#if you think I did remember that it could have been so much worse

[strangersteddierthings]

Made With Love

It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.

Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)

... Did he miss Robin's birthday?

No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.

It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.

This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"

Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.

"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.

"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"

"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."

"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.

(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)

Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...

He thinks he might have fucked up big time.

"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"

Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."

Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.

Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.

The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.

Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.

He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.

The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"

"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."

The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.

Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.

Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.

He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.

Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.

Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.

"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.

Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"

"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.

Steve looks positively smitten.

Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.

"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.

He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.

He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.

Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.

-

The reddit post that inspired this -

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 2

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks can't stop thinking about you and how you'll fit in with the crew

Warnings: late night thoughts and mentions of abuse

Doll Masterlist

Later that night, while Shanks lay in the room he'd rented, the redhead couldn't stop thinking about you. Even while pleasantly buzzed still from earlier, his mind was a whirlwind of thought, and as much as it disgusted him to consider, he did want to know what kind of slave you were. The Celestial Dragons were known to keep all kinds of races, from Fishman to Giants. Labor, entertainment, pleasure.

Shanks hoped that you hadn't been part of the latter. You didn't seem like it, didn't have the innate sultry look that Shanks had seen before, but that didn't mean you couldn't hide it from him. He could go ask you, demand you tell him since he was the one who decided to bring you on board, but the thought of doing that left an awful taste in his mouth. Shanks wanted you to trust him. He wanted to be your friend.

You hadn't told him much about your past, only the little bit that you’d been willing to share with him so far, but Shanks wanted you to feel safe enough that you would want to share everything with him eventually. He wanted to see you smile more, wanted to see you relax and feel at home with him and the rest of his crew. You wanted to know everything, so Shanks would make sure you got what you wanted.

A knock on his door tore the captain from his thoughts, and he jumped from the bed to open the door. You stood on the other side, a contrite expression on your face. His own schools into one of concern and lean against the doorway.

“Everything okay, Doll?” He asks quietly and has a hard time not reaching out to cup her face when you bite your lip and avoid his eyes. He waits patiently for you, not willing to rush you into anything that you might not be read for.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” you ramble and then fall silent. You don’t want your new captain to rescind his offer to join him, but you’ve been instructed to say please and thank you since you could remember, even if whatever you’d been sent to do ended in punishment.

Shanks softens even more at your admission. He can see the old fear lingering in your eyes, and it makes rage boil in his chest that you’ve been subject to such treatment that a simple thank you made you so nervous. He doesn’t fight the urge this time to reach out to cup your face in his hand, his lips turning up in a sad smile.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to thank me for something like this. Don’t think you have to treat me and mine like you had to treat those bastards. I don’t own you, Doll. You own yourself.”

He watches in mild panic as tears form in your eyes, and then he has a chest full of sobbing woman. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to try and provide some form of comfort. Shanks isn’t the best at this, but for you? He’d try his damndest. He dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of your head and listens as your sobs begin to slow down into quiet sniffles.

You grimace as you pull away and look at his shirt from where your face had been pressed, “I’m sorry, I got you all nasty.”

Shanks laughs and shakes his head. You were adorable like this, and he couldn’t get enough of it, “Darling. I promise you that this shirt has had worse than some snot and tears on it.”

The look of disgust that paints your face is all worth the confession, and Shanks only laughs harder when you pull away and wipe your face. You crinkle your nose and eye him with a now skeptical look, “When was the last time you washed that shirt?”

Shanks aims an innocent look, lips pursed as he shrugs a shoulder. You scoff and cross your arms, but your fear from earlier seems to be gone, so the redhead is happy.

“Maybe it is a good thing I’m coming along. A crew full of men probably needs a woman’s touch,” You quip, and Shanks can’t help but silently agree. He won’t lie and say that the laundry doesn’t get piled up on occasion. Or the dishes despite Lucky Roux keeping the kitchen orderly. He’s guilty himself for letting his quarters get a little too messy. But he didn’t bring you along so that you could be their maid.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, _,” Shanks murmurs, tone dropping the playful tilt as he catches her chin in his hand, “I’m not bringing you with us for that.”

His heart thuds in his chest at the smile that you send him. You slowly reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing softly before letting your hand fall back to your side. It makes you feel good that Shanks is taking your comfort in mind, but you wouldn’t be a burden on his ship.

“I know that, but I don’t think I could physically just sit around and do nothing. I’ve worked… my whole life, Shanks, and I don’t want to be just another mouth to feed. I want to be helpful,” you say and shrug a little helplessly. The only break you’ve ever had was in the last month of your escape, but even then, you were constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the day that someone recognized you and dragged you back to Marie Geois. The guilt of leaving the other slaves behind still ate at you, and you wished that you could have been able to take them with you.

“Then we’ll figure it out as we go, Doll,” Shanks promises and strokes his thumb along your jaw like he had earlier before he drops his hand. He doesn’t want you to think that he wants you for anything other than your company. Not that you’re not beautiful, but Shanks doesn’t want you to think he expected something like that from you. Not unless you wanted it.

You blush at th efeeling of the rough pad of his finger against your skin. You didn’t like it when people touched you, but you found that dislike absent when Shanks did it. It felt natural and kept you grounded in a way you didn’t expect. You flick your eyes up, catching his own and send him a small smile, “Thank you again, Shanks.”

The redhead meets it with a grin of his own. A yawn suddenly catches you off guard, and you cover your mouth with a hand, eyes squinting as you look away from him. Shanks snickers at the way your nose scrunches up and steps back into his room.

“Go catch some sleep, Doll. We’ll stay here a couple more days to resupply, and then we’ll be on our way,” Shanks yawns himself halfway through, his words coming out slow and choppy before they even out. He smirks when his antics make you laugh, and then he is watching you turn on your heel and lope down the hall, “Night, Doll.”

“Night, Shanks,” you call softly back, and then you disappear around the corner. Shanks sighs once you are gone. Mind stuffed even more with thoughts about you as he shuts the door and lays back down. He rubs a hand down his face and rolls to his side, vowing to figure out the details in the morning.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Ulquiorra Cifer didn't think about Tousen much at all until he was out on the roof of Las Noches, practicing his second release, and meets the man, sitting alone with his face pointed up at the sky, and he asks Ulquiorra the most peculiar question:

"Are there any stars tonight?"

This was a peculiar question on several fronts:

This sounded like an invitation to engage in a social conversation, a bewildering activity under the best of circumstances, but particularly-

-with the shinigami Lords, and especially Lord Tousen who kept the same social schedule as a reclusive mountain hermit and was always extremely businesslike with a disregard for levity that Ulquiorra thought was refreshingly professional, so

-to hear him ask about the presence of stars was distressing in both that Ulquiorra hoped the man wasn't about to reveal a heretofore unseen saccharine side, and-

-worse, Ulquiorra wasn't actually sure about the existential quality of stars in general.

The arrancar became aware that he was running out of the socially acceptable time frame in which to respond to an Inquiry, and in his haste to avoid causing offense to his commanding officer, slipped up and answered honestly.

"...I don't know."

Tousen frowned, confused. "... you don't know?"

"No Lo- Mr. Tousen." Ulquiorra corrected himself, remembering the myriad corrections other Arrancar received. Perhaps this would divert the flow of this interaction.

"... what's stopping you from knowing?" Tousen asked, head slowly tipping sideways, intently listening at Ulquiorra.

The Arrancar was silent for a long time, glaring up at the sky.

"Mr. Cif-?" Tousen started to ask.

"I can see several thousand points of light in the night sky whose static position indicates but does not exclusively confirm that they are very large lights and extreme distance away." He started. "Many of these lights are recognizable from one night to the next, by consistent color, position and movement."

"Well, that certainly sounds like stars." Tousen nodded. "...so what makes you unsure?"

Ulquiorra was silent again for a long time, but the shinigami waited patiently.

"...My eyes are unusual."

He then failed to elaborate.

Tousen made a small waving gesture to encourage him.

"When I first became aware as the being I am now, I could only see." Ulqiorra finally spoke. "My mask wasn't so much a mask as a cocoon that encased my entire body. I could see, and sometimes feel if something made a particularly strong impact with my body, but. If anyone ever spoke to or called for me, I would not have heard. I did not smell, I did not taste, I did not eat. I was... entirely alone, inside and out."

Tousen frowned sympathetically at him.

"It was wonderful." Ulquiorra sighed. "Everything was beautiful. Everything was clear. If I could see it, it was real. If I could not, it was not. Back then, the stars were real.

"Eventually, I came to the corpse of a giant tree, something more real than anything else had ever been and I... I tried to embrace it, this thing of such wonderfully indisputable existential nature- and it broke the mask encasing my body, and I became 'Ulquiorra' as I am now."

"So... since you became an arrancar, and your senses expanded, the stars don't seem real anymore?" Tousen tilted his head, puzzling.

"I- no. It's not the stars that have changed. It's the nature of what is and is not real." Ulquiorra muttered. "- and it wasn't breaking my mask that changed it. The nature of reality changed when I met Lord Aizen and the others and suddenly there are things that everyone acts like are real but there's no tangible or objective proof of them- like "Loyalty", or The So-Called Soul King Lord Aizen is so opposed to! They all talk about them like they're real observable things but there's nothing- Why are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry- You're so correct it's funny." Tousen apologized, trying to stifle the shaking of his shoulders.

"Why is my being right funny?" Ulquiorra grumbled, eyes narrowing.

"It's not that important. Tell me about the stars." He smiled, patting the roof beside him, indicating Ulquiorra should sit beside him.

With a resigned sigh, Ulquiorra sat down beside the Shinigami.

