to save Erwin. Kenny’s line about “everyone being a slave to something” that’s referenced in the moment of that decision doesn’t work because Erwin has not been shown to have a harmful, slavish obsession, just a personal goal that he throws himself into more recently since the opportunity to achieve it has presented itself (Not to mention that Erwin is like… metres away from his goal when this choice is being made, after which point he would no longer “be a slave to it”). Not giving the serum to Erwin does not feel like a choice that Levi, the character, would make given how close he and Erwin are implied to be. Instead, it feels like Levi is making the choice as if he only knows as much about Erwin and Armin as the audience does and is making a choice that could reasonably go either way because WE know both characters roughly as much, or Armin even better than Erwin, really. The problem is that this doesn’t realistically consider Levi’s experiences with each character, which is the choice between a man he’s known for years who changed his life dramatically, who he follows loyally and holds a lot of respect and affection for, and a kid that he’s come to care for in the general way that Levi cares for all the cadets, but he’s only known for like… a year max. It feels like choosing to save Armin is forced upon Levi because Isayama wanted Erwin to die and Armin to live and get the Colossal Titan because he came up with those story beats and was going to shove his way into them somehow.

On that note: Armin is just… I would say objectively the wrong choice. Armin is a character who is shown to be clever and driven (and everyone talks about how smart he is), he’s good at deduction but he’s not a tactician or a leader. He is brought back because Isayama wanted to have him, Mikasa, and Eren once again be crucial to the story at the end of it, not because it makes sense for the Survey Corps to sacrifice their COMMANDER for a cadet who has shown to be worth something, but clearly isn’t a replacement for a man who seems to be the best leader they’ve ever had. I think the choice of Armin could be more valid if Erwin was mentoring him (though still a stretch considering there’s nothing wrong with Erwin [at least nothing worth the mercy killing that Isayama seems to be portraying not using the serum on him as] and he’s only like 35 or something), but he’s not. Armin is only really, functionally important to the Survey Corps because he is close to Eren. Also, while this is probably my least-strong argument against picking Armin, but I feel like if Isayama wanted him to be convincingly still alive at that point, he probably should’ve had Armin a bit further away from Bertholdt’s explosion. That boy isn’t just externally burnt, he should have died like… immediately.

And don’t get me wrong, I don’t even dislike Armin, nor do I think that Levi wouldn’t feel a bit of guilt for not saving him, I just hate bad writing that seems to rely so heavily on plot convenience, and I think that this point of the story is where it was really affirmed that things were going to go downhill pretty consistently (barring most of Reiner’s part at the beginning of the Marley arc, but that’s another subject).

P.S. I'm currently reading the manga for this part after having only watched the anime, so I might have more to say later, though I doubt that my opinions on these writing choices will change considering that I don't think the anime cut out SO MUCH that these choices will instead make sense.

[mxtxfanatic]

Do you have any posts about all the things the people who use demonic cultivation have in common?

I’m not sure I can explain it properly, but I came away from the book thinking that all the people who used demonic cultivation (either directly or through the Yin Tiger Tally) are very similar to one another in terms of their trauma, background, and status as cultivators.

They all have quite traumatic upbringings, either living on the streets for some time or otherwise mistreated as part of the serving class. While they end up with some form of sect alliance, they are only ever half accepted, with their common parentage being brought up quite often. They’re all stuck living on that razor edge of not quite acceptability.

It makes me think that demonic cultivation represents or reflects that sort of traumatic razor’s edge position. (Appropriate when they are literally using resentment).

The major difference between the demonic cultivators is how they decide to use the trauma they’ve been stuck with. Wei Ying does his best to channel it towards protecting people, while trying to minimize harm to the innocent (though some “splash damage” is inevitable), while Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao use it as an excuse to hurt others with impunity (trying to drag the whole world down with them if they must).

Hopefully I’ve made sense.

Hate to say it, but the only demonic cultivator in the text is Xue Yang. Wei Wuxian does not cultivate with mo (living humans) but gui (dead humans), which is why his cultivation is called the ghost path. A better wording would be about who strays from the orthodox path of cultivating, but even then, all of the “righteous” cultivation clans would fall under this because they use Wei Wuxian’s inventions that they stole after his death. Speaking just on the characters listed, though, Xue Yang uses living humans by turning them into living corpse puppets, making him a demonic cultivator, but he also still uses a sword and his golden core, meaning he never left the orthodox cultivation path.

