#just wanted to say this out loud

[demonvibez]

Can we please finally talk about the fact that Luci's excuse [pre-season 16 of OG] for "Where tf is Belphegor" was flimsy af?

Like...yeah, okay, Belphegor hated humans and wanted to end the exchange program before it started, but like...

Lucifer's lie of "so I sent him to the human realm to teach him a lesson" was such a half assed lie, like... What?!?! Sleepy Baby is over here talking about vanquishing humanity from existence, and Luci's cover story (for when he locks him in the attic) is "I sent him to live with the humans"

excuse me, wHAT?!?! SUCH AN OBVIOUS LIE, MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

[[...and the fact his brothers only believed such a stupid obvious fuckin lie bc they would follow Lucifer into the dark...]]

[figuringthengsout]

Andrew needing approval of his relationship from Aaron and Aaron demanding recognition of his relationship from Andrew. Andrew planning his kill for Aaron and Aaron killing on instinct for Andrew. Andrew killing Aaron's abusive mother figure, but putting up with abuse to keep his own mother figure. Andrew forcing Aaron through withdrawal and Aaron being forced to see Andrew drugged up all the time. Andrew sacrificing himself over and over again because if he can't be loved he will be needed and Aaron asking him over and over again to just be brothers. Andrew not trusting Aaron with his own self, but not showing enough of himself to convince Aaron to trust him.

[silcobrainrot]

ngl I'm disappointed that Jinx and Vi's interaction in the mines didn't include even just a brief confirmation from Jinx that Silco was like a father to her and wasn't abusing her. That conversation didn't happen at the dinner scene, Vi was still under the impression there that Silco had been cruel to her. I think it would have been on theme for the episode. Jinx smells his old jacket, can she have just one line to say "hey, he never hurt me, he actually cared about me, and I cared about him too." Doesn't have to be a whole conversation, just let her say it out loud.

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when Wilson says House's name

[balfeys]

#same Siuan same😭💔

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about price putting his hat on the boys' heads

cw war guilt, self harm through working out

it's only happened once or twice with each of them, only when they're on the brink and safe enough for price to let himself soften

🧼

the first time it happens to soap is on his first demo mission as a corporal; the first time he's been in charge of the planning the rig and the first time he’s close enough to see the human fallout of the explosion he worked so hard on and realises how often it means a slow and messy death

he knows they're the enemy; knows if it wasn't them, it would be him, then the long line of civilians at his back that he stands so strong to protect. he knows that

but that doesn't stop the screaming echoing in his mind, doesn't rid the memory of burning bodies trying to crawl away from their signed deaths

signed by him

he's sitting on the concrete outside the barracks, trying to get the cold to leech the remnants of the fire from his blood that his ice cold shower couldn’t douse. he jumps at the feel of a leg pressing against his side and looks up at price as he leans back against the wall, his hands cupped around a cigarette

soap flinches at the sparks coming from his lighter and looks away, his knees creeping up tighter to his chest

"it gets easier," price rumbles above him, exhaling a long breath and the comforting acrid scent of smoke spills around him

he shifts uneasily and pretends it's not to get closer. "i don't think that makes me feel better, sir,” he admits

"never said it would," he shrugs with the ease of a man who's had this same conversation a hundred times and will have it a hundred more. "just that it does."

soap sniffles then growls at himself, harshly scraping his wrist over his face

a light weight drops on his head and he stifles a gasp as price's hat falls low over his reddened eyes, hiding him from the prying gaze of the world

"you'll be alright, son," he promises and soap's lips tremble. he presses them tight together and follows price's hand as he guides his face into the side of his knee, cupping his jaw and holding him close as he shakes apart

"you'll be alright."

🧢

gaz doesn't crave softness when he messes up; doesn't want forgiveness or assurance. he wants blood; blood shed for blood that shouldn't have been lost

the punching bag is shining by the time price walks into the gym; shining yet also muted where his blood’s had the time to dry and stain, his knuckles torn to shreds

gaz' fist almost slips off the bag and he clicks his tongue. "you gonna keep makin' that a biohazard or do you want to do something actually worthwhile?"

his lip kicks up in a snarl and he sends a glare over his shoulder. "what?"

