#its this thing where i am so bad at directions? that like i mess things up like this all the time

[claratyler]

guys i feel devastated rn. I fucking did it again. I pulled a "Scart" again. My professor was like "you messed up Anytus' name..."

UNBELIEVABLE

[angelicblondie]

high infidelity (pt 2)

enemy!luke x princess!reader (MDNI) warning: cheating (not ok at all), smut note: finaly done! thank you for the patience on this! it took me soooo long for some reason so im so sorry! but with that being said, i really hope you all enjoy 🤍 ⋆⑅ೀpart oneೀ⋆⑅

you hadn't properly spoken to luke in exactly 2 weeks. 2 weeks since you threw your coffee all over him at breakfast, 2 weeks since you spent the whole day cleaning camp with him, 2 weeks since you kissed him, and 2 weeks since you slept with him.

eventful day, huh?

after luke had cleaned the two of you up, you had promptly (and awkwardly) showed yourself out, sliding back on your underwear and running back to the beach for your clothes. you thanked the gods that everyone was at the campfire and no where near you and luke, otherwise they would have caught you in a very compromising position.

after redressing, you rushed to the rest of the campers, taking a seat next to alex. your boyfriend.

wow, what a good girlfriend I am, you thought sarcastically.

alex turned towards you, placing a firm kiss on your cheek. "hey babe, where were you?"

you loosened up your limbs trying to appear casual. "I had to finish off some cleaning with luke." you stated, forcing your voice to sound a bit annoyed at the mention of the raven haired boy.

alex sighs. "i know you don't like him babe, but what happened at breakfast was....a bit much, no?"

you bite your lip. "i know, i know, trust me."

his fingers twirl a bit of your hair, and his eyes narrow. "why is your hair wet?"

you blink, thoughts running wild to formulate an answer.

"i think im done cleaning," luke stated, tossing his shirt to the sand and unbuttoning his shorts. you turned to look away, fearing a blush would coat your cheeks at seeing his near-naked form.

you could hear the smirk in lukes voice as he talked, and you turned back to see him just in boxers, walking backwards towards the water.

"gonna take a dip, if you wanna join."

his words were enticing, and you still couldn't figure out why. despite yourself, you slowly peel of you clothes, curious as to where this was going. with a new found sense of confidence, you walked towards the water, locking eyes with luke, who was eyeing your body, and the thin, lacy garments covering you privates.

you held back a shudder of the memory from before, and forced a annoyed look on your face.

"luke threw water on me at the beach." you lied.

alex scoffed. "what a dick, huh?"

you nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder. "yeah, a huge dick."

you winced at your words, because they were true in all senses. you almost laughed at the irony - you had just slept with him and were now talking to your boyfriend about how he's a huge dick. beautiful.

in truth, you felt beyond guilty. here alex was, so sweet and caring, and you had just cheated on him. it was so out of character, especially given your hatred for luke - it was out of the blue.

you regretted it. bad.

but why did that idea fill you with even more guilt?

not long after you arrived, luke had showed up, going over to sit with his siblings.

he glanced in your direction, noticing that you were next to alex. feeling his gaze on you, a part of you wanted to detach from your boyfriend - a small part, but still a part.

and besides, even if that part of you was bigger - that part that quite enjoyed your time with luke over the past hour - it would never work. odds are, you were just a one and done for him. he messes around with girls all the time, its wasn't worth loosing your relationship with alex over.

so at that moment, especially when you saw luke begin to flirt with a girl from demeter cabin, you decided you would forget you and luke castellan ever happened, and you would devote your time into making your relationship with alex work.

because it was the right thing to do.

.·。.·゜✭·❤·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·❤·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·❤·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·❤

like stated, it had been 2 weeks since your...encounter, with luke, and safe to say things have gone mostly back to normal.

mostly.

the days were mostly the same. you spent time with your siblings and friends, and of course, your boyfriend. you trained the younger campers, you dueled with your peers, and you lead your cabin in all duties, being the head councilor alongside your sister silena.

you relationship with alex felt as if it had only strengthened in the couple of weeks - you had been pouring so much more energy into the the two of you, and if felt good to be investing into something that was good for you.

and besides, you were filled with immense guilt for what happened with luke - the least you could do was spend a little extra time with alex.

so yeah. the days were mostly back to normal.

the nights, however, had changed.

instead of being plagued by usual demigod nightmares, you had been burdened with far worse - dreams of luke.

you were angry, internally blaming it on him, even though you knew rationally, he couldnt have anything to do with it.

you were the issue.

whether you were trying to or not, you were the one dreaming of him. you were the one that as soon as you closed your eyes, you were back in cabin one, underneath him, writhing in pleasure.

you wished there was some sort of therapy at camp, so someone could tell you what the hell was going on.

you knew you didn't like luke - since the moment you met him, in fact, you hated him. the two of you never got along, always competing to be best, always finding ways to get under the others skin. you didn't like him, and he didn't like you.

so it was attraction - simple as that. just because you hated him with your gut, doesn't mean you couldn't find him hot. because he's objectively hot. it would be suspicious if you said he wasn't hot, because everyone knew he was.

so, you could admit that to yourself - that you found him very attractive, but you could never see anything with him. thats why it didn't matter - because theres nothing of substance. with alex - he genuinely cares about you, and you feel safe with him. luke would only ever disappoint you.

but you couldn't deny that lukes surprising warmth was unforgettable. that his lips and skin were shockingly soft, that his voice when quiet and breathless was enough to send shivers down you spine even now, that when you were with him in that state he was all consuming...

you couldn't deny that his touch was electric, lighting a spark in you that you didn't know was there. that his teases weren't aggravating that one late afternoon when he had you, in fact, they only spurred on your need for him. you couldn't deny that despite yourself, the intimacy of the moment you had wasn't lost on you - the way he demanded you look in his eyes the whole time, the way he joked with you and cleaned you up after, even his dirty teases about what your boyfriend would think if he found out - you remembered it, no matter how much you wish you didn't.

you cringed when you remember your own words from that night.

"bet he could never make you feel this good, could he?" luke had asked, his voice teasing and of course, knowing.

you repeatedly shake your head, your words coming out all jumbled together. "no, never, only you, luke," you cried.

"s'that right, princess? only me?" you almost regretted your words, seeing how much it seemed to have grown his ego, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care all that much when he was making you feel so good.

you nod, whimpering as your cunt clenched around him, biting your lip to hold back any more sounds.

you had essentially told him that it was only luke who could make you feel that good, that he was better than your boyfriend.

yikes. it wasn't a good look, especially since you were still with said boyfriend.

you could excuse it, say it was heat in the moment, but in truth, in that moment you meant it. you rarely say things you don't mean, and even if you tried to lie, you knew the truth - you knew that it wasn't a fabricated statement.

you also couldn't pretend that you hadn't seen him looking at you, very often as of late. you'd be at the volleyball court, messing around with your siblings, when you felt his hot gaze on you. you turn to look, seeing him with his own siblings from afar, staring heatedly at you. you would swallow nervously, you body feeling hot, before returning your attention back into the game.

you werent sure why he was pressed - you had assumed he would've been fine with it - getting it out of your system once and then going back to normal.

but nothing between you two in the past couple of weeks was your normal.

you and luke, as always, taught the younger campers a sword fighting class. you had been teaching this together for years, chirons reasoning that you two were the strongest sword fighters in camp, and it would be a shame not to utilize that. the two of your egos had been too stroked to disagree, despite your dislike for the other.

but now, after what happened between you two, you regretted that design greatly.

things were beyond different between you two now. instead of teases and jabs, from luke you were given intense glares and knowing smirks. when the two of you were demonstrating, it was impossible to focus, having to look luke in the eye after what happened between the two of you felt like hell. your cheeks grew rosier the more his lips tilted up into a simper, and your body felt hotter whenever his fingers grazed on you waist to show "correct stances" to the kids.

you felt so angry with yourslef for letting him have this effect on you - you had promised yourself to forget what happened between the two of you, but it was hard when he made you feel so helpless.

it was even worse when you got caught staring at him instead of the other way around - humiliating, even. he would meet your intense gaze, his eyes filled with a rare sense of seriousness. you would look away, embarrassed to be caught, but you would feel his gaze on you for a long time after.

you remembered one night when his stare was far too compromising.

it was about a week ago, aka, a week after the two of you slept together, and alex was walking you back to your cabin after a long day.

"you tired?" he had asked warmly, hodling both your hands as you stood in front of you cabin.

you nodded, a small smile on your lips. "yeah, long day."

he nodded in agreement, before stepping close to you, his lips tilting up. "can i give you a kiss?" he asked.

you internally winced. why did he ask? he was your boyfriend, he shouldnt have to ask to kiss you!

luke certainly didn't.

you shook that thought away before forcing a smile on your lips, nodding softly before leaning in to meet his lips.

kisses with alex were always slow - not that you didn't like slow kisses, but it was all the time - there had to be some sort of diversity.

with luke, there were moments where your lips moved sensually, before speeding up to be more intense. there was moments where he kissed you passionately and deeply, before pulling his lips away, teasing you, leaving you wanting more. it was electric, addictive, even.

luke-why were you thinking about luke right now? you were kissing your boyfriend, and you should be thinking about him, alex, not luke. you felt a prickle on your arms, goosebumps rising, as you flutters your eyes opened slightly.

from afar, you could see luke, leaned out front of his own cabin, watching you guys.

you wondered if you should've felt disgusted, annoyed even - but you were filled with shock.

alexs' lips trailed down to your neck and you gasped, him smiling into your skin. he thought you were gasping for him, he thought you were pleased with his lips.

when in reality, you were reacting to a whole different man.

staring at luke from across the way, your mind could trick you into thinking it was him doing this to you - him holding your waist tightly, lips sloppily trailing kisses along your neck. even though alexs' lips felt much different, you could pretend.

luke watched, his arms crossed, serious gaze softening into a smug expression. he knew. he knew you were thinking about him, he knew you couldn't stop thinking about him - he knew. somehow, he knew.

so anywayse, to summarize the past 2 weeks:

hell. absolute hell.

.·。.·゜✭·❤·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·❤·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·❤·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·❤

"alice, make sure to keep your feet planted, its easy for your opponent to knock you down if your balance is unsteady"

you heard lukes instructions from afar as your bent in front of layla, a young athena camper, putting a bandaid on her knee.

"why do you and luke not fight anymore?" layla asks innocently.

you look up to here, surprised by her question. you laugh breathily. "um, i dunno, layls. we just don't."

she huffs, wincing when you place the bandain on her cut. "yeah, but you guys barely talk, as well."

you blow out a breath of air, ignoiring her interrogation. "all done. why dont you go join the others?"

she pouts, but does as you say, running back over to her sparing partner as you stay where you stand, overseeing the practice.

you feel the space fill up next to you and you don't have to look to know its luke.

"ben is getting better," he comments, referring to your younger brother. you hum in agreement. "yeah, he just need to be more confident in his moves and then he'll be on a good path."

he hums, and its silent for a moment as you two watch your students.

"listen, i have some changes i want to make to next classes schedule," luke says, breaking the silence. his voice was casual, yet his lips were tilted up in a faint smirk.

you turn to look at him, furrowing your brows. "ok..." when he doesn't say anything, you huff. "go ahead."

he chuckles. "nah, i mean, its too long of a conversation, and class is almost over."

you purse your lips. "ok, fine, then after class."

he hisses in a breath of air. "i'm busy all afternoon," he excuses, faux apologetic. you narrow your eyes. what is he playing at ?

you let out a scoffed laugh. "ok, so when?"

he shrugs. "does after dinner work?"

you fold your lips inwards. you weren't so sure about that. alone, when its dark, with luke? cant be a good idea. but there was no other time to do it, and you knew he wouln't take no for an answer.

"fine," you say curtly after a moment.

he grins. "perfect. meet at the dock, then."

and thats exactly what you did. after finishing up your dinner, making sure all your sibling got ready for bed, you snuck out to the dock.

you saw luke already seated there, and when he heard your footsteps, he whipped his head around, his lips tilting up. "ah, there you are. almost thought you werent coming."

you walk over to sit next to him, yet far enough away. "so, what did you want to talk about?"

he chuckles, leaning back on his hands. "oh, theres tons i want to talk to you about, princess."

you clench your jaw, your cheeks getting a bit rosy. "i meant about the schedule for next lesson."

"oh, right," he sits up a bit, "i think we should change the demonstration to before they start practicing instead of after."

you blink. seriously? couldnt he have just said that earlier? "is that all?"

lukes eyes grow mischievous. "no, actually. i think you should bring your little boyfriend - think it would be fun for him to watch us spar, no?"

you purse your lips, immidiately filled with anger. "stop that."

he throws his hands up in faux defense. "woah, calm down princess. was just an idea."

you roll you eyes, scoffing. "i knew it was a bad idea to come here."

you begin to stand up, but he grabs your wrist. "no. c'mon, stop that," he snickers a bit. "i was just messin with you."

his voice came across a bit soft, and you couldnt ignore the fluttering in your stomach. you stay seated, looking over at him. "whats the real reason you asked me to come out here?"

lukes jaw clenched, and he looked out into the dark water of the lake. the vibe between you two darkened, as did his expression. "you cant just pretend it didn't happen. thats not how it works."

you face fills with shock, his switch in demeanor catching you off guard. he seemed...frustrated, frustrated that you hadn't acknowledged what happened between the two of you.

you swallow nervously. "it was a mistake," you say, but your voice betrays you, coming out quiet and unsure.

luke scoffs. "nothing you do is a mistake, princess. you always know what your doing."

"yeah, well, i didn't in that moment, obviously," you bite your lip. this didn't feel like you and luke - the two of you were being oddly vulnerable, you weren't necessarily fighting - sure you were frustrated, but it wasn't like you were throwing petty insults at the other.

"i..." you start, but have trouble finding you words. "look, i had a good time with you" you admit, your voice quiet. you don't dare to look at luke. "and it was all...really good. but it cant happen again. i've already done enough to betray alex, when he's been nothing but good to me. and-and im a relationship girl, luke. thats something you could never give me."

lukes jaw clenches. alex? nothing but good to you? so you dont know about how he bragged to a bunch of the guys about your body, about how you had given into him? so you dont know that alex had said disgusting things about you, vulgar things?

instead of saying this, he turns to you. "who says i couldn't give you that?" he asks, his voice quiet and low.

you blink, turning to him. you checked his eyes for the truth, and saw nothing but sincerity in his words. shock ran through you. you had no idea he was actually interested in you - you had just assumed he was purely attracted to you, and that was it.

it was like a gate you had forced yourself so seal shut had been cracked open. you had made yourself not even entertain the idea of more with luke, assuming that he would never even think of it. but knowing that he had - that changed everything.

you allowed yourself to consider it, truly consider it. the idea of being with luke. you didn't push it away.

you were brought back to the soft but firm touches, the intimate eye contact, the way he made you feel so special that night 2 weeks ago. you enjoyed it, you know you did, even if you tried to pretend it didn't happen.

but then you remembered alex - sweet alex, who was waiting at the campfire for you after you had fucked luke. gentle alex, who never rushed you, and was respectful.

alex always felt safe.

but what if you didn't want safe?

the silence had consumed the two of you - the only sound that could be heard was the chirping of crickets and the gentle summer breeze. the eye contact you two held was intense - your eyes were glazed over in thought - you both were thinking hard in that moment.

you don't know what possessed you to do it. the moment felt so intimate and private, and he was right there, in your grasp. your hand went out to delicately cup his face. his brows furrowed a bit, confused and a bit surprised by your touch.

you bite your lip. "do you mean it? that you could give me that?" you asked, you voice the softest it had probably ever been with him.

you words were so vulnerable, it caused his heart to clench. after a moment he nods. "i want to. i want to give that to you."

before you knew it, your lips were crashing into his. luke reacted instantly, one hand holding the back of your head and the other cupping your cheek.

you were brought back to the moment where you two kissed at the beach, but this felt a lot different. there was hint of desperation then - you two weren't sure how long it would last, what it meant, even how you were feeling - now, everything was more sure.

you had him now, and he had you.

he pulls you close, and you swing your legs around him, straddling his waist. his hands slide down your waist, squeezing a bit to pull you closer to his chest. you arch into his touch, pressing your chest against his and your hands slide into his hair.

once you start getting breathless you pull apart, panting against his lips.

luke grinned tiredly, and it was so contagious you smiled back.

