#its also important that he always just stumbled into all the things that get him street cred

[science-lings]

Something that I think about a lot is how Phoenix's reputation evolves, because he starts out as the kid with no friends who would stand up to him, to the puppylike college student who got acquitted of the murder of another student and immediately changed the course of his life to become a lawyer, to the guy who interns under one of the greatest defense attorneys since Gregory Edgeworth, to the guy who took over her practice and defeated the demon prosecutor in one fell swoop, the guy who took down the powerful CEO guy who literally blackmailed a bunch of people to suicide and killed a woman with his own hands to keep the truth from getting out and Phoenix went after him in his first case that he took by himself.

The guy who confronted the mafia (twice?) and was the one defense attorney to take the case of said demon prosecutor to go against another unbeatable unethical prosecutor and he did it with a parrot and a single piece of evidence. He defended the chief prosecutor and took down the corrupt chief of police and that's just the first game.

Imagine the press following this guy. You know when you attend a trial where Phoenix is the defense there's going to be some Crazy Shit going on. He will leave his current trial to interrupt another trial and he gets popular enough that someone impersonates him and to the point where an assassin blackmails him into taking a case and this motherfucker still tricks them into incriminating themselves. He exorcises a ghost who has a personal vendetta against him in court and by the end of the trilogy is really well known for the most mindblowing crazy shit and then it all comes crumbling down like two months later.

The most sensational defense attorney is dethroned and adopts his disappearing defendant's daughter and I like to think that when he gets involved with underground poker and starts toeing the line between the criminal world and the one he knows he discovers that he has a reputation there already too. You cannot tell me guy who kind of made friends with Viola Cadaverini is not on the mafia's radar at least somewhat. He got Dee Vasquez arrested and was the one guy not afraid to poke at people associated with Cadaverini, who the entire police force won't dare touch.

it just wouldn't be surprising to me if he unknowingly garnered some street cred, especially if he's seen around Kristoph and Edgeworth, a guy who calmly makes sure he never loses his cases and someone who literally has a reputation as a demon. I just think it would be so funny if people were a little afraid of beanix, just because of what he's heard about him. He's never been violent or anything, but he's dangerous in much less tangible ways. He builds a vibe around him that makes him seem kinda threatening even if there's no proof that he's ever retaliated against anyone.

He stays calm even when he's being put on trial for a murder and in the courtroom there's a feeling that everything is being played like a game to him. He should be in the most vulnerable position but he's entirely in control. He's been an undefeated poker player for seven years and no one but his daughter can even guess about what he's thinking.

Just... the outward mysterious act and infamous reputation that grows beyond Phoenix's control that makes it when he gets back into law kind of hilarious when you think about it. The guy everyone was a little nervous around in the basement of a russian bar/restaurant is now a lawyer again and the first thing he does is defend an orca. The publicity around this guy has to be insane in combination with the whispers in the shadows. It is simply funny to me.

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

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

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

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

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[grandline-fics]

Hi I'm so in love w your blog I love your writings 💙 n e ways I was wondering if you would write a small multiple character fic w luffy and zoro when you hide an injury💙 tyyy

DESCRIPTION: You hide an injury

WARNINGS:  light injury description but nothing bad

CHARACTERS: Zoro, Luffy

WORDS: 1,268

A/N: I'm so glad you like my writing and thank you for the request. I hope this was to your liking!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

ZORO

He’d told you not to push yourself. He warned you the dangerous of training beyond your limits so soon after a battle. Zoro told you to listen to your body and like a fool you wanted to prove to him you were strong, that you could do it. You should have listened because when you made the next rep in your training you felt the pull in your back and the pain jolted through you to the point your eyes blurred with tears, the air was slammed out of your lungs. The weight dropped out of your hand loudly and you stumbled back to the window seat closest to you, shuddering out slow, shallow breaths as you tried to calm yourself from the initial shock. By the time the hatch opened and Zoro’s head appeared you’d managed to control your expression. “What happened?”

“N-nothing.” You insisted, still breathless that you hoped you could just pass off as tiredness from the training. “Was getting tired and the weight slipped. Just catching my breath.” Zoro watched you carefully as he entered the Crow’s Nest fully and approached you, his keen stare never moving from your face. You met his gaze as much as you could and tried to seem as relaxed as possible even though the pain was still spasming in your back. Yes, you’d endured harsher injuries in countless battles and you would recover from this without any issue. All you needed to do was take it slow and easy and rest. The only problem was managing to keep it hidden from Zoro to avoid him getting smug about you not listening to him.

“Looks like you’ve caught your breath, you going to start up again?” Zoro asked casually, jerking his head back towards the weight on the ground. “Seems like you weren’t finished.”

“Uhh I would continue but that’s a heavier weight than I’m used to. Better to quit while I’m ahead right? Last thing we need is an injury.” You forced out with a tight smile, stiffly getting to your feet and heading towards the hatch. It wasn’t until you were nearly there that you realised you’d have to stoop down to lift it open and make the climb down and you felt like crying or cursing. Just as you prepared to do what would bring you more pain, Zoro’s arm wrapped around your waist gently to keep you upright. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Stopping you from hurting yourself anymore than you already have.” You tensed at that and let your eyes slide closed in slight annoyance that he already knew. Zoro had a talent of seeming laid-back and unobservant when really he was taking everything in, you hated that about him but also admired him for it. For now though your pride was wounded along with your back and you couldn’t help but pout when Zoro crouched down to open the hatch before lifting you gently but securely into his hold with one arm before using the other to carry you down the mast. 

When you were safely in your shared room you let out a groan when you lay on the bed. A sigh of relief followed when Zoro’s hand went straight to where the pain was at its worst, applying just the right amount of pressure and care to help your back. It got so good that you could feel yourself beginning to fall asleep but Zoro’s voice saying your name got your attention. Softly you let out a hum to show you were listening. “I told you so.”

LUFFY

You loved Luffy, you truly did. You loved how energetic and fierce he was, how he always had a smile and a laugh for nearly any situation. You loved how serious he got in a fight and how no one, no matter how much bigger they were or how important they were he still faced them head on if they did something to bring his fury on them. What you didn’t like was that sometimes that energy and that fightable spirit remained even when he was asleep. For the most part you managed to get used to it, jumping awake some nights when he let out a yell that he’d kick his dream opponents ass. Other times you’d wake to him bolting upright in the bed, his fist reeled back to throw a punch only for his body to flop back down against the mattress, his sleep undisturbed. 

One night however was one were Luffy’s dream fighting struck hard and more intense than you’d experienced before. When he bolted upright in the bed and yelled out you were tossed onto your back blinking wildly in the dark as you adjusted to being violently woken and trying to make out Luffy’s form. You waited patiently for him to start to make his attack and flop back onto the bed again but this time it didn’t play out the way it usually did. 

Over and over Luffy punched the air, sleepily grunting out attacks and insults. You knew not to wake anyone if they sleep-walked but you weren’t fully sure on those that sleep-fought. You gasped and managed to avoid Luffy’s arm whipping back, hitting the pillow where your head had been mere seconds ago. Cautiously you sat up in the bed and scrambled to think of something, anything to soothe him. Then you did the only thing you could think of.

“Luffy! You won!” You cheered out, loud enough to reach Luffy’s ears but not too loud to wake the others on the ship. You sighed in relief to see the broad grin stretch out across his face and with a sleepy laugh he threw himself backwards. You settled against the pillows and prepared to fall asleep again when Luffy let out a cheer, arms and legs kicking out in celebration. With your eyes closed you didn’t see it coming and you were hit hard with enough force to be knocked awkwardly and painfully onto the floor. On impact you felt your wrist spike with pain and you bit back the urge to cry out. Thankfully you hitting the floor didn’t wake Luffy and you were able to slip back into bed.

When morning came you woke first and were able to change into your clothes for the day, picking a shirt that hid your bruised wrist and forearm from view. You knew nothing was broken and it would heal, it just looked worse than what it was. If anything you were lucky that this was your only injury for facing Luffy. You were prepared to keep a low profile for the day but unexpectedly Luffy appeared behind you so fast and cheer out an excited good morning to you. With a startled yell you spun and put your hand on your chest, the action slipping your sleeve down just enough to show the beginning of the bruise. Luffy’s eyes widened and he reached out to take you hand. “What happened?!”

“Uhh…” You glanced at your hand in his hold and sighed. You couldn’t lie to him. “You pushed me out of bed, hit it on the floor. I’m fi-” You were cut off with a yelp when Luffy lifted you immediately. “Luffy! I’m fine, it’s a bruise.”

“No! You’re taking it easy if you’re injured!”

“It’s just my hand, I can still walk.”

“No! I’m your legs and arms today.” Luffy insisted before grinning at you when you laughed and shook your head in resignation. How could you argue with the Captain when he looked at you like that?

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[jinuaei]

Cleaning up

Yandere! Husband! Alastor x Fallen Angel! Accidental Spouse! Reader

Part 1 --- Additional art

Maybe it was a bad idea to be married to this man. You thought as you saw other demons run away and cower from him, you would have also ran with them if only the person that everyone is so terrified of wasn't holding your arm hostage. 

It would have been embarrassing getting dragged around by this tall deer if it wasn't the fact that you're also pissing yourself sacred. But the good thing is he actually believes that you are his ‘spouse’, so you don't think you'll be hurt…much. Besides, he’s such a gentleman that he gave you his coat to cover up your wings so that it wouldn't be exposed to any more harm.

After a while of trying not to trip, actually stumbling, and Alastor dragging you up again and again, you manage to notice the change of scenery, from tall depressing buildings to smaller, more quaint establishments. The demons that also frequent the streets changed from shark demons, to red imps, and finally to black eyed demons with sharp teeth. 

Well, at least they look friendly.

“This place here is the cannibal town! We’ll be visiting a good friend of mine, I’m sure she’ll be able to clean you up in no time!” your ‘husband’ exclaimed. 

I reclaim that statement.

The town is charming, and rather calming in contrast to that chaotic, overstimulating city you crashed landed in. Despite being in hell, there were flowers growing here, clearly being taken care of wonderfully by the citizens of this town. Vintage cars roam around the road and you see children playing in the parks you've passed through. It’s almost identical to what you see in heaven, but more demonic and nobody uses cars because well, everybody has wings. When you are reminded about the wings, yours twitches in response, rubbing against the deer’s coat. Because of that, feathers, still stained with blood, fall off. Alastor’s shadow tendril grabs it midair and pockets it into his trousers.

Finally, the radio demon abruptly stops, giving you enough time to stabilize yourself properly. With a wave of his hand he shows off to you a building named ‘Franklin and Rosie Emporium’, and you notice on the side there is a huge line of people waiting to enter. Whatever they sell here must be quite popular. Now that you think about it, it might be related to the ‘cannibalism’ part of the town.

Alastor must be important here because people moved away from him as he waltzed through the entrance and into the door. As soon as you both step in, an exclamation of his name catches both of you and your ‘husbands’ attention.

“Oh Alastor! It's always a delight when you come to visit the Emporium, how have you been? And oh! Who is this adorable birdie? Though they look absolutely filthy,” the demon steps into the view, a sweet looking lady with a polite smile who gingerly holds your hands.

“Rosie, meet mon cher, sent by the heavens to become my beloved spouse,” the radio demon lifts up your chin with his fingers, moving your head side to side as if to show you off to Rosie, “Also, would you be a dear and help them clean up? I expect my spouse to be absolutely pristine considering they're married to the greatest radio host of all time!”

“Well, I’ll be delighted to play dress-up with the sweet thing, maybe you can run to the tailors real quick and find them new clothes too.” 

Agreeing to that, Alastor waves you goodbye and leaves, Rosie then ushers you to follow her while shouting at Franklin to man the store while she's out. You both emerge to a room above the shop, Rosie leading you to a spare bedroom with an en suite bathroom. It's quite homey, with mostly red as its main colour, other than that, nothing stands out to you.

“You can stay here for the time being as you wait for your husband, bathrooms over there, and there should be bandages and such under the sink. I will be down below to help Franklin with the customers, just find me if you need help!” Rosie closes the door to the room and leaves you to your lonesome. It's time to clean up, you think.

Stepping into the normal looking bathroom, a bathtub greeted you, thankfully it's big enough to fit you and your broken wings. You absentmindedly fill up the tub as you think back to before you fell, trying to determine what happened to cause you to fall from heaven's graces. Nothing comes to mind and eventually the tub fills up. 

Shrugging off your ripped clothes and Alastor's coat, you sink into the water, seeping into the open wounds on your body. As much as you want to climb out the tub, it's important to rid yourself first from the golden blood and debris that cover you. You look over your whole body under the tainted water, you are covered in cuts and bruises but other than that, there's no concerning wounds to be found. Well, other than the numbing pain of your wings. Now that you think about it, your halo has been missing the whole trip. You can sense that it's there, but you cannot feel it above you, nor do you see it illuminate the room.

Maybe it's just hidden? 

As you think that, the halo starts to manifest just above you, the glow weaker and flickering just slightly as if it's a broken bulb. You frown at the sheer difference from when you were in heaven, when it was incredibly bright, the other angels would tease you for being a walking lighthouse sometimes. When you lift up your hand to touch the halo, you notice a mark on your ring finger. Looking closer, it seems like a tattoo, of two snakes twisting into something akin to chains. How odd.

A knock pulls you out from your thoughts and a voice from the other room calls out to you.

“I’ll be leaving out your clothes on the bed my dear, Rosie will come by in a moment to help you with your hair!” 

You quickly finish the bath and stumble in front of the mirror. Eyes darting to your mirrored self, you gaze upon the broken wings and dim halo, you are ashamed to see what you are now. Though you have done nothing to cause the fall, you still feel the undeserved guilt of being wrong. Ingrained to you during your time alive and dead, but you yourself know you've been good, so why berate yourself over other people's definition of good and evil?

Still, you try to will away the angelic limbs attached to you, and are successful in hiding it, leaving only red patches of burned skin on your back. Thankfully, you were able to soothe the irritated skin and patch up the area fairly well. 

You close the door behind you and check out the clothes Alastor got for you, it's similar to his in design but also suited to you. How he was able to get your size right you're not sure. Regardless, it fits you perfectly, and there's even an opening at the back for your wings, though you've already willed it away, still you appreciate the sentiment.

“Are you done honey?” a knock reverberates in the room and you answer with a ‘come in!’. Rosie does and is pleasantly surprised at the lack of wings on your back. You remember the coat left in the bathroom and grab it, shrugging it on to cover the exposed skin and bandages. 

