#is: We are under the eyes of God

[arthursfuckinghat]

"Have you ever robbed a stagecoach?"

"Nooo.. never.."

[the--firevenus]

“I am scared to lose you, when we have finally found each other.”

-Quote from my fav fanfic ever exist, and I've applied it to all my ships ever since <3

[kacievvbbbb]

I do think that somewhere buried deep within his "heart🙄" under layers and layers of deep general disdain, Mihawk does have a modicum of respect for Buggy.

He'd rather die than acknowledge the mutinous part of his brain that thought this though.

[just-null]

brother @ me: why do you always draw bow man (noritoshi) with the most luscious lips? why do you make him look so beautiful??

noritoshi:

its bc he is beautiful. what the fuck i cannot stress to you enough how these two images are within the same 5 mins.

[cephydeluxe]

most Simeon/MC fics r kyute as hell, but a lot of them focus simeon's reason for "falling" (aka: disobeying father's rule of never extending a human's life by stealing the ring of light) as solely because he loves mc,

and like..... that's ok 😐 and all, but I feel like it kinda narrows simeon's character a bit ((but the following thoughts below r my interpretation so take this more as appreciation than a criticism of any other interpretations of simeon))

Simeon, regardless of whether or not it's reciprocated, still feels brotherly love for the brothers. They were once his brothers, and when it came time to wage war against them in the name of their Father, he refused to fight them and was demoted.

His love for his family made him refuse God's orders because the idea of harming his family was worse than the disapproval of God.

"ok well what does this have 2 do w the ring of light" shut up ill get 2 that >:(

I'm not gonna recap much cause my phone's at like 8% idgaf srry 😒. The only important parts is that mc's existence and pacts w the brothers is highly unstable and causing chaos in the three realms, and the only ways to fix it are to either kill lucifer with the night dagger, or to obtain the ring of light from the celestial realm.

So it's either trade lucifer's life for mc's, or steal the ring from micheal. The ring is immediately ruled out because demons can't enter the celestial realm, and it would probably (most definitely) cause a political shitstorm if a demon did steal it.

So the only option left is to kill lucifer, and right as mc is given the choice of killing him or themself, here comes Simeon, fresh from the celestial realm with the stolen ring of light in tow

Now, most fics tend to depict these events as simeon risking his status as archangel (an already unstable position given his refusal to fight during the war) as a huge romantic sacrifice because of his love for mc.

And that's,, cute ig but there is so many more things going on in that scene (2 me at least, solmare isn't really known 4 their writing 🫢)

Simeon's sacrifice in stealing the ring, in potentially incurring the wrath of God, in committing the same sin Lilith did to be disowned and even killed by their shared Father, and in risking his home he was raised and lived in for his entire life,

was both for his family that he has missed for thousands of years and for the person who healed them when he himself was unable to.

The TSL series (written by Simeon before the exchange program) are a retelling of the events between the avatars and mc. Even after they are cast out of heaven for treason and simeon is demoted for not wanting to hurt them, he still cares about them and wants the best for them, writing stories about them and their "Henry".

Even if the brothers treat him coldly and distantly, he still cares about them deeply enough that the prospect of killing lucifer? Their eldest brother?

The one who constantly does everything in his power to keep the rest of his family safe after the death of his sister?

The one who traded his loyalty to the demon prince after just landing after being thrown out of his home?

It's completely unthinkable to Simeon.

So that just leaves MC, then. The reincarnation of Lilith and the friend of all seven brothers, even after being violently killed by one of them,

(belphie, cough cough)

Still accepts all of them and keeps them together, and at this point in the story, is practically welcomed as a fixture in their messy yet tight-knit family.

For MC to sacrifice themself for the brothers would be to break them, to leave another unfillable void in their hearts like Lilith did so many years ago. The moment things would return to normal and Lucifer regained his memories would be devastating, knowing that yet again he failed to keep his family safe and whole.

Grief for MC's death would be felt far and wide, Simeon included.

Both outcomes of using the night dagger are unthinkable to Simeon, both causing unimaginable grief for everyone.

So the ring of light is all that remains.

It's a no-brainer, really.

Angels aren't restricted from the celestial realm, and if the ring is stolen by an angel, it has a way less likely chance of falling back on the devildom, on the fragile peace him and many others have worked so hard to facilitate between the three realms.

So what if the consequences will primarily fall upon Simeon alone, it matters little to the certain disaster either outcomes of wielding the night dagger will bring. Both Lucifer and MC will be unharmed, and the chaos will end.

But could you imagine the feelings he must have felt?

In the chamber where the ring of light is kept, having just snuck past Micheal, a twist in his gut from breaking the most basics of holy disciplines he has spent his entire life embodying, just staring at the ring of light in its container, the last momento of a father's love for his favorite child before disowning him.

It's a warning, a sign that tells Simeon that he will be next to fall if he takes this ring.

He takes it anyway, throwing his loyalty to God away if it means saving Lucifer, saving his family, saving the peace they've obtained without him.