"let me sneak you into my cabin," his swollen lips practically whisper.

you bite your lip unsurely. "i dunno...what about your siblings?"

he scoffs a bit, as if you said something funny. "they'll be out by now. besides, we'll be quiet"

that was enough to convince you, and before you knew it, his hand in yours, he dragged you over to his cabin, opening and shutting the door quietly, tiptoeing to his bed.

luke sits down first, opening his legs and looking up at you, signaling you to sit down on them. you straddle his lap, cautiously looking around the cabin as luke began to nip at your neck, forcing quiet, breathy hum out of your lips.

he pulls you down, covering you both in blankets, as his lips attack yours. you fall into a steady rhythm, hands exploring each others bodies, breathing heavily into each others mouths. you pawed at his chest. "more," you whisper pleadingly.

"more?" he asks tauntingly. "y'want more? more of what, princess?"

you whine quetly. "of you, luke, please?"

without another words he pecks you chin with a mischievous smile, disappearing under the covers. your filled with anticipation before you feel him lift your shirt up, placing kisses all along your torso.

you bite you lip, holding back the noises that you desperately wanted to release, as you felt his lips move lower and lower.

you wished you could see him, so you ducked under the covers, the duvet just thin enough that moonlight was able to peak in. you could see the shadows of his face, and he looked devastatingly handsome.

he smiled against the skin of your inner thigh, his lips peppering a few kisses there. he moved up, right against your denim shorts, playing with the button and zipper. after a bit of teasing, he slid the down, collecting them in his hands to climb up over you, sliding them under his pillows. he placed a delicate kiss on your lips, before whispering, "is this ok?" against them. you nod feverishly, and he smiles so soft you wonder why you've yet to see this side of him.

he moves back down, his lips against the cotton of your panties, hands holding you hips. just his breath against you was enough to make you feel light, and pool wetness. he place a sweet kiss directly over you clit and you shivered, hands moving to his hair.

"j'wanna make you feel good, princess." he says so quietly you almost miss it. your heart thunders in your chest as he presses more kisses over your panties, his hands sliding down to toy with fabric on yours hips.

"please, luke." you whisper pleadingly, and he gently shushes. "shhhh, its ok, let me handle it. just lay back and take it, hm?"

you nod, your face twisted in want as you relax you head, letting it rest on the pillow.

luke gently tore your panties off, letting them pool at your ankles as his middle finger slows runs down your center. you shiver, and he places a disciplinary hand on your hips. "stay still," he instructs, his finger still gathering your wetness.

his digit pushes into your tight entrance, causing you to swallow a whimper. you shut your eyes, hands gripping his hair.

he places a soft kiss on you thigh, mumbling incoherent praises against your skin.

he slowly moves in and out of you, before his lips press a kiss on your clit again. you jump, gasping quietly as he begins gently sucking.

with his digit fingering your fluttering walls, and his lips slobbering over you pussy, you swear you've never felt such pleasure. its hard to keep quiet, and your surprised you do (not counting the occasional gasp or quiet hums of pleasure).

luke is having way to much fun. you can feel him smirk against you when you let a little noise slip, and you can feel him silently laughing when his tongue flicks over your bud, knowing you would go crazy.

he adds a second finger, and before you know it, a third. every second your coaxed further into your orgasm, and you know he can tell, by the way your pulling his hair to push him closer to your core, and the way your back arches off the bed.

when he does finally bring you too your peak, you bite your lips so hard your surprised it doesn't bleed. your hips stutter against his hand, and his digits inside you slow down, moving you through your high. once you catch you breath, he gently brings your panties back up, placing a kiss over the fabric, before climbing back up.

he kisses you softly, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. he breaks away, the two of your heads peaking out of the blankets.

"good?" he asks quietly and softly, lips red and swollen.

you giggle a bit. "more than good." your hand runs down his chest. "want me to return the favor?"

he shakes his head. "another time, princess."

you pout. "are you sure? i dont mind."

he shakes his head again. "nah. tonight was about you. we have all the time in the world for that."

and it was true, you did. that night 2 weeks ago was the start to something beautiful, and tonight was the real start of you - you and luke.

[manchasama]

You know, historically I did most of my writing as random ficlets. Maybe that is why these are a bit easier? Either way, feeling out characterizations, these are fun to do!

--

"What are you doing?"

Ingo didn't move from where he was looking down at the brown…circles in front of him. "Baking," he said. He didn't have to look to sense Emmet's stare. "…Theoretically," he conceded with a sigh.

Emmet poked one of the circles. It dented under his finger, but bounced back into shape instantly. "It doesn't look bad," he said. He poked the circle again, fascinated at its texture.

"While that means a lot coming from you, unfortunately the taste leaves much to be desired." Ingo's frown pulled deeper. "They taste bad. I don't understand how the same ingredients can come out so wrong!"

Emmet leaned over so he could look Ingo in the face. His smile had a hint of teasing humor in it. "It looks like you tried to bake donuts?"

Ingo wasn't listening. "I have looked at dozens of recipes! I measured everything exactly so." He gestured ferociously toward the pile of used dishes soaking in the sink. "Baking is supposed to be easy." He threw his hands up, exasperation written in every line of his body. "You merely need to follow the directions, with the exact measurements. I thought I could do this!"

"Hmmmmm," Emmet drawled, looking entirely unsympathetic. "Why did you bake them? Aren't donuts fried?"

Ingo grimaced, half turned away as if that would save him from his brother's attention. "…I merely wanted it to be a bit…healthier."

"Uh huh," Emmet said. "And how may donuts have you snuck behind my back this week?"

"That is NOT why I did it!" Ingo protested loudly.

Emmet cackled, covering his ears dramatically from the sudden volume. "That is a confession if ever I heard one!"

All Ingo could do was splutter protests that fell on deaf ears. Emmet was far too delighted in catching Ingo out on his sweet tooth. Why were younger brothers so infuriating?

"If you are quite finished," Ingo said stiffly, "I have to clean up this mess." Emmet's smile still reached from ear to ear, his face rosy from his laughter. He reached out to poke one of the donuts again, and Ingo swatted at his hand. "Stop that! I need to wrap them properly, and I don't need your fingerprints all over them."

"Wrap them?" Emmet asked, eyeing Ingo as he picked up the plate of pastries. "Ingo, you are not planning on eating those?"

"Of course I am," Ingo sighed. "Just because they aren't ideal, doesn't mean I should waste food."

"Oh no you don't." Emmet swiped the plate of 'donuts' from Ingo's hand. "This is now a treat for Garbador!"

"But—" Ingo tried to protest.

"Nope!" Emmet popped the word in his mouth. "You can learn from your mistake. You do not need to force yourself to suffer because of it."

"Emmet…" Ingo would deny to his dying day the whine in his voice. "All I have learned is that donuts should not be baked!"

Emmet gave a satisfied nod. "And that is a valuable lesson."

They stared at each other silently. Then Ingo lunged, and Emmet turned and fled out the kitchen before Ingo could catch him.

"Emmet!" Ingo bellowed, charging recklessly after his brother.

"Garbador! I have a treat! Quick!" Emmet hollered, thumping against the walls as he took corners at speed. The real miracle of the day was the fact that he kept all of the donuts on the plate. At least until Ingo tackled him and the whole thing went tumbling across the floor.

Garbador did indeed enjoy her treat.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Ready Or Not

Howzer x fem!S/O | 1.9k words

Content: blind dates, bad first impressions, Howzer has some thoughts and feels to work through, maybe some demi vibes?, no real fluff but I think it's sweet in its own way

Prompt: I came across this concept of a "Meet Ugly" and thought it'd be interesting to explore. Used this scenario: Getting set up on a blind date and not having the best reaction when they first see each other.

Part of Operation #MoreHowzerFics

He did not have time for this.

Maybe the rest of the galaxy had been duped into thinking the war was over, but Howzer knew better. There was still a fight to be had, and a more dire one at that. A fight for his brothers. Their fates were hanging in the balance... and here he was, sitting at some cafe on Pabu waiting for a date.

He wasn't even sure how it had happened. Rex had insisted there was a reason soldiers took R&R, and even though they technically weren't soldiers anymore they should still try to relax every once in a while. Fireball had taken to saying "you need to get laid" every time Howzer was in an even slightly bad mood. Greer was always going on about how they needed to think of the future, find a dream worth fighting for, like a home or a family. And Gregor was weirdly interested in figuring out what everyone's "type" was; everywhere they went he'd point someone out and gauge their reactions.

All of that somehow had culminated in setting Howzer up on a blind date the second they touched down on Pabu. As if he had time for such things. As if he cared about such things.

And yet... here he was. Wearing his armor and a frown, but he'd still shown up. If he wasn't so busy cursing his brothers in his mind, he could have analyzed why he was here. Or whether he maybe secretly did care about such things.

His leg bounced and his narrowed eyes stared unfeeling out at the planet's glistening waters. He glanced down at his watch every few minutes, growing more upset at how the time passed without this supposedly "cute" date of his showing up. A memory of Echo whispered in the back of his mind, saying something about "Pabu time", how people here didn't need to move with the same urgency he was used to, but he didn't listen to it.

A few people passed by and gave him pleasant smiles. Some entered the patio and gave warm hugs to neighbors they recognized. An elderly couple went up to the counter, leisurely reading the menu as if they had never dined here before. One girl confidently strolled in, at first acting like she knew where she was going, and then halting in the middle of the tables and looking about in confusion. She then tried to cover and got in line to order, as if that had been her plan, even though Howzer had seen the whole thing and knew she had probably absentmindedly gone to the wrong place.

He fought back the urge to roll his eyes at these people. He wasn't really annoyed at them. If anything, he envied their peace. They didn't have family enslaved by the Empire. They didn't have uncertain futures. They were allowed to wander and smile and act a little silly. It's what he would want for his brothers once they were freed. No, he was annoyed because they weren't free. This peace was not theirs. But here he was, sitting in a cafe overlooking a beautiful view and waiting for a date as if he had earned it. How in the galaxy had he let Rex and the others convince him to do this?

Just when he started to entertain the idea of bailing, the girl from earlier caught his eye. She had made it up to the counter now and the worker was pointing over in his direction. Howzer subconsciously shifted, his back straightening and his hand settling on his thigh next to his blaster holster. Usually he'd pretend not to have noticed, let any potential threats think they were catching him unawares while all along he had the upper hand. But here, he decided to send a different message. I am aware, I see you staring, try to mess with me.

The girl followed the path that the worker had pointed her in, right to Howzer. She didn't look like a spy or some other kind of threat, but these days, who really knew. Especially when she seemed determined to appear pleasant and confident, despite the nervous gulp Howzer clocked from across the patio, not to mention the little display of carelessness he had seen from her earlier.

"Hi there," she said when she came within a few feet of his table.

She gave out a breathy laugh and Howzer frowned, waiting to see what she wanted from him.

"Um," she gulped again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Another nervous tell. What was she hiding? "I uh... Phee told me to meet someone here. For a... a date?"

Howzer's eyes widened in realization. Kriff.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to walk right past you," the girl continued to fill in the silence. "I guess I wasn't expecting, um..."

She trialed off as she realized how the thought was sounding out loud, and then quickly tried to save face by hurrying over to the seat opposite him and pulling it out. But Howzer wasn't going to let her off the hook that easy.

"Weren't expecting... what?" he asked once she sat down. He eased his hand away from his blaster but kept his posture upright. She may not be a threat but he wasn't exactly comfortable.

She exhaled quickly with a sheepish smile. "Well, a clone."

Howzer's eyes returned to their narrowed state, sizing up this girl he found himself sitting across from. She interpreted the silence as offense and immediately started babbling.

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. It's... it's just... You know, you've all just recently started coming here... I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised... Of course Phee would set me up with someone I don't know, I know practically every other guy here, and there's a reason I'm not with any of them... And she's been working with clones more recently... But like, I know only a few of you are sticking around for good, so I guess that's why it didn't occur to me that..."

Howzer wasn't sure when he had started zoning out. He felt bad, but also couldn't help it. He didn't have much time for this date to begin with, and certainly no time to listen to a stranger ramble without getting to any sort of point. He was a soldier; he valued conciseness. Whatever suppressed little hope he had that maybe this date wouldn't be so bad after all, maybe he finally would find a romantic connection with someone, dissipated into the saltwater breeze. 

He sat forward and the girl stopped spewing her thoughts, eagerly awaiting him to interject and contribute.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl," he lied. He honestly didn't really have an opinion about her one way or the other. He'd been hit on plenty of times back on Ryloth but had never felt anything by it, other than occasional annoyance when it interrupted his duties. "But it seems like we both have some disappoints over this arrangement. Why don't we cut our losses now, get some time back in our days, and part on good terms?"

Now it was her turn to frown.

"You... you're disappointed?"

Howzer was already scooting his chair back to stand. "It's nothing personal against you," he tried to reassure, though even he could hear how impolite it sounded. He hated that he was in such a situation. He should have never come in the first place.

He gave her a formal nod, almost like a salute, and then strode through the patio gate and down quiet, cobbled streets back toward the town square. Each step felt heavier and heavier and he did whatever he could to ignore the guilt twisting in his chest, even trying to look at his surroundings and focus on taking in the architecture and flora and beauty. It was a hollow focus, but he was determined to keep walking, believing he'd soon forget about this awkward encounter and the rude behavior he'd displayed, and things would go back to normal... as normal as they could be in a war.

But then a voice started to cut through to him from behind.

"Sir? Sir!"

He turned in confusion to see the girl jogging toward him. She pulled up a few feet from him, only slightly out of breath.

"Sorry. Um, I don't know your name. Or your rank."

"My rank doesn't matter anymore," he said, immediately regretting how defensive it sounded. He really was a mess today, wasn't he.

"Sure it does," she said with a small smile. "It was an accomplishment, something you should always be proud of."

Without realizing, the tenseness in his shoulders started to loosen. He took in a deep breath and said the first normal thing all day. "My name's Howzer. Captain Howzer."

Her smile grew just a bit more. "It's nice to meet you, Captain Howzer. And... I'm sorry if I came across rude or annoying before. I understand if you don't find me attractive, but I really don't want that to be your impression of me. I really wasn't disappointed to find out you were my date. In fact, I'm disappointed I didn't actually get to have you as a date. But, like I said... it's okay if you're not interested."

Howzer's heart was twisting again. She was a nice girl. Sweet, thoughtful. Still used too many words, but he supposed he didn't use enough sometimes. As far as attraction, he wasn't entirely sure he knew what that felt like, but those bright eyes and soft smile weren't so bad to look at.

"It's not that I'm not interested," he started to say slowly, but then realized he wasn't sure how to finish the thought.

The girl stepped closer. "You're just not ready?"

"Honestly, I don't know if I ever will be ready." He gave a sheepish shrug, though he was starting to feel better. He appreciated that she was helping him sort through these confusing feelings. Her eyes were closer, swimming with the reflection of the sky and what he believed to be genuine care. Before he knew it, he was elaborating. "I mean, do I like the idea of sitting down for coffee with someone and getting to know them? Of course. But to what end? I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if I can be a good friend, let alone... something else."

She nodded in understanding but still offered a different perspective. "To be fair, no one really knows what the future holds. And relationships come in all different forms. There's no one way to be a good friend. Or a good something else."

Howzer's eyes slipped away from hers, pulled toward the glistening sea in the backdrop behind her. He mulled over her words as he watched the waves, nothing but tiny little ripples from this distance. It reminded him of some of the paintings he saw back on Ryloth. He'd always been impressed with artists who could make small details seem real. They were only small strokes on a canvass but they captured a whole entire feeling.