The cannibal guides you to the vanity, starting to brush your hair.

 “So you're Al’s little angel hm? How’d he manage to catch such a cutie pie?” The woman's Boston accent grabs your attention from the various tools in front of you.

“Well… As he said earlier I’ve been assigned to him as his spouse haha…” you laugh awkwardly,”but enough about me! How about Alastor…What is he like?”

“Oh! He’s such a sweetheart! Well he is an Overlord, he eats other demons, and kills for fun, but don't you worry about that! You're his darling, he wouldn't do anything to harm you. You're in good claws sweetie.”

“Sorry, what???”

“Hm?” 

Rosie just smiles at you before finishing up your look. And might you say, looking at the mirror you look absolutely breathtaking. Coming out of the room, you find Alastor in the kitchen cooking. The smell wafting around the house is magnificent, you are reminded how hungry you are after falling from heaven.

“There you are my dear, I made some Jambalaya for you! My momma always said once I got my own cherie I should always provide for them for the rest of our days. So, expect more of this dear,” the man hums an upbeat tune as he gives you a plate of the food. 

Adorably, he wears a yellow apron that says ‘Deer-est cook’ at the front, you also notice that he had his hair up with a ribbon in a low ponytail.

You were excited to consume the meal right in front of you but then you remember where in hell you are now.

“...Did you put demon meat in the Jambalaya…?”,eyes glancing up at him, the question lingers in the air as he catches your eyes and stares back, still smiling. A few unnerving seconds pass before he answers with a ‘of course not!’

You breathe out in relief and trust your so-called ‘husband’.

Or maybe I shouldn't trust what he says, but he's still staring, what if he gets angry that I won't eat it?? Oh heavens, please forgive me.

With closed eyes, you finally bite down on the food. Praying to all things holy, hoping that you did not do anything blasphemous by accidentally eating demon meat, you find yourself pleasantly surprised at how delicious it was. You almost forget proper etiquette when you start ravenously gulping down the rest of the food. 

The demon before you chuckles in delight at the sight of you enjoying your food. As much as he would like to feed you his exotic diet, he would rather not force you to do anything you don't want to. And oh…the pleased shiver that ran down his spine at the trust you've shown him by not questioning him any further regarding the meal was truly delicious.

Dear angel… MY dear angel. How perfect you are… I'll never let you go. After all, you were made for me weren't you?

“I forgot to tell you how absolutely darling you are in that outfit! I must say I have quite the taste! Haha!” he laughs at his joke,“might I ask where your wings are? I could’ve sworn it was there when I left! Unless you cut it off? You should’ve asked me though, I’m sure your wings would be a delicacy…”

“I was able to hide it, I don’t want to be a walking target you know? An angel down in hell seems like a bad thing to be.”

“Oh don’t worry about being a target! I’ll kill whoever tries to even look at you wrongly,” crooning at you, he brushes away invisible dust on his coat, “also you may keep my coat dear, it’ll be a good way to show people that you belong to me now, that is until I can find a ring worthy enough to be worn by you!”

“I-uh thank you…” 

Crap. If I don't escape soon I'll be officially married to him. Then again…if he keeps cooking me good food I guess it won't be too bad…

With that in mind, you hope your future will be brighter than your descent to hell.

A/N GODDD THAT TOOK SO LONG. Honestly, the more people kept asking for part 2 the less inclined I was to actually make one but here I am.

That being said, I will be making more fics at my own pace. Finals is coming up so please do not expect new parts for this fic. Truth is ITS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE MULTIPLE PARTS! It was merely an idea I had while I was in an art block. Nonetheless I hope you enjoyed it :DD

(I unfortunately do not do taglists)

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Divider by @/cafekitsune

[manicpixiefelix]

all this, and love too (will ruin us)

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: The night of Oliver's party and both yours and Felix's moods are ruined upon finding out Oliver had been lying to you both for your entire friendship. While sticking with Felix all night to make sure he doesn't maim Oliver, Felix realises he doesn't like sharing you anymore. You're more than okay with this, but Oliver doesn't seem to be okay with sharing Felix, even if he has no say anymore. Canon tries to happen, but you get there first, so you kill the problem at it's source.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: MAZE SCENE; death, murder, violence, nongraphic smut, dominant felix, bathroom blowjob, oliver's birthday party situation, oliver being incredibly manipulative, reader being incredibly manipulative back at him, heavy drinking and drug use, You VIOLENTLY Murder Oliver Quick In The Maze.

A/N: 6074 words. oh god these oneshots are only getting longer and longer. whoops. but also PLEASE heed the warnings. this is the Reader Kills Oliver oneshot (first of two) that i was talking about. not sure how i feel about it. its very unedited.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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On the drive back from his parents' house, Oliver sits in the back. Like a scolded child he keeps his gaze low and voice even lower. None of you speak the entire drive back; you try and focus on the wind in your hair and the hum of the car and not how your stomach is turning. In your mind you see the connections as they light up, small things you'd missed, things that are starting to make a lot more sense.

You wonder what other lies you could have gotten ahead of if Oliver hadn't been so nervous about you going through his file at Oxford.

Every single thing about him was designed specifically to be appealing, to you, of course, but more importantly to Felix. It was meant to be you who knew it all, could see the full board and all the pieces the people around you moved; it was meant to be you who could plan well enough and see far enough out to keep Felix out of situations exactly like this.

Felix is curt and swift the moment he's out of the car, trying to escape Oliver who rushes after him, his desperation echoing through the halls. You're several steps behind Oliver, silent, watching the exchange, watching Oliver cling to an ever-dwindling hope for even friendship, as Felix calls out the weirdness of his ongoing lies, tearing that hope asunder.

"I just wanted to be your friend," is all Oliver can say when pressed about his lies. It's genuine, it breaks your heart, but it doesn't make it better. For a moment, you see conflict as it flashes across Felix's face, but he clearly can't do this right now, needing at least the night, but promising not to tell his family.

As you go to leave, go to follow him, Oliver catches your sleeve, holds it too tight for just a moment -

"I thought you knew," his voice wobbles, but there's something like alarm bells in the back of your mind. Everything about Oliver is purposeful, even now. But you know him, you know how he likes to play.

"No you didn't," you look at his fingers still coiled in your sweater, watch him drop them, "you knew I trusted you." You wouldn't let him shift this blame; the faint dismay you can see in his eyes behind the hurt gives him away. He knew Felix had more emotions than sense, but somewhere along the way he seemed to have forgotten that you were so much more than another adoring fan in Felix's shadow.

"'m sorry," stumbles from his mouth almost like a reaction to the look in your eyes, "for hurting Felix with all this, I- I never wanted that," he shakes his head, dropping his gaze, "or hurt you," tacked on as an afterthought. Both of you know where he was placing the importance of that apology. Everything Oliver Quick does is with purpose.

"I know you are, Oliver," you tell him, standing tall and unflinching as you left him alone.

"If you leave my side tonight I'm going to maim him," is how Felix greets you when you enter your room. Sitting on his bed, you see a little, ornate box open in front of him, and you recognise it as one of the few stashes he had around the estate for desperate times. This one, if you recall correctly, was shoved well beneath Henry the Eighth's bed, and had a decent amount of coke that you'd left here after last Christmas.

"Can't fucking believe- I can't fucking believe him!" He rants, cutting up lines of coke on the little hand mirror Venetia had donated to this particular stash box. Mind working a million miles a minute, you're quiet, letting him rant. Running on autopilot, you begin to strip down to your underwear, pulling out your costume for the night, frowning at it in the afternoon light.

"How complicated is your costume?" Felix asks, finally looking up, gazing over at you and the sheer, shimmering thing in your hands. Without a word, but with a vague shrug, you turn it to him.

The base was like something you'd see at a rave, little more than green underwear, with straps, and beading, and jewels, and loops of green and purple pearls by your hips that would bounce while you walked. The overcoat, though it was far to generous to call it that, was pure gossamer, sheer and green, with hand-stitched silk leaves making up the hem that fell perfectly to your ankles, and intricate, hand embroidery of vines that extended across both shoulders, and both arms, ending with little, purple flowers embroidered by your wrists.

There's large, brown boots with a bit of a hell and some large buckles, and a belt that's half a skirt that hit just below your knee to give you some coverage, at least on your left, sewn to look like it was covered in leaves. Plus a leather thigh harness and flask that Farleigh had gotten you made for your last birthday.

Leaning back, Felix reaches out to feel the gossamer between his fingers, frowning for a beat.

"Don't be precious about it."

For a moment, you frown in confusion. Despite your entire outfit being exquisitely and perfectly tailored, you knew you could afford to not be precious about pretty much anything, even this. But that's never been an outright request he's made.

"I'm not?"

Quiet follows, the soft rustle of your garments as you begin to get dressed, and Felix quickly snorting a line of coke.

"I'm going to lose my fucking mind tonight," he mumbles. Even though you're half dressed, you still lean over his shoulder automatically as he lifts the mirror and the rolled bill up to you like an offering, holding the mirror steady for you.

"I need a drink," you groaned, to which Felix immediately agreed.

"God, why don't we stash anything in here?" He lamented, laying back and watching you head to the door once more while you're trying to do up your belt to hold up your partial leaf skirt, still without your overcoat.

"Because that's tacky and we're not alcoholics." Even with your explanation, Felix pouted. Still, it's a quick trip to the Blue Room and the bottle of rum you're glad Venetia hadn't found in the broken piano.

The night gets blurrier, gets better, with half a bottle of liquor in your veins before the sun even sets. As you're making yourself dreamy and ethereal with glitter and gems and makeup in the mirror, Felix drapes himself over your shoulders, pouting again. The drinks and drugs are already hitting you both and you can hear the revelry beginning outside.

"It's not going to last," he says pointedly, and you're confused until you see him trying to poke at the iridescent eyeliner that wasn't quite dry. Rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away. So he makes his point again, adding, "I'm going to get glitter all over me."

You smirked at him in the mirror, tipping your head against his.

"Don't be precious about it."

A spirit amongst the fairies, you greet your college friends with open arms and boundless enthusiasm, always keeping Felix close at hand. He was more subdued than you, more subdued than many of your friends were used to. Whenever you looked at him, it seemed like his gaze was searching, his expression drawn unless someone had caught his attention, and he wore a smile that seemed to convince them.

"Need a drink," his hand around your wrist and no time to protest, Felix dictated your night and it's pace. Frustration and apprehension keep him tense, even as he tries to loosen up; you feel every time that tension spikes, even if you don't know it's cause. His nails dig into you, wherever he's holding you, shoulder, thigh, arm -

In the bathroom, doing lines with India and some guys who claim to be friends of friends of the Cattons, you're leaning against the sink until you Felix nudge your knee with his own. Looking to the door, you see Oliver in white, taking up it's space. Felix only has to gently tap your thigh for you to shift, sitting in his lap.

"You can't ignore me forever," Oliver tells him, watching you both, watching the way Felix wraps an arm around your middle to hold you close and secure on him.

"I can try," Felix practically sings, his nails sinking into your stomach. With his free hand, he offers you his cigarette, raising it to your lips. You drop your gaze as you inhale, trying to only focus on keeping Felix secure in this moment.

"Felix we need to talk," Oliver insists, "Felix, come on man -"

"Look, man, I tried to be nice -" Felix started, and though you tried to gently warn him, pressing against him with Fi on your lips like you hope he won't say something he'll regret, he just holds you tighter and continues on, "but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

India half snorts with laughter in the middle of a line of coke, the others all judging Oliver the longer he lingers in the doorway, but Felix drops his gaze. His lips are on your shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

One of guys whose names you don't know asks who Oliver even was, but Felix can't answer; tension again, maybe anxiety or frustration, but his mouth moves from the gossamer and embroidery on your shoulder to your bare skin above the neckline, where your collar meets your throat. His teeth sting. His nails still sting. He swears under his breath before he lets go.

"Sorry," he mumbles finally, sighing and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You tell him it's okay, voice fond, but when you lean over to do another line of coke, you meet India's reproachful gaze. It takes you a long few seconds to connect the dots, to realise what was going on in her head. You're so fucking over everything tonight.

"You know Farleigh was lying to you about us, right?" You say casually, taking your line and sitting back up. Her eyebrows rise in surprise, "I know you think we're all gross and cousin-incest-y -" you hear Felix's faint laughter behind you, and feel him nudge you with his thigh, silently asking you to get up. Both of you do, and Felix manages his first proper smile of the night, even if it is smug.

"But we're not related," he tells her, "thank fucking god," and smacks your ass as the two of you exit, as if to just prove a point.

You're on your knees in a different bathroom when you hear everyone else start to sing happy birthday, but Felix's voice is a low growl of don't you dare stop, and his hands in your hair. Nothing else matters to you in this state of mind, blurry, pliant, desperate to follow his every command. It's as if you've forgotten what exists outside of Felix's hands on you.

The night becomes lights that are too bright, and music too loud, and laughter and glitter and the warmth of the people dancing around you. After a few hours you feel yourself starting to come down from your high, starting to come back to yourself, still on the dance floor. Venetia's dancing with a blonde boy, looking so pretty, like she's having a genuinely fun night, but when you point it out, Felix takes your hand.

"Don't look at Ven," there's that hunger in his eyes, that firm tone he'd been using all night, "don't touch Ven, don't -" he cuts himself off, wets his lips. Looking around for a moment, he spots something in the crowd that makes him scowl. Just a moment, as you follow his gaze, you see Oliver. The moment your eyes lock with his, however, Felix has his lips on your jaw.

"Fucking mine."

There's half a second where you and Oliver are still locked in this moment, you watch the way his expression starts to shift, jaw tensing, something like anger flickering in his eyes. But you can't bring yourself to give a shit about Oliver as Felix has his arms around you, kissing down your throat with a feverish, almost lewd intensity in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Prove it," and you let him drag you from the house, heading towards the place that had always felt a little special for you both, almost a little magical.

"I'm being selfish," Felix announced as you finally hit the tree line just before the maze, "I don't fucking care anymore, I'm being selfish, about you -!" He turns to look at you, only to see you gazing up at him with starry-eyes, hanging on his every word. He breaks into a sheepish grin momentarily, shaking his head as his voice drops for a moment, "oh, you're fucking loving this, aren't you?"

"I want you so bad right now it's actually embarrassing," you agreed with a wide grin, unable to contain your laughter, despite how genuine the feeling was.

