#ooc: YOURE CRINGE

[workin-boys-official]

you and your boyfriends were kinda like the beatles

(max you don’t know me at all wdym)

I would consider us more like Queen.. however, I do see the resemblance.

[toffeesbabbles]

entirely self indulgent empty duo doodle

based loosely off the swap clothes drawing found here

[helaelaemond]

Dragons Abroad - Aemond x lover!reader

Rating: Universal

Category: Angst

Pairing: Aemond x you

Set prior to Rook's Rest

Words: 1k

"There are dragons abroad."

You look at him. Across the table you sit from him and watch him. Around you, he is bare. No shirt, no breeches, no eye patch. Falsehoods gone, inhibitions left at the door. Yet his gaze avoids yours now. "So there are."

His voice is a quiet mumble. "I must go to meet them."

"I think that is not true," you reply. You look down at your hands and try not to pick at the skin around your fingers. Scabs make it sore already.

"I wish to meet them."

"That is true," comes your soft reply.

"And our time together is ended."

"Another falsehood." The words are confident, despite the ice in your chest. Frosted steel has pierced you between your ribs and into your very heart.

Aemond glances up. His fingers drum lightly on the wooden table. So many meals you shared with him here in the sanctity of his rooms. "I cannot take you with me."

"I never asked you to. I only ask that you come home to me."

"That, I cannot promise."

"Then promise what you can."

He opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. He retreats into his comfortable silence. Prince Aemond leans into you when you stand and cradle him into you. He wraps his arm around your back and presses his face into your stomach as he sits in his chair and you stand at his side. The touch against his hair is welcomed, and he leans into your hand when you run it down his scarred cheek.

"I can promise nothing," he murmurs after a long time.

'You can promise to come home to me."

"I might not return. If I do, I do not know what will be left."

"I'll take whatever there is."

Aemond sighs your name and you go to pull away, but his strong arm around you does not loosen. And so you allow yourself to stroke his hair again. Part of him melts against you. The blade in your heart does not warm.

"I will destroy my enemies out there. I will paint the skies with fire and blood and-"

"That is all very noble," you interrupt softly. "But it will not make you whole."

You look down at him and see his face twitch. "I'm not a knight from one of your stories. I will not be the gallant hero you so desire."

It happens without you thinking, really. You sink to your knees in front of him. It would be folly to think it would make him smile this time, like it so often does. A place of worship before him. Now a place to beg. "I don't want a knight on his horse to come and save me. I just want you. As you are. Please."

"Do not beg."

"Please, Aemond, please don't make this the end, pl-"

"This is not becoming of a-"

"Please. Please, please." Your voice is steady but you can feel your throat beginning to close. "I am good for you."

And the fierce, stoic, hard Prince Aemond looks at you on your knees, utterly soft and warm, and his brow creases. "You are," he replies, oh so gently.

"I make you feel good."

He nods, head tilted to the side. "You do."

"I make you happy."

And he nods again. "I will not destroy you. I must leave you."

You lean up and try to kiss him, but he turns so you catch his cheek. It is only then that you realise your hands and his are grasped tightly. They have come out in a cold sweat. Strange, you think. He is never clammy.

You press your forehead to his temple. Some of your tears fall onto his pale cheek. "If you leave me, I will be destroyed. I can weather any storm but this."

You feel his jaw clench. A thousand words fall silent on his lips.

"Please."

Suddenly, his hands wrench from yours and then you feel them, strong and damp, on either side of your head. Your eyes open as he pulls you closer, closer, and you think yes! Yes, he understands! He will leave but come back to me! Yes-!

But your lips are not granted a kiss. Instead, a long kiss is pressed to your forehead. It is tight and hard and full of agony. It is farewell.

After it is ended, he has little left to say.

"I will wait for you, you know."

He watches while you move back to the other side of the table, while you smile sadly at him.

"If you want me to."

"I do not."