A penance, maybe, for his inaction in the war, when perhaps one seraphim could've made a difference, if not win the war, then at least could've spared Lilith's life.

Can you imagine how he must have felt, standing in front of MC with the ring in his hands?

Lilith's sin that started the war wasn't just that she fell in love with a human, it was when she extended the life of her lover because of it. A clear defiance of Father's will, to negate written fate for the sake of her selfish love was what got her killed.

And here Simeon stands, staring into the eyes of her reincarnation as he offers them the ring that will save them, extend their life, and doom Simeon to walk the same path their angelic ancestor died on.

The ring is a promise, of the disownment that Simeon faces, of the pain he will endure in defying God's word as an angel (whose sole objective, down to the very fabric of his being, to the very purpose of his creation, is to embody and enforce), of the corruption of his very soul that paints his ivory feathers black.

It's also a promise of devotion, of commitment to this deadly sin, this selfless sacrifice, to the human he's fallen in love with, and to the family he longs to be close with again.

It's a vow, for all the atrocities he's willing to commit for the sake of protecting those he cherishes above all else.

It's a vow, for the deeply rooted love for the human, one who's very existence is the result of the tragic end of the angel who came before him and paved the doomed path he now walks.

Like Oroboros eating its tail, Simeon's love for the demon brothers and MC is never-ending and inevitable.

When asked, he says he wishes he could've fought with the brothers in the war, so he could "stay the same as them" and that the war weighed heavily on his mind from time to time.

Ever since he watched them be cast down to hell, he was destined to fall with them someday, too.

.

.

.

(christ, this got so out of hand, this is probably a huge mess to read, srry I'm not a writer or a media analyst, this is just ramblings of someone who's got some really dramatic art to make.) simeon 4ever bby <3

(also I could make a separate post from solomon's pov where he's willing to sacrifice a pact with lucifer, something he's worked for years for a chance, just to save MC, but im sleepy goodnight)

(most of this post was written while I was listening to elden ring ost, thank u bayle the dread for making this post way more dramatic than it needed to be)

[silverskye13]

I had a dream last night that me and Docm77 were trapped in a warzone and he tackled me to the ground to save me from gunfire and then together we took out like ten guys.

I'm sure this says something about my psyche and that something is that if I ever met Docm77 in real life I think we would commit war crimes.

[whaliiwatching]

tfw ur spider boyfriend is actually a cat

also a fluffy version bc im incapable of drawing anything that doesn’t induce cavities

[rillils]

rils, absolutely nothing hurts more than bucky saying "its fine, im used to it, ive had worse.." whenever he gets beaten up a lot

It’s the simple, matter-of-fact way he says it, that makes it all the more heartbreaking.

If he were crying, if he were slamming his balled-up fists into the wall, screaming, rioting at the unfairness of it all, Steve thinks it might be just that bit easier. Then, at least he could wipe Bucky’s tears away, dull the sharp knife-edge of Bucky’s grief with his own hands, hold him in his arms until all the parts of him came back together.

But Bucky keeps his grief under the surface, silent; private, except for those glimpses his body lets slip sometimes, in the traitorous set of his tense shoulders, or the blanching of his knuckles digging tight into his thighs, or the painful clenching of his jaw.

He brushes off the bruises, the cuts, the dark blood crusting his suit, shrugging his shoulder as Steve coaxes him into the chair he pulled up for him from the kitchen table.

“I’m fine,” he says, his jaw blossoming purple and blue in Steve’s cupped hand. Says ‘I’m fine’ and means it, just the same as Steve meant it when he used to say ‘I can take it’ after each beating in a piss-rank alley, back in the day. He recognizes it; the intimate need to believe it, to make it true, speak it true, even on the days when it started to taste like a lie.

“I’m used to it,” Bucky assures him, speaking softly in the homely kitchen glow, hand squeezing Steve’s knee with gentle purpose – as though that wasn’t the worst part. As thought it wasn’t the cruelest piece of truth.

He’s used to it.

He’s grown used to it.

There are so many things humans can grow into. Grow better. Grow kinder. Grow older. But Bucky’s grown into the pain, was raised into it, shaped into it, until pain became a natural presence lingering under his skin, twining its ancient roots around his ribs.

“You shouldn’t be used to it,” Steve murmurs, dabbing iodine over the tender-looking cut cresting Bucky’s cheekbone.

He shouldn’t have to be used to it.

Habit can turn even the most terrible things into day-to-day routine, given enough time.

Habit will see the hurt and whisper, It’s okay, it’s just another Tuesday. It doesn’t matter. But it does. It matters so much, so much it’s all Steve can see right now. That’s what he tries to tell Bucky, with the swipe of his thumb over Bucky’s good cheekbone, seeking the places where touch won’t hurt, where the caress will stir only warmth, no lurking aches: It matters. That’s the salve he spreads on Bucky’s bruised cheek, before slipping the band-aid into place, smoothing it over with the pad of his thumb, tender like a naked heart: It matters.

