#also does any of this post make sense I’m so tired

[rooolt]

The thing that makes me so insane about scary marlowe is how real she feels to me. Like previous Beth characters have always been ridiculous and silly and stupid and I’ve loved them in their own right but there’s something about scary that makes me look at her and go “I could know this girl.” Like she’s a teenager who never came to terms with her dad leaving and is now lashing out at the easiest target and subsequently everyone. Terry spurs it on with this sense of permanency, if he moves into her life her dad will never come back and never love her, and from there she becomes wrapped up in a whirlwind of who she is or who she should be. Ultimately scary is a scared and upset teenage girl who latches on to the first powerful influence in her life that says he cares about her. Sure terry says he cares, but if he really did would he be replacing her real dad? And terry isn’t giving her magic powers to protect herself. Willy as her patron is also really interesting because all the kids get their powers from daddy magic, from their connection to their fathers which we know doesn’t have to be biological because of link, but Scary’s powers are not built on her relationship with terry, THEY COME FROM WILLY. If she abandons him that doesn’t leave her powerless because of daddy magic and terry, but I think at least at this point the daddy magic Scary’s using, if any, is built on her connection with willy

[male-duckk]

thinking abt joe/carlos

[deus-ex-mona]

little brothers and their will to #slay, man </3

[differentsublimephantom]

One day I’ll get the courage to post all my story ideas and fandom headcannons and interesting details I noticed and all the drawings and animations I’ve said I’ll draw and all the rps I said I’d do, I will, I swear! One day….

[hhughes]

I loved your post on napper Jack. But I never see anything about Quinn being a napper as well. As someone who is a serious napper, like falls asleep on the floor kind of napper. Can you write something about Quinn dating someone who is more of a napper then him and how he reacts to it.

It’s not that Quinn doesn’t like naps. In fact he’d love nothing more than to close his eyes in the afternoon and get a good twenty minutes of rest , but since he’s joined the league and moved to a new country by himself it’s as if he hasn’t really gotten any time to have the luxury of naps.

And even when he does it’s as if he can’t switch off his mind and settle his body enough to slip into that blissful state. He’s constantly thinking – stressing about something. What’s he eating for dinner tonight, when’s he gonna do laundry, what day and time is he gonna call his family where their schedules all line up to talk for more than a rushed ten minute phone call.

Since he’s become captain that state of constant stress has only increased ten fold. Now he’s not only worrying about his own problems but also half the team’s. As their teammate and friend Quinn would’ve taken it upon himself to worry about them anyway, but since he’s been bestowed with his new title there’s an extra sense of responsibility to make sure everyone is okay all the time.

Quinn doesn’t mind it of course, he’s always thrived under pressure and he’s honoured to be a leader , there’s not a day that goes by that he doesn’t feel proud or grateful that the organization trusted him to lead his team. But that doesn’t mean that it all doesn’t get a bit much sometimes , and he doesn’t know if he can handle it all that well , until he meets you. . .

Quinn was sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing but switch his position every now and then so he doesn’t get sore, and flip through things to watch. A rare sight these days , an early afternoon off where he just gets to do nothing , and he was gonna take full advantage. He decided to order take out and was in the midst of ordering your usual when you suddenly burst through the front door , not saying anything while you kick off your shoes and shed your layers you put on to protect yourself from the cold in the Vancouver air.

All Quinn can do is watch in affectionate amusement as you scuffle your way towards him in your fuzzy white socks , climbing onto his lap , a leg on either side of his hips and burrowing your cold nose in the warmth of his neck. He rubs his palm on your lower back a few times, kissing the top of your head and feels all the tension in your body melt away.

“hi honey, how was your day?” you mumble against his skin, leaving a few kisses against his neck before pulling back a bit to meet his eyes

“so much better now that you’re here. how was your day baby?” he asks, sending you a soft smile , one you can’t help but mirroring , leaning forward and giving him a gentle peck

“very busy , I’m exhausted , I could fall asleep standing up,” you joke but Quinn frowns slightly, running his thumb over the dark circles under your eyes

“I’m ordering dinner , getting your usual , that okay?” he asks and you nod, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips in thanks

“want me to run you a bath?” he asks, his hands moving to your shoulders and he starts massaging the knots there

“in a bit , and only if you join me,” you say, laying your head on his chest, perfectly tucked under his chin and Quinn grabs his phone before he wraps his arms tightly around your waist , finishing the food order he was busy placing minutes earlier.

Quinn can’t help the soft laugh that escapes his lips when he hears you snore lightly a few minutes later. You weren’t kidding about falling asleep standing up , and he knows it’s not just when you’re tired. You could fall asleep anywhere, but it almost always happened instantly when you were snuggled in his arms like you were now.

He presses a quick kiss to your temple, tightening his arms around you further before laying his head back against the couch, not having any intention of falling asleep but his eyes can’t help but slip closed. your soft puffs of breath a lullaby in his ear, and your familiar scent in his nose calming him.

Both of you startle awake a while later when there’s a knock on the door for the food delivery and Quinn presses a messy kiss to your cheek before getting up and going to grab it. Naps like those have been frequent since he started dating you and now he couldn’t imagine his life without them. Or you. . .

[bakuliwrites]

MC Falling Asleep on M6's Lap (Baewatch)

It's been a hot minute since I posted anything and, unfortunately, I don't have the brain power to do any new content. But I figured I would post a headcanon from my old blog. Someone had requested this a long time ago and I loved writing it. The idea was so cute! I love the Baewatch tale and the bonfire scene at the end is so fun. So, here you go! Also, updated my banners just to try out something new :)

Asra is more than prepared for you to fall asleep on his lap. In fact, he can sense your exhaustion before even you can. He gives you a knowing smirk at your first yawn, leans back where he’s seated in the sand, and offers up his lap for you to lay your head in.

“I’m not sleepy,” you insist, crossing your arms indignantly. But his lap looks pretty inviting. Within minutes, you’re conked out, head cradled by Asra’s legs. He tenderly runs his fingers through your hair, smiling softly down at your slumbering form.