Other than both being street orphans taken in by major clans as kids, Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang have nothing in common. Wei Wuxian had a moral code that he followed even on the street, while Xue Yang didn’t and made a name for himself being a terror before he became a cultivator. When they become cultivators, it is only Wei Wuxian who is disparaged for his background. Nobody ever calls Xue Yang a servant, insults his parentage, or treats him less than courteously, from what we are shown in the text, until he massacres the Chang Clan. He is a guest of the Jin, therefore making him practically untouchable. Now, bringing Jin Guangyao into this, yes he was disparaged in the beginning, but he was definitely accepted once he climbed his way into the clan leader position. People stopped bringing up his past and parentage due to it, because now he was in an accepted and traditional position of power.

The story isn’t about how the type of cultivation one uses represents a theme or says something about the person using it (other than the demonic cultivation because that one says a lot about Xue Yang who created it); it’s about how any cultivation path, orthodox or not, can be used for good or evil and what really matters is to look at the character of the person. Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao are greedy bastards who want to be universally feared (the former) and worshipped (the latter), and will sacrifice anyone or anything that goes against their plans to attain power. They both use sword cultivation to achieve these goals, even if they use other tools to aid. Xue Yang turns to demonic cultivation because he is not clever or powerful enough to use the ghost path as effectively as Wei Wuxian does nor does he have empathy or care for the living or dead which is necessary for the ghost path, so he takes shortcuts with horrific (intended) consequences, instead. Wei Wuxian made his name exclusively with the ghost path and only did so by doing what was right. But only Wei Wuxian was reviled for it until the very end.

In short, mxtx doesn’t write stories where you can use characters’ identities and backgrounds as shorthand for moral lessons. So while all three characters had their traumas and bad encounters with the “righteous” established cultivation clans, Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao are villains because they ultimately believed in the same system that abused them and, thus, strove to uphold it so that they could benefit from that power to oppress others, while Wei Wuxian is the hero for challenging that system and rejecting it for its corruption.

[damnedrainbows]

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

Mmmm, I have so many of these but I’ll pick my biggest one.

That Husk hates Alastor and wants him dead

Now don’t get me wrong, he probably does hate him to some degree and probably doesn’t like him much, but to me there’s quite a bit of evidence that they have an amicable relationship that might have come from a friendship first. The biggest indicator of a level of comfort between them is how Husk talks to Alastor, swearing at him, and calling him names and even swiping at him. Sure that doesn’t’ say ‘best friends’, but it does speak for how comfortable he is talking back to him and giving a lot of pushback. (Now of course all this was before their hall altercation so things might have changed now.) I do genuinely believe that was the first time Alastor has ever really made him scared and been seriously rough with him.

For that matter, he went to Alastor to warn him about Mimzy, with no indication that it was just for the hotel’s benefit. I think he may have been aware of the fact maybe even that could be something Alastor couldn’t handle. Also, now this is just something me and Devon are probably grasping at straws, but Husk calling him ‘boss’ in that moment. Granted they’ve had limited interactions so far but never once has he called him that, it’s literally just…different insults and swearing at him. This was a moment where Alastor was spiraling and feeling out of control and threatened, and being regarded as the boss, probably helped give him a bit of that control back in his mind. Like I said, probably grasping at straws. Radiohusk delusion. I think it meant something.

There’s quite a history between them, that much is clear. I don’t see it having always been contention. These three, the radio trio were together for decades I think. I know I’ve idealized them as ‘two gay dads and their grown up daughter”, but I really do feel like a bit of that could lean to canon, even without romance.

I think the biggest indicator that there is mutual care and respect in this relationship, is Husk knows about Al’s leash. This is fucking HUGE for a man that refuses to allow himself be vulnerable. This means Al has either told him, or he’s seen…perhaps the aftermath of Al meeting with his own keeper. We don’t know if Niffty knows but I have a feeling she’s in the dark. Husk also seems to know where Al was in those years.

“You’ve been gone for years and it’s not like anyone knows why”

“They don’t need to know.” Interesting wording, he didn’t say ‘you’ don’t need to know.

