#i can't stress my love enough

[gingermintpepper]

There are many things people expect from one called 'God of Blood'. Always, the first thought is the blood of war, the blood of violence, the blood of the weak shed for the goals of the strong. Ares doesn't think of the blood of battle at all. When he thinks of blood, he envisions the many tied knots of blood bonds and bonds forged in the blood of battle. Blood sons and blood daughters, blood brothers and battle sisters, blood oaths and blood vengeance - he watches over them all and keeps close each one of these bonds.

One cannot begrudge his displeasure then when he realises he cannot tell Leto's offspring apart just by looking at them.

It was easier when it was just Artemis. Dark hair curled about her shoulders, a fierce mien whenever Father summons her to the mountain, a scattering of bones and blood shed whenever she was disturbed; the eldest child of Leto was a wild thing, sharp toothed with sharper claws always at the ready. There's whispers of her being a twin, of her other half being made to crawl on their belly as penance for their sin of god-slaying but Ares pays it little mind. What twins look alike among their number? Even dog litters are born distinct with all their unique markings inlaid in their fur. Artemis' twin too would be much more than their sister's mirror image.

Pouring over his list now, he wishes anything about Phoebus Apollo was that simple.

Mirror image did not begin to describe it. The twins were the same height, the same build, had the same colour and texture hair, ate the same raw food and drank the same amount of nectar. There was no difference in how they dressed, no difference in the company they kept, no variance in the weapons they used. There are some days Ares still cannot believe Phoebus will grow into a man and not some nymph with the way his ears have that slender point. He watches them now, sitting together beneath a shady palm and stringing their bows in an uncanny unison and curses because he still cannot tell them apart. What use is his skill in knowing blood when they both have the same damn blood running through their veins? What bond is there to sense when they are tied so tightly together, Ares can scarcely tell brother from sister?

He sighs. Unadorned and completely alone, the only way to know who is who is to speak to them. He'll have to find more ways to tell them apart from a distance. Surely they cannot stay this similar all the rest of their immortal lives.

[beatx-mavie-archangelx]

"pronouncing 'Þerindë' as 'Serindë' is not that big of a deal" just say you've always been called right your whole life.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Staying alive - Dante and his s/o

It works, you can't tell me otherwise!

Devil May Dance - Stayin' Alive, by Bee Gees

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Oh, hellish imps. One of your least favorite demons. It doesn't help that they managed to chain you to a chair at the local Disco - luckily, Dante will surely be there to save the day. And to dance.

Author's Note: I friggin' love this song, thanks so much anon for throwing this with Dante here, it works like a charm!! I almost screamed when I saw it xD My mom is a HUGE Bee Gees fan, so I listen to their songs all the time since I was born hahahaha

I've been writing this one since you guys sent me the songs, but as I mentioned before, my health got in the way as always. I'm managing my energy and a bunch of personal issues that appeared the last couple of months, so I decided to finish this one and focus on the Halloween specials of this year! Fret not, though. I'm keeping all your suggestions and I'll write them - it's just gonna take longer than I expected "^^ Also, there's a throwback here to a very special Devil May Dance, hope you guys like it!

Well, out of all the situations you could have found yourself in, that would be your most unexpected one.

It was a stupid mistake, really. A step in a wrong place, a weaker grip on your sword, a miscalculated attack from an enemy. When you least expected, there you were, caught by a bunch of hellish imps, tied to a chair on the local Disco in town, of all places.

With the imps, well, imping around as all those annoying little creatures used to do.

They were one of your least favorite types of demons, that you had to be honest with yourself.

“You know, if you keep doing that, you’re gonna end up breaking it, stupid little thing.” You said with a sigh, head boringly held by one of your hands.

“Says the big bad devil hunter tied to a chair!” The imp taunted back, still smacking the amplifier. You could kick it into oblivion and make it fly to the next country without a plane, but with those chains you were really useless. You sighed again.

“That’s an amp, you buffoon. Its purpose is to amplify sound, if you want something to happen, you have to put some music on, jerk.” Yes, Vergil’s vocabulary got to you – then again, the best way to describe those demons was ‘buffoon’. Vergil’s colorful vocabulary did have a purpose.

“Blah blah blah – talking too much for someone in your situation!” The room exploded in a bunch of high-pitched devilish laughs and you could only roll your eyes.

“Honestly, I hope that thing breaks and electrifies you. That will serve you as a lesson, you moron.”

As if words had power, the thing immediately broke on the hellish imp hands and sent a wave of electrifying shock through its body – making it shake viciously and drop the thing immediately as it fell to the ground with the tongue sticking out of the mouth and mumbling something while unconscious. The other imps stared at you as you smiled with pride – as if you had actually done something.

“Told ya.” You perked on your chair, looking as proud as you could in that situation. Your weapons were tossed on the other side of the room – and you had already gone through the suffering of watching those buffoons playing around with your stuff until they got bored. “Keep messing around and you’ll all end up dead by stupidity.”

Suddenly, a very well-known bass line started playing – followed by a guitar, a set of lights dancing around the club and the colorful squares on the ground starting their own choreography. You raised one eyebrow, trying to understand what was going on and, really, why the Disco started functioning all of a sudden.

“WOOOHOOOOOO!!!!” Until you saw an imp at the sound booth, messing with a bunch of wires, spinning on one of the office chairs – that definitely didn’t belong to the DJ.

Well you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around Since I was born

Well, well, there it was. Stayin’ Alive. Quite fitting, if you had to say, given your situation. Quite ironic too – and if Destiny really was a humanoid entity, you wanted to have a serious talk to it, because why in all hells it had to be joking around with you that much?

“And now it’s alright, it’s ok, and you may look the other way…” You started muttering the lyrics, lightly tapping your foot on the colorful ground. If that song didn’t remind you of your red devil, you didn’t know what would.

Smiling to yourself, you forgot the imps for a while. You could almost see Dante at the Devil May Cry, barefoot on a lazy Saturday, dancing around the floor of the shop while you giggled at his huge desk. He had some great moves and was definitely showing off now that he had someone to dance to – you were reading, comfortably settled on his big chair, until the jukebox started playing Bee Gees and Dante couldn’t stop himself from dancing.

You didn’t last long with your book though: your red devil grabbed your hands, leading you to the center of the shop; your very own dance floor. You never really talked much about that with Dante, but you were quite certain he didn’t have many opportunities to go out dancing and have fun – even if he was the most fun-loving guy you had ever met in your life. He was a Sparda, after all, and you knew how much Dante avoided being around people so he wouldn’t put them in any sort of danger. You could almost see him dancing alone at the Devil May Cry for so many years – probably watching Saturday Night Fever on that sorry old television of his, copying Travolta’s moves and learning it all only to have fun… By himself. But now, he had a partner to share that with – and you could see in the brightness of his smile how much Dante enjoyed it.

Both of you waited a whole lifetime to start enjoying the things you had dreamed about for so long.

You snapped out of your golden memories, though, when you heard a shot and a loud sound of something falling on the ground. Furrowing your brows, you looked to the other side of the room and, lo and behold, those hellish pestering things were messing with your stuff again while prancing around to the sound of disco music.

That was something you never thought you would see in your life.

“Oi, put that down! You’ll end up breaking it!” You pointed at the imps joking around with your guns, but they only made funny faces and flipped you back as a response. You just stared at them with contempt in your face, having almost no expression but a very annoyed one. “I swear, I’m gonna hang you all by your feet when I get rid of these shackles, you fucking clowns.”

Among the laughs and the music, though, another shot rang outside the club. No one really cared about it, until the door burst open because the imps outside were yeeted in – flying through the dance floor while screaming, stamping the wall of the stage right across the club and leaving a trail of blood on it as it fell dead to the floor.

Looking at the door, you couldn’t help but shake your head and smile. Bathed in the dancing lights of the Disco, Dante strutted in – sword resting on his shoulders, arms open while his free hand held one of his guns.

“Ey, you guys started the party without me?” He stopped after taking a few steps in, illuminated by the twinkling lights on the floor and the ceiling – that cocky smile plastered on his lips.

Oh, you loved that man. So much. How couldn’t you?