But his denial is not one that makes you sad. For anyone else, he might be cruel. But for you, he cannot bring himself to do that. There is only honesty between you, both kind and cutting.

"Do you wish to be with me?" you ask one final time.

Aemond cannot lie to you. Not after all the beauty you have shared, not after all the ways you have grown to know one another. Not after all the true and deep love between you. "I do," he says slowly. "More than almost anything."

"What do you wish for more than that?"

He sighs quietly. "To keep you safe."

"To force me to be free will not keep me safe from anything."

"It will" he insists gently. "You shall be safe from me."

Despite the agony in you, you can still force a smile. For him, always for him. "That is not safety. That is a fate worse than death."

"Worse than what I could be?"

"Worse than you could ever become. The worst you could be, Aemond, is gone."

[forever-sirius]

The Room of Requirement really pulled out all the stops for us tonight: a cozy little hideaway with flickering candles, a roaring fireplace, and the best part- a plush sofa that looked perfect for two. 

Remus settled beside me, and I didn’t waste a second before pouring us a glass of firewhiskey. 

I’d planned this night out to a T, and if I knew anything, it was how to charm Remus Lupin.

I held up my glass with a wink. “To us- two stars in the same constellation, burning bright together.”

He rolled his eyes, trying to act unimpressed, but I could see that hint of a smile. 

“Very poetic, Padfoot,” he said, taking a sip, “but I think the firewhiskey might be more persuasive than your lines.”

I clutched my chest, putting on my best brokenhearted look. “Oh, Moony, you wound me. But anyways, if you were a Dementor, I’d become a criminal just to get your kiss.”

That earned me a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” I draped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in closer. “Are you my homework? Because I could do you all night.” 

Smooth, right?

He just laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re absolutely incorrigible, you know that?”

“Only for you, love.” I flashed him my best grin. “Are you a fruit? Because you’re the apple of my eye.”

And there it was- his cheeks went pink, and I had to bite back a triumphant laugh. 

“Is this whole setup just so you could hit me with every pick-up line you know?” he asked, pretending to be unimpressed.

“Maybe.” I shrugged, not even attempting to look innocent. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is it?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Yeah, Moony. Because you’re still here, laughing with me. And you looove me~”

He smiled cheesily- what a sap.“Yes, I do.”

He finally closed the tiny gap between us, leaning in as I pulled him towards me.

Remus’s lips were a bit chapped, but they tasted wonderful; like cigarettes and chocolate and a hint of caramel, like always. There was a hint of firewhiskey, but that was just because we had been drinking.

“I love you, Sirius,” he murmured against my lips. “I’ll love you until the day we are but dust.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back. “Always.”

@staginthestars are you happy now???

@werewolf-of-wales @marybabee @ratten-junge @f1rstw0man-ev3r @emmelineyourgirl pookies do we like??

[moon-blanket]

A silly little Blurb about early Freelancer and Gavin :)

[Read on ao3]

Gavin was not made for mornings like this.

He was made for the darkness of night. Neon lights of dingy bars, hidden corners of alleyways, and messy, heated nights in pitch black bedrooms. Quick fixes to scratch the itches of mortals, easy supplements of emotion he needs to survive another night– always a means to an end.

Sure, the awkward morning-after was a custom he was more than familiar with. Sneaking out before his bedmate of the hour ever woke up had become a well-practiced art by now. Sometimes he even had the uncomfortable pleasure of seeing them off for the day, parting ways as he begins looking for another meal. Another way to get by.

It's never been anything like today.

The Freelancer sleeps peacefully at his side. It's their first true day off in what has felt like the eons they've had this routine together. With no work or classes to scramble off to today, they've given themself the gift of sleeping in.

It's a shame that he couldn't partake as well, but in this moment he can't find the means to care.

They've twisted themselves into a position that he thinks cannot possibly be comfortable. Half on their stomach, half on their back– facing him with the most serene expression he's ever had the pleasure of witnessing grace their face.