He shook himself, not sure why he was thinking about such a thing right now. The girl was still watching him with a small but knowing smile. She stepped back and returned the nod he'd given her back at the cafe.

"I'm really glad to have met you, Captain. I wish you all the best."

She turned and started walking back the way she'd came. Howzer let her get a few steps before finally calling out.

"Wait. I didn't get your name."

She paused and smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Hope."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear,

@theroguesully, @cw80831, @cdblake1565

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@flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @lulalovez, @aconstructofamind, @the-mom-friend-dot-com

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[live-laugh-lenney]

Hi, could you please write a little something about george looking after his girlfriend while she's ill? Xx

i am such a sucker for soft boyfriend looking after ill girlfriend :')

whatever he had planned, it was dropped.

except he never told her that he cancelled his work schedule or any of his upcoming video shoots that he was due to film because he knows her like the back of his hand. he knew, deep down, how much she was going hate being the reason that he stopped working just to take care of her when, really, she could do it herself.

'i need to cancel our dinner date with max and andrew tonight, not well at all. don't come and see me as i'm just gonna sleep all day and look like a mess. love you. <33'

george cancels on her behalf. informing max that they could move the date to another night and that he wasn't sure what was wrong with her but that it must have been something terribly bad if she was cancelling plans and had added on that she didn't want to see her boyfriend in the state she was in.

except, george doesn't always listen.

and its time like when she was sick where he was thankful he had a key to her flat amongst the keys on his keyring. arriving at her door with an abundance of bags filled with tablets and medicines, dry crackers and packs of biscuits, and whatever trinkets he could grab from the tiny supermarket shop at the entrance of her flat complex so he was prepared for any kind of sickness.

"i know you asked not to see me but i wasn't doing anything today in regards to work and i couldn't leave you here by yourself," his voice fills the quiet space of her home and he waits for her to make herself known before he unpacks the bags for her, "babe?"

when she doesn't appear after a couple of minutes, he feels guilt low in his stomach - he forgot she may have been trying to sleep off whatever had struck her and he was suddenly more aware of how loud he had been upon his entrance. he toes off his trainers and sets them beside her front door, sets the keys down quietly on the side table and leaves the bags in her kitchen before he goes on a look for her around her home.

she wasn't on the sofa; her living room hadn't seemed to be touched and her tv remotes were left where she would normally leave them the previous night, the blanket was still draped over the back of the sofa and there was no dip in the cushions to signify that someone had been sat there recently.

she wasn't in her office; he wasn't expecting her to be working, at all, but it was a much cooler room in her home since it was facing away from the sunshine and she had a fairly comfortable sofa to lounge on.

she wasn't in her bedroom; except he could tell she had taken refuge there for the majority of the day because her sheets were still messy and ruffled and her pillows looked laid upon, a glass of water on her bedside table and a mop bucket down by her side of the bed which she must have kept there in case she couldn't make it from the bed.

his next guess was her en-suite and as he poked his head around the doorframe, he was met with her eyes closed and leaning against the side of the bathtub with a sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. his t-shirt, which he had given to her when she first stayed the night at his place, loose on her figure and it swallowed her up and he just wanted to scoop her up and put her to bed so she was more comfortable.

"i know you're looking at me," she grumbles lowly, cracking an eye open and staring at him through one eye, "i said not to come over. i don't know if this is a contagious thing or not."

"i'll be fine," he waves his hand in her direction as if he was brushing off the comment and he steps into the room, reaching over to flush the toilet from the contents inside, "how long have you been here for?"

she shrugs before taking a deep inhale, exhaling slowly, and she stretches out her legs to rid the pins and needles feeling tingling at her toes. she feels george sit down beside her and she can't help but lean towards the body heat radiating off his body, his arm sneaking around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.

"just feeling sick?"

"just feeling a bit icky. woke up feeling weird, breakfast didn't stay too long in my belly, can't really keep anything down."

"maybe it's a viral thing?" george wonders and he reaches for a wet flannel to dab across her forehead and to clear her face a little, "chris went down with something a couple of weeks ago, seen a lot of stuff saying people are going down with a sickness bug."

"just my luck to get it."

george laughs softly and sets the flannel down on the side of the tub, removing his arm from her shoulder and standing to his feet, holding his hands out for her to take and pulling her slowly to her feet. letting her get some stability before he lead her back to the bedroom so she could get comfortable in bed.

"i brought some crackers and biscuits if you're hungry and want to try and eat something," george suggested and she shook her head, settling herself down in bed and pulling the duvet over her body, "i'll leave them in the kitchen for you, okay? they're there if you want them."

"thank you," she smiles softly and he climbs onto the bed, careful not to jostle her too much, laying down beside her and cosying under the covers, "love you."

"i would kiss you but," he looks her and she rolls her eyes, "i love you too. get some sleep. i'll be here when you wake up." xx

[quietwingsinthesky]

unpopular opinion: 10 and 12 have essentially the same flaws and hell bent was pretty much 12's time lord victorious era (i love both 10 and 12 ftr)

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

YEAH!!! YEAH YOU GET IT!!!! actually i think this is why i have the nuwho doctors mentally sorted into two categories. one side is the “oh god oh fuck why did i survive that” category (nine, thirteen, fifteen) and the other is the time lord victorious arc and consequences category (ten, eleven, twelve). they’re more loose thematic similarities for the former but for the latter its like. Yeah, this is the point of them. ten kicks it off and then tries at the very end Not to go time lord victorious. eleven is literally All about how he got so big for his britches that the whole fucking universe is scared of him and this is a Bad thing. and twelve is, finally, dealing with all of that but not in like a “healing from his issues” way, in a “trying to moralize his way out of a hole” way where he is replicating the exact same mistakes he’s always made, making the same assumptions that override people’s autonomy and throw the universe out of wack because he feels it is what he should be allowed to do as the doctor.

and i love that about them! what a mess those three are in that semi-arc of trying to figure out. well. Is it a god complex if the power you have over the universe does sort of make you a god? And how does one be a moral god, if there’s any way to do so? and the constant underlying truth that undoes all three of them that they are NOT gods. they’re a man in a box, with all the flaws and biases and attachments and issues of that. it’s fun!!!

and hellbent is such a perfect encapsulation of all of that because its in direct parallel to clara’s “i am owed better” moment in dark water. this is the doctor, punching diamond to dust because HE IS OWED BETTER. he is owed clara’s life, though she chose every step to face that death. and that’s what makes giving up the memory of her more painful than say, letting her die again. because in that moment, her second chance at life becomes not for him to hold onto her, but for her to have for herself. ough.

[unpopular opinion rating]

[voidedaurora]

I've been keeping my actual posts about this minimal for the time being because of some things behind the scenes but I've just been sent this mess of an announcement she's made in her discord and I thought I'd say something about it

(yes mel, I AM going to break this down considering you have a tendency to lie and skew things and say weird shit that gets looked over otherwise)

SS #1

First of all. What are you trying to do here, Garner pity? trying to get SYMPATHY and leniency for actions YOU made, things YOU did. Trying to garner sympathy as if you're the one that's been victimized in this whole thing, as much as you'd like to see yourself as a victim you are not!

Being called out for terrible things YOU'VE done does not make you a victim and does not give you any passes for anything.

Its understandable to be stressed, but you're putting this on yourself by trying to disprove things that simply cannot be because these are things that've actually happened, not random BS to take you down.

The easiest and best thing you could've and still can do in this situation is admit your wrongs and get off the internet to live in REAL life for a little and maybe seek some help for your mental so you cant hurt anyone else.

-

SS #2

Now this is just a bit odd? I know for a fact you do not have any "hidden answers everyone's looking for" bc most things of note have been presented (at least from me personally) and have already PROVEN these things did indeed happen?

(excluding the few things that were in vc unrecorded)

Things will never go back to normal, you cant even pin this on being a "stupid kid" anymore because this is behavior that has spanned across YEARS and YEARS now with no change, whenever people have tried to help you, push you in the right direction, directly explained something you're doing is wrong, etc. You've been mean and unwilling to hear anyone out and would rather live your life a hateful individual that gets to do whatever she wants without consequences or any real responsibility and attempt to improve yourself.

-

SS #3

From the time I knew you you did not bother to let people tell you when you were wrong and would get EXTREMELY aggressive and defensive when anyone would, you never took the time to understand when you did something wrong (outside of 1 or two instances) and would just do the same things again and again regardless of whether it was wrong or right just because you can, so ofc you wouldn't understand its wrong. you didn't care

As a minor myself (17, going on 18) I know where my boundaries are when speaking to people younger and know when and where not to cross that line BEFORE being an adult, so what's your excuse?

People don't expect you to "know everything" just the bare minimum of not being a fucking weirdo to minors, not sexually using people, and to have a little common sense.

It does not matter whether your old friend groups (WITH PEOPLE A YEAR BEHIND OR AHEAD OF YOU IN AGE) had sexual jokes normalized or not, you wouldn't go into a elementary school and start making sex jokes in front of minors irl right, because those are children, or would your humor that overrides normal common sense force you to make those jokes anyway? Seriously.

And spoiler (from what I've been told and shown by khai)

She still to this day makes sex jokes and remarks around and to her friends despite in private acknowledging she should stop acting like this. Its honestly disgusting she can allegedly have acknowledged to Khai that what she was doing is wrong, only to continue making jokes and doing things she shouldn't around her.

-

SS #4

This is Equally as weird as the rest of her response previously, I see where her intentions are but the way she's worded and executed it leaves such a bad taste in my mouth considering the nature of what she's been called out for (Being sexual around/to minors, Sexual abuse, etc)

Making the server 18+ would've been a great show of growth and intent to correct things from you if you hadn't gone "There'd still be some people underage within the server" , It's genuinely the weirdest way you could go about doing this, if you're making ANYTHING 18+ you cannot be allowing the people that are >18 to stay in, that completely defeats the purpose of upping the servers age considering 80% of the fans that'd even be joining your server and interacting are ALREADY going to be in there and verified.

This is basically like going "I'll make it 18+ but my fav minors can stay in!". If you were making your server 17+ and wanted to keep a couple 16 yr olds that are turning 17 soon in (and there was no nsfw in the server) that'd be okay! but when you're making anything 18+ that implies there's enough mature content in there to warrent it being 18+ and wouldn't be ok to keep minors in for that reason.

-

SS #5

No comment honestly, you did this to yourself and could've saved yourself and many others time and energy by admitting your wrongdoings, getting off the internet, and getting help instead of making up shit and trying to save face now that you've finally been seriously called out.

Must suck finally getting repercussions for your actions after years of being too "untouchable" for anyone to say something.

I've made my thoughts quite clear here, Do not go harass Quartelz or any of her friends. You may voice your opinions but please do so with humanity and maturity.

As much as you'd like me to "burn out" Mel, You're not gonna get what you want and I will keep fighting for people to see the real person you are and for you to get the consequences you've been owed for years now.

If you want to try and talk to me about everything that is still an option but It will not make me magically forgive or take back anything I've said or will say.

(unless there was a genuine misunderstanding with some part, but I highly doubt this since I've tried to keep everything I say as PROVABLE as possible)

[zivazivc]

I'm gonna take some time to digest and think about that comic before I come to a decision. The decision being whether to continue to support you or just leave you be.

If I decide to leave you be, just know that there are no hard feelings, okay?

You are on anon so I don't know if this is someone who I've talked to before, but either way, yes, no hard feelings. I completely understand. It's the internet, anyone can unfollow anyone for any reason, but also I know this is an uncomfortable topic and even triggering to some, and some people are just not here for that. I was contemplating posting it for a while for this reason.

I do kinda want to point out that the purpose was/is not to fetishize a relationship with a minor and I will never fetishize or glorify that ever. It's wrong and unhealthy even if there's no malicious intent present. (am pointing it out because I got a bunch of asks about it and I'm 🧍) But this is fiction, and I portrayed the scenes the way that I did mainly because I made the comic from Floyd's perspective and I wanted to get in his head and show what exactly he was feeling in that moment. If the end result makes you feel uncomfortable or "flustered" (I don't think I'm using the right English word) in a certain icky way, that was kind of the point and I believe should be a normal reaction from an adult.

I spent my high school years (normally 15-19yo, but it was more like 14-22+) living in a dorm in the country's capitol and I attended a vocational school for visual arts that is pretty notorious for having a drug problem (I'm talking about mostly weed) and being full of weirdos (students free and comfortable expressing themselves and experimenting with expressing themselves but weirdos is the used term lol). The dorm is also located very near the city's subcultural center (look up Ljubljana Metelkova if you want, it's kind of what I imagine the underground scenes the bandmates visit looking like) which is like a hangout place for subcultures like punks and metalheads and the lgbtq. Anyway coming from living my whole life in a rural village where I still played with toys to somewhere like that was an insane shock to me. I sometimes felt like a toddler around young adults in a big city. And it was whiplash for many other teens too, some of whom quickly fell into bad crowds and spiraled, often those who came from bad home situations or controlling parents (heck some even came from elementary schools already doing problematic things). The amount of rumors of things happening in that dorm and school (drugs, sex, messing around with older teens/adults, whatever)... (I'm not saying it was like a concerning percentage of students but it was happening) Some of these people who made some bad choices were and some still are my friends, some of whom still struggle with some things today and it's heartbreaking.

Anyway where I was going with this is that in high school I was always kind of the anti all of that (to the point it had the opposite effect on me where I didn't even try out the normal teenage things) and just thinking "what the fuck is wrong with these people?" And recently, when my headcanons for Floyd started going in the direction that they have, I started wondering the same thing. Just not in a judgemental way this time. More like I want to dissect this situation carefully and understand it from everyone's perspective and see what lead up to it. I've always been very fascinated by morally gray and dark fiction for this reason and this is right up that alley.

So yeah, this isn't for everyone, and I can't hold a grudge if anyone unfollows me for it. But what I'm doing here is inspired a lot by real life situations and my weird deep dives into articles about trauma and its effects (also pretty sure I'm also processing some of my own personal emotions through these blorbos but I am not going into that), and I feel like I'm taking a pretty realistic approach to it (if you ignore the fact that this is fucking Trolls). I'm just slowly exploring how a relationship between a teen who comes from a sheltered almost cultish upbringing (pop trolls live in a concentration camp and are dealing with the horrors by singing and enjoying every minute of their every day like life is a ticking time bomb) and a young adult who never got a chance to grow up because he never experienced a childhood and is suddenly being liked by someone for the first time in his life (I'll talk more about Les some other time), would develop into hopefully something okay for both of them. Because I do want them to both be okay in the end. And I'm sharing some of my brainworms online for anyone who's interested. I just can't share ALL of my brain worms and sometimes I forget that people don't have a view of what's going on in my head. Yeah... This answer became long for no other reason except that I can't sleep because I posted that comic, damn. That's what I get for dropping that bombshell on top of what was mostly fun "comedic" posts about the AU so far.

[frvnkcastles]

Hello 🥰🥰 I know you are accepting requests and i love the way you write so can you do a Frank x reader where she has had a dog since she was a teenager and is very attached, (when they living together the dog went with them of course) one night they are sleeping and her dog starts crying and then they wake up and they realize something is wrong, she gets desperate and they run to the vet (Frank calming her down the whole time) when they get there he does surgery but unfortunately she doesn't survive and Frank Take her home and comfort her, she say things like "i don't wanna live without him"...

(sorry if its too specific, you don't have to write if you don't want to! ❤️)

be safe 🥰

THE SCARS FROM TOMORROW ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You, Frank and your dog have become a little family and things are perfect, until your dog falls ill.