"Its frustrating to no end- I feel like I'm going mad sometimes when Lord Aizen goes on his monologues about the throne of heaven- I mean, he has a perfectly good chair right here, what does he want with one in another dimension?" Ulquiorra huffed.

"I'm not sure either!" Tousen bared his teeth in a way that only sort of resembled a grin. "As far as things that only sort of exist- You do know that just because something is intangible, or only exists as a social construct, that it's still real, right? For a given value of Real, at any rate."

Ulquiorra stared blankly at him. "What."

Tousen sighed deeply. "Just because a thing is only perceptible to some senses, doesn't mean it's not real. Our senses are quite limited really- only a narrow range of sounds are audible, we only have chemoreceptors for a handful of chemicals- even your eyes can only see a very narrow slice of the full spectrum of light."

Ulquiorra huffed. "I'm aware. But they're still demonstrably real- A hollow with the power of invisibility will eventually bite me. And if it doesn't, then what does it matter to me if it's real or not?"

"Perhaps you would like to know if the invisible hollow is real *before" it bites you?" Tousen asked, resting his cheek on his knuckles and listening at Ulquiorra with interest.

The Arrancar made a low rumbling noise and looked away but didn't disagree.

"The trick is that things that are not immediately perceptible can be inferred by the effect they have on the world around them." Tousen explained. "If nobody had ever told me about the moon, I might have lived in ignorance- it's not like I can hear or smell it, and it's too far to touch. But I might have deduced it's existence by the way it causes tides, and how it changes the behavior of animals with its phases."

"...Hm. Much to think about." Ulquiorra muttered, desperate to get out of this conversation, but didn't get up. They passed sometime in nearly companionable silence, Ulquiorra staring up at the stars.

"...You can't see the moon." Ulquiorra realized. "You're not effected by Aize-MPF!" Ulquiorra was suddenly tackled by Tousen, hands over the Arrancar 's mouth in an exceptionally dangerous maneuver- but something about the fear in his expression made Ulquiorra hesitant to bite his fingers off. The shinigami listened to the night around them, reiatsu unfurling like the wings of some great beast, before he slowly let go and sat back.

"-my apologies, but even discussing suigetsu is a dangerous business." Tousen sighed. "Trust me, I'd know." He laughed darkly.

"-but you'd know if someone else was under the effects of Suigetsu?" Ulquiorra demanded, sitting up and grabbing the shinigami's shoulders. "I- I know only some of us are- certainly Barragan, and I think Hallibel too- but Starrk isn't! I don't know why, but I heard Aizen telling him that he wanted Starrk to 'see me exactly as I am', whatever that means-"

"asshole." Tousen grunted, untangling himself from the Arrancar. "-not you, Aizen. You're worried he's gotten his hook- AUGH!" The shinigami yelped , falling back and clutching his shoulder.

Ulquiorra stared as Tousen struggled to sit up again, an uneasy feeling growing in him, like the hole in his chest was growing.

"I thought perhaps Aizen had left me alone so I could deliver reports to him with my eyes unaffected, but..." He watched Tousen, panting with pain. "...there's something else going on, isn't there?"

"I can't talk about it but- yes, I think I can help." Tousen nodded, starting to undo the buttons of his coat. "Have you ever seen my back before?"

"...No." Ulquiorra frowned.

"Good, good- try to imagine what you think it looks like. You don't have to say, just think about it until you have a firm concept." Tousen nodded. "Got it?"

"Yes." Ulquiorra said, bewildered, them even moreso when the shinigami turned his back to him and dropped his coat.

"Does my back look about how you expected, or different?" Tousen asked, voice strained with an emotion Ulquiorra couldn't quite identify.

"Different." Ulquiorra stared, the sickening sensation growing to almost intolerable levels at the sight of the mutilated flesh- nails pounded into Tousen's spine, characters hapazardly craved into his shoulders. "Very different."

"Then you are not under the influence of Suigetsu." Tousen sighed with relief, pulling his coat back on. "I can't talk about it but- there are hidden depths to Aizen's depravity."

"I see." Ulquiorra muttered, still not getting up. Despite having his question answered and Tousen unable to discuss it further, it somehow felt wrong to leave just yet.

Another wordless void between them, filled only with Tousen's pained panting and the incessant desert wind.

"There are many thousands of what I am now reasonably sure are stars out tonight." Said Ulquiorra and the barking noise Tousen made was somewhere between joy and agony.

"...Thank you, Ulquiorra." Tousen smiled weakly. "Thank you. You have no idea what that means to me."

"... would you like to hear the rest of the report, Sir?" Ulquiorra asked, unsure why, save for a peculiar notion that it was the correct thing to offer.

"Please?" Tousen asked, still pained.

"...there is a very large but non-discrete band of light and shadow spanning the sky from the northwest horizon to the southeast one. It is not quite directly overhead, but if it follows it's normal trajectory, it will pass over us in half an hour..."

AEIWAM Question: What do the various Espada Think of Tousen? Follow-up question, will they, the bunch of dumbasses that they are (because Aizen made them for loyalty, not thinking), declare him their unquestioned leader once Aizen, Gin and Urloquia fork off to see the cosmic taffy pull (also presuming that Barrigan winds up face down in a ditch per canon)?

Bless you for asking this, I needed something to chew on. I'm going to answer these one at a time because the post would be insanely long, and how the thought of him Before the Battle of Karakura Probably:

---

Aaroniero and Arruruerie are SURE they've met before, and that they owes the man a debt of gratitude.

It's possible, they suppose. They have consumed and absorbed the memories of so many hollows that maybe they remember the face from a hollow he killed.

At least, that's what they hope is going on.

But they have Nightmares. Not of being pursued by Shinigami but of being the Shinigami in hot pursuit. Dreams of walking through a city, surrounded by humans that adore them. Names and Faces- Rukia and her dipshit older brother, Jushiro with the nice couch they sometimes pass out on after long nights- if Jushiro's husband wasn't already there. ...Memories, of meeting each other, and falling in love. How it felt as natural to look up to her as it was to gaze at the moon. How waking up to him felt as natural as the dawn. Memories of being married by Captain Ukitake, after Tousen had done them the inexplicable favor of organizing the whole party and acquiring wedding rings. He loves organizing things for people. Ukitake had smiled. Especially weddings. I just hope it's not guilt from the one he didn't get to. His husband had frowned.

That's impossible, of course. They know who they are, how they arose from the vile muck in the shadowy pits of Hueco Mundo. They never stood in the sun one late afternoon, to marry, not with how it burns.

...and yet.

There's no harm in being polite, right? They don't mind locking Glottineria in it's scabbard with an audible click when he comes into the room, to affirm lack of hostilities. Or giving him the cup of tea Aizen gives everyone at his insufferable meetings afterwards- it's not like they can drink it! ...And if sometimes, when they've been working late in the lab studying the effects and causes of Hollowfication, when Tousen gets tired and starts to call them "Kaien" and "Miyako"-

-Well, what's the harm in answering in the voices he expects to hear?

[demonlorddiva]

Obey me! Brothers when your drunk!

You did really good on a test you’ve been working on and Diavolo said you could have anything you wanted! Any other human would ask for money, a vacation, or anything their hearts desired. But you? Your simple. Without the ability to buy human world alcohol in the devildom you asked diavolo to pick you up some for a night of fun! (And chaos) you decide that staying home and drinking is the best option as to not be in danger of other demons. How will the other brothers react?

*Obvi the reader is over 21 or the age of consuming alcohol in their country

Lucifer

You decided that since drinking demonus with him was one of your regular dates in his office, you could do the same thing and drink with him!

He’s glad to see you don’t want to leave the house. And that you want to drink with him makes him even more at ease

Plus his pride is soaring that hes the first person to see you drunk

The night is simple, drinks, music, and a wonderful conversation

It’s not often he gets to let loose and drink to his hearts desire, and with you? What a better time

If your walking funny he immediately picks you up and takes you to his room at the end of the night

He wants to make sure your okay through the night (and he wants to cuddle) (he’s v affectionate when he’s drunk)

He knew the night was happening, so by his bedside is pain meds, water, electrolytes, the whole nine yards

Will cuddle you in the morning and tease you about the silly things you said

Mammon

PARTY TIMEEEEE

You don’t wanna leave the house

He whines

You put your foot down

INDOOR PARTY TIMEEEE

You know he has his room set up for the perfect movie night, pillows, blankets, popcorn, the whole nine yards

Has a drinking game set up so you both can play

And ofc he set up the rules so you would both be hammered even before the movie ended

But the popcorn ran out and you guys are still hungry

Y’all have to hold hands as you go downstairs to the kitchen to make some instant noodles for each other

Lucifer catches y’all being too rowdy and forces y’all to go to bed

Mammon is absolutely WRECKED when he’s hungover (the hangsiety is real) not to mention his head pounding and his stomach hurting

You both spend the next day cuddling, with you telling him how much you love him, and how you think he’s still so cool even after you saw him faceplant on the floor

Levi

A night??? With you??? And you’ll be drunk??