“Wouldn’t call this a party when I can’t dance.” You showed him your foot chained to the chair – and you could see in those sky-blue eyes, a sort of compassion mixed with love and a little bit of pity; crowned by his endeared but still convinced smile.

“No worries, babe, your man’s here to help you.” With a wink, Dante skillfully glided through the dance floor, shooting some imps on the way. They tried to block the man, but he swept the floor with the demons with a swift move from his sword, back to his shoulder with a flowy movement. “Got the wings of Heaven on my shoes, I’m a dancin’ man and I just can’t lose!”

You had to laugh at how happy Dante looked while gliding his feet on the colorful squares on the ground, spinning around to hit a couple more imps who tried to get to him. Facing you, Dante winked one more time, now keeping his sword on place and dual wielding Ebony and Ivory.

One step to the right, a shot at a flying imp. One step to the left, a shot at another devil who tried to run towards him. Keeping the groove, Dante spun again doing his old trick of shooting around the club and hitting multiple enemies at once – you ducked and covered your head, still laughing at his antics. Spinning his guns in his hands, Dante coordinated his steps, the beat of the song and the shots being fired.

Ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive – and a little pause for a choreography as he faced you, as if Dante was putting on a show for you only.

“Woohoo, get ‘em, cowboy!” You had to. Dante usually had fun while fighting, but not like he was having today – it’s not like it was a difficult or life-threatening fight, so he could afford being a lot more playful and goofy.

And you had to love goofy Dante.

A couple more shots, and the imps surrounding him were all but stunned, laying on the floor while recovering for the next round. So, Dante did what he did best.

“Stayin’ aliiiiiiiiiiiiiveeeeeeee…” Singing out loud, shaking his hips, and pointing around only to finish the phrase pointing at you.

And of course, he had to be even more over the top. As the demons got up from the floor – helping each other, fighting each other, trying to stand and walk a straight line – Dante started to walk towards you in the rhythm of the song, shaking his hips with every step only to accentuate even more every beat, as if he was a cowboy who had just laced you and now was approaching his bounty.

“Pffffft, you’re ridiculously campy, cowboy…” You couldn’t help but slightly flush, hiding your face on the hand you previously leaned on while completely bored. Well, you couldn’t say you were bored anymore.

“Guilty of all charges, sheriff!” As he approached, one imp tried to get him from behind only to be kicked on the face and thrown into oblivion by Dante’s strength in the process – those sky-blue eyes never left you, though, as well as the playful smile on his lips. “You can arrest me and throw away the key!”

“Hmmm, I might keep these chains then. Maybe I can tie you to our bed when we get home.” You had to tease him back, or it wouldn’t be you and Dante. You saw a sparkle of both fun and desire inside his eyes, as Dante let out a delighted laugh – and kicked another demon on the face.

“Ha! Now that…!” And he had to let the choreography down for a couple of seconds to turn around and shot a few more demons – spinning his dual guns in his hands before doing so, and once more to put them back into their place – but quickly turning back to you; resting one of his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his eyes would be leveled to yours. “Is somethin’ I’d love to try, sheriff. You can tie me up and love me any day, sugar.”

You would’ve quipped back if Dante hadn’t used his free hand to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a quite loving kiss – given the situation you found yourselves into. The demons were still trying to get back in shape, now that some of them had run away and some others were still insisting on keeping the Disco to themselves, but with Dante around… You didn’t have to care about demons that much.

“First, let’s cut you lose, shall we?” He still had that playful tone in his voice as he let go of your lips, but as Dante kneeled on the floor to see the shackles, his eyes turned to you with nothing but care in them. “Be careful, Imma cut it down, ok?”

You nodded with certainty and kept your feet together, straining the chains as much as you could so Dante could easily cut it with his sword and not fear hurting you in the process.

“And… You’re set free, babe.” Of course, he had to use that sultry tone he always did whenever he decided to use Lucifer or Faust while sparring with you.

And you would’ve paid more attention to that, if it wasn’t for your sheer and rather intense joy of being cut from those chains.

“Ah, freedom, at last!” You got up in a jump, making him laugh with how happy you were. “Now! Who’s the first one I’m gonna hang from the ceiling, huh?!” You had your hands on your hips, staring at the imps with such a deranged fire some of them actually screamed in terror and tumbled away, flying for their lives through the smashed door.

“Will ya look at that!” Dante clapped while laughing, watching as only a few demons remained to try to stand their ground. “I’ve never seen you scaring so many demons at once!”

“See? I’m learning!” You proudly strutted towards your gear on the other side of the room, mirroring the little show Dante put on for you before. He just stood there, hands on his hips, gladly watching you dance. “Gotta thank Vergil for being such a great example!”

“Oh, bet he’s gonna love hearing that!” With a laugh, Dante punched an imp who tried to get him by surprise – now flying away to hit another couple of demons who inadvertently tried to follow. “But hey, keep on shakin’ those hips like that, hot stuff, I might have to one up ya.”

You let out a mischievous giggle in response, now feeling even more motivated to let yourself loose on the dance floor. While checking your guns – making sure they were in one piece, all bullets where they should be, no damages – you kept moving to the rhythm, singing the lyrics you knew so well.

Dante crossed his arms, gladly watching the show you were putting on – now casually hooking your guns to your holsters and moving to check on your sword. The imps gathered together, blabbering around like screeching minions, preparing a supposedly devastating attack with all their forces combined to bring both of you down – but Dante couldn’t care less. He had a delighted smile on his lips, arms still crossed and tapping one of his feet on the floor to the beat of the song, barely holding himself still.

He guessed his lifetime of bad luck was to compensate for the one moment in his life where you appeared – out of nowhere, in the middle of a job, covered in demon blood and spite. That was the luckiest Dante had ever been and he could see that happening as all the luck he never really had.

Who could’ve guessed that after all that hell that he called his existence you out of all people would find him – and see him? Someone with a heart of gold, a soul of steel, a spirit like fire and kindness like water; who would challenge him but also complement him in all the perfect ways Dante could have never imagined.

Watching you dancing while strapping your sword on your back like he always did, turning around to wink at him and shake your hips from side to side to the beat of the song, raising your arms above your head and closing your eyes while smiling… You were better than any dream. You were his partner, his sheriff, his lover. He only wished he could’ve had an entire lifetime with you in it.

“Hoo, is it me or it’s gettin’ hotter in here, babe…?” With those words from his lips, you opened your eyes once more, trying to read what he was about to do when Dante took his sword from its holster and left it on a table.

“Dante…!” You immediately widened your eyes as he started stripping off his coat while making the most obnoxious and campy stripping dance you could have ever seen.

“What…?” Of course, being the man he was, Dante feigned innocence. You just pointed back at him – blushing like the first layers of Hell, but with a radiant smile on your lips. Honestly, he lived just to see that sight every time you decided to grace him with it. Dante would never tire to see you smile so genuinely.

“There are hellish imps here, red devil. Have some decorum.” Again. Vergil’s vocabulary had its purpose – and when it came to his twin brother, you had to admit colorful words were the best you could do to try to voice some of your exasperated feelings.

“Oh, you thinkin’ I’m gonna take it all off?” Dante pointed at himself with his free hand, his coat hanging on the other hand. He let out a hearty laugh right after. “Ha! You are gonna have to work for that, sheriff!”

You had to fall into a fit of laughter as Dante started spinning his coat on the air only to throw it away dramatically, going back to his best Saturday Night Fever dance. You didn’t know if you wanted to melt through the floor into oblivion from embarrassment or if you wanted to get into the challenge. Therefore, laughing was the only choice available, really.

You had to note, though, that the embarrassment only came from having an audience – you could still hear the imps arguing and wondered if they would end up killing each other in disagreement – because if you were both alone at the Devil May Cry… Dante would have the dance-off of a lifetime after that taunt.

“Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” You decided, even if feeling a little awkward, to mirror Dante’s dancing – pointing at him while singing, finally strutting towards your red devil.

You had your whole life to kill demons – dancing with your lover, though, was a lot more important in your book.

“Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’, and we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” Dante pointed back at you, ready to meet you in the middle. Those lyrics, though, they were quite fitting to both of you – with everything you had to go through on a daily basis, somehow, you always remained alive. Together.

There was some kind of poetry in that. At least in Dante’s point of view.