Warnings: Loss of a pet, very brief suicide ideation, brief mention of animal abuse, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 3.8k

Author’s note: Okay, this one is heavy!! Read with caution, don’t feel bad if you have to sit this one out. Writing this broke my own heart, I also have a dog and I am definitely not prepared for the day he’s no longer with me. I’m so sorry for your loss anon, I hope this brings at least some comfort for you <3

Your dog had been there for you through thick and thin for years, but more than that, he had been there for every milestone of your and Frank’s relationship. From the night you first met to the day Frank had suggested moving in together, your precious boy was an important part of every step, and just like he had charmed you all those years ago, he had charmed Frank — granted, he didn’t need much convincing with his undeniable soft spot for dogs.

The way you had literally bumped into one another that first night was one of Frank’s favorite stories to tell, even when Curtis and Lieberman had already heard it a million times, he always jumped at the opportunity to go through it again.

It was a cold winter night and you had been a little irritated that your dog had given you the look, the one that meant he needed to go outside badly, when it was getting so late. You were violently shivering from the chilly air nipping at your fingertips and sneaking in through the cracks of your coat while your dog pulled on the leash eagerly, and the sounds of the city were mellow background noise.

And then, your excited dog rushed over to you unprompted, his snowy paws meeting your thighs and making you grunt at the collision. Before you had time to react in any way, he circled you so the leash tightened around your ankles, and you hopelessly tried to untangle the mess you were bound to stumble on.

”Baby, stop it”, you scolded him, but instead of listening to you, he ran in the other direction next. His excitement turned out to be because of a stranger walking towards you, and instead of seeing him as danger, your dog jumped at the man, effectively yanking you off of your feet. With a sharp gasp, you fell forward and you landed against a firm chest with your hand desperately trying to hold onto the leash, and before you could apologize for fumbling, a gravelly voice spoke up from above.

”You okay there, ma’am?” he asked gruffly, his hot breath meeting your freezing nose. Growing nervous, you tried to push yourself off of the man before bringing your gaze up to him. The hood pulled over his head and the beanie beneath it didn't make it easy to figure out his face, but once you did, you gulped loudly — partly because he was certainly a handsome sight, but partly because there was barely any of skin visible from amidst the swollen bruises and stitched wounds. Some of them looked old, just faded memories by now, but you could have sworn he had just walked out of a fight. God, you hoped you weren't accidentally picking one with him yourself.

Only after you had stared for an unreasonable amount of time, you nodded, and looked down simply to find his large hands holding your arms to keep you steady, something he had instantly done to save you from a painful landing onto the slippery, snowy pavement.

”Yeah, I am, sorry. And thank you", you rambled, before stepping back as an attempt to end the humiliation, but you had completely forgotten about the leash around you, and ended up falling behind at that instant.

Luckily, the stranger was quick and stealthy despite his hard, large frame, and before you could stumble backwards, he had grabbed you once again with his eyes blown wide with surprise. Feeling your cheeks heat up, blending in with the blush that the freezing air had already caused, you pursed your lips together to hide the shame spreading out within you like a wildfire. Could you be any more embarrassing? Surely, it couldn't get worse than being pressed flush against a strange man's chest while your dog watched from aside with his literal puppy eyes, as if he hadn't done a damn thing.

"Sorry, it's— uh— the leash—", you stuttered, and immediately, you both looked down and barely avoided bumping heads when you spotted the wire wrapped even tighter around your ankles. In response, the man chuckled lowly, and nodded his head to confirm that it was true — you were still a prisoner of the dog, who was simply following the situation while wagging his tail happily.

"Yeah, how 'bout I hold him, and you solve that?" he offered, and before you could even say anything, he had moved with his plan and gently took your dog by his collar. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you crouched down enough to unhook the leash from the collar and then spin it around yourself until it was all in your hands instead of a mess around your shoes. You were just about to apologize for the inconvenience once again, but you had barely opened your mouth when you noticed the man grinning at your best friend, muttering a "Hi there", as the two of them stared at one another. Only when your hand reached back down to click the leash back on, causing your cold fingers to brush with his calloused ones, the man snapped out of it and looked up at you.

Standing up once again, you both stared at each other in silence, before you blurted out, "Are you okay?", confusing him to a point where the corners of his lips twitched just slightly, but once you had gestured to his beaten features, he swept his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded curtly.

"Yeah, nothin' you gotta worry about, ma'am", he replied simply, and just as he was about to step aside and continue walking with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, you had spoken up yet again, earning his attention when you did.

You introduced yourself, not quite sure why you would, but he turned over to you, dark eyes meeting yours for a moment that felt a lot longer than it was in reality.

"Frank."

You didn’t see each other again for a while after that, but a month later when the snow had begun to melt and the sun stuck around for a little longer, he walked past a flyer that immediately caught his eye. It was a picture of you hugging your dog, declaring that the dog had been lost and you would reward anyone who would help you find him. He tried to walk away, insisting it wasn’t his problem, but he couldn’t get you out of his head, certain that you were completely devastated.

Besides, he knew what kind of crooks lived in the city. He had saved enough animals to know they could fall into the wrong hands, and he didn’t want your dog to be one of them. So, for two days, he relentlessly sought after your baby, not stopping until he was finally on a trail that could lead to something.


With the flyer scrunched in his fist, his other one banged on the neatly painted front door of a house that looked less shitty than most he had seen, his hood pulled over his head to avoid being recognized, but at this point, he was willing to go to great lengths. Hell, he had even asked for Red's help.

When the door was finally opened, he came face to face with a sweet old lady, and he tried his best to make himself look smaller and less intimidating. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. You haven't seen this dog, have ya?" his rough voice was quickly breaking the silence as he uncoiled the poster in his hand and showed it to the lady, who slowly put on her glasses and inspected the photo. Something in Frank cheered when her eyes lit up and she seemed to recognize the photo, and even more relief kicked in when she proceeded to nod her head.

"Oh, yes! I found him on the street a few nights ago, but I haven't had the time to find the owner yet. Do you know who he belongs to?" the old lady questioned curiously, and as if on cue, a familiar dog waddled from the house to the front door, and cracking a small smile in response, Frank nodded.

"A heartbroken woman, I'm sure. She'll be pretty damn grateful that you saved this guy, ma'am", he answered before kneeling down and lifting his large hands to scratch the dog behind his ears. "Hey there, boy. Been lookin' for ya. Wanna get back to your mom, huh?" he muttered quietly, the dog leaning into his gentle touch approvingly. He was incredibly glad that a sweet woman like this one had taken him in instead of some abusive criminal, and he knew you would be too.

"Well, tell your girlfriend she has a very sweet dog", the old lady fondly poked at the boy one last time, and stifling a smile, Frank nodded and looked down, almost shy.

"I'll, uh, I'll make sure to pass the message", he gave one last look of gratitude to the woman as he backed away from her porch, and after exchanging nods, the lady returned indoors and Frank walked to his truck with the dog in tow. "Let's get you home, huh? Whaddya say?"

In all honesty, you were beginning to lose the last shreds of hope, but the sound of a firm knock on your door snapped you out of your haze. Gulping, you made your way to the front door and cracked it open, and as soon as you saw what was awaiting in the hallway, you let out a trembling breath and broke into tears of joy, your heart filling with love and relief when your dog jumped into your arms from the strong pair that had been steadily carrying him.

"Oh, you're home!" you cried out while holding onto the dog, who licked at your face and whined desperately for more scratches and cuddles and affection. And you were more than happy to give that to him, just over the moon — your dog was alive and well, and there were no words to describe how good it felt to see and hold him again.

Only after you had finally set the squirming dog down so he could go get some water — of course, you had been filling his bowl even if he wasn't there to drink it — you looked up at the doorway to meet the gaze of your savior, and at the realization that none other than Frank had found and returned your missing dog, your heart melted. Or maybe it was the genuine, fond smile that he couldn't wipe from his face as he followed the reunion between you and your baby boy.

"You found him", you breathed out, an overjoyed laugh breaking through your tears as you covered your mouth with your palm and shook your head in disbelief and utter, incredible gratitude. Frank was parting his lips to say something, but he couldn't let out a single word when you had already stumbled forward and wrapped your arms around his muscular body, feeling his rough jacket against your skin as you forced a warm, tight hug onto him. He was caught by surprise, and while it wasn't the first time a relieved damsel in distress had insisted on giving a hug as a thank you, this time, he didn't want to weasel out of it. Instead, he awkwardly lifted his own arms and wrapped them around your shorter body, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he held onto you for what was only a couple of seconds, but felt like forever.

By clearing his throat eventually, Frank broke the moment and you understood to step back whilst wiping your eyes. "Yeah, well, he don't deserve to get locked up by those assholes that abuse dogs. None of them do. And uh, you don't deserve to go through that, either, so yeah. Tracked the boy down for ya", he gestured towards the dog, who was already rushing back to the two humans at the door, clearly taken a liking to Frank as well — and you agreed, especially when he lifted his heavy boot enough to block the doorway to avoid another run-off.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without him, really. This means so much to me", you sighed deeply, nothing but the truth in your words. Before an awkward silence could land between you, you continued with, "I know my apartment is kind of a mess right now, but would you like to come in for some coffee?”

Frank stared at you for a couple of seconds, silent and careful. At first, he was amused that you thought a little mess would drive him away, but when he let the suggestion sink in, he felt his mouth run dry while his hands did the opposite and proceeded to collect sweat on them. What the hell had gotten into him? And yet, even if he knew he should have said no for the sake of your safety, for the sake of not dragging you down with him and avoiding attachment from the both of you, he ended up smiling.

"Fuck, why not."

You grew closer and closer ever since then, and though it took him a while to get the courage to officially ask you out, your relationship soon evolved. The nervousness of a crush developed into something more serious and before you knew it, you had had your first kiss and your first night together, he introduced you to his best friends and finally, you moved in together. Your dog quickly adjusted to the new normal, incredibly affectionate towards Frank, and vice versa. When he had first met you, he had never thought he’d regain that domestic bliss of a girlfriend and a family pet that he had lost, but he was so happy to have it back.

And for a while, things were perfect.

Your blissful life took a turn one night — you were sound asleep in Frank’s arms, his protective hold of you always easing you into sweet dreams, but you were startled awake when your dog cried out in pain. He wouldn’t stop whining, and you sat up on the bed to find him crying on the floor, clearly hurt somehow. Anxiety rushed into your heart and you shook Frank awake, not sure what else to do.

”Frankie. Frank, something’s wrong”, you whispered, and jolting up in that usual fighting reflex of his, he looked around the room until his stare landed on your worried features. He ran his hand across his face and tried to shake off the restless sleep he had been stuck in, eventually processing your panicked state and the dog’s cries.

He climbed out of bed and went over to the dog to assess, his eyes darting all over his body to make sure there was no external injury. He couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but that only deepened his frown, unsure what could be causing it. For a while, he was crouched down, observing the boy, and you sat on the bed impatiently, but finally, Frank stood up and gave you a serious look.

”Get dressed, sweetheart. We gotta take him to the vet”, he announced, and nodding hastily, you followed him out of the bed and found some clothes. You were terrified and you appreciated that Frank was a man of action, whereas you were fighting the urge to freeze completely.

He took charge, carrying the wincing dog into the truck and buckling you in. Nervous tears streamed down your face, and you feared the worst — your dog was no young boy anymore, and you knew that meant a bigger risk to his well-being. Frank could tell you were falling apart, and he tried his best to calm you down, his hand gripping yours while the other one gripped the wheel.

”It’s gonna be alright, darlin’. The vet will know what to do, yeah? Just breathe. Maybe it’s nothin’, right?” he reassured you, and although you nodded, you found his words difficult to believe. You loved him for his attempts to soothe you, but there was no denying that you were freaking out entirely, the panic only growing worse with the dog howling in your arms.

”I can’t lose him”, you sniffled, and swallowing hard at the thought of the worst case scenario, Frank squeezed your hand.

”I know, sweetheart. I know.” He didn’t try to tell you that you wouldn’t lose him, not wanting to give you false hope in case things would go south, but he was dedicated to being there for you no matter what.

You arrived at the emergency vet and Frank took the dog from your arms to carry him inside. It was like an out-of-body experience, you lost track of time and space and you couldn’t stop crying, even when Frank wiped your tears away from your eyes. The vet took the dog from Frank and took him away for an examination, leaving you in the waiting room with your boyfriend’s hand in your tight grasp.

”I’m so scared”, you admitted shakily, the lump in your throat only worsening, but it was nothing compared to the weight on your chest. You felt like throwing up or fainting, and you knew for a fact that without Frank by your side, you would have already done both.

”Hey, look at me”, Frank requested softly, and with tear-filled eyes, you met his gaze. ”I ain’t leavin’ your side, got that? I’m here, no matter what happens”, he swore, attaching his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss.

The vet came out soon to inform you that your dog needed surgery, and it immediately made you anxious. Still, you had no choice but to agree, but before the vet took your baby in for the operation, he let you see him for some peace of mind.

Frank stood back, because as much as he had come to love him, he was still your dog and he knew that moment was for you and you alone. He had already been sedated, meaning he was no longer whining in pain, and that brought you a little comfort. Crying quietly, you petted him, scared but still smiling because he was there and he was your everything. Regardless of how the surgery was going to go, you would always have this moment, not to mention all the years you had shared together.

Things happened quickly after that. You and Frank had to retreat into the waiting room, and as 4 AM lurked around the corner, you wept in your boyfriend’s arms. He had you in his tight embrace, not sure what he could possibly say to make you feel better, but determined to at least hold you through it. The surgery lasted a while, but even though you were so, so tired, the anxiety inside your gut wouldn’t let you fall asleep. You sat there, a ball of nerves, and Frank shushed you softly as you cried out of pure fear.

Then, the vet walked into the waiting room and you could tell something was wrong right away. As soon as he opened his mouth and condolences came out, your heart shattered in your chest and you burst into heavy sobs. You couldn’t hold yourself together, couldn’t breathe properly, the heartbreak too overwhelming to endure. Frank let you cry into his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and his own eyes filling with tears. He felt sucker-punched, too, but for your sake, he tried to be strong and brave.

The vet tried to tell you what had happened and ask you if you wanted to bury him or have him cremated, but you couldn’t process anything he was saying. Frank listened carefully, just so that he’d be able to explain it all to you later, but his priority was holding you through the violent sobs breaking out of you.

”We need a moment outside, that okay?” Frank asked the vet with a heavy heart, and he assured it was alright to take your time. Frank lifted you out of the chair and walked you out for some fresh air, the cool wind whipping against your wet cheeks. You couldn’t stop shaking and it didn’t seem like the pain was going to let go of you anytime soon, but Frank was in no rush — he was going to hold you through it, no matter how long it would take.

”I gotchu, sweetheart, I gotchu. I know it hurts. Let it out, it’s okay”, he spoke gently, trying his very best to give you some kind of hope, even if he knew things seemed bleak right now.

”I can’t do this, Frank. It’s too much. I don’t want to live without him”, you cried, unsure how you would possibly get through this. But Frank wasn’t going to let you sink into that kind of thinking.

”Oh, baby. We’ll get through this together, yeah? It’s gon’ take some time but I’m not lettin’ you deal with this alone, you hear me?” he promised you, cradling your head as he supported your weak body with his strong arms. ”This is fuckin’ heartbreaking. But you’re gon’ make it to the other side of this, I know you will. I’mma hold your hand the whole way”, he went on, unwilling to let you give up. He knew this was going to be hard to get over, but he had endless patience and understanding and he’d do anything to help you carry the weight.

”You’ll stick with me?” you asked through the cries, and nodding vehemently, Frank kissed your temple.

”Course, I will. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. I love you, yeah? More than you know. I promise it’s gon’ hurt a lil less with time. You trust me?” he asked with sincerity, and you gave him a fragile nod.

”I trust you”, you confirmed, and he flashed a faint smile in return.

”That’s my girl. You’re so strong”, he praised you, his gruff voice full of love for you. He had so much faith in you, and even if you didn’t see it yourself yet, he knew you would be able to pull through this loss.

And you knew that without Frank, it would have been much, much worse. Your best friend was gone, but you still had the man of your dreams, and that was going to keep you going.

