#this one probably doesn’t make sense yet because they’re both refusing to think about what’s real or think about anything at all

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[lemmetreatya]

Hey Mun! Not sure how many characters you take but can you do headcanons of turn ons and turn offs for Geto Gojo Toji and Nanami? Bless 🙏🏻

wgw1!! idk if this req was actually meant for me or nawt but why tf not!! lool lets get into it!

JJK MEN HEADCANONS: TURN ONS AND OFFS

ft. Geto, Gojo, Toji and Nanami (ft. Megumi)

contents: modern au, strong language, slight glimpses of gaslighting idk

Geto

Turn OFFs:

Dislikes strong smells!! deffo think he’d be one to faux gag if something even vaguely annoyed his senses (he can be so childish at times lol).

doesnt even have to be a bad smell, it could literally be perfume

He refuses to say its sensory overload, which you’d even be able to accustom and understand better, but no he literally just… doesn’t like it

“Eurk! Wha’ the fu’k?!”

Geto loudly makes a display of gaging as the two of you were sat on the train. With a face of surprise, you look at Geto with annoyance.

“Really?! In public?!” You hissed.

The man only held his nose as he sideeyes the lady that just passed him by. Subtly sniffing yourself, you scoff at Geto’s reaction.

“The perfume didn’t even smell that bad. It was kinda nice even.”

Geto disregarded your comment by making even a bigger heaving sound.

“It’s infiltrating my fucking nose, oh my god.

You had to look away with a sigh. He really could be dramatic sometimes.

He gets turned off when a significant other asks for his opinion and does the exact opposite. he says it’s a waste of his ‘sacred wisdom he chose to bestow upon you’

especially if its to make a decision they’ve been pondering on for time. if they do or pick the other option, he feels like his opinion is so bad that in giving the wrong answer, the person chose the right one !!

it gives him a very phat inferiority complex but he wont admit it so anytime he sees it he’s like RedFlagRedFlagRedFlag 😭😭

Turn ONs:

he gets turned on when a significant other plays with his ears.

its kinda weird because he’s very particular about who touches him and its a part of him that normally people would look at in wonder but not go out of their way to ask to touch because he’d probably say no

and in all honesty, he would dsodjsj but if you’re both laid up with each other and you subconsciously do it, he won’t complain

he secretly loves the stimulation of it

With his head laid up in your lap, Geto’s eyes were glued to the screen.

He was so adamant to watch this documentary and you had absolutely no interest or intention in watching it with him. Yet surprisingly, you found yourself rather interested in the topic of discussion and so ended up sitting with him.

Subconsciously, your hand stroked down from the crown of Geto’s head to the shell of his ears, your fingers aimlessly fiddling with the soft flesh.

Geto hadn’t voiced anything about it so you didn’t realise for awhile, but when you noticed it was his ears you were touching, you made a short ‘ooh’ sound before retracting your hand.

“What? What happened?” Geto used his arm to sit up and look back at you, eyes beady as he made sure everything was okay.

You quickly shook your head.

“No, its nothing. I just realised I was touching your ear and I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, Geto only lowered himself back onto your lap with a huff. He gingerly wormed himself back into a comfortable position as his eyes were already trained back onto the TV.

“I thought it was something serious.” He mumbles.

Oh he loves intelligent conversations — this doesn’t mean the content of the conversation has to be strictly complicated or about something big brained. it could simply be something you’re both passionate about and therefore can talk in great depth about

he loves being able to have bartering points and see different perspectives or discover new possibilities together with someone who knows what they’re talking about!!

Gojo

Turn OFFs:

Excessive swearing

Gojo’s own mouth isn’t the cleanest in the book, but he hates when there’s just too much bad language flying around

In his words: “It disturbs the Holy Spirit in me.”

“And I swear to God! If you ever touch my fucking wife ever again, I promise you I’ll fuck your shit up so bad, you’ll fucking wish you were pissing out your own’s mother’s cunt!”

You were practically on the edge of your seat at the confrontation scene that was going down. The movie had built the climax up so well, you couldn’t believe that this was how it turned out.

However, before you could see what happened next, the TV turned black and you were left with looking at your reflection within the screen.

“Wh—”

You turned round to see Gojo with the remote in his hand as he shook his head in fake solemn conviction.

“It’s just way too much foul language. How are you even watching this?” He sighed.

Leaning up from your seat, you grabbed the remote back from the man.

“Boy, JustGimmeThatShit.” You gave Gojo a stank face before turning the TV back on. Only this time, you lowered the volume.

Big turn off is when people are too much in his business — Which is real contradictory because Gojo’s the King of Tell Me The Drop, but he really believes that he’s superior in the sense that when he knows something, it’s because he rightfully should

Its kinda toxic tho because if you try and pry something out of Gojo because he may well be hiding something, he will vilify you for wanting to know shit from him

Turn ONs:

Kinda the opposite to Geto, but he loves strong smells (but only nice ones)

Use too much detergent in your clothes? Dont worry, Gojos inhaling the scent right tf out of it

New perfume? He notices right away and demands he get to smell all the areas you’ve used it

Cooking something zesty?! Gojo’s first in line to try it out (and sneaks nosefuls directly from the pot throughout the day)

“Gojo!”

Caught red handed, Gojo looked towards you like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes wide as he had the opened pot lid in his hands.

“I saw that!” You pointed.

Dropping the lid and quickly scrambling away from the crime scene, Gojo let out a high pitched cry. Walking over to the abandoned pot with a sigh, you placed the lid back on top to close it.

“We’ve spoken about this.” You say into the air.

You couldn’t see him but you heard the soft sound of pitiful shuffling from somewhere within the vicinity.

“I’m sorry…” You heard whine from a far away place. “It just smelt so good.”

He gets turned on from a good rub session.

It doesn’t even have to lead to sex, but Gojo just loves rubbing up on others and being rubbed on (permitted he likes the person)

Hes got langly arms so hes able to reach all parts of you regardless of your positions

Just being able to snuggle up with each other for hours on end is his thing; to the extent where you have to ask him if he needs to go toilet because he’d rather be busting to go than not suggle

Toji

Turn OFFs:

Things that take too long!!

Hes a very impatient man and wants everything instantly

you sometimes worry about doing things in public with him because his patience is vey minimal

“I’m not waiting any longer, gimme the car keys.”

You were just about getting the last of the items off the shopping list when Toji had popped up in front of you with a very constipated expression.

Sighing, you fling your head back in annoyance.

“I— TJ, just hold on! I only need to get the last of the stuff then we can go. Just queue up in line and by the time it’s our turn I’ll be back with the rest.”

“But I’ve been waiting for too long!”

“And I’ve only been gone for two seconds!” You say with open eyes.

Shrugging, Toji sorts his hands inside your pocket before pulling out the car keys.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going back to the car.”

You couldn’t even stop him slugging off regarding your hands were full. Looking left and right, you called out to him.

“Wh—So where’s our shopping trolley?!”

Toji shrugs, his back towards you as he made his way towards the exit.

“In line.” He shouts back.

Nagging. This man absolutely hates when people nag him. It’s even more annoying because he will not get shit done on the first listen/ask so sometimes nagging is all you can do

He’ll literally switch off if he thinks you’re nagging him and it’s so jarring when he does because you could be telling him something so crucially important but because he was nagged an hour ago he’s not listening for shit

Turn ONs:

when you automatically co parent with him

now again, yes hes a bit of a lazy guy so any prospects of a potential babysitter guardian for his kids he’ll run at

but its that energy of treating his kids as your own (and no less to your other kids if you have any) that really turns him on

“Alright, ‘Gums, you know how this goes, right?”

The black haired boy nodded, a subtle smile on his face as he met you in the middle to shake hands.

“Of course. Win the match, or at least MVP, and then coerce dad into taking us out for a congratulatory meal.”

With a wide grin, you ruffled Megumi’s hair before patting him on the shoulders.

“That’s my boy. Now go get’em.” Surging him off onto the playing court, you gleamed upwards as you felt Toji come stand behind you.

“What’dyou tell ‘im?” He gruffly asks as he passes you your requested confectionery from the stand.

“Oh, nothing too much.” You grinned. “Just your usual pre-game encouragement!”

turned on by the exposure of flesh in subtle places

hes not talking barely no clothes (which he doesnt mind) or nakedness (which he even more doesnt mind) but when you wear an outfit that is supposed to be modest but theres a lil slip or cut in the cloth that shows just that sliver of innocent skin, hes bearing his teeth in glee

its the prospects that you could be showing a lot more or covering up way less but you choose to go sensible. yet that lil fun side to you still peaks out

Nanami

Turn OFFs:

overworkers

a bit canon yes but he hates when people dont know when to take a break. like my goodness its not everyday work yourself to the bone

hes very serious about holidays and clocking in overtime so the very scent of doing more than you should aggravates him.

“Where are you?”

Nanami’s voice over the receiver sounds plain but you can tell there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Hey Ken, I’m still at work. I’m just packing up now. You outside?” You say as you hold the phone between your ear and shoulders.

“It’s five past.” He grumbles.

Pausing in your tracks, you make a confused face.

“Yeah, and?”

“You should have been packed up ages ago.”

Noticing where he was coming from, you sighed loudly albeit with a smile tinted on your lips.

“I was just catching up with a colleague. Don’t worry, I’ll be right down.”

There was a slight pause, almost like a thought, before he spoke again.

“As long as you weren’t working past your finishing time—”

“Yes, of course! Never would I ever dare to work past clock-out!” You laugh as you make your way out of the office.

hes turned completely off when people have no regard for others

whether that be not tidying up after themselves or not being aware of their surroundings or even deciding to eat something shareable in the presence of others without othering

hes a very considerate man when it comes to these things and he genuinely hates when people are just really selfish with shit

Turn ONs:

Seduction

Seems quite vague because isn’t that how everyone’s caught?!

But no, someone having confidence to seduce him always works. It doesn’t mean he’ll always be receptive to it but simply having the guts to approach him will definitely have him thinking about it at night

As the music played throughout the apartment, you couldn’t help but dance playfully onto Nanami, backing up onto him as he stood rather distracted with the dishes.

“Versace on the floor, Ouuuh! Take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now girl!”

The man kept his head stoically focused on the dishes, trying his best to not engage with your antics.

“Come on, Ken, dance with me!”

You laid your hand out in his direction, beckoning him to your patronage. Nanami shook his head although he had a slight smile on his face.

“I’ve got to finish the dishes.” He excuses.

Leaning forwards to look at him, you lift your hand up to drag a smooth palm down his chest.

“Forget those for a second, handsome. They’ll always be here. Just come dance with me. for a bit.” You said in a sultry voice, you eyes hooded as you bit your bottom lip.

Nanami looks between the dishes and you three times before dutifully succumbing.

Cleanliness!!

Having a clean place, person and home is very important to Nanami! Even more when it comes to his significant other because he aint going down on nobody with glued shut booty flaked cheeks or poor grooming habits

but in general, just being graced with the cleanliness of others is his thing

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

directors cut for the tsaritsa's tea party and the confrontation after from chapter 10 of emminence grise pleasee???

Sure! Let’s just go through the chapter!

So she’s refused to think about it much but Mal’s silence has been a big source of hurt and insecurity for her. The uncertainty of like… why did he suddenly stop wanting to associate with her? Without even a single word of explanation. And it’s just exacerbated by the tenor of her relationship with the Darkling, where he keeps her so at arm’s length. And the constant creeping feeling that any sort of status or positive relationship she has is a result of her being the sun summoner, as opposed to anything to do with her as a person. Alina starts the canon trilogy incredibly insecure, but it’s worse here, under a veneer of learned confidence, where she has the constant nagging worry that like what is wrong with her? Is she inherently not worthy of love (of any sort) somehow? The one constant person in her life prior to her achieving her status apparently lost all interest in her and left without a backwards glance. The Darkling is currently the most important person in her life but he refuses to offer her any sort of emotional assurance.

So realizing that Mal had reached out to her, multiple times, that he probably thought she was the one that turned on him, is very jarring to her. And that’s the heart of why she finds this pretty unforgivable on the Darkling’s part. She’s at least currently convinced herself that Mal means nothing to her anymore, so it’s more about this well of grief and hurt feelings he’s caused her— on purpose!

Genya’s being wry with her, but she’s very concerned with how Alina doesn’t seem to see actual stakes in this. And she’s right.

Alina can’t fathom that the Darkling might be dangerous to her. She thinks that they can bicker and she can push him, but that she’s seen the extent of his cruelty and can therefore handle it. But Genya is afraid of a situation where he goes gloves off with her. Or if they’re just not careful, and there’s a scandal, that he will likely be able to walk away from any fallout much more easily than Alina will.

This is somewhat more her having absorbed the Darkling’s values, and hatred of vulnerability. She’s very embarrassed by who she was when she first came to the Little Palace, by how openly emotional and earnest she’d been.

And she’s just miserable at the thought that he saw even more of that vulnerability. That he pried into her deepest feelings and her insecurities. She’s barely even really considering the violation or lack of trust over him reading all of her current letters. She means to get back at him for it, but she does kind of view it as a game. I don’t think she actually understands what that suggests about his general controlling behavior.

Here she’s rubbing it in his face that he’s encouraged her to develop any sort of power that he doesn’t have full access to. She’s technically doing exactly what he wanted! He wanted her to develop soft skills and ingratiate herself to Tatiana. To wheedle her way into favor with the Lantsovs in a way he cannot, because he’s always going to be viewed as vaguely a threat given his position as a political player.

But yeah that means he can’t just literally drag her out if she’s with the Tsaritsa, at least not without doing a little dance.

They’re both waiting each other out. The Darkling knows she hates parties/court life etc as much as he does (both on her own as a personality trait, but also because he does, and he’s fostered that in her). So he assumed she’d get tired of playing chicken. She didn’t so he’s like ugh fine. I’ll do the dance.

So in conversation it comes up that the Darkling’s been behaving a bit unusually! This isn’t necessarily like in a negative or barbed sense yet, but it’s an anomaly that’s been pointed out. And Alina is quick to jump on it, just to be malicious and make him squirm a little.

She’s had opportunity to tease him before, but she’s never actually had leverage on him. And at this moment, in this room, she can use civility and etiquette to force him to play nice.

Genya’s look makes her realize she might have pushed it a bit far— their exchange did get a little tense. So she changes the subject, though it’s still one that’s meant to needle him.

Minkoff and Gritzki are both family names mentioned in S&S, same with the villages. A Lantsov summer residence is mentioned at all, I believe, but it’s not clear where it actually is. (It kills me a little to not convert it to like Minkova, but that’s how the books do it 🤷‍♀️)

Industrialization baybey

Also it’s funny, the line about the ice court isn’t attributed, but everyone assumed it was Tatiana. I’m happy to roll with that interpretation though. I just wanted to get across the nobles’ general tone deafness. It doesn’t matter who says it— anyone might have.