"I'm being selfish," he said once more, muttering it this time, though as you entered the maze and the moonlight peaked down upon you, you could see the blush still upon his cheeks, "I don't want anyone else to fucking touch you again, you hear me?" This time, when he looks at you, he thinks he can see hearts in your eyes; your overwhelming love and acceptance, even for this -especially for this- is making it very hard to keep the stern act up, except -

"Anything you say," you tell him, breathless as you approach the centre of the maze, voice edging on desperate, "anything at all." And you see it hits him just where it had needed to, to hear you wanting and wanton and offering yourself to him -

The gossamer overcoat is ruined, scratched all up the back where you're pinned against the statue, half sitting on the base with your legs around Felix's, your fancy green undergarments around one ankle. His nails scratch down the bare skin of your back, fucking into you with furious intent to match.

"You've always been mine," he groans into your ear.

"Felix -" you whimpered. Immediately he was grinning, lips inches from yours, gazing at you through his lashes.

"How's that proving anything?" He teases, low and knowing, and as his hips snap up to meet yours, you take the hint, his name getting louder and louder on your lips as you almost chant it, till his hand is between you both, helping get you off, and you're close and all but screaming his name and -

"Felix." Not from you. Oliver.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Felix immediately looks murderous, and not in a fun, sexy way. Oliver's demanding to talk to him while you struggle to pull your underwear back on.

"Could hear you out there," Oliver mumbles, half stumbling over his words, unable to look at you, focused on the dirt by your feet instead.

"Kind of the point, Ollie," you snapped, frustrated and now unsatisfied, but dressed once more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver?" Felix demanded. Oliver advances on him, presses into his space with desperate eyes and a bottle clutched to his chest. He doesn't look at you, he can't fucking look at you, you don't matter. It's Felix and his emotions who lead every situation the two of you share; it's Felix he has to win back over.

But he should have expected you not to leave, should have expected that when Felix pushed him away, shouted for him to get the fuck away, that you would try and step in.

"He's already got you on a leash, can I just have this one fucking moment?!" He snaps at you; he doesn't hit you but you recoil like he has, and Felix's gaze grows cold. Oliver seems to sense this before he even turns back, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just- they already have everything -"

"Back off." Felix warns sharply, but Oliver can't help himself, won't listen.

"I just gave you what you wanted!" Oliver throws himself at Felix, pins him to the statue, their bodies flush and Oliver rambling, "like everyone else does! Everyone puts on a show for Felix..." his voice drops, childish and weak and wanting, and you watch him press himself closer as he turns gentle, "so I'm... I'm sorry if my performance wasn't good enough..."

"I think..." some part of it was working on Felix, his voice soft and placating, "I think you need to see somebody," or maybe he knows by now exactly how Oliver wants him to act; his eyes never leave Oliver's face, even when he doesn't let him go, "you need help okay, seriously -"

"No, no, I don't," Oliver's voice is rising again, "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you," a tremble in his voice, sounding so raw, so needy, "you're the only friend I ever had, Felix." The manipulation is so blatant it almost hurts; you don't matter to him in this moment, all that matters is saying exactly whatever Felix needs to believe.

"I mean, doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you?" That hope, that dangerous, heartbreaking note of hope that's going to make your skin crawl. But you're not leaving without Felix, and he's not leaving this moment it seemed, "I'm still the same person, yeah? I'm still the same person," he insisted.

A long few moments pass, Felix's gaze searching Oliver's face for something beyond you. But then, finally, his gaze slips to you. All you can do is shake your head.

"Don't-" Oliver murmurs faintly, tipping his head to try and block you from Felix's line of sight, but Felix turns his attention back, expression helpless.

"I don't know what you are," he breathes, "but I do know you; you make my fucking blood run cold."

The fight drains out of Oliver, as does every last drop of hope. He lets Felix push his hands away, makes himself give Felix space to breathe. After a beat, he looks back at you, unsteady on his feet, pain in his eyes, but then he lurches, quickly shoves his half-finished bottle into Felix's hands, and rushes away to be sick.

Oliver is doubled over, retching, when you get to Felix. Before he can raise Oliver's bottle to his lips, you tuck yourself under his arm and wrap him up in a hug. He's trembling, but you feel the bottle against your back. Felix tucks his face into the crook of your neck, tears unspilled, clinging to his eyelashes.

"Better?" You ask forlornly once Ollie had gone quiet.

"Fuck off," he spits, finally coming back around. You watch him over Felix's shoulder, and the glare he levels at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand is almost surprising. Still, you try and show the same compassion you knew Felix would in this moment.

"Wash the taste out of your mouth," you try and tell Ollie gently, moving carefully out of Felix's arms, wrapping your fingers around the neck of the bottle he'd brought with him, "I think you should go to bed after." Oliver doesn't even reach for the bottle, but he does stop, looking between it, and then between you and Felix.

"Please," Felix sighs, head bent and bottle clasped tightly in his hand, "I need this."

"We can get another," you tell him quietly, calmly. Felix's gaze flicks to yours, imploring for just a moment, but dropping again when you don't relent. Felix sighs, once more, but finally relents, handing you over the bottle. Which Oliver has kept his focus on, brow now furrowing.

"I gave you everything else of mine, my drink's not even good enough for you anymore, like the rest of me?" He sneers, reaching unsteadily for the bottle in your hands, though his eyes and their focus betray him. Something lights up in the back of your mind, like one of those memories that made far more sense once Oliver's lie had been revealed. Alarm bells once again.

Felix stumbles to a halt -

"Fucking fine -" but as he tries to reach for the bottle again you step out of his range, beginning to see red as you got closer to Oliver, prickling with suspicion, "what is your problem, Y/N," Felix sounds so fucking tired, but all you can see is the deer of a boy before you growing wide eyed as he looks into yours.

"It's Oliver's," trying with all your might to not jump to conclusions, you hold the bottle out, desperately hoping that you'd connected the wrong dots, that Oliver was just drunk and as helpless as he appeared, that he couldn't be this malicious or vindictive-

"You want me to be sick again?" He tries to stand up to you, bottle pressed to his chest and refusing to step back even as you continue to crowd his space, "fuck off." He's seeming more sober, more alert, more with himself with each minute that passes. The distant noise of the party rings in your ears and all you can think about is the cold bottle between you and how Felix had almost -

"Leave him alone," Felix called out, footsteps in the grass sounding as though he was making his way back to the maze, "he's not worth it."

"He's pathetic," you spit, nose to nose with Oliver now, face heating up as hot, angry tears begin to close your vision. Still, you can see in Oliver's eyes that he's finding fewer and fewer ways to escape the situation.

"I don't care what either of youse think of me anymore," Oliver's lip curls as it quivers, trying to play distraught and callous all at once, "go fuck each other to feel like you're not just a fucking waste of space, vapid cunts -" he can see he's touched a nerve by the way your expression lights up with malevolent fury.

"Fi," there's a shake in your voice that you can't even fight, "please leave."

"Can you please come with me," Felix sounds like he's on the verge of tears, and when you turn, he's reaching for you, his hand shaking, "please can we go?" He begs.

An angel. Your best friend. Your everything. Your Felix.

Seeing him like this, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oliver's greed and jealousy would rather see Felix hurt than not in love with him, you couldn't let him get away with it. Finally you start to cry, even if you hadn't meant to, and the sight of it has Felix begging for you to leave with him. Oliver starts pushing, demanding that you both fuck off.

"Give me a minute, My Felix," you tell him, trying to smile, trying to reassure him, "I'll catch up."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"I don't want you to see this," you turn back to Oliver with newfound resolution. He's stepped back, leaning himself against the statue, doubled over, head in his hands.

"See what?" Felix asks dubiously, and Oliver looks up, sees the way you're approaching him, and scrambles to straighten his posture.

"Ollie's going to have a little drink," you offer him the bottle again.

"Tryna make me sick again?" He snarls.

"Then use it to wash your mouth out, then swallow," you order coldly, "and repeat until the bottle's empty."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's just as perfectly fine as when you handed it to Felix," you hissed, voice low enough that Felix himself couldn't properly hear. Oliver narrowed his eyes, matching your tone.

"If I don't?"

"What I will do to you, Oliver Quick, will be much worse than whatever you've put in that bottle, so you'll drink it all up," you leaned in, whispering close and menacing, "and if you do throw it up, I will have you on your belly, like the worm you are, sucking your own sick off of the fucking ground."

"What the fuck is going on?" Felix demanded, and you turned, taking a deep breath and hopefully giving a much more convincing, determined smile.

"He made you cry."

Felix's expression immediately changed. All soft and fragile but understanding, he just asks that you don't be long. You promise not to be. Both you and Oliver watching him go.

Once in the clear, you turn back to your captive audience, keeping your voice low.

"I'm not going to make you drink it," you admit, and though Oliver's confused and on edge, he seems to relax, just a little.

"The fuck do you want from me then?"

"I just need to hear you say it," you step back from him, give him space, even step around to place the bottle at the foot of the statue and lean your forehead against the cool stone.

"Say what -?"

"I'm not fucking stupid, Ollie," you groaned, looking at him out of the corner of your eyes, "you think I could hurt you? I ruin lives behind the scenes, I couldn't -" you flail your hands awkwardly, rocking back on your heels, turning to him properly once more. It appears to work, however, as Oliver is now only regarding you warily, instead of seeming actively cautious. "I was... hurt," you admitted, "I know why you said it, but I was hurt to hear you say Felix was your only friend."

"That's not -" he tried, defences lowering further as he attempted to defend himself.

"No, I get it; I've done terrible things because I love Fi, I couldn't imagine," you cast a pitying, apologetic look to Oliver, "him not loving me back."

And it works. He cracks, little by little. The tears begin to form, the lip starts to tremble.

"It's not fucking fair," it already sounds like there's a lump in his throat, "why do you deserve his love?" He scowls, "why can't I? I can be like you, I can be good -" he babbles, sniffling harshly amongst his defiantly sharp tone, "I know I could be," you gently wrap an arm around him and he fists a hand to tightly in your overcoat that it tears, "I was everything he wanted me to be -"

"I know, Ollie, I know," you carefully remove his antlers, holding them in one hand as you coax him in close, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"I wanted him to love me, I wanted- I never wanted him hurt, but wanted him dead so it wasn't my fault if he didn't love me; he couldn't love anyone -" he breaks down into furious tears, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I hate you, I hate that he loves you without you even trying -" there's no apology in his distress, even as he lets you hold him close, and you, for a few more moments, whisper reassuring nonsense. "I never wanted to hurt him," he mumbled softly, "but I wanted to kill him. I could never hurt him," there's anger and guilt in his eyes as he looks up at you, tear soaked and helpless, "but I wanted to hurt you." What you give him in return is pity, is sweetness and apology, but your blood is burning through your veins.

"You would have regretted it."

"I know..."

"Are you lying?"

"I think I am."

You have what you need, the confession, the intention; validation for your motivation. Hook, line and sinker.

"Hey, Ollie, Ollie, darling look at me, I know, okay, I know-" you try, taking his face in your free hand.

"No you fucking don't!" Oliver insists, but you keep insisting, "don't fucking take that tone, I just told you I was trying to kill Felix to hurt you -!" He thrashes, but your gentleness is unrelenting in this moment. You will give Oliver Quick what he deserves.

"Ollie, look at me, okay? Look me in the eyes, please -" you begged, and finally he did, despair and anger all there amongst the tears, "keep looking me in the eyes," you tell him gently, and firmly, and he does, too curious for his own good and wanting to see where this was going -

"Everything," you give him the faintest, reassuring smile, one hand on his face, shaking, messily wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he keeps your gaze, "is going to be -"

- and you ram one of his antlers into his soft, exposed belly with all your strength. Surprise and pain hit him all at once and suddenly he's scrambling, trying to get your hands off of the headpiece. But he's winded, and suddenly in overwhelming pain.

"- fine," you breathe out, shaking with adrenaline. You have him pinned against the statue, just like he'd had Felix only minutes ago.

"Eyes, Oliver," you ordered coldly, while making sure to keep smiling, even as fresh traitorous tears were gathering and already spilling down your cheeks. Hand in his hair coming to grip him tightly, keeping his gaze level with yours, "what did I say? I want you to look me in the eyes -" and you rip the antlers out before plunging them back into his gut. Lips twisting into an animalistic snarl involuntarily, Oliver splutters and fights and squirms but everything is becoming slippery, and warm, and slick with his blood. The antlers, your hands, and his; hard to get a grip like the firm one you had on your weapon of choice.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-" he chokes out helplessly, bloody hands moving up, trying to grip your arms, your shoulders, your face, "how -fuck- why -?"

"Whatever you had in that bottle is too good for you; you tried to kill Felix, you said so yourself."

As his strength begins to fail, the way he holds your face turns tender, almost gentle, before his hands fall back to rest on yours, both gripping the bloody antler. Oliver's weight rests on the statue, watching you with despair and helpless, pained moans. Cheeks wet with tears, you can't even fathom how you're doing this, or who you will be once it's done.

"You are not the minotaur of this maze," you grit your teeth, leaning your weight on the headdress, driving it into his guts until the bloody antler snapped clean off of the headdress, you still can't bring yourself to stop. It doesn't feel like enough. He tried to kill Felix. So you took the other antler in hand, unable to stop yourself, shaking with rage and tears, "you are the dear in my fucking headlights; you tried to hurt Felix, you tried to kill Felix! You are nothing, nothing, nothing," you punctuate each nothing with another bloody, unnecessary jab until you can't keep going. The second antler collapses to the ground, and you stumble back, hands shaking.

"Didn't want to hurt him," Oliver insists weakly.

"You were someone we loved," you can see the first antler still jutting out of him, stemming the blood flow but undoubtedly causing excruciating pain. But you spare him no sympathy, only a look of absolute loathing, finally taking in what you've done, the blood your fury had shed. "Someone I loved!" Burst from you, raw brutal betrayal scraping its way from your throat, face hot and wet with tears, falling to your knees, looking up at him with an exhausted fury, "you will never hurt him again. I will never give you that chance."

But Oliver's quickly unfocusing gaze slips from you, rising to a point beyond you, out into the maze. A weak, faint, but somehow still triumphant smile works it's way across his lips.

"Him?"

Like in a horror movie, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. You hear when Oliver finally gives out, stop holding himself up on the statue and fall to the ground, but all you can see is Felix at the edge of the maze.

And that look in his eyes.

Oh god, what have you done?