He was right. It took months, but day by day, the pain inside you grew duller and weaker. It still hurt, but it turned into a longing ache instead of a stabbing agony. Your home still had reminders of your dog, and Frank loved to talk about him with you, meaning that even when he was gone, he really wasn’t.

[the-auguer]

The Forbidden Book of… Uh, Forbiddeness

Normal forbidden book mishaps lead to Mammon getting hallucination whammied into his ultimate dream world.

cw: suggestive

Dull, throbbing pain laced up Mammon’s leg, his body jerking back in an attempt to counterbalance its precarious tip forward. 

“What the hell, Satan!” Mammon barks, kicking vengefully at the book stack that had violated him so carelessly. It toppled so very satisfyingly. Stupid Satan and his stupid room with his stupid book stacks that are just lying around, waiting to be tripped over. 

“Do not,” Satan intones in that dangerous way he’s perfected over the centuries, “kick my books.”

Mammon scowls back at him. Wrathful or not, Mammon is the second born, Mammon is the big brother, and Mammon is the one helping Satan out of the kindness of his heart. 

You stumble over your own deadly pile of books, kicking a few over as you reorient yourself. You crouch to stack them, glancing over your shoulder sheepishly. “My bad, Satan.”

Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly out of the kindness of Mammon’s heart that he’s here. But he couldn’t just leave you alone in the damn snake’s den!

Satan grunts, waving his hand at you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey! Why do they get a pass and I don’t?” Mammon yells across Satan’s room. “Here I am, helpin’ you like you asked—”

“You’re only helping because they are,” Satan cuts Mammon off, dry and slightly amused. Like the bastard knows something Mammon doesn’t. Ugh.

Mammon’s mouth gapes open in offense. “What! You don’t know a damn thing, you… you…!”

“‘You’ what?” Satan asks, creeping closer to Mammon.

Mammon rears up, ready, but you call out from the distant side of the room.

“Do you think it’ll be in this section?”

Satan’s leer melts right off, turning contemplative. “That depends. Are you in the history or the practical leather work section?”

“Uhhh, neither?” You duck further into the dusty shelves from your crouch. “This looks like… demonic industrial psychology?”

Satan snaps his fingers and begins to walk over. “Yes, actually, it should be a shelf over from there.”

“Okay.” You lift yourself up off the floor, brushing the dust out of your hair. “Ick. Will it be to the right or left?”

Satan’s confident stride to the shelf falters. 

Mammon cackles. “Lookit you! You don’t even know where it is.”

Satan’s brows draw back down his face immediately.

“It would be a lot easier to find anything if someone hadn’t wrecked my room like a moron!” 

“I dunno why you’re yellin’ at me!” Mammon shouts back. “I didn’t do anythin’!”

“You ate Beel’s sandwich.” Satan says. “Again.”

“I dunno why you’re bringing that back up,” Mammon sulks. “It’s not my fault he went on a rampage over a stupid sandwich. Besides, that happened months ago.”

“It’s been two weeks and my room is still a mess.”

“I don’t see any difference.”

“Why you—“

Satan steps towards Mammon.

“Satan,” you call. “Still needing those directions.”

You’ve leaned yourself against a wall, like you don’t really care about all the shouting Mammon and Satan are doing. Hell, maybe you really don’t. Mammon knows that he himself does a lot of the shouting. Maybe you’re used to it. 

Maybe you like it. 

“Ah,” Satan says. “Yes.”

He stares at the wall, considering. 

“Maybe to the right?” He does not sound sure. 

You laugh. Just a little. Mammon finds himself leaning towards you, even though you’re ten feet away. 

“I’ll take left and you take right?” You suggest to Satan.

Mammon nods. “I’ll go left with ya!”

Satan sighs. “Sure.”

Mammon bounds over to stand next to you. You quirk a smile at him. A nice, small one. Like there’s still a bit of a laugh caught in your mouth. Mammon wants… he wants…

“I’ll look low if you’ll look high.”

Mammon startles, but recovers just as quickly. “Leave it to the Great Mammon!”

He cranes his neck, squinting at the ceiling height shelves that make up Satan’s walls, only just able to read the titles embossed on the spines of the books. 

“Hey,” Mammon says, “what’re we looking for again?”

That half of a laugh falls from your mouth again. “Only you, Mammon, I swear.” 

“There is only one Mammon,” Mammon says seriously. It makes you huff again. 

“We’re looking for Satan’s cursed cookbook.”

“Oh yeah! Hey, Satan, what’re you making for dinner?”

“Nothing if I can’t find my cookbook,” Satan says tersely.

“Eh? Just use your D.D.D. for recipes like everyone else.”

“No.” Satan replies, rifling through a mid-level shelf. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s not right. My Cursed Demon Cuisine Cookbook has every recipe a demon could need, and it already has my adjustments written in it. It’s irreplaceable. I will never cook without it.”

“Yeesh, alright.”

Mammon squints at the shelves again. Something something Demonic Animal Acupuncture , some fancy cursive that Mammon doesn’t care to make horns or tails of, Forbidden Fruits of the Demonic Realm , something something Skewering Techniques , something Demon Cuisine something, some book without a title, Practical Woodwork in Relation to Leather Work , and Demonic Tree Species and their Habitats . 

Damn, Satan really had a line up of bores in his room. Nothing interesting, like mechanic books or something. How to Win Big Fast , that’s Mammon’s kind of book.

Nothing like… hmm. 

“What’d you say the book title was?”

Satan snorts dismissively. His search has been completely halted, as he has immersed himself into hunching over a different book.

You glance up, raking your hair out of your face with your hand as you do so. You need a haircut, something Asmo has been bemoaning all week. Mammon’s mouth is dry. 

“ Cursed Demon Cuisine Cookbook , I think.”

Mammon whips his head up. “I think I found it.”

You draw yourself up from the floor. “Really? Where?”

Mammon points. “Fourth shelf down, kinda on the right.”

You hum, eyes nearly in slits from how hard you’re having to squint to see that far. Your nose is scrunched. Your brows too. You’re really… you look so… Mammon wants to poke your nose. 

“Oh, I think that is it!”

Mammon’s chest puffs. 

“What’d I tell ya? Leave it to the Great Mammon, the best of the best.”

You pat his chest. “You did great Mammon.”

Cheeks suddenly hot, Mammon looks back up the shelf. “O-of cou-course. Let me… I’ll get it down!”

“How?” You ask. “It’s pretty high up there.”

“Oh, sad little human. I can get that book down with my eyes closed.” Mammon replies, shaking out his hands and then his legs. “Never underestimate Mammon!”

“Right… and you’re going to…”

Mammon jumps, his eyes truly closed. 

“Mammon!”

Laughing, Mammon stretches out his hand. At the peak of his jump, he brushes against the spine of a book. He snatches it, certain he’s correctly judged how high he’d needed to jump. 

As gravity begins to pull at his body, Mammon grins. You’ll be so impressed with him, once he lands. He’ll be perfectly balanced, practically bouncing on his toes, with the book in his hands in one fell swoop. You’ll tell him how great he is. How powerful and cool. And you’ll… You’ll. 

You’ll what?

Mammon hits the ground, his knees stock straight and unprepared. He stumbles, arms pinwheeling, before finally regaining his balance. That was close. 

He holds the book over his head. “A-HA! Victory is Mammon’s!”

Satan has finally pulled his nose out of his book and made his way to stand next to you. Mammon lowers the book to show it to him. 

Satan sighs. “Mammon, that’s not my cookbook.”

“Whaddaya mean it’s not your cookbook? We saw it for sure—” Mammon glances down. “Damn it!”

It was the stupid no title book that was right next to the cookbook. Mammon had been so close. His jump was perfect, even if his landing wasn’t. If he had only been a little to the left he would have gotten the right book!

“Don’t worry Mammon,” you say. “You still found it. All we have to do is get it down.”

Mammon grumbles. “Stupid no-title book.”

“Did you say no title?” Satan’s voice is sharp. 

“Yeah,” Mammon replies. What’s all the fuss about leather bound, unmarked books anyway? Mammon has a few paperbacks in his room, and they don’t look nearly as namby-pamby as this stupid thing. Mammon cracks the book open. 

“Mammon,” Satan warns. “Do not open that.”

Oh-ho? Is it Satan’s diary? Mammon bets it is. Well, it’s not like Satan should have anything too embarrassing in here. It’s probably all just ranting about how much he hates Lucifer. It wouldn’t hurt if Mammon had a little peek. 

Maybe he can tell you about it later. If it’s funny, of course. You might not laugh, though. Oh well. 

Mammon pulls it the rest of the way open. 

“Mammon!”

The only thing Mammon really remembered with any clarity was how strange it felt to have his knees buckle underneath him. 

“Mammon!” His face isn’t pale, or even really stricken with pain, but your hands hesitate over him all the same. What if you make whatever this is worse? What if you hurt him?

Satan sighs. “Idiot. I told him not to open that book.”

You turn to Satan. He seems twice as tall from where you kneel next to Mammon, but you’re not phased. 

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He opened the Forbidden Book of…” Satan delicately flips the fallen book closed with his shoe. It has no title, just a symbol you can’t decipher. “The Forbidden Book of Dreams.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Aren’t your forbidden book titles usually a little more on the nose than that?”

Satan shivered, likely reminded of the body-switching debacle. “Yes, you are right. However, I have acquired some forbidden books that follow different rules. I never really got around to experimenting with this one. Maybe it activated because—”

“Stop,” you say. “We can talk about that later. Right now…” 

Mammon looks strange, lying limp on the floor. Even in sleep, he should be restless. Muttering and rolling and kicking. Instead his only movement is the rise and fall of his chest. 

You feel wretched just looking at him. 

“We need to get him somewhere more comfortable.”

Mammon blinks out of his haze, rather confused. It’s not often he can’t remember when he walked into a casino. 

This casino seems different, too. At least, Mammon hasn’t been in it before. The walls are covered in a golden sheen, with high arcing ceilings where gleaming demonic crystal chandlers hang. The carpet is a warm, lush red, with dozens of gambling tables full of patrons scatter across the room. The dealer at his table is one of those four armed demons that Mammon loves and hates. Loves because of how quick the next hand is shuffled passed out. Hates because the extra hands make it much harder to identify the cards Mammon’s opponents receive. Glancing down at his hand of cards, Mammon conceals a devilish grin. Poker. Mammon is awesome at poker. And his cards… his cards are good. Really good. 

And he has a lot of chips. Mammon’s neck cranes with how much his head has to tip in order to see the end of his chips. 

Mammon hasn’t had good prospects like this is a while. Ever since that whole thing with the witches and Lucifer cutting him off, Mammon hasn’t had enough money to bet to win big like this. He can feel his mouth watering.

“Hey, Mammon? Where are you looking?”

The chips, as numerous and shiny as they are, quickly loose all meaning to Mammon.

It’s you. Sitting in the chair next to him. You’re glittering, draped in all sorts of gold accessories and jewels. If Mammon dips his eyes, he can see a discarded pile of tributes at your feet. Defective. Not nearly pretty enough to grace your body. 

You’re wearing yellow. It’s not a color Mammon usually sees you in. It’s lovely. You look… you look so…

A hand feathers through Mammon’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. It makes Mammon shiver all the way down to his toes. 

“Much better.” Your smile brings heat to Mammon’s chest. “I like it when you look at me like that.”

“Li-like what, st-stupid human?” Mammon splutters. 

The hand in his hair tugs. Not enough to hurt but just enough to reprimand.

“I don’t like being called that.” You’re… you’re frowning at him. A little bit. Mammon’s mouth is dry. 

“S-sor-sorry.” Mammon replies lamely, his tongue sluggish in his mouth. 

“Hmm,” you release his head and Mammon does his best to not chase after your hand. “Good enough, I guess. Your turn, then.”

Mammon turns to the table. His opponents’ piles of chips look pitiful next to his own. They watch him apprehensively. 

You’re watching him too, a half smile lazily curling about your face. “Go on. Win me a bracelet this time.” You show your wrists, both already heavy with bangles of all sorts, of diamond and gold and ruby. Your left wrist looks a bit more full than your right. Mammon finds his mouth is no longer dry anymore. He has a little too much saliva, now. “I don’t want an uneven amount. I’m sure the Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, can fix that for me.”

“Yea-yeah! You bet!”

Mammon turns his head back to the table. The demon in green is looking pretty poor on chips and he has a very, very nice gold watch on his arm. Unbidden, a smirk crawls up Mammon’s cheeks. 

You huff out a quiet laugh. 

“I’m all in!”

There seems to be an unbearable pain in Lucifer’s head, what with how hard he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel a bit embarrassed, because, yes, Lucifer only left the house for a few hours and there’s another crisis. Satan, Belphegor, and you stand in a semi-circle around Mammon’s bed. 

“Belphie, what does he look like?” Lucifer rasps, only just holding onto his sanity. 

Belphegor leans over Mammon, a discerning look in his eyes. He sighs. 

“He’s in there. Just dreaming.”

All of the air that was stuck in your lungs releases. Breathing is so much easier now. 

“Can you get him out,” you ask. Your hands flex, aching to clamp around Mammon’s hand. His hands are always warm, though. You’re a little afraid that they’ll be cold. 

Belphegor see-saws his hand. “Yes and no. I can go in and try, but the Forbidden Book will have its own conditions for Mammon to wake up.”

You turn to Satan, who is very carefully leafing through the book with oven mitts on. 

Satan grunts, turning a page. “Still looking. I found the activation requirements, though. It says in this passage that for the curse to work, a demon must be a ‘warrior at heart’ and ‘dreaming of something dear to their heart’ so that the dream world can be constructed accordingly.”

In your mind’s eye, you see Mammon’s wide grin as he opens the book.

”A warrior?” Belphie scoffs. “Mammon hasn’t done anything special in centuries.”

Lucifer makes a skeptical noise. “Inaction does not invalidate the claim to the title. Mammon… has always been one of a kind.”

“That’s true enough, I suppose. What do you mean ‘constructed’?” Belphegor asks, one hand placed carefully on Mammon’s forehead. 

“Just that,” Satan replies. “It takes the dreams of the demon and makes a world that they’ll never want to leave. Quite fascinating, really. This was crafted to be a trial for warriors, to test if they would truly be able to turn from their inherent sin and serve their greater demon lord. When I saw it up for auction on Akuzon, I had to have it. Shame about the situation, though.”

Satan did not sound too disappointed. 

“You mean he can wake up on his own?” Lucifer says. 

Satan shrugs. “I still haven’t found the actual chapter for it, but in theory, yes. He just has to have the willpower to turn away from his own sin.”

An uneasy feeling roils in your stomach. Turning away from your sin might be hard for regular, low-level demons, but an Avatar of Sin like Mammon…

The others seem to feel similarly. 

Lucifer turns to Belphegor. “How likely is it that you can get him out, Belphie?” 

“Pretty likely.” Belphegor replies, hand smoothing over Mammon’s cheek to his pulse. “Sleep is in my domain, so dreams also fall in by association, and I’m not sensing any kind of power that would overrule my own. The thing is, I don’t know if the curse will retaliate if I interfere. Could be that Mammon can never go a night without a nightmare or something equally awful. That sort of thing would take a lot of time to reverse.”

“Wouldn’t there be a failsafe if it was a warriors’ trial?” You ask. 

Satan shakes his head. “This particular demon tribe did not believe in failsafes. If you didn’t have the discipline to resurface on your own, you didn’t resurface at all.”

“Will he die? If he doesn’t resurface?”

“No,” Lucifer assures, his voice firm in a way that gives you a little bit of relief. “Mammon is an Avatar, so he won’t die. Besides, Belphie will get him out, if he can’t on his own. We’ll deal with whatever comes after.”

“How long will we wait, then?”

Lucifer looks to Belphegor. 

Belphegor yawns, likely exhausted by the serious atmosphere. “Two days or so, maybe?”

“The longest recorded coma was seven months, sixteen days, and eleven hours.” Satan pipes up.

“A week, then.” Belphie amends.