He assures you multiple times that your safe and he absolutely doesn’t want to take advantage of you (not that you were worried in the slightest about that) (Levi bb calm down)

Y’all decide to play devil beerio kart (it’s like beerio kart if you’ve ever played, I’ll explain the rules)

Basically NO DRUNK DRIVING

During one race, you have to finish your beer (or other drink) you can drink it all before the race, stop any time in between, or stop before you finish the race and chug your drink

After a few races y’all are LIT

You guys end up yapping for a while before you put on an anime and cuddle (Levi’s to drunk to be nervous)

When you both wake up your hurting and hungover and Levi is FREAKING

The hangsiety is real with him

Just keep cuddling with him and tell him it’s okay and to fall back asleep

Satan

He seems like the guy who doesn’t care to drink

But for you? And to see you drink? But of course

I think y’all pull out a board game or card game and take a shot every time you lose

He’s curious after every drink how your feeling even though his ability to remember things is getting fogged

He’s giggly when he’s drunk, and that’s a somewhat rare sight in your day to day life so you spend the rest of the night laughing and talking

Hates that your hurting in the morning (even though this was your idea)

Has all the medicines and drinks for you on hand to help you feel better

Demands silence in the house so your headache doesn’t get worse

Asmo

PARTY TIME

I mean.. this is a special occasion right? Just because you can’t leave the house doesn’t mean you can’t have fun!

A slumber party is in order with all the works! Face masks, popcorn and snacks, and doing your nails of course.

Y’all get silly and chat and gossip all night

But you have to tell him NO PICTURES even if he begs

I feel like y’all get super sappy drunk girl talking

“NO YOUR THE GREATEST PERSON IVE MET”

At some point, after a bit of drinking someone (both of ya) get the great idea to start prank calling people

You: “is your refrigerator running?”

Beel: “uhhh yeah”

You: “well then you better go catch it!!” *click*

The other brothers had to deal with Beel guarding the fridge in fear that it would ‘run away’

We all know you guys are BIG BABIES the next day being hungover

Be prepared to cuddle and complain together all the next day

Beel

He also doesn’t seem to be a drinking guy

But he’s down to try anything! I think he’d like cocktails with fun ingredients

DEF loves Bloody Mary’s

So I think that’s the night, y’all spend your night in the kitchen coming up with different drinks and getting drunker along the way

Y’all order WAYYY too much Chinese takeout and have a great time

Feel like beel gets sappy when he’s tipsy and tells you how much he cares about you and y’all snuggle and stuff

Makes you a DELICIOUS hangover meal for you

Like a Waffle House setup but at home

Def cuddles you and is worried if you feel bad the next day (I feel like beel doesn’t get hangovers)

Belphie

Feel like he’s not a drinker as well

But the opportunity to drink with you? And he’s the only one who can see? Oh yeah he needs to see this

Y’all decide a movie drinking game.

Example: watch pirates of the Caribbean and drink every time they say captain or ship

Y’all get lit QUICK

Decide to pull a prank on Lucifer and you guys talk FOREVER about the plan, what your gonna do and it’s happening TONIGHT

.. queue YALL falling asleep and never do anything LMAO

The next day is full of bedrotting and sleeping

He makes fun of you for anything silly you did

But you can make fun of him back, the way he was stumbling was really funny

In true drinking fashion I wrote this while I was drunk HELLO

Obviously not proofread love you!!! Been really sad about the story not continuing with obey me so I’ll be posting my drafts and more ideas a bit more often for a while

[thepossummoldypasta]

I Lost Myself to Find You

Tw! a character thinks he's been drugged, strong depictions of someone feeling ill

Steve knew, he knew, it was a bad idea to come to school today. He had thought (ignorantly, stupidly,) that the effects of having his face beaten in and the horrors of almost dying to a fucked up paper-fortune-teller-monster would have faded away over the weekend. Apparently not. Of course not.

Stupid.

Now everything aches. It hurts more than Steve thinks it should. It hurts like he’s a walking livewire bruise. Like every muscle has torn apart and hurled itself back together with no care. He doesn't remember being so absolutely fucked yesterday.

It's pretty obvious that he’s in a bad way. Steve’s shuffling down the hallway like a zombie, arms curled around a suffering stomach that he doesn't even remember Johnathan socking. Not to mention the smell. Steve’s set to present as a beta and even he can smell how absolutely pathetic he is right now.

It's only second period and he longs to be back home with the covers pulled over his head.

Fuck it.

Steve turns around. O’Donnell can fuck herself; Steve’s insides are falling out and he's got priorities. His internal organs trying to eat each other has got to be more important than English class.

It's a long trek to his car parked at the far, desolate, corner of the lot. What stupid mountain was Nancy’s little brother going on about the last time he saw him? Card-something? Steve feels like that. Like he’s crawling lamb-like across some epic snowy mountain, about to collapse.

Where's his car?

Steve knows where he parked his car, but he doesn't see it in the lot. Or he thinks he doesn't; Steve can't see much of anything through the spots dancing in his vision. Maybe the swirling is making it harder to see than the spots are? Either way Steve’s got no idea how far away he is from the bimmer, lost amongst a swimming sea of metal.

He needs to sit down; to yell at his thoughts until they regroup.

Is he even in the parking lot anymore? fuck is he even in the parking lot? The swirling feeling is worse, now it's like he’s swaying on a giant seesaw crossed with a carrousel. Steve’s head feels heavy, like there is cotton and sand thumping around in there instead of brains and rational thoughts.

At least the spots in his vision are gone. If Steve focuses enough--despite his eyes mimicking a fuzzy camera lens zooming in and out—he can see boldly colored evergreen leaves and icy moss. Yep, not in the parking lot.

Probably not a good idea to wander around in the snow blanketed woods with no jacket. The weather is cold enough that Steve could freeze!

Well…

He could freeze if it didn't feel like a fire had been lit in his stomach and across his shoulders.

It's almost near dark, Hawkins is firmly in that time of year when the sun disappears early, but the sky remains dully lit. The shade cast by the trees Steve is trudging between dims the earth even further but everything seems so vivid to him that it almost doesn't matter.

It shouldn't still be this easy to see. It's almost like the preternatural senses that he’s heard come after presentation. Even Betas gain heightened senses, but Steve hasn't presented as one yet, so why is it so bright?

Suddenly it occurs to Steve that he might have been drugged.

Tommy did say he would get back at Steve for abandoning him; The really sad thing is that Steve can picture his used-to-be best friend slipping him something as payback. What would this even be? God, he hopes its not acid.

Steve knows what he has to do now, where he has to go.

Eddie can help

When you think about it, at first the idea seems utterly absurd, but Steve knows Eddie. Sure, the alpha is a major freak, but he’s also Hawkins High’s most prominent (only) drug dealer. He’s bought from Eddie. Every time Steve picked up the “party favors” his friends pressured him into getting, Eddie would get this look on his face and tell Steve that he was always there if he had a bad trip.

And that’s what this is right? It's just a bad trip—even if it was potentially caused by the one guy he used to trust more than anybody else in the world—but now Steve actually has a plan! He just has to make it to Eddie!

Shockingly that might be easier to do than one might think. Very luckily Steve knows these woods and knows them well. In abrupt clarity Steve realizes the route he must have taken to get here and therefore the route he needs to take to get to Eddie.

If he’s in the woods he must have wandered south out of the Highschool parking lot, weaved between houses and the thin tree line, and eventually got himself into the woods proper. He doesn't think he took any turns, so if he just heads west, he’ll either head straight to Forest Hills or pop back out on a road he can follow to get there.

After a small setback—because he can’t follow the sun to find west—Steve is on his way.

The hike through the frost and snow is still oddly easier than it should be. Steve feels like his body is running on fever and instinct. As he walks Steve absentmindedly starts to hum “Over the River and Through the Woods” under his breath, hoping familiar music will speed up the flow of time.

He can still see fairly well; well enough to see (and attempt to ignore) what seems like a little girl following him from close behind. Steve knows it’s probably just the ghosts of his foggy mind coming to haunt him but the idea of a young pup all alone in the woods makes something in him, ache.

Soon enough, she slips back into the shrouds of trees. The pup won’t answer when Steve calls for her; and though it hurts—oh how it hurts—Steve reasons he cannot stop and weep over the spirits conjured by his drug addled brain. He’s almost there.

It should be startling how direct the path Steve took is but he doesn't care about that. He’s almost there. Lights shimmer in the distance, if he listens closely, it's almost like he can hear the soft thrum of distant music permeating the forest floor.

Metallica.

Eddie.

The Munson trailer seems to rise from the freezing mist, welcoming and safe. Steve sees Eddie’s window aglow in the evening and a sigh of relief breaks free from his troubled chest. Steve knows Eddie’s trailer, his window (Eddie refused to sell anything worse than weed anywhere but at home), the certainty is a comfort.

Eddie promised he would help him, here Steve will be safe. Quickly but clumsily Steve flies like a moth to the soft window-light. All sense has left him now; Steve claws and whimpers at the window pathetically until it opens.

“Harrington?” Eddie sticks his head out to greet him, “What are you doing?” Steve whines at the harshness of the whisper. He knows it wasn't meant to be mean but it still feels upsetting somehow.

“Eddie, I need help” the plea is pitchy and sad even to his own ears but still Steve presses on. “Eddie, you promised!”

The poor alpha startles, sucks in a breath and leaps to settle the boy crying at his window.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie flounders. “Steve, calm down, we can sort this out.” no matter how Eddie tries to sooth him Steve does not get a hold of himself. It takes several, long, anxious, moments before Eddie retreats back from the window.

Steve wails.

Why would Eddie leave? why when he said Steve could always come to him?

Steve has never felt so fragile before, He doesn't remember feeling this heartbreaking lonesomeness since maybe before high school. It could be just a culmination of every emotion he's felt and locked away because of the hell he was pulled into. it could be that this was just the last straw. Either way for some stupid reason he feels a small twinge of abandonment in his bruised heart.

All of a sudden arms envelop him in warmth and care.

"Hey, lets get you inside, okay Steve?" Eddie murmurs by his ear. "Jesus man, what are ya a space heater or something? You have your own vapor cloud." Steve doesn't think he was actually supposed to hear that part, but when he turns around, sure enough, a fine mist rises from his shoulders and trails after him like a sorrowful miasma.

how did that happen? When did that happen?