I went off on a tangent but I do not feel this relationship is anything near cut and dry as “wants him dead and would kill him” for Husk. Hell I don”t even think it’s that way for Alastor. This is a man that kills overlords if they get in his way, in his effort to climb to the top. He kills them and broadcasts their screams, and it takes next to nothing for him to kill a man when they piss him off. So why then is Husk alive? Why did he keep him by his side instead? I personally believe this man is just so fucking unhealthy it’s the only way he thinks he can keep companionship, if he asserts his power over them in some manner, likely coming from his own insane daddy trauma. It also doesn’t help that Husk hates fake people and all Alastor know how to be is…a mask.

I think half the reason he’s so fucking exasperated with him is he wants Alastor to just be real with him and maybe even let him in, but the dude just doesn’t know how.

Husk wants freedom but I don’t personally think at all he would rejoice if Alastor actually died. I think they’re gonna struggle in the series but I genuinely believe with season 2 focusing more on Alastor, and season three being a theme of ‘revelations and family’, that he’s going to free Husk and Niffty.

[crawfordtil]

Roleplay Request

Hello everybody!!! I’m looking for new roleplay partners for a few different fandoms. I do ask that you are 20+ since I’m 21 and I do enjoy more mature themes at times. Also I roleplay paragraph style, and I will add an example at the end of this post!

*characters I prefer to play will be bold

Fandoms & Ships

Reanimator | Daniel Cain x Herbert West

Buffy the Vampire Slayer | Buffy Summers x Spike, Buffy Summers x Giles Rupert, Buffy Summers x Faith Lehane

Twin Peaks | Dale Cooper x Harry Truman, Dale Cooper x Annie Blackburn, Albert Rosenfield x Harry Truman, Albert Rosenfield x Dale Cooper

Evil Dead | Ash Williams x Ruby Knowny, Ash Williams x Herbert West, Ash Williams x Pablo Simon Bolivar, Pablo Simon Bolivar x Kelly Maxwell

I’m open to other ships in these fandoms so please don’t hesitate to reach out!!!

You can either reach out to me here on tumblr or add me on discord @ crawfordtil to rp!!!

Rp examples

1. Herbert couldn’t stand these pointless parties, he’s sees more than enough of their coworkers on the clock, he has no desire to see them *off* the clock. Honestly, he’d love it if him and Dan just weren’t invited, it would give them all the more reason to spend time in the lab or *elsewhere*. If he’s going to drink, he’d prefer it in the company of their home, and usually he would’ve stood his ground and insisted they can *’let loose’* in their own home. Of course, that’s before they started dating. It was far easier to turn Dan down, but now those big brown puppy dog eyes *tug* at his heart a little too hard. He caved in embarrassingly quick, agreeing to go to the hospital outside of work.

And it was everything he’d expected; loud, boisterous laughter echoing throughout the building, fake excitement over their arrival (Herbert knows they’d rather he not show up, they can usually tolerate Dan), and an obscene amount of liquor. Herbert can’t deny that he indulged just a *bit*, it made it easier to simply *exist*. Eventually Herbert had enough of the bright lights and chatter, dragging Dan outside only to find himself pressed against the brick wall. Now *this* was far more enjoyable. “*Really*, I’d much rather be here with you,” he says, tilting his head to capture his lips in a *passionate* kiss. They definitely should not be out here where anyone could walk by, but Herbert can’t find it in him to care tonight, pleasantly heady from the alcohol and having his boyfriend pressed up against him.

2. Buffy wants nothing more than to stay on the plane with Giles, honestly she’d take London over this place, but alas, duty calls. She takes the lead, Sylvia at her side and the other two girls behind them. It’s freezing outside, she’s never once experienced cold like this, and *god* does she hope she never has to again. Not only is it cold, but the snow leaves little to be seen, and the howling wind drowns out most noise. It’s feels like hours that they’ve been walking around, surveying the land. There wasn’t anything special about it, a whole bunch of snow and scattered lights outside the compound, and no signs of life, supernatural or otherwise. Then again, Buffy’s sure if anything disturbed the pristine snow, it would’ve been covered up in minutes.

Buffy has never been more relieved to hear that they’re almost there, hopefully they’ll be able to get some semblance of warmth inside. “I think I see it up ahead!” She yells back, squinting against the relentless wind to make out the fuzzy shape of a decently large building. And while Buffy isn’t exactly happy about the fact they haven’t found anything, because that’s never a good sign, she can’t complain about calling it a night. They’ve spent all day cooped up in a plane, then the afternoon— or evening, she’s not sure— searching for demonic activity in an unknown place, they deserve a break. She can tell the girls are a bit drained, and she can’t blame them, but it’s nothing some food and rest can’t fix.