Lucifer nods. “In the meantime, I expect everyone to attend their classes as they usually would. I will talk to Diavolo.”

You nod, your eyes fixed on Mammon. 

Hopefully it won’t take more than a week. 

“ALL RIGHT! EVERYONE BOW DOWN TO THE GREAT MAMMON!”

All demons of all sins could only oblige, as Mammon had taken every valuable on the table. And a few off of it, too.

You laugh. It’s not that soft breath but an honest guffaw that has you shaking in your seat. You’re dripping in luxury, your ornaments doubled in number and rarity, a bigger heap of offerings at your slippered feet. It’s still not enough. Mammon wants… Mammon wants to see you in a crown. Maybe a crown of ruby, to compliment the yellow you’re wearing. Maybe one of emeralds. A mighty, tall crown worth more than the entire casino they sit in. 

Fingers whisper under Mammon’s chin as you tip his head towards you. So many necklaces of different kinds dangle from your neck, but not a choker. Mammon wonders why. He likes the look of them, how they emphasize the muscles or the graceful column or the lovely plump of a demon’s neck. 

You smile like you know what he’s thinking. “I saved something for you.” 

It’s leather or something like it, which isn’t strange for the demon world. It has a huge sapphire embedded in gold hanging from the middle. You turn his chair to face yours, your knees touching his, and fasten it around his throat. It’s tight, tight enough that he feels it constrict slightly as he swallows. 

“There we are. It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Of co-course it do-does. Everythin’ looks better on me.”

“Careful.” You say. You take hold of his chin again. Mammon’s world narrows down to your fingers and your eyes. “I might get upset if you keep being mean to me.”

The world is dizzy. Was he… was he really being mean? He always talks to you a bit like that, but he never thought that you would… that he would upset you. 

Your brows ease from their furrow. “Don’t worry, Mammon. You didn’t upset me. I was playing.”

Your fingers begin to withdraw. Mammon clutches your wrist. 

“Don’t stop.” Mammon nearly whines. “I didn’t say ya should stop.”

You smile at him. Mammon feels the choker against his throat as he swallows. 

“I won’t, Mammon, don’t worry.” You lean in, the hand Mammon’s holding moving to cup his jaw and the other going to the poker table behind him. Every demon’s eyes are on you. On your wealth, on your magnificence, on your daring. On your lips, skimming across Mammon’s cheek to his  earlobe. 

The the back of the chair that Mammon sits in is the only thing keeping him upright. He feels like he’s trembling apart at the seams, lightheaded with how close you are.

“Hey,” you whisper to him, your lips brushing his ear. Mammon is about to morph into his demon form, if only to loose some of the excess heat that is blazing across every inch of his skin. 

“Yeah?” Mammon rasps back. 

You stand between his splayed open legs, so close you’re practically in his lap. You lean away from his ear, both a relief and a loss. He feels set aflame by your very breath. 

“Let’s go play something else.”

Mammon glances over. Other demons are beginning to crowd the table, raring to play a game of poker, but wary of the Avatar of Greed and his winning streak. 

“What should we play?” Mammon asks. He knows a bit of what he wants, but you could want something else. And if it makes you keep smiling at him like that…

“Anything,” you murmur. “As long as you take everything they’ve got. I want to walk out tripping over money.”

Shit. Shit.  

Mammon feels heat suffuse his body with vengeance. His head lolls back to rest at the top of his chair. 

You huff— Mammon can feel your breath ghost along his cheek— and run a finger down Mammon’s throat, gliding across the choker and ending at his collar bone. 

Mammon’s back quivers, curling up off of the plush cushion of his seat. His breath is leaving him fast, and he can barely inhale enough to keep up with the demand for oxygen. 

You straighten, the heat of your body retreating with you, leaving Mammon all but limp in his chair. 

The ceiling is nice. Has Mammon mentioned how nice the ceiling is? Very high, very pretty. Gold and red, just like everything else in the casino. 

“Where are we going, Mammon?”

Mammon exhales. You want everything off of every demon. All of it. Mammon wants to give it to you. Wants to so very bad. 

He stands. “Let’s go play some craps.” 

Asmodeus drapes his torso dramatically over the table. 

“It’s not fair. Why does Mammon get to sleep through school with his deepest desires?”

“Careful,” you mutter ruefully, picking at your breakfast. You can’t really help how bitter your voice is. Someone has brought up this same topic at every meal. “You sound like Levi right now.”

“It’s true,” Levi bemoans, crossing his arms, “why does he get to live out his ultimate dream and I don’t? Mammon is probably wasting this opportunity on counting Grimm when I could be saving the world with my precious Ruri-chan! Shaking hands with Henry! Playing a real life RPG! How could Lucifer lock away my golden ticket to paradise? I would give anything, even my limited edition Double Bubble Ruri-chan: Disco Era Funtime doll!”

You put down your fork, frustration killing your appetite. You haven’t talked to Mammon in two days. By the time school is over, it’ll be three days. He’ll be in the same realm, in the same house even, and you still won’t be able to talk to him. It makes you nauseous. 

You don’t blame the others. To them, this is a temporary situation that Mammon will awaken from anyway, so why not be jealous of it? But to you… 

You miss Mammon. That’s all there is to it. 

Beel stares at your plate. You push it towards him. He drools over it, but turns away. 

“You should eat more,” Beel grits out with difficulty. “Eating is good for you.”

You reach down for the backpack at your feet. “Don’t worry, Beel. I’m not hungry, so I’m going to start heading to RAD.”

Beel does not wait for a second confirmation. He digs into your plate dutifully. He’s been eating a bit more than usual, you think. He’s probably anxious. You make sure to pat him on the shoulder on your way out. 

As you walk out the door, you hear Asmodeus’s voice, loud in his laughter. 

“Counting Grimm, Levi? Oh please. Mammon is probably in some casino with them blowing on his dice for luck. Maybe blowing something else, too, the lucky bastard.”

Hot breath fans gently over Mammon’s knuckles, and Mammon feels his cheeks heat at your dipped head. You rise, and Mammon rolls his dice. Eleven. Just what he needed.

Your arm winds around his shoulders as he cackles and collects his winnings of this round. Mammon is on a winning streak a mile wide, with his opponents in tears. 

“You’re lucky,” Mammon announces to you, to the casino, to the world. “I’ll take ya to any casino, anywhere.”

“Really?” You ask, your arm a band around Mammon’s chest. 

“Hell yeah, baby! Did ya see me? I won every game!”

You still, and Mammon stills with you. 

His face flushes. He considers backpedaling. Calling you a stupid human, saying that you should be grateful he wants to take you anywhere. But… you said it could make you upset. 

“Mammon. Mammon, look at me.”

Reluctantly he turns to look at you. 

Your cheeks are pink and your smile is kind. You lean your forehead against his. 

“I like that,” you tell him tenderly. “Say it again?”

Mammon murmurs something or another that he himself did not hear. 

“Please Mammon?” Your hands smooth over his shoulders. “Mammon?”

“Baby,” Mammon whispers, unsure. 

He has only a second to doubt himself before your lips drag across his collarbone. Mammon’s hands rise to brush against your waist, uncertain. Then your lips move just a little and bite down and all Mammon can do is hold onto you like a lifeline. He would shout, but something about the way that your teeth felt… it was… weird. Dry and not at all tingly. Maybe Mammon didn’t like biting? But…

“Hey, Mammon?” Your voice is breathy, like you ran a mile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Wanna get out of here?”

More than anything. “Sure, baby.”

Mammon gets a Little D to cash out all his chips and another to carry the excess wealth to the car. He wasn’t sure if he actually had a car here, but he could improvise. Maybe trade a few hundred thousand Grimm for a real nice car. 

But he takes you to the parking lot and there it is. His red convertible, top already down. The one he he’s been wanting to take you on joy rides in. You climb in like it’s no big deal. 

Swallowing, Mammon climbs in the drivers’ side. 

“Where to?” Mammon asks, unsure himself. If they go back to the House of Lamentation, Lucifer is sure to ream him out about gambling again. Mammon is in too good of a mood for it to be spoiled by Lucifer’s endless nagging. 

You tip your head back to rest on the shoulder of the headrest. 

“Anywhere. As long as you’re driving.”

Mammon laughs nervously, and puts the car in reverse. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. 

Mammon drives to the edge of the sea. On the beach. 

You sigh as the beach breeze moves through the car. Then you sit up to look at him. 

“Is there anyone around?”

“I, uh,” Mammon swivels his head, searching. Strangely enough, there’s no sign of any other demons on this beach. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

Mammon’s about to ask what’s good about being alone of a huge beach like two teens in a horror movie when you amble over the center console and sit yourself on his lap. All that can leave Mammon’s mouth is a strangled wheeze. 

You sparkle even more in the sunlight. You’re literally blinding. 

You tuck your head into Mammon’s neck and he awkwardly touches your waist with his fingertips. There’s a click, and Mammon is falling backwards as his seat reclines, yelping. Your breath puffs against the skin of his throat. Then your lips replace your breath. 

Mammon’s body jolts, jostling you from where you lay on top of him. You only laugh and feather another kiss under Mammon’s jaw, then against his cheek. 

“Mammon,” you breathe, your eyes bearing into his. Slowly, you inch forward, and all Mammon can do is meet your lips with his. 

You let your pencil clatter uselessly against the fine wood of your desk. There would be no more productivity tonight, and you pack up the remainder of your homework. Hopefully you’ll be able to wake up early tomorrow and work on it after breakfast. Maybe curling up with a book will distract you more that homework.

Day four of Mammon’s coma has trickled away, leaving you on the cusp of the fifth day and all the more bitter for it. Satan said that there was no way to reverse the coma using the Forbidden book, and had left it completely at that. Now you either had to wait three more days or hope that Mammon gave up on the pool of Grimm he was probably swimming in at the very moment. 

As much as you believe in Mammon, you know that’s not very likely. 

You toss your book aside, bored of it within seconds. Much like everything else lately. Walking with Beelzebub or Asmodeus to school is nice, but it would be much nicer if Mammon were there. Eating lunch with Simeon, Luke, and Solomon was relaxing, but it would be so much more exciting if Mammon were there. Gaming with Leviathan and reading with Satan was fun, but you miss Mammon’s ridiculous schemes and raucous laughter. 

It’s strange. You always enjoyed all of those things normally when Mammon wasn’t in a coma, but you can’t now that he is. 

He’s down the hall from you right now and you miss him more than you did when you returned to the human world for all those months. 

Tired, but unlikely to fall asleep anytime soon, you tuck yourself under your bed covers and close your eyes. 

There’s nothing. 

Mammon’s eyes are wide open. Shocked. Terrified. 

There’s no warmth at all from your lips. 

There is no fluttery feeling. No giddiness. There’s not even the heat that Mammon was boiling with back at the casino. All of the warmth from then and now seems to have leached right out of him. 

You pull back, smile bright.

“Mammon. Mammon.” 

Your hips move just a little, and you move back in to kiss him. Mammon flails, rolls you off of him, and fumbles to open the driver’s side door. When it finally opens, Mammon stumbles out, lands flat on his face in the sand, and scrambles to his feet. 

You sit up in the car. You’re still deck out in shimmering jewels, and you look just the slightest bit rumpled. And hurt. You look so hurt. 

It’s nearly enough to make Mammon trip over himself to climb back in the car, but he can't forget the feeling of your lips on his, or lack thereof. 

Maybe he just built it up too much in his own mind? Maybe he did both you and him a disservice by raising you on a pedestal, and the real deal can’t hold a candle to it?

But no. Mammon remembers. 

Mammon remembers a late movie night, you asleep with your head on his shoulder. Your head lolled and your nose ended up in the crook of Mammon’s neck. Your breath took up Mammon’s every thought, and your proximity made his heart speed. Most of all, he remembers the touch of your sleeping lips to his skin, and how electrified he felt. Like he could punch straight through Cerberus and a hungry Beelzebub all in one go. 

Everything else felt so real, so why did your kiss make Mammon feel so…

Why did it feel so fake?

“Mammon, what’s going on?” You venture, stepping out of the still ajar car door. “Are you okay?” 

“Whaddaya mean ‘what’s going on’?” Mammon yells, hurt and terrified and unsure. “What the hell was that?”

“That was—,” you stutter, “I thought that you—”

“No! No, no, no, no.” Mammon grabs fistfuls of his hair. “Don’t look at me like that! Don’t do it.”

You’re teary eyed. Which is ridiculous, because Mammon should be the one crying. Why did it feel that way? Why does he not feel horror at the thought of you crying?

“Something’s wrong.” Mammon says to himself, to the empty beach, to you. 

“What’s wrong? Mammon, tell me what it is and we can fix it!”

Mammon whips his head around. It all started with this damn abandoned beach, that feeling of wrongness. No lovely beach this side of Devildom is ever without demons. Or was it the casino? He should go back there. Right now! Only…

Where was the casino again?

Mammon’s head spun. Which way was it? He drove here, so he should be able to go back, right? Since when does Mammon, Avatar of Greed, not know where any casino is?

Never. Mammon has never forgotten where a casino is in his life. 

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate. You’re crying, and your hands are trembling. 

“Talk to me! What’s going on?”

Mammon’s only gotten that many wins in a row a few times in his long, long life. And there’s no way Lucifer would ever let him bet enough money to play the type of high-stakes game that would result in that much money. He’s never seen that casino before, and doesn’t know where it is. Even if he concentrates, he can’t remember a single face from that casino. 

Which means that there’s no way that that was a casino. Which means the casino wasn’t real. 

“Mammon, you’re scaring me.”

Mammon looks down at you. You’re in yellow, his favorite color. You were in that fake casino with him, despite him never taking you to any demon casino anywhere in Devildom. You climbed right into the car he’s never shown you anywhere but his dreams. 

Dreams. 

Mammon takes in how hazy the horizon is. He spent several hours in that casino but the sun hasn’t budged from its half-mast in the sky, just before sunset. His favorite time of day. But there’s no day in the Devildom. And this isn’t one of Prince Diavolo’s special beaches.

“You’re not real,” he whispers. 

“What are you talking about, of course I’m real,” you cry, gripping his shoulders harder. 

“No,” Mammon says, “all of this isn’t real.”

He shoves fake-you away, skin burning with home close to him they were. How close he let them be. With one absent-minded hand, he rips off the leather choker and tosses it away carelessly. 

How was he supposed to get out of here? Was there some sort of spell? Was he supposed to fly out?

“It could be real,” fake-you says from the sand. They sit up, face contorted into a beatific smile. “You could stay here, forever. You could win every day. All the wealth you could ever imagine, gifted to you.” Mountains of gold pile up, tumbling over themselves as they stack high, high, high. “Nothing to slow you down. And then at night, you can take me home.” Fake-you rises and steps forward. Mammon retreats further away. “Think of all the fun we could have. You could do anything.”

Fake-you reclines in a pile, sliding a hand down their body, and it takes everything Mammon has not to throw up. 

The Grimm, skulls emblazoned and golden, are tempting. Mammon wants money, wants so much money that he’ll drown in it. But that… that isn’t real money, is it? What the fuck is Mammon supposed to buy with fake money?

“No! I don’t want fake money! I want real money!” Mammon kicks down a pile, feeling his fangs prickle his lower lip. What was the use of money that Mammon could never have in real life? What was the use of time spent with you when you weren’t really here? “I don’t want fake-you! I want the real you!”

“Why?” Fake-you asks, cupping a handful of gold and letting it pour from their hand. It makes musical clanks as it hits the rest of the coins and slides down the pile. “It’s as real as you believe it is, and so am I.” Fake-you grins. “Come on, Mammon. It’s not like you’ll ever get this chance anywhere else.”

Reeling with hurt and outrage, Mammon lets his demon form rise to the surface, feeling his power distort the very air. 

“I. Want. Out.”

The beach and fake-you are ripped to shreds by his claws. 

Belphegor crashed into the dinning room, looking more disheveled than usual. 

“Mammon’s waking up!”