They're beautiful like this.

His eyes follow the outline of the parts of their body left exposed by the covers they've neglected in their sleep. The rise and fall of their back as they slowly breathe, the dark spots that bloom across their skin from their late night tryst, their hair wildly splayed against their pillow and draping delicately in their face.

Sunlight streams through the window, the morning light hits their frame so perfectly, the curves and angles of their body practically glowing in the warmth of the sun. He thinks he finally understands the meaning of true worship.

Gavin does not know much of human religion, not enough to know who to properly thank– but he will gladly give the proper kudos to every god, every sovereign in the stars, that guided him to his Freelancer.

His Freelancer...

There's a pang in his chest he's unfamiliar with when the thought passes through his mind. It's a little frightening.

He doesn't know how long he stays there and admires them. Eventually he watches as their body awakens, their eyes open to reveal the prettiest color he's ever seen.

When they gain their bearings, recognizing his form as he lays beside them, they flash a sleepy smile as another pang courses through his non-existent heart. One that he begins to welcome as they move to cuddle into him.

He's starting to believe that he could learn to love mornings as long as His Freelancer is beside him.

Thank you for reading. :3

[silhouette-system]

Regrets and Lost Love.

Vox climbed over fallen rocks and bricks. He had come here to gloat over his nemesis, but this was getting ridiculous. 

“The things I do…” He grumbles. 

He brushes some dirt off his pants, and pulls himself up to the ruined radio tower. The ladder is a little rickety, but it’s usable. 

“Alastor?” He calls out. “Are you up here?” 

Nothing answers Vox. He sighs loudly. “You can’t hide! You fucking loser!”

A pained groan sounds from behind him. Vox whips around to see Alastor, huddled in a corner with his arms clutched around his chest. 

“Alastor?!” Vox kneels next to the demon. 

Alastor hisses at him as his ears pin back. “What are you doing here, Vox-“ His voice sounded odd without the radio filter, “-come to gloat?”

Vox hesitated for just a second- but that was more than enough for Alastor to catch on. 

Alastor starts to chuckle, then cackle, but he’s cut off by a wet cough. Blood drips from his mouth and his sclera bleeds black. 

“…Al?” Vox says. “Wait-“

Vox sighs frustratedly and scribbles out his words. The bar where he sat was dimly lit, and his seat was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Alastor, humming softly, was sitting on the couch and twirling his staff that Vox had commissioned from Rosie a few weeks ago. 

“Would you like to dance?” Alastor asks out of nowhere. 

“I- what?” Vox looks up from his work. 

Alastor snaps his fingers, and soft music plays from the candy apple red radio. “Would you like to dance?” He repeats. 

Vox fights down a blush. “I-I don’t know how to,” The demon admits. 

Alastor hums. “That’s alright, I can teach you.” He offers a hand to Vox, who accepts. 

Alastor guides one of Vox’s hands to his waist. Alastor puts his hand up on Vox’s shoulder. The tv demon, knowing this part, clasps their hands together. 

“Uh…what do we do now…?” Vox asks. 

“Step to the left,” Alastor instructs. “Then, cross your right foot over it.”

Vox focuses on Alastor’s feet and matches the steps. 

“Once more.”

Alastor’s ears flick against the screen of Vox’s head. “Okay, now reverse.”

Eventually, Vox gets the hang of it. They step in time to the music, and Vox leads them in a slow circle. 

…Two hearts connected by one beat…

…Your hand in mine and…

Sweet guitar fills the room. Alastor leans his head on Vox’s chest and moves his hands so they cup the back of Vox’s neck. Vox cradles the smaller demon in his arms. 

“I could never choose to love another…” Vox softly sings the closing lines of the song. 

“Maybe one day I could’ve learned to love you too.” Alastor smiles, a real smile. Vox had learned to tell the difference a long time ago. Alastor’s real smile was soft. It wasn’t like the pasted-on grin the world saw. 