The sight of the buildings entrance is everything she’s ever wanted, today at least. Hauling the door open, Buffy waits until everyone’s in before shutting it behind her, tugging on it for good measure. “Let’s all stick together and look around before we settle down for the night,” she suggests. It’ll be good to get familiarized with the building and to make sure their monster isn’t hiding out in a room waiting to pick them off one by one.

[staring-at-my-keyboard]

The parallels and differences in how Thomas and Atlas were brought up and how that translates to them in the present make me so Unwell I need to talk about them.

The parallels first: both Thomas and Atlas were raised as commodities by parents that viewed them as more of their roles as opposed to children, and as their present selves they both still have one foot stuck in that, but in different ways, because neither of them really know how to get out of it.

Now onto specifics.

Long-ass multi-character ramble under the cut, warnings for: financial + emotional + child abuse (nothing physical).

This was a ride to write, I love my blorbos so much why have I done this to them

Atlas

So, Atlas first. My boy was raised in rural Northern England, in a tiny village, to a French father and British mother that owned the sole bookshop. Atlas, as a firstborn, was slated to get the bookshop upon their parents’ passing. This was defined the moment they were born, to the point where they were never able to truly develop ambitions or plans of their own— their entire world was their village and the surrounding wilderness and countryside, and they were neither content nor upset with that; it was how it was. Seven years after they were born their brother Théodore comes along, and Atlas got to pick the name, which already cemented them as a foundational figure in Theo’s life not only to them, but their parents: now, not only were they the inheritor of their family’s legacy, they were the Eldest Child, they had duties to their family and their brother, specifically. They were fine with this, of course they were— they weren’t allowed to feel otherwise. Atlas was pulled from school at age 10 to further focus on helping around the shop and getting a feel for it, since all they really needed was knowledge of arithmetic and how to read, while Theo remained in school and even had university aspirations as Atlas watched him from behind the purchase desk. They read vigorously, and self-taught quite a few (very randomly-chosen) things, and took dear care of their brother until he was killed— after their parents had died— which they perceived as a failing on their part because they were supposed to protect him, so the least they could do for the life they were responsible for was avenge it.

Atlas was an emotional child, that grew into an emotional adult, but from a certain (young) age was expected to have maturity and decorum. Add this expectation to the fact that they’re autistic, and you have someone who has done their damndest to figure out social norms who also has a funky emotional cocktail brewing just beneath their skin at Literally All Times. Their anger is an explosive thing, if something makes them happy they will beam like the sun, if they cry for anything- happiness, sadness, panic, etc they will apologize repeatedly out of habit to anyone who isn’t Thomas and do their best to eliminate any evidence of tears. Despite this, there are still certain things they aren’t allowed to feel, so they simply don’t think about it and shut it off. Their deepest darkest secret from themself is that they never wanted to come to the Neath, and regret it every day; if they hadn’t felt an absolute obligation to their deceased parents they wouldn’t have even tracked the killer, and instead would’ve remained on the Surface and mourned.

Now, despite this, there are many things about the Neath they relish: the connections they’ve made, the studies they’ve been able to pursue— while self-teaching filled some of that hole that was left by having a (supposedly) pre-defined fate, suddenly having a future open to them was kind of intoxicating when they first realized it, and even after years that realization is part of what leads them to be so reckless and obsessive with what seizes their interest; they are pursuing things because they can, why would they not go all-out? (Once they and Thomas grew closer and he learned how bad they were at taking care of themself he was appalled, and while they were initially confused they now think it’s the sweetest thing and picture him almost every time they eat.)