Her receiving bundles of letters fairly frequently is somewhat historically based. The way mail worked in the Victorian era at least, you could give a packet of letters to the next ship or caravan going the other direction. You could get mail while at sea because you'd make a point to rendezvous with other friendly ships and exchange letters from various sources and to various destinations, based on your route. So that’s why Alina’s getting stacks of them.

[kny-agere]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a drabble with Cg Kokushibo & Douma looking after A little Akaza who's in babyspace? Maybe this is the first time he's regressed so young and there both trying to figure out how to best take care of him? (Idk why but I think they'd make a pretty good caregiving duo since they'd probably balance each other out lol) I also really like your work! The drabbles I've read are very cute! ^^

Thank you for the compliments!! I hope you enjoy this :>

★彡☆彡★彡

It was hard finding someone to take care of him. Akaza wouldn’t let anyone see him as weak just because he indulged in certain comforts. At first he considered one of the lesser demons as caretakers, but the lower moons tended to rotate quickly and he didn’t get along well with Hantengu or Gyokko. Gyutaro wasn’t a horrible candidate but his sister claimed most of his attention.

Looking at the demons above himself Akaza felt cornered still. He found Douma too grotesque to be useful in such a way, and it’d be deluded to think that Muzan cared about anyone other than himself.

Kokushibo however was promising. The man was quiet, but Akaza preferred that anyways. He just wanted someone to keep him company, a stable hand against his back.

So they fell into things naturally. Kokushibo had a surprising aptitude for caring for others, which extended to Akaza. He was still quiet, but would scoop the demon up to cradle or redirect his energy when needed. There was no sense of shame either, it was an understanding that their gentle moments together were separate from their lives as upper moons. No titles were needed when exchanging words.

That wasn’t to say everything was perfect. Kokushibo was bad at explaining things to Akaza, if he didn’t understand the downsides to destroying a room or refused to end a meeting when scheduled. Akaza sometimes got overwhelmed and rejected any of the other’s advances without reason.

Right now they were both struggling however. The rare meetings between upper moons are always hard. At least one of them ends up decapitated, with others injured in some way. It’s not quite as bad as individual meetings, in which Akaza knows he’ll be hurt, but still they’re not fun.

So they leave afterwards to one of the infinity castles many rooms. Kokushibo often faces the least of Muzan’s wrath, he stands straight and tall. Akaza stumbles behind him, clinging to the man’s loose robes. He keeps tripping over his legs and stumbling into Kokushibo’s back.

“Wait until we find a room.” Kokushibo gives the instructions directly. His hand lightly pushes Akaza away from him.

A wet sounding whimper leaves his lips. “I-I’m tryin’!” His legs feel heavy. Without the support his stance wavers again.

It’s uncommon for him to cry. Technically no tears have left his eyes yet, but the high cracks in Akaza’s voice are a sign that tears are on the way.

Frowning Kokushibo turns to the upper moon. Usually Akaza can take well enough care of himself. Currently he looks distressed however.

The older demon does what he knows how to and picks up the other. Akaza immediately wraps arms so tightly around his neck that it becomes hard to breathe. A stripped face hides itself within Kokushibo’s long locks. His updo sways as he walks, bouncing against Akaza’s cheeks.

Again there’s a sort of strange feeling, a disturbance to their usual routine. Often the younger demon will sit on his lap or ride on his back, there’s no clinging, no curled fists in his clothing or soft breaths echoing against his neck. It bothers Kokushibo a bit, the annoyance of too much physical contact.

So when they finally arrive to an adequate room he tries to set Akaza down. At first arms stay wound around his neck, but slowly he pries them off. As the boy flops to the ground he lets out a loud wail and tries to hide his face. One hand reaches out to attach itself back to Kokushibo.

He hopes that if he doesn’t turn away the fist currently grabbing his pants the boy might stop crying. Usually Akaza’s tears were still filled with anger or frustration rather than plain distress.

But after only a minute or two of waiting he’s already grown tired of the sobs. They’re not dying in volume or intensity. “Stop that. You shouldn’t be so loud.”

He refuses to quiet down until hands pick him up again. It still takes a moment for his tears to stop but eventually Akaza silences himself. His thumb is stuck into his mouth, but drool still trails down his chin.

Fishing a handkerchief from his pocket Kokushibo wipes up the mess under the boy’s lips. “What’s wrong?” This meeting hadn’t gone awfully all things considered. Akaza and Douma had bickered as usual, Hantengu was the one who ended up harmed, and then everyone was sent back towards their regular regions.

As Akaza attempted to answer he could only start off with stuttered syllables that didn’t evolve into any actual words. More drool slippered down his chin as he tried several times to repeat himself.

“Stop… you can tell me later.” The only thing more annoying than his cries were whatever the noises he had been making were.

He assumed that the younger demon would be relieved at the instructions, not longer having to try something beyond his current abilities, but tears built back up in the corner of his eyes. However the boy remained quiet (other than the occasional sniffle) this time, something Kokushibo was thankful for. He could think properly without the interruption.

Akaza was acting unusual. Perhaps the stress from the earlier meeting was still too much even considering the relative gentleness compared to other ones. It was possible this was unrelated to the master’s generally callous behavior, instead inspired by events Kokushibo hadn’t witnessed. Whatever it was had been enough to send Akaza into a state even younger than he typically regressed, that much was clear.

While he could coexist relatively well with the boy when he was toddler aged, the idea of Akaza being even more dependent on him was a little off-putting. Not because of anything the boy had done, but more so the fact that Kokushibo had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

Holding him was working well enough for now. Even his silent tears had tapered off and he was once again sitting comfortably within the elder’s arms. Kokushibo settled in a more comfortable situation and wrapped his arms tighter around Akaza.

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 3, Priority Rannoch:

-I wish Tali weren’t required for both Geth Dreadnought and Rannoch. I’d like to take Liara along and see her dialogue.

In general I’m not in favor of teammates being required for a mission; I prefer ME1’s system of letting you choose any of your squad.

In ME2 it made sense for loyalty missions, but ME3 requiring it for priority missions is an annoyance.

-Legion still having the Reaper upgrades may explain his increased social skills and the frequency of hints that he has emotions.

The upgrades increase his intelligence, so it follows his social awareness would improve as well.

Geth intelligence is also linked to personhood, so Legion experiencing more “emotions” as humans would recognize them is consistent.

-If you go renegade, Shepard’s frustrated that Legion lied and still doesn’t trust them.

I don’t recall Legion lying, per se – he never said he no longer had the upgrades. He let Shepard assume it. Still, withholding information is only slightly better than outright lying.

As for the trust – neither Shepard nor Legion have known each other very long and the geth have a poor history with organics. I’m not surprised Legion’s keeping quiet on anything that could be perceived negatively.

If you’ve gone renegade this whole time and insisted geth are merely machines, I’d say Legion made the right call. However, if you’ve been sympathetic to them I can see where Shepard would be frustrated; they’re doing their best to help the quarians and the geth and Legion is throwing up barriers.

I’m tempted to draw parallels with Victus again: Renegade Shepard can understand why Victus withholds information about the turian bomb on Tuchanka. Paragon points that out Victus’ choice helped no one.

I think in this case, however, it’s different because this is a personal matter about Legion and Shepard and Legion have a history. Victus was a stranger; Legion is a former squadmate. Shepard expects more from Legion – even if Legion isn’t quite ready for it yet.

-If you go paragon, Legion is ashamed of the Reaper upgrades.

Understandable. The only reason he has them is because his people allied with the Reapers. They’re not something Legion agreed to.

-Tali assumes this will end in the quarians having the Rannoch back.

Tali, I’ve been consistently pro geth this whole game. Why are you assuming Rannoch is yours?

I stated after the Geth Fight Squadrons mission that I think destroying the geth may not be necessary; have you considered what will happen if I do not?

And even if it did have to end with destroying the geth, I’d be strongly tempted to come up with a reason why you can’t have Rannoch. I do not think the quarians should be rewarded for attempting a second genocide.

-ME3 railroading again; paragon or renegade I encourage Tali here.

The contrast with Legion is stark – I can be pro or anti geth, understanding or frustrated with Legion.

But with Tali, I can only ever be supportive. No matter how much I, the player, may disagree.

This is what makes ME3 the weakest game of the trilogy for me. ME1 and ME2 give a lot of variation on how you play Shepard; ME3 is far more restrictive.

As a cinematic game, it’s brilliant – as an RPG, it leaves me wanting.

-Javik: Your synthetic ally is using Reaper code. That is a mistake.

Tali: No, Legion is on our side.

I agree with Shepard; not something I expect to hear from Tali. Is she finally warming up to him?

-Once again, cables are everywhere.

This has got to be the Reaper influence. I refuse to believe the geth are this untidy.

-Geth Primes are probably the hardest enemy I’ve fought so far.

-The Reaper reveal is very well done. No wonder the geth were protecting the “signal” so fiercely.

Also, how confident are the Reapers in their influence over the geth that they feel it necessary for a Reaper to personally supervise them?

I suspect the geth were resisting fiercely.

-The necessity to have Shepard face off against the Reaper is also well written. The jamming towers had already been established, as had the laser targeting device Shepard uses.

When ME3 wants to, it can write up a tight story.

Shame about the endings.

-Legion’s “good luck” to Shepard when they go to face the Reaper mirrors Shepard’s “good luck” to them at the start of the mission.

-The Rannoch Reaper says Harbringer speaks of Shepard.

We all know Harbringer is actually raving about Shepard non stop and everyone else is sick of him.

-Rannoch Reaper: You represent chaos. We represent order.

Javik said something very similar in a Normandy dialogue.

He must be horrified to hear it echoed by a Reaper.

Just where did that belief come from, Javik? You sure it was Prothean?

-Huh. If you Investigate with the Reaper, you can’t go paragon or renegade. Off to YouTube.

-Renegade Shepard: You’re just machines. This time, the organics are taking Control.

Hmm. Control is associated with Renegade here. In the endings, it’s paragon.

Although if you take the interrupt, it does end with Shepard calling down another strike on the Reaper.

-Paragon Shepard: I killed Sovereign, and now you.

And destroy is associated with paragon.

-Rannoch Reaper: We are your salvation.

Paragon Shepard: I have a better idea: we destroy you and live our lives in peace.

Again, destroy is associated with paragon.

This can’t be a coincidence. What made them switch it around in the endings?

I feel a vital piece of the game that was supposed to swap these philosophies must have been cut.

-I like the paragon and renegade options better than the investigate.

-I rewatched the investigate option and it doesn’t hint at synthesis.

Shepard emphasizes that peace must be possible between synthetics and organics, but that’s it. Nothing about space magic to blend the two.

-And with the Reaper dead, the geth are free and stop attacking.

So of course Gerrel immediately moves to kill them all, because Gerrel has zero restraint.

-And Legion’s true plan comes to light:

With the Reaper dead, he can safely upload the Reaper upgrades to the rest of the geth.

This would make them valuable allies to Shepard.

It’s Legion’s last ditch effort to free his people and keep them alive.

-Legion: Each geth unit would be a true intelligence. We would be alive, and we could help you.

I hate the Reaper code subplot so much. The geth are already alive. They do not need the Reaper code to deserve life.

I’m headcanoning Legion believes the same, and is going with this because he believes it’s necessary to convince Shepard to save the geth.

-Tali, it’s your fleet’s own damn fault that they’re attacking. If they could refrain from attacking nonviolent targets for one minute they would not be in danger.

-I dislike that it falls on Shepard to successfully call of the quarian fleet. It weakens Tali’s position as an admiral – it feels like she really is just an admiral for her technical ability, and not because anyone respects her.

Given that the quarians already ran into a situation where they believed the geth had lost their upgrades when they had not and nearly got slaughtered for it, when Tali calls them off they should at least hear her out.

-Legion’s sacrifice does nothing for me because it’s bullshit that comes out of nowhere. There’s no foreshadowing for it. There’s no logical reason for it.

The writers pulled it out of their ass because they wanted to mirror Mordin’s sacrifice in the Tuchanka arc, and that’s just shitty writing. It doesn’t make me sad. It pisses me off. Go back and make another pass on the arc to make it work. Legion deserved better.

-I’ll also note that it’s a weak point of ME3 that Legion can’t come with you as a squadmate.

It should be that if you choose the quarians you get Tali, if you choose the geth you get Legion, and if you make peace you get both.

By having Tali as the only possible squadmate, it makes people less likely to choose the geth. You lose a significant portion of Normandy dialogue without her.

If you could obtain Legion, I bet more people would choose them.

[foolondahill17]

“Hey, got an errand to run, wanna come?” Dean peeks his head into Ben’s room, and Ben barely lifts his eyes away from his phone screen.

“What errand?” He asks.

“Come on, no sense of adventure?” Dean teases.

Ben groans but heaves himself off his bed. “Fine.”

With Sam and Charlie gone, Dean doesn’t even have time to think about finding another hunt. He scrambles for lost time with the kids: drives Joey and Ryan to school in the morning, brings Krissy and Aidan out for target practice, volunteers for grocery runs, and cooks elaborate meals every night with leftovers so the kids don’t need to bring PB and J for lunch. He bites his tongue on any complaints about Linda and Kevin’s vegetarian choices, even when Alex starts asking for the same.

Dad used to be like this, he remembers – running himself ragged after he got back from a hunt that took longer than expected. Busting his ass to drive Sam to school or soccer practice, fattening them up with fast food, splurging on movies and sports games. Trying and failing to make up for lost time.

“Where the hell are we?” Ben finally looks up from his phone again by the time Dean tugs the Impala onto the side of the road. They’re about five miles from the Bunker, on a stretch of empty road hemmed by cottonwoods on both sides.

“You’re turning fifteen this weekend,” Dean tells him. “Bout time you got behind the wheel, don’t you think?”

“Really?” Ben asks. A smile breaks across his face like sun through a cloud. Dean’s stomach clenches. It’s too damn long since he’s done something for Ben. He remembers the last promise he ever gave Lisa, and not for the first time, he wonders if he hasn’t already broken it ten times over.

“Really,” Dean confirms.

He hands the keys to Ben, tells the kid to scooch, and gets out to round the nose of the car. Once he’s in the passenger side, he ignores the tumble of nerves in his belly and hides the shake in his hands. He hasn’t let any of the other kids behind Baby’s wheel.

Aidan and Krissy take turns with the Saab. Dean taught Emma in Sam’s Dodge Dart. Alex point-blank refuses to get behind a wheel, and Claire would sooner spit on his grave than exchange a civil word, let alone allow him to teach her to drive. She probably learned illegally during her time on the street, anyway.

“She’s got some power behind her, okay,” Dean warns him. “So you gotta ease into it. Think press, not stomp.”

“Okay,” Ben says, anxiety turning his voice breathy.

“You’ll be fine,” Dean reassures him.

Ben doesn’t quite get the press not stomp memo, because at the first touch of his foot to the gas, they’re rocketing down the road with a jolt that leaves Dean’s stomach behind him.