“No, no, no! Please!” Vox pleads, but he knows it is far too late. 

The light faded from his love’s eyes and Alastor slumped against the wall. His lifeless eyes stared past Vox, and the hand Vox held fell limp. 

Vox sobs, the mockery of tears filling his screen. “Please…” He cries, to no avail. There is no one to hear his words. 

Vox’s heart shatters into a million shards of blood and tears and glass. He mourns for the love he almost had, for the loss of the person closest to his heart, for his one true constant in this hellscape. 

He gently closes Alastor’s eyes. Now it seems as though the demon is just sleeping- no. Alastor never looked this peaceful when he slept. 

Vox slides his arms underneath Alastor’s cooling body and stands. He teleports out of the ruined tower and walks through the rubble to the Morningstars and their friends. The princess is hugging her girlfriend while the porn star and the cat share a hug as well. Lucifer stands to the side. 

Charlie- that’s her name right?- turns around and spots Vox. 

“Vox?!” She stands in front of him, looking lost as she stares at Alastor’s bloodied body. “Wh…what happened? Did you do this?”

Vox shakes his head frantically. “I-I would never! He was in his tower…I guess Adam hit him harder than we thought. He…he bled out.”

Tears gather at the edges of Charlie’s eyes. “No…”

Vaggie runs to her girlfriend’s side. “Charlie- oh…”

One by one, the group gathers around Vox and Alastor. Charlie hides her face in Vaggie’s arms. Husker looks conflicted while Nifty full-on sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” Vox says. 

“What were his last words?” Charlie asks softly. 

“I couldn’t hear what he said,” Vox lies. “He was…coughing up a lot of blood.”

Charlie cries harder, soaking Vaggie’s shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~

The dark red coffin is slowly lowered into the ground with Lucifer’s magic. Charlie sniffles softly, and even Angel has to turn away. 

Vox stands a little separate from the group and watches Lucifer use his magic to fill the grave with dirt. 

Slowly, the other members leave the small courtyard, with Vaggie leading her girlfriend away, and Husk scooping up Nifty and leaving with Angel. Eventually, only Lucifer and Vox are left at the grave’s side. 

Lucifer slips by Vox with a low whisper of, “Don’t stay for too long. It’ll hurt more.”

Vox doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at the tombstone. 

It was carved out of granite to look like an old radio.

Alastor 

“I could never choose to love another; maybe one day I could learn to love you too.” - We Become We

Vox had chosen the inscription himself, though it took many tries to get a readable version. 

He knelt by the grave. 

“Hey.” God, he sounded so stupid. But this was the only way to get closure. He would never find closure. It hurt too much. “I miss you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He placed the broken staff and a few flowers. A pink carnation, a cyclamen, a purple hyacinth, and a sprig of rosemary. 

Vox stands and brushes off his coat. He stares down at the freshly turned dirt and flowers. 

“I love you,” He whispers. “I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~

[captainseamech]

//Finally. Some good yaoi in E.questria smh

I saw this cute base and I couldn’t help myself but do my favorite boys in there!! Admittedly I completely forgot how to make base edits so cut me some slack if this looks terrible SHDBDMKDKD

The red pony is Heatwave ( @faultfindingfirebot ) and obviously the big blue one is High Tide! Both designs are mine btw <3 beating past self for making HTs mane so difficult smh

[illusionarylibrary]

𝓕𝓲𝓵𝓲 & 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓕𝓾𝓻𝔂!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

CW: OOC(?)

-◦○◦━◦○◦━ ~●○°●○°●○~ ━◦○◦━◦○◦-

- Stories of dragons weren’t uncommon in Middle Earth and one particular story told of a dragon with scales black as a moonless night.

- However, none of these stories were consistent. Some say the dragon was as big as a mountain while others described it as small as a dog. The dragon had four wings, no, it had two but only hind legs! It had a purple fire, not true, that was just the lightning it could conjure…each detail was different except for the fact that the worst time it could strike was at night.