"Felix," tears start welling in your eyes again, and finally he looks away from Oliver's body, his own antler protruding from him, slowly bleeding out, to you. From here, he can't see the blood on your hands, the blood that's all over you, but he can see it all over Oliver, "Fi, please, you need to -" but he's stepping towards you, almost automatically; he looks ill. You have to look away, can't bear for him to see what your rage has brought about.

"I'm not," his words are robotic, still a bit slurred, and he keeps looking at Oliver, "going without you. 'said that." But he stops behind you. Eyes closed, you wait, you can't bear to even look at him. Then, slowly, he moves. When you breathe, it makes you shake, but you slowly open your eyes.

Felix approaches Oliver. You watch the faint, far away smile wears as he sees Felix up close once more.

"Fe-lix," he sighs faintly, reaching out with weak, shaking, bloody hands, feather light finger tips leaving red streaks along Felix's cheeks, his jaw, his lips. Felix's head dips in close, into Oliver's aching touch, his forehead resting against Oliver's in this moment.

"You were going to fucking kill me, Ollie?" Felix whispered through clenched teeth, on the edge of tears.

"'m sorry," Ollie mumbled weakly, shock and blood loss catching up with him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, "didn't want to hurt you."

"You wanted to kill me -"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"It would have hurt them!" Felix grabbed him by the collar with one hand, wrenching the dying boy up enough to see him pointing at you, still kneeling on the ground, second bloody antler laying in front of you. All Oliver could do was make a pained whimper, and Felix dropped him back to the ground, "and you said it yourself-" his voice is venomous, but your breath catches as you realise just how much he must have heard to know that, "and even having a thought like that," he snarls, hatred burning in his eyes, "means you don't fucking know me at all."

Felix is by your side in the very next moment, pulling you into his lap as he leaned back against the base of the sculpture. You're sobbing into your bloody hands, nothing else to do or say. Even as he's shaking, as he's crying too, Felix doesn't let you go, doesn't let you feel anything but secure with him.

"You saw it all, didn't you?" You whispered finally, and feel him nod.

"I said I wouldn't leave without you."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -" and while he tells you that you don't have to be, the words, the fears, the desperate justifications and rationalisations pour out of you, "he said he was trying to kill you, Fi, and I couldn't- I should have walked away, just gotten him kicked out or taken away or- or- but I couldn't," you gasped, "I couldn't let him ever have that kind of chance again, I couldn't risk that, my mind wouldn't let me -"

"I know, I love you," Felix murmurs weakly, his forehead against your shoulder once more, "dad and Duncan will know what to do, they'll take care of it tomorrow," he sounds so young in this moment, so tired and fragile. You nod quietly, leaning into him. When his hands find yours, threading your fingers together and holding on tightly, Oliver's blood is still sticky on your skin. Neither of you seems to care.

"How did you know something was so wrong?" Felix finally asked, the air cooler and quieter now. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it sounds as though the party was winding down. Oliver's party.

"He wasn't that drunk," you said after a long moment of deliberation, "could see it in his eyes," taking a deep breath, you cast your gaze to the guest of honour, completely still, chest no longer shifting with shallow, frantic breathes, "if he wasn't drunk, why was he sick?" Sighing, you leaned into Felix. You felt so hollow; "everything Oliver Quick did, he did with purpose."

[achilles-rage]

Addicted

summary: you're hicks' adopted daughter, and when visiting your dad's work, you catch rocker's eye. when you meet at a bar one night, a relationship begins, and it stays a secret until your dad walks in on you very close to rocker.

word count: 3.2k

request: anon- Can I request, Donovan Rocker and Hicks daughter, and Hicks finding out they're dating.

A/N: i know the request said hicks daughter, but i made the reader his adopted daughter so it could be race inclusive, i hope you don't mind! enjoy<33

warnings: none, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

He’s seen you here ever since he started working with Hicks. You come in every now and then to drop off your adopted dad’s lunch, or to just say hi, knowing his job can be stressful. He’s always careful to make sure he doesn’t stare for too long, taking in the way your tummy moves when you laugh, the way your thighs jiggle when you walk. 

He’s never said more than a few words to you; only speaking when Hicks had introduced you to some of the people around that didn’t know you when you came in one day. He only ever seems to see you when your eyes are on someone else, and he kind of loves that. He gets to see the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you fidget with your fingers when your dad introduces you to someone new. Either way, he thinks you’re gorgeous, and he can’t help the small smirk that makes its way onto his face when he imagines you coming to visit him at work, instead of your dad. You’re quiet, and sweet, and he finds himself wishing you would come in every day.

What he doesn’t know is that your eyes find him whenever he’s not looking at you. You remember his name from when your dad introduced you, but you’re too scared to ask your dad anything about him, in fear of him figuring out your feelings for the man. You’re also too scared to actually talk to Rocker yourself. He’s attractive, and tall, and muscular, which makes you nervous anyway, but your dad is his boss. You’re a little afraid that if he found out you liked him, he wouldn't let you come around as often.

One day, you’re visiting your dad at work when Hondo comes barging into his office, telling him that he needs him urgently. You stand up quickly, giving Hondo a small smile as he apologizes to you, but you wave him off. You know their work is important. You hug Hicks goodbye and follow him out of his office before parting ways, walking down the hall and towards the exit. As you walk down the hall, someone comes out of the doorway you pass, and you don’t have enough time to move out of the way. You run into a solid chest, stumbling slightly as you back away from the person, which causes the person to put their arms on your upper arms to steady you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” your sentence stops short when you look up and realize you’ve just bumped into none other than Donovan Rocker. He smirks down at you when he sees the embarrassed look on your face and the way your breath hitches in your throat. He can’t believe his luck; he didn’t even know you were here, and now he finally gets the chance to talk to you. 

“All good, sweetheart. It was my fault.” His low tone almost makes you weak at the knees as you try to hold the strong eye contact. After a moment you look down, stepping away from him, feeling your heart race as you feel the heat of his palms on your arms. He takes his hands off your arms, frowning slightly as you take a small step back; he liked how close you were to him.

“Where are you running off to in such a hurry?” he asks, closing his fists as he resists the urge to put his hands on your wide hips and pull you in. He wants to keep you here with him as long as possible. You look back up at him, licking your lips as you feel your mouth go dry. Looking at him from across a room is one thing, but with having him so close, you can barely make out a sentence. 

“Hondo came in and said he needed my dad. Said it was urgent.” you say, voice just above a whisper as you shrug, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. 

Rocker’s face changes from a smirk to one of annoyance. He doesn’t wanna leave you yet, but he knows he should probably go see what Hondo needed Hicks for. They’ll probably come find him soon anyway, and he’d rather not be caught with you alone by your father. As innocent as your encounter was, the thoughts currently filling his mind are anything but.

“I should probably go see what’s up,” he tells you, smirk disappearing as he rolls his eyes. “You want me to walk you out?” 

You shake your head, giving him a small smile.

“No, I know where I’m going. Thank you, though.” The smirk makes its way back onto his face as he looks down at you, giving you a nod. 

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” he says, taking the chance to scan your body now that he’s so close to you. He feels a little bad as his eyes stop on your chest for a moment, but he can’t help it. If you weren’t who you were, he would’ve already asked you out.

You nod, his nickname for you making it impossible for you to do anything else. You turn on your heel, walking away from him and out the door, completely unaware of him staying put for a moment, eyes glued to you, watching the slight sway of your hips as you walk.

After a moment he clears his throat, letting out a long breath before making his way to see Hondo and Hicks to get caught up. He tries to keep his thoughts on what they’re saying as they explain the case to him, but he can’t help but think of your shy demeanour and pretty face. 

Almost a week later, your two friends invite you to go out with them, and you all decide on a small bar close to you. When you get there, you find a small table near the back and settle there. After about an hour, you all need another refill, so you offer to go get them. 

As you’re standing near the bar, waiting for the bartender to be finished with another customer, you feel someone slide up beside you. You choose to ignore them, but you furrow your brows when you hear a deep voice speak from beside you. You know that voice, you think, but it can’t be.

“Hey, sweetheart,” You turn your head slowly, meeting Rocker’s blue eyes. You let out a shaky breath, smiling softly as you greet him. “What are you doing here?”

“Just out with some friends.” you explain, gesturing to your friends at the table, too busy talking to each other to notice the man that had approached you. He nods, smirking as his eyes trail down your body quickly. You don’t miss this, and it makes your breath quicken as you stand up straighter, unsure what to do under his intense stare.

“You want a drink?” he asks, looking over at the bartender, who finally walks over to you two. 

“Oh, um, no that’s okay. I was just getting refills.” you explain softly, giving the bartender your orders. He orders his drink after you, before adding: “And put her drinks on my tab.”

“No, you really don’t have to do that, these aren’t all my drinks.” you tell him, shaking your head quickly. You appreciate the gesture; it makes your stomach flip, but you can’t let him pay for you and your friends.

“It’s the least I can do for making them wait for their drinks. I wanna get to know you, sweetheart.” He smirks, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he steps closer to you, mostly so he can hear you better over the music and chatter from the bar, but also because he loves the way you squirm when he does.

“Why?” you ask softly, brows furrowed. You can’t understand why he wants to talk to you so badly, and you feel a little bad. You’re supposed to be here with your friends, who have now noticed the handsome man you’re talking to, you don’t want to ditch them. His presence also makes you very nervous, scared you’ll say the wrong thing, or he’ll somehow realize that some of your thoughts of him are definitely not appropriate. The bartender brings your drinks over, and you both thank him softly.

“Well, you’re gorgeous, first of all. And I also wanna get some dirt on Hicks, just for fun.” He tries to ease your nerves slightly, seeing the way you fidget with the rings on your finger and are trying so hard to keep eye contact. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat at his words, and you grab your drink to take a sip, buying yourself some time to slow your stammering heart.

“Well, I don’t have much of that, unfortunately,” you respond after a moment. “So, you’re out of luck.” He chuckles at your words, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t say that. I still get to talk to a beautiful woman. I’d say that’s pretty lucky.” You almost choke on your drink at his compliment. You lower your drink, keeping your eyes on the ice in your drink as you let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you.” you get out after a moment, unsure of what else to say. He has your brain so clouded with nervousness and lust, that any smart remark you may have been able to think of is out the window. He has you a stuttering mess, and he loves it.

You’re not sure how long you talk to him. Long enough for your friends to finally slip up beside you and get their drinks, giving you knowing smiles as they walk back to the table you were all at. Long enough for you to loosen up a little, slowly coming out of your shell and flirting back as you felt the alcohol flowing through you.

You aren’t sure how, but your night ends with your back being pushed up against Rocker’s front door as soon as you got back to his house, one of his hands on your hips as the other angling your head up into a rough kiss. 

You let out a soft moan as his lips move down your neck, nipping and sucking gently. Your hands find their way to his hair as his move down to the back of your thighs, lifting you up and pressing you against the wall again. You both know you shouldn’t be doing this, but with the way your soft body feels pressed against his, and the way your thick thighs are wrapped around his waist, he’s not sure he can stop. He's addicted to you.

This goes on for a couple months, and eventually, it turns into something more. You haven’t really had the talk; you’re too nervous to bring it up, scared it’ll snap him back to reality and he’ll realize sleeping with his boss’s daughter is a bad idea. You rarely go out with him, instead opting to stay in the safety of either your apartment or his house, but he has called you his girl a few times while he’s buried deep inside of you, so you’re content with the situation for now.

A few months into your relationship with Rocker, you’re visiting your dad at work again, bringing him some lunch. Before you can make it to his office, Rocker’s arm is wrapping around your wrist and pulling you into one of the empty offices.

You squeal softly as he pulls you in, but his hand is over your mouth immediately, shushing you softly before talking his hand away and kissing you passionately. You hum softly and stand up on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him back, the container of food dangling loosely in your hand behind his head. 

You whisper his name against his lips after a moment, moving your free hand down to his chest and pushing him away gently. He groans softly as he feels you pushing him away, pulling back reluctantly, but not before he gives you one more quick peck.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, giggling as you move your arm back up to rest over his shoulder, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him.

“Wanna kiss my girl for visiting me at work.” he teases softly, loving the way you give him that sweet little smile. If you weren’t at his work right now, with your dad down the hall, he’d have you bent over the desk with your dress around your waist. He licks his lips at the thought, looking down at you hungrily.

“I wish I really was doing that.” you tell him softly, running your empty hand through the hair on the back of his head, which causes him to smile. 

“I know,” he starts sadly, leaning down to kiss you again. “But I can dream.” he states once he pulls away, squeezing your hips gently.

“You look gorgeous today, sweetheart. You know that?” he says after a moment. You feel your face heat up at his words, laughing softly. After months, you’re still not sure how to react when he compliments you, it makes your stomach fill with butterflies every time.

“And you look handsome.” His smile turns to a smirk at your words, and one hand trails from your hip down to your thigh, slowly lifting your dress up as his hand travels up your thigh.

“You wanna show me how handsome you think I am?” he teases softly, hand reaching your panties and trailing across your waistband.

“Maybe not in an empty office.” you say softly, giggling. You bite your lip as his hand gets closer to where you want him, and you know you should tell him to stop, but you can’t find the words.

Just as his hand dips below your waistband, just barely grazing you, you hear footsteps out the door. Both your eyes widen, and Rocker pulls his hand away quickly and smooths your dress back down before whoever it is comes in.

When the door opens, you’re face to face with your father, who looks between the two of you with a surprised look on his face. Rocker takes a step away from you, making it somehow even more obvious that you weren’t just talking in here.

“Sir.” Rocker cuts the silence, crossing his arms over his chest as a stoic expression makes its way onto his face. You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek nervously as you step towards your dad.

“Hi dad.” you say softly, hoping to lessen the angry look on his face.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Hicks asks sharply, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Rocker. “I thought we were past this. Sneaking around like you’re sixteen.” he says, eyes lowering to you, giving you a disappointed look.

“I didn’t know what to say.” you say softly, looking down, embarrassment filling every inch of your body. It’s bad enough that he caught you like this, even if he didn’t actually see anything, but you feel bad for lying to him for so long.

“Why not? I can’t dictate who you date, as much as I want to. You’re not a kid anymore.” he says, sighing, his shoulders relaxing slightly. You nod, looking over at Rocker, who meets your gaze and steps closer to you.

“Sir, I really do like your daughter. She’s my girlfriend, I really don’t wanna do anything to hurt her. I hope you’re okay with that.” he tells your dad, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Your eyes widen slightly at the word girlfriend, and you turn your head to look up at him standing beside you with a small smile.