“Easy, easy!” Dean says, but he’s choking down laughter. He remembers Dad teaching him this when he was a kid. No one ever accused John Winchester of being a particularly patient man, and Dean sweated through every piece of clothing on his body out of nerves – convinced he was going to send the Impala careening off the side of the road. It didn’t help that he couldn’t even reach the peddles, yet.

Ben picks up the rhythm quickly. He’s reluctant to give her much gas, but Dean coaxes him into accelerating on the straightaways, at least, and there’s a couple more rapid stops when trying to maneuver around turns.

They’re at it for a little under an hour before Dean tells him to turn them around and head back to the Bunker. Ben has lost a little of his fear, and his confidence shines through his eyes even when Dean has to grab the wheel to keep them from edging over the side of the pavement.

They finally pull back onto the frontage road, and Ben jerks them into park in front of the Bunker.

Dean reaches over to rub his hand through Ben’s hair, and Ben ducks and groans, but Dean just laughs.

“Perfect landing, kiddo.”

Want more?

[alyjojo]

December 🌲 2022 Monthly - Aries

Whole of your energy: The Hermit

The Hermit doesn’t take action and doesn’t make decisions, and that’s the state you’re in this month. Rather, you’re in deep contemplation about your life as it is, especially work related, and where you’d like to be. 4 Swords here could be a much needed break, a vacation, time off for holidays with 9 Cups here as well. You may be canceling the holidays altogether for some time alone, for some of you. This is a very deep, serious, and introspective energy. Though you’re not actually making any big moves yet, they’re on your mind, you’re trying to see what’s the most beneficial for you going forward, and it could be involving your whole future.

What’s going on in December:

7 Pentacles:

You’ve put a lot of work into something, probably your career because I’m getting work energy from the next row. 7 Pentacles is having done all of the work, expecting a harvest to come through, and finally getting a break from having to manage every little detail as shown by the next row. You have options, you know this, but they’re summed up in should you continue on the path you’re on and coast a bit further, hoping things will change (change being the whole point), or do you blow up The Tower and let it all come crashing down, no doubt shocking some people along the way. You could be looking for another job, or at least considering it. You won’t make a move until you know for sure what you want, which is what this whole reading is concentrating on.

10 Wands:

You run the show wherever you are, the weight on your shoulders is kinda ridiculous with both 10 Wands and 2 Pentacles here. If your company does it’s reviews or raises, etc, at the end of the year, that would make sense for this energy and the “wait and see” part of it. Are you appreciated? Are they hiring help? Are you moving up, making more, etc? What is going to change to get some of this pressure off of you? Because if not, you’re not seeing the benefits of the crushing weight that’s on your shoulders. You’re definitely not alone there, so many people can relate to that 💯 If someone has a problem, they probably come to you, and you’re over here thinking about dropping it all and washing your hands - for something better or more aligned with your expectations & goals.

7 Cups:

You have a lot of options and you are aware of this, it’s what has you in such deep contemplation, because Aries isn’t too comfortable in a state like this for long. Not without a purpose, and yours is finding a solution, but you’re not rushing - which is good. You may have been in this position before, maybe you’ve visited these thoughts on several occasions and chose the “wait it out and be patient” approach, but things don��t change and won’t as far as you’re concerned. You’re weighing your options realistically.

7 Swords:

You don’t want to feel trapped, you don’t want a repeat of whatever has gone on before. This energy feels like a cycle you’ve gone through several times, not just once, and every time you end up being the one carrying the weight of the world, why? Because you can? Because you’re stuck and have to? Except you don’t. You’re worried about your finances, and your home or place to live, your stable foundation. Understandably. But you won’t settle for anything that raises red flags of the past, there are no repeats here. You want positive change 💯

6 Cups:

This row elaborates on what you refuse to allow or put up with, whatever happened in the past or a long-lasting cycle you’ve had it with, it ends now. You didn’t speak up. You didn’t make any decisions. You didn’t change what needed changing because you felt helpless to do anything, and this Devil shows you feeling trapped and chained to a situation. Not anymore. This cycle is toxic and has left you feeling heavily burdened, betrayed, hurt, you’re not doing it again & that’s the only thing you do know for sure. But you won’t act until you’re certain what you do want, now that you know what you don’t. 777 could mean something for you in this situation.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Most signs are here, Scorpio & Virgo dominate

Oracles: ✨

You’ve pulled 1 and 2, showing progress even if nothing is happening right away, a lot is going on inside of you and that’s where it all begins.

1 Movement Into Balance ⚖️

The sun ☀️ balances the moon 🌙 just as the earth, the water, and the smh remain in precious balance - so you are moving from unbalanced ideas and lifestyles into a more balanced way of being. A situation may call for more tweaking to adjust it into a balanced mode. Look at the energy and emotions you are putting out into the universe, your world, your relationships, or goals. Balance that with the energy you are allowing yourself to receive. The body inherently tries to maintain a state of balance; so do our souls. If you are not receiving enough, you may be unconsciously giving more to restore a perceived “balanced” state. Step out of that automatic response and listen to your guides and your soul for what this situation truly warrants.

2 New Beginnings 🌅

Water, emotion, energy, all life affirming and life giving. Patience is the key. Once the deluge of emotion passes, you will see that left in its wake is a wondrous new day, a rainbow of possibilities. Do not get attached to the emotions that surround this situation. This will only attach your identification with the emotion itself - giving it more power and hindering the release, so that the door to your new beginning will not open. Sit in the emotion, cry, journal, talk it out with a friend, and then let it go. Be thankful for the experience of the situation and proclaim to Spirit that you are ready for the newness that is about to come into your life.

We enter into December as:

Penelope and Pickle 🥒:

“Grief...is honoring a love lost.”

Grief is a natural part of life. We must always remember to love those around us as fully as we can in the moments we have them. Grief is only love, with no place to go. This may be calling you to understand your own or someone else’s grief. Loss is personal, it comes out different in each individual. Love always comes with the risk of loss, but is important to remember that we valued a friend. Penelope & Pickle knew the value in their relationship, and it’s sad they lost each other, but the fact this love ever existed is what helps us find the strength to love again. All cycles must be completed to start over. If you choose to honor your pain, and allow all of the mourning to come, it will be life changing.

What is to be learned in December:

Righteous Raspberry 💅🏽:

“I have the same high standards for myself as I do for others.”

This is a message to lighten up! Notice your present attitude towards others. Perhaps you’re being too hard on yourself, and others as well. Allow others to be as they are. Supporting others around you creates allies. Watch your expectations, you could be setting yourself up for disappointment. You cannot be satisfied if you expect others to live up to standards you can’t even live up to. Besides, others are not you. Do it wrong, mess it up, have flaws. Trying to make the world perfect will only exhaust and alienate. Allow things to simple be. Look for what’s right in your world.

Red may be a lucky color ❤️

[bratz-kitten]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PT. 7

gemini and pisces placements are similar in the sense that geminis are able to see things from all perspectives, while pisces are able to empathise with people who have all sorts of different perspectives. pisces placements... be careful with over-empathising with the people who hurt you to the point where you’re understanding why they did it and you start excusing their actions. gemini placements... be careful with seeking the multi-layers and million different perspectives in everything and everyone to the point where you’re driving your own mind insane and you don’t know what your opinion is anymore because you hyper-analyse so much. too much of a good ability becomes a curse.

people with venus-mars aspects have a talent for making people who hate them fall in love with them 💋

moon in the 11th house natives tend to attract friends who get into scandals. moon in the 10th house natives tend to be the ones who get into said scandals. it’s a PERFECT FRIENDSHIP

capricorn placements have a talent for knowing how to make things last. they want to prolong the enjoyment they get out of something for as long as possible, which is why their hobbies, friendships and relationships tend to last a lifetime... hedonistic sluts

since both the 7th house and the 11th house rule fandoms, celebrities with a 7th house or 11th house neptune can attract fans who view them as angels who can’t do nothing wrong — because of this, those celebrities rarely take accountability for their mistakes, since people keep pushing the “but they’re perfect :(“ light on them

pluto conjunct ascendant natives always come off as very serious during first impressions, no matter how approachable and inviting they strive to appear.

sun and moon in the 10th house people may feel as if they’re always exposed to the public eye, they can’t get away with keeping things secretive. others always notice whatever they want kept on the low. this can be especially frustrating if they notice that others aren’t exposed to the same kind of scrutiny that they are for simply existing

lilith in pisces bitches have a natural talent for appearing like angels even in situations where they are 100% guilty. it’s very easy for them to put on their vulnerable, lost puppy act lmfao, which triggers others’ protective instincts. they may be able to cry on cue when people call them out on their bullshit, making them feel like THEY’re the shitty ones for confronting the lilith native... it’s insane

lilith in the 12th house natives may feel as though the themes of lilith are trapped in their psyche, at the core of who they are and those themes become unavoidable for them — they’re always there, lurking in the shadows, becoming the center of their nightmares

people with mercury in the 1st house can feel veryyy threatened and defensive when someone possesses knowledge in an area that they don’t, it’s like it hits them right on their biggest fears. they often either try to “one-up” the other person in an attempt to heal their broken ego or shut down altogether in insecurity. it’s imperative that they work on developing a strong sense of self-worth because they can be extremely prone to comparing their mental skills to those of other people.

people with personal planets in the 12th house may feel as though a lot of their artistic drive is stifled by their lack of energy. like... in the mental realm there’s a lot going on and it’s incredible, but then you pick up a pen to actualize your visions and you feel exhaustion immediately overtaking you. it can feel like there’s a lot to your psyche that feels inaccessible to you not because you don’t want to explore it, but because you have yet to restore the energy to dive deep into it. this can be especially noticeable if there’s absolutely no 5th house energy in the chart

people with jupiter in an earth sign love being surrounded by greeneries in their home; they may take a lot of enjoyment out of taking care of plants, gardening, cooking and stuff of the sort. it makes them feel more grounded, independent, and even healed. they also LOVE scents that connect them to nature like the scent of grass and the ocean.

air mercuries can be very beware of strangers, they can feel offended when their friends make them socialize with someone they don’t know and it can take a hot while before they trust the person enough to lower their defences a bit. they need to know it’s safe before expressing their usual sexy eccentric selves in front of someone new. on the other hand, aries placements can also hate being introduced to new people through their friends but it’s mostly because they’re very territorial over them, and can’t stand the thought that this new person can hurt their friendship in any possible way

meanwhile, it’s probably an earth or leo/sagittarius mercury introducing new friends to the group. they’re so fucking good with people and it shows in how they make people feel welcomed so easily, it’s like they “take” the person in and adopt them into the group. they can’t stand seeing someone being treated like an outcast because they know how it sucks to feel rejected, so they’ll try their best to make you feel included

while on the subject of people who hate seeing others be treated like an outcast because they know how it feels like to be rejected: SCORPIO RISINGS. bro. people underestimate how chill they can actually be. if they see you being left out, they’ll approach you with no fucks given and do anything in their power to make you feel comfortable. they do so well in group settings.

and while on the subject of scorpio risings... i have a scorpio rising friend and he goes thru it on the daily. he often complains that people are always suspicious of him and that they seem repulsed by him, strangers on the street will stay tf away from him. and it’s so heartbreaking because his personality is so friendly and welcoming and it doesn’t at all match his intimidating appearance. scorpio risings have this energy that not many people can handle, others feel either really drawn to them or downright scared of them because of the “danger” element they seem to carry in them

i know two people who are both scorpio suns and libra moons and they look the exact same, even though they have different risings. brown, deep-set eyes, coarse dark hair, naturally tanner skin tone — and they have the same style as well, using lots of band t-shirts and dark clothing. scorpio energy is always so noticeable wherever it is i swear, it’s like it takes over the rest of the chart

gemini moons are what yall claim gemini venuses to be. like, seriously... have you ever met someone with a gemini venus? they don’t need constant stimulation or else they’ll get bored and cheat. not in the slightest; actually, they’re often incredibly loyal and crave longterm, committed relationships. if anything, they need stimulation outside of their relationship in the form of a good, exciting career and hobbies so that they don’t get too addicted to their partner and to constantly analysing every aspect of their relationship. gemini moons however, tend to have multiple partners throughout life and they often feat deep commitment. they can be huge players imo, IT’S THEM YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT!

sagittarius placements are so... tactile? like, they love to touch things. when they go to stores and stuff, they’ll start holding everything that catches their attention— it’s like they can only decide if they want to buy something after thouroughly exploring how it feels, the texture and the energy that the object gives them through touch. and they talk so much with their hands. it makes me so anxious like bitch you aren’t selena gomez, i promise you that you CAN keep your hands to yourself

taurus placements are so weird to me, i can’t understand them. it’s like they’re afraid of exploring their own depths, which in turn makes me unable to explore them. okay, how do i put this... it’s like they have this preset idea of who they are and after deciding so, they’re unwilling to let go of it. “i’m the stable friend who’s here for everyone even when i can barely take care of my own self” and then that’s who they are: the people who are a steady rock in the lives of others, taking care of everyone. and then they refuse to change even after getting hurt. and then, it’s like... well, you can’t just be that. you are a human who contains multitudes, but i don’t think you give yourself enough credit on how layered you are. that fear of changeability, that need to be the one stable thing in a world full of unpredictability will only damage you in the end, because you won’t get to fully experience life’s greatest pleasure: knowing yourself. becoming your own best friend, exploring every layer that there is to your being. i think you deny yourself of that experience because you fear that, with self-learning comes self-growth which leads to transformation. and you fear transformation because you don’t want to change for the worst. but like... transformation is necessary and with that comes adaptability + flexibility, which are things you could greatly benefit from.

scorpio venuses can be so pessimistic— and when they’re in a dark mindset, it’s so difficult to pull them out of it. it’s so difficult to get them to see the good in difficult situations, and to help them believe that it gets better. but even if you don’t believe me, i’ll keep telling you; it does get better. you’ll get through this.

jupiter in the 4th house is an indicator of food having been an amazing part of your childhood; there might’ve been a lot of feasts and you could’ve had a parent who loved to cook. being well fed might be a huge concern for you now; you might get sick easily when you’re eating fast food and non-traditional plates.

mercury square uranus is an extremely difficult aspect to have because, in your earlier years, you might’ve felt dumb or like there was something wrong with your intelligence because you might’ve found school difficult due to it’s structured nature that didn’t fit with the way you like to learn things— you need to learn in an interactive way that piques your interest. your anxiety and any traumatic experienced that you faced could’ve heavily impacted your school performance. you might’ve had an ease with learning but then, when it came to doing the written tests, you couldn’t perform to the best of your abilities. either way, school might’ve been a source of a lot of stress and difficulty.

mercury square pluto can have some weird manifestation where, like... you suspect things but you always suspect the wrong things. i’ve met a few people with this aspect and all of them were extremely suspicious of the most random things who were literally normal and innocent. this aspect can cause a lot of chaos to one’s interpersonal relationships because you might find yourself suspecting your loved ones in the weirdest circumstances due to your trust issues, which in return causes them to lose trust in you + the want to confide in you because you keep questioning everything they’re up to WHEN THEY’RE NOT UP TO ANYTHING IN THE FIRST PLACE. probably the most frustrating thing that can happen with this aspect is when you always suspect what you shouldn’t, but then, when sketchy things are actually happening that should be questioned, you don’t bat an eye to it. omfg it drives me insane

moon conjunct the ascendant can make someone have a very delicate appearance that gives others the impression that they need to handle you like fine china or else you might break. my mother has this at a very tight orb and whenever i bring people over, their first impression of her is always “she looks so frail”. the native might be extremely sensitive to every minor inconvenience which brings a lot of frustration to them, a feeling that they can’t control their reactions and inner turmoil. it can also suck when you don’t want to be depicted as the victim but then that’s the way everyone perceives you. the native might have very expressive and shiny eyes, and they can cry easily. it’s very difficult for them to hide their emotions.

your jupiter sign can signify where you feel an overflow of energy. jupiter in cancer may feel like you have an overflow of nurturing and protective energy towards your loved ones, with a lot of intuition and need for introspection. jupiter in leo can make you feel like you a talent for self-expression and dealing with others, being overly dramatic and prideful at times, and with a huge drive to have fun. jupiter in virgo can feel an overflow of perceptive qualities, with a huge amount of self-awareness and also awareness of your surroundings, ability to constantly analyse and a constant strive for perfection (which btw is impossible since perfection is unattainable and you’re a human being who makes mistakes and that’s completely fine. stop finding flaws where there aren’t none).