When it’s time to leave, he gently rouses you from your sleep. “MC,” he whispers, carefully shifting you in his lap, “It’s time to go.” Groggily, you rise. Hand in hand, you and Asra walk the length of the beach, back to your room, where you get some much needed rest, snuggled up in his arms <3

You’re already resting your head on Nadia’s lap when you feel the first twinge of exhaustion. Your eyes start to droop, though you try desperately to keep them open. You want to watch Julian’s magical fire display, but you’re just so tired.

Nadia discovers you’re asleep when she looks down to see if you’re enjoying yourself. She smiles to herself, moving a strand of your hair aside that’s fallen in front of your eyes. She thinks you look positively adorable. So adorable, in fact, she feels suddenly compelled to pinch your cheeks (but refrains, not wanting to rudely awaken you).

When it’s time to go, Nadia lays a soft kiss on your forehead and whispers your name. She guides you back to your room, holding you close and keeping you warm in the chilly night air. She makes sure you have everything you need before snuggling up beside you in bed<3

You’re dazzled by the multicolored lights flashing before your eyes, changing with each powder Julian tosses into the fire. There’s so much joy floating around the campfire, you find yourself feeling utterly relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that you lay your head down in Julian’s lap and pass out.

Julian’s too busy showing off his magical powders to notice you’ve fallen asleep, at first. But when he finally does take notice, he makes sure to quiet down. He rubs small circles on your back, gazing thoughtfully down at your peaceful face. He’s glad to see you so restful.

When it’s time to go, he doesn’t bother to try waking you. Instead, he carefully lifts you into his arms and carries you back to your room. He’s so very gentle when he tucks you in, stealthily sliding into bed beside you and cuddling you close <3

Portia practically pulls you into her lap when she notices you yawning. With a wink, she promises she’ll wake you up if anything crazy exciting happens. You smile up at her before falling asleep to the comforting sensation of her combing her fingers through your hair.

You’re knocked out for the remainder of the bonfire. Portia makes mental notes of all the things you’re missing, ready to regale you with all of the nonsense that occurred while you slept. She marvels over the fact that you could sleep through Lucio’s racket (though she did see your face twist in what could’ve been annoyance when he was being particularly loud). She was quick to quiet him down, shooting him a dirty look.

When it’s time to leave, Portia leans in to whisper in your ear, “Come on, cuddle bug. It’s time to go.” She giggles as your eyes flutter open and you flash a quizzical look her way. She’s never called you “cuddle bug” before and you’re not sure how you feel about it. You can’t help but laugh a little as she guides you back to the room, ready to settle in for the night with you <3

Muriel has been silent, as usual, the whole of the night. But you’ve caught him smiling a few times. He seems a bit mesmerized by the changing colors of the fire. Seeing him relaxed makes you feel even more relaxed than you already were. You lay your head down in Muriel’s lap, which startles him at first, and decide to close your eyes for a minute.

Well, a minute becomes a while. You’re lulled to sleep by Muriel’s warmth, the crackle of the fire, and the gentle rush of the waves. Muriel is rigid when he discovers you’ve fallen asleep on him. He doesn’t move a muscle the entire rest of the night, terrified to wake you up. In fact, he barely breathes in fear of rousing you (something you’ll laugh about later).

When it’s time to go, he awkwardly lifts you from the ground, cradling you gently in his arms. You wake up on the walk back to your room, but he keeps you snuggled up in his embrace. When you reach home, you fall asleep again, wrapped up in his arms <3

In the brief moment that night when Lucio is actually sitting still, you manage to lay your head in his lap. “Don’t you go falling asleep on me, MC!” he teases, catching you yawning, “The night is young, yet!” You roll your eyes at him, settling further in. Secretly, he’s happy you’re cuddling up with him.

Despite Lucio’s hullabaloo, you manage to fall asleep. When he looks down to ask if you want anything else to eat or drink, he notices you’re passed out in his lap. A lot of things go through his mind, all at once. He has half a mind to draw a moustache on you, smiling devilishly at the thought. But he’s also just really delighted that you’re relaxed enough with him to fall asleep.

He lets you rest (though he’s not very good at keeping quiet for you and, in his excitement over the bonfire, he definitely bonks you in the head a couple times with his knee which is followed up by profuse apologies, smooches, and hushes for you to go back to sleep). When it’s time to go, he shakes you awake (a bit unceremoniously), but makes up for it when you return to your room by tucking you into bed and cuddling up beside you <3

[bitethedevil]

Why does Raphael hate Mephistopheles and why does he live in Avernus?: Raphael as an outcast

(It has been a little while since my last analysis post. I would like to remind everyone that what I’m talking about is purely my own theories and I always love to hear other people’s thoughts on them no matter if you agree or not <3.)

As we know, Raphael lives in Avernus and not in Cania where Mephistopheles rules. All devils essentially somehow serve an archdevil. The Nine Hells is a super hierarchical place and everyone below the archdevils are basically little worker bees who live to serve their respective archdevils in one way or another.

Raphael collects souls, so one can expect that his job is to some extent to harvest souls for whoever is above him. One would expect that the archdevil he serves is Mephistopheles, but he indirectly helps us rob his father of quite a lot of souls by telling us about Cazador's ritual. That seems like an incredibly stupid and risky move if he worked for Mephistopheles, so I am not quite sold on the fact that he serves his dear old papa.

We know from the Archivist that Zariel’s people keep a bit of an eye on him and comes and goes in his house. Given he also lives in Avernus, it would make more sense that he is forced to serve Zariel at least to some extent. My money is on the idea that his official superior (or his boss, if you will) is Zariel and not Mephistopheles, though I think he might have once served Meph.

Here is a super interesting piece of information that I found about Avernus (this is from the Fiendish Codex II):

“Avernus is home to the outcasts of Baator, also known as ‘the rabble of devilkin.’ Few lesser devils survive more than a few moments as outcasts, so this group is composed almost exclusively of unique devils who are equals of any duke.”

My theory is that Raphael is an outcast and that’s why he’s in Avernus. Perhaps his father got tired of him and got rid of him, fully thinking that he would not survive. I am almost certain that cambions would fall under the ‘lesser devils’ category, or at the very least they are not on the level of dukes. I feel like it’s also often said that Raphael is pretty OP compared to a simple cambion, which is most likely the only reason he has survived (I’ve also heard people talk about him as a duke, which fits into this little theory as well).