As the famous riff sang its lyrics, you finally reached each other, starting a perfectly synchronized choreography you both invented during a boring afternoon at the shop – which ended up being not so boring after all. With you dancing while perfectly mirroring him, Dante couldn’t help but have the brightest and most delighted smile on his lips – his face lighting up like the sun, barely noticing he was laughing from enjoying that moment.

The most mirroring he ever got was from a shadow doppelganger at the Temen-ni-gru – and that thing was hell bent on killing him with his own powers and tricks. Now dancing? That was a first. Something he had only seen on movies like Footloose or Grease, something he thought he would only have in the realm of daydreams. Oh, how he loved turning those into reality with you.

“Ready…” Of course, you both were very much aware you weren’t alone - the imps weren't as subtle as they thought they were. Your lives were made mostly of stolen moments like that, but it was something you would never complain about. Better to have those moments than to have nothing at all – and the imps were about to steal it away from you. Looking into those sky-blue eyes, you saw Dante’s typical spark and his smart smile on his lips, winking at you as soon as he understood what your eyes were saying. “NOW! ATTACK!”

“I’m stayin’ alive!” You and Dante sang out loud – if you could call that kind of shouting singing – as you spun on the colorful floor, taking one of your guns from your holsters. You ended up with your backs to each other, your arm by his arm, pointing the guns at the demons at the same time. “Let’s rock!”

The imps expected everything but the rain of bullets. They planned a massive attack, all of them at the same time, and still you and Dante made their forces seem like nothing but a wave of hungry mosquitoes during summer – and that because you were each holding only one of your guns.

They could barely get near you before realizing they wouldn’t be able to make it in one piece. The attack was a failure and the best option they had – for those left alive anyway – was to run. You and Dante kept shooting, hitting bullseye with every quick shot. They first screamed as a battle roar, but now they screeched in terror, fleeing from every broken door and window of the Disco – until there were only you and the red devil left.

“Well, guess we showed ‘em a lesson.” You sighed, relief washing down your spine while you put your gun back into its holster. Dante did the same, but you barely waited for him to look back to you. “Thanks for the rescue, cowboy. It was worthy of Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For a Hero.”

“Ah, don’t mention it…” But you cut his dismissive words short with a kiss.

It was intended to be a quick kiss – the types of kisses you would always use to shut him up whenever Dante started self-deprecating or playing down how much he was worth – but soon you wanted more. Stepping closer to him, you didn’t let his lips go, resting your hands on his chest while Dante, even if surprised at first, immediately laid his on your hips. The song was still going, and you both still had the fire to keep dancing, but you could take a few moments to enjoy that kiss with more heart than you intended at first.

You had every intention, though, to keep it going for as long as you could – Dante’s lips were too wonderful to be half-appreciated – but as Stayin’ Alive found its last chords, another song seamlessly started to let its golden beats and delightful guitar color the place with new rhythms and notes. Apparently, the DJ imp had figured out how to keep the whole collection of disco songs playing – and you couldn’t complain about that.

“Hey…” You parted the kiss abruptly, mirroring Dante’s smile from also recognizing the song. “It’s our song, cowboy!”

You held Dante’s hand, pulling him even further into the dance floor, while he let his head hang back with a laugh at the words he never thought he would hear in that damned life of his. Stepping closer to you, he spun you around only to catch you in his arms, dancing together the same way you used to dance at the Devil May Cry – you both giggling and singing to each other.

“Do you remember? The 21st night of September?” Oh, yes. September. The song that wrapped you both in golden dreams and shiny days – the song Dante would always run to you to have you in his arms while singing, the one you would always search his hands to hold while dancing. The one Dante never thought he would be able to have with someone else.

Dante couldn’t have another entire lifetime with you, but he could have that one – and even better than that: you could have that song together. Your song.

He could get used to the sound of that alright.

[seepingfrommyskin]

“I don’t belong with you, I never did.”

hi yes my first time posting my art here and I come bearing fanart for @hella1975 ‘s amazing atla fic The Art of Burning, you can find this specific scene in chapter 28! if you haven't read it yet I highly recommend.

(click for better quality)

[goldengrecha]

Today I'm thinking about manga versions of Maxie and Archie, because it's something... I even dont have words for it. Like. Holy fucking shit.

In the beginning, of course, they're confront each other - that's the classic, they're rivals after all, standing for different things and all that things. They're different. They're opposites. They're still strongly exist in each other lives, because of their conflict.

But then

This happens. And this IS beginning of the end, because of course they're working together - and at the moment it looks like it is only for benefits for their goals, nothing else. They will destroy each other when they will get to finish.

They're fucking irritating(/pos), it almost feels like they're drawn to each other, in any scenario, their destiny is to meet, to exist in each other lives. None of them exist alone (and when one of them do exist alone, it means that something went terribly wrong).

AND THEN THINGS JUST GO EVEN WORSE (/pos)

This panel. I don't know where to start.

Do I need start with that they're realizing they work together perfectly? Do I start with that this making them thinking they needed to work together from the beginning? Do I start with that two men, who, up until this point, was fighting with each other and conflicting, hating each other, founded in each other the best partner they ever could have? Do I start with that they're probably the best persons in each other lives?

It is already very emotional (at least for me), but with how story goes on, they're connecting more and more, becoming even more emotionally fucked up.

AND THEN THERE IS EMERALD ARC???? CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT EMERALD ARC???????

There is so much going on in emerald arc I barely can find words for describing my emotions.

This is the fucking tragedy. Because, what do you mean, they're put in situation where is only one of them can leave alive for some more time? (Remember how I said that if only ONE if them exist it means that some shit is going to happen something going to go really terrible. It either them both exist or them both don't).

What do you mean Archie is literally killed Maxie, just for chance of living a little longer?

And this is tragedy, because Archie, in the end, loses again. And now, not only he does lose in literal sense - he didn't achieve his goal, after all. He loses everything he had - his team, his life, and most importantly, he loses his only friend. He is all alone now.

Ah yeah can we talk about

This?

It's just one phrase. It has so much in it.

Not only he calls Maxie friend, not only he confess that Maxie probably the only one person which Archie was thinking as a friend, but also like.

Consider this: this isn't oras archie yet. This version of archie is cold, closed and gloomy, genuinely intimidating person. He doesn't care about his team members, it is kind of okay for him to use them as tools (which, ironically, shows even in this interaction with Maxie: after all, Archie still killed him for a chance of living a bit longer. And Archie acknowledging that he betrayed Maxie. He betrayed his only one friend). He is a cold person, but it almost seems like Maxie managed to warm him up a bit, just a little bit. This is actually incredible and, again, endlessly emotional, and I still can't stress this enough. Holy fucking shit.

Just imagine Archie at this point. Imagine, because, the best person in his life always was his rival. His rival, and maybe, even friend.

And I told about this before, but can we talk about that in distorted world they became one? It's just so symbolic. Like, Archie and Maxie from beginning were opposites, they was supporting opposite things, their goals was completely opposite. But they can't choose only one of this, because everything around them is a combination of different, sometimes opposite things. Like even the land and water in Hoenn! Exactly this combination of land and water create Hoenn as we know it, and how they know it. And they, people, who choosed only one of these things, in the end, became the one themselves - isn't this ironic? Isn't this funny? Isn't it symbolic in some way? (I also fucking love how this fusion explain in some way why when oras hits, Maxie is more like original Archie, and Archie more like original Maxie. They had explored each other minds I'm sure of it)

And finally, ORAS, part that I love the most.

Not only they both was given chance of living again, but this is literally their peak. They're working together again - and by that I mean they're working perfectly together.

They even acknowledge it themselves:

And this is so good in contrast with Ruby and Sapphire arc - back then, they too, realized and started to think they're work perfectly together, but it still was mixed with some evil fucked up shit, but here? They're working together because they (ironically), have the same goal. And they're helping each other.

They're working together perfectly, this is so good for them. And no evil bullshit this time! It's actually best versions of them in some way - because they're working together, for sake both of humanity and pokemon. They working towards happiness and safety for everyone, not choosing and prioritizing only one of them.

And they're talking to each other as if they was old friends, partners, every one of their interactions shines with this somewhat warm feeling. This is so good for them. I would even dare to say that ORAS part was the happiest moments in their lives.