- Thus the beast was named the Night Fury, for when it attacked all hell would break loose.

- This beast brought storms and thunder, angering the skies and lighting up the clouds with lightning.

- This beast was you.

- You had eyes that were glimmering emeralds, holding a fierce and wild stare. Only two wings and four legs, with splittable spines for better flight. You were around the size of a large horse with a round head and six nubby ears.

- It was true, what the stories told of you hunting during the night, but you only ever attacked villages and kingdoms for food. It wasn’t fair, after all, that the creatures of the ground hogged all the food.

- So it was reasonable that you’d take your share of whatever it was you wanted to eat! You never emptied an entire stock, but you were still a dragon so you had to eat more than a normal creature.

- You also had to deal with that stupid wyvern that occupied the one lonely mountain. He was always stingy about you hunting in his territory, so just to avoid his nagging and annoying being, you stayed out of the way.

- It was one night you had found a group of small looking humans, dwarves or dwarrow of you knew them, a tinier person, and a man that reeked of magic. Some were by a campfire while others were living about doing whatever.

- Deciding you wanted to know what they were doing, seeing two of them were located by some ponies, you sneakily landed behind one of the dwarves and waited for him to discover you.

- The dwarf was on the taller side and had dirty blond hair. You could smell the many metal weapons on his being as he turned around and spotted you.

- Fili was trying to find his brother at the moment, who had probably wandered off, when he looked back. Two large and dilated eyes stared right back as the dwarf couldn’t tell what this creature was. He had slowly reached towards his sword before hearing the beast growl at his motion.

- You didn’t take too kindly towards aggression as a first impression, but you didn’t want to just fight the dwarf.

- Fili halted before going back to his previously relaxed, now somewhat stiff, posture. He looked utterly confused as to what the beast was, considering the moonlight couldn’t reach the forest floor and it hid in the shadows.

- You sensed the dwarf was a bit disoriented and didn’t make a move yet. Your pupils enlarged as you were relaxing, feeling that the dwarf wasn’t going to mindlessly attack you, unlike some other humans have done in your previous encounters.

- Fili tilted his head right before his eyes grew wide as saucers. You had emerged from where you hid and Fili was mortified.

- You were a dragon…he was interacting with a dragon.

- What should he do? Would you attack him? He should scream for the others, but you didn’t seem dangerous? What were you doing in this forest?

- Questions ran through Fili’s mind as he saw you sniffing around him and then sniff at his person entirely. You were noting where his weapons were and that he also appeared frighten now.

- You were a beast, but you had a mind as well. Trying to show you meant no harm, and were just curious to him and his group, you lay down and cooed towards the dwarf.

- Fili was now weirded out by the dragon’s antics. Why was it being so friendly? Was it playing dumb? It lay down…it couldn’t possibly be thinking of hurting him seeing it in such a docile state?

- You were gradually getting bored of the dwarf’s frozen stance and opted to make a move yourself. You brought your head forward and sniffed at his belt where his daggers were located. Fili had jolted, thinking the worst, before he saw you take a dagger into your mouth and…chew it?

- You noticed how nice the metal, since it was a stolen elven weapon from months ago, and enjoyed the taste of the metal. Now, you weren’t a Gronkle, but even dragons that weren’t obsessed with gold or rocks had an appreciation towards metals.

- Fili continued to look on as you just used his weapon like some kind of chew toy. It seemed the dragon had taken a liking to his dagger, but why wasn’t it flying away now? He watched as you dropped the weapon before diving in for one of his larger swords located over his shoulder. The dwarf flinched before he let out a kind of nervous chuckle as you began chewing on this weapon now.

- You held the weapon in your mouth before turning towards the dwarf. You tilted your head sideways and trilled before bumping your round muzzle to his chest, pushing him back a bit.