The Munson trailer is warmer and more comforting the anywhere else Steve has been in his entire life. Something rumbles deep contentedly in his chest; its so nice.

Eddie leads him over to a small couch covered in more through pillows on it than a couch thrice its size would need and Steve is glad to rest there.

"Okay man, what do you need?" Eddie questions when the other boy is settled in, "What can I do?"

Steve can't muster actual words but somehow the alpha understands. Swiftly Steve finds himself under a bundle of blankets to situate any way he wants while Eddie steps away once more. This time it isn't so bad; Steve still feels unhappy that Eddie isn't with him, however unlike last time Eddie had told Steve where he was going and was still in his line of sight as the Alpha goes to call his uncle.

"Hey Wayne" Steve hears Eddie greet his uncle. There is a brief back and forth about why Eddie is calling, and how "yes it is suspicious for you to call this late", before Eddie admits defeat. "look, You really cant get mad about this okay?" Eddie stresses into the phone. "I picked up another stray."

Another? but could that mean--

"I-I know Wayne," Eddie interrupts Steve's train of thought, "but I really gotta help my friend out okay? He's in heat."

The conversation continues at a steady murmur, but Steve can barely hear it, let alone make sense of the yeses and i-knows being passed back and forth.

Steve can't stay. He should have known taking advantage of someone's hospitality would have consequences. Here he is, a pathetic lump, on Eddies couch when he should be focusing on his omega! His omega in heat no less!

Steve struggles to free himself from the blankets and pillows he hadn't realized were completely surrounding him. Distantly he hears Eddie frantically tell his uncle he has to go and slam the handset back into the cradle as Steve almost tumbles to the floor.

"Hey! Hey! Steve what's wrong man?" Eddie manages to catch Steve by the shoulders holding him in place.

"No! Let me go!" Steve cries, thrashing in Eddies hold "You should be taking care of your omega!"

Steve nearly breaks free but Eddie wraps around him. now he's trapped in a hold more like a hug than a trap pushing him back into place.

"Well I don't know if we're quite there yet big boy, but that is what I'm trying to do!" The Alpha huffs.

"No you should be with him! He's the one in heat!" the cry pierces into the night, Its so sharp Steve is almost shocked it cam from his own mouth. Eddie makes a confused noise--that might have been a word if Steve was paying attention--he shifts his hold once more, putting Steve at arms length so he can look in his eyes.

"Steve!"

"What!" he shouts in return, Eddie looks deep in his eyes despite Steve's best efforts to look away.

"You're in heat." Eddie says it with such conviction it's startling. In fact Steve is so caught off guard that he goes limp enough to be laid back against the couch.

What--

Eddie coos at him softly, Tucking the blankets back around Steve, even going so far as to fluff a few of the pillows.

"oh honey," Eddie says sweetly as he brushes a hand along Steve's hair in a way he would normally despise, "You really didn't know? is this your first one?"

Steve nods against the alphas careful hand, taking it to nuzzle. Literally three hours ago--heck five minutes ago--if anyone had asked Steve if he was in heat he would have laughed in their face. Now the low, thrumming, ache has settled back in his gut and inclines him to think differently.

What else could this be really? well, he thought drugs, but hindsight and a safe place to rest vanishes the thought. looking back on the day all the cramps, the post-presentation senses, the fire that's settled within him, it all seems to make sense.

(a distant part of his brain--the one that will be embarrassed in a couple days time--tells him that the emotional sensitivity was also probably the result of his surprise presentation. That it was the natural, sudden shift, in hormones and pheromones effecting his already slightly addled brain)

"I don't want to leave, Eddie." Steve eventually sniffles against the warmth of the alpha. He reaches up to hold him gently and Eddie sinks into the hug.

"You don't have to go anywhere sweetheart. I'll look after you, I promise."

Later, after many cuddles and complaints from the new omega about how he "thought heats were supposed to be sexy", Steve will reflect on this week as probably the best one of his entire life. Up until that point of course. After all he has the rest of his life with the most caring alpha he's ever known ahead of him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Yay It's Done! Feel free to come check this out on Ao3 as well because I've decided to cross post as many of my works as I can =]

[hydrangeapartridge]

No rings allowed on the battlefield (EmmRook short fic)

Emmrich gets injured and Rook helps ;) (no spoilers)

warning for: s*x*al allusions

It was an unfortunate accident. A stupid mistake. A clumsy fumble during a battle with a dragon. Taash and Emmrich weren’t as well coordinated as other duos Rook often traveled with, and the fight had taken them by surprise. They prevailed at the cost of a few scratches and sadly, one less minor injury.

Once the adrenaline spike dropped down like the dragon did mere seconds ago, Emmrich winced, nursing his left hand close to him, assessing the damage done to it. It was no dragon that hit him, but the back swing of Taash’s reckless but impressive last blow. The handle of their axe had crushed Emmrich’s left hand, more precisely his left middle finger, which was red and starting to swell. The ring on it, an expensive looking band of gold with a diamond-shaped emeral in the center, looked a bit battered, and mostly far too tight for the size Emmrich’s finger was growing.

The necromancer’s right hand lit up with magic and he ran it above his injured hand in a quick healing spell. However, the whole group startled when a small green crack of lightning coming from his dented ring zapped Emmrich’s valid hand, dissipating the healing spell in the process. Upon closer inspection, the emerald gem was slightly fractured, damaged enough for its enchantment to act up.

Emmrich clicked his tongue in frustration. “Of course it had to be the life spells ward…” He grumbled, annoyed and in pain as he realized he would not be able to heal himself.

Rook quickly understood the situation, and seeing Emmrich’s rapidly paling complexion and sweaty brows, she took him by the arm, urging him to sit down on a pile of rocks so she could tend to his injury before he fainted.

“I am fine I assure you” Emmrich told her, though he was not so convincing; self conscious from the attention, and feeling powerless without his healing magic. “I’ve seen worse. Worse injury at least. That was my first dragon and it is not an encounter I would like to reiterate”

Rook gently took the mage’s hand in hers as he rambled, and from what she saw, his finger had already doubled in size and was turning purple from the lack of bloodflow.

“We need to take off this ring or you’ll lose your finger” She observed. “Taash, do we have grease or butter, or anything else that could help here?”

Taash rummaged through their belongings and Rook’s too but came back empty handed. “Nah, sorry, Harding is the one who always thinks about this kind of stuff”

“I have some cream in my belongings that might help” Emmrich then remembered, having difficulty focusing when all he could feel was his blood pulsing hard in his finger. He called out to Manfred, who had been hiding during the fight, but came quickly to their assistance.

Once she had the cream, Rook applied a small amound around the ring, trying to get it on the skin under it to loosen it. Emmrich bit his lip to refrain any noise of pain when she then tried her best to pull on the ring. She tried to apply as much force as she could, until Emmrich’s hand started shaking from the pain. It was an utter failure; the ring did not move one inch, and the cream only made Rook’s grip on it slippery, making it impossible to really pull on it, even with her nails.

Emmrich’s expression was a hardly contained grimace of pain, and Rook hated to see his beautiful features contorted so. She had to do something, his finger was getting cold, they did not have much time. It was a stupid injury but it must hurt like hell.

“Don’t we have anything to cut it?” She asked Taash but they shook their head. Rook tried preparing a controlled fire spell, but the second she approached her alite finger, the ring zapped her, making her wince and extinguishing her magic.

“Maybe we should cut the whole finger and then he’ll stitch it back with necromancy” Taash offered, but Emmrich did not approuve.

“I’d rather it would not come to that” He said, dejected.

Having a dead finger in the middle of such a refined hand was admittedly not enviable. They could do better. She needed to help him. Find a solution.

“Please don’t hate me for this” Rook told Emmrich when an idea struck her, eyes begging as they met Emmrich’s sad brown ones.

She did not give the necromancer time to think before she gripped his hand tighter and brought it to her mouth. In a swift motion she swallowed his middle finger, getting down on it without hesitation.

Emmrich choked on a half-pained, half-mortified whimper of a breath. Rook, whom he barely knew, had her lips tightly wrapped around that one particular finger, mimicking an entirely different situation. He couldn’t look away from her expression of concentration as he felt her tongue poke and swirl around his ring, caressing the skin in a way that felt as painful as it was soothing. He soon felt her teeth carefully joining the mix, trying to get a grip on the stuck piece of jewelry.

He instinctively tried to take his hand back, but Rook held it firmly in her hand while she worked, her eyes closed, her long eyelashes brushing her high cheekbones.

Emmrich felt the tip of his ears, as well as his neck heat up, his collar suddenly too tight, when Rook hollowed her cheeks and sucked on his finger. Her mouth was so warm he felt dizzy from it. He barely repressed a moan of relief when the ring finally gave in, and Rook pulled away from him with a 'pop' and a victorious humming sound that was delightful to the ears.

He watched flabbergasted as she spat the ring onto her opened palm, then covered his face with his right gloved hand from the embarrassment of the whole situation.

“Damn. That’s a skilled tongue you got! Could rival Isabella’s” Taash commented, genuinely impressed. They whistled, only aggravating Emmrich’s feelings.

Rook chuckled nervously, her own cheeks flushed from the effort and maybe something else. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Emmrich’s face so she focused back on his injured hand. With the ring out of the way, she performed a simple healing spell, and in a few seconds, his finger was back to normal size and colour.

When she looked up, Emmrich’s brown gaze was on her, grateful but strained, and a bit wild too from this impossible situation.