And.. Then end of ORAS hits.

And, again, as classic already, it's a small panel, but how much here is.

First of all, can I point that Archie died two times, and both times he was thinking of Maxie in some way?

And both times is some kind of emotional moment for Archie: first time, he calls Maxie friend (he doesn't call him by name, but. He obviously talking about him COME ON), and second time he ask Maxie, if he would want to work together again, if they will have chance to do so. I just love seeing this progression, how Maxie became more and more dear person for Archie as time goes on, how he became more attached to him. And Maxie does too!

It is such an incredible moment filled with so much emotions, with so much sense. I love how Archie doesn't even say his question fully, but Maxie still understands him. Of course he does, because, I'm sure, even if Archie didn't ask this, Maxie still would think of it. I'm sure if none of them said this, they still would understand this wish to work together again that they both have. At this point, they are incredibly connected together, and they have only each other.

I also love this moment, because when Archie died first time, he was told that, if he will continue like this, he will end up all alone. And Archie agrees to that: he answer in the way that he is already accepted that he is alone now, and he doesn't even have Maxie by his side (I still can't get over that he really highlighted him in this speech holy fucking shit). BUT then, when he appears next time, he appears as ORAS self, and his ORAS self is very different from what he was, not only as a person, but his motivation is different, too.

He changed in some way. And he ISN'T alone, because now, Maxie is by his side again. And I can't stop thinking about how happy it probably made Archie.

And even dying, he is calm, because he isn't alone. He have Maxie by his side. His only friend.

[sanderssideswriting]

Yeah the ts crit community really is mostly on tumblr. If any crit on twitter is brave enough to call out thomas or even just ask a SIMPLE INNOCUOUS question like ‘hey whens the next sanders sides coming out’ they get dog-piled by his followers. Just now my twitter tl algorithm made some posts pop up from ppl I don’t even follow and they’re just defending thomas + his patreon and saying that we’re just angry jealous ppl who don’t understand what goes on behind the scenes for him (as if THEY do?).

I swear, the die-hard fans that are still left, I’m sorry, they’re not a fandom. They’re a cult. A cult of personality centered around one man, purely there to keep stroking and defending his fragile ego. They’re no better than the sw*fties or any other group of ppl driven by blind devotion, obsession and white knighthood.

Oh 100%, there's next to no ts crit community on twitter, I got curious and checked a few days ago, searching stuff like Thomas Sanders Critisism, TSS Criticism, TSS critical, stuff that's used over here and the only thing that got anything was the first, but then it was just showing stuff with "Thomas Sanders" or even just "Sanders" in the post. So it's hard to organize that kind of community, plus the die hards and Thomas being on there.

I'd say the only place the fandom is pretty active is on Twitter, and that's soley because of Thomas, because he interacts with the fans and makes it so that there's motivation to make tss stuff. You know there's a community on there for it and if you're lucky Thomas will see it and retweet it. Otherwise it's kind of a joke that the fandom is dead until it's breifly revived whenever a new episode comes out. Which then leads to parasocial relationships and the idea that somehow continues to persist that Thomas is a poor boy who can do no wrong and if he did do wrong he didn't actually know any better. Never mind he's thirty-fucking-4. And his fans are half his age.

One this I do kinda disagree with is the idea that all his die hards and current fans are like 14, which I just don't think is true, I think they were like 14 when the last proper episode came out, and are now more along the lines of like 18 or around there. He's got a lot of patrons, including 17 people who paying $125 a month, that money has to come from somewhere and I doubt it's all from allowances.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

There are only so many fanfics that use the entirety of DC as cardboard cutouts to prop up bat family characters that I can read before I go berserk.

I swear to god. Every character that has ever been shipped with a bat or coexists on the same team as a bat is owed an apology.

How many Young Justice fanfics that solely revolve around Tim must exist? How many Titans fanfics centered only on Dick? Why is it a herculean task to find a Justice League fanfic without Bruce as the main character?

And then even when you do find a fic that seems like it's balanced, everything still revolves around the bat. Like Kon, Cassie and Bart have nothing else going on in their lives except Tim and Tim's issues or thinking about Tim. Like Donna and Wally and Roy just cannot function if they aren't spending every waking moment thinking about Dick.

I'm... Guys. I'm at my limit. I swear to god. We need to make a Batman tag and surgically remove all these fics and quarantine them there. We'll keep the actual DC fics and they can do whatever the fuck they want in their own tag. It's getting ridiculous how hard it is to find fanfic that's actually DC related and isn't just 'The BatFam Show'.

[lesbian-disaster-tm]

You ever just read that fic.

And then re-read it.

And then read it again.

And again.

And again.

And it's honestly one one of the best things -published or fanfiction- you've read.

The writing?

Flawless

The characterization?

Perfect

The characters?

Queer

The angst?

Great

The comfort?

Even better

The plot?

1000/100

And you can't geek out about it with anyone cause no-one you know has read it??????

Like pleaseeeeee. I'm begging youuu. Begging.

[ducktracy]

i've been in a very "nostalgic for SpongeBob" mood lately and that's warranted a lot of reflecting on Baby Me being a Sponge fanatic and thinking of what she'd think of now. and i have to say that one of my favorite parts of doing what i do--and also the most stupidly niche--is that one of my first online hyperfixations i recall having was SpongeBob production music. i remember animating magical girl transformations in Flipnote to SPONGEBOB MUSIC. i remember feeling so smart researching all the songs and getting to hear them without any dialogue on top. very gratifying to 11 year old me. i was and am still very fixated on production music, and so i always get very excited when seeing uploads of these songs and spotting a screenshot of a scene i worked on among them. one of my favorite aspects of watching episodes premiere is seeing what music they added on top of scenes i touched. it's just neat how many facets my thankfulness for Doing What I'm Doing gets to reach. i'm never not thinking of how grateful i am to be doing what i'm doing

[rurukatt]

all i ever wanted was to learn

[melethinnil]

My wonderful @coffee-in-that-nebula sending me the most beautiful love note I have ever received for our 3rd monthiversary, leaving me sobbing of joy and scrambling not to die in the game I was playing, is one of the strongest indications to me that there is no one better than her 💕💕

[secretsofdbz]

Did @belgiamese-boy DESTROY me with an AMV for my fic A Different Baby? (mostly the Purpose and Solitude arc)?

Yes.

Very much yes.

I am crying screaming and throwing up because it's SO good and I watch it every single day

Also the lyrics because they're soooo good.

Reshape, eliminate And you'll succeed what others have failed Some deeds are better left unexplained Were you always this way? Was it out of a choice you made? You have been so wrong for so long It's getting harder to tell The depth of your ignorance won't make a bit of difference For those oblivious to the passage of time Worlds that are beyond us, surround us, they bind us The voices inside can't be denied So it goes, we have all seen it before Saving what's left but you'll never be whole Another sad story of a long lost soul You're hoping it's safe cause you buried it deep They will always reside deep within the mind Hiding down deep inside Lying in wait to take you with them to the light Take you with them to light Take you with them to light

Also new chapter is out!! 25 out of 26 for the Solitude arc.