There’s more though, and this is where it gets really kind of speculative:

“Some outcast devils, such as Azazel and Dagon, have been stripped of their original names to reduce the chances that they will be summoned to the Material Plane.”

Now, Raphael is a cambion, so he can move between planes regardless, but it would still be a very shitty and dehumanizing thing to strip someone of their name. Mephistopheles being Mephistopheles probably would do something like that if he was pissed at someone.

I have always thought a lot about his name. “Raphael” is a name that we would mostly associate with angels, and not devils. It furthermore does not really sound like any other devil names I’ve come across. It literally means “God’s healer” or something along those lines.

Wouldn’t it be so in character for his dramatic ass, who loves to play human and to play benevolent savior, to choose an angel name for himself? At the Last Light Inn, he literally says that Mol would not believe that he’s a devil because of his “angelic complexion”.

Finally, there’s this:

“Treacherous and scheming, the outcast dukes constantly seek ways to either reclaim their former positions or ranks in the Nine Hells or to destroy or displace the current order. […] Either way, they serve as important pawns between feuding archdukes and dukes.”

Now that definitely sounds like someone we know. I would very much say that wanting the Crown of Karsus to take over the Hells falls under “destroying or displacing the current order”. However, Raphael still has mentions of his father around his house and he has a portal to Cania.

It would not surprise me that Mephistopheles started to show interest in him again after he survived and thrived in Avernus. It would also not surprise me if Raphael, despite all the hate for what his father has done to him, licks Mephistopheles boots to gain favor with him behind closed doors (or at the very least to gain information to give to Zariel behind his father’s back).

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[scuorge101]

“Gambit is just arm candy”

“Gambit is nothing without Rogue”

“He’s a nothing character”

Stfu!! He’s not a nothing character. He’s actually a good character that Marvel never uses well except for a few solos and a very few comics where he’s on a team. He has a good power set that they also never know what to do with other than “eheheh throw cards” when he states himself he can blow up more than just cards.

He is also not just “Rogue’s lover” or “Arm Candy”. He doesn’t need to be around her to be a great character. He does love Rogue deeply, so deep that his heart is basically her, but that doesn’t mean he just floats around her. He is his own character and I’m so fucking tired of y’all and the writers reducing him to nothing but Rogue’s partner or a joke.

Honestly I’m so damn tired of people either not giving his character a chance or Marvel just letting him slip through their fingers.

Also y’all reducing him to nothing but Rogue’s lover just ignores all the things he went through and his own past, morals and actual character. This man did not die multiple times, get stuck in Antartica, help out Storm, Laura, and Gimmick, be the the king of thieves, Show Rogue there is more to love than touch, and stuck by the X-Men’s side regardless of how they treat him for y’all to just narrow him down to nothing while y’all give any other character the spotlight.

He may not always be morally correct and he does make mistakes, but who in these comics hasn’t made mistakes? Emma, Scott, Rogue, Kitty, Jean, Bobby, Beast, Logan, etc have all made mistakes yet Gambit is the only character I’ve seen who gets constantly crapped on. I’m glad the show showed off his powers and what he can really do.

Sorry for yet again another rant!! I practically can’t do anything else until all these bruises and headache from my bike accident go away. I so badly want to draw but I can’t really so I’m just stuck here scrolling through apps and Twitter kinda pisses me off with some Gambit takes.

I’m kinda really am holding out hope that this new comic I’ve seen in the works gives him some ground to stand on and not just let him be an afterthought 🙏

Also sorry if y’all followed me and this is all I talk about I swear I do other things than this help 💀

If this post doesn’t make sense then 🤷‍♀️

[crdteezv]

Frat House - Xiaojun Ver.

DISCLAIMER (important): This is a continuation of a fratboy series I’m doing for all the Wayv members! I recommend you read the prologue here first so everything can make more sense. You can also choose the other members here or a the end if you are interested in seeing someone else!

Paring:  !fratboy! xiaojun x f! reader

Genre: college! au, frat! au, smut

Synopsis: You continue playing an interesting game of Spin the Bottle/Truth or Dare with Ten and his friends. You were dared to spend the night with one of them. When the bottle was spun, it landed on Xiaojun. You wondered what type of things you and him were about to get into tonight…

Warnings: smut. !switch! sub to soft dom! xiaojun, dirty talk, praise, slight degradation, teasing, kissing, fingering, hair pulling, oral (receiving), edging, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N:  It’s been a while since I last posted something (like 2 months…) I apologize for being inconsistent in uploading each part. I lacked motivation a lot of times hence why I haven’t been consistent like I used to be. Now that it’s summer, I have more time to write and I have a lot of good things coming soon!! But this series will soon come to an end! All I have left to do is Winwin and I’m done the Wayv Frat Series. I appreciate it if y’all just be patient with me 😭

After Hendery spun the bottle, it landed on Xiaojun.

You didn't feel bothered by it since you and he were once close friends, and there wouldn't be any awkwardness between you two.

“Well, I’m glad it’s you; now let’s head over to your room. I'm so tired.”

Xiaojun nodded his head and led you into his bedroom. Meanwhile, the others wished that the bottle would’ve landed on them instead of Xiaojun, especially Hendery. He is the reason all of this happened because of the dare he created.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“So here is my room!” Xiaojun said with enthusiasm.

You entered into an earthy tone and organized space. His room had almost a comforting feeling to it. You made your way over to his bed and got comfy.

“H-hey, if you’re not okay with us staying in the same room, I wouldn’t mind sleeping-”

“Uh, what are you talking about, dude? We used to be best friends and be with each other all the time. You should come to bed, silly. Don’t tell me you’re all shy about it now.”

“Pft, me, shy? Never. It's just different now, you know? We haven't been as close since we left high school," Xiaojun said.

He does have a point.

The friendship you once had with him was totally different now.

He was like Ten for you, always being at each other's houses after school and would sometimes stay over. Things between you and Xiaojun have always been purely platonic. But ever since you met Ten, you’ve been around him more.

“Yeah, I feel you, but hey, it will be just like old times, alright?”