“I think I’d be more okay with it if I didn’t just find you alone in an empty office together.” he says, slightly joking, but his voice is still laced with anger.

“I brought you lunch, though.” you say, shrugging as you hand the container out to him with an awkward smile. Your dads’ eyes trail down to the container, pursing his lips as he slowly reaches out for it. 

“Is that your homemade pasta sauce?” he asks slowly, eyes narrowed. You nod, smiling softly as you give it to him. You know how much he loves your pasta. He hums softly, looking down at the container in his hands for a moment before his gaze snaps back up to you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he tells you sternly, and you nod, laughing softly at how quickly he caved for your cooking. “And I’ll talk to you later too.” he tells Rocker, a finger pointed at his chest. Rocker nods, jaw clenched as he holds back a smile. This went better than he thought it might, he thinks.  

“Yes sir.” he responds quickly, knowing he’ll probably get an earful later, when you’re not there to soften the blow, but right now, he feels good. It feels like you're finally his, and you don't have to sneak around anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna come visit me?” he asks you sarcastically, turning to walk out the door.

“I’ll be right there.” you call out after him, turning to Rocker and laughing softly when your dad grumbles something about having two minutes.

“Girlfriend?” you ask softly, wrapping your arms around his neck again and tilting your head to the side. 

“Isn’t that what you are?” he replies, tilting his head the same way as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“You never asked me.” you tell him sheepishly, looking down at his chest and smoothing his shirt out. He raises his brows, trying to think over the last few months, and he realizes you’re right. He hadn’t asked, and now he feels like an idiot.

“I guess it slipped my mind. It felt like you already were, so I guess I never saw a point.” he explains, blushing slightly as tilts your head back up to meet his gaze, slightly embarrassed that he never asked.

“It’s okay. I was happy with whatever we were.” you say sincerely, leaning up to kiss him softly. He hums against your lips, kissing you back for a moment until he pulls back, brows furrowed.

“But, you’re okay with being my girlfriend too, right?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, but you see the nervousness in his eyes as he waits for your response.

“Of course. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” he tells him, laughing softly. He lets out a breath, chuckling softly. God, he’s so whipped, he thinks.

“Good to know.” he says seductively, leaning in to kiss you again, trailing his hands to your hips and pulling you flush against him. He leans back after a moment and runs a thumb against your bottom lip, taking in your pretty features.

“You should go. I think that was two minutes.” he teases, moving a hand to your jaw and bringing you back in for one last quick peck.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you ask softly, taking a step back from him. He nods eyes trailing down your body as you back up towards the door. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll see you tonight.”

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[sugar-grigri]

Comedy in CSM is the most important thing to analyze

I accept that the last arc can be read as comic, but you have to push the analysis further; every situation, every comic spring, pursues a theme: identity.

While it had been raised, questioned, it's in this arc that Fujimoto announces that this time we're in the dissection phase.

Denji is accompanied by characters of different narrative rank to enable this operation: a former enemy (still current, but belonging to part 1), a current enemy (introduced in part 2), a potential lover, a guy who idolizes part of his identity, and someone a little more out of touch with everything that's going on.

Everything is there to talk about identity, from the fact that Asa's high-school girl outfit is an advantage for going unnoticed, to the fact that she's stumbling.

Because this way of portraying Asa isn't the right one, since she's a teenager who's always resisted fitting in at her high school.

The guillotine is not insignificant either. It's not to be analyzed as something innocuous - there were plenty of potential demons - but Fujimoto chose ultra-symbolism.

For the guillotine has been manipulated by men of all political persuasions, and is also the symbol of a France seeking to redefine itself.

Above all, it's a symbol of a changing world.

And the rules of the world into which the characters fit are changing.

Fami's struggle against death is one of the first cogs in this change.

Stripping the guards of their clothing is also a way of removing their authority through their uniforms.

The high school girls' uniforms, on the other hand, had the advantage of symbolizing innocence and candor, and of not drawing attention to themselves.

The guards' uniforms contained their authority, so undressing them is enough.

Finding Denji cut up also heralds what's to come, as all the characters help him to literally rebuild his life.

If Asa learns who Chainsaw Man is from Denji's severed head, it's also Fujimoto's way of punishing his main characters.

Asa had always conceived of Chainsaw Man as an evil symbol, a demon for whom she felt no respect or consideration.

So, presenting her with a severed head is always reminiscent of the guillotine: the guilty party's head, presented to the people.

Because Chainsaw Man, before being a hero, is a culprit.

Just as the greatest revolutionaries glorified by the early revolutionaries ended up on the guillotine.

Above all, Fujimoto punishes Denji, because Denji's dream, the only thing he had about his identity - the power to reveal himself - has been taken away from him.

Denji didn't present himself, he was presented as a hunted beast

If Yoru and Katana Man are trying to help Chainsaw Man, it's because without the bloody, invincible enemy that is Chainsaw Man, they lose their objective.

The way they both present themselves from the start is through a desire for revenge

If the beast that would allow them to savor this vengeance is not in state, then all falls away.

What you're witnessing is not a humorous transition arc, but a pause in the work's own narrative.

Because its main character no longer accepts pretending to be Chainsaw Man

So the work stops and starts again from the beginning

What does Denji want to eat?

And what could he have eaten already?

The most obvious response to a Denji who refuses to rebuild himself as the person he used to be, and to whom he no longer wishes to resemble, is to grant him what he desires, since what defines this life before is precisely the fact that he doesn't get what he wants, that he stagnates, and that everything is denied to him, even his own identity.

Sex is something Denji is banking on, basing all his hopes on, since what he's experiencing doesn't please him, so surely the answer must lie in what he hasn't experienced, right? His reasoning is as simple as that. If sex is the foundation of existence, then it also settles existential problems.

It's a disillusionment, an obsession for a teenager, who has been denied the status of child so much and is now obsessed with this """"passage to adulthood"""" because everything would make everything so much more coherent.

Sex is also an element of incessant blackmail, but one for which Denji is willing to put himself at risk because it's his only hope, yet another unknown physical sensation, yet another need to be satisfied.

Denji takes up this objective knowing full well that what he's missing once again is someone, a loved one, to protect. For the old Denji loves, tries to protect, is trapped in Chainsaw Man's infernal cycle of suffering. If he is to return to the way he was, then he must also learn to love again, and to love others.

But love isn't visible; Denji only expresses himself in terms of needs.

The need to be loved and the need to have sex are two different needs. Denji doesn't seek one through the other, he only grasps one.

This conclusion on sex sums up this arc a little, this pretext for making Denji out to be an idiotic character, obsessed with sex as a poorly-written character with subversive aims. It's not about falling into the pitfall of a puppy looking for love.

It's about a boy who has long since stopped accepting that he has to go on living, and who projects himself through his non-experience to find meaning in it.

Not having a mother is part of his non-experience.

[leighsartworks216]

... Oops

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Had this thought when I remembered I had to take my meds tonight. I just think it would be nice to have someone who takes care of you when you're a bit stupid and forget to take very important meds 👉👈

Also, Baja Blast is the actual name of my blue chicken lmao

Also also, this is written in third person POV instead of my usual second person POV

Warnings: swearing, dizziness, anxiety, possibly OOC Harvey

Word Count: 1,592

Masterlist

AO3

Harvey rubbed at his eyes as he slipped out of bed, glancing absentmindedly at the empty space beside him. The farmer was already up, of course. He worried for them when he realized how early they woke up each day, but it couldn't be helped if they wanted to take care of their farm all in one day.

He adjusted his glasses on his face as he shuffled to the kitchen. A cup of hot coffee sat on the counter waiting for him, as it always was. He smiled to himself. Fresh coffee from beans they grew themselves always tasted better than anything Gus could ever dream of making. It was perfectly bitter and smooth as he gulped it down.

He looked out the window of the cabin that overlooked the field left to the farmer by their grandfather. There weren't any unwanted stumps, logs or boulders anymore. Fences penned in the animals as they meandered about, munching on fresh grass. The crops were already watered. The scarecrows teetered slightly in the breeze, the fabric of their gloves almost appearing to wave back at him. He always enjoyed the one that resembled an animated movie character - the farmer had been so proud of it when they stuck it into the ground.

His eyes scanned the paths and fences, searching for his partner.

Hm, they must be in one of the barns.

He stared out a while longer, hoping to catch a glimpse as they came out. A concerned frown etched its way onto his face, but he tried writing off the anxiety swarming in his gut. They're probably just refilling the feeders or refilling their kegs or... Really, it's nothing to get worried about. They knew what they were doing! As long as they stayed out of those damn mines, he had nothing to worry about.

He sighed, shaking his head to remove the flood of worried thoughts in his head. Downing the last of the coffee and placing the mug in the sink, he went off to the bathroom to get ready for a day in the clinic.

He peeked out the window again after he got out of the shower. A blue chicken - a gift from Shane the farmer had named Baja Blast - clucked cheerily as it walked out of the open gate. The farmer usually kept the gates closed, always worrying about coyotes or foxes coming to eat their precious hens. It was unusual for them to keep it open, even if they were inside the coop.

He bustled about in a slight rush to get dressed and gather his things for work, namely a giant thermos of coffee and a lunch prepared for him waiting in the fridge, before slipping out of the cabin. He set it all down on a rocking chair sitting on the porch, creaking in the wind.

Baja Blast clucked up at him as he scooped her into his arms. “C’mon, you shouldn’t be out here. All your food is in here,” he says to the chicken as he steps through the gate and closes it behind him. With a cursory glance back, it didn’t seem like any other chickens got out. He couldn’t remember how many his partner had anymore. He had no idea how in the world they kept up with chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, cows, and pigs on one farm alone. It made his head spin trying to guess how they kept their head on straight with so much to do.

He set Baja Blast down with a white chicken, Madame Clucks. She went back right to pecking away at the grass.

Harvey set his hands on his hips as he looked around. Even out here, he couldn’t see the farmer. Okay, how he was worried. His hands fidgeted anxiously as he stumbled in his loafers through the soft dirt to the coop door. If they weren’t in here, he’d have to check the other barns. And if they weren’t in the barns, he’d have to call Marnie or Shane, or, Yoba forbid, Marlon at the Adventurer’s Guild, just in case they really had slipped off to the mines without telling him. But what if they weren’t in the mines? He’d have to call- Yoba, who could he call? Everyone? Ask if they’ve seen the farmer around today? It wasn’t even 8am, nobody would be up and about to know if they’d gone through town.

He pushed open the door, a bit harder than he meant to as some chickens lingering inside bawk’d and spooked away, leaving feathers in their wake. He couldn’t even focus on that. His eyes immediately landed on the figure sitting on the chest by the mayonnaise machine. They were hunched over and holding their head.

“Farmer!” Harvey rushed forward, all the old anxiety quickly replaced with a thousand more fears. He knelt down by them and rested a hand on their shoulder, looking at them with wide eyes. From this angle he could see their eyes were closed, face pinched in discomfort. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

They shook their head. “‘M just lightheaded. I bent down to grab the eggs and I got really dizzy.”

He pressed the back of his hand to their forehead, brushing back some hair as he pulled away. “You’re not running a fever.” He let out a hesitant breath of relief. “Do you think you can stand?”

After a moment, they nodded. Harvey stood up and supported them as they stood. They wobbled on their feet, but he wrapped an arm around their waist to steady them.

“Easy now. Let’s get you back inside.”

“What about-”

“Don’t you dare put your farm over your own wellbeing,” he warned. “I can call Shane and see if he’ll take over for the day.”

The farmer sighed, relenting. He knew how much peace they found tending to everything themselves, despite how overwhelming it seemed on the outside. They had a whole process for everything, and they’d explained before just how much of the simpler tasks they’d automated with sprinklers and some of Maru’s machines. Still, he was absolutely not about to let them go right back to work when they can barely stand up without a light breeze threatening to knock them over.

Harvey opened the gate and helped them through, shooing Baja Blast back inside as he shut the gate again. His partner gave an undignified snort at the offended squawk she let out. “At least you feel well enough to laugh.”

“Like I said, Harv, I’m just dizzy.” They leaned heavily into him as he led them along the paths to the cabin. Their feet hung up on uneven stones and the stairs leading to the door more than once.

“Dizziness is a symptom of something else. I just want to make sure it really is nothing serious.”

“I know you do.” They offered him a slight smile, but it quickly soured to a frown as they shut their eyes again with a frown. “Yoba, it feels like the whole world is spinning.”

“We’re almost there.” The line would have been less out of place if this wasn’t their home that they knew as well as they knew the names of all their animals, but they were too out of it to point it out and Harvey was too in his own head to notice it. So they stumbled together through the house to the large two-person bed.

The farmer laid down with a whine, pressing the balls of their hands to their eyes. “How is this worse somehow?” they groaned.

Harvey pressed a comforting hand to their shoulder. “Did you eat breakfast this morning?” They hummed affirmatively with a nod. “When did you get back home last night?”

“Like… 1? 1:40?”

He sighed, scratching his brow with his thumb. That was a conversation for later. “Did you take your meds?”

The silence was deafening. They covered their whole face with their hands with a muffled, “Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“So you didn’t take your iron?”

They shook their head but regretted it immediately after, uncovering their face with a grimace. Their hands plopped pathetically to the bed beside them. “No, I completely forgot. I was trying to run back from the beach after fishing all night - I must have been so tired it just slipped my mind.”

He let out a long sigh. “At least it’s nothing serious. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“‘M sorry, Harvey.”

“It’s…” He frowned at the idea of saying ‘okay’. As a doctor, he really couldn’t brush off not taking prescribed medication, especially with a partner with such a severe case of anemia. He’d protest against them running a farm at all if they weren’t so determined. “We’ll figure out a better system, okay? We can put them in a pill-minder and keep them on your nightstand.”

They nodded. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to their forehead, his mustache scratching their skin in a familiar way. “Of course - that is my job after all. Now sit tight, I’ll grab your supplements and call Shane. Anything he needs to know about?”

“Just make sure he pets all of the animals. They deserve daily pats.”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” he chuckled fondly as his footsteps began their retreat from the bedroom to the house beyond.

“I love you!”

His warm laugh rang out again, echoed against the wood Robin nailed together and the photos on the walls. “I love you, too!”