[smile-files]

i think the main issue in arguing with zionists is that, well, they believe in zionism! if israel did deserve to exist, then the genocide and injustice in palestine could be argued for (not like it should be, but it certainly could) -- and zionists believe israel deserves to exist.

i, unfortunately, have a large amount of experience interacting (personally) with zionism and zionists. most of those i've talked to feel for the palestinians, and the violence they are facing, but they fail to realize (or they staunchly deny) the very, very active part israel and the IDF have had in that -- and how it's representative of what the nation has always done.

at the same time, they focus more on israeli hostages than palestinian ones -- and i know, of course, that these zionist jews i've interacted with are either israeli or have loved ones in israel, and so have a very personal stake in the safety of israeli hostages (which may very well be friends or family members), but i find it strange how much emphasis they put on hamas' cruelty in taking hostages while the IDF is doing the same thing (in essence; the exact details of who's doing it worse are important to note, but not relevant right now, because folks should realize that their side is being at least as cruel as the enemy's).

recently i was drawn into an argument with an israeli zionist (who, unfortunately, is very close to the action and tragedy by being israeli), and she was incredibly offended by my anti-zionism and my opposition to israel's abject cruelty to palestinian citizens, as it seemed (to her) like i was bypassing the cruelty hamas has enacted on israeli citizens -- which is very telling. i've noticed that we as jews have the tendency, whatever the situation may be, of focusing more on our pain than the pain of others, even if we are the ones hurting them. that person has every reason to be scared and hurt, and i'd be lying if i said her response wasn't at least somewhat sympathetic, but her pain in this horrible, violent conflict does not invalidate the pain on the other side. jews, throughout this recent crisis, have consistently not talked in depth about the constant losses in palestine -- am i suddenly being callous by focusing on those losses, and not our own? (YOUR PAIN AND THEIRS AREN'T MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE, YOU DOLT! sorry...)

because it all comes down to believing in israel! my mom has always told me about how beautiful it is there, about her time living on a kibbutz... and sure, it might be nice. i can't argue with that. but why is it that our nationalism for israel is so strong, so virulent? i have not seen patriots as loyal for any other country. and when you criticize israel, israelis feel like you're criticizing their entire existence -- and many non-israeli jews do, as well. because zionism has been built so deep into the modern religion! it's made to be a necessary piece! belief in it is the default!

and, from the inside looking in, i can't be surprised that many jews take anti-zionism as being antisemitic -- because, to them, israel and zionism stand as the pinnacle of safety and support for the jewish people. it is impossible to argue with them about anything above that base layer, as the base layer itself serves as a foundation: so long as a jew thinks that israel is right, deserved, and necessary, no proof will sway them into hating israel. it's just impossible, and that's very frustrating.

for me in particular, i find it very frustrating, as this single idea has turned so many people i know to support a genocidal entity. they believe in and support israel, so they stand with it now -- even if they condemn its current actions, they neglect how those actions are just an extension of its inherent existence -- whether they think israel's doing the right thing or wrong thing right now, they don't really care at the end of the day, because israel, to them, is necessary in keeping the jewish people alive. they stand with it, thinking that jews can only stand at all if they do.

but a genocidal crutch is no crutch at all: it only breaks us more. zionist jews make me so mad, and the worst part is that i could never express that to them in a way they'll understand.

[caelusproject]

"Talk to me" (Chapter 1?)

Pairing: Royalkay

Rating: SFW (minor sexual talk/thoughts, death and injury mentioned, cursing)

Wordcount: 6385

This is a fanfiction based on another fanfiction! This story takes place mostly during chapter 4 of the Jalim fanfiction "Say Nothing" by @katzenprinz and @thunderwhenhepurrs ! It's the same story but from a different point of view with a different relationship focus! Please read Gabe and Holden's Jalim fanfiction, it's seriously so good and still being written!! Go show them some love!!

(Sorry for any inconsistencies or errors I made, I tried my hardest to do my research but I'm an overworked human so mistakes are a given oof)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick patrolled through the camp, letting the slowly fading rays of sunlight elucidate his path across the sand in a deep orange. Although he kept his mind sharp enough to immediately recognize any strange sounds and movements, so much so that he pointed his gun at an innocent little shrew hiding in a bush earlier, ready to pull the trigger and feeling bad about it right away again, he noticed his mind running wild in his skull. He felt his jaw muscles tighten as he looked towards the earth underneath his boots. Those fucking monsters were probably waiting for them. Sure, this time they came in prepared and with a purpose, as much as said purpose made him want to scream into the sky in a blind rage until his vocal chords snapped. Of course they would send them back in. Of course these idiots would want to know more about these creatures out of greed and blind thirst for knowledge. Of course Eric would run his mouth during the interrogations and mention how intellectually advanced they were.

But no matter how much Nick wanted to find a scapegoat to unleash his frustration and anger upon, Eric wasn't the one. Even if he hadn't talked about the vampires the way he did, those hazmat-freaks would have still gotten curious about them. The colonel didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Nicks rage. Or at least not to a certain degree, after all it was Caelus that led them all down there in the first place.

“Wasn't his intention, though,” Nick reminded himself quietly as he circled around the tend where the newbies bunked, checking for anything noticeably concerning but ultimately finding nothing unusual. So he decided to keep on walking around the campsite until his short lived patrol was over.

Nick had quite some time to reminiscent about his treatment of the colonel. Sure, he had plenty a reason to hate that mans guts. Eric led them into this wasteland. His program mistook an ancient underground temple for an enemy storage facility. Nick was dating Eric's wife.

And yet there was a spark of admiration for the colonel blooming inside Nicks chest. One he tried to ignore as best as he can. Eric had saved him multiple times down there, putting his own life at risk to protect Nick of all people, which took a lot of strength of character and courage to do. Of course Nick, who was aware of his own gentle and sensitive nature, would be unable to shrug those acts off like it was nothing. He was merely grateful, Nick reassured himself.

The marine kicked a pebble across the field and sighed. Just as he was about to turn on his heels, he had wandered a tiny bit too far from site and would most likely get an earful from either Jason or Eric for it later, he heard his name being called from somewhere behind him. Elliott was jogging up to him and waving.

“Sargent Kay, thank you for taking over my patrol for a minute. I'm back now so you can return to your tent.” the young man nodded at Nick with a friendly smile. Nick mirrored the gesture.

“Sure. I've got nothing to report, if you don't count the poor traumatized shrew I almost shot.”

Elliott pulled his brows together in a sympathetic way.

“Poor thing,” he commented and then joked, “I'll make sure to apologize to it on your behalf.”

Nick didn't bother holding back a chuckle, “I would be most grateful.”

On his was back into the middle of their campsite Nick followed the tracks that their truck had left in the sand earlier with his eyes. Jason had been sent off with a few of the new guys to fetch Zain and bring him here. A sigh escaped Nicks lips when he was walking past the tent where Jason, Salim and himself were supposed to be bunking. Salim had decided to retreat to their tent after Nick was asked to jump in for Elliott's patrol for a minute, files of the inventory in hand so he could read through them to get his mind off of things. Nick couldn't blame him. He had seen the face Salim made whenever he talked about his son down in the tunnels, their first encounter ended in a conversation about how Salim wasn't supposed to be on his mission to fight some marines and instead spend Zain's birthday in the comfort of their home. A strong feeling of empathy flooded through Nick and he found himself going back and forth on whether he should enter and at least ask Salim if he needed anything. Against his better judgment he turned away and decided that some quiet might help him a lot more.

“Sargent Kay!”

Rachel's voice pulled Nick out of his train of thought. He looked up to see the CIA agent wave at him from the colonels tend, motioning for him to come in. The corner of Nick's lips curled up slightly as he looked at the woman, pure affection racing through his veins at the sheer sight of her, and he jogged up to her, entering through the opening.

“How's he holding up?” Rachel asked as Nick walked past her. The marine shrug with his shoulders.

“Mmh, as well as one can expect from him.” Nick replied and took a look around the tent. Eric was sitting at the fold-up desk with his back turned to his wife and her lover, typing away at a laptop. A few feet next to the desk was a cot, certainly bigger than the ones in the marine's tents, even garnished with two pillows and a blanket. Quite the luxury in the field.

“I figured he would be nervous,” Rachel sighed and sat down on the cot, her gaze trailing off into the distance, “I hope Jason can get the boy here without trouble. If all goes to plan then they should arrive here soon.”

Eric nodded, but didn't verbally participate in the conversation, eyes still glued to the screen in front of him. Nick shifted his weight, unsure on what to do with his body.

“He'll manage. As much as he is a jarhead, Jason is also capable and understanding of Salim's situation. Although I wouldn't be surprised if he returned with a few bruises here and there.” he joked. To Nicks surprise it was Eric who huffed a laugh.

“I hope not. We need our Lieutenant in good condition,” the colonel shifted in his chair to look at Nick and nodded towards the cot, “you don't have to stand there all awkwardly. Sit down.”

Nicks eyebrows twitched upwards. It shouldn't feel so strange to him to be offered a seat on Rachel and Eric's bed, considering they spent a few days together stuck in a tiny room with Jason and Salim, sleeping on thin mattresses with barely any space between their bodies.