- Fili was surprised before he made a kind of offended sound and reached to push your head in retaliation. You were quick to drop the sword and shoved him back even harder. Before you knew it, you and the dwarf were wrestling on the floor- well, more like you were “manhandling” him and throwing him around as he knew how to brace himself.

- You didn’t know how long you were playing around with the blond dwarf before you and he heard the sound of another voice calling to him.

- Oh no, it was Kili! Fili looked panicked as he tapped your snout, you immediately letting go, and dropping him to the floor. You watched him collected the dagger and sword before dashing off into the dark forest.

- You were intrigued at what caught his attention, but also felt hungry now that you spent some of your energy using weapons and a dwarf as chew toys. You flew off into the night, camouflaged with the sky as you heard the voices of other dwarves yelling about “trolls” or something, not that you could care.

- It wouldn’t be until you were hunting spiders for food that you’d meet with the group again, missing their magic man. Perhaps next time, you’ll make some more dwarf friends?

- After all, this dwarf was so friendly despite your kind, what could go wrong?

[sabh0]

Hi, sorry to bother you, I'm new in this fandom and I feel like you're kind of a big figure in here, so I wanted to know if you read fanfics and, if so, if you had any rec for me? I can't say I like the usual take on Chuuya or Dazai or their relationship in most fanfictions, making of Dazai an emotionless bully and Chuuya an angry spazz with anger management issues and absolutely no brains.

Your takes on the character seems to me closer to actual canon, and so I figured you'd probably know of fics I would actually enjoy.

(If you do, then to be more specific, I'd rather avoid fics with no powers/modern aus and if explicit, then no bottom chuuya, please? For some reasons, bottom Chuuya writers always make him to be some dainty little princess and Dazai a daddy dom which is. Hilarious. Holy fuck.

Hi!! Damn i get ur problem 😭😭 I don't read fanfics regularly exactly because i cant find things that would be close to my perception of their relationship,, even if, i read mostly oneshots

Im picky af,,

Tbh i don't really remember many fics, but for some reason i have saved a bunch of them by halfbloom (diphylleias) so i would only guess my past (months ago) self thought the writer was good real good. I dont remember most of these, but i must say i regulary reread one of their fics, "Castles out of couches" (this is a oneshot consisting of??? A lot of very short stories about skk living together) (im a sucker for domestic skk that r still silly and bickering for fun) (and this fanfic is exactly that) (instead of suddenly very cutesy and petnames using couple that some ppl write) (castles out of couches makes me giggle like a teenage girl) (i drew some old arts based on this one, even)

So i would start from there and then check other halfbloom works with tags u r interested in! (I obv skipped what i didn't wanna read right) (tho i think they mostly write skk talking things thru, which is cool)) (there may be nsfw in some ig?? But it's bearable amounts + none of that annoying uwu chuuya daddy dazai)

[bonetrousledbones]

actually since i've broken my streak on not annoyedposting anyway i might as well get this one outta the way too. look the second i saw the "does sans actually care about papyrus dying" discourse pop back up i immediately recognized it as something very annoying that i couldn't care less about and don't want any part in whatsoever because WHO CARES that being said if i keep seeing those posts about it in the papyrus tag im going to meticulously comb through each of my aus to see how exactly i can kill sans off in every single one

[blackdogswims]

So apparently the church scene in s7e2 Beneath You was originally been written by Doug Petrie, before it got binned by Joss Whedon who rewrote it the way it ended up in the show. The Petrie version was... not good. I find myself in the awkward place of having to give Joss kudos.

Here's a link to James Marsters discussing the change:

Here's Petrie's version, pulled from the above Reddit post:

A CEMETERY. 

It's dark, long shadows cast from headstones. Buffy comes running into the cemetery, stops.

She looks around, searching.

But the place is empty. Buffy turns to go, then stops. She looks back to the sole source of light casting these long headstone shadows...