[1864reruns]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ satoru, suguru, shoko, kento & older s/o's

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤgojo satoru, getō suguru, ieiri shōko, nanami kento

tag(s)&warning(s). drabbles, gn! reader, slightly suggestive, unspecified age gap

from vyon. writing nanami's hurt tbh.... he likes his lovers younger, trust me (his no. 1 favourite, sweetest, cutest, unrealest younger one true lover 🎀) on the other hand though..... he deserves to be babygirl'd so hard 😝

satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, goes out of his way to find older lovers; he admits he has a problem and he'll never be cured of it. he doesn’t even know he has a track record for picking out more disciplined figures, with an air of maturity that taunts him across the bar; he doesn’t know he ignores the cheeky winks that are thrown at him from the giggly bar patrons who look too young to even be there in favour of staring at the figure sat alone at the bar, making pleasant conversation with the bartender until shoko is kicking him, telling him to stop eye–fucking the poor stranger and just go up to them. he balks, stumbling through excuses when shoko hits him again and tells him that if it doesn't go well and they're not into wide–eyed virgins (ouch and just untrue) that he could always just leave with one of the many girls who were still giggling at him. she slides him the rest of her cocktail for courage and then sends him off, with a smile that is almost proud.

he does, strangely, feel like a virgin when he manages to catch your attention and he blames it on shoko for putting it into his head. satoru tries his best to come off as presentable, a smile on his face as he leaned on the bar and tells the bartender your next drink is on him. he realises later that you were just entertaining him, amusement coloured your face under the dim lighting around the bar. he manages to get your number somehow. the first few dates are great and he has to beg you to let him play for them all; you always give into him, a displeased look on your face as you tuck your wallet back into your pocket and he ignores the fact that he feels both ashamed to be faced with that scolding look and giddy that he gets his way.

what really helps him realise that he's completely smitten with the maturity and care that comes promised with an older significant other is when you're on your first official date. satoru, ever the gentleman, tries to pay. you narrowed a smile at him, calling him 'toru so, so sweetly and telling him to put his wallet back. now. and the order goes straight to his pants, whoops!

suguru is completely unashamed about it. it's a realisation that's slow in its trickling, suguru just realises that growing older, he had no patience for bumbling fools. it was fun when he was young, having a pretty little thing by his side to feel important, to flaunt his abilities as a man to keep an inexperienced thing happy. then, he gets to a certain age and he realises, it's more trying to keep someone who knows what they want satisfied. suguru loves it. strangely, he loves being the pretty little thing attached to the arm of someone older, more experienced, with shoulders set back, head tipped upwards, a clean, businesslike smile always polite on their face. your eyes always stern— even when trailing over suguru regardless of the position.

it's wonderful it is; the fact that he could allow you to mingle through the large hall without worrying that you'll let something slip through a loose mouth, he doesn't have to keep you by his side for fear of you ruining his life's work. you can mingle with the idiotic patrons he's accumulated throughout the years, you know how to interact with them, how to sway their beliefs, and rid them of any hesitancy they may have had about follow suguru's ideals. it's also perfect when it comes with dealing with nanako and mimiko; you love the two just as you love suguru. you've enough experience and patience to deal with two young girls on yourself, lessening the burden on suguru's shoulders.

you've got a wicked tongue that knows how to tell exaggerated promises, how to assure an unsettled mind. not that he likes you for what you've done for his ideals, but it is a plus. the experience you have also means you know when your tongue needs to be held back. because although suguru adores when he's chasing after the words dripping after your tongue, falling victim to your sweet orders, there's also stressful times where he needs to forget that you've your own tongue, powered by your thoughts and not his.

for shōko, age has rarely ever mattered. for a hedonistic woman like herself, she likes what she likes and allows little things to govern those likes. dating for her never comes long–term in all honesty— there are too many unspoken rules that grate her nerves, needing to share her location, reply in a timely manner, fancy dinner dates more than once a month? the ending of her relationships always seemed so one–sided. most of the time, it'd end over text or with them showing up to her apartment or where she worked and finally shouting all their frustrations at her.

though it might seem heartless, shōko rarely ever feels regret for the way she's behaved. she's made it clear on multiple occasions that she wouldn't be any of those things they wanted yet they stayed, probably thinking they'd be the one to change her and shape her into the attentive, caring figure they could show off to friends. even so, she still falls into relationships— it's never her fault that people spin their own fantastical storyline about their future together so she needn't punish herself for it. a recent relationship she gets into is one that she enjoys; it bares more resemblance to an adult relationship, she assumes that it's because you're older than her.

you're more realistic in this manner. you understand that shōko isn't one for fancy dinner dates, she doesn't have time to respond as quickly as you may want due to her job, she can't meet up whenever you want on a whim. you text at your own leisurely pace and let her texts stream in whenever she has a break or two. after a week of no contact, she begins to think the inevitable— further cemented by the fact that her doorbell is ringing at an unfathomable 1am and she knows no one else would be at her door but you. she grimaces, mourns the short–lived but pleasurable relationship, and then opens the door, bracing herself for your rant. it never comes. instead, you slump into her arms with an apology for showing up so late and showing up at all without saying anything beforehand, you tell her you miss her, and you'd like to stay the night. for reasons unknown to herself, she lets you in.

age isn't something that is high on nanami's radar when he looks at potential lovers. as long as it isn't dramatically different from his own, he allows himself to indulge. in his defense, it's not as if he'd turned a certain age and began swearing off those younger than him; nanami found that he still got along well with those who were two, three years younger than him, but never romantically. nanami's ideas of a relationship was fairly traditional; he found that this wasn't the case for many partners who had been younger than him. their ideals, morals, what they placed importance on, long–term plans were all too different. so nanami begins, subconsciously, striving after those who are closer to his age.

atleast, that's how it starts. it gets worse, you see, after he realises that dating in a more refined, mature, jaded age group brings something altogether different into his life. for the first time in a while, nanami is reminded that he's not even thirty yet and he starts to understand why so many doe–eyed, inexperienced girls flocked to him. there's a certain satisfaction he gets from being the apple of someone's eye— someone much older than him, who's lived long enough to have their pick of the litter yet decidedly stays with him, sensible and confident hands dragging down his sides.

nanami kento, all the way into his 20s, learns that he enjoys being pampered. he loves it. adores the unwavering focus he gets when he comes back home to your penthouse and gets to fall into your arms as you work out kinks in his shoulders; he gets to lay there, weightless, as you undress him, soft and slow, pressing kisses on any skin you get exposed before you're urging him up to put on something more comfortable so you can cuddle. that, or he gets to sulk on your bed, sending you pictures of what he was doing throughout the day whilst you were at work, only feeling worse when your texts are late. it's all worth it in the end, when you finally get home, allowing him to do as he wanted. though the wait is gruelling, your warmth surrounding him when you finally sink into bed with him, your touches more wandering and perverse as your mouth presses over fading bruises on his neck.

[awriterinthenight]

10 Thing I Hate About You, Part 2-Luke Castellan

words: 2178

warnings: Swearing, sword fighting, mention of murder. Some small notes btw, I've stuck to the movie a bit so far to help set up the story, after this I'll probably start branching off. Also I love putting in some of my favorite scenes and lines, its like my favorite part of writing this

summary: Chris now needs a plan to ask out Bianca. So, him, Connor, and Travis need someone to take out reader, but they need someone to pay for it. So, who better than Joey to pay Luke to do so.

"Hello Y/N, make anyone cry today?" Dionysus asked, in an unamused tone. Her and Mr. D had always had a small relationship, due to the fact she'd been there for so long, and if Mr. D ever wanted to hate on campers, she was the perfect counselor to do it with.

"Sadly no, but it's only 4:30," she said, walking towards her table where she sat by herself. Since she and her sister were in different cabins they didn't sit with each other, and never really snuck over to the other's table, unless they had something important to share.

When dinner ended she walked with Bianca towards the campfire with Bianca's cabin. "So, why were you walking with Joey," Y/N asked, protective of her little sister.

"We were just walking. It's not I'm him," she said, used to her sister's protectiveness by now.

Y/N scoffed, "Yeah, cause I would never let you," she told her sister.

"Why can't I date anyone, it's just a boy?" Bianca asked, since recently she'd been getting annoyed by the fact that she apparently wasn't allowed to date anyone.

"Because, have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to this camp," the older girl said.

Bianca sighed, "Can't I just go on one date, it can't hurt," she pleaded with her sister, desperate to have at least one normal part of her life.

Y/N rolled her eyes, sighing, "Fine, you can date," she started, getting her sister's hopes up, "When I do," she finished, crushing Bianca's spirit.

"But, no one dates you," her sister complained.

"Great, then you won't date either, problem solved," she said, walking away now, since she never went to the campfires, because she thought they were boring.

"You suck," Bianca mumbled, so her sister wouldn't hear.

Unfortunately she did, and mocked her, "You suck."

***

Chris was out by one of the picnic tables waiting for Bianca to show up. He'd spent the past couple of days learning as much Latin as possible. When Bianca finally showed up, she seemed in a hurry to leave.

"Can we make this quick, Stephanie and Joe are having a hideous break up in the pavilion, again" she told him.

He stumbled over his words, trying to do his best to ask her out, "Well I was thinking we could start with all pronunciations," he said, rather nervous to be near her.

She groaned, "Not all the boring stuff please," she complained, rather hating Latin.

"W-well there is an alternative," Chris said, mustering up all the courage he had.

Bianca lit up, excited that maybe there was an alternative, "There is?"

Chris took in a breath, nodding his head, "Yeah, we can do something not boring, like maybe getting food together sometime," he finally asked, anxious for her answer.

"Are you asking me out?" Bianca asked, a bit shocked, "That's so cute, what's your name again?"

"Uh, Chris. Look I know your sister doesn't let you date, but I was thinking if it was for Latin tutoring, then maybe-" he said, getting cut off by Bianca.

"Oh wait a minute, Curtis," she said, getting his name wrong.

"Chris," he said, correcting her.

She continued, ignoring his correction, "My sister just came up with a new rule. I can date when she does," she told him, trying to figure out a work around of her sister's absurd rule.

"Really, then I heard there's this great spot by the-" he tried telling her, getting cut off again.

"The problem is that my sister is a particularly cruel person, no one would want to date her," Bianca said, presenting him the main issue, slightly insulting her sister.

Chris started to lose hope, but tried to think of a solution, "Well, there has to be someone willing to date a difficult person like her," trying desperately to think of a solution, "People do such extreme stuff all the time, it'll be like extreme dating."

Bianca smiled brightly, "You'd find someone like that for me?" she asked, touched by how much he was willing to do for her.

"Hell yeah, of course I would," he exclaimed, joyful that maybe he could actually go one a date with her.

***

Chris met up with Travis the next day in hopes of finding someone willing to date Bianca's sister.

"I have put together the perfect group of eligible bachelors," Travis said, leading Chris to a hidden part of the camp. When Chris arrived he saw a group of...odd people, but maybe this could work.

"Hi, are any of you interested in dating Y/N Stratford."

The first guy just laughed in their faces.

The second one sat in silence, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I've never been that ripped," the guy who was probably high, said.

"Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?" the next guy asked, as they decided he was a lost cause.

The last guy was the worst. Screaming bloody murder as if they murdered his family in front of him.

***

"Didn't I tell you, it was pointless. No one will date her," Connor said, as Chris and Travis filled him in on everything that happened.

Chris looked up at some random guy across the art and crafts room and asked, "Hey, what about him?" as they guy took a pair of scissors and carved something into the table.

Travis and Connor turned around, then immediately back at Chris, "No no no, not him. I heard he almost lit a satyr on fire once. He just did a year away from camp," Travis warned him.

Chris smirked, "Well at least he's horny," he joked.

Connor just shook his head, "We're serious man, he's whacked."

"I heard he sold liver on the black market for a new set of speakers," Travis said, spreading a rumor that was probably false.

Chris looked back over as he lit a cigarette, and his friend put it out. "He's our guy," Chris assured the Stolls. He continued to look until the guy looked back, scaring the three of them. "Who is he anyway?" Chris asked, curious about the guy he was about to set up with his future girlfriend's sister.

Travis sighed, "That's Luke Castellan, Hermes counselor. Technically our brother," Travis informed.

"Bit of an asshole sometimes, but he has his good days," Connor added, "But mostly people ignore him."

***

Chris and Connor entered the arena where Luke was training, in hopes of getting him to go out with Y/N. "Hi, so I was wondering if you-" Chris started, getting cut off by Luke pointing his sword at Chris' throat, "Never mind," he said, no walking out as fast as possible.

***

"So, how do we get him to date Y/N," Travis asked, after hearing Chris and Connor's story of their interaction with Luke.

Chris was deep in thought, "Well, maybe we could pay him, but we don't have any money," he suggested.

"Well then what we need is a backer," Travis suggested, getting confused looks, "You know, someone with money who's stupid."

***

Travis, who drew the short end of the straw, went and sat at Joey's table, "Is that a peach, you don't see many around here," he said, reaching for it, but getting his hand slapped.

"You lost?" Joey questioned, annoyed by Travis sitting at the Ares table.

"Well no, I just came to run something by you," Travis said, as Joey took his face and started to draw on it. "I had an idea I thought I would run by you."

"Does this conversation have a purpose?"

Travis cleared his throat, "Well yes, you want to date Bianca Stratford right.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"You know how her sister is whacked, right. Well she made a new rule that Bianca can date when she does. Now you need someone to date her, since she's an extreme headcase. So, you could pay someone like him to do it," Travis explained, pointing to Luke over at the Hermes table.

"What's in it for you," Joey asked, suspicious of why he would help him.

Travis cleared his throat again, "If I'm walking in the halls and I say hello, you say it back," Travis proposed.

"Yeah, yeah, you're cool by adjacence," Joey said, "Well, I'll think about it." Travis sat there a minute longer than he should have, "That means scram," Joey told him harshly.

The next moment Travis got up and went back to his brother and friend, "He's on board," he informed them of their victory.

"That's great," Chris exclaimed, as Connor patted Travis' shoulder and walked away, both of them trying not to laugh.

"I have a dick on my face, don't I," Travis exclaimed, watching his friend and brother walk away chuckling.

***

Joey approached Luke, who was sitting on a bench with some friends, "Hey, nice cigarette, huh," he said, as Luke lit another cigarette.

"What," Luke said, confused.

"You see that girl over there," Joey said, as Luke nodded, "That's Y/N Stratford, I want you to take her out."

"Sure, Sparky," Luke said, blowing out smoke.

"Look she's a bit whacked. She has this rule that her sister can't date till she does, and I want to take her sister out so-" he told Luke before getting cut off.

"Good story, not my problem."

"Would you make it your problem if I offered compensation?" Joey asked, trying to bribe him.