Thomas

My beloved NPC… Thomas is Neathborn, the scion and only child to an exceedingly wealthy family that has a high standing with devils, and has hated those facts for his entire life. His parents sold their souls before he was born, and the emptiness behind their eyes was always somewhat off-putting to him, and as a child he associated it with why he was constantly shuttled off to governesses, why his parents just seemed so uninterested in him as a person— although they were interested in him as a shiny bauble, the final piece to complete their image of a family of standing: man, wife, heir. He was on the piano when he could barely walk, taught Latin and French, brought to social functions when he got old enough to not cry when he got tired— none of these were for enrichment, they were his parents’ way of polishing him for the masses. Once he hit adolescence and his personality began defining itself, his parents began trying to get him to sell his soul to further advance their wealth and status, and he refused. Years and years of him living the curated image, of them hounding him, and he still refused; his parents weren’t as involved in raising him as they thought, and he has always seen souls as precious things. Cut to him in his late teens, he starts dating— his parents realize they can use this. For years, any partner he would have would either be tempted out of their soul by his parents, after which he would fall out of love with them, or socially ruined if they refused. Then there were the more casual flings, for when Thomas didn’t want the emotional tax that came with a relationship— even then, oftentimes the people he slept with just used that for gossip points, or to gain a social standing. Years pass, Thomas gets sick of what going against his parents costs (even if he doesn’t have a partner they can threaten, he is entirely reliant on them, they’re not dying anytime soon, and they regularly remind him of those facts), he stops getting with people altogether until Atlas stumbles into his life and (accidentally) sweeps him off his feet.

Now? Thomas went from ‘always somewhat threatened by’ to ‘utterly fucking terrified of’ his parents, because he has someone to lose again, someone he adores with every part of himself. Every time they send him and invite to a gala or dinner he goes, every time they request he brings Atlas as his +1 he does, because even though if he had his way he would never see them again, the very thought of ignoring his parents fills him with dread— he knows what they can do, he’s seen it firsthand. He’s a generally put together person until the topic of devils or soul trade comes up, or he and Atlas are invited somewhere as a couple, in which case he will need to make an active (and often unsuccessful) effort not to panic— but the panic rarely shows, of course, his parents made sure to raise him to always act proper no matter how he felt. Hell, he can’t even officially move in with Atlas, because he knows that if he left the townhouse his parents gave him for a scholar’s apartment the consequences would be dire (the pair get around this by spending periods of weeks or months in each other’s homes, but that has shifted to Thomas simply spending stretches of time at Atlas’ apartment).

[vampire-sugar]

Reading QOTD post! I’ve only got two chapters left to finish this thing… the story has picked back up again and I’ll probably finish today but had some things I wanted to post about. In sum it’s gotten interesting again but also Anne says some very wild things about the global south that takes me out of the story.

Thoughts and spoilers under the cut.

Cw: mentions of rape

Finished the story of the twins conclusion chapter…

The story picked back up again!! Khayman keeps proving himself a horrible character!! And Anne should never write about non-Western countries ever!! Let the book speak for itself…

Quotes that made me write ??? in the margins:

Lestat, reading the mind of one of the men he’s about to kill.

“And a savage hatred of the women rose out of him, replete with images of rape and retribution that made me smile, and yet I understood. Rather completely I understood. So easy to feel that contempt for them, to be outraged that they had dared to become the enemy, (…) they, the women!”

Khayman when the King and Queen are getting attacked by villagers + spirits, who at this point supposedly hates them for making him rape the twins:

“It was Khayman, loyal steward to the King and Queen, who snatched up a torch and went to the aid of his master and mistress.”

Lestat, about the indigenous Haitians meeting European colonizers:

“Not a single blood descendant remains of those peaceful beings who had breathed this balmy air, (…), and thought their visitors gods perhaps, who could not but return their kindness.”

Lestat, talking about how Akasha would need the help of other vamps to fulfill her vision:

“How can you begin without them? I mean really begin, not with these backward villages, I mean in the cities where the people will fight.”

And again:

“…those poor villages we’ve conquered, they are the same as they’ve been for thousands of years.”

Those poor villages are hopeless and unimportant, got it, thanks Lestat/Anne.

Maharet talking about Mekare being in South America:

“Centuries perhaps before man had penetrated the southern reaches of the jungle continent, Mekare had come ashore there (…). How long had she wandered among birds and beasts before she’d seen a human face? Had it been centuries, or millennia, this inconceivable isolation? Or had she found mortals at once to comfort her, or run from her in terror?”

Included that last part in the quote bc it’s as if Maharet hadn’t just said that first part of how, according to her, South America was uninhabited for centuries after the time of the twins.

Anyway, I did like the part where Maharet tells them all about The Great Family, and all the vamps are moved. It is moving, to see that after all the Twins and their people have been through, their family survived. (Let us forget about the marrying within the families part).