He nodded his head and made his way over to you and laid down on the bed.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves reminiscing about old times, sharing stories and laughter. It was as if no time had passed since you last spoke as if the years of distance and silence had never existed. Memories of your past friendship flooded back, reminding you of the inside jokes, shared secrets, and the countless hours spent hanging out together. You both needed this chance to reconnect and remember the friendship you once had.

The room fell silent as Xiaojun slowly made direct eye contact with you. Your heart beat with anticipation, not knowing what he was going to say.

“What happened to us?”

You gave him a confused look and asked him what he meant by that.

He then proceeded to say, “You know, our friendship. We used to always goof around and be around each other all the time. Now I barely see you anymore. I really miss—”

He stopped himself from talking and did not want to embarrass himself anymore.

“You know what? Nevermind. I was just rambling about nothing important. It’s getting late, and we should—”

“You miss what, Jun?”

He had a sincere look on his face, almost as if he was holding himself back. He gently caressed your hand and said, “You. It’s you that I miss the most. Being with you all the time is what I miss.”

His statement caught you off guard and left you feeling flustered. You didn’t realize how much Xiaojun missed being friends with you. You always spent your time with Ten that you didn’t even realize it.

“Wow, I didn’t know you felt that way. I feel so bad because I was supposed to be your best friend.”

“No, don't feel bad, it’s okay. You have Ten now, and you see  him way more than me anyway.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and continued to hold eye contact with him.

“Still, you were there for my first, and I shouldn’t have gotten so distant with you—”

“I like you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at his sudden confession. You fell quiet for a second, which started to make Xiaojun even more nervous.

“Wait, you do? How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Since we started to become best friends. I know this is sudden, and I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s just we finally have some alone time together and—”

You silenced him with a kiss, to which he gradually responded, and passion quickly sparked between you. You found yourself sitting on his lap, straddling him, as things intensified. He began to whimper softly as you exchanged kisses. Pulling back, you gave him a sinful look, leaving him utterly captivated and longing for more.

“Is it okay if I keep on going, Jun?”

He was too shy to speak, so he simply nodded. You began to shower kisses all over his neck, leaving marks. His whimpers and moans of pleasure echoed as you skillfully heightened his sensations. Lost in pleasure, he tilted his head back, prompting you to gently grasp his neck, urging him to meet your gaze.

“Oh, this is only going to work if you keep on looking at me. The moment you take your eyes off me, I will stop everything that I’m doing, understand?”

"Y-yes, I understand, I'm sorry," he stuttered.

You silenced him with another passionate kiss, then spoke firmly, "It better not happen again."

You felt something start to become hard underneath you.

“Aww, you like it when I treat you like this, don’t you, Jun?” 

He nodded his head, feeling flustered and unable to help himself.

You started to grind against his crotch, making him even more of a mess for you. He began to softly whimper and melt into your arms. He loved that you were taking control and looking up into your eyes. You began to kiss him and wrapped your hand around his throat. He seemed to like that because you felt him harden underneath you once again.

You decided to take it further and started to move down onto his neck, marking him up. He bit his lip in an attempt to stifle his moans, but once you began to lower your hand and touch his erection, he couldn't contain himself.

"Mhm, you’re joining enjoy this, aren’t you, Jun?"

All he could do was nod his head in response.

You lifted up his shirt, and he did the same. He looked at you with such desperation, still unable to believe that all his fantasies were about to come to life. After one more passionate kiss, you proceeded to kiss down his chest. Moving lower, you pulled down his joggers and underwear.

His dick made contact with your face as it sprung up against it.

“Wow, you seem really excited about this.”

He nodded his head and started to shake a little. You noticed and gripped his waist with one of your hands to keep him in place. With your other hand, you began to slowly stroke his cock. He tried his best to stifle all of his sinful noises, but he couldn’t keep it together. He began to stroke up into your hand and get lost in his pleasure.

“Mhm, who would’ve thought that you were this needy for me? How long have you thought about this, Jun?”

“S-since I f-first met y-you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You started to stroke him at a faster pace than before.

"Oh, really? I didn't know you were this obsessed with me," you remarked.

You started to gently kiss all over his dick, and he began to whine and beg for you to stop.

“I find it very cute, honestly.”

That almost did it for him. Your teasing and taunting were pushing him to the edge and he wasn't sure how much longer he could resist you.

Then, you took him into your mouth.

He arched his back in pleasure, practically screaming out for you

 You bobbed your head up and down on him, and he loved every second of it. You started using both hands to stroke the base of his member while sucking on the tip. You could feel him pulsing around your hands and in your mouth.

He couldn’t hold back, and he grabbed your hair and he started thrusting himself into your mouth with full force. You began to gag on him and felt your eyes start to water. As he was about to finish, he decided to lift you off of him and stop himself.

You were confused as to why he did that when he was so close. He then flipped you over onto your back and pinned your hands down above your head. He knelt into your ear and whispered, 

“Now it’s my turn.”

He said it in such a husky and deep tone that it took you off guard for a second. You'd never seen Xiaojun look so serious and almost intimidating. His voice sent shivers down your spine. Even that desperate look in his eyes changed. It was as if he had become a completely different person now.

He started to wrap one of his hands around your throat and lower the other down into your shorts. He let out a cocky smirk and said, “Oh wow, honey, don’t tell me you got wet just from sucking me off. Here I thought I was the pathetic one. But you, my love—”

He took your shorts completely off and left your panties on. He pushed your panties to the side and inserted one of his fingers into your aching pussy. You let out a soft whimper and tried your best not to be too loud.

“You, my love, are just as desperate as I am.”

You knew he was right. You always had a crush on him, but you were always too scared to act on it. Since you and him stopped seeing each other as much, your feelings for him started to go away. But some part of you knew you still liked him regardless of that.

He started pounding his finger into you, and you wanted to melt in his arms instantly. He added a second finger into the mix, and you let out a loud moan. He knew that you were enjoying every second of this. He even started to rub your clit with his thumb. You didn’t care how loud you were being; you practically whined and screamed out in pleasure. You couldn’t control yourself anymore. You returned the same desperate and needy gaze he had given you earlier.

“Aww, you’re so pretty when you moan out for me, darling. Keep on making noises for me.”