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[obeiii-mee]

MC had a bad day or they’re dealing with a bad loss from a loved one. So they decide to seek comfort from the Brothers! But they don’t do it in a normal way, they just barge in the room where the brothers are all relaxing or hanging out at before MC just busts in getting their attention and they go “I need a hug 🥺”. Let’s see the some fluffy hc’s of the brothers comforting MC 🥰

And how could they not want to hug their cute human that is literally 3 seconds away from breaking down into tears?

The Brothers Comforting MC After A Bad Day:

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You’re right, they wouldn’t be able to resist, they love their human too much 😌

*soBS* I want to hug one of them so bad rn

Thank you for the request, I love writing fluffy HCs, it’s my weak spot and it gives me serotonin. I hope you have a nice day/night!! Uh, it’s sort of implied that MC is slightly shorter than them so sorry if that’s a problem-

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Notes: Fluff, mentions of loss and dead family members/friends, mostly comfort though, short HCs

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beezlebub and Belphegor.

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Lucifer:

-He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t really need to because him just being there, arms wrapped around you and hands lightly running up and down your back, is worth more words than any sort of verbal consolation he could’ve given you and because of this, you feel at ease

-His touch is firm but gentle and you relax almost immediately, burying your head against his chest and feeling him press a kiss on top of your hairline, tightening your hold on him

-He already told his brothers to back off because the last thing he wanted was for you you to get overwhelmed by their insensitivity so you two were left in the living room by yourselves

-In a bit of an awkward position though, because you were both standing and after a while, it was clear a hug wasn’t going to be enough

-That’s his excuse as to why he picked you up bridal style five minutes later and carried you all the way to his bedroom, a place he knows his siblings won’t ever trespass without his permission and somewhere he can shield you from any prying eyes while you’re in this vulnerable state

-At this point, he was basically cradling you like a baby, having you sit on his lap and waiting for you to tire yourself out until you couldn’t cry anymore and watching you slip into that hiccuping stage you get after a breakdown

-Lucifer is obviously going to ask what happened, but whether you answer him or not is up to you because he’s not one to push matters if he sees you’re uncomfortable talking about it

-However, he might insist if he concludes that it’s affecting you and your well being and that’s how you know usually know he’s worried

-His voice is soft though and just listening to it makes you want to tell him everything, whether it’d be something as annoying as a small inconvenience you stumbled across that day or the death of a relative, you feel welcomed enough to spill everything

-Even if you decide not to, he’ll stay with you until you feel better, until you’re no longer crying or shaking or anything of the sort. He speaks occasionally, almost soothingly about how important you are to him and how capable you are of overcoming anything in your way. For the most part, however, he remains quiet and allows you to mull over your thoughts, willing to forget about his paperwork just to let you cling to him for a few hours

-Maybe later, when you’re no longer as distressed, he could get the full story out of you and help you overcome whatever problem you’re having trouble facing but for now, he understands all you need is for him to be there

“MC?” He calls your name out because he was thinking that maybe you had fallen asleep but he realised that was not the case when you looked up at him, streaks of tears still sliding down your cheeks. When you don’t respond, he sighs almost contently “A bit longer?” You don’t answer again but this time, he could feel you nod against him and he smiles despite himself as he leaned his head against yours “All right then, just a bit longer.”

Mammon:

-Truth be told, he’s never been the best at comforting someone and normally, he’s kind of awkward when he wants to show his support because it feels so out of his character

-But it’s not like he was going to refuse you anyway. Not when you specifically came to him and asked him for help and not when you looked like you were on the verge of crying. He’d be a monster to deny you >:(

-It upsets him too, you know. He’s meant to be your protector, guardian even, so the fact that he couldn’t keep you from getting hurt makes him feel like he failed at keeping his human safe. Actually, it takes a lot of convincing on your part just to tell him that you’re not actually physically hurt. Just a shitty day…

-Mammon, despite the walls he puts up ever now and then, is someone that genuinely cares for you. And he’s also the type that does almost everything in excess, especially when it comes to you or spending money. That’s just his personality; he’s loud and boisterous and even though he wants to deny this, completely transparent with his emotions

-You ask for a hug? He gives you plenty of hugs! He lets you lay on top of him while cuddling so he can hold you!!! He brings you snacks and drinks!!! Shit, he basically cradles you the whole night!!! And he’s blushing and acting annoyed the entire time, refusing to accept how much he’s actually enjoying this

-The point is, he tends to coddle you whenever you have a bad day or if you’re really affected by the loss of a dead loved one. This is probably because he, in turn, likes to be babied and cared for when he’s feeling down and he subconsciously does that to you because it’s the only means of comfort he knows how to execute well

-A hug would’ve sufficed, but you’re his human and let him be damned if he’s not gonna give you the world on a silver platter if you keep looking at him with those sad eyes of yours

-By now, if you need anything, you just need to ask because even with a bit of grumbling, he’ll get it for you. More snacks? Say less. Wanna watch TV with him for a while? Immediately reaches for the remote? You just want to cuddle? His body is naturally warm for a reason bby, dig in. You want his heart? Give him a moment to surgically get it out of his chest-

-No matter what, he’s so glad that you trust him enough to talk to him about this sort of stuff and that he’s the first person you think of when you need consolation

-It makes sense after all, right? He’s your first pact so your direct happiness is his responsibility while you’re in DevilDom! It’s his job to make sure you function again by tomorrow morning and that you’re no longer troubled by anything

“Hey! What’s with all the crying huh?” He cups your face in his hands and softly squishes the flesh between his fingers. His thumbs brush over the tears in your eyes and he let’s out a small ‘tsk’ as your foreheads touch and his hands drip to your shoulders to keep you steady “The Great Mammon is hugging ya right now, ya know? There’s no reason for you to be upset, not when I’ve got ya in my arms like this, OK? So you can stop with yer water works now.” As noisy as his voice is, there’s a gentle note behind it when he speaks and embraces you, his cologne spreading everywhere “I love you, ya big idiot. So please, stop cryin’ and lemme hold ya already! Yer making me worried, ya stupid human.”

Levi:

-You stopping by his room is not unusual. In fact, you do it every day and it’s just part of the routine you have with him. However, he’s wasn’t exactly expecting you to stand there, all shaken up and ask him for a hug!!!

-And he doesn’t process this request for a second but then he freaks out so badly-

-Yells incomprehensibly about how you’re ‘pulling your normie tricks on him again’ and how he’s ‘not going to be fooled by them anymore.’

-You raise your head to meet his eyes while he’s still rambling on though and he sees your teary expression and now he feels guilty because you look really upset. Levi’s kinda scared he made it worse-

-He’s the type to usher you in his room and lock the door as usual but instead of doing what the two of you always do, you literally stay attached to him because you need comfort damn it!

-Levi….is sort of clueless about these emotional outbursts since he himself doesn’t deal with them very well. However, he’s watched enough animes revolving around romance to conclude on the best course of action so-do not fear! (Spoiler, he still doesn’t know what he’s doing)

-He’s really stuck and can either stay as quiet as a nun or start babbling in a language you probably wouldn’t even understand because he’s so nervous

-Or actually, he might start crying with you if I’m being fair; he’s very in sync with his Henry and your emotions

-Once he calms down, he’s actually not all that bad at comforting. Levi is a bit stand offish with his hugs at first but he relaxes into them and by now, you’re both standing by the side of his bed, with you leaning onto him and him holding your hand. He then intertwines your fingers together but subconsciously because he wouldn’t have the gall otherwise

-Later, he tells you to help yourself with the snacks he has hidden in his room. I guarantee you he has a whole ass mini refrigerator hidden somewhere for his all night gaming session, in case he needs any boosts. No one knows how Beel hasn’t found the stash yet and there’s no need to tell him

-Then you watch re runs of old shows together and make fun of the shitty editing and dialogue. He’s still holding your hand though and he’s really flustered and wondering if it’s too sweaty for you but don’t mention it because he’ll get even more embarrassed

-He glances over to you, every once in a while, whilst you’re cuddled up against his arm, eyes glued on the TV, to make sure you’re OK. You almost gave him a seizure or at least that’s how he felt-so he made it his mission to make you feel better by any means necessary. Fuck today’s raids, his team can get them done without him!!

“I-I don’t know why you would want me of all people to hug you but…” he trailed off in a whisper, having to lean down so you could wrap your arms against his neck and bury your head in his shoulder. He pulled you in closer, a streak of protectiveness coursing through him as he shut the door to his room with his foot “Lord of the Shadows would never leave Henry all on his own, so I’m not going to do that either. This is an important character development arc and-just, please don’t cry. I’ll give you more hugs, OK? Seeing you like this is not good for my heart-“ stopped mid sentence after realising what he just said and now he’s the one burying his head in your shoulder, flushed beyond hell “Forget I just said that! Holy Lord Diavolo this is embarrassing, why am I like this????”

Satan:

-It troubles him greatly to see you like this and he can sort of feel the world shift out of place, seeing you with tears running down your face and hands balled into fists out of frustration almost immediately makes him fly into a fit of rage because who would dare to hurt you-

-Oh, a hug? If that’s all you need, he’s more than happy to oblige but if you’re as distraught as you seem to be, he wonders if just a small embrace from him would be enough

-Satan’s hugs are very intimate and even passionate at times. He has one hand on the back of your head and the other supporting your lower back while you bawl your eyes out into his shoulder and getting his uniform wet

-You can’t really seem to focus on what he’s trying to tell you because he’s so warm and welcoming and even though he’s someone as renowned as the Avatar of Wrath, he’s shockingly patient with you as you let out the overwhelming emotions that have been consuming you all day

-It’s hard to not relax when you’re in Satan’s presence because he’s calm and he smells like musty, old books and mahogany wood and cats, meaning he was most likely cuddling strays he found on the street the entire day. The first visual that comes to mind is fire crackling behind a grate in a chimney and someone reading a book while swinging back and forth on an old, rickety chair when you’re around him

-He will wait until you’re no longer crying and then, before you know it, you find yourself in the library with him, drinking tea and being handed a plate of biscuits he took from the kitchen to help you regain your strength after all that crying. You’re still feeling pretty miserable about the day you’ve had but you quickly lose yourself in a conversation with him over a cup of tea

-Sometimes, you two talk for hours on end about nothing important just to hear each other’s voices and finally have some quality time spent together. Even though he wishes the circumstances were better, he’s glad to have been able to snatch you away from his brothers for a while and he’s even happier you chose him to confide in

-Satan practically doesn’t even mention your outburst and keeps the small talk minimal but he wants you to know that if you do wish to tell him about it, he’s more than happy to listen and he’s not so bad at giving advice either

-The topic of the discussion you were having with him changed abruptly by the end of the night and now you’re reading together from this book he started a while ago, both of you covered with a blanket, your head on his chest and his leaning on yours. He’s holding the book with both of his hands, but still managed to get his left wrapped around you. And because of this feeling of safety and warmth, you don’t feel desperate anymore. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to sort out your feelings but now, you’re content to just listening to Satan read, in his clear, soft voice

“Ah MC, could you turn the page for me?” You do as he asked to and you could feel him smiling as he kissed your hairline, sighing before going back to the book and the story within “Thank you. You truly are amazing, did you know that? I’ve never met someone as caring and as kind as you. Well, I suppose Beel could compete for the title but unlike him, you don’t really leave us in debt whenever we visit the grocery store.” Hearing you laugh makes him smile even more and he lets you hold the other side of the book while he plays with your hair and now you join in reading with him, out loud and trying to act out voices for the characters. As everything unfolds, Satan feels the world click right back into place.

Asmo:

-It’s a known fact by now that Asmo is willing to give you any sort of affection at any point in time, whether it’d be a hug, a kiss, holding your hand-you name it! I mean, whenever he’s feeling down, you being there to encourage him helps a lot so it’s only natural it works the other way around too!

-If he notices that you’re genuinely upset by something, then he would have no problem whatsoever with lavishing you in attention and really, a hug or two from him is the bare minimum in situations like this

-In any case, he always enjoys fussing over you and you having a bad day is the perfect excuse for him to do so! After all, he can’t disappoint you since you came to him with your troubles and he will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Actually, if he could, he would keep hugging you forever but as miraculous as his charm can be, it’s not effective against someone with this low of a morale

-His first suggestion is to take a bath! It’s his way of taking care of you; you’re tired after such a long day and he feels like you’re neglecting yourself a little because of it. So you relax in his bathtub with him for a while, him actively trying to get your mind off any bad, lingering thoughts while you splash around in the bubbles

-And obviously after that, you need to have your mandatory spa sessions with him since you need to unwind and what’s a better way to do that than to let him paint your nails and apply lotion to your skin? Besides, it creates a great opportunity for you to take things off your chest

-He’s in need to hear gossip constantly so if you don’t feel like talking, he’s gonna be a bit bummed out but he still respects your wishes enough to not push you. If your problem is as sensitive as the death of a family member, you’re not obligated to talk to him about it and he will understand, since people grieve in different ways. He too shut down after the death of Lilith for a while after all

-A bad day is nothing Asmo can’t handle. He’s had plenty of those before, mostly because of Mammon and his thievery, they’re usually common factors. It’s only natural you experience those yourself and he’s more than willing to be your support system if you need one. He wants you to know that you can go to him if you need advice or help with anything, or even if you just need to someone to hear you out

-To give a more detailed explanation of his hugs, they are usually really light and you never feel suffocated when you’re in his arms. He never squeezes you too tight and he always smells amazing, so you feel inclined to stay near him for as long as possible. Despite his overtly loud nature, he gets incredibly soft spoken with you and he traces patterns on your back and arms as you stand there together

-It’s important to mention, he never pulls away from you first. He lets you decide when you’ve had enough and when you’re ready to move on or if you require some other means of comfort

-And even if you’re no longer disgruntled, he’s still going to pamper you as much as possible the next day with either a shopping spree or another few spa sessions, this time done at a professional institution rather than the privacy of his bedroom

-Asmo is in touch with your emotions and it’s kinda scary sometimes because of how well he can read you, since he almost always knows what you need

“Oh darling, how could I refuse a hug from you?” You can feel his arms embrace you, even with your eyes closed and for some reason, this makes you cry even harder, sobbing as he tries to comfort you. You’re aware he let go of you at some point and returned with a tissue to dab away at your tears, gently to not hurt your eyes and now he’s hugging you again, a wry smile on his face “You don’t have to worry about a thing, MC. Everything will get sorted out, I promise. In the meantime, come to me if anything troubles you again, OK? No more crying, darling-it’s bad for your eyes.”