Buffy's POV - We see, at the far end of the graveyard, a solitary CHURCH. A single light comes from within.

Buffy stares at it a moment, some kind of peace coming over her. Then she walks toward the church

INT. CHURCH - NIGHT

Twin heavy doors swing slowly open and Buffy enters the church. She hears the sound of sobbing.

She walks in, cautiously, drawing a stake.

Buffy's POV -  We see a figure, its back to us, sitting in one of the pews, rocking gently back and forth.

Buffy approaches. It is Spike, sitting alone, looking as lost and frightened as he can. He speaks softly and sanely.

SPIKE: I figured it out. Took awhile, yeah, but...I think the real problem is...

He looks to Buffy, eyes wide, vulnerable,

SPIKE : I was once this really nice guy.

Buffy remains cautious, keeping her distance.

BUFFY: So that's the problem.

SPIKE: I think.

BUFFY: Got news, Spike. You're not that nice.

Spike laughs, quietly, enjoying the irony of a good joke.

SPIKE: Yeah. I've been...well come on- Let's face it, been a one-man slaughterhouse, last hundred years. Raping. Murdering. And for what? (beat) Kicks.

He stands in the pew, bows his head in reverence.

SPIKE: William the Bloody awful poet, skipping down the lane...good boy, bad boy, all the sodding same. You like it? Wrote that one myself.

He rolls his head around slowly, up to the ceiling, staring.

SPIKE: Is it hot enough in here to burn all your mortal sins away? 

And suddenly, vampire-fast, he stands straight up.

SPIKE: Or am I just crazy? 

He laughs, steps from the pew, into the aisle.

SPIKE: Stuffy. Stuffed. Full, packed, sorry mate, no room, out you go, we're packed to the bloody brim, standing room only and no room for that. We. Are. Full.

Buffy steps back, giving him a wide berth. Spike lurches forward, up the church aisle, zig-zagging left and right, but always moving forward.

SPIKE: Full of sin. Full of guilt. Full of hate and love and loss and feeling. Full of it, quite frankly and it's been so long.(laughs) Since we felt anything here. Rusty switchboard, sparked to life, bound to be more'n a few sharp shocks.

Buffy slowly following behind, never losing grip on that stake, and watching...

SPIKE: Right? RIGHT?!? Shh. Quiet. Church. His house. Place of clasped hands, reverent hymns, and massive raw amounts of BEGGING. On your knees, boy. Beg him. BEG HIM...

And we see where Spike is heading: at the head of the altar, there stands a large, carved-stone CRUCIFIX.

SPIKE:...for forgiveness.

BUFFY: Spike...

SPIKE: Buffy. I can't sleep. Can't think. There's voices and darkness and blindness and pain and help me, I- I...

He keeps walking, slowly, up the aisle. Gets to the altar's steps and keeps going...straight to the cross.

BUFFY: You have a soul.

Spike stops at the cross. Responds without looking back.

SPIKE: I do indeed.

He wearily lets his head rest upon the stone crucifix. And STEAM rises from where his flesh makes contact. He grimaces, but does not scream.

SPIKE: And it's killing me.

He reaches out and HUGS the crucifix with both arms. Steam rises from his palms.

SPIKE: God...

He releases the cross, slowly pulling back and turning to Buffy

SPIKE: God hates me. You hate me. I hate myself more than ever.

Buffy wants to step forward but does not.

BUFFY: But why'd you do it...?

SPIKE: You know why. I got my soul back...

He keeps turning, now facing Buffy, barely able to stand on his feet, wobbling a bit - and holding his arms out wide.

SPIKE:...So I could be the kind of...(laughs)...Person...you could care for, the man you would come to...the man you could love.

Spike GRINS through bloody teeth. The burn marks stand out fresh upon his forehead and palms. He looks like death, and any second he's going to collapse.

And still, it's like something terribly sad is actually, deep down funny - and only he gets the joke.