Rook leaned back, putting some distance between her face and his. She felt hot. Why was Rivain always so hot?

She handed Emmrich his broken ring back without meeting his eyes. “Here, I hope you can get it fixed”

“I will try. It was a gift; I shall be sad to part with it” He said, gently taking the ring and twirling it in between his long pretty fingers.

Rook wondered if the person whom he received it from was still part of his life. And how important they were to him. She wondered if he left someone treasured behind in Nevarra, but didn’t dare ask. Nor did she permit to comment that he should consider wearing less jewelry when traveling around the wilderness; for practical reasons. She stayed silent, simply glad that he was fine.

“Thank you Rook” Emmrich’s soft tone finally coaxed her into looking up to his pleasant features. “You truly are a very … resourceful young woman”

Rook felt herself flush again. “Anytime” She replied in a whisper between the two of them.

Back at the lighthouse, Taash felt the need to tell every other companion how Rook tended to Emmrich’s delicate ring situaiton. She thought she would die of embarassment, but in the end, it only became a funny anecdote, soon forgotten by the group.

She did not however forget the beauty of Emmrich’s hands, and the intensity of his gaze on her. The more days she spent in his company, the more she decided that yes, she could be convinced to go down onto the professor again, anytime he wanted.

[midnight-mourning]

*Taps mic* Heard y'all like Moon around here, you're in luck, this one's for you

massive, MASSIVE thank you to @lunarmoves for beta-reading this chapter!!

She put a lot of time and effort into making my BS readable for y'all and it's greatly appreciated <3 <3 <3

Shay also makes really good dca stuff (also sebastian solace but I know very little about the fish tbh) and you should check her out!

Also, happy 200k+!!! We're only 297k from truly becoming the 500k enemies to lovers slowburn of our dreams lmaoooo

But for real I apologize for such a delay with this one. If you'd like to hear my excuses/reasoning they're below the cut, or you can just go read the chapter whatever suits ya ^-^

Tag list (if you would like added please see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

CW: medical stuff & additionally a bit of unreality mentions

Okay going to try and keep this simple bc I've said parts of it before

So as most of you know, I've been sick for 3 months now

I've now been on two rounds of steroids, and currently on my third round of antibiotics, which are basically keep me fucntional, not improving

besides general discomfort and pain, my memory has been pretty shot at times, I will go through the day and barely remember what I did/what I'm doing/what I need to do

as someone who had brain fog caused by covid a few years ago, this was genuinely a scary experience because ultimately, this has been worse

i've felt out of control of my body, having times where I'm mid thought and then instantly lose it

this is not my normal, I usually pride myself on my memory, so losing it has been incredibly devastating and scary

this was not helped by the fact that the quick care I went to (THREE TIMES for this) basically kind of sort of tried to gaslight me into believing nothing could be done and that it's not an infection

so not only has this entire thing has gotten dragged out so much more, which makes me sad tbh, but I've also felt like I've been going crazy bc it felt like no one was believing me when i said I was sick and not getting any better (including friends, family, coworkers etc, though unintentional on their parts to be fair)

I feel like I've lost three months of my life and coming to terms with that has been, yeah

on top of all that, I'm still in school AND doing grad stuff, and while the school side of things has been okay (thank god), grad's had it's moments, won't get into it but have had multiple issues with my advisor that have been at times just really tough to deal with

Confused spirit got pushed to the back burner, because i quite literally at times could not think, and when it comes to this fic, where there's multiple ongoing plot threads, characterizations, lore, and so on to keep track of, it was just, impossible to me to even consider writing for it

having shorter stuff like promptober, the oneshots and such was great to keep me writing, and also still interact with everyone in the community, plus i had a lot of fun with them so that helped too

this is all to say that I do sincerly apologize for the delay, and at the very least I should've clearly communicated about there being a hiatus, when this all started I thought i'd be down for two weeks max, then as that time kept increasing I just kept putting it off and putting it off because i thought i was going to get better, and then I didn't

I do this for fun and for nothing else, fic writing isn't content (it's engaging with fandom) and i have to remind myself of that sometimes but given that I've been around in some capacity on and off I feel I should've said something in some regard

Having said all that, I'm doing okay now! Still sick, but as long as I'm on meds I'm functional, stuff is getting managable with grad, and hopefully have some fun things coming up irl! Point is, the last three months haven't been the best, but they've been alright, due in part to all the support you all have given me, so thank you for that, can't say it enough :)

Okay, I think that just about covers it, thank you for taking the time to read all of this if you did <3

[blueishspace]

Hero Villain God Bonus 1

(Prev) (Next) (First)

✨Hotguy answers the internet's most asked questions.✨

*The video opens to Hotguy in hero outfit sitting on a chair in a white room, he waves at the camera*

"Hello people! Hotguy here and this is my autocomplete interview!"

*Intro music*

"I'm dyslexic so I don't know how well reading is going to go"

[What Hotguy]

"What is... Hotguy's real name? Oh I'm sorry but you aren't going to find that on the internet! It's very confidential. I have seen a few interesting theories about it though"

*Hotguy has a pensive expression*

"For example, I heard people say I'm secretly Mayor Ren. It's kind of funny even if completely wrong. Next!"

"What is Hotguy's age? Uh, you guys are really curious about me...hence this whole thing, I'm flattered. You know, there is this site that said that I'm in my late fourties! Can you believe it friends? My fourties! I don't look that old do I?"

*The hand of the cameraman appears to do a so-so motion, Hotguy gasps*

"How dare you! I'll have you know I'm not fourty or worse...fifty"

"What is Hotguy's favorite colour? Orange of course! Next question!"

*Hotguy very dramatically reveals the next one*

"What is Hotguy's net worth?"

..."I don't even know Hotguy's net worth and I'm him"

*Hotguy giggles*

"To be honest, my manager helps me with that kind of stuff. They're totally awesome."

"What shampoo does Hotguy use? Oh you like my hair, do you? Well, I like caramel or oh oh! Maple syrup scented shampoo, really nice sweet smell. It was actually gifted to me first by the number 5 hero Tay and I liked it so much I kept buying it."

"What is Hotguy's personality type? I uh never done a test for that, my manager said it would be dumb so I never done it... Maybe I could do it in the future! What do you civilians think?"

[Did Hotguy?]

"Oh no, what did I do? I'm getting worried"

*He anxiously reveals the first one*

"Did Hotguy... Fire his pr team? Who is asking this? No! I did not do anything of the sort, I'll have you know that my pr team is having a great time... What's with that face mr. Camera man?"

*Cut to the next question*

"Did Hotguy kiss... Really? ... Did Hotguy kiss Mother Spore? I very much did not, she almost killed me in fact. I don't know where you guys got the idea that I'm in a relationship with her...moving on-"

"Did Hotguy go to school? Well, I did of course, got a degree too! It was around that time that the Hero association first scouted me actually. It's also when my manager actually became...well, my manager, it was a really busy time for me!"

[When Hotguy]

"Let's see, when did Hotguy appear? Oh! You mean my first public appearance? That must have been a while ago actually, 7 or maybe 8 years ago now? I'm not quite sure to be honest!"

*He puts his hand on his chin in thought before smiling*

"These last few years have been great haven't they? And now with my new sidekick entering the scene the next few are going to be even better!"

"When Hotguy merch? Oh, you can expect new merch coming soon! I have so much I want to say about it but I don't want to spoil the surprise! Just know that it's going to be amazing!"

*Wink*

*There is some noise from behind the camera*

"Oh right! Onto the next question!"

"When did Hotguy fight Poultryman? ... That guy sure is an headache, he's following me even here, never going be free of him I swear. It was around a month ago that I fought him for the first time, of course one failure wasn't enough to stop me! I'm still onto him!"

*He stands up as he says it before remembering where he is and sitting down*

[Who Hotguy]

"Who is Hotguy? Just the top hero in the country of course! I guess people outside of Hermmittopia might not know me as much as they do those who live here... "

"Who was Hotguy's first villain? Oh that I do remember, I think it was Midas... It was Midas right? ... Yeah. A really nasty guy with the power of turning things to gold. Of course I catched him and is now somewhere where he can't hurt anyone. Catching him was hard but I manget- ...managed, sorry, to assault his back-"

*❌ Sound*

"I managed to take him from behind -"

*❌ Sound*

"I managed to... Surprise attack him?"

*✅ Sound*

"Who is Hotguy's PR team... Again? You know what, I'm not answering this one again"

"Who is Hotguy's manager? Oh! I can't reveal their name but they're great, probably the smartest person I know! They're a scientist though, so I guess it makes sense that they would know so much!"

[Is Hotguy?]

"Is Hotguy hot? Sure am, It's in the name for a reason friends! Look at these muscles!"

*Hotguy flexes in front of the camera*

"Using a bow as much as I do will do that for you, requires a lot more strenght then people think."

"Is Hotguy... single? I am, saving the city is a lot of work so I don't really have time to date anyone... I know, so many fans must be heartbroken but don't be sad! If you are interested in love then I'm sure you'll find someone ... Or someones perfect for you!"

"Is Hotguy gay?"

...

"I'm pansexual, It's a very different thing. Moving on!"

[Where Hotguy?]

"Where was Hotguy born? Here in Hermmittopia actually, born and raised here! I know it may sound unbeliavable but it's true"

"Last but not least... Where does Hotguy live? I'm uh I really can't say my adress friend! Especially somewhere a villain might be able to see! Sorry!"

[gaysparkler]

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here

Title from Andrew Marvell's "The Garden" Read on AO3 Spoilers for the choice directly following "A Warden's Best Friend" under the cut!