So what if the black and blue will have faded tomorrow, leaving behind nothing but the olive skin Steve has worshipped longer and more fervently than any gods or holy ghosts? So what if the wounds will heal fast, and the flesh knit itself back together till there’s not a pale scar left behind? That doesn’t mean Bucky’s not hurting now. That doesn’t mean the heart won’t remember, even when all the evidence is gone.

Bucky must read his thoughts on his face, easy as leafing through a book.

“It’s nothing, I swear,” he insists, rubbing soothing circles on the meat of Steve’s kevlar-clad thigh, a small, lopsided grin slanted on his lips. “I’ve had much worse than this.”

He seems to regret the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. Steve sees it, how the grin seals back up and Bucky’s eyes widen for a moment, as if he startled himself. The way his Adam’s apple bobs and his lips part and close and part again, hesitating. “Sweetheart.”

“I know,” Steve says. “It’s okay.”

Worse, in their two-people world, is barely a euphemism for the atrocities Bucky has borne, the likes of which Steve couldn’t have dreamed of even when he used to come home with more black eyes and fractured ribs than his stubborn body could afford to handle. Worse is a sore spot they only ever touch carefully, treading hand in hand on crumbling ground, and doing so takes its toll. There’s a time and a place for Worse, and tonight, Steve estimates, they both lack the spoons for it.

“Tell me something else you’re used to.” He wets his lips. “Something nice.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. In the dim, buttery light, his irises glitter like gems, startlingly pretty, and the corners crinkle just so, roped into a genuine smile. “Something nice, huh?”

His palms curl around Steve’s forearms, pulling him into Bucky’s space; and Steve goes, standing up from his chair only to step into Bucky’s inviting embrace, climbing into his lap, hoarded close in Bucky’s capable arms.

It’s precious, how Bucky has to tip his head back to look him in the eye like this. The way he looks up – looks up at Steve like he’s gazing at the stars, eyes full of wonder, of something soft like Oh, like How. How does something this beautiful exist. How does it bring light here, where the world is at its darkest.

Bucky’s flesh hand comes up to touch him, warm, brushing knuckle-first against his skin to stroke the soft underside of Steve’s chin, his fingers overlapping with Steve’s jawline, raspy with the day’s stubble.

“I could list you a whole bunch of nice somethings,” Bucky rumbles, gaze raking all over Steve’s face to drink him in, here, up close where he won’t miss a single detail. As though he could collect every freckle, every mole and laugh line and tuck them away for safekeeping, treasures that they are.

Steve exhales softly, feeling warmed through. Wanted. Desired. Craved, with that delicate, bone-deep hunger with which one craves a caress from their lover.

“Just give me the first one off the top of your head,” he prompts, whisper-soft, and tastes the word when Bucky breathes: “One”, against the curve of his lips, before capturing them in a kiss.

He lets Steve take the lead, and Steve moves them as he sees fit: slow and gentle, the bruises on Bucky’s face demanding that he take care, softly now, easy does it, as he tilts his head to the side and slips tender into the welcoming heat of Bucky’s mouth, dancing their tongues together.

His fingers sink in Bucky’s hair, cradling the nape of his neck as they part, lingering, close enough to breathe each other’s air.

“'Tell you a secret, though,” Bucky husks, breathing in with his eyes closed, his nose rubbing at Steve’s flushed cheek. He’s so warm, so warm all around him. Holding onto Steve with a need so deep, Steve is sure it’ll bruise him too, heart and soul. “I ain’t ever getting used to this, honey.”

Steve feels himself shiver, heat dripping down his spine. I love you, he feels, starting breathless in his lungs, tingling all the way into his fingertips, straining against the seams of his skin, too big to be held within. I love you, love you, love you–

In a cone of yellow light in their kitchen, he holds Bucky tight, and he doesn’t let go.

[skitskatdacat63]

"Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily."

+ process(tw blood)

Also, look at him, bloody little guy 🥹

This drawing was inspired by several matador pics :D here and here:

^ I don't think I'll ever live up to the second one ah. There's several pics of that specific guy just soaked with blood, and I'm uh a bit obsessed with then ITS FUCKED UP I KNOW OKAY! But I've not drawn blood in a while so it was a bit difficult so I added less than I would want to I guess. Also I'm obsessed with how often they kneel in bullfighting?? Like okay who are you arching your back and spreading your legs for-

[maphel-n-doodles]

DAY 7 - Break Up and Make Up / Pet Name(s)

Nestle yourself within the roots of this proud tree; rest easy within its shade.

[chilapis]

my monthly overthrow the tsaritsa post. you do not need to owe your loyalty to anyone but me i think. abandon your god for the prettiest wife this universe could ever provide a warrior. Ajax I’m speaking directly into your ear

[coffeesforclosers13]

.

[bangcakes]

.

[sincericida]

We need to talk about this man with big sad brown eyes. I want to hug him... with my legs, inclusive

[sysig]

Hey wait they’re really fun to draw how did this happen (Patreon)

[drugbinges]

I AM SO FULL OF LOVE WHEN WILL SOMEBODY MARRY ME