"think medical's got enough bodies, don't you?" he asks and a dangerous stillness fills the air

gaz shoves off the bag, knuckles dripping onto the mats. "you wanna add one more?"

price quirks an eyebrow, so nonchalant that it just makes him angrier; blood boiling in his veins. "come on, then."

he stalks onto the sparring mats and price barely blinks before he's attacking; throwing wild punches, eyes a hundred miles away

back in beirut

where they had to pull their team out in pieces because gaz missed the suicide bomber launching himself out of the rubble

price dodges each desperate strike, loose and sloppy and nowhere near gaz’ usual level of skill. he doesn't hit back once and gaz' faces twists with each miss, sweat flying off him as his grunts turn into growls, turn into screams as he throws himself at him

price ducks and snatches his hat off his head, slapping it into gaz' face to blind him and drives him back into the mats

he gags as his lungs seize, his air is forced out of him; leaving him to heave harsh breaths that stick in the fabric of the hat. the humid dark closes in on him, forcing him to focus on his breaths so he doesn't throw up or pass out; forcing him to stay within his body instead of drowning in another country

price's hand is heavy behind it, keeping it trapped over his face. "are you done?" he asks, not even breathless

gaz pants, his whole body tingling, and his fingers dig harder into his face

"are you done?" he insists

he swallows dry, suddenly aware of the exhaustion sapping at his limbs, the pain in his hands, the tightness in his throat. "i'm done," he rasps

price relaxes but doesn't remove his hand or push him to get up. they sit on the mats for a while, price's weight and the dark anchoring gaz to the here and now

💀

contrary to popular belief, ghost doesn't hate family days

he doesn't glare at the droves of civilians entering the base, doesn't stand as a spectre of death and grief over the rookies running into the arms of their families on one of the most important days of their career. he doesn't begrudge the safety and love they feel from coddling mothers and embarrassingly proud fathers, from laughing siblings and sticky-fingered children

he remembers his own graduation too well to want to take it from them

he stands in his dress blues through the speeches, his neck gaiter hiding less than he'd like but at ease with the compromise he and price reached. he looks over the tearful family members as name after name gets called, takes careful note of the ones who are clapped for less than the others, and lines up with the other officers as they wait for the tap out

one by one, the graduates get released by their loved ones; no longer standing attention as a recruit but embracing them as a private

just as he's done every year, ghost checked their records to ensure they all had someone coming for them; he's never let a single one stand in the field waiting for someone who will never come. it's rare that his diligence is necessary but he's never let them feel any shame for it; telling them to keep their heads high as he pats their shoulder

he's not needed today and he watches as they're slowly released and disperse, all with a reminder of why they've worked so hard and who they’re here to protect

it's quiet on base that night; soldiers take any chance to celebrate and a graduation is nothing to sneeze at. ghost stands out in the field, out in the gentle quiet. his hands sit folded behind him as he looks up at the stars and he doesn't flinch as a voice sounds behind him

"been a long time since you could be called a rookie," price says, falling into place beside him

ghost hums. "longer for you, i’d say."

he huffs a laugh. "cheeky shite," he snickers. "that hasn't changed; bloody twig of a thing too big for his boots, angry at the world and ready to prove it wrong."

"plenty changed to make up for it," he huffs, his breath disturbing his gaiter

"lot more's stayed the same," price counters and steps in front of him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he squares his shoulders

"lieutenant riley," he starts and ghost almost rolls his eyes. "you've shown exemplary courage in the face of adversity, gone above and beyond the call of duty and expressed great leadership in your dedication to your team and the men in your charge. congratulations, soldier; you've earned it."

ghost swallows thickly and refuses to admit to the shine threatening his eyes. "thank you, sir."

price smiles and plucks his hat off his head, placing it on his and pats his head; brushing his thumb over his temple

"come on, son; you've waited long enough."

[sergle]

i have to say, i'm glad i crashed out publicly instead of internally, because i occasionally get an ask being like "bro please don't die, I like you" and unironically that does actually help

[starry-bi-sky]

what if i wrote a “shen yuan transmigrates into a wife” oneshot but the whole premise is based on the song “gone, i’m gone�� from hadestown and its overall theme is wanderlust and freedom and it starts out as Shen Yuan settling into life in the palace and trying to avoid harem drama and thinking he can just live with his head down for the rest of his new life, only to be hit with a sudden intense yearning to explore his new world the likes he’s never felt before. What if he was sickly in his last life. What if he spent his entire last life indoors. Trapped between four walls. What if love is not a gilded cage. What if he begins clawing at the walls of his enclosure, desperate to escape because he wants to live, god please let him live. He can’t do this again. What if he spent months preparing for his escape and in that same breath getting the attention of some of the other wives around him because he has changed and it makes them wary. what if he got binghe’s attention as he is wont to do. What if he left. What if Shen Yuan was born with a bottomless pit in his stomach and a gaping maw in his chest. What if he was starving. What if he was starving for the world around him. What if i wrote that. What then

[teyrnacousland]

I've seen the headcanon that Lucanis' mother, Caterina's perfect heir, was actually similar to Illario in some ways. That she was calculating, ruthless, ambitious, obedient... all the things Caterina overlooks in Illario because Caterina sees her favourite daughter's deep brown eyes and quiet, controlled demeanor and careful planning in Lucanis.