You reveled in everything he was saying to you, and he loved seeing you in this state. He had been wanting this for so long, and now that it was finally happening, he couldn’t believe it. He felt that you were close to the edge and decided to pull out his fingers.

You whined from not feeling full anymore, but that didn’t last long when he positioned his cock against your pussy and shoved himself into you. You threw your head back in pleasure and wrapped your legs around his waist. He was giving you long but hard strokes. He took his time with you and wanted to savor this moment between the two of you.

“God, you're so beautiful, and I love when you look at me like that.”

You loved it when he would always praise and compliment you. All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. You felt almost connected to him in this moment and didn’t want to let go of him. He seemed like he was getting anxious and wanted to speed things up a bit. He grabbed onto the bedframe and started to thrust into you at a faster pace.

“Mhm, this feels so good, Jun—”

“I know, baby. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

You felt yourself start to loosen up around him, and he pushed your legs back around your head. He explored deeper into your core, touching places you never imagined could bring such pleasure. He found your sweet spot, which drove you more insane than before.

You didn’t know how long you could take this anymore.

“P-please, slow d-down, Junnie, I—”

It had been a while since you called him and he loved it so much. In a sudden burst of energy, he accelerated, moving as quickly as possible.

“Fuck, sweetie, if you keep calling me that, you’re going to drive me completely insane.”

You let out a smirk, and you had so much lust in your eyes as you said, “But I love calling you that. It makes you all flustered and you look cute.

You saw that his face started to become red, and he couldn’t even look you in the eye anymore.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Junnie? Where did all your confidence go? Don’t tell me you’re going to give up on me now…”

He didn’t like how much you were patronizing him, and he didn’t hold back. He started to choke you again, and he had this serious look in his eyes. He knelt down into your ear and said, “Now, darling, I'm not going to last very long, and you can run your mouth all you want, but if you don’t finish at the same time as me, you’re on your own.”

He looked as intimidating as before, and you knew he wasn’t messing around anymore. So you gave in to his demands. He thrust into you with such force and vigor, and you both reached your breaking points and came at the same time.

He collapsed onto your chest, he felt his whole body become weak.

“Hey, Jun, get off of me, you're too heavy.”

He let out a chuckle and rolled you over to the bed, and now you’re both facing each other side-by-side. You lay there for a minute and thought back on all the things that just happened. You didn’t know what to say, and then he finally spoke.

“Hey, look, if I was too rough or got carried away, I want to say I'm sorry for that—”

“Junnie, you don’t have to apologize for anything. That was all so good. I especially liked the part where you took control towards the end. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

He blushed at your words, still surprised that you allowed him to do all this to you and that you felt the same way about him.

“Aww, thanks, really. So what do we do now? I hope this doesn’t get in the way of you and Ten. I see the way he looks at you—”

“Oh, he will be fine. He is pretty understanding, and I don’t think he would have a problem with this. At the end of the day, he is my best friend, and he would support me no matter what.”

Xiaojun felt reassured about the situation. He understood that you were closer to Ten now and he just didn't want to cause any problems.

“But we should start hanging out more, Jun, and maybe even… go on a date?”

He froze for a second. He couldn’t believe that this was finally happening.

“U-um, I would really love that, actually!”

You kissed him on the lips and said, “Okay, so where do you want to go?”

**A/N: **If you want to see what would happen if the bottle landed on a different member, choose here: [KUN] [TEN] [WINWIN] [HENDERY] [YANGYANG] 

[pixiecaps]

could you type a short post about q!roier’s intentions at least please? 🥺👉👈

how do i keep this as short as possible ok uh

qroier isn’t ignoring the problem and not recognizing qcellbit wrongs. he doesn’t UNDERSTAND that its a problem he in his own morality doesn’t think of it as a WRONG. and its not because he’s feigning ignorance but because of that fact he has suffered so greatly at the hands of the federation that to him qcellbit’s possible murder rampage is justified and makes complete sense! he knows qcellbit has been just as wronged as him. qroier told qcellbit he’d burn the federation down with him and that’s exactly what he’s doing. he didn’t simply say that because he loves qcellbit but also because he believes it’s what has to happen. it’s not a matter of oh he’s enabling his husbands bad behavior but a case of deeply understanding qcellbits actions. more than anyone else he knows how much pain the federation has caused and is willing to do whatever it takes to hurt them just as bad. because at the end of the day to him thats what they deserve.

i also think its important to note that roier’s lack of memories shape how he perceives a lot of things. he doesn’t recall a “normal” life he doesn’t know what normal is. the act of killing federation workers does not phase him as much as it would other islanders because he hasn’t formed any sort of attachment to them. besides Osito. who left him at the worst possible time. the lives of the workers mean nothing to him. killing isn’t a big deal when its an everyday occurrence on the island. the island killed his son and the Federation gave him false hope that he may be revived. then he wasn’t and the world kept going. how could he not feel complete hatred towards the Federation? his morality when it comes to that is very grey.

Roier: I’ve been betrayed. I’ve been humiliated on this island. Terrible things have happened to me Bagi. I’ve always tried to keep my chin up, you know? But I’m tired.

qCellbit is tired. qRoier is tired. Theyre tired.

[tkaulitzlvr]

THE WRONG WAY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom hasn’t been paying you enough attention lately, and, when you finally snap, he can’t understand where you are coming from, until you reach your breaking point. can the issues between you and him be resolved?

content: angst

a/n: pulled this out of my ass lol, i had to rush it because i’m in the middle of another req but it’s nowhere near done after like three hours of writing so i’ll have to finish and post it tomorrow. sorry if there are mistakes, i only proofread veryyy briefly cause i’m so tired rn😭 hope this is okay tho!!

"you don't love me."

i voice the harsh words to the silent room, clearly and with every sense of belief behind my statement. to my discomfort, saying it out loud does not make me feel any more at ease, in fact seeing the way tom’s entire body breaks for a second, processing what i had just said, before trying to cover the hurt on his face up, only suffocates me even more. the lump in my throat only gets bigger, the tension in the air thickening by the second.

"wow." he begins, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around how i could even come to that conclusion. "that’s an awful accusation." he glances at me, his eyes already glossy, giving me enough of an idea on how much i have hurt him by uttering those four words. however i stick to it, figuring that it is too late to back out now. within me, behind all the anger, all the upset, i feel that it is true. i sense that he no longer feels the same way he did when he met me, all those years ago, the love within his eyes slowly diminishing until it is now long gone.