Still, having Eric of all people tell him to take a seat on their bed caused the spark inside Nicks chest to glimmer a little more. Nick glanced over at Rachel, who scooted over for him, and sat down. The blanket covering the cot was surprisingly comfortable considering the circumstances.

“It's gonna feel weird.”

Rachel and Eric both looked at Nick, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. The marine waved his hand towards the cot.

“Sleeping in a different tent, I mean. Guess the last few nights have left an impression on me. I'm already used to cuddling until I fall asleep.” he snickered and shrug his shoulders, a slight pain shooting through his upper body from where his wound on his shoulder was still in the process of healing. Neither of his superiors replied right away, instead Rachel tilted her head until it was leaning against Nicks arm. They spend a few heartbeats like this and Nick noticed Eric watching them with an unreadable, but not at all hostile, expression.

“I have to admit, it was nice sleeping between you two,” Rachel muttered, her lips a thin line, “it certainly helped keeping the nightmares at bay.”

Nick nodded in agreement with Rachel and breathed softly, grabbing Rachel's hand in a tight but loving grip and kissed the top of her head. Eric tilted his head like he always did when he was deep in thought about something, his gaze growing distant, and Nick found himself wondering what might possibly go through the colonels mind. A long moment of silence filled the tent, broken by the keys of the laptop ticking away again after Eric flinched slightly, something Nick would have easily overlooked had he not been staring at the man for a few heartbeats (something Nick tried not to think about too much). Although it wasn't just Nick who noticed.

“What's wrong?” Rachel asked Eric in a tone of voice Nick barely ever heard out of her mouth, a kind of concern that she always tries to control, but said control always broke when it came to Eric for reasons Nick could only imagine having to do with the bond of love they shared. Even though it was unlike Rachel to be so openly overprotective of someone. The colonel frowned in response.

“Don't worry. It's just,” he sighed, “the usual.”

“'The usual'?” Nick repeated, raising an eyebrow. Rachel closed her eyes as she exhaled loudly.

“Does it hurt?”

It felt like lightning struck Nick right then and there as realization hit him like a truck.

Eric's leg.

The colonel ran a hand through his blonde locks, a small sigh escaping his lips and he nodded slightly. Like she was waiting for this moment all this time, Rachel jumped up and approached Eric, reaching out with a hand to delicately caress his arm. Her brown eyes were filled with worry and a hint of guilt that left Eric clearly feeling uneasy.

“Maybe you need a break. Do you need to take it off?” she asked gently but Eric violently shook his head in response.

“I'm okay, really. I promise.” his voice was a lot harsher than he probably intended for it to sound. Rachel took a step back, her expression still full of worry and guilt and even Nick felt forced to sit up straight when he heard the colonel's tone of voice. Eric's pair of amber eyes wandered back and forth between Nick and Rachel and he blinked a few times, a hint of regret burrowed in them. He flinched again as he got up from his chair and took a few steps through the tent with no real destination.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.” Eric apologized and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted all of a sudden, tired of the pressure of the mission ahead and the posture he had to uphold in front of the higher ups. If Nick didn't know better, he'd say that Eric was tired of fighting. There was a painful tenseness in Eric's shoulders that filled Nick with the same, or at least similar concern as Rachel.

The marine chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, unsure with himself about what he could do to lighten up the situation and make the colonel feel better. Then he got up and put a hand on Eric's shoulder, who immediately relaxed a little bit under the touch.

“Want me to take a look?” he asked quietly and tapped the shoulder straps of his backpack with a faint smile, remembering the role he had adopted despite his inexperience in the role of field medic. But if it meant helping out the people around him, then he would do his absolute best to make them feel better. Especially the ones he considered closest. “It's my duty as nurse Nick after all.”

Before Eric could react however they heard the engine of a truck getting closer. All three of them bolted towards the tent flap, looking out to see the dark campsite illuminated by the trucks headlights approaching quickly, zooming across the sand until it came to a screeching halt in the center of camp. Although it was quite dark, despite the few UV lamps they had set up as best as they could to keep potential stray vampires at bay, Nick could still make out Jason's face in the back of the truck, sitting next to a young man whose resemblance to Salim was undoubtedly. Zain looked terrified but also strangely curious. As soon as the truck came to a full halt, Mosson and Palmer jumped out and Nick fully expected them to guide Zain out of the truck or at least walk away for some rest after a successful mission. The fact that they immediately raised their guns and pointed them at the boy, causing Jason to react with his own gun pointed back at them, sent an ice cold shiver down Nicks spine.

“What the fuck-” Rachel exclaimed but Eric was quick to react. He went into a hasty jog, most likely held back from full-on sprinting by the phantom pain he tried (and mostly succeeded) to fight back, and shouted at the marines.

Luckily, his authority seemed to knock some sense into the newbies as they got a verbal beat down by both Jason and Eric before turning on their heels and retreating towards their tent. Nick and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief in unison and the marine thanked Eric in his mind for being so quick to react.

He watched Zain jump off the back of the truck and then he noticed the flap to one of the tents open. Salim stuck his head out and immediately froze in disbelief and amazement when his eyes fixated on his son. The heartfelt scene unfolding in front of everyone almost brought a tear to Nicks eye. The way Zain and Salim clung to each other. Now Nick definitely felt the connection between father and son and cursed under his breath when remembering what Salim had to go through to get to this point. It was unfair and cruel.

Rachel bumped her elbow against Nicks side, smiling up at him. Nick blinked the tear away and shrug his shoulders with a grin. Meanwhile, Salim pulled Zain into their tent, hopefully able to talk in private.

Then they noticed Jason and Eric talking while they unloaded the truck and as they both brought the bags towards the colonel's tent, Eric yelled an order through the dark of the campsite.

“Everyone off to your tents! Radios stay on in case of emergencies!”

The pair arrived at the tent and Jason dropped three heavy bags in one corner, nodding towards Rachel and Nick.

“Should've guessed.” he smirked as he locked eyes with Nick, who immediately noticed the new bruise blooming on Jason's face.

“Could say the same about you,” Nick joked, pointing at the damage, “too bad I didn't take a bet. I could've made bank.”

Jason play-kicked at Nick's foot but missed the other marine by an inch or so. Rachel and Eric looked at the bags, sharing a confused expression.

“Well, too bad we don't have any money, babe,” Rachel absentmindedly commentated on Nick's joke but then turned her attention towards Jason, face as serious as usual, “the contract said two bags total.”

“Don't worry about it. One's for Salim. But I got something else that the boy needs help with.” Jason approached Rachel, a tense expression adorning his facial features like something was truly at stake here. Rachel pulled her eyebrows together but showed willingness to listen. She nodded slightly and grabbed Jason's arm to lead him into a corner of the tent so they could talk quietly.

Nick and Eric watched them whisper for a few seconds until Eric shifted his weight and winced like he did before. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and leaned against the desk to get the pressure off of his leg. In a panic, Nick reached out to catch Eric, afraid he might fall over, but he held back from touching him once Eric was securely leaned against the desk. Nicks instantaneous willingness to support him clearly took Eric by surprise.

“You don't look good, colonel,” Nick whispered with a warm but worried voice, “please, let me check you out.”

Eric started to shake his head and opened his mouth but Nick wouldn't let him protest this time.

“Eric. You're in pain. Rachel can see it, I can see it. Let us help you, please!”

There was that spark again. It glimmered like a warm fireplace in Nicks chest, it felt comforting and familiar, and it only increased in it's intensity when the blonde man locked eyes with Nick. There was a hint of admiration in Eric's amber eyes.

Thankfulness.

Tenderness.

Eric was a few inches taller than Nick, Nick's eyes were almost at the same level as Eric's nose and the marine blinked hard when he realized that his gaze wandered down towards Eric's lips for a fraction of a second. Luckily, the colonel didn't seem to notice.

Nick didn't want Eric to think that his intentions were not about medical care, but more about coming on to him. Even if the hint of a desire to run his fingers through Eric's soft hair popped up in his head for a split second.

“... alright.”

Nick immediately pushed his backpack off his shoulders but Eric held up a hand.

“Later,” Eric whispered, glancing over at Jason and Rachel who were clearly about to end their quiet discussion, “and take a look at her too, please. She wouldn't dare show it, but her arm worries me just as much.”