The Story of the Twins Conclusion chapter ends with Lestat arriving at the house, meaning that the Queen is probably also there.

They are going to try and reason with the Queen to convince her that what she’s doing is bad or whatever (which obviously it is, she’s bringing more death and destruction to places already riddled with it in order to create an empire of her own) in a way that Lestat was unable to articulate. Obviously it is clear at this point that she doesn’t actually care about ridding the world of oppression etc but I don’t like how the “moral of the story” for lack of better term is going to be like “this is why we should not interfere with human problems” or what Lestat pretty much said already, that the poor and war torn countries have always been that way and there’s nothing to do to change it, it’s just how the world works. When actually what Akasha says is so true —>

Lestat thinks that all the tragedies that Haiti has faced is “their destiny; their world; they who are human”. And Akasha replies:

“And what are we? Are we useless? How do we justify what we are! How do we stand back and watch what we are unwilling to alter?”

But Akasha is evil and a liar so… I doubt there will be a VC character who thinks this and actually believes it unfortunately…

Anyway, very excited to be done with this one and move on to the next. I am so determined to get to at least TVA before May 12th but given the pace at which I have read this book… i might be delusional lol.

Bonus prediction:

This might be like obvious at this point but I think the way they are going to kill Akasha without killing themselves is by having Amel transfer to Lestat. Is this why he’s like for real called the prince later? Probably.



[shinji-hibiki]

passes microphone to u tell us ur shinji ships

Oh boy. oh bouyyyyyyyy.

Ok anyone super familiar with me knows that my #1 shinji romance is shinji/hakupo tsukishiro. i had seen both of them used separately in an ancient utau medley video. neither of their voicebanks were used very well. but i was obsessed with their designs. they were my favourites out of the bunch and contrasted so well w each other so i made them duet suki kirai . they don’t have super concrete personalities so it’s really fun to imagine them as a silly ‘opposite-type’ romance where they endearingly bother each other and act as each other’s grounding force. Even more fun if you consider a UTAUniversity or similar setting where shinji is a rowdy and delinquent band club member and hakupo is a carefree, slacker-type guy :*]

I’m surprised I’m not more into shinji/nitarou otodamaya because that’s definitely the most ‘canon’ character duo. It’s fun to imagine them as childhood friends who are really close and not afraid to be affectionate w each other… and since im a gay guy with a bad habit of crushing on friends i know that theres definitely some kind of deep-seated longing in one or both parties. Maybe they had something once but continued on as friends. Maybe they fooled around one night and never spoke of it again. Maybe nothing has happened yet but it inches closer. But I definitely enjoy their dynamic of ‘reckless guy being an enabler to his voice of reason’ lolol

A pair I’ve been considering a LOT recently is shinji/piggy!!!! Piggy’s VP (buuta) is in the vkeiloid circle and thus she counts as part of their entourage. to me. I’m really bad at distinguishing whether a character pairing is platonic or romantic and dont really care at this point. Shinji and piggy in my brain go on shopping trips and dinner dates and out to karaoke. it’s interesting 2 imagine them bonding with each other over living in the city and being part of subculture scenes. I imagine they have a really compatible dynamic where they can talk really easily to each other and are just really loose and comfortable being weird together.

Shinji/soho is another really funny one I consider being similar in nature to him and piggy. Soho to me is kind of a free agent where he’s noncommittal but affectionate towards anyone he’s friends with. Shinji is probably one of soho’s closest friends where he feels comfortable being totally real to him. they’ve seen everything and love each other dearly. But like at the same time soho is also in a fucked up love triangle with nitarou and kotaro because they’re all friends and in a band and theyre all kind of gay about it

^and of course on that tangent i am also dedicated to the idea that Yes Everyone In Shinji’s Band Is Kind Of In Love With Each Other. or at display a lot of affection and are just generally really close. I like to think that they all live in a cramped apartment together with a really big bed that they all cuddle together in. I have a lot of feelings about the individual relationships between band members but i need more time to think about that before i write it down lolol. but in the meantime here’s an awesome chart showing some of it. i bet i even forgot some of it but oh well

well i hope u enjoyed reading all of that :*] its a lot but im actually really glad someone prompted me to get all my thoughts out about shinji romance. love you

[winns-stuff]

LO RANT:

Y’all this is reason number 7238 of why I do not understand why Demeter gets so much hate and why I will never take anyone who bashed her seriously. Let me tell you why before I get into anything cause this shit is absolutely ridiculous.