Rook was pacing. Emmrich could hear them go from room to room withing the Lighthouse – and no doubt in the courtyard, though there was no way he could be certain. There had been an air of disquiet around them, and that, Emmrich could say with certainty, was due to the number of difficult decisions they had been forced to make. As a Watcher, Emmrich knew how sheltering the Grand Necropolis could be. The “choice” boiled down to which classes to take, which role to ascend to, which tasks to do for the day, what to eat for each meal.

Not which city should be saved, and which should burn. Not thrusted with the fate of the world in their hands.

Emmrich wondered if he could even handle it half as well as Rook had, though part of him wondered how much was hidden away from them all. From him, despite his and Rook’s not-so surprising closeness.

Perhaps, then, it was not surprising to see Rook push past the doors to the laboratory, their dark circles remarkably worse than usual. The door closing behind them was heavy and loud in the previous quiet of his reading. They stood in the middle of the laboratory and fidgeted with their glove in silence, mouth twisted in a frown. The sound of Emmrich’s book closing seemed to make Rook remember why they were here.

“Could I help you with anything, Emmrich?” They spoke again before Emmrich could answer. “Please, I just—I need…something normal. Something real.”

In the dim light of the room, Emmrich could see tears pearling in Rook’s eyes. He carefully set his book aside before standing and gently approaching them, as if the wrong move would send them running.

“It’s not much,” he said as he extended a tentative hand towards Rook, “but there are some bones that could use some sorting.”

Rook let go of their glove to grasp Emmrich’s hand, and nodded. A tear slipped. Emmrich watched it slide down their cheek, leaving a trail of kohl in its wake. Before he could think, he raised his other hand to Rook’s face and caught the tear with his thumb.

“I—” he stammered, “please forgive me—”

But Rook only closed their eyes and leaned into his touch, wisps of jet-black hair falling across their features, weightlessly. Emmrich heard them take a slow breath in, and out.

“I can handle some sorting,” they finally said, keeping their eyes closed. “I wouldn’t be worth much as a Watcher if I couldn’t.”

“Now, now. None of that.” He tapped Rook’s cheekbone with his thumb before slowly sliding his hand away from their face so he could fetch the adorned box containing the unidentified bones he had brought with him from the Necropolis. He carefully placed it on his examination table, and gently tipped it over so the bones would spill, without rolling too far, on the marble. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rook worrying at their bottom lip. The weight of the world, on such delicate shoulders…

“Right,” he said, cheerfully. “We’re all set!”

Manfred, on the second floor, gave an excited hiss. And that was what Rook needed to crack the smallest of smiles. They made their way to the table, on Emmrich’s opposite side, and the moment they started their work, the tension in their face and body disappeared. Something normal, usual. Something that did not generate an impossible amount of doubt, guilt, and hypothetical similes.

“Thank you,” Rook whispered without looking at him, their voice rough with tears.

“You are most welcome, my dear,” he replied as he watched their fingers deftly and carefully handling each individual bone, and already beginning to separate them in neat categories. In that moment, Emmrich wished he could have seen Rook fully in their environment, in the Necropolis. To see them fully immersed in their work, how their necromantic talents manifested outside of combat, know them as they are—pressures of apocalypse removed. But would that truly be the person in front of him now?

Emmrich finally reached forward, his fingers brushing against Rook’s, and joined them in their meticulous sorting.

-

Their work finished and laid out in precise reconstructions (partial, in some cases) on Emmrich’s slab before them, Rook finally looked up at him, and to his heartbreak, fear remained in their eyes. Emmrich laid his hand on one of few cleared areas of the table, his palm up and inviting.

“Rook?” he softly called. Their hand found his.

“Pénthos,” they said almost in a whisper. “My name.”

An old Nevarran word, before the trade tongue was favoured.

Mourning.

Their dark eyes, sunken in purple deep as bruises, said everything he needed to know.

Do not let this be forgotten. I beg you.

“Pénthos,” Emmrich repeated, inclining his head towards them. “You look tired. You should sleep.”

They scoffed. “Everyone’s been telling me that.”

“Then that should provide you with enough evidence to lend it credibility.”

“I know that,” Rook—Pénthos sighed, “I know…that I should sleep. I just—I can’t.”

And just like that, the tension that Emmrich worked (not so) hard to dispel returned to their body. Pénthos began fidgeting with their gloves again and picking at their lip—and it broke his heart. He wished so dearly there was something, anything he could do to help once more and then—

Manfred appeared behind them, holding a tray of freshly brewed tea.

“Well,” Emmrich said, “may I invite you to stay for tea?”

Pénthos smiled again, the brightest thing he had seen all day (save maybe for Manfred’s jewelled eyes, but he would tell neither—not yet, anyway) and replied, “I would love to.”

“I have heard that resting with good company can almost be as beneficial as a night’s sleep.”

Pénthos chuckled. “Did you, now?”

“I have, of course, my sources!” Emmrich pointed to a specific section of the many bookshelves lining the walls, somewhere on the second floor. Pénthos’ smile turned into a full laugh, and the lines of tension slipped away, even if just for a moment.

[itsa-me-lily]

So here's y'alls first fight! Aren't you excited? Also I get to introduce y'all to one of my favorite girls.

Here is the Simon x Thimble playlist

Here is the MPS AU masterlist

Reminder, reader is fat. It's not a morally right or wrong thing, she's just fat.

Content warning;

Swearing, some weight stuff, Goggles

You woke up in bed, which typically wasn't a strange thing to do. But you hadn't gone to sleep in bed this time though. You'd crashed out on the couch after trying to read a book your mother had recommended, it was always obvious that the two of you had very different tastes in literature. So the fact that you had fallen asleep on the couch, but woke up in bed, was perplexing. Hopefully you weren't developing a habit of sleep walking. Sleep arguing was bad enough.

Padding out to the living room, you were prepared to look for clues to your mystery. Only you found Simon. On the couch. Reading the book that had put you to sleep. And judging by how much further into the book he had made it, he was enjoying it more than you had. He didn't even notice your presence until you were right in front of him. You even had to clear your throat for him to peer at you from over the pages.

"Was I still on the couch when you got home?"

"Yeah."

Ever the well of conversation your husband was.

"Did I sleep walk?"

"Negative."

Well that was not an answer you were expecting.

"Then how did I go from..."

You motioned between the couch and the bedroom door, as if the space was vast and truly impossible to have crossed other wise.

"Carried you."

"What?"

You didn't mean to sound flat in your question, but the idea that you had been carried around, regardless of if you were awake or not, wasn't one you liked. Not that Simon seemed to understand that, given how he raised a single eyebrow at how unenthused you sounded.

"That a problem?"

How could you answer this in a way that wasn't going to cause an issue. Because you could see this becoming an issue that would be annoying to have to deal with. Unfortunately the longer it took you to answer, the more likely it would be.

"No? Just wake me up next time."

Simon didn't seem satisfied with the answer given how he closed the book with a snap, giving you his undivided attention.

"You'd rather I wake you up."

You think he meant it as a question, even if he didn't say it that way.

"Yeah. Don't pick me up."

You could feel that curl of anxiety start in your gut, and it only got worse as Simon got up, his height causing you to have to crane your head back to look up at him.

"You hate getting woken up."

"Yeah well I don't like being picked up more."

"How come?"

Was this man serious? Was he honestly going to question you about why you didn't like something? Really you wanted to argue, tell him that it was none of his business and that you had made your request clear. But you remembered your mother's words that she had dispensed the last time you had complained to her about Simon, and his...lack of sharing at times. 'You don't get what you don't give'. Maybe you should stop complaining to your mother. Still, wouldn't hurt right? So with a sigh you just shrugged, meeting Simon's eyes once before looking aside.

"I'm heavy."

You had accepted what your body looked like ages ago. Understood that there were more important things than fitting into a certain size. Didn't mean you weren't aware of your body, the space you took up. You knew your body, and you knew you were heavy.

Instead of asking, or elaborating, Simon Riley did probably the worst thing he could have done. He picked you up. His arms were around your waist and your feet were off the floor before you register what he was doing. The second you did though it was like every nerve ending in your body was screaming no. You did not like this. You went tense, shoulders up to your ears and volume control wasn't your first concern as you practically shouted into Simon's face.

"Put me down. Put me down right now damnit!"

Whatever reaction Simon thought he was going to get from you, that hadn't seem to be one he was expecting. He did so, though the landing was a little jarring, most likely due to the sheer suddenness of your demands. It only served to make you angrier, you could feel it shooting up your spine. You could have been gentler as you pushed yourself out of his arms, but you didn't particularly care to be at the moment.

You didn't know if it was better or worse that he didn't say anything in his defense. Actually it was probably better that he was silent because it made it easier to cuss him out as you went back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Fuck the sleeping arrangements. He could sleep on the fucking couch that night.

Simon had heard other soldiers complain when they had marital disputes. He didn't always listen in, but when he did he could typically agree that it was somehow the soldier's fault. Now that he was on the other end of it though? He didn't get it at all. He had only been trying to show you that it wasn't an issue for him to pick you up. He went to the gym, he could lift. But then you got all huffy and loud, and slammed the door in his face. You had even made him sleep on the couch.

And it wasn't like it had gotten better the next day. Apparently you had still been mad because you hadn't talked to him at breakfast, just gone through your usual routine and left without a goodbye. All he did was pick you up. It wasn't even like he dropped you or anything.

The puzzle left him feeling sour, though he couldn't really pinpoint what it was about it that made him feel such. Was it the cold shoulder you gave him? Maybe it was the fact you made him sleep on the couch. Either way he didn't like the fact that apparently you were still mad at him and it apparently was obvious to anyone given how Soap pestered him all morning about it until Simon finally spilled during PT in the weight room. It did make him feel better though, that Soap was equally as confused as to why you were so upset.