Beel:

-The type to immediately lean in for a hug without even questioning why. As soon as you ask him, you barely have time to finish the question and you already find yourself in his arms. The only exception would be when he’s eating or maybe in the middle of a work out but the point is he doesn’t hesitate much when it comes to you. And I mean, he loves hugs just as much as his siblings do

-Beel is not the most observant and he may not realise you’re in a bad mood unless you tell him outright. It’s not even that he’s emotionally distant, it’s just that if you tell him that you’re fine, then he’s gonna take your word for it and believe you since he’s pretty straightforward with his feelings as well. However, as dense as he may be on occasion, even he’s bound to notice that you’re not being your usual self and this is especially true if you start crying out of nowhere while he’s nearby. Probably assumes the worst and is under the impression that he did something to upset you because shifting the blame onto himself whenever others suffer is his coping mechanism and we’ve seen him to do it before

-If you’ve just had a bad day, he understands that things could’ve been very overwhelming for you and he wishes he had known sooner so he could’ve helped back then, instead of letting it come to this. But he doesn’t hesitate all that much since he looks like he’s built for giving hugs on a daily basis. I’m not even sure this would classify as a hug since you’re not touching the floor. Rather, you are attached to him like a koala and he’s carrying you around as if you were a baby strapped to his chest. And he genuinely doesn’t mind. He’s been doing it with Belphie for centuries now

-Please, after a while he gets seriously concerned because are humans supposed to cry this much? What if you dehydrate or something? So he makes you stay in bed and just gives you plenty of water. You look so pale and sad, he shares his food with you too because his heart is aching just looking at you like this. He feels like besides being there, he can’t provide you with much help and he’s starting to think he’s hopeless at comforting

-If a family member died then…Beel is one of the best people you could’ve gone to. Honestly, having dealt with his sister’s situation, he knows how horrible it is to lose somebody you love dearly (I mean, all the brothers do but I’m making a point saying Beel, Belphie and Lucifer were especially affected). Now he’s sad himself since he’s aware that you’re going through something similar and his twin might walk in on the two of you being emotional on the floor

-For the most part, Beel makes sure you keep yourself healthy even when you’re tired and depressed. Continues to bring you food, even if he eats half of it on his way to your room, and just keeps you company in general in case you get lonely. Seeing you upset makes him even more considerate of your feelings and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t need to stay with you all night. He thinks he does because you’ve always offered to stay with him whenever he’s had nightmares before so how he’s gotta return the favour

-Beel gives these bear hugs all the time, since he’s so big and his hand basically covers your entire back. So, more often than not, you end up cuddling while standing because he’s a lot taller than you, with him being a demon and all. Despite that, you feel so unbelievably complete when he holds you like this. It’s hard not to feel protected since his whole body is practically concealing yours so easily all the time and you feel sheltered from the world and it’s….nice

-And Beel enjoys hugging you too, because he knows that as long as he’s nearby, you’ll be safe and that’s really all he needs. He wants to be there for you the same way you were there for him when he needed it most and comforting you when you’re having a shitty day is like his full time job

-You could come to Beel with any problem and he would never judge you, no matter what. He’s just really unproblematic and he just wants you to go back to your normal self because it hurts him to see you cry your eyes out. Now, not only are hugs mandatory but holding your hand is too. It’s like hugging…but your hands are doing the hugging

-Definitely even goes to Belphie after a while if he really doesn’t know what to do and that’s how you know he’s desperate to do something. Since the Seventh Born isn’t exactly someone that yields great advice, more so when it comes to other…people….and his twin knows this-

-Beel’s best strategy at the moment is to just maintain some kind of physical contact because he discovered that makes you feel better and it calms you down more than him trying to verbally console you. He even invited you to sleep in his room if you’re comfortable doing so just so you’re not alone. After that one incident, he’s trying to coax you to tell him whenever something is wrong so he can jump in and help, because that’s all he really wants to do ahakenksms

“MC? Did something happen?” He’s honestly taken aback by how shaky you are and how you’re hands are trembling as they’re reaching to connect with his. Without much of a warning, he feels a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach and now he discovers that he doesn’t like seeing you with tears trailing down your face. And he feels worse the longer you wail in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do. So, he wraps his arms around you so tight you think you might explode, strangely comforted by the feeling as he speaks again “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. What can I do to help, MC? We can just stay like this for a while if you want” And when he sees you nod, he proceeds to not move an inch almost the entire night. Obviously, hunger overtook him eventually but he shared his stolen goods with you so can you really complain? Doubtful, not when he hasn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

Belphie:

- Hugging him is a gamble. Realistically speaking, you’re not going to catch him standing upright long enough for you to give him a hug. He’s laying on the floor somewhere, asleep so you shouldn’t expect much from him to begin with. Even if you were to get lucky and stumble upon him while he’s wide awake, he might slump over and succumb to sleep the moment you embrace him because you’re so warm

-Cuddling is a different story altogether. He’d rather shoot himself in the foot than not have you cuddle with him so if you need to be babied for once, he’s a pretty good option to consider

-As usual, he’s in the attic and you go to him because it’s really late and you didn’t want to wake up any of the other brothers. Actually, Belphie is normally awake by dusk so to see him sleep like a log past midnight was quite surprising. You didn’t exactly want to interrupt but if you stayed alone for any longer, you would’ve gone insane. So you shook him awake. And he was understandably confused and probably forgot what planet he was on for a minute when you did so

-Technically, he was half awake and from his point of view, everything must’ve been pretty blurry. He did see you; the problem was that because he was still feeling very sleepy, he was basically in a daze and could only squint at you to try and figure out if you were really there or if he was hallucinating. His suspicion was confirmed soon enough because he reached out after a few seconds and poked your cheek just to check. His face the entire time and the action itself was so amusing that, despite tittering on the edge of a breakdown, you burst out laughing

-Once he came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, real and he wasn’t dreaming, he sighed and opened his arms out for you; a direct invitation to cuddle with him. By now, he likely didn’t even noticed you looked sad because, as I said, he was all over the place but this little ritual you two have was common enough that it got engraved in his memory. Now he does it out of impulse whenever you’re around and he wants attention

-So you basically tackled him and threw yourself on top of him so hard, both of you toppled over on the bed and now you were used as a blanket, with his arms wrapped securely around you; preventing you from getting up. Not that you were planning on doing that anytime soon but moving on-

-You thought he had fallen back asleep, because he went really quiet and he stopped squirming to get comfortable. To be exact, the whole room was rather still and the only thing you could really hear was Belphie’s soft breathing and the rustle of the bedsheets every once in a while. And since it was extremely dark as well, you couldn’t see a thing either so it felt like the best place to let go of your stress

-It’s not like you were making much noise but as I said, the seventh born wasn’t sleeping just yet. And he wouldn’t be able to because it was obvious to him now that something was wrong. He believed that he was bearing witness to something that should’ve been a lot more private than this so he didn’t say anything. You should have your moment, let you have a chance to recollect your thoughts and the next day, he might ask you

-It was too much to handle. It’s not like he was gonna get any sleep unless he knew your problem was solved otherwise he might get nightmares all night. Besides, if you’re crying this much, then something terrible must’ve happened. You realised he was awake when he gave your entire body a small squeeze, as if to reassure you and you froze because did you just wake him up???? Or worse, did he hear all that sobbing you were doing????

-Hugging him is similar to hugging a pillow. He’s soft and squishy and warm and it’s impossible to resist him when rest at a time like this is so tempting. His fingers running over your pact mark once or twice, as if to remind you that he’s right there and low whispers describing the best dream he ever had about you, hoping to distract you for long enough to help you fall asleep

-To him, it doesn’t make a difference if a family member died or if you’re just having a bad day. All he knows is that you’re having a lot of emotional problems because of either one and as a result, you need a shoulder to lean on. He’s glad that you trust him enough to let him assist and if it was up to him, he would keep cuddling you forever. You’ve already suffered enough so let him take care of you this time around, OK?

“Dumbass, why are you crying?” The gentleness of his words was a clear contrast to that quick insult he shoved at the beginning of his statement, though you couldn’t hear any malice behind it and the fact that he really cared about what happened to cause you to struggle with your emotions so badly, would’ve made you wail even harder. However, he managed to silence you pretty well because he kept speaking and you wanted to listen; you wanted to hear what he had to say so you reduced your sobs and you sat quietly enough to do just that. Belphie flipped you over, now with him on top and you underneath and he laid there, cheek sloshed against yours as he sleepily mumbled out more praise for you, “MC, are you tired? You should go to bed, you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, you can tell me what the problem is and I’ll help. I promise-I’ll even get up early for you. Just…please calm down. I don’t want to see you crying yourself to sleep ever again. I’ll stay here the entire time, alright? And I’ll make sure you have nice dreams tonight MC…just let me hold you…”

[valiantsword]

     the way she speaks takes his breath away.  as if she’s digging deep inside his head to pull out those emotions.  someone can guess.  someone can talk about the loneliness he may feel but few can put the level of emotion behind those words that tells him they’ve experienced the same thing.  andy is the one he hears it from the most.  surprisingly, from booker, too.  or, maybe not too surprisingly since he refused to walk away from his family and it turned around to kick him in the ass.  not that he blames the french-man.  arthur held on a little while not knowing any better but he never divulged what morgawse had done.  he killed his attacker and kept everything else secret.  had the war in camlann not erupted the king would’ve found another way to quietly slip off before any damage was done to his family.

     he still misses guinevere.  that was a hole in his heart time had never healed.  at this point, arthur sincerely doubted it would.  instead, the edges scabbed over and he learned to live without that giant piece of himself.  he learned, though.  the lessons he  learned from both his partners were things he still strived for until this very day, even if they weren’t applied to sexual or romantic scenarios.  better to give someone the benefit of the doubt then cut them off at the knees.

     slowly, arthur sits up.  while astoria so eloquently describes the loneliness in his heart one knee is pulled to his chest so he can hug it.  images of myrddin come to him when they’re both sitting at the round table with flagons of mead sitting in front of them.  everyone else was sleeping, which was when they spent a lot of time trying to make the hard decisions.

     death happens, my love, myrddin would remind him.  such a simple statement.  he might as well have been saying the sun was going to rise the next morning.  think about the lives we need to save.

     the immortal pushes to his feet, letting the words slide over him.  he wanders towards the hotel door to peek through the little sight-hole.  everything looked clear so he slid the lock and clicked in the chain.  precaution because he’d been caught without a gun.

     “ back when i was in the…army, “ a brief hesitation because arthur is hellbent on continuing the vulnerability.  each piece of astoria was a gift he’d hold on to for eternity.  the least he could do was share pieces of him in exchange.  and yet, that giant neon immortal sign over his head still hadn’t turned on so bits of his story needed to be adjusted to make sense.  did he know how modern army was structured?  no.  not even in cornwall.  hopefully, she didn’t either.  “ my second was a beautiful tactician.  scary, in fact.  the things he could come up with to maximize our gains and their losses was… i don’t think i’ll ever see anything like it again.  at the same time, he was more than willing to sacrifice a few pawns for the bigger picture.  ‘ one life for hundreds, arthur.  two lives for thousands. ‘  so simple. “

     he makes it to the chair on the opposite side of the room, digging his beretta from beneath the dirty shirt and jeans.  casually, he checks to make sure there’s a bullet in the barrel then clicks the safety back on.  since he’s wearing sweatpants he can’t exactly slip it into his waistband so he slips it back in the holster.  arthur carries it with him to the bathroom where he grabs his boots as opposed to grabbing the knife itself.

     “ except, it’s like a bad yelp review, yeah?  all i think of is that one face he wants to sacrifice.  a face i’ve probably sat at a table with.  maybe had a drink with.  what have we already survived together.  that one negative deserves to be acknowledged and we kept, “ arthur shrugs.  through all the talking he’s made it back to the side of the bed he’d been laying on.  he bends over, setting the boots next to the night stand so he can grab the knife if he needs to.  at this point he doesn’t honestly anticipate it’ll come to some cinematic hotel fight.  if anything, they’ll get attacked beyond the walls.  out in the open?  in a crowd?  hard to say without knowing who.

     the holster is set next to the lamp on what he now keeps thinking of as his side of the bed.  it’s unbuttoned for a quick draw.  if he were by himself he’d just set the thing right out in the open but there is this part of his brain that wants to dampen the implications of having a gun so close even knowing astoria is fully capable is protecting herself.

     weapons in place, arthur plops himself back on the bed.  he’s on his back, with his feet flat on the duvet so his knees are bent.  both his arms shove under the pillow to prop him up that extra little bit of height.  he smiles because she gets it.  in her own way.  something tells him astoria’s view of death and loneliness is different than how he’s come to frame it but she gets it in a way no one else has been able to.  that lifts a weight off his chest he didn’t even know he had.  for all the shared experiences he had with the other immortals even their views on death were different from his own.  so much so that they didn’t get it.  not like astoria does.

     “ as soon as you say the word, birdy, i will gladly act on it. “  because there is still that part of him that wants to hear that ‘ okay ‘ before he does anything.  but, he’s also enjoying the pace they’re going at.  does he want her naked?  absolutely.  their conversations, however, have been just as heady.

     the vineyard perks his ears up.  “ to be painfully honest, i’m more a whiskey and beer kind of guy.  i know very little of wine beyond it being alcoholic grape juice.  desi, though.   he’s the one who introduced me to the gemischter satz but i am glad the merlot ended up being a good shot in the dark. “  his smile is the most genuine it’s been in as long as he can remember.  “ the way you talk about the vineyard makes me wonder if you’ve ever considered going down that career path.  life of grapes instead of adventure? “

     the immortal offhandedly wonders if that’s a way to stay dead.  toss his body in a freezer while he’s regenerating so that it just doesn’t happen.  or, would it still?  boiling sounded more painful but more practical.  could he regenerate if the blood evaporated?  what a morbid train of thought.  keeps him from wondering about whether he should comment on the engagement.  did he bring up his family again?  would it even help to talk to guinevere?  honestly, no, but there is a part of him that thinks astoria deserves that kind of honesty.