Luke seemed to be in thought for a moment, "How much?" he asked.

"20 bucks," he said, looking over at her where she just knocked a camper over while sword fighting them, "Fine, 30."

Luke got up and started to walk around Joey, "If I take her out that'll cost me about 40 bucks, and she'll probably want dinner. Now that's around 55 bucks, then to cover other costs that'll be about 75," Luke said, stating his final price.

"This isn't a negotiation, take it or leave it," Joey said, starting to get annoyed.

"50 and we have a deal," Luke offered. Joey then handed him the cash in agreement, as Luke went to go talk to Y/N.

***

1st person, Y/N Stratford

I was walking back from where I was training, to head to my bag and grab water. Unluckily for me, I was intercepted on my way there, "Hey there princess, how are you?" he asked, sounding strangely upbeat.

"Sweating like a pig, and you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

He smiled, "Now that's the way to get a guy's attention," he said sarcastically.

"My mission in life," I said, my voice full of annoyance and sarcasm. I started to walk away from him, but he followed.

"I'll pick you up on Friday then," he said, walking by my side.

I just scoffed, shaking my head, "Yeah, Friday uh-huh," I said, annoyed he wouldn't take a hint and leave.

"I can show you places you've never seen before," he continued, trying to get me to agree.

"Where, like Zeus' fist," I said, trying to walk away, "Do you even know my name, screw boy?"

"I know a lot more than you think," he said, rather cryptically. At that point I just walked away, leaving him there to ponder.

Over in a corner by the arena Chris, Connor, and Travis were watching the whole scene, "We're screwed," Chris stated bluntly.

"I don't want to hear that defeatist attitude," Connor said, trying to not give up hope,

"We're screwed," Chris said again, but more cheerfully and upbeat this time.

"That's the spirit," Travis exclaimed.

***

"Nice music taste," I heard someone say, as I was leaving the Hermes cabin. Usually some of them are able to smuggle in good cds, so I would buy some occasionally.

"What are you stalking me now," I accused, annoyed at him.

He scoffed, "This is my cabin, and I saw you leaving. Thought I'd said hi at least," he defended.

"Hi," I deadpanned, walking out of the cabin.

He followed me out of the cabin asking, "Not a big talker, huh?"

"Not with you," I stated bluntly.

"You're not afraid of me are you?"

"Afraid of you, why would I be afraid of you?"

"Well, most people are."

"Well I'm not."

"Maybe you're not afraid of me, but I'm sure you've thought about me naked."

"Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby oh baby," I mocked sarcastically. At that he finally walked away seeming to give up. Just when I thought I was in the clear for being left alone, Joey had to walk past, shoulder checking me.

I wasn't gonna let that slide, so I stuck out my foot tripping him. Startled, he fell flat on his face, so hard I could hear his nose crack.

"Oh, you bitch," he exclaimed, standing back up.

"Whoops."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Luke standing there, looking proud, which made me slightly smile, but I did my best to hide it. He still noticed though.

[ppnuggiex]

　　　　　　OCTATRIO x gn reader

　　　　『　azul ,, jade ,, floyd ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> taking interest in their mer form

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack ,, vulnerability from jade and azul ,, floyd being a pain in the ass

　　— some headcannons and writing blurbs for octatrio <3 they mean sm to me . might make dating hcs of them but genderswapped ,, or like dating them but theyre girls yknow ? 😭 i stumbled across some oneshots of them as girls on ao3 and now im becoming addicted to fem azul 😿🙏 also made little divider things <3 i kinda like them but they wouldnt become transparent 🤬🤬 so theyre just white n stuff 😞😞 as always enjoy and feel free to request :D

| • getting azul to trust you enough to show his merform took quite a while ,, a lot of patience and reassurance but it was worth it in the end

| • long tentacle arms expanding and curling with himself ,, flexing suction cups and reaching afar to stretch

| • face tinted red ,, glasses covering his eyes as he glanced downwards ,, his lips turned out in a pout as you gazed at his form

| • he was so sure you'd be disgusted ,, tell him never to contact you ever again ,, leaving him there in shambles with his heart broken

| • yet it never happened ,, rather the opposite instead ,, your eyes wide with excitement but voice soft and calm as to not spook azul more than he already was

| • a small " may i ?" with your hands outstretched towards him ,, ready to examine him as much as he'd let you

| • he'd only nod slowly ,, arms curling within himself once again and eyes darting around all over to ensure no one was near to see the sight before him ,, or in case he needed a quick getaway

| • azul is quite touch starved and touch sensitive ,, not used to having someone's hands over him in any sort of form ,, other than in violent means

| • how gentle you treat him ,, as though he were to wither away under your touch ( which he did feel like doing )

| • everything down under his consent ,, and his supervision of course ,, your brain and curiosity end up satiated ,, pressing a small kiss to azul's cheek in thanks for this memory

| • treasuring every touch you can get ,, reassuring azul that he's quite a beauty rather or not he thinks so ,, and last but not least a thank you for allowing this ,, for letting him trust you this much and that you would never break said trust

-

        cool to the touch yet smooth ,, your fingertips roamed over one of his appendages . azul sucked in a breath ,, eyes fixated on your fingers and awaiting for any depricating comments from your lips . though he never expected you to smile and whisper praises to him . " you're quite beautiful , azul ." it was small and short ,, yet it meant a lot to him . " i do absolutely adore the gradation from black to purple here ,, its quite lovely if i say so ." you murmured under your breath ,, eyes raking over his form as you played with the suction cups on the underside of his appendage .

        your eyes glanced back up ,, meeting azul's as they took in every movement of yours . " thank you for this azul ." you whispered ,, hands leaving his tentacle to wrap around his neck as you coddled against him . " i understand how private this is for you ,, how important it is . i really appreciate this azul ,, i'm proud of how far you've gotten ." you whispered against him ,, eyes still holding his as tears welded up in his soft iridescent gaze . his arms slowly wrapped around you ,, chest heaving as he tried to keep his composure around you . yet the more you sung genuine praise ,, the more his heart clenched in his chest and the faster his tears started to roll down his face .

        he allowed himself to bury his face in your neck ,, soft cries being blocked against your skin as your hand rubbed against his back ,, lips pressing kisses to his shoulder as you let him be vulnerable . " its okay azul ,, go ahead and let it out . i'm here for you ,, i promise ." you said ,, feeling his tentacles creep across your skin to wrap themselves around your torso . just this one moment ,, this shared memory of yours ,, he let his walls down and let you in ,, the vulnerability of his current state . your lips pressed another kiss to his shoulder ,, hearing his sobs start to die down as you rest your head against his shoulder .

| • its not often that hes surprised or caught off guard ,, like in this instance for example

| • he has caught your gaze before whenever he happened to be in his more natural form ,, how your eyes would eye him up and down

| • yet you never said a word about it once ,, keeping all your thoughts to yourself ,, all your secrets locked away

| • jade had gotten curious himself ,, curious of what you thought of him in this state ,, though he was never self conscious about it once

| • it didnt bother him whether or not you liked his natural state more than his more humane one ,, it wasnt of his concern to know or need that information

| • and it surely settled that way in his mind ,, at least until he got closer to you until eventually you both ended up together in a relationship

| • he couldnt contain the thoughts clouding his mind ,, it was near impossible to put a lid on them ,, as they would come back in a mere few hours to haunt him again

| • so when you asked to see his merform ,, he was quite ecstatic ,, caught offguard yet it wasnt an ask he would refuse

| • with the two of you in one of octavinelle's pools ,, alone together with jade in the water floating about ,, you on floor of the room with wide eyes and a smile ,, jade contemplated the emotions he felt

| • somewhat vulnerable ,, yet not in a bad way he supposed ,, watching as your eyes gazed all about him before you asked if you could touch him

| • his heart may have fluttered at that ,, but he wouldnt allow you to know that ,, eyes lidded as he swam closer to the edge of the pool and letting you feed your curiosity

-

        your hands reached out to the finals where his ears wear ,, stroking one softly with your thumb as jade laid his head in your lap . " enjoying yourself pearl ?" his sultry voice asked ,, mismatched eyes gazing into your own as he allowed you to fuel your curiosity . " yes ,," was all you could muster out ,, allowing your hands to trail over his scales coating his neck ,, collarbone and dragging down his arms . he was muscular ,, though not as much as jack was . you could still feel the flesh as your fingertips glided alongside his upper arms ,, digging in gently before moving on .

        jade could feel his heart pick up pace slightly ,, eyes widening slightly as your eyes shined ,, enthralled and mesmerized by his luxurious scales . you didnt notice ,, too busy being entranced at the gradation of his scales ,, eyes glazing over little nicks and scars he's gotten over the years .

| • similar to jade ,, hes been in his more natural state around you ,, noticing your staring and has teased you for it before

| • he'll call you out on how rude it is to stare before grabbing you off the ground and dragging you into the pool with a loud giggle

| • " shrimpy's so silly ! if you wanna look or touch ya just gotta ask small fry ,," he'll remark as he rubs his cheek against yours with his long body coiling around you

| • even then it takes you a while to finally ask ,, a gentle night at the beach during sprink break having mustered up enough courage to ask

| • floyd didnt mind ,, enjoying your flustered state as he allowed you to rub your hands on his scales

| • who knows he may try to get you to itch a spot for him that he cant reach ,, or splash water onto your face with his tail

| • he'll laugh as you grumble about ,, trying to wipe the water away only to be met with even more water ,, this time using his hands instead of his tail

| • when joining him in the water you have to be careful of what you do ,, after all if you do try to run from his grip he'll only take it as indication that you wanna play chase

| • like a snake he'll slither within the water ,, hands reaching out to grab at you and pull you close to him

| • on days he happens to be more chill for the time being he lets you gaze all over ,, not bothering to call you out on your obsessive staring

| • its moments like these that you can observe floyd in his beauty ,, rather than trying to escape it

-

        " floyd !" you grumbled as he splashed water at your face ,, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut . " for five seconds can you not splash me ?" you asked. he could only shrug ,, dorky smile on his face . " shouldn't have been starin' ,," is all he'll say ,, waiting for you to open your eyes only to splash you again . at that moment ,, you didnt care anymore and lunged forward at him ,, arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to splash water into his face as payback .

         unfortunately for you ,, he'd already dived underwater and dragged you along with him without warning . when you let go and resurface ,, he's at the other end of pool laughing at your flailing arms . " for one minute can i admire you ?!" you huffed ,, glaring over in his general direction as you swam towards the ledge of the pool . it doesn't take long until hes coming up right behind you ,, grabbing at your waist and bringing you back to him . " all you had to do was ask shrimpy ." he'll say as he floats along his back ,, you ontop of him and in his arms as he lets you look him over with adoration in your eyes .

[mothiir]

sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

[random0lover]

Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

~~

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

~

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

[mysicklove-main]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐇𝐂𝐬

With: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Mina Ashido, and Ochako Uraraka

A/N: Different types of drunks are so funny to me. I love watching some ppls personalities just doing a 180, its always so amusing to me. I also might write one for demon slayer characters, I was on the fence about mha or kny. lmk if i should do it for my other loves :)

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀

Light Weight/Sloppy Drunk

Light. Weight. I mean everyone know it, after one drink his cheeks are flushed and he is grinning like a mad man.

His former classmates love to just offer him drink after drink, just to see him get wasted.

Sloppy drunk. Im sorry, but he is. Slurring his words, hiccuping, stumbling everywhere. 

He always ends up falling somehow, you find him laughing on the floor with people crowding over him trying to help him up.

Talks to everyone he can find. Literally they cant even understand what he is saying because he is slurring his words and rambling about everything.

”Im not drunk, Y/N! You're drunk!” As he is on the floor, refusing to grab onto your hands to help him up. He's so stubborn.

He always ends up vomiting. 

You basically have to pour water down his throat to sober him up.

He refuses to go out the next couple of days cause he is so embarrassed of his actions.

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔

Silent/Clingy Drunk

His usual scowl disappears, and for once in his life he looks…relaxed?

Just watches his friends do stupid things without any yelling.

Seems to scout for you the second you leave his sight.

Lots of mumbling under his breathe that nobody hears.

Sticks with you most of the time. Only talking when someone talks to him, but even so he gives one word responses.

You only know that he is drunk because of his flushed appearance and slight smile. Its so rare to see him smile in front of people.

Mumbles compliments in your ear, and plays with the hems of your outfit.

Holds your hand the entire night and follows you around.

Randomly will disappear and come back with another round of drinks for the table. Instantly becomes everyones favorite drunk.

Yells at everyone the next day if the mention anything about him being “soft”

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

Relaxed/Smiling Drunk

Its rare to see Shoto give a full smile, but after a couple of shots he just can't stop grinning.

Is surprisingly much more talkative and friendly towards his ex-classmates.

But the second he finds somewhere to sit, he is stationed there for the rest of the night.

He acts more high than drunk istg

Just sits back and smiles, laughing at everything that comes out his friends mouth.

Its so cute though, because he gets so excited when talking to you.

He def slurs his words but you cant even tease him because he looks like he is having the time of his life.

One of those drunks that finds out they have a random special talent. Like have u seen that video of the drunk dude that finds out he is fantastic at piano?? Thats shoto.

Laughs at his self when he tries to walk in a straight line. “Look Y/N. I cant walk straight!” You just have to go along with it

Doesn't get hungover at all! But also doesn't remember anything lol

𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

Crying/Emotional Drunk

Something about it just gets him so emotional. He doesn't even know why.

He drinks and cries, drinks and cries, until you have to drag him home.

Most of the time he is crying about like the least important things like how good you look right now or how crazy it is that he is dating someone like you.

Other times he tries to go all “meaning of life” on everyone. It throws everyone the fuck off and you always have to try to get him back into the moment. Its so funny tho 

When he bumps into someone, he apologizes so much it makes the other person feels uncomfortable.

Will randomly go silent and then start crying again. The bartender always looks so concerned. 

You have to bring him home early bc he just ruins the vibe. he is not allowed to drink when you guys are tying to relax and enjoy the moment.

Sober him is way more fun lmaooo

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈

Flirty/Touchy Feely Drunk

Are you surprised? 

Its like every single pickup line is blurted out no matter the moment.

You'll be in the middle of a conversation and all of the sudden you hear some bullshit like. “Hey baby, are you from Tennessee?” “Denki dont.” “Cause youre the only ten I see” scares off every single girl you were talking to.

Tries to get you to do lewd ass dancing with him and acts like you killed him when you decline.

Hand on your waist, or thigh, or neck, or ass if you dont slap him away. Genuine pervert.