Before we do anything we need to discuss what criminalized Demeter in the first place which is the intervention thing. First off, she went down to the mortal realm in hopes of talking to her mother to try and come to an understanding with her and while this would’ve been an amazing time for them to talk about things and mend their bond, you know give the audience at least a speck of what the original myth was about, but instead Rachel took this as an opportunity to immediately demonize Demeter even though Hades had criminal acts against him with his parenting. He quite literally made Thanatos work and abused him verbally (possibly even physically since he’s so comfortable putting his hands on him and near him as well) but no one ever brings that up since they’ve had one conversation with each other where Hades blamed everything he inflicted on Thanatos for centuries probably on Thanatos himself since he can’t possibly be responsible.

Anyways, let me remind those who don’t know that this was a piss-poor attempt to absolutely ruin Demeter’s character since none of it made sense in the long run. Mainly because prior to this event Demeter went to go and take Persephone home after they “rebuilt” the Underworld and in this chapter apparently Persephone had balls because she stood up against her mother and put her foot down, which is pretty in character because before the intervention she literally had no problem with going off on her mom and even going as far as yelling at her. People try to equate their relationship to that of Mother Gothel and Rapunzel and it just doesn’t work with them at all, Gothel did not care about Rapunzel and only made sure she was even alive for her hair since it was the only thing keeping her alive. I suppose you could say that since Demeter’s source of happiness is Persephone that they have a similarity there but it’s kind of a weird statement since Demeter adores Persephone because that’s her daughter, if she hated her people would think she’s a bad mother and plus mothers are supposed to love their children unconditionally that’s literally the backbone of motherly instincts and such. Next one would be about Gothel and Demeter keeping both Persephone and Rapunzel inside of the tower away from others, this is also pretty weird since Demeter never isolated Persephone and she was always surrounded by the very nymphs that she claims to care for a lot, Demeter’s goal was never to hide her it was to protect her and obviously she would try and keep a close eye on her when an underaged Persephone gets tricked into kissing Ares on her land out of her sight, like Demeter didn’t just decide that it was time to randomly keep nymphs around her that very situation of her young daughter being preyed on by someone older made her do that. Unlike Gothel who literally made Rapunzel socially inadequate because she kept her away from EVERYONE she never even got the chance to touch grass let alone talk to someone that wasn’t her, they’re not the same in the slightest. Nothing about their comparison makes sense.

But away from that and back to the episode, once again Persephone stands up to her mother and basically speaks for Hades while he stands there in creepy protest of Persephone returning home which I don’t even know why she wouldn’t want that since she had to deal with traumatic things happening to her both in the Underworld and Olympus, the only time I feel like she’s had good memories (except the AOW of course) was in the mortal realm. Anyways, Hades was absolutely furious at even the word “home” coming from Demeter’s mouth which makes me feel like if anything he’d be the one having an intervention for Persephone to convince her to never leave let’s be real. Not only that but Demeter didn’t yell or force Persephone to do anything, yes they argued but they always bump heads like this and even afterwards Demeter just left it wasn’t like she took Persephone with her or anything she just left peacefully. Not much about this interaction screams emotionally abusive mother or at least to me it doesn’t, there should’ve been much bigger signs if so because I feel more like this is just a rebellious teen vs mom conversation yet nothing too serious other than a disagreement. So knowing all of this the intervention shit did not make sense at all, nothing about it was in character for the both of them and their dynamic never showed them like this. It’s so insane how people really nodded their heads and believed that this was how they always were when it wasn’t, in that scene Persephone couldn’t even defend herself or speak up instead she broke down and cried which is understandable for the situation but it makes no sense since we’ve seen their previous reactions be completely opposite of what we’re shown now. I know people don’t like thinking critically but y’all couldn’t have actually thought this made sense, it was probably a lot of excuses and convincing made I’m sure.