     “ magic’s always made me curious.  i had a babysitter who was a druid and she’d talk about all sorts of things that i‘ve always chalked up to fairytales.  never mentioned freezing or boiling anything but i do remember a few scrapes that healed a little faster than my mother expected. “  nimue would talk of sprites and faeries and the energy that connected all things.  uther respected it.  maybe he knew something he’d never told arthur.  magic certainly would’ve been nice to know about in his early years as an immortal even if it’s not the answer he was looking for.

     “ private contractor, yeah.  mercenary.  same difference.  this is definitely it.  there’s this part of me that wants a family again but, “ he shrugs into the pillows.  “ rather be doing?  never had a hobby.  fighting.  it’s always been fighting in one way or another.  if another option slapped me in the face i’d never know it.  i tried…walked away for a few years because someone talked me out of it and i started dabbling in a few business ventures.  didn’t work out. “

There's something all too understandable in him, now. Astoria takes note of the tension, waxing and waning in cycles, and she considers everything left unspoken, realizing with mild dismay that she thinks she could finish what she thinks he won't. For a moment she watches him, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and when she speaks next it's almost as if she's testing her theory. To recognize herself in another person is always a little agonizing, but to recognize so much—

"There's something comfortable in it," she says. "Being that oppressively lonely, I mean. You know what to expect. You don't have to worry about being left behind, for whatever reason, if you don't let anyone keep up with you in the first place." Their individual relationships with death seem to be vastly different, at the very least. Death is an old friend to her, now, preferring to stand at her front door rather than risk ejection from her home. She has been surrounded by it since she was a girl. There is no space, she thinks, for fear of death when death is what gives her power. She always knew there would come a day when she wore someone else's bones. She can't quite tell exactly what has passed between Arthur and death, but she doubts it's been so warm, so familial, with him as it has with her.

Even so... "I imagine it's about a thousand times worse when you're responsible for anyone else. It doesn't matter how many times you've seen it, or how hard you work to yourself for it: watching someone die is hell. And it's worse when you know you were responsible, somehow." She had laughed, when she killed them, and then she'd wept, and she'd wept, and she'd wept, desperate and frightened and feeling very, very young. It had been the only way to survive. It had still broken something in her. "Sometimes I think that's part of what makes it hard to imagine anything serious with somebody who doesn't get that. Like—it doesn't matter the circumstances, or what you've done in the aftermath, but once that blood is on your hands, it's there. And you know if you touch someone who couldn't handle that, you'll stain them, and they might not recover from it."

When did this get so serious? Why doesn't it bother her more? She tries to remember the last time she had such an honest conversation with someone, anyone, but she can't.

"And then the lying—Christ, trying to remember all the details you fill in to make up for the details they can't know? It's hell. At some point you decide that getting close enough to anyone that you should be honest with them makes you the unforgivable kind of sadist, or masochist, or both."

There's something all too understandable in him, now. Astoria takes note of the tension, waxing and waning in cycles, and she considers everything left unspoken, realizing with mild dismay that she thinks she could finish what she thinks he won't. For a moment she watches him, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and when she speaks next it's almost as if she's testing her theory. To recognize herself in another person is always a little agonizing, but to recognize so much—

"There's something comfortable in it," she says. "Being that oppressively lonely, I mean. You know what to expect. You don't have to worry about being left behind, for whatever reason, if you don't let anyone keep up with you in the first place." Their individual relationships with death seem to be vastly different, at the very least. Death is an old friend to her, now, preferring to stand at her front door rather than risk ejection from her home. She has been surrounded by it since she was a girl. There is no space, she thinks, for fear of death when death is what gives her power. She always knew there would come a day when she wore someone else's bones. She can't quite tell exactly what has passed between Arthur and death, but she doubts it's been so warm, so familial, with him as it has with her.

Even so... "I imagine it's about a thousand times worse when you're responsible for anyone else. It doesn't matter how many times you've seen it, or how hard you work to yourself for it: watching someone die is hell. And it's worse when you know you were responsible, somehow." She had laughed, when she killed them, and then she'd wept, and she'd wept, and she'd wept, desperate and frightened and feeling very, very young. It had been the only way to survive. It had still broken something in her. "Sometimes I think that's part of what makes it hard to imagine anything serious with somebody who doesn't get that. Like—it doesn't matter the circumstances, or what you've done in the aftermath, but once that blood is on your hands, it's there. And you know if you touch someone who couldn't handle that, you'll stain them, and they might not recover from it."

When did this get so serious? Why doesn't it bother her more? She tries to remember the last time she had such an honest conversation with someone, anyone, but she can't.

"And then the lying—Christ, trying to remember all the details you fill in to make up for the details they can't know? It's hell. At some point you decide that getting close enough to anyone that you should be honest with them makes you the unforgivable kind of sadist, or masochist, or both."

His honesty is refreshing. Simple, sweet, no unnecessary details, nothing to make her feel like she needs to put on a show, nothing to write a script for her to follow. Her lips curl up into a smile that's impossibly fond. "Be honest with me for a moment, älskling. Do I strike you as a woman who does much of anything just for politeness' sake? If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't ask. If I didn't want you to like me, I'd be spectacularly unpleasant. And if I didn't want you to act on it, I'd stop inviting you to do just that.

"Not that I mean to rush you," she adds, knocking a knuckle gently against his knee. "I don't mean this at all unkindly, but you seem about as fucked up as I am. Similar kind of fucked up, for what it's worth, but I get it. I think I've been more honest with you over the last three days than I have been with anyone else since I started having things worth hiding, and there's still plenty we haven't even touched. I'm not bothered by your secrets if you're not bothered by mine—honesty doesn't mean full disclosure. But the point is, take your time. I'm enjoying this. I'm not going anywhere any time soon. The point is also that this bed is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the floor, even if we're not putting the mattress to proper use, and as long as you don't mind that I don't really have a concept of personal space when I'm asleep, there's no reason not to share it."

This much, at least, she knows how to put into words. Astoria sits upright with a quiet groan, already regretting moving from so comfortable a position, and she picks up the bottles, examining them curiously before she opens the merlot. "My grandmother's family had a vineyard in Friuli. It's still functional—small, mostly just for the family and friends. My uncle runs it now. Well," she amends, laughing, and she pours herself a glass, "my aunt runs it. Their boys are fourteen now and they're curious enough that they can help. We make a beautiful pinot grigio, have for generations, but when my grandparents got married, my grandfather insisted on expanding, and now, we make a damn good merlot."

She swirls the wine in the glass before she bows her head and breathes it in, and after a beat she looks up at him and she smiles so widely it almost hurts. A taste of the wine confirms what she suspects, and she wrinkles her nose, pleased. "We make a damn good merlot," she repeats, "but this is better. Wonderful choice. Do you want a glass?"

As to his question about magic—"Eskil's curse is still beyond what I can do, but I'm learning. It's like a complicated knot. I'm only interested in untying it if I can tie it again when I'm done. My grandmother taught me how to do it. It's called thaumaturgy—it's the study of magic. Even magic works on a system of internal logic. It's just about figuring out how that system functions.

"I like that you're interested in this." There's something almost shy in her expression now, a hint of color in her cheeks, but she ignores it. "I don't often get to talk about it like this. It comes up in business, but it's rare that I've got an opportunity to get into it beyond that. The last time I even thought about discussing this with somebody so personally was... shit, eight years ago? I was engaged," she confesses. "We'd been together four years, engaged for two, I kept putting off wedding plans, and he figured I was just acting my age. Any twenty-one-year-old will have cold feet. I thought about it all the time, but I never told him about any of it. And I never had to say hi honey, sorry I missed your call, I killed a warlord today, but it may not surprise you to know there's no normal way to tell someone you were experimenting with whether or not you could potentially freeze blood, since you already figured out how to boil it."

Whoops. I can boil someone's blood, no, literally, I mean it— is hardly a normal thing to tell someone. She finds she isn't bothered by it. She considers him for a moment, then asks, before she can talk herself out of it, "Is there anything you wish you were doing instead of this? Or is this it for you? What's the appropriate term—private contractor?"

[apparitionism]

Appreciation

A week of appreciation. I wasn’t going to do this, but then I foolishly had An Idea. (Not a good idea.) So I’ll be writing a Bering and Wells... thing. Rather, a series of things. Seven things. The overarching title is, naturally, “Appreciation,” but each piece of the whole will be a thing unto itself. Mostly.

So, okay, here goes with the day one prompt (Dancing), which led me to what I found to be an illuminating quote (from Christgau, below).

Architecture

Robert Christgau, “Writing About Music Is Writing First.” Popular Music 24 (2005): 415–21.

  One of the many foolish things about the fools who compare writing about music to dancing about architecture is that dancing usually is about architecture. When bodies move in relation to a designed space, be it stage or ballroom or living room or gymnasium or agora or Congo Square, they comment on that space whether they mean to or not. The comment is usually oblique, absorbed below normal levels of ratiocination. And it can make itself felt that way, subliminally inflecting the meanings of dwellings, edifices, and meeting places. But if we want to understand it more fully, we’d best reduce it to words.

  And why is that? .... [A]s we’ve been told ad infinitum from Saussure on down, nothing can be reduced to words, not even words. Writing about writing is also like dancing about architecture.

****

Myka knows she’s not the world’s most poetically inclined person, but she understands the figurative, if clichéd, sense in which any relationship is a dance. Some people probably enjoy the literal action as part of that figurative whole, but while Myka as a rule likes to keep her definitions tight—literal—in this case she’s been relieved that the applicability of “dance” to her romance with Helena has been thus far been figurative. She’s been committed, in fact, to ensuring that the “figurative only” condition continues to obtain.

Until.

(Being in, so deeply and inescapably in, a relationship with Helena has run Myka headlong into an inordinately high number of situations that represent such an “until.”)

“Do you remember—” Helena begins one night, as they’re preparing for bed, and Myka cuts her off with a brief “yes.” Given the architecture of her brain, she could hardly help but do so.

Helena, undeterred, continues, “—that hallucinatory retrieval, so long ago, in which the artifact compelled us to dance together?”

“No,” Myka revises. “Aggressively, no.” She puts the aggression into her very posture: her body, she hopes, is refusal.

Helena immediately kicks her poorly set, insufficient legs out from under her: “Liar.”

The kicking: figurative, but effective. Myka has no deniability. “It was terrible,” she says, reexperiencing the frustration, albeit on a smaller scale, both at wanting Helena so desperately and yet seeing no path to having her... and then at being forced to dance. With her. Against her... Myka manages to step back—just barely; it’s a teeter—from entering the memory in its fullness.

“Thus proving my last statement true. Why was it terrible?”

“Because I hate dancing,” Myka says.

“That doesn’t seem to be a lie.” Helena cocks her head—to the right, her “thinking” side. “But does this hate apply in every circumstance?”

“Yes,” Myka says, no hesitation or revision required.

“That too has the ring of truth.” Another head-cock, now (not unexpectedly) left, with an additional raise of chin. That’s the teasing-but-with-an-undercurrent movement. “Yet would it apply even to dancing with me in another circumstance? Given that I’m the putative object of your affection?”

Myka considers keeping her mouth shut but concludes it would most likely be taken the wrong way, given the undercurrent to the tease. Hoping to thread the needle correctly, she says a vaguely interrogative, and hopefully discussion-ending, “No?”

“Perhaps I’ll summon Steve,” Helena says, and it’s a threat—well, “threat”—that identifies the needle as very much not threaded.

If anyone else had ventured such an idea, Myka would have sparked her usual worry about their use of Steve, but he, however strangely, doesn’t seem to mind playing lie detector for Helena. There’s an elusive sweetness to their burgeoning agents-in-the-field partnership; Myka sees it, but she can’t, no matter how she tries, locate its underlying concept.

“Look,” she says, trying to imbue her voice with placation, “even if I wanted to dance with you, which I’m sorry but I don’t, because I hate dancing, I can’t get away from my resentment about having been forced into it by an artifact. I also resent that it was to house music.” She shudders as her brain now rebelliously recreates the experience: earsplitting noise underlain with disturbing vibration, all so loud and so physically overtaking that she could barely formulate any thought at all, despite her desperate need to formulate thought, because her body had found itself forced to press against Helena’s in ways that were infinitely more disturbing and created so much more noise than the music and she could find no way to think herself out.

Helena taps a finger against Myka’s left collarbone, a precise one-two-three-four clearly intended to call Myka back to the present. She says, deftly, “It was at the very least rhythmic. Aggressively.” The echo is playful: a different tack now, jollying. “But tell me,” she continues, still playing, but with focus, “why do you hate dancing?”

Finally, an easy one. “Because I’m terrible at it.”

“What does ‘terrible’ mean in this context?” Less whimsy now: she’s working her way toward something, but Myka can’t tell (and isn’t sure she wants to know) what. “Are you referring to some objective skill level? Some need for instruction? I would think that if one’s partner is willing and able to appreciate one’s movement, one could abandon such—”

“One—and when I say ‘one’ I mean ‘me’—is always observing oneself. Myself. Judging. There’s no such thing as real abandon.”

That gets her a little not-quite-derisive snort. “Of course there is.”

Myka doesn’t—genuinely doesn’t—believe that. Certainly she can move in response to emotion: a twirl to express a settling of satisfaction, a flail of arms to accompany a burst of belonging... but still always with that observing other inside, outside, seeing, evaluating.

That Helena can more fully inhabit a moment is really no surprise. That Helena has a hard time imagining how others’ interiority may differ from hers isn’t much of a surprise either.

Myka sighs and, for the sake of peace, tempers her absolutism with, “Not in public. That’s a bridge too far.”

Helena takes a moment, one involving no tilting of head. It renders her inscrutable. Then she says, “I’m not overly familiar with the American legal system.”

Are they through with dancing as a topic? Myka holds out a (probably vain) hope that they are, so she hurries to offer, “I’m no expert, but I was pre-law for a while, so if you want to know something in particular, maybe I...”

She trails off, for Helena’s head is moving left again as she says, with full disingenuity, “Are you aware of a law restricting dancing to public spaces?”

Myka is both disappointed (that dancing is still the topic) and cautiously pleased (that Helena is inflecting it this way, rather than insisting that Myka revise her feelings about public terpsichory).

Helena goes on, “And yet I doubt such a law exists. Consider a quite private space: for example, a bedroom. In theory, but also, in specific, for here in a bedroom we stand. Certainly it’s a space in which bodies have been known to move.” She says this without a salacious cast, which gifts Myka a quiet space in which to think. About this space. About how Helena moves in it. About how she herself moves in response.