Despite your human nature, you’re the fastest to react. You stumble to Mammon’s room, where he’s thrashing so violently you balk at the door. The blankets twist around him where his claws haven’t shredded them, and he’s growling. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Lucifer demands, pushing past his curious brothers, dragging Belphegor with him. 

Belphegor shrugs. “He’s waking up, but he’s forcing it. The Book’s fighting him.”

“Can you help him?” You ask. 

“I could,” Belphegor says, “but he doesn’t need it. Look.”

You turn back in enough time to see Mammon’s eyes fly right open, snarling in rage. Rising, he claws off the remaining blankets, and moves towards the crowed at the door, horns out and wings flared.

“Mammon,” you say, excited, shouldering past Lucifer. He doesn’t break his stride in his path to you, and when you reach out to hug him, he snatches you close to him. 

“You woke up,” you exclaim, squeezing him. “I thought I wouldn’t see you for two days! I took school notes, you can use them if you want.”

Mammon tilts up your head, the claws that tore up fabric in seconds gentle. “Mind if I check that this is real?”

“Yeah?” You reply. “How are you—”

He kisses you. Right there, in front of all six of his brothers. It’s soft, barely a brush of his lips on yours for a chaste second, but your heart nearly bursts in your chest with free fall sensation. Your head swims a little, and the words of the demons behind you fly right over your head. 

“Yeah,” Mammon sighs, stroking your cheek with his thumb, dopey smile growing on his face. “This is real all right.”

You have a million questions. How does your kiss make everything real? What was Mammon dreaming about? Did he miss you, too? 

As you open your mouth to ask any of these questions, Mammon collapses on you in a dead faint, taking you to the ground with him. 

Winded, you stare at the minuscule amount of ceiling that you can see through stark white hair. 

“Oh,” Satan says calmly. “The book did say to expect some disorientation upon awakening.”

[callistosposts]

Hey Chat.. I would like your indepth opinion on Hades... How did u create their design... Which ships containing them do u fw... Why do you personally think they got flung out of the solar system.... Do u think they could get back into the solar system....

🫣 Stare.

oooh i like this :D THIS IS GONNA BE A LONGGG POST

for Hades design it was really a matter of how I make a character as mysterious but still interesting as possible - his design is very subject to change once we learn more about him, get to know his personality and stuff

for now though, i wanted him very neutrally aligned, i didnt want to make him seem evil nor did i want to make him look innocent cause theres no confirmation of either of those things

so his design, hes kinda a demon, hes got priest-inspired religious type clothing though instead of crosses its stars and such cause obviously religion is man made. but i still kinda wanted to dig into that religious trauma type feeling

because religious trauma is often built on the sense of being betrayed - betrayed by higher powers, betrayed by the people who you thought were trustworthy

being told your evil or wrong for something you did, whether its something thats not bad at all or maybe you did do something bad and instead of helping you instead get ostracized and told your spawn of satan

thats the feeling I've gotten from the whole story of jupiter and saturn, these big strong planets who are clearly looked up to as higher power, kicking out and clearly, in the past, seeing this smaller, more vulnerable planet as evil

so thats how i got the design , i built it off the connection of religious trauma

also i was listening to Hells Comin With Me

-

for why I think he was kicked out, I honestly dont know, I cant really come up with anything definitive

ive seen a lot of interpretations, but a lot of them kinda bend space history or make little to no sense so I havent really been able to come up with anything

if I HAD to say something id guess - his existence messed with the gas giants orbits some to the point where it was causing accidental or purposeful damage that left things a little messy

-

I don't think he would be getting back into the solar system, i just dont find that being a canonical move solarballs would do considering hes a theoretical planet

i find it much more likely for Hades to be an occasional character that pops in every now and then, maybe cause a little mischief, drop a space fact

even if the direction they go with Hades is to make him want to come back , I dont believe he will be let back

-

OKAYSHIPS ... more silly thing...

ive mentioned before I like Hades x Neptune, I know a lot of people have seen them as siblings and ifff they do go down that route ill immediately back off from that ship but FOR NOW . WITH NO RELATION CONFIRMATION. i think the idea of Neptune x Hades is cute,, specifically past wise, before Neptune lost his mind and such

ive drawn Uranus x Hades before on request, i have no idea where it came from , but I always think shipping Uranus with others is silly fun cause I get to draw him flustered , so 8/10 for me

i think those are generally the only ships I've encountered with him, i dont actually have any problems with any others though I just dont have any I heavily am die hard for and have actually encountered before

if you drop me Jupiter x Hades id probaly eat it up, I am not hater im a LOVER !!!

[catiuskaa]

[03:36 am] 🍶

WC: 2.3k

CW: nsfw content ahead! use of pet names: sugar, baby, they’re both drunk but its consensual, and I think that’s all, have fun lol

A/N: hannie brain rot due to exam week, fml but let him do it [and hAVE YOU SEEN THE COMEBACK TRAILERS I AM DROOLING FOR THESE MEN]

[☆☆☆☆☆]

You looked around the club, everyone was either drunk, high, or just plain out stoned. Thanks to the rain outside, you were wearing a now wet shirt, so your black laced bra was very clear to see. You walked up to the bartender, asking for a shot of whiskey. You got your drink and watched the big group of people dancing in the centre of the nightclub while others played it cool sitting on the tables at the sides when your eyes locked with a certain someone at a table a bit far from where you were.

Han’s dark eyes locked onto yours, staring intensely, as if a secret was held in them. Three or four people were on his side attempting to grab his attention, from the distance it looked like they were practically begging for it. Since you had it already, you decided to mess with him. You took a quick sip of the shot glass, licking the rim slowly while keeping your eyes on his. You bit your lip softly, then smiled slightly. At this, you could see a little flare in his eyes, his once earnest face turned into a somewhat cocky devilish smirk.

Putting the glass down, without moving your eyes from his, you slowly unbuttoned your shirt, your skin slightly glowy due to how damp the clothes were. You winked at him, to which he laughed as you took the shirt off, tied it around your waist and got up from your seat, leaving the club, feeling his eyes on your every step.

You’ve entered the same bar, walking down the sidewalk a couple of days later after that exciting meeting with him, although nothing had happened. He never ran after you, although you silently hoped he would’ve.

You've tried the old-fashion, vanilla style, and —not to be offensive towards your exes— but it had been a bit… boring? Plain? You didn’t know, for some reason it didn’t feel just right. You decided to switch it up a bit, and even though it was pushing you out of your comfort zone, what could go wrong with a one-night stand?

You continued walking until you were suddenly grabbed from behind, a hand gripping your waist softly yet in a decisive approach.

“Still want to keep playing, Sugar?” A low, somewhat raspy voice said close to your ear. “I’m up for the next level.”

His hand moved you into his chest, your hands lying on him, as you started not-so-subtly touching and feeling up the toned body you stumbled upon.

“Should I say insert a coin, then?” You joked, chin up close to his face so he could hear you over the music that blasted the place, although it wasn’t too bad where you were.

Han sort of laughed, even though he just breathed slightly harder through his nostrils. “I can think of several things to insert in some places, but still... a coin isn’t on the list, baby."

You both could tell each other's dizzy state (a generous way to put it, actually), but truth be told, there was only one outcome of that encounter that could make both of you forget that small detail.

"So, actually..." you started, hands trailing made-up patterns on his chest and shoulders. "Tell me, pretty boy, how do I politely ask you to pin me up against a wall and make out with me?" you giggled.

"I'd say that's a decent start." He laughed, finally closing that stupid distance between his and your lips.

It wasn't cute nor slow or anything you were used to, and probably that's what made goosebumps trail up and down your body. He kissed you like a starved man as if you were the last water source in a heated desert. Hungrily, tongues fighting for dominance in between the hurricanes you felt running through your body.

You bit his lip as you stepped away, a blush clearly not made with makeup.

“Fuck, no, come back,” he whispered.

He directed one of his hands to your chin and pulled you to him in a sudden action.

Yeah, that could easily make you forget about alcohol levels.

[☆☆☆☆☆]

You didn’t know exactly how the situation changed so fast. You had arrived at his house, where he had picked you up and sat you on the first surface he approached. 

“Sugarcube.” He mentioned breathlessly, breaking the kiss. His pupils dilatated, brown almost gone in them, lips red and swollen just because of you. 

You sighed, not knowing when you had stopped breathing. 

"Mhmm?" 

His two fingers started tapping your thighs, in that motion where it looks like they’re walking, closer and closer to the edge of your dress. His other hand held your head up by your cheek. 

“Do I have your consent?” Han asked, and he knew he would’ve respected anything you could answer. “Are you sure?”

Your fuzzy brain from all the drinking and kissing thought about it for a second, all that could come out was a sort of chant in your ears.

Yes, yes, yes.

Instead, you smirked. “Am I ever.” His breath hitched when you grabbed his belt and pulled. “For all I care, ruin me, pretty boy,” you murmured on his lips. 

His eyes looked black now.

“Fuck.” 

He’d kissed you relentlessly as he slowly tempted to take your dress off. You complied, smiling in excitement. He admired your dark-coloured lace, one that made the perfect contrast with your skin tone. 

Mine, mine, mine.

That’s what you can acknowledge so that the moment you are now can make sense. You snorted when he started tying up a blindfold on you. You could only hear, smell, and speak, the latter only when you were allowed to. 

“Here, Sugar.” 

He took your hand and lead your blinded self through his apartment. He started kissing you again, biting, licking, making you feel like Hell’s heat had risen just for your pleasure as he made your entire body feel like you had lava instead of blood. 

Hot, hot, hot.  

He suddenly pushed you with him, making you fall on him, both making out on his bed now. Pinning you down, leaving you to the edge of begging for something, you felt small fabric pieces being tied up to your ankles. You hear nothing for a bit before hearing footsteps and then the squeal that the bed made when he grabbed your calves and pulled you to the border of the bed.

"You've got a lot of nerves, Sugar, doing what you did at the club the other day. No matter how much I fucked all those other bitches, you kept repeating the same thing in my mind. I could kill you for that." Han said, voice dark and deep traced with lust and raw desire.

"Well, if you killed me, we wouldn't be able to have fun, and you would have a dead girl in your mind," you stated with a smirk.

You heard a chuckle and then felt a hand on your cheek.

"Normally, considering your situation, people would start screaming for their lives. But you said something cocky. I like that." He started stroking your body, playing with the laces of your remaining clothes. "For some reason, you still don’t strike me up as someone who would agree to this.” You feel him bending down, trailing open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, clearly avoiding that one spot where both of you knew you need him the most. You shivered, holding back a needy whine. Fuck, you’ve never felt so turned on in your life, you have to try so ridiculously hard to focus on what he’s saying rather than what he’s doing. 

“It’s sexy that you’re letting me do this, but, why are you here?" He whispers above your lips.

You can feel his breath on your skin, practically tasting the flavours of his drink in your mouth already.

"I was bored, and you looked bored," you murmured. “Thought we could change it up a bit for the other one.”

He chuckled. “Damn right, Sugar.” And with that, he kissed you, not gently either. A hard, desperate kiss. You leaned back into the bed.

You couldn’t see it, but in a sudden motion, he pulled from the blindfold and shoved it somewhere else, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you got used to the faint light that came from some other room. His eyes looked into yours as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. His eyes were dark, so dark it was as if they could fuck you themselves.

You feel heat hit you where you're restrained. You tried moving your legs but failed, and he smiled into the kiss, leaning more and more over you. Still, your hands were free, so you wrapped them around his neck, holding him close. He picks you up from your thighs, touching, groping, slapping, shoving you against the bed. You break out of the kiss, lifting your head up, hissing at the amount of sensations hitting you so pleasantly. He takes this opportunity to get your neck. Biting it.

He basically tears off your remaining clothes. You don't pay attention to the accidental scratches he left, in fact, it felt wonderful to you. He smirks at the approving moans you give him when he notices what he did.

You feel like it couldn’t get any better right at the moment when he finds a wonderful place to insert one of his fingers in. 

You bit your lip to keep quiet, just like you’re used to. At this, Han suddenly stops and whispers in your ear.

"No, baby. For tonight at least, you're mine. At the end of this night, I want all of the neighbourhood to know that I fucked a woman so hot. We’re home alone, and you know it already, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, Sugar." And so you do, you let out the largest moan you've ever had in your life.  

No one and I mean no one, no boyfriend, no normal working boy and not even yourself has ever made you feel this good.

He doesn’t acknowledge how the fuck he’s taking off his clothes so quickly, before pinning you back down again. He caresses your sides, as you caress his back, and then his abs. He moves closer to your ear, groaning slightly when you get a hold of him.

"I'm going to eat you alive," he growls.

You chuckle at this, whispering back.

"I'm waiting."

[☆☆☆☆☆]

When you wake up, you feel Han holding you close.

You could swear you passed out. You don't remember how many rounds you had, all you know is that you're sore. You lift the blankets, hissing at the marks you have. Jisung opens his eyes looking at you getting out of bed. You get off the bed slowly, one, because you're in pain, and two, because you like it when he watches you.

"Has anyone fucked you that good?" he asks.

"Actually, I think my ex was a bit better than you," You tease, without looking at him, but you know he can see your smirk —and your weak stance that screams your deception—.

He's quiet for a bit. He sits up a bit looking at you while you pick up your broken panties. You curse under your breath slightly.

"You might want to leave some of your clothes here," he mentions roughly.

You look over your shoulder at him. The smirk is still on your face.

 "Why?"

He looks at you, eyes as intense as they were last night and also gets out of bed just to grab your arm and make you both fall on the mattress as he, in a sudden motion, pins you down.

"I haven't had enough of you yet."

Fuck one-night stands.

You had thee Han Jisung now.

[☆☆☆☆☆]

P.S. Did you notice it? Lil' something for you, Sugar ;)

~Kats, who wrote 3:36 not because of time, but because Red Lights is exactly 3 minutes and 36 seconds.

[beevean]

Honestly what annoys me more about the fandom's reaction to Chaomix is that the main talking points haven't changed. Only the context around them did. It's still "2010 sonic bad" and "sega bad" except now it comes with an addendum of "they bad because they tried to appeal to those reviewers and journos". Which sucks because it would be a legit point on it's own but it's being used as a smokescreen for some to still hate on the games while presenting it like they are defending them.

I will bet everything I have that in a decade the "Meta Era" will gain new appreciation exactly the same way as the "Dark Age".

The Dark Age used to be despised for multiple reasons. It had some objectively flawed games back to back, for sure, but part of the backlash was also due to the Classic fans being the majority of the fandom, being very unhappy with the direction of the franchise. A lot of nowadays beloved Sonic games used to be laughingstocks.

Sonic Heroes? A janky repetitive mess that did not follow up to the masterpiece that was SA2 because it was too kiddy, and we're so tired of Sonic's Shitty Friends.

Shadow the Hedgehog? Not only it was OW THE EDGE, but it was legitimately seen as an affront to everything Sonic stood for, shilling a creator's pet that had long overstayed its welcome.

Sonic '06? One of the worst games of all time. Nearly killed the franchise, and maybe it should have. Buggy and rushed in a way that was unacceptable for an anniversary game and the next gen game. A shitty ass story full of holes with damsels in distress that make out with animal corpses.

Sonic Unleashed? The Werehog was fucking stupid and once again spitting on everything Sonic stood for, and we're so tired of cinematic stories! (yes the complaint that the intro was too long was a real complaint)

Sonic and the Black Knight? Sonic with a sword was fucking stupid. No one cared about the story.

The beginning of the Meta Era was exactly what fans wanted back then. Colors was seen as Sonic's comeback for things like not having an intro cutscene, having a "saturday morning cartoon" story with only Sonic and Tails and none of the Shitty Friends, having Eggman as the final boss instead of yet another monster, and sticking only with the "good" parts of Unleashed. Read its Funny page on TvTropes, and you'll find many of the jokes that nowadays are used as proof that Pontaff were hacks and Flynn was so real for making fun of them both in IDW and in Frontiers. It was seen as Sonic's glorious return because finally, at long last, Sonic was going back to his Classic roots.