"and also." he speaks, leaning forward and looking directly into my eyes, staying in his position spread on the end of the other couch. "it's not true. you know it isn't."

the pressure of his gaze leaves me unable to hold eye contact with him, looking away sheepishly into my lap, hoping that somehow the ground could swallow me up. i grit my teeth, locking my jaw in anger, feeling no reassurance from his quick denial of my statement. so i decide to challenge him, standing my ground despite the nausea only growing within me. though his voice seems somewhat certain, i refuse to believe that i am making it up, that it is all in my head. "do i though tom?"

my eyes meet his, except the ones looking into me are foreign. they are angry, a glint of hostility present within them that i had not yet witnessed, this change taking me aback, yet i refuse to look away. he is sad. those eyes, past the resentment in them, i see pain. i see sorrow. i have upset him, far beyond what he intends to let out. he is usually strong, and perhaps right now he thinks that he is keeping this up, yet i can read him like a book, the way his left brow furrows, creating a crease along his forehead, the way his eyes cannot focus on one thing, darting around the room, i can see that he is struggling. and whilst part of me hurts with him, hating to put him through any sort of distress, i need it right now. because i am tired of feeling unloved and unappreciated - regardless of whether tom intends to make me feel this way or not.

he shakes his head, scoffing slightly in disbelief, letting out a shaky sigh, before speaking up, his voice loud, in contrast to the silent room. "what, so i've been lying every single time i’ve told you that i love you, over the past six years that we've been together? mind you, i say that every day, without fail."

i stay silent, my eyes becoming glossy as they quickly tear away from his. he takes my silence as a cue to continue, my sudden belief that he does not love me angering him as he desperately seeks to remind me of every reason why i am in the wrong. "don't i do everything for you? make sure that you're always safe, give you my everything-"

"give me your money, you mean." i reply, cutting him off. i don’t want to seem ungrateful - i appreciate the way tom would spend any amount of money on me if it made me happy. i am thankful for the house he has given me, the vacations he takes me on, the things he buys me, but those things are not the reasons why i fell in love with him. i fell for tom kaulitz. not his money, not his fame, not his profession. i fell for who he is, for him as a person, whether he is rich or poor, yet it feels that day by day i lose a small part of that. i have always understood that his job means that he will be away a lot, but it is hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't always be there, only their fortunes can.

"i’m grateful for what you do for me, really i am, but i'd much rather have time with you than the latest gucci bag, or the newest chanel perfume. if it meant that i would have to live with nothing for the rest of my life, i would do it. don't you understand? i want you - not your money tom! i don't need you to apologise with gifts when i don’t see you all day, i just...i need you." i am desperate, craving for him to hear me out, to understand that it is him that i need, but the way he looks at me in confusion shows me that i am not going to achieve that.

"i thought you liked the things i buy for you. have you been lying?" he completely ignores the point that i have been trying to make, this only fuelling the frustration within me as i exhale shakily, quickly grasping onto the opportunity to argue my point once again.

"i do but that's not the point tom! i like them because i feel like it's all i get from you!" my voice is raising, something which i did not want to happen. shouting never solves the problem, however right now i am far too angry to care. "i just want some of your time, to feel like you actually care! when you're with me, you're here physically, but your mind is always elsewhere. i just miss you. i need to you be mine again, i-"

"look, i’m sorry okay?" he begins, harshly cutting me off and matching the volume in my voice. "i'm sorry that my job is more demanding than others, i’m sorry that it needs a lot of my attention, but i told you this from the beginning. my career is a big part of who i am and things aren't always easy. they get hard, they get tough, but-"

"that's my problem! when things get hard for you, i don't fucking know about it! because you shut me out, every. single. time. i'm your girlfriend, tom. i want to know about your life, i want to help you, but you always run away from me! you spoil me with gifts and money to compensate for every fucking time you leave me in the dark! i don't want it anymore. i just want you to communicate!" i move from the couch, walking to the middle of the room and standing a few feet away from him. his eyes are glued to me, watching my every step, and he is listening to me this time. "am i such a headache to be around, that you can't talk to me? that you can't deal with spending time with me, so instead you spend your money to try and shut me up, because you have so much that no matter what you buy, it doesn't affect you?"

"don't." he voices shakily as i stare into his eyes, his expression more wounded than ever. my words stab into him, hitting him harder than i had anticipated. his fists clench against his thighs, holding every ounce of frustration. though we have argued in the past, i have never seen him this upset, regardless of whether he intends to show it visibly or not. "you know that i don't think of you that way, even for a second. so stop."

"you can't blame me for thinking it tom." i shrug. "you leave me out of everything, i have no idea what's going on in your life anymore-"

“because i'm trying to fucking protect you!" he interrupts, raising his voice once again. his hand slams against the arm of the couch, the sudden contact causing me to wince slightly. "i'm sorry if you feel like i'm hiding things from you. but i know parts of my life would just stress you out and hurt you. don't you get that? i'm trying to save you from the pain-"

"i want the fucking pain!" i fire back. "we are supposed to be in a relationship. do you know what that means? i want to suffer with you. i would choose that, a million times over, if it meant that i could be with you for another day. i want every part of you, the sad, the happy, the angry, i want it all. can't you see that i need you? i hate being left in the dark. i absolutely fucking hate it.”

my voice pierces through his ears, diminishing the tense silence as tom gulps, clenching his jaw and leaning forwards, pinching his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. the rash and quick responses don’t allow me time to calm down, my eyes becoming glossy with tears, the salty liquid staining my cheeks before i can try to hold them back, my weakness just as evident as tom’s. the pain, the upset, the lack of affection that have been feeling all spills out, reeling outwards from within me as i let it out, no longer attempting to hold back.

he looks up, his face softening as he takes in my hurt expression. he has never seen me like this, so broken, and the fact that he is the cause of this pains him even more, his mind coming to the slow realisation that it is up to him to fix this. although he doesn’t fully understand how i could possibly believe that he does not love me, he wants to try, to try and see from my eyes. he lets out a shaky sigh, swallowing nervously before looking into my eyes.