He walks toward Buffy. Staggering gently. Eyeing the stake she still holds in her hand. He's drawn to it - and to her.

SPIKE: I was the enemy, then I was nothing, and now I'm God's garbage, not even a joke, less than, less than, less than all His creatures combined so tell me, dear Buffy...

Buffy lets him approach, unmoving, but not letting go of that stake, either.

He barely makes it to her - and SLAMS straight down, to his KNEES. And opens his arms wide.

SPIKE: How ya like me now?

Buffy's mind goes a long way trying to come up with the answer, but her mouth cannot speak and we:

BLACK OUT.

END OF SHOW

[brobotsbro]

Me: cringe culture is dead! Like what you like, write about your blorbos who cares if it's self indulgent or bad or whatever!

Me: unless it's me. I can't let anyone know I Feel

[rmu-vincent]

Dear Mr. Edgeworth,

I was honoured to discover that you have noticed my post regarding the mythology of the g-districts. For now, it is my pride and my joy, given the time and amount of thought I put into it; however, at the same time I worry if I came off as, what people these days call "unhinged" for my ramblings. Have you any further thoughts? You seem to be a person who is knowledgeable about these sorts of things.

I give my thanks and wish you well in your studies.

– @voorice-corp

Dear Ms Seraphine,

Thank you for the flattering words and kind wishes, I sincerely appreciate your message.

First of all, I would like to mention that your dedication to carefully putting together such a clear and concise piece of detailed analysis is worthy of respect. Please be informed that your writing strikes me as elaborate and thoughtful, and I enjoy reading your thoughts. I recall your discussion of the Leviathan under one of my posts; I might not agree with all of the statements there, but I cannot deny that you seem to be a great debate opponent.

Secondly, please note that I have never been the one to rely on mythology and fairytales, so my opinion is affected by my general beliefs. Myths are integral to any culture, and ours is no exception. However, with the rapid development of technology and the constant changing of our world, those stories, to my mind, are outdated at the very least. It does not matter if there was a Great God or a Liveiataan, what we have now is the present and our freedom of choice. Of course, some people are not ready to create their own destiny and choose to blindly follow the directions given by others. Ultimately, I would say that there definitely are some people who are more likely to succeed in life, to "ascend Arrat," as you put it, but it is only their choices that determine their fate.

Still, I would like to point out that you referenced Liveiataan as "a symbol of power and perfect government". It is not my place to discuss it in terms of religion, as I am the farthest one could be from believing in any sort of dieties both because of my stances on life and my predominantly non-religious peers (out of people I know, the one connected the most with mythological concepts such as God would probably be Victor, who is not actively practicing any religion), but I could assess it in relation to the book Leviathan. According to Thomas Hobbes, the perfect government is absolute and thus provides the ultimate form of safety for its people. There are those who have the right to choose and those whose faith is to obey orders. Hobbes mentions God imposing the ten commandments as well as other rules, but ultimately failing to realise that to hear his words, people would have to break his regulations; Liveiataan being the force that is able to challenge God himself makes sense.

In conclusion, I am much more knowledgeable on other subjects, but I am always open to reading and discussing matters similar to these. Your writing is delightful, and I look forward to seeing more of it in the future.

Best regards,

Vincent Edgeworth

[heirbane]

Love it when I stumble upon a new blog for someone I used to write with like, five years ago, and find out I'm still blocked. Homie. Was the beef that bad.

[mitsundere]

more benbaro sillies...

[triglycercule]

i love characters with barely elaborated on personalities and traits and all that. dust sans??? absolute perfection i can do whatever the fuck i want with him. headcanon anything i want as long as it fits the framework that askdusttale has given me. nightmare??? his one main trait is that he's bad do you know how amazingly vague that is. i have even MORE freedom with him than anyone else. there are various different types of bad guy and i can make nightmare all of them and none simultaneously because he's simply not all that elaborated on. once i lose that creative freedom i lose all will to do anything with characters