"I mean I don't get why the hen's mad, but have ye tried apologizing LT?"

"I would if I knew what I was apologizing for."

"Wow you're both fucking stupid."

The new voice caused both him and Johnny to whip around, hackles raised at being caught unaware. Some woman racked her weights, brushing her hands together before paying them attention again, expression such that seemed to beg what they were waiting for. Thankfully Soap bit the bullet before Simon could rudely do it.

"You are?"

"Goggles. Mechanical Engineer Unit."

She held her hand out for a greeting as if she hadn't just insulted the both of them. Simon only stared at it before crossing his arms over his chest, puffing himself up a little to sooth his ego. Again Soap stepped in since he was probably going to be the more civil of the two.

"What makes ye think we're stupid?"

"Oh it's not a thought." There was a brief pause afterwards, intentional, before she continued, "Anyways big guy here clearly wasn't listening to this Thimble person."

Big guy? Since when had Simon become 'big guy'. Clearly his reputation for being a hardass was suffering since his marriage to you. He was going to have to fix that. And what did she mean that he 'clearly wasn't listening'. He listened to you fine. He slept on the couch didn't he? Simon tuned back in at Soap's sputtering, confused as to why the Scotsman's cheeks were a little flushed. He clearly had missed something.

Clearing his throat, Simon got everyone's attention again and he could give Goggles a firm stare down. Not that it helped much given how nonchalant she appeared. He had a point to make.

"I listen to my wife just fine."

"Clearly not since you did the thing she didn't like, right after she told you she didn't like it."

Simon did not enjoy the tone she was using with him. In his affront it took him a second for the words to really sink in. Sure he had kind of disregarded what you had said, but it was just to show you it was okay.

"I can pick up my wife just fine."

The sigh Goggles gave him sounded like it came from the depths of her soul, and he couldn't quite get what she had mumbled under her breath, but Simon could imagine it wasn't flattering. He was just pointing out the truth.

"And that's why you're stupid."

"No I'm not."

The look Goggles gave him begged to differ. He was going to have to find out her rank and CO, he was not going to tolerate this kind of flack from someone ranked under him.

"You made it about you and your ego."

"No I didn't."

"Why'd you pick her up then."

"To show I could."

"But she didn't want you to. She told you that, and you did it anyways."

"Cause she said she was too heavy and I was proving she ain't."

"It doesn't matter. You still ignored what she said and steamrolled over the boundary she set."

That...might have caught Simon off guard. Just a little. Goggles seemed to have taken his lack of rebuttal as an acceptance of the point she was trying to make because she continued.

"Look I don't think you were trying to be an asshole but you still were. What if she ignored you when you said you didn't like something."

Simon wanted to argue that you basically always did what you wanted, his opinion be damned but...that wasn't really true was it? You didn't make a fuss about the face masks, you were always careful to not just go grabbing at him, and even if it was with dramatics, you respected his space. At least he hadn't seen you attempt to get a pin board into his home office. He couldn't really remember him ever having to tell you that he needed or wanted those things. You just...seemed to pick up on it. And when you had told him something you didn't like he ignored it. Not maliciously but...roads to hell and good intentions as they said.

It was his turn to sigh, in defeat, shoulders slumping as he accepted the fact that he had messed up. Without much fanfare he turned to leave the gym, firmly ignoring Soap's confused shouts to wait and Goggles' 'you're welcome' that floated to him. He had an apology to give.

Simon didn't know how to give an apology. Sure he had heard that the usual was chocolates and a bouquet of roses, but that was typically for someone you were in a relationship with. What did one get their technical wife but really more a roommate person as a way to say 'I'm sorry'? He could go with chocolates, but he knew that you tried not to over indulge in them since it messed with your sugar levels, and roses seemed to romantic. He stood in the card aisle at the shops looking at the wide selection without really liking any of them. They were either too sappy or too impersonal, or just stupid.

With a rising sense of frustration Simon grabbed the first apology card that had caught his eye and made his way over to the hot food section. Fuck it, you were saying you wanted a bird the other night. Chicken could be a decent apology gift.

When you got home, you weren't as angry as you had been when starting the day. Honestly you kind of felt stupid. Most girls seemed to kill to have a man that could pick them up willynilly, you were just...an outlier. When you had asked a coworker for advice she had told you you were being dramatic and that if you weren't going to appreciate Simon she would. You didn't think Simon was into the geriatric type but you had told her you'd pass along the message at least. So apparently you were a dramatic outlier that needed to apologize. Great.

It seemed that Simon had gotten home before you, and wasn't expecting you back so soon given how he froze up at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched as he had his back to you. Might as well get it over with.

"Hey Simon I-"

"Wait."

You weren't expecting Simon to interrupt you while you were trying to say I'm sorry, neither were you expecting him to turn around and step away, revealing an entire rotisserie chicken and a card.

"You got chicken?"

"As a sorry."

"A sorry?"

You looked from the chicken to Simon, who somehow looked both stoic and sheepish at the same time. It was probably how he stuffed his hands into his pockets, like he didn't know what to do with them.

"Yeah. 'm sorry. Shouldn't have ignored what you told me."

Oh. That was...unexpected. You had anticipated having to apologize and pretend like the entire situation hadn't happened. You didn't think he'd apologize first, or at all. You both stood in awkward silence as you tried to think of what to do next. Should you still apologize? Just accept it and still pretend nothing happened?

Before your brain could make a choice, your stomach did it for you, grumbling loudly as the scent of the cooked meat wafted to you. You could feel yourself flush as Simon huffed in what was probably amusement, turning to grab what you were hoping were plates. There was a chicken to eat after all.

"Thanks. And...I'm sorry too. For just yelling at you...and making you sleep on the couch."

Simon seemed to shrug off your apology, handing you two plates and sets of silverware before digging around in the freezer for some sort of steam bag to throw into the microwave.

"I've slept in worse places."

"Still we have an agreement."

"Hn."

You figured that was the end of your rivetingly awkward conversation as you worked on carving the bird into portions to eat and then store away. You didn't mind the silence as the two of you set up dinner together and started to dig in, though it did catch you off guard when Simon decided to have a different one.

"Is it okay for emergencies?"

You looked up from phone, blinking owlishly as you tried to understand what he was saying.

"Is what okay?"

"Picking you up? It's okay during emergencies ya?"

Was Simon planning on burning down your house anytime soon? Before you could question him on it though, an idea struck you. He was trying to ask what the boundary was, so he wouldn't break it again. You tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest.

"Yeah, it's okay for emergencies."

"Good."

You nodded, going back to your phone to wonder why the hell your friend still hadn't responded to your messages.

"And Thimble?"

Once again you looked up at Simon to see him looking back at you seriously.

"Yeah?"

"You're not too heavy."

You wanted to argue differently, but before you could he cut you off.

"Not for me at least."

You had to look away, feeling a blush climb your cheeks.

"Thanks Simon."

"Hn."

Edit;

Why wasn't Soap really talking in the gym scene? Because I imagine Goggles said something kind of out of pocket that left him reeling for a minute. She is no better than a man some days and I love her for it.

Also this isn't my favorite piece but I wanted to introduce Goggles with her calling the boys out for being dumb, because that is just so her.

As always I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to drop an ask about anything.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

in your universe, did Brian take Tim’s virginity? in my head he did, something about Brian being so sweet and gentle with Tim with Brian kissing Tim all over his body makes my brain go brrrrr

Oh definitely he did. I'm currently stuck between two places for when I want it to have happened, honestly.

Under the thingy a bit for length and a bit for the fact that it's talking about sex and alcohol a fair bit

Because on the one hand, I could make it when they get together properly in uni. Tim got overwhelmed at a party and Brian found him holing up somewhere absolutely not coping at all, probably just because he lost track of his friends and kinda freaked out a bit, and yeah they were both fairly drunk, but Tim needed comfort and Brian gave him that. And then once Tim had calmed down one thing led to another and it ended with them sleeping together at that party. Brian's definitely had sex before at least a couple times in this version of it, he's still awkward, especially since Tim's his best friend and has been for a couple years at this point, he doesn't want to ruin that.

Then both of them are like "well shit" the next morning after they stumbled home together and woke up hung over (Brian more than Tim, Tim's used to being drunk at that point and knows how to deal with it—though he does try not to drink, chain smokes instead most of the time—Brian not so much, Tim has to look after him a bit cos he's being a bit of a baby, but he doesn't mind that, counts it as returning the favour of Brian looking after him the night before) and they remember what happened. But they sit down and they talk, because Brian's a psychology student and Tim's had a decade of therapy (albeit not the best therapy, but still therapy), and they kinda figure things out and go, "you know what? I like you, you like me, how about we date? No one needs to know, that way there's absolutely no pressure from anyone, and we just see how this works out?"

Because I think that'd be absolutely adorable.

Or

I want it to have been something kinda stupid when they were still pretty new friends, as in, both probably still 16, maybe Brian had just turned 17, something like that. Once again, it was a drunk thing, at least on Tim's side of it. That's the one thing that's constant in my mind is Tim lost his virginity while drunk, because my version of him was pretty much at least slightly tipsy all the time throughout his time in highschool. He had a friend who was old enough to buy alcohol who had absolutely no moral issues buying alcohol for him even after realising Tim was becoming pretty reliant on it. Tim was struggling so bad with even just existing after getting out of the hospital to have at least a couple years of normal highschool before college, that he kinda needed the alcohol to help him cope/function.