After a time, Helena ventures, “My intent in mentioning that small slice of the past wasn’t to upset you.”

Myka believes her—is happy to believe her. “That’s not my intent either,” she says. “When I respond poorly. To anything... but particularly to a slice.”

“The past has many pitfalls,” Helena says, but not with gloom, as is sometimes the case when the past, as a concept, is at issue.

“It does.” A universal truth, regardless of how it’s said.

Helena shrugs, and she smiles now (her winner’s smile) as she says, “We could dance them away.”

Comedian, Myka thinks, and she laughs. “I honestly don’t think we could. Unless we’re in a musical and I’m not aware of it.”

“Would you be aware of it if we were in a musical?”

“That’s a good question,” Myka says, hoping—obviously against hope, but she goes with it—that they can shift to epistemological inquiry, because Helena does find musicals fascinating... but not all musicals: only the ones in which the numbers simply happen as part of the diegesis. “Like operetta, but more alchemical,” she’s said, and Myka has been glad of her own knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan, as well as her familiarity with the musicals Helena is newly encountering, so as to understand how Helena is thinking her way to an appreciation, how she is enjoying that thinking.

“If that is a good question, then so is this one, I hope.” Helena holds her head still again, offering no preview of whatever utterance will follow. “Might we dance, such that the pitfalls of the past fall away? For the duration of the dance?”

In those words Myka hears the heft of what Helena tries, always, to keep at bay. “You don’t have to work so hard,” she says, meaning, as far as she knows what she means, that Helena could have just asked for what she needed. For Myka does give in when Helena asks, because another of Myka’s commitments, a far more constitutive one, is to trying—trying—to spare Helena the need to work so hard.

A slight right turn of head accompanies Helena’s response: “But what if I’d like to?” She adds a wisp of smile. “Work hard to change your mind,” she clarifies, though she doesn’t need to, and Myka knows she knows it.

Perhaps in response to all that knowledge, Helena extends her arms. “There’s no music,” she says. “You can very easily pretend it isn’t dancing at all.”

The concession is a jewel: a gift Myka is grateful to know for what it is.

She’s grateful because of another thing she knows: she gets things wrong. So, so often, she takes up situations, thinking to bend them into sense, but errs, twisting them wrong... but she can appreciate this. She can appreciate that Helena needs to know that she has worked hard to arrange for those pitfalls to fall away. For the duration of what may or may not be a dance.

Their arms are around each other. This is what is necessary. Regardless of any movement that might literally be defined as dancing, that is the definitional, essential, architecture.

END

Note:

I hope it’s apparent that I appreciate Bering and Wells as themselves—that is, as characters brought into being by Joanne and Jaime. But I appreciate also that “Bering and Wells” (for want of something better to call this televised catalyst and all it encompasses) has (have?) introduced me to invaluable, treasured friends; produced mind-boggling experiences; and all along motivated (forced?) me to do a lot of thinking, including rethinking my own writing, as well as the claiming of authorship, in contexts that extend well beyond the fanfictional.

I’m not going to enumerate the rules—or “rules”—I’ve set for myself here. Just know that there are rules. Writing is hard: sometimes making it an intellectual puzzle greases the wheels; sometimes it makes the wheels throw off sparks of grinding difficulty. This puzzle has worked both ways for me.

I find Bering and Wells to be, quite literally, something else, and I honestly don’t remember or understand how it (they) caught me. I don’t. Since the beginning, I’ve been playing catch-up with my nervous system—“Wait, how did this happen? What actually did happen?”—and the answer is, “Doesn’t matter, just keep writing it down.” This changed my life. And I am trying, always trying, to write like it did. (Having said that, most of these pieces aren’t as coherent/smooth as I’d like. To my shame. Seven is a lot, but that’s no excuse.)

[tommyspeakycap]

travelling england squad headcanons my exhausted brain just thought of

jordan pickford - won’t forget anything important but will get very confuddled and mixed up with stuff when he gets to boarding. hands his passport at the wrong time, can’t find his boarding pass when it is actually in his hand etc. talks really loud and does not stop talking to the person next to him on flights

harry maguire - won’t let anyone carry his bags for him bc he doesn’t want to be a bother. will have his boarding pass and passport ready to pull out whenever needed but will never just carry it in case it gets lost. mild dad on holiday vibes but discretely and will often be found in disbelief that some of these boys have survived as long as they have. will barely speak on the plane, doesn’t mind being sat next to jp bc he’s learned to tune his voice out.

kieran trippier - dad on holiday™️. will always have his passport and boarding pass at the ready, no muss no fuss, will go at the back of the group to make sure his children (he is responsible for mason, declan and jadon. also jesse but only when marcus isn't there) and he will inevitably pick up mason's passport when he drops it while being an idiot with declan and doesn't notice. will sit with the quietest person and/or alone so he can sleep. will under no circumstances sit with pickers - has to be at least three rows away and will be monitoring behaviour.

jordan henderson - another dad on holiday™️ but funnier (he is instead responsible for jack, phil and trent). gets annoyed when other people are messy/leave mess. probably takes passports off those likely to lose them right after they pass through customs and gives them back only when they approach customs at the other airport. will sit at the back of the plane alone so he can listen to alicia keys in peace.

harry kane - never late but also never quite on time but nobody says anything because he’s never the last one there. will usually congregate with The Dads and doesn't say much (read; he is usually found next to harry maguire both standing and enjoying the silence bc girldads)

mason mount - chronically late, always last to catch up while trippier taps his foot and checks his watch. will do the innocent mason giggle and get away with it. flight attendants think he’s adorable and airport workers love him because he travels with two basically empty bags cos he travels so light. will sit next to declan to begin with and eat all of his snacks while dec sleeps. they end up getting separated by one of the dads when they’re being too loud and/or fighting over the snacks mason has already devoured.

declan rice - waits for mason no matter what, packs extra snacks because he knows for a fact mason will (and does) eat most of his. is slightly scared to sleep on the plane bc of all the things they do to wake each other. he and mason somehow end up with each other’s passports and nearly don’t get through the border. defo has passive aggressive fights with ben over who gets to sit with mason and declan plays the 'I've known you longer' card that gets mason every time.

jack grealish - gets upset when ben and declan fight over sitting next to mason because chilly is supposed to be his bestie so he goes in a huff that hendo has to sort. 100% always has his passport in the front pouch of his bag (put there by hendo) so that when they get to security and he starts patting himself down freaking out and thinking he’s left it somewhere, his dad Hendo can tell him exactly where it is. annoys trippier because he drags his heels everywhere he walks and is constantly found asking; “hey has anyone seen my hairband” when it’s on his wrist.

ben chilwell - very easy going yet simultaneously anxious traveler. does not like how late mason leaves every, is NOT fond of how little he packs and will get antsy when take off time is near and people are still mulling around. he also gets annoyed when people ask him to borrow stuff but will never outwardly show it. he packs for every eventuality and believes everyone should be doing the same. films everyone, is low-key everyone’s favourite to sit with.

phil foden - gets upset when he’s told he not allowed to do keepy ups on the plane, absolutely will not have anything but a window seat, gets funny looks going through security and people often mistake him for much younger than he is. doesn’t mind who he sits next to as long as it’s not someone boring. is generally not a problem for The Travelling Dads except he's easily distracted and is susceptible to being left behind as he is smol plus mason and declan are hard work for kieran.

marcus rashford - oh my days when he’s alone he’s so quiet and then whenever jesse is there as well the two of them are insufferable. between mason and dec and jesse and rashy, jordan is glad for alicia keys through those noise cancelling headphones. will get annoyed with jesse and they WILL end up hurting each other and making up multiple time.

jesse lingard - so fully of energy at all times and nobody can figure out why. annoys rashy when he’s trying to sleep and that’s when they always end up in fights that nearly get them separated by harry maguire who is very used to putting up with their antics anyway. tries to convince them all to learn his celebration and spends the whole time messaging marcus and pouting when his bestie isn't there with him.

john stones - him and Kyle are basically joined at the hip as they r best friends. they always pre-anticipated and planned to sit together on the plane. he has a sixth sense and will physically be able to feel it when they lose phil (was an issue for the time he wasn't in the squad and John was like oh my god we've lost phil!) only to realise he wasn't ever with them. is very protective and always worries about forgetting things that he definitely has.

kyle walker - rarely acts his age but is kind of levelled out by john and can sometimes be very irritating in the same way that people get irritated with jesse because they're very loud. can often be found next to john and reassuring everyone he's faster than Raz. will forget things he define tally needs which pisses off John (because he asked a million times to make sure he had his boots) and gives chilly so much second-hand stress that he gets chest pains.

trent alexander-arnold - probably wants to sit next to hendo but he completely refuses (and sometimes feel guilty for it but he needs his alicia keys alone time). is quite quiet in comparison to some of the other younger ones but is equally as forgetful. will fume about the 'inflation' of the meal deal prices in the airport whsmiths and despite knowing he probs shouldn't cos international rivals, he spends a lot of time texting andy robertson.

[yuttikkele]

sorry I’ve had to wait until I have enough time to respond to this post lol

also sorry I keep bringing mcyt comparisons in I know you don’t get the references, my brain just won’t stop talking about them ;0;

i can handle a lil bit of angst if it means viewing someone’s hard work and care of OCs so if you wish to show them off I am all for it :D and also, I like both fan and original original characters, I don’t really separate them I sorta just see them as the same thing

sorry i don’t know anything about vampire knight BUT it is good to know you have a purpose for all that suffering

and ah, an over-analyzer, i see. we need people like you because i barely overanalyze. Those are two very cool story ideas :00 alas I do not have a solution for you on that whole genre thing either. And yeah the relating to a character you like negatively makes sense! It’s like an anti-projection. Or, just negative projection probably I don’t think there’s anything anti about it I just wanted to use the word anti.

ye the whole soulmates just to be soulmates thing makes sense. there’s a time and place for unfleshedout stories, and actual thought out ones!!

as for homestuck, if you ever want to read it, do NOT read it on the official site, reading the unofficial collections (which you do have to download) is way better (I didn’t do that but also I didn’t know because I refused to look at the fandom until I was finished reading). yeah it does span across a couple different mediums, mostly it’s just comic but there are some videos and games, so if that’s not for you, it’s not for you. BUT homestuck is really more about the experience of reading rather than the actual story (I know I mentioned the moral of the story but that is simply just a different thing from the story) since i don’t think you’d get the story no matter how it’s formatted. even if it was purely “chronological.” It has some pretty epic worldbuilding that is barely explained tho, but it’s mostly comedy. Anyways yeah, mostly an experience.

And SMPs are just like watching any gaming content dw. skephalo is referring to the friendship of Skeppy and Badboyhalo! They met when Skeppy was trying to troll Bad for a video, and they have been best friends ever since! which to me sounds like a real “platonic soulmates” thing which is why I mentioned them lol.

ye I knew Dave Strider (the one in red and wearing sunglasses with the older brother) the most out of all the characters before reading (COUGH COUGH it’s because of TommyInnit)

also you can’t just mention and epic namlessshipping comic and not give the link :00

Maybe I haven’t seen many ACTUAL best friends to lovers stories where they actually end up together in the end, because when I think of friends to lovers, the third guy is usually never an issue. Yeah it’s probably because i’m thinking about ships I have, and let me tell you, not a ONE of those ships is canon soooooo. i Will instead tell you what my mind goes to when i think of friends to lovers. right, so it’s these two people, and they like each other, but they don’t know that they like each other, and they put each other over their “actual” love interest all the time, and people think they’re dating, but they’re like “whaaaaat nooooo” and when they find out that their feelings aren’t just admiration THEN we go into the weird pining stuff.

Or like, there just doesn’t have to be a love triangle at all. Or really any conflict. Just the friends realizing they more than friends.

but for the love triangle “one is obviously not an option” thing, yeah man I HATE that. Like what do you think? I’m being fooled by this? I’ll have you know, I’m not enjoying it either like you would watching the protag fight a fight they’re obviously gonna win. I am getting second hand embarrassment. And I just have the perfect example because I’m rewatching it right now and I KNOW it’s gonna happen soon and I am dreading it (and I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this yet also sorry if you don’t know svtfoe) and it is starco (star x Marco). They made Star date Tom and like, woah dude I’m TOTALLY gonna believe Star’s gonna stay with her EX BOYFRIEND as endgame. And then they’re actually a good pair??? But you still KNOW it’s not gonna happen. Like yeah guys this will TOTALLY develop these characters as people more and it WONT make us seem like we’re ripping up a PERFECTLY GOOD relationship at all!! And Tom and Marco actually have chemistry going on and we KNOW star and Marco like each other and I’m pretty sure everyone in the fandom would’ve rathered the endgame be them all dating each other. On another note, Bro starco could be SO much better than it is, but it was just handled so poorly. It’s still a Good ship it’s just.. missed potential. Also I genuinely don’t think Star would be as jealous as she is I KNOW she’s not my character, but I FEEL it.

the one time I’ll let the love triangle short term dating thing go is with miraculous because 1. it was only like one episode where they were dating other people, so it’s bearable. 2. Kagami was just sorta like “let’s date” and Adrien was just like “ok might as well try!” since who he was pining for had rejected him oh so many times. 3. Marinette was just trying to have a successful love life, and she saw adrien wasn’t working, and that Luka took an interest in her so “ok might as well try!” And they both saw that didn’t work almost immediately. It was more of a test thing for both of them instead of an “IM MOVING ON” obvious lie.

and yeah, I say if a polycule can solve a love triangle: it’s not a good love triangle. It’s one of those fake flimsy ones. Unless, ofc, bringing out the cheesy rule, you want it to be cheesy.

the only ship I know of a successful best friends to rivals/enemies to lovers is catradora, and sadly I have not been able to watch all of spop yet. But it sounds like I would really REALLY like that ship. Especially since there’s a catgirl involved.

also yes i agree rivals does not equal enemies, but just to be clear, I put the two together because I like both of those tropes lol. And above in the castradora statement, i don’t know if they count as rivals or enemies really… like when you’re on opposing sides, but you’re not the main villain? Idk. I feel like they’re more rivals.

and honestly I guess I’ve SUBCONSCIOUSLY thought about the bully ≠ rival thing, but like not consciously of my own accord so now I AM thinking about it. Like marinette and Chloe. obviously Chloe bullies marinette, but marinette stands her ground and sorta rivals her in that way? But marinette wasn’t like that pre-miraculous so.. like would that rivalry even still count if it’s based off a bullied childhood? Yk what I’m also gonna bring up the forbidden bnha and bakudeku because they have the same thing goin on. Deku was obviously bullied by Bakugou, but once Deku stands up for himself they’re.. rivals?? Maybe?? I think that’s how it works, idk Imma see your opinion on it 😭😭

Blue does bully red, but I think we can assume red can hold his own seeing as he did a number on Blue. And also it’s not much of a bully thing since they were childhood friends then suddenly blue was like “I’m gonna be mean to you now” which really just sounds like blue has a crush. I gotta clarify that I’m NOT saying all kids that are mean to other people have crushes because I HATE when people say that, but, yk sometimes when kids get crushes they ARE mean; it happens.

that former friend of yours sounds.. very confusing XD hopefully now she knows how to make a more fulfilling ship happen??