You catch him flirting with Bakugou once and you got so much second hand embarrassment from the way the blonde just stared at him in disgust.

Tries to unbutton his shirt, and about every ten minutes you have to rebutton it for him. “What, you cant handle all of this?” You almost kill him.

Overall, at least he is a partier and you know youll have fun with him.

Gets HORRIBLE hangovers tho. You are stuck taking care of him the next day (again)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎

Affectionate/Friendly Drunk

Makes friends with every single person she sees.

The drunk girls you see in the bathroom that hypes you up? Thats her.

Especially if you are her partner?? God damn she compliments you so much.

Ends up helping the DJ chose songs when you guys go to clubs. Seriously it is so funny how she ends up talking to everyone.

So much dancing. So so much dancing. Even if its just the two of you, you guys are dancing.

But also mom too, like makes sure everyone has water and isnt getting too fucked up (izuku). Keeps everyone a their best.

You stumble over, she catches you with the biggest smile on her face. Wont even tease you, just continues to make the vibes just absolutely great.

Holds her alcohol perfectly. Enough to get crazy, but she isnt stumbling nor slurring her words.

I just want to go clubbing with her.

𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐎 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐀

Angry/Fight Picker Drunk

This seems like a shocker. What precious ochako getting mad at people???

Yes. She picks fights.

ALWAYS with dudes that her twice her size too. Be prepared to fight istg.

Yells at people who are too drunk (Izuku) and tells them to get their shit togehter. You have to use your hand to cover her mouth before she gets kicked out.

So many curse words. So many.

Literally gets approached by nobody because she has the biggest frown on her face. 

You have to try to ease her up by dancing with her or showering her with compliments.

Cheers her up for a bit, and she goes back to all smiley and happy, but then someone interrupts the two of you, and she goes back to being pissed.

You have to watch her 24/7.

She doesnt drink that much anymore because she knows how she gets lol

[chryslerbuildingfeathers]

This fic was made for Ecto-Implosion 2024! Based on art by @shadowfaerieammy

Magical Ghost

It all starts with a flash: Blindingly bright, and toxically green. A sickly-sweet electric smell permeates the air and dances on the tongue.

And then poor Danny stumbles out emitting an otherworldly glow, and wearing...

Is that a frilly black dress?

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-" Tucker nearly faints.

"D-Danny?" Sam calls, face white as a sheet.

Danny wobbles in place. "Y-yeah?"

"Oh thank goodness!!" Sam and Tucker rush toward him.

"Stupid question, but- Danny, are you alright?" Sam asks nervously while the two finish checking all of his limbs are in place.

"Also, what's with the dress?" Tucker adds. Sam elbows him.

"I-I think so Sam. Dress?" Danny says, voice unsteady.

He looks himself over dazedly, blinks at his cutesy-gothic attire, shakes his head a couple times, then looks again.

"DRESS?!" He suddenly cries in alarm, his face flushed... Green?

"That's what gets you worried right now?" Sam asks incredulously, "Not that you just opened a portal to the ghost zone on top of yourself??"

"Uhm... Yes." Danny and Tucker respond in unison.

"Hopeless." Sam sighs.

"Well anyway, what should we do now?" Tucker asks Sam.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we can't just leave him like this; he's glowing! In a sparkly dress!"

"Actually, I kinda like the dress." Danny mumbles.

"You know," Sam thinks out loud, "This is just like that one anime. Carpenter Sun?"

"Ohh yeah!" Tucker's face lights up with realization. "Danny, you're like a magical girl!"

“A magical what?!?”

“A magical girl!” Danny’s friends respond in unison.

“It’s a genre of show-” Sam starts to explain, only to be interrupted by a loud “Crash!” from the entrance of the basement..

“Oh Danno~!” Danny’s father bellows merrily as he bounces down the stairs.

“Crap. What do we do? Sam? Tucker?” Danny looks between the two in panic.

Too soon, his father reaches them.

“So, what’re you kids up to? Danny-boy showing off the family business- Er, Danny? Why are you wearing a dress?”

“Be-Because I’m a girl?” Danny stutters out.

Mr. Fenton gasps.

“Egads, this whole time?!?” He rushes quickly back to the stairs, talking as he goes. “Jazzypants was right; I have been missing out on important details of my kids’ lives! I better tell Maddy and crack open those parenting books, fix paperwork…”

He pauses shortly at the top step, turning back to the trio.

“Don’t worry, Dan- Er, Daughter! I’ve got everything under control.” He poses confidently.

“Er, thanks Dad.” Danny calls back.

Another crash, and Mr. Fenton is gone. Somehow having completely missed Danny’s snow white hair and glowing green eyes in his fervor…

“Soo…” Tucker breaks the following awkward silence. “What now? Are you like, actually a girl, dude?”

“Tucker!” Sam reprimands.

Danny stares down at the floor, blushing brightly. “I don’t know. Maybe? This whole thing kinda snowballed out of control.”

“Well,” Sam determines, “Whoever and whatever you are, you’ll always be our friend. Right Tucker?”

“Right.” Tucker grins.

The two have to head home for the night and leave with reassuring pats to Danny’s shoulders. Danny dodges his family and heads straight to bed.

–

The following morning Danny wakes dress-and-glowstick free, to the sound of a small voice calling from above.

Danny cracks open their eyes to find…

A little green floating blob, with its own eyes staring right back.

“Agh!” Danny shouts in surprise.

“Agh!” The blob shouts in reply.

The two continue staring, and then-

“Ahem! Er, um, I'm glad to have your attention.” The blob mimes straightening a necktie.

“You can talk?!” Danny splutters in shock.

“Yes, well. I do have a mouth, don't I?”

“Uhm-”

“Nevermind.” The ghost continues. “I, my new companion, am Blobby! The blob ghost. I have been sent from the Ghost Zone to be your new familiar!” If the ghost had a chest, it would be puffing up proudly. Danny could tell.

“Familiar? Ghost Zone? Blobby?!? - Wait, no, the name makes sense… But what's going on here?” Danny's head was spinning.

“You, my friend, have been selected to be - wait for it - an all new, super cool, Ghostly Magical Girl!” The little ghost zooms around the room in excitement.

“You get to have neat powers, a frilly black dress, a fancy transformation sequence, and, best of all, the pleasure of my company! All to protect Amity from the crazy ghosts that will no doubt invade your town now that the portal’s been opened. You’re welcome!” Blobby smiles brightly.

“But I don't want to be a magical girl.” Danny argues frustratedly.

Blobby stares seriously, deep into Danny’s eyes.

“Are you sure about that?”

Danny raises a hand to argue further, then stops herself.

Blobby nods with satisfaction.

“But wait, what did you mean by ‘ghostly’?”

“By 'ghostly', I mean ghostly! You’re now half ghost. You can fly, turn invisible, walk through walls, who knows where your limits lie!”

“Ugh, my parents are gonna kill me!” Danny groans.

“Ah, ah, ah~” Blobby chirps, “Half-kill you!”

Danny decides to save that existential crisis for later, and instead begins getting up for the day.

Blobby fades out with a simple wave.

-

It's not that being a magical girl doesn't sound cool to Danny, it does. Dresses and superpowers seem pretty great, actually. But everything happened so quickly, and are magical girls allowed to be astronauts?

What if this stops her from going to space?!

Plus there's the whole ‘being half-dead’ thing. She's just going to avoid acknowledging that from now on, she thinks.

With worries floating through her head, Danny gets dressed and wanders down the stairs - only for Jasmine to intercept her on the landing.

“So. A girl, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Not into boys?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little bit?” She tries.

“Nope.”

“Darn. Could've sworn.”

Danny rolls her eyes and carries on down the steps.

After a short duel with her breakfast and an awkward conversation with her trying-wayy-too-hard parents, Danny heads to Nasty Burger to meet up with her friends.

“...So?” Tucker says.

“Well…?” Sam adds.

The two flick their eyes over Danny questioningly until finally, she breaks.

“Alright, yes, I'm a magical girl! You guys were right.” Danny throws her hands up in defeat.

“I knew it!” Sam shouts happily.

“Congrats dude!” Tucker grins.

“Thanks, I guess, but there's more to it than that.”

The ghostly-girl goes on to explain her morning conversation with Blobby and her worries about her newly minted powers.

As she gets more and more worked up, she begins to sparkle and float up from her seat.

Her friends go wide-eyed and quickly pull her back down.

“It's alright Danny; things’ll work out!” Sam assures.

Danny goes to argue, only for Tucker to cut in with:

“Yeah, Danica, you seriously need to chill.”

“Danica!?!” Danny cries in outrage.

“Yeah, you know. Thought you might wanna give some new names a try. Darlene?” Tucker continues arily.

“Tucker-” Danny growls.

“Daphne?” Sam idly suggests.

“I know what you’re doing-”

“Delilah? Darcy?” Tucker posits.

“That's it!”

Danny jumps from her seat and chases the two wildly out of the restaurant; Sam and Tucker grinning madly all the while. The whole trio quickly bursts into laughter once they make it outside, and soon collapse in a nearby park together gasping for air.

Only, Danny’s exhales are a bit more misty than the weather calls for…

Blobby appears suddenly before them, an urgent look on his face. The trio hastily return to their feet.

“So sorry to interrupt, but Danny? Do you remember that thing I briefly mentioned-”

A scream echoes from the other side of the park.

“-About ghostly invaders?” Blobby fidgets nervously.

“Er, yeah?”

A trashcan goes flying over the group’s heads.

“We’re gonna need you to transform like, now, dude.” Tucker says.

“Right. How do I do that?” Danny asks, looking back toward Blobby.

A group of panicked picnickers scramble past the four, not even noticing the floating familiar.

The ghost wiggles anxiously in the air. “Simply have your friends cover for you, think magical ghost thoughts, and say a cool catchphrase.”

“Guys?”

“Right!”

Sam and Tucker huddle Danny up against a nearby wall.

“Alright, by the power of graysku-!”

“Nope.”

“In the name of the moon, I will-!”

“Nu-uh.”

“Er, I'm going ghost?” Danny tries.

“That works.”

“I'm going ghost!”

Vibrant green light erupts around Danny as she suddenly floats off the ground. Her colors turn to negatives in a bright sweep of light, and with a twirl her gothic dress appears.

Her transformation finishes just in time. In the sky, flying towards them with flames in her hands, a screeching ghost woman makes her appearance.

Sam and Tucker flee with a short “Good luck!” Leaving Danny to narrowly dodge the incoming fireballs on her own.

“Blobby? What am I supposed to do now?!”

“Try jumping and punching.”

“Gee, thanks!”

Danny does, in fact, try jumping and punching. And kicking. And a whole lot of flailing around in general, really.

Results? Mixed.

But the attempts mostly end with her bruised and the evil ghost lady cackling madly.

“Alright, this clearly isn't working. Any other ideas?”

“Yeah!” Blobby shouts, “Try blasting her.”

“How?” A singed Danny urges.

“Imagine your hand is a gun!”

Danny sighs deeply, dodges another ball of flame, resigns herself to what she's about to do, then lines up her aim and-

-Huh. Apparently finger guns can be deadly.

The blast is excessive, spreading shockwaves far through the surrounding area. Impact comes with an amazing burst of blinding bright light and an echoing “I’ll get you~!!”

When the dust finally settles, the day is clear. The park is a wreck. The ghost lady, Blobby, and the dress are all gone. Sam and Tucker peak out from behind a nearby tree.

Danny catches her breath and collapses back onto the ground. Sam and Tucker join her.

“Huh. Maybe this ‘magical girl' thing isn't so bad after all.” She decides. “That was kind of fun.”

[mutfruit-salad]

i find the way fans are already shipping cooper with lucy over her black love interest very telling of the clueless white supremacy and media illiteracy in the fandom. coop and lucy are obviously being setup as a father-daughter duo who need to learn caution/kindness from each other to survive, but these weirdos can’t have their white-man fave without a self-insert stand-in for 1 season. and the way people are glorifying cooper’s character is a load of bs - a morally greg white guy who realises he endorsed and was sympathetic to a massive war crime/political injustice… so he goes on to indiscriminately kill/hurt more people who have no idea of, nor say in the bigger picture that he was complicit in… is sooo boring and nothing new. also, giving him a biracial daughter as an accessory to show he’s Not Racist isn’t something we’ve seen half of a million fuckin times before 🤪 the way the show back-tracked on fallout’s message of blind american nationalism and militarism being a problem to It’s All Capitalism’s Fault, seemingly in reaction to the US currently endorsing and aiding in foreign war crimes, and past ones becoming common-knowledge, is horseshit on a platter.

I find the complete lack of a character for his daughter really horrifying- how she only exists to die dramatically for the sake of his sadness. It's odd because his wife is a well-established important character, yet their daughter is not allowed to be a person.

Fallout, in general, has had a habit of completely ignoring racism- presenting the prewar world as some fully integrated post racism utopia. Which is weird when the games regularly display overt anti Chinese (and broader anti Asian) sentiments in prewar logs and ads. This is a problem both the classic games AND the bethesda games have- racism has always been a touchy subject to the devs of the series and it seems like every game they've been content to ignore it, occasionally invoking it for horror or stumbling headlong into depicting it without realizing.

The way Ghoulgins regrets his past and just takes it out on everyone around him is absurd and plays into a lot of very hostile ideas the character peddles.

People shipping Ghoulgins with Lucy is baffling to me also considering he spends the entire series physically abusing her. People just don't want to acknowledge Max's existence, I have noticed. I know her and Ghoulgins get closer by the end, but it's after he's done just unspeakably cruel things to her- and you're right that it is absolutely framed as a father/daughter relationship.

I would also like to point out that the series has always criticized capitalism as well- but would generally frame it as sort of tangled up in American imperial ambition- with one feeding into the other. They were two halves of the same coin.

Vault Tec's entire existence in the classic games was selling smoke- profiting off of the extreme tension and stress of US military buildup- a process which would always inevitably end in disaster: either with Vault Tec going under or brinksmanship coming to its inevitable end.

Vault Tec (and the entire idea of luxury bunkers as a whole) WAS a critique of capitalism, and how it goes hand-in-hand with the American military industrial complex. It was selling the fear of annihilation to the populace. They didn't need to be some secretive controlling force to achieve any of this.

Making Vault Tec the sole antagonist, and the driving force of the apocalypse, is both deeply conspiratorial AND undermines the Cold War roots the series has always had- replacing the fear of American military buildup with a sort of hateful simplicity.