“Mh, will do.” Nick agreed. Rachel truly never showed any pain. She was stoic, strong. But Nick always thought it was a mask she put on to protect herself from others, but perhaps mostly from herself. He wondered if she built that hard shell around herself because of her and Eric's accident. No matter how much she tried not to show it, she still felt guilty and hurt and was trying everything she could to stay in control over her emotions. She was running away from something just like Nick was.

Nick felt the urge to hold Rachel close and not let go.

To protect her from any kind of cruelty the world might try and fling at her.

Kiss her until her soul was healed.

Let the world know what he felt for her.

Hold their hands through hell and back.

'Their hands' Nick repeated in his head, freezing up inside like he was a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Instead of an annoyed parent, though, he was the one who caught himself.

“Earth to Nick,” Jason snapped his fingers in front of Nick's face, pulling him out of his train of thought. Nick blinked so his eyes could focus on the Lieutenant in front of him.

“Yeah?”

“Salim and Zain might take a while to catch up,” Jason said, “with our Colonel's permission I will do one last patrol through camp. Give 'em time to talk. Wanna come with?”

“Go ahead,” Eric answered Jason's indirect question, but gave him an apologetic smile, “but I need Sargent Kay here a little longer. Think you can handle this patrol by yourself?”

Jason chuckled as he turned on his heel to walk out the tent.

“Yessir!”

None of them said a word until Jason's footsteps were certainly out of earshot. It was Rachel who broke the silence first.

“Well. That's something.” she mumbled, her expression still as stern as when she was still talking to Jason. Eric leaned forward as much as his body would let him.

“He sounded serious. What is this 'special request' all about?”

“He didn't give me the details. Emphasized I need to make sure Zain will actually get through to London and that Zain was carrying something important.” she muttered and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Nick made a confused sound.

“The hell does that mean? Did Zain kill somebody or some shit?”

Rachel shrug her shoulders and then turned to her husband, a different kind of sternness in her eyes.

“No idea. Whatever, you are more important right now.”

Eric swallowed and raised his hands defensively.

“I know, Rach, I know. I promised Nick that he can take a look at it already. You can calm down now.” he explained frantically, to which his wife stuck out her jaw.

“You better.” she replied, grabbed Eric by the hand and pushed him onto the cot. Like making sure he wouldn't change his mind midway through, she sat down half beside him, half behind him and put her hands on both of his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

Eric sighed.

“Okay, okay. I promise, I'll stay right here.”

Nick didn't bother hiding the chuckle that escaped his throat. His Colonel looked like a boy being put into his place at the doctors office by his mother. Still grinning he opened his backpack, making sure whatever tools and medication he might need was close enough to grab.

“Permission to run my hand up your leg, Sir?”

Eric made an unimpressed face and gently kicked Nick in the shin, making Rachel snort.

“Just making sure.” Nick grinned back and pulled up the leg of Eric's pants until it was shoved up above the knee. The prosthesis had a few scratches here and there and was a bit dirty from their previous adventure with the vampires, but otherwise looked perfectly intact. The skin of Eric's knee however was already starting to turn red with irritation. Nick frowned at the sight.

“Shit looks painful.” he thought out loud.

“Shit feels painful.” Eric retorted and leaned forward to unclip the fake leg. Nick helped him pull it and the bit of fabric protecting his skin off so he could take a better look. Eric's right leg was cut off a few inches below the knee and his skin was red with irritation. A sigh of relief escaped Eric's lips as the pressure was finally released.

Nick noticed Rachel wince in the corner of his eye.

“Fuck, Eric. You should've said something.”

Eric didn't respond as he looked down sheepishly.

Nick tried to be as gentle as possible as he checked Eric's leg for injuries or chafing that broke the skin. Luckily it seemed that it was just the pressure that hurt the most.

“Well, good thing is you're not bleeding. All that chafing merely irritated the skin,” he explained, hand still resting on Eric's knee, “do you want some ice? Or painkillers?”

The Colonel bit his lower lip in thought.

“You got any ointment? It's a tad itchy.” he ultimately requested. Nick burrowed his hand in his backpack, fumbling around until he found a bottle of ointment. Without thinking he opened it and was already holding his other hand under it to catch the liquid when he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth went dry at the thought of rubbing the ointment over Eric's leg, massaging it into his naked skin.

Even worse, what if Eric insisted on taking off his pants so that they wouldn't get drenched in ointment?

Feeling his brain short-circuiting for a second he awkwardly held out the opened bottle for Eric to grab, praying that the heat in his cheeks wasn't visible in the dim light.

“... thanks.” Eric mumbled and took the bottle with a raised eyebrow. Rachel mirrored her husbands confusion but said nothing. Nick swallowed, trying to moisturize his throat and then turned to his lover.

“Your arm. How's it holding up?” he asked gently. Despite what Nick had expected, Rachel didn't wave him off, instead she pulled her shirt up and above her head, even though Nick merely needed her to pull up a sleeve, revealing her upper body wrapped in only a bra with one upper arm bandaged.

And if his throat wasn't dry before it now turned into sandpaper.

There was no way Rachel didn't know what her half-naked body would do to the two men in the tent with her. She must have done it on purpose, Nick thought, there was no other way to explain this.

Rachel rolled her injured arm a little, testing out how far she can push her pain limits and then smiled at Nick.

“I can work with it. Probably just needs some cleaning.”

Nick nodded, trying not to stare at Rachel's skin, just like Eric desperately attempted to put his entire focus on massaging the ointment into his irritated skin. They both had mediocre success, casting Rachel a few shy glances here and there. The woman let Nick unwrap her upper arm, noticing (or anticipating) his shaking fingers. Nick cursed at himself in his mind. He must really be down bad if Rachel's not even naked upper body and Eric's exposed leg of all things made his skin tingle like he was a horny teenager.

The marine cleared his throat as he cleaned the wound, checking for any signs that it wasn't healing correctly. He was pleasantly surprised to see that it was doing well.

“Looks good,” he croaked, “should be gone in a few days.”

Rachel giggled at Nicks reaction, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him closer until their lips touched. Nicks heart did a flip in his chest and he leaned in to deepen the kiss as much as he could, careful not to touch Rachel's still exposed wound.

Rachel gently pushed him away again after a few heartbeats, breaking the kiss, making Nick's heart yearn for more. For a second Rachel stared at him, counting the freckles on Nick's cheeks.

Their eye contact broke when Eric leaned in from the side, one hand slowly brushing through Rachel's hair until he held the back of her head in his hand. Nick leaned back to give the married couple some space and something started to build up in his guts as he watched their eyes connect. Nick already had this feeling when they were down in the temple, a heat that made his skin prickle. Down there he called it jealousy. He called it frustration and anger.

And maybe it was jealousy.

But not the kind he initially thought it was.

His eyes were glued to them, he couldn't dare look away, and as soon as Eric's lips brushed Rachel's Nick felt a breath stuck in his throat.

And then the buzzing sound of a radio made all three of them jump. Nick, who was closest to their equipment, leaned over, fumbling with his hands as he tried to grab the radio when Salim's voice came through, speaking Arabic. Nick tilted his head when he heard his last name in between the foreign words but Rachel crawled off the cot and snatched the radio from his hands.

“That's for me.” she explained but before she could push the button to reply a different voice cut through.

“Keep that shit off the radio. You know English, speak it. Made us think there was an enemy nearby.”

“Sounds like Jones,” Nick grumbled and scrunched up his nose in anger, “fucking asshole.”

Another voice joined the conversation, if you could call it that, a groggy sounding Jason telling Salim to disregard what Jones hat barked at him and giving said marine a verbal beat-down to shut him up.

Eric raised his eyebrows in respect for his Lieutenant.

“Heard my name, though, and sure didn’t understand the message, so say again, Othman?” Jason asked through the radio and now Rachel decided would be a good time to step in.

“It was for me, Kolchek.” she explained, not trying to hide the smirk that shone through her words. She talked in Arabic without waiting for a reply, dropped the radio in Nick's hands and grabbed her shirt.

“Salim wants to talk to me. It shouldn't take long.”

“I haven't finished wrapping up your wound, though.” Nick complained but Rachel held up a hand to make him stop.