But now? Now those same Classic fans grew older and even more disillusioned with the franchise, so they left, and they were replaced by the Adventure fans, now old enough to be heard. Now Heroes is a cute game, with much better level design than shitty games like Forces. ShTH is secretly deeper than people gave it credit for, and Shadow is cool again, and at least characters do stuff, unlike in Forces. Sonic '06 was full of ambition, unlike Forces where they didn't even try. Sonic Unleashed can pretty much compete with SA2 as a masterpiece. SatBK has a wonderful story that truly gets Sonic, unlike Forces where everyone is stupid and lame.

See a pattern?

Hell, even things like Eggman as a final boss is getting backlash now. I've seen people praising Frontiers' The End because of this. Eggman as the final villain got stale again. These are the Adventure fans who grew up with Eggman getting swatted away or teaming up with Sonic, and liking it.

(I'm an Adventure fan too, but funnily enough, Colors was the first game where I ever liked Eggman precisely for keeping him as the main threat lol)

It's a cycle. The 2010s were the era of "the 2000s sucked, we want to go back to the '90s when Sonic used to be good". The 2020s will be, and already are, the era of "the 2010s sucked, we want to go back to the 2000s when Sonic used to be good". I am eagerly waiting for the videos named "Sonic Forces was not that bad, you guys were just mean". It will come. Just like '06 used to be reviled and mocked to death and now it has gained respect, the same will happen to Forces. Just like Forces is now seen as "unserious" and apologetic, the same will happen with Frontiers and its "I'm sorry we sucked, we'll do better next time" tone. Just like Pontaff were seen as a breath of fresh air and now they are seen as the people who ruined Sonic, the same will happen to Flynn. You'll see.

[decepti-thots]

Wayyy back in 2021, a good two years ago now, I wrote a post on a bad brain day that was less actual meta and more just me rambling that was me trying to unpick a specific thing I have a problem with in Dying of the Light as a kind of springboard into my bigger thematic issue with the arc. And I've always wanted to go back and redo it but never gotten around to it. But now I have! That's what this post is! You see what I am doing here.

Right, so. Hear me out here. The crux of it is that I think the turning point of DotL works a lot better in a scenario where Rodimus saves Megatron against his will. (This is a lie, the first thousand words of this are actually just about Rodimus and Megatron's narrative roles, but I swear I will get to the DotL bit.)

Let's back up a bit. One of the things that gets pointed out about the back half of MTMTE a lot is that Rodimus' arc quickly loses a lot of focus, and that this is jarring in a comic that had previously used him for a lot of its forward momentum narratively speaking. Rodimus didn't just get a lot of focus in early MTMTE in the sense of character spotlight, but also in how the same things that drove his "personal" arc drove the wider conflicts in the comic and pushed its overall story forward. That is to say: when Rodimus fucks something up for himself, or fixes something for himself, it has broader impact on the surrounding narrative. Rodimus' low point when the mess with Overlord comes out is also the comic's low point when a bunch of people have died and things reach a nadir. And when Rodimus resolves to change things after Remain in Light, it feels like a similar moment for the entire cast and story as a whole, this sense of "OK, now we're back on an upswing post-finale".

Megatron's introduction to the story massively reduces the degree of symbiosis like that between Rodimus and the story as a whole. Rodimus stops feeling like an ostensible protagonist among the ensemble even when he still gets pretty decent page time. I think the reason why is that a lot of the connections that were previously being drawn between his arc and the overall story progression shift to instead draw those links between Megatron and the direction of the story. Which causes a few issues, but in my opinion the biggest one is: Rodimus' entire character is designed to be a character who works like that. His arc is about understanding that his fuck ups have wide ranging consequences and how to be a leader that does not hide serial killers in the basement that ruin everyone's day. (He's very relatable, isn't he.) If you meaningfully reduce the degree to which his arc drives the broader conflicts of the plot, you can't really... do much with him. Because now, a ton of the page time when things go tits up in a big way gets handed over to Megatron for reasons of pursuing his arc, which also requires he face Big Consequences head on. And page time is scarce! But without Rodimus being the character whose investment in those big stakes is the focus, you don't have those opportunities to drive his character arc forward anymore, and frankly he was way too central for that to ever be anything but awkwardly noticeable as a dangling thread.

And I was scratching my head about why all this was such an issue when this is a comic that can pride itself on narrative efficiency above all else. Listen, MTMTE is really good at having almost everything pull double duty. The first issue is a masterclass in this on its own; every scene is using character dynamics to introduce multiple characters and often multiple relationships at once, foreshadowing is used to drop character notes, interpersonal dynamics are used to lay groundwork for bigger stories that will be told down the line. So the obvious answer to this issue is surely just that you need to incorporate the new character you're finding room for in your story into one of those dynamics.

Which I do think winds up being the issue. The comic never really manages to find a 'hook' for that Megatron-Rodimus dynamic that allows them to both occupy the same narrative space, as it were, where more than one or the other character they and their dynamic are driving the story together. So we wind up with this effect of Rodimus fading into the background of it. The problem seems to me to be that their arcs don't wind up with enough overlap for them to both occupy these story beats together without one of them- overwhelmingly Rodimus- seeming superfluous. The thing is, the arc set out for Megatron can't really be about his interpersonal issues with Rodimus. The scope is too big. You're never going to be able to turn them bickering due to a personality clash into fodder to drive the actual themes of it. Not in a way that feels actually relevant to what's at stake there.

Which means that to make them foils that can function as a tighter and more cohesive narrative unit, so that both of them can take equal billing in the "this is us moving the overarching plot forward" moments, I think the conflict between them needs to be operating on a thematic level. Because in MTMTE, it's... not? Seriously. It feels like it is, because it resembles what that setup looks like in other stories where characters are these ideological foils. But in what way is Rodimus, in MTMTE, a foil to the themes and aims of Megatron's arc? He's, errr. Not someone who has been an evil warlord? He's an Autobot who has... always been an Autobot? His arc just isn't obviously complementary because it's not an arc about redemption, or even really morality at all. (Note that characters don't really talk about Rodimus' fuck up with Overlord as a moral failing, but as a personal one. The moral framework doesn't tend to come into it with Rodimus, because that's not what the story is really interested in exploring with him.)

Which makes sense, because Rodimus' arc wasn't conceived to be a counterpart of Megatron's. And Megatron's wasn't designed around Rodimus. They are two lead characters whose arcs need them to be in very different stories for things to go in a direction that will bring out the beats of their respective arcs. And Megatron's got catchup to do in series two, so Megatron wins out.

But I don't think it actually has to be like that, because there is a way I think you can take the arcs as they're shown to us and intertwine them much more, which is where I can finally circle back around to the question of Dying of the Light.

At that point in the comic, I think you can say that the one really obvious parallel between the two that can be drawn is that (on admittedly different scales) they have both struggled to work out what accountability is supposed to look like. You have Rodimus who has been through the Overlord debacle and then Remain in Light, and you have Megatron who in DotL has the whole thing where he is confronted with just how many people he's killed. Rodimus in RiL especially has a whole thing where he dismisses the idea of dying heroically to make up for his mistakes getting people killed because it's cheap, and this is a defining character moment for him. It frames everything he does going forward and answers the question of "is Rodimus capable of taking actual responsibility", which sets us up for the vote and all that stuff. Rodimus is asked to risk dying to fix things and correctly identifies this as an easy way out and says "no, I'll do one better than that", and the remaining arc we get for him before Megatron's introduction is him dealing with fallout.

Dying of the Light has the scene for Megatron with the spark flowers, and while that scene does not tend to land for me overall, I can acknowledge that it has a really specific purpose: it's the point that Megatron's later attempt to just die with Tarn is calling back to. It explains his change in behaviour. What we've seen of Megatron up to that point suggests him as someone who is trying to make amends in the sense of balancing the scales- yes, he's done bad things, but now he's doing good things, and eventually this will even things out. The flower scene is there because it provides a visual metaphor for the sheer scope of what Megatron did, and importantly it provides that perspective to Megatron. It makes the point that doing this is clearly not possible given what, exactly, Megatron is making amends for. You can't just community service your way out of that graveyard, essentially.

So this allows us to look at Megatron trying to die alongside Tarn in DotL through the lens of him basically being like "there's no way for me to actually fix this, so all I can do is die for it". And this is where we run into the change that I think would allow this to be a point where Rodimus and Megatron's arcs could be tied together by a larger overarching theme: Rodimus thinks that's bullshit. Specifically, he thinks it's cheating. We know he does, because it's what he rejected in Remain in Light.

Rather than frame Rodimus as reaching for Megatron because of his personal investment in him as someone he's now come to care about, and Megatron accepting as a gesture towards accepting that friendship, I'd offer an alternative. Megatron does not accept and Rodimus hauls his ass out of there unwillingly. Not (just) because of their developing relationship, but because Rodimus is articulating an ideological disagreement with Megatron's conclusion; he thinks that Megatron accepting he has to die because there's no point trying to do anything about it is a cheat. Cowards' way out and all that.

This reintroduces Rodimus into the parts of the comic that are now mostly being progressed through Megatron's arc because now all of that is Rodimus' fault. He's the one who decided to save Megatron when he didn't have to, and any further consequences aren't just the consequences of Megatron trying to deal with what he's done and how it continues to impact everyone; they're also the result of Rodimus' decision to save him when he didn't have to. It also means that there's now a clear thematic concept being explored in the space between these two characters and how they differ. What does accountability look like? What does punishment look like? What investment do these characters have in those concepts? These are now disagreements that can not only fuel the panel-to-panel petty conflicts between these two characters, but their actual arcs. You can draw much stronger parallels between them than just 'this one's hotheaded and rash, and this one's not, and they are Bickering', which can drive individual character interactions but not the actual wider ideas the comic wants to engage with.

It opens up a lot of narrative space for these two characters to align their personal arcs in a way that engages what is at this point driving the overall plot forward, and it therefore allows them to both occupy that walking-inciting-incident position as opposed to just being like. Well I Guess Megatron Is The Protagonist Now. Their relationship becomes a central argument about what the comic is about that they can embody and express together, and conflict over whether the right choice was made can push them through the upcoming story beats.

Overall, MTMTE has an issue where it wants Megatron and Rodimus to be foils but can't actually find a place where they are outside the surface level. But they are both characters whose arcs are about being gigantic fuck ups and living with it, so the material like... exists! The text is there if you massage it right! And that's why I think they should have been even more dysfunctional. Megatron would be sooo mad Rodimus ruined his big death scene, and if nothing else, can we all please agree that would have been really funny.

[lavenderobject58]

#2: What Was I Just Thinking? by Kuwabara Tamotsu

[Content warning: violence, blood]

toxic yuri am i right ahaha If you've heard of Kuwabara Tamotsu, its likely from his manga Destroy It All and Love Me in Hell!, an ongoing series popular among some of my edgiest lesbian friends. It's a great manga, and I'll probably end up writing about that manga at some point or another, but that's not what this post is about. Instead, I'm writing about Kuwabara's 2020 oneshot What Was I Just Thinking?, a manga that covers similar themes of love, sex, and violence, but with a different perspective and tone. In it, Makabe, the protagonist, struggles with her violent intrusive thoughts directed towards her friend Hoshizaki. After the latter reveals that she's actually a masochist, the two go back to her apartment and get sadomasochistic. It's a little cute, actually, even if the way it goes down is pretty fucked up on Makabe's part.

Kuwabara Tamotsu seems to really love taking these stressed-out, high-strung characters and giving them super unhealthy - usually violent - release valves. Obviously, there's a little more complexity to this specific situation than just that but it's essentially the core of Makabe's arc. The way we see her thought processes play out over the course of the manga paints this really fascinating picture of a woman who's so terrified of her own desires that when she finally lets them out she has no idea where - or even how - to stop. Classic yuri stuff, really. There are a few different ways you can interpret the dynamics at play outside of that, though. One of the things that for me really adds a layer of nuance to the relationship for me is how intentional Hoshizaki is about drawing certain reactions out of Makabe. There is obviously a huge difference between fucking with someone just to see what they're like when they're upset - which is just obnoxious friend behavior - and smacking the shit out of someone out of nowhere - which is assault - but the underlying motivations of both characters share some similarities, Hoshizaki is just a tad more subtle about it. And then there's that moment near the end, where Hoshizaki starts playing with Makabe's bruised hand in order to see what she looks like when she's in pain. There's a disparity in how much respect for boundaries each character has, and that's an important part of their dynamic, but I really like the way Hoshizaki isn't just a receptacle for Makabe's weird hangups. One might even say she "matches her freak".

There's also the fact that Makabe is a wimp. I think this is an important part of her character - she seems to have a bit of a complex about it, as we can see when she gets all defensive about having played ping pong in school, compared to the more athletic Hoshizaki. The fact that Hoshizaki seems more concerned about her hair being messed up than the bruising all over her face while Makabe's hands hurt so bad she can't even hold a cigarette is still kind of cute, and it makes her desires and motivations feel a lot more real.

Another fact of the matter is that these two women really are in love with each other. There are enough longing glances and flushed cheeks throughout the manga that we can be sure of that, and it's really not, like, normal friend stuff to want to hurt your bestie in order to understand her better. One really would hope that these two don't go on to build a relationship based off what they've established here, but come on. Look at them.

So what I find really interesting about this manga is that it's definitely toxic yuri, but it's presented in such a complex and sympathetic way that it almost makes you want to forget that fact? Like, obviously there's this big overarching layer of straight-up violence on the surface. And once you get to the core of the story it's about two characters nurturing a really unhealthy dynamic that's not going to take them anywhere good. But in between those two levels, there's this real sense of passion and romance and emotion that undercuts what would otherwise just be a total downer of a manga and turns it into something that's actually really cute, even while it maintains this sense of tension and fear and desperation that keeps you from getting too comfortable. It's also just really hot. If that all sounds good to you, you should read this comic (which I'll link below). You should also read Destroy It All and Love Me in Hell!, but more on that eventually. Probably. I'm still kind of figuring out what I want this blog to be, so no promises on anything, but you'll probably be seeing more of me throughout the week. Hope you all have a lovely Tuesday :)

[fandomregression]

Hi! I saw TMA as one of the fandoms that you do (and ngl I’m a little embarrassed to ask this), but would you do Cg!Elias hcs? (I know he’s Evil but I am very small and very weak)

no need to be embarrassed, dear!! i love elias sm hes so evil but he's Nice in a way

CG Elias Bouchard Headcanons!

elias is the type who didn't really think about caregiving until it was just. presented to him. he does okay with kids, but to be honest he's never really been one for the messes they make

but with a regressor, he's just charmed by them. their little habits, babbles, and laughs make his heart soar, and when they cry it rips his heart out.

elias has...so many fancy things for his regressor to play with. fancy crayons, sketchbooks instead of computer paper, the newest montessori-like toys he can find, all that stuff. he also has the softest blankies, tons of cute clothes, and the Best snacks

he's a bit of a workaholic when it comes to the institute, so often his regressor is playing on the sofa in his office while he works, and when he takes breaks it's just watch the little one for a few minutes

not the best with direct comfort, but he does (of course) know how to identify what's wrong very quickly, and he can usually resolve the issue. regressor crying over a bad day because they had a fight with someone? yknow, elias has this pipe he found-

kidding, kidding! (mostly)

elias is very weak to little ones, and since he has the means to get them whatever they want, he gets them whatever they want. he buys...SO MANY build a bears...

i'm picturing him playing peak-a-boo and its the cutest thing too

lets his regressor sometimes just sit on his lap while he's working. he regrets this decision every time being now there's curious fingers all over his keyboard typing so many things and hitting so many keys and he's already not the best with computers oh no-

elias would be the type to like being called papa, i feel it in my bones

he would also let his regressor give him makeovers. he now is covered in lipstick where the regressor used it like a marker all over his face

he really hopes he hasn't forgotten about any meetings, because he just can't say no to his little one