"i would rather feel the sadness, suffer with you." i begin, my voice small as the tears quickly take away my physical strength. "i would do absolutely anything if it means that you will love me, that you will do it with me, tom."

"i don't live a normal life, and i just want to keep you away from the crazy things." he speaks slowly, trying to reason with me, refusing to turn his gaze away from mine. "some people want to hurt me, and i would never forgive myself if someone ever did anything to harm you."

i try to wipe my tears and calm my breathing, wrapping my arms around my small frame in an attempt to comfort myself, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. but my mind acknowledges tom’s change in tone. not only is he more gentle and calm, he also seems sorry, like he now recognises where he went wrong.

"what do you want me to do?" he whispers, defeated as his tired eyes meet mine. he is no longer angry. he is desperate, longing to resolve this. "i'll do anything. i- i can't lose you. you're my world, schatz, and i'm sorry if i haven't shown it, but you are everything to me."

though there are millions of things i could say, i stay silent, standing still across the room. my heart clenches painfully, hurting at the sight of him so distraught, as his mind considers the dreaded idea of what losing me would be like. his world is crumbling before him, the one thing he seeks to protect seeming to slip through his fingers. i have never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, and whilst it comforts me to know that he is slowly letting down the walls that have prevented me from truly being with him, it saddens me to see him in such a distraught state.

"all i've ever wanted is to keep you safe. to keep you happy, liebe, because if you're happy then so am i. but you deserve more than this." he points to himself angrily, letting out a shaky sigh. "more than this fucking idiot, who doesn't even know how to love. i’m so sorry if i've done it the wrong way and made you feel like i don't care. because you shouldn't for a second think that i don't love you."

everything that i have been craving to see is happening in front of me. i have longed to see him open up, to break down the barriers that separate us both physically and mentally. i don’t want him to be strong all the time, and it hurts that he feels he has to be. the tears fall from my bloodshot eyes once again - this time out of sadness for him. i hurt with him, hating to see him so upset, but i understand his pain, his anger, and i feel every emotion along with him. for the first time in forever, i feel connected with him.

after a few moments of silence, he stands up, slowly walking towards me. i refuse to meet his gaze, fearing that i will break down once again i realise how hurt he truly is, and looking into his eyes will certainly display every emotion amongst his beautiful features. his hand brushes tenderly against my cheek, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. he reaches towards my chin, using his pointer finger to angle my face upwards so it meets with his eyes. he towers over me, taking in the sorrow etched upon my face, before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, gently caressing my cheek with his lips slightly parted, shaky breaths escaping from them.

"please, look at me." he whispers, gazing longingly into my eyes. i comply, shifting my own eyes to the deep brown ones in front of me. they are full of adoration, and i feel the man that i fell in love with slowly coming back to me. "i love you, so so much, please believe me schatz. you are the most important person in my life, and i am so sorry that i've made you feel the opposite way." he chokes up, his voice shaky as i can tell he is on the verge of tears.

i listen to him, allowing every word to sink in, as it is now no longer hard to trust what he says. i feel what i have been desperate to - love. i feel truly appreciated, like i am able to confide in him like i once could. though frustrated it took the both of us to get to this state to make him speak his mind, i appreciate him opening up, his apology making up for the lost time. there is no shame in being fragile, and through his entire conversation, we have both learned this, a new found appreciation for each other gained as i feel safe again.

"don't feel like you have to keep things to yourself. i’m your girlfriend, i'm supposed to be here for you, and i'll gladly do it, but you have to talk to me." i respond, lacing my hand with his. a soft smile spreads across his face, contrasting with his bloodshot eyes whilst he slowly nods.

"i hear you. i’m so sorry baby. i love you." he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands lace together around my waist. he lets out a sob onto my shoulder, my heart breaking at the sound. he clutches onto me tighter as if i may slip away, my own eyes tearing up once again. it has been a while since i felt like this. i feel loved, and it is all that i have ever wanted from the start.

he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes through his eyelashes. after a few seconds, he leans inwards, until his lips touch mine. the kiss is gentle, carrying every promise to love and cherish me like he has failed to do, and i gladly accept it, kissing back quickly and wrapping my arms around his neck. he pulls away, planting a few pecks on my lips once again, his breath shaky as the remnants of tears stick to his cheeks. i slowly wipe them away, not breaking eye contact as i do so, gently caressing the soft skin until any trace of sadness is lost within our newfound love for each other.

a soft smile graces his lips, failing to wither as he kisses me once again, the same amount of passion as the last, making up for the lost affection as i feel more treasured than ever. this is all I have ever wanted, to feel like he cares, and now that i am feeling his affection, my mind is oozing with contentment, the feeling almost foreign it has been so long.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[cosmicisms]

alhaitham being whipped for his lover

sfw

gn!reader

a/n: love you alhaitham but you’ve been temporarily benched for a twink magician. sorry! also idk what the format of this post is like, i just threw words together without much thought.

alhaitham who had no want or need for romance before meeting you.

panics upon getting to know you more because he can sense something is wrong.

he’s very in tune with his own emotions and thoughts, so right off the bat, he knows that you’re making him feel some type of way.

poor guy, you’ve made him doubt everything he ever knew about himself.

you’d never realise it, though.

even when you greeted him with your happy smile, placing the hot coffee on his desk, he simply nods and politely thanks you.

oh god, but if you could peek into his mind. panic.

he’d usher you out of his office, claiming that you’re distracting him from the files he must attend to, even though you’re pretty sure he’s asked you out to lunch many a time during his work hours. hm…

after a while he caves, tired of denying his own feelings.

as mentioned earlier, he’s very in tune with his own thoughts. he’s not going to hide from them forever.

having approached you with his confession laid out neatly in his mind, alhaitham is rendered speechless as he’s met with that same feeling of desire he always felt around you.

except now it was more intense, blooming within him and causing him to belt out his confession in a rather strange way.

you could’ve sworn he was lecturing you, judging by the way he spoke.

after you processed his words, you accepted and returned his confession with that same sweet smile he adored.

and here you two are now. a happy couple. all according to alhaitham’s strategic plan that he definitely did not spend hours upon hours perfecting and agonising over.

now, having alhaitham as your boyfriend comes with a lot of things.

first of all, his love languages are quality time and acts of service.

even you being in the room with him while he works is enough for him. bonus points if you sit on his lap while he reads.

speaking of work, do you need help with yours? alhaitham’s a scholar, well versed in many fields. have a report you’re dreading to write up? alhaitham will try his best to help, lending you resources and giving you pointers along the way.

also he’s a touchy guy. not in the sense that he’s emotional, i mean he’s a cuddlebug.

loves to touch you in any sort of way. interpret that however you like, but i’m talking about linked pinkies while walking through sumeru city, fingers gently caring through your hair while he reads, and throwing his leg over you while you both sleep.