Anyhow onto the main topic I know I’ve been stalling, many people got mad at Demeter for trying to dress Persephone in white clothing like she’s always worn which she isn’t wrong that woman willingly dresses in white all the time there’s quite literally no other color in her wardrobe except for that. But everyone took this as very abusive and manipulative which I would’ve agreed with if they had the same energy towards every other character in this story who also forced Persephone to wear white… But I don’t see any commotion for that. For example everyone applauded Hera for forcing Persephone to wear a dress she picked out herself on her damn wedding day and they completely forgot how genuinely messed up it is with the context of the story. Not only did this woman insist on giving Persephone a grand coronation despite her pleas for a simple one, she completely shamed Persephone for even thinking about dressing herself for once and made her put on a dress that she picked out herself not even caring about if Persephone wanted to wear it on the most special day of her life essentially according to her. But let’s not forget literally YESTERDAY because we know LO doesn’t do time skips Hades referred to her pet name in front of her which he’s probably used during his cheating montage with her for CENTURIES, why would Persephone even accept the idea of Hera dressing when she knows about their history together. I genuinely felt like throughout the wedding it was Hera actually being married to Hades and not Persephone because it seemed like each and every word Hades said to Persephone she took it for herself which isn’t really that shocking since Hera has literally been living vicariously through Persephone and making her follow the path that she’s probably wanted for herself.

I seriously do not understand why everyone accuses Demeter for doing that when they praise Hera who literally did everything in her power to get her niece together with her ex- fling, and it seems like it maximized to a thousand when he put up boundaries. The whole situation is very disgusting and creepy.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Me: wow, i should write a few paragraphs based on this art I like

Me: **an hour and a half later, with an angst wridden character study** haha I may have gone overboard.

Eh, at least it’s good for the Bouncer Au I’ve been working on.

Jazz, desperately reading resources for helping out children in traumatic situations, veterans of wars who deal with ptsd, people who deal with near death experiences. Nothing perfectly matches their situation, but she’s doing her best.

She wants to help her brother.

A lot of the advice tries to get her to put him in a safe place, but there’s nowhere safe. Ghosts kept coming and she can’t stop it.

She tries to make sure that home is safe- she cooks dinner or picks up pizza some nights. But her parents keep bringing weapons to the table, or making comments about dissecting ghosts.

Can’t they see the way Danny flinches at it? Can’t they see the way that he smiles and laughs to try and hide the way his body tenses in fear? Can’t they see how when Jazz redirects the conversation he relaxes a bit?

They can’t see the way that Danny only ever unwinds once they’ve left the room.

Still, Jazz tries to help. She gets him out of the house, encouraging him to schedule time with his friends. She bandages his cuts, ices his bruises, studies first aid with a fervor that makes her teachers proud.

“At least she’s finally studying something useful.” They say. “Moved on from trying to dissect everyone’s heads. Maybe she can make some friends now.”

Jazz doesn’t have time for friends. Between homework, school, and taking care of Danny, she barely gets enough time to sleep at night. Besides, people have never really liked her. Daughter to the freakish Fentons. Interested in your thoughts and mind, because she wants to dissect it. She doesn’t laugh at jokes, she doesn’t watch tv, she doesn’t act like a teen.

Jazz has tried desperately to fit in. No matter what she does, she always seems to fall short. She’s tried making friends, but no one seems to share her interests. She’s tried engaging in more popular things, but it feels fake to her, like a facade.

Then there was Johnny, who accepted her for who she was. Johnny, who gave her gifts and compliments and treasured her. Johnny, who made her heart flutter.

She knew she was moving a bit fast with Johnny, but it just felt so good. She was a teenager, she was allowed to have a little fun, get a boyfriend. Finally, she was normal.

Until Danny snapped her out of it. Showed her that Johnny wanted to use her to get his girlfriend back. Johnny with all his sweet words and loving touches had never truly loved her. Never wanted her.

She was a fool for thinking someone could want her like that.

Jazz just had to make the best of what she had. She had a brother, who she loved.

She had a brother who was always in danger. Who would come home with scrapes and wounds. A brother who had already almost died, and who she needed to protect to make sure Danny never really died.

Danny desperately needed his older sister. It felt good to be needed by somebody. Danny loved her, so she based her life around supporting him.

He needed her to be there for him.

Jazz loved her brother, so she always put him first.

It's fair to assume that these kids may have some trauma- (also yay get to draw the trio's lineup yippee been wanting to do that)

and ok I'll admit, I might have gone a bit crazy with the blood but- ok I have a background in Warrior Cats which can get gorey and blood is honestly kinda fun to draw-