But I am also attached to the idea that the opposite is true too. That Illario's mother shared similarities with Lucanis; that she was empathetic and stubborn, with a slight rebellious streak. But she was always outgoing and charming, was more impulsive with her emotions, and was always sharper with her tongue than with a sword, so Caterina only sees her in Illario.

I just love the idea that Caterina can't look beyond the surface and see who her grandsons really are because on some level she can't see past the ghosts reflected in their eyes. She can't see that the quiet brown eyed boy is is more of the gentle hearted rebel, and the one with blue eyes and a shining, fake smile is the ruthless leader who would do anything she asked.

[cali]

a lolcow is obviously a bad and harmful thing but studying weird people online is a wonderful and soul enriching experience. but if u treat the fun of it as a product and engage with them to get more of this product, if youre "milking" the "lolcow", youre fucked. youre going down the path of darkness. it needs to be aetherial and loose. the better alternative is looking at lolbirds instead which is quite beautiful cuz, like birdwatching, its a process where u do not enact power and force over ur subject to make it show u what u want, you just let them naturally come by and show off their plumage (10000 near identically composed deviantart illustrations of different kids show character crying while getting knead into dough and baked[this happened in a single episode of a show the artist saw when they were 4]) and then u maybe show some of ur favorite feathers of theirs to your close group of friends and then let them pass on with the wind and u keep them as a sweet memory ❤

[sketchehm]

Serpias wins ez

[bunnyboy-juice]

what a wonderful day to be a dyke ❤️‍🔥

[majubengel]

[majorxmaggiexboy]

okay but 100% Dream can do that Gandalf “do not take me for some conjuror of cheap tricks” thing like at some point it’s Hob who’s late for one of their meetings and it’s getting dark and Dream’s starting to feel like his chest is a pit of snakes, which is not something he’s prepared to think about or address, so he’s stepped outside for a bit to debate the appropriate wait time (flee immediately and potentially miss next meeting bc he’s convinced this is Hob’s way of calling the whole thing off, or stay there for a minimum thirty some odd years just in case this is some form of payback) so he’s waiting outside this pub just fully skulking in the dark and some generic creeps start heckling a little, at first he just sneeringly ignores them but as we know 85% of his emotions manifest as severe annoyance, disdain, and righteous indignation so he starts getting snippy and they do not take the hint

so they approach and are getting pretty adamantly flirty until Dream (who has decided the best strategy may be to pop in on alternating years just to see if Hob shows up or perhaps send out some investigatory ravens and he doesn’t think Hob is likely to be imprisoned in a sphere but not all prisons are in fact fishtanks so it couldn’t hurt to check) escalates to proper ticked off and the shadows start converging from the surrounding area to puff up around and behind him like an especially stormy eldritch peacock and he’s actually turned into a shadow himself apart from the pinpoint star eyes and holy shit was he that tall before and where tf are these shadow tendrils coming from and his voice is coming from like forty different directions in full YOU DARE

meanwhile Hob (whose train was late, who’s been on a series of mild misadventures today and knew all too well the potential ramifications of being late (“oh absolutely he’ll be distraught furious. No doubt.”) has just come skidding round the corner (he was not in a full sprint at this point or anything, not at all) just in time to see what looks like two blokes about to get eviscerated by this seven foot swirling void of starstuff and fury

Hob experiences a full and thriving range of emotions when witnessing this, including at least two levels of Concern but also, well

it takes a bit to get Dream’s attention and a bit longer for Dream to return all the shadows whence they came (some have to just be stuffed back into his coat like an unwieldy litter of kittens, it’s fine) but all in all things proceed as normal

(Hob refrains from Asking about the whole cosmic horror and shapeshifting possibilities thing just yet because his friend is nothing if not an easily startled stray possum and he’d rather not stir up any hissing, best save it for a meeting not preceded by a break in routine)

(Dream brings it up himself about forty minutes in, all, “You’ll have. Questions.” Which Hob denies, carefully casual, until before Dream has even finished asking “You’re certain?” Hob is in fact gleefully rattling off a list of Questions)

[likeawildanimal]

who’s ready for jean and cody’s joint birthday party in tsc3!!!! can’t get it off my mind since cat brought it up in tgr. the potential is endless for that day

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.