It would probably have been a much worse decision if it was that second one, or like, Tim made the decision at a worse time mentally. Like, it wouldn't go badly for either of them, wouldn't fuck up their friendship or anything for more than a bit of awkwardness that went away after like a few weeks, but in this version of how it goes, it happens because Tim's in a pretty bad downward spiral that he doesn't know how to handle. Probably with Tim very drunk because something or other had happened, or had been happening for the past week that he absolutely didn't know how to handle. So he turned to two things he knows help, alcohol (drinking all day, probably skipping school for it so he wouldn't get caught) and getting comfort from Brian. But this is a pretty damn bad spiral, so Brian's usual amount of comfort wasn't really enough.

He'd have found himself going back to Brian's place after school, spending the whole evening there slowly getting more and more drunk, with Brian at first joining him because whoo alcohol! Something they're not meant to have! But he doesn't drink as much as Tim and after a while starts gently attempting to be like "heyyyyy, maybe you should drink some water instead, you just seem to be getting more upset? Let's go make something for dinner and watch a movie or something, yeah?" And eventually that works, they eat and they watch a movie and Tim sobers up a little before they go to bed, but he's still struggling a lot (probably hallucinations is how I'm thinking, hallucinations and rapid switching, thought they wouldn't know that second part, probably just assumed it was part of the being drunk) and he ends up crawling into bed with Brian instead of taking the air mattress on the floor like he usually does when he stays over.

They end up kissing and don't get round to talking about anything before they're very awkwardly wiggling out of their clothes and figuring out how having sex actually works. Then the next morning rolls around and they're not as awkward as they expected to be, they don't regret it exactly, but they're also a bit like "😬 oh we did that... Well, uh... As long as we're still friends?" And it kinda ends there, they both definitely still have crushes on each other but for whatever reason neither of them act on that again. Until uni comes along, then you get that same party (the one Jay and Alex also "get together" at for the first time properly) and they sleep together again for the first time in like a year or so, and this time they actually talk about it and have that same whole "I like you, you like me, how about we date?" exchange as above.

...could technically have both if I wanted, just make Tim forget about the time in highschool so he thinks the time in uni is the first lol

[aamy2100982]

VENOM WAR #5 Just some of my thoughts, big Spoiler Alert for those who haven't read it yet

I actually read it yesterday the 27th, but decided to post today because I needed to think a bit. Not my favorite Venom comic by far.

☆ So finally we have desidated piss-colored Venom, wohooo *low tone

I still think the design is mediocre. But at least I have a better answer as to why it's yellow. Also, I'm glad the first host to try it was Dylan. I was afraid they introduced the new host too quickly, because I've already felt like these last few comics are jumping from point to point like a machine gun.

☆ This whole panel is so sad

Dylan not wanting to hurt his father and Symby not wanting to hurt their lover.

It hurts my heart Symby admitting that they loves Eddie in all his forms even in Meridius one.

Even worse Meridius mocking xd

☆

Just say you hate yourself, dude. it's easier

☆ Can my man take a break? For ONCE?

He got shot, his son stab him, and now he stab himself. Who's left to stab Eddie? Flash? Sleeper? Toxin? Holy crap...

Not even Maridius saved! Anyway he's dead now, I was expecting something more dramatic, but whatever, man, okay I guess.

At least the panel looks cool. Dylan always taking his enemies by surprise, never turn your back on him.

☆ And Lee is there

I have to look up again what his deal was in all this, because I don't remember if he's alive or dead.

Now that the symbiotes are dying is he going to die too? Or is he finally going to do something interesting after all this time?

I've always felt that they wasted Lee's potential and could do something interesting with him. So I hope he doesn't just die... again...

☆ At least Flash is okay now. At this point I'm wondering if Anti Venom has a conscience or is just a permanent part of Flash. Also technically part of Eddie... gay.

I hate how cute Sleeper looks, it's not like you just witnessed the death of two gods, nah. Now you can go back to loaf like a lazy cat.

I find Toxin's face funny :|

☆ Goodbye old Dylan :(

you did well, i'm going to miss you

I don't think many people really liked him that much, and he was actually a bit of a confusing character at times, but I loved his design.

A little in disbelief that this is the end for him. I'd like to assume there's a little more.

☆ But good things don't last. I guess the symbiote is toxic for Dylan now? Is the symbiote toxic to all the other symbiotes now? If anything, the symbiote thinks it's going to die now and that's why it decided to leave?

I'm just going to put the biggest and louder

SIGH

I can... I knew they weren't going to stay together because Symby is getting a new host now, but damn. Does anyone else feel like the unions feel anti-climactic in this comic? I guess they were just in a bit of a rush to wrap things up.

Which is... understandable. They've been doing this crap for like 3 years now, it was time to let it die. But it makes me so sad that Dylan is alone again

The only good thing I can take away from it is that at least the comics are more self-aware that Symby is Dylan's father.

Which means Dylan is going to try to commit patricide again.

Understandable. My poor baby is 14 years old and has no one to turn to.

His brother I guess (Sleeper), I don't know if Flash could take him under his care, anyway Dylan is almost as stubborn as his father to simply get a tutor and go back to his normal life. Probably and technically, we know that now he is going to dedicate himself to hunting the All New Venom

☆ The fact that the symbiote is now toxic to other symbiotes is just an excuse for it to not rejoin Dylan? Because that sounds like bullshit.

And yes, I GET THE POINT. If Dylan joins the symbiote it creates this apocalyptic future that Old!Dylan is trying to prevent... I know, but it still seems unfair to me.

☆ Funny how all this was happening next to a church. Let's not lose good customs

I wasn't understanding what Carnage meant by "Partner".

I think is referring to Meridius or Cletus. So now they're both single, lonely, and hurt.

(My bad! He doesn't say partner, he says parent! Silly me, sorry xd)

Does this mean Eddie thinks the symbiote is dead?

Nice Father-Son reunion, I'm honestly excited to see what nonsense they're going to do!!

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi nodded, he understood that. "Yes, that makes sense," he said. Even if he didn't like that people didn't ask, he thought it would be easier to just avoid those people than to have to ask it or - even worse - notice it before it happened. "You dance very good, so it makes sense that people want to dance with you, but I think two-footers should ask." Animals didn't dance... or well, not in the same way as two-footers did. He'd been a bird once and seen the dancing some birds did. Realising that now, however, shed even more light on the situation. No, it would be best if he danced just with Zaya.

He never lied about his feelings, and he also never suggested he might have other expectations. He would however say things a certain way in the hopes he could become a Pandok again. Even if he could only talk with Zaya as a two-footer, he did miss his own skin at times. Often. If he could, he'd be the two forms at the same time. Talk with Zaya and be a Pandok.

Yazi set out his jaw, proudly. He'd been an adolescent Pandok, not big, but Zaya calling him big meant something. And he was very proud of his scales and his wings. In any form he was in, some of the scales remained, somewhere on him, a hint at his original form. "Yes," he agreed. He was a Pandok through and through, but any creature wanted to be flattered, and the fact that Zaya recognised him as a handsome Pandok meant more than he could put into words.

"Maybe that's why I choose you, because you make my skin look better, not as good as your skin. Your skin looks much more healthy and shining."

The curry place smelled wonderful, and one day Yazi would ask if he could be a cat while they were here, to really enjoy the smells. At the question, he paused for a moment. He never could remember the names of dishes, he could remember how it smelled, tasted, and looked. But he remembered the good dish he'd had last. "Lamb!" he exclaimed.

"For some people it doesn't matter if you have me," she insisted. Either through a grayer morality, or, in the case of some, because multiple partners or openess was what suited them. To Zaya it was less about a concern for monogamy as it was that it seemed arduous to try and seek others who could not compete with the bond she had magically formed with him. It would only cause drama and distress, neither of which she was interested in. She liked an easy life with the soul she had bound herself to through, what she believed, was predestined. "So they won't ask because they don't care. You have to make sure you don't end up in other huts, just as I won't invite other's to live in ours."

Zaya took him at his word as their hands swung together, Yazi was not one to hide how he felt. Sometimes she wondered if he did for her. Hid things so he might be pandok more often, but Zaya tried her best not to worry on those things. Surely he liked being two footer enough so he could interact with her? And understood it was easiest for him in this place.

"Yes, a bigger pandok," she agreed. Honestly she liked pandok better than 'dragon.' Either way she smiled at him, happy that he agreed. "Even though you were already so big, the biggest I have seen," she complimented, figuring she might feed his ego a little, keep their night a happy one. "The best most brilliant scales and wings with the most feathers. It's why you are so handsome like this, even with your wrinkles, my handsome Yazi."

A few people looked when they heard her describing him with traits he did not have but most looked on quickly. With all the 'were' beings that existed, who was to say he wasn't some sort of were-bird-lizard. They were far more concerned with their offerings, some on display in the window of the curry establishment they approached, a shelf covered in filled dishes, offerings to the spirits, a feast if there ever was one. "What are you hungry for, Yazi?" she asked, unsure if he would remember a specific dish or simply the colour of it and she would have to start guessing.

[fumifooms]

Makima, devils and self-fulfillment

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Devils and agency

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[uselessnbee]

ok but like the fall from the quarry before El saved Mike was so high like he didn't barely jump and then was immediately saved he fell a long way

just watching it is terrifying imagine how terrified Mike must have felt imagine him regretting jumping but knowing there's no way back and he could only watch as the ground neared as he neared his death like yes he was saved but that moment could have lasted a second and still be traumatising holy shit he was 12 im gonna throw up

[aw-bean-s]

I think I got possibly the absolute worst outcome for the tribunal you could possibly get and then slept from 12pm to 7pm