It's weird to me people would count both game reguri and manga reguri as the same ship but not palletshipping. I would argue game and manga reguri are as different from each other as either are to palletshipping because the characters' personalities and backstories are totally different. Hell, manga reguri doesn't even have the childhood friends plot point shared between game reguri and palletshipping, so the dynamic's completely different. I feel like they're all different ships but counterparts to each other.

i thought that the fandom had already come to a consensus, and i was just unaware, but i see now that i have struck up a whole Discussion.

Btw anon I agree with you completely! Like I said in the og post, I thought palletshipping would fall under reguri since it’s another counterpart of the ship. Originalshipping and namelessshipping ARE just as different as they are from palletshipping, you’re right!

alas, what i am trying to figure out is if a majority of people classify palletshipping as reguri or not…

[worstloki]

Okay, this is gettin’ real screwed up here.

I watch a lot of TV. Probably too much. And I’ve seen characters beaten to their knees before, sometimes even with collars. And yeah, there’s usually someone standing over them, and it’s been a woman sometimes. The kind of scene we got in episode 5 of Loki is not new ground.

But here’s the thing. In EVERY OTHER SCENE I can remember like this, the person kneeling is the hero. They’ve been brought down, fully humbled before the sneering villain, and in a few minutes something will happen to get them back on their feet again. It’s usually a tense moment, a “what if they break?” that makes you want the hero to win. You aren’t rooting for, or even liking in some cases, the person standing. You’re cheering for the person on their knees.

This doesn’t seem to be the case with the Loki show. Yes, the viewers may be rooting for Loki, but there’s no hatred for Sif there. She’s not proved herself to be a cold, heartless villain, ruthlessly pounding the hero until all he can do is kneel at her feet.

Except…she did kind of do that. But it isn’t treated as something bad. It’s treated more as something Loki deserved, in my opinion. The show wants us to feel like he deserved to get repeatedly beaten up and told horrible things, just for cutting off a lock of Sif’s hair. I’ll grant, it’s peanuts compared to what happened to him in the mythology. But it’s still bad. Especially since they had him acknowledge it, repeat her cruel words back. They’re playing it off as if Loki is still the villain by himself, and is only good because of other people- Mobius, mostly, but Sif is part of that.

That’s not the way Loki’s character is. In the comics particularly, his biggest arcs are always about reinventing the labels given to him, changing “villain” into something good, something he can use, and doing it by himself. Yes, there’s outside influence, but ultimately Loki is the one who decided to change.

The show is not letting him do that. The show is portraying him as a stubborn jackass who refuses to change until other people show him the light- either with psychological torture presented as therapy, or with beating him up a bunch of times until he gives in. The show and its characters are forcing Loki to become good- they aren’t showing him doing it by himself. He is not becoming one of the good guys, he’s being essentially enslaved by them, and the show is passing it off as somehow all that good influence finally rubbed off on Loki’s cold, villainous heart. That’s why him betraying Mobius was shown as so bad even though Loki barely knew him and had been psychologically tortured by him- Mobius is written as a character who can choose to be good, and Loki is written as a character who must be forced to be good.

And something about an entire show revolving around an independent character being treated as a villain, literally enslaved by the “good guys” (back when the show still wanted us to think the TVA weren’t shady as all hell), beaten to his knees with a collar around his neck until he accepts that he deserves to be alone because he isn’t “good” like everybody else…that doesn’t go down right for me.

The TVA being presented in not just a neutral but often reliable light is something I thought would change once Loki literally called out their propaganda and Sylvie called them fascists, but, for some reason the authoritarian genocidalists are not being presented as a bad thing and it irks me too.

It's especially weird because of the way what Loki claims to have wanted by making choices for people and what Mobius claims the TVA do ARE THE EXACT SAME THINGS, except Loki, until the show, hadn't done that of his own volition and was being tortured during the invasion and is treated terribly for something he didn't even succeed in doing, while the TVA successfully erase events on a mass scale but are presented as having a higher (or at best, - equal) moral ground.

The exact same thing was done in Ragnarok where Loki's "turning point" from a tricksy villainous scoundrel happened because Thor left him frying on the ground and gave him a pep talk filled with lies and general slander about how he could be better - and people see that as good because Thor is framed as a hero, and it's because instead of accepting Loki is a complex character they take what the narrative tells at face value and that is that Loki fights the protagonist(s) so he's bad.

I personally don't like the narrative pushing a character that is canonically an abuse victim and attempted suicide and was tortured right after as someone who needs fixing because he's lusting for power and needs it to gain a sense of control during a retcon which is occurring for the sake of calling him a complete bad guy who needs to change (probably because no actual original character development could be thought of?) after he was just confirmed as queer and colloquially (i assume) called a narcissist because of twisted love.

That he deserves to be alone was presented neutrally as a joke even as he was repeatedly getting beaten to the ground, and then both people he could call friends were removed from his immediate vicinity right after.

Loki isn't being presented as a character that has done a huge mix of good and bad in the movies, he's being presented as an oft incompetent idiot that deserves what he gets because he shouldn't have run away from captors, or he cut Sif's hair, or he killed his mother, or he dared to think he had any importance or could do something good, because the truth is he's an evil lying scourge.

"But maybe," Mobius says, "Maybe he wants to mix it up. Sometimes you get tired of playing the same part. Is that possible? He can change?" And everyone's already forgotten that moments before the mission Mobius said to Loki's face that the TVA has pruned a lot of Loki variants because he's so nice! look! he has hope in him when no one else does! It's also easy to forget the "and hey, if it doesn't work, I'll delete him myself," right after because the guy was smiling through it and the scene is followed by Loki really badly trying to explain the logic of being a trickster who everyone knows is a trickster.

A lot of people payed more attention in Ragnarok than to the other Thor movies so it's not a new retcon and people seem fine with the extremely strange take that 'loki is bad but he can do good sometimes,' because the character is more animated and acts foolish and that's generally more fun for comedy, which is fair for people to prefer imo, people find different things entertaining.

But I do solidly hope the show doesn't go that way though and takes a side with Loki on the narrative stance eventually because I've seen a lot of people who just. miss that the TVA's concept is bad. And those who think they're "reforming" Loki. As if the guy needs anything but a break at this point lmao he only got away from Thanos like 2 days ago please just let him rest for a bit he's a fail villain and it's cringe to have your supposed 1st open queer character get beaten to a pulp by Sif and then put wack sexualizing shots for it too :/

it's like the show itself is trying to sell the angle of "Loki is a villain" and I'm a clown who is still wanting that to be intentional because if it is? It could be amazing and playing with how different parties are framed would be s p e c t a cu l ar and could encourage people to reassess the hero coding in other movies including ones Loki was previously in - but we're reaching the last two episodes and I don't feel like that'll happen.

I feel like even if Loki does reach the end of the show as a transformed person it'll be done leaving the audience with "perhaps you're not so bad after all, Loki," and then also give credit to Mobius or Sylvie or whoever else was involved, simply because as even of yet Loki hasn't taken on a lead role in the show. I'd argue he hasn't really contributed anything worthwhile to plot either. As you've said, he's being shown as someone who needs to change but isn't really motivated to. Aw man they better not make romantic love the reason he wants to change.

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

regret | deacon x sole survivor

“i don’t feel the same way, charmer.” his voice was barely a whisper.

sole felt a lump grow in their throat as they tried to fight back the tears that threatened to escape. they tried to let out a simple, “okay, i understand,” but only silence filled the air.

deacon knows. he catches the tears building up in their eyes and knows their voice is silently attempting to scratch its way out.

he desperately wants to stop their pain, wipe their tears and remind them that he thinks no differently of their relationship, but something in his heart tugs as sole fights back to hide their vulnerability from him. “i’m sorry.” is all he truly lets out because in reality, his words are just as lost as soles own.

to sole, his words become a blur. their knees become weak as their vision becomes clouded with tears they refuse to let out.

‘i’ll give them time,’ he thinks but his feet struggle to find movement as he continues to stare down at sole, speechless for the first time in a long while.

before he could make a move, sole rushes out of the room, not sparing him a second glance. the sound of the door shutting behind him breaks deacon out of his trance, grounding him back to reality.

a tinge of regret pokes at his heart and he silently pushes it away, knowing that this was for the best. he didn’t have feelings for them and it was nothing but the truth.

or so he thought.

-

the next few weeks are almost a blur for him as his partner goes mia from the commonwealth. the first two weeks, he tries to let it be, convincing himself that sole might’ve needed some time to themselves to sort their feelings out, so he lets them. seeing them might be the last thing they need, so he tries to fight the urge to do so.

yet, as time goes by, the worry in his heart rapidly grows when they’re announced as missing by the minutemen. he grows unnaturally quiet upon hearing their words and feels himself grow weak at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to his partner.

searching far and wide did almost nothing for him and only flared his concern. there was little to no clues of their disappearance and the hope that he would find them sooner or later began to slowly deteriorate.

deacon takes in a deep breath, trying to soothe his mind of all the concern and regret. how could he let it get this bad? why couldn’t he at least check up on them day to day instead of running away?

deep down, he knew the truth of it all. it screamed volumes to him and no matter how much he tried to silence it, it grew louder with every passing second. he avoided sole as much as they avoided him because deacon refused to confront the truth between them both. he never provided closure because he never knew how to.

and the more he refused to face the reality of the situation, the longer the days stretched. he found himself pushing everyone away, spending countless nights with tears streaming down his face, hoping someday sole would just turn up on the railroads doorstep. he didn’t care if they forgave him or not— he just wanted to see them safe.

tonight, he found himself with a bottle in his hand, hunching over the counter as he drank the night. he silently thanked lady luck for landing him in an almost empty bar for no one to catch the state he put himself in. unbeknownst to him, a certain mercenary watched his back from the minute he’s entered the bar till the very last drop of his nth bottle.

“you know, i don’t think that’s a very healthy thing to do.” deacon looked over his shoulder, and though his vision continued to spin, he automatically recognized the annoying face that pestered him.

“let a man ‘ave fun, asshole.” he slurred, trying to push out a grin. maccready rolled his eyes and occupied the seat near deacon, folding his arms.

“i’m serious.” mac pulled the bottle away from his hands, tossing it to the bin nearby.

“hey, i was-!” before he could finish, the mercenary cut him off, not wanting to listen to a word that left his mouth. “do you wanna talk about it?”

his words cut through the facade he tried to pull off and deacon immediately fell silent upon his words. “i know we don’t meet eye to eye all that much, but i hate to see you like this.”

as much as he wanted to lie to his face, continue his said facade, he wasn’t physically able to upkeep that image anymore. it was extremely tiring, especially with everything going on. he let out a sigh and allowed his head to fall on his arms that rested on the table. “you wouldn’ understan’.”

theres a pregnant pause, but he eventually responds. “i don’t, but i could try.”

it takes him a few moments to decide whether or not to confide in someone, especially maccready of all people. to his dismay, the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself from letting it out.

“you won’t tell?” it’s a point of no return— he knows — but for some reason, he doesn’t take it back. was the consequences of actions finally getting to him? probably. he didn’t have time to think as maccready let out a small, but shocked, “of course.”

and so he lets it out— not everything — but enough for maccready to get the message. how it all lead up this point and how it contributed to their disappearance.

“i think i made a mistake.” he says, voice barely a whisper. “i made a huge fucking mistake and i don’t know what to do.”

mac looks down at agent with sympathy, detecting the pain trapped in his voice and sighs, “we all do. it’s just the human in us.”

the rest of his words grow obscured as his eyes droop, the alcohol and sleepless nights finally catching up to him. slowly, but surely, the world blacks out.

-

it’s almost dreamlike— the feeling of his hair being brushed softly and the way a familiar voice lulls him awake. he lets out a small groan as his head pounds violently from what he hoped was the night before. he thinks it’s all in his head; the soft touches and the soft voice that continued to fall upon his ears. it’s so painfully familiar, yet it couldn’t be but he felt his heart jump at the possibility of it.

“sole?” his eyes shoot open but close back in an instant as the gentle light illuminating from the window cracks filled his vision. his head dips on what seems to be their lap, trying to block it out desperately. he felt the same hand that brushed his locks rest on top of his eyes to protect it from the sunlight that only made his head throb more.

“morning sleepyhead.” upon hearing that sweet sound, tears began to form in his eyes once more. the one person he’s yearned to see for what seemed like centuries was finally within arms reach. just like that, his tears fell effortlessly, collecting in soles hand as it streamed down his cheeks.

“deacon?” before they could remove their hand to reveal the tears spilling from his eyes, he quickly places his hand on top of theirs as a silent request to keep his eyes hidden.

“i’m sorry.” he chokes out, voice cracking through each word that left his lips, “i’m fucking sorry. i-“ he gently squeezed the same hand that rested on top of theirs. sole remained silent, watching as he spoke through ragged breaths. he tried his best to muster out his apologies, thoughts — feelings — through the pounding of his mind.

“everything i said, it was a lie. it was all a fucking lie just to avoid having some kind of attachment in my life. i hurt you because i was scared of facing my fears.”

“lie? scared? deacon, what-,” their words drifted into nothingness as deacon continued on.

“no matter how much i tried to run away from it, i knew i couldn’t. i had feelings for you. feelings more than this partnership that we both agreed to do, more than the best friends we claimed to be.” at this point, his feelings poured through the cracks of his heart and he knew that he would fix it this time, even if sole no longer felt the same way. “i fell for you hard. i was in love with you and i still am, sole.”

after a deep breath, he continued on. “you don’t have to forgive me. you don’t even have to give me the chance to love you properly, i just want you to know i’m sorry. i’m sorry it had to take you to leave from my life for me realize how much this meant to me. how much you meant to me.”

for a moment, it’s still; the air seems tense at first and time seems to freeze. there’s this sense of fear that overtakes his mind for a mere second.

soon enough, time seems to continue on as sole places a soft kiss on his forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds. “we’ll talk about this more when you wake up, okay?” they whisper and as reassuring as it sounds, he’s still terrified. terrified that he’ll wake up alone.

“will you be here when i wake up?” he tries to let it out calmly, but there is a hint of panic and unsureness in his voice he couldn’t push away any longer. all of that seems to melt away as sole lets out a small chuckle, his heart swelling with a mix of pain and relief.

“yes.” they reassure, “i’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

he let out a relieved sigh, keeping his hand on top of the one that covered his eyes. for the first time in weeks, everything finally felt right.

“love you, charmer.” before he could hear their reply, he felt himself being pulled into slumber that quietly called his name.