“We can do that afterwards. Like you said, it's looking good already. It can manage a few minutes of air.”

Flashing the two men a soft smile she disappeared into the dark of the night, leaving Eric and Nick alone in the tent. There was a hint of awkwardness in the air and neither of them spoke a word for what felt like ages. Nick's mind was starting to come up with all sorts of fantasies about what Eric could be thinking right now. Was he upset, sad, frustrated, jealous?

Nick didn't dare look at the Colonel, instead sucking on his teeth as nervousness filled his body. This was the first time Rachel had kissed both of them back to back while the other man watched. And without the threat of death looming over them.

“I, uh,” Eric finally spoke, clearing his throat, “... we good?”

Nick couldn't help but notice the irony in those words. He turned to Eric, who had a slight rosy tint in his cheeks, and allowed for his lips to curl upwards.

“Yeah, we good.”

Eric smiled back, seemingly relieved.

“Thank you, by the way. For your help.”

Nick accepted the bottle of ointment offered back to him and put it in his backpack.

“'s what I'm here for, Sir,” Nick saluted, but in a less formal way. Eric shook his head.

“Maybe, but still. Considering our backstory, I guess it would be understandable if you didn't feel like helping me out. Even though you are certainly a very loyal and dedicated soldier.”

Nick decided to take the compliment with grace. He walked over and dared to sit next to Eric on the cot, still ready to get up as soon as he notices any uncomfortableness in Eric's aura. Which he didn't.

“I suppose getting my ass saved more than once by you helped change my opinion,” he admitted shyly, “you're not as stuck-up as I thought you were.”

The corners of Eric's lips curled up, enjoying their conversation.

“You're welcome. I'm also very grateful that you didn't let me fall into those ditches. I definitely owe you, Nick.”

Once again, the spark in Nick's chest glimmered like embers. His fists tensed up on his lap, trying desperately to suppress this feeling. It's just gratefulness, he reminded himself, Nick was grateful and nothing else.

“You made up for it the moment you gave me your UV lamp when I went into the nest. Took me by surprise, though, but I'm thankful.”

“Speaking of which, I don't know if it was bravely stupid or stupidly brave of you to do that. I mean, it did an impressive amount of damage and you made it out fine, so I guess it was a success. But I wonder what went through your mind.”

Eric leaned slightly forward, trying to catch Nicks eyes. Nick knew the ball was in his court now and he had the choice to either play it cool or open up to Eric of all people and show his true colors.

The latter was probably the healthier option, he decided.

“I guess I wanted to protect. I was terrified the entire way down there, good thing you guys couldn't see the face I made when one of those things was looking for me. Thought I was having a heart attack,” he joked but Eric didn't laugh so Nick continued. “As soon as I placed the last round of explosives though, and saw those things around me, the fear was gone in an instant. Instead I was thinking of the people I hold dear. My family, my fellow marines, Jason, Rachel...”

Nick huffed a tiny laugh.

“Even Salim and you were on my mind. Dunno if it was some sort of twisted heroism complex, but as soon as I popped the flare I prayed that you guys would make it out alive.”

Nick paused and finally dared to properly look at Eric. The Colonel was sitting straight, taking in Nick's face like he desperately wanted to hear more. The spark turned into embers once again and Nick drowned in Eric's amber eyes for a second before continuing.

“I thought I was about to die for real. But you heard me. You guys came back for me.”

A sympathetic expression adorned Eric's face and he nodded ever so slightly.

“... I couldn't leave one of my best men behind.”

Nick heard what Eric said and it resulted in a war of conflicting emotions. On one hand he was happy to get yet another compliment, to proudly wear this verbal medal that Eric just awarded him with.

On the other hand he felt incredibly humbled. Was he truly just another soldier in Eric's eyes?

Both sides tucked at him, swaying him back and forth between pride and disappointment. He tried his hardest not to show his insecurity on the outside.

“Thank you,” he said instead, his voice a little sharper than before, “I appreciate that, Colonel.”

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Nick could have sworn he saw a hint of regret in Eric's gaze, like he wanted to take back what he said or reword it so his feelings came across better. Nick ultimately wrote it off as nothing, so he dropped it, even if part of him wanted Eric to explain further.

“Ow, what the fuck Rach?!”

Jason's offended sounding voice echoed through to their tent and Nick and Eric immediately burst out laughing.

“Sounds like she's done talking.” Eric commented through his laugh. Nick nodded.

“No idea what he did, but Jason probably deserved it.”

The entrance of the tent was pushed open and Rachel stepped through, a hint of relief and pride on her face. She flopped down between Nick and Eric, grinning to herself.

“He's such an idiot.” she exclaimed, obviously talking about Jason and Nick couldn't agree more.

“Do we even dare to ask?” Eric smirked in Rachel's direction but his wife waved him off.

“He was just worried about nothing. Felt the urge to kick him in the shin for it, so I did.”

Nick expressed his admiration for his lover by whistling.

“Kicking a sleeping Kolchek, you're truly brave, Ma'am.”

“Speaking of sleeping,” Rachel turned her attention towards Nick, “where will you sleep? Zain will be with Salim until 0400 when I pick him up, so that's occupied until then.”

Nick pulled together his eyebrows as he thought through all the options he had. Maybe he could find a spare cot in the equipment tent, or curl up in the back of the truck. None of those options sounded appealing, though.

“Do you have a pillow?” he asked, ultimately settling on the back of the truck.

Eric nodded and turned towards a bag hidden under the cot, opening it and pulling out a pillow like the two already on the bed. Nick raised is arm to grab it but Eric threw it onto the cot instead like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. He showed genuine confusion when Nick widened his eyes.

“Oh. I thought you-” Eric stuttered, “... I thought you meant that you want to sleep here with us. Was I wrong?”

His heart skipped a beat as Nick glanced back and forth between the pillow and Eric. Although this wasn't what he intended, he felt a kind of happiness rise up in his stomach.

“Uhm, I mean, I'd rather do that than what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” Rachel chimed in, squinting at her lover in suspicion. Nick raised his hands.

“I mean, the truck's pretty safe? I could've made that work.” he explained himself, faltering more and more with each word he spoke under Rachel's gaze. The woman shook her head.

“Nonsense. You're sleeping here with us. Colonel's orders.”

Eric looked shyly between the two people in front of him.

“I thought that was obvious.”

Nick couldn't help but smile softly. The fact that Rachel and Eric thought letting Nick sleep with them was self-evident made his appreciation for them increase tenfold. Well, he might have expected something like that from Rachel, but Eric?

All it did was set the spark in his chest aflame once more.

Rachel kicked off her boots and took a quick look at her watch.

“Still got a few hours until I have to pick up Zain. Enough time for a power nap.” she decided and turned to Nick. “Can you wrap me up so I can sleep a bit?”

Nick gratefully returned to his nurse duties, finished cleaning up Rachel's wound and put a fresh bandage around it. He then followed suit and unlaced his boots, put them neatly under the cot and crawled across the blanket until he was at the far side of the cot, next to the tent wall. It felt good, really good, to lay down next to Rachel again, like they did back at the base but this time without the constant gas masks watching their every move. On the other end of the cot Eric ran a hand through his hair, rubbed over his sore leg once or twice and then stretched out next to Rachel on the cot. They had to snuggle up a little, the cot was bigger than the standard sizes but still only supposed to support two people maximum. Nick didn't care. He enjoyed being able to wrap his arms around Rachel and pull her closer. Rachel cuddled up to both men, her forehead resting against Nicks chest and the back of her legs pressed against Eric's.

“I'll try not to wake you up.” she mumbled.

“The way you're clinging onto us might make that pretty hard.” Nick giggled, already feeling his limbs getting heavier. Eric chuckled behind Rachel.

“You can wake me up. For my goodbye kiss.”

“Stop acting like I won't return. You're so needy.” Rachel retorted harshly but the smile in her voice was too obvious not to notice.

“I want my goodbye kiss too.” Nick added, voice getting groggy.

“So needy.” Rachel repeated.

Nick managed to exhale a barely audible giggle.

And the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep were the rustling sound of fabric and the fingertips of a third hand resting on his waist.

[mystery-pixels]

🚀

[mistress-light]

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