“i’m clingy? not at all, i simply want to keep you in my sights lest you get into any trouble. what’s that? i’m in denial? hm… then i will refrain from touching you. no, no, you’ve lost your chances now, darling.”

pet names are another thing. he doesn’t really use em. maybe the occasional “darling” or “dear” now and then, but most of the time, he’ll address you by your name.

but the way he does it still has you blushing all the same.

he likes seeing you wearing his clothes. at first, he was confused, however.

“i don’t understand. you have your own clothes that are perfectly suitable, and yet you wear mine anyways? …alright, then.”

yep, he secretly loves it. will melt upon seeing you wrapped up in his cape, his cheeks tainted with pink.

not the biggest sappy romantic, if i’m being honest. how would’ve thought, right?

he’ll cook something for you both and have a nice dinner in the privacy of his home (having kicked kaveh out for the night).

doesn’t enjoy dates out and about, but will gladly take you to the quieter spots of the city. maybe the library for a nice reading date, the two of you cuddled together in a corner with a book each.

…though, his attention is definitely focused on you, rather than the text in his hand.

will literally do anything for you. yeah, he might tease you a little for it, but he won’t hesitate.

alhaitham’s always been sure of himself. whether people thought he was arrogant or just that self-confident, he didn’t really care either way.

but for you? oh, for you…

he loves you. he could never deny that.

“you are the only one who could ever make me feel this way. i love you, y/n. let’s stay together for a long time. dare i say forever?”

[xxavengingangelxx]

I am very curious about your version of Graves, I want to hear a detailed run down from you on how he’d be like in a romantic situation, would he commit? would he get married? would he “fall in love”, would he want a trophy wife to show off? I am just very curious and would love to hear you speak about this. I want to know what he’d be like if he actually did commit to a long term relationship or marriage, and what kind of woman would make him commit if so? I personally feel like he’d get married to a woman who works alongside him in shadow company, it just makes sense for him to get with somebody who is on the same level of psychopathy as him and understands his actions and behaviour, more so, he’d love being around a woman like that in my opinion. somebody who is as intelligent and knows how PMC’s work and can help him manage it too.

This is a good question! Sorry it took a while work has been absolutely insane. Like 60+ work weeks and now I have Hurricane Beryl headed my way! I use she/her pronouns just because that’s what I wrote my fic about but I think it certainly applies the other way around, too! 😉 I also found out after copy-pasting I've exceeding the character limit so this is part 1! Triggers for mentions of domestic violence and dubcon.

ALSO: This is my version of Graves based on what I know and based on the limited information we have. Another anon post said I had Graves wrong, a different opinion. Totally okay! We all have our own versions of him.

Graves in a romantic situation. This is a difficult one. I think it would be very difficult for Graves to differentiate between romance/love and possessiveness. In a fic I wrote, Graves decides OC is his immediately upon meeting her. I think he would be similarly inclined in the civilian world. I’m not sure if he could a civilian could handle Graves, to be honest ☹But he would be similarly possessive. When this type of man (narcissistic with a touch of psychopathy/sociopathy, and if I’m honest, just a little sadism) is deeply interested in a woman, he gets her one way or another.

My version of Graves likely wouldn’t give his chosen partner a choice. In the military, he’d use his clearances (and his Shadows!) to keep track of her. He’d treat a civilian the same way. He’d follow her and then act like: “Hey! Weird running into you here!” when in his head he’s thinking, “I better not see you talking with any other men.”

I think he would commit/not cheat but not for the reasons normal people would. He would commit because he’s obsessed. He would commit because stalking someone and making sure they don’t escape you once you have a hold of them is like two full-time jobs even with his Shadows. And if we’re talking about a female I can see Graves being worried about said female trying to seduce a Shadow to let her go. If she’s on the smaller side, there’s the risk of her slipping out somewhere. His mobile job would help in the sense that his wife would be clueless as to where she was most of the time. She would never go anywhere alone. He’s got a PMC to run. And when he has down time, he’s tired.

He would love showing off his wife. In a fic I wrote he does just that. He would marry to legally tie his wife to him. And in COD, to make it a legal barrier for her to testify against him. She wouldn’t have a choice. I can totally see him pregnancy trapping his wife to further trap her with him. He’d say there was no way she’d leave and take his children and she’s not going to leave her children behind so she stays. I can’t say him mentioning his kids too much as he realizes they would be a bigger target for his enemies. Even Graves has a bit of a heart when it comes to kids.

I see Graves having more of a traditionalist especially since he’s a conservative type from Texas. I'm a Texan living in Texas y'all: Graves is typical down here (but most of them aren't as good looking!) I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the type to think: the man works, the wife stays home, raises kids, and spends all her time with her husband when he’s home. However, I can also see him wanting to keep said wife busy so her mind isn’t on escape. After kiddos start entering scene, I see him putting her on intel or something like that. Work from home, ma'am.

Graves would absolutely be attracted to intelligence because Graves is smart. Generally, if there is a big mismatch between intelligence (IQ) between parties, they struggle with not only communication but common interests. I think he would want any children he has to inherit that intelligence and continue his company.

An upside (I guess?): Graves is rich as fuck. His wife would have everything and anything she wants (except freedom, ha).

-OC wants an SUV to transport the kids on base? "Sure, darlin’ I already ordered a top-model Audi/Porche." (By the way, when traveling off base, she and the kids are in a military, armored vehicle with no windows. Graves knows his enemies will try to target them.)

-OC wants to be in a home-like environment on base to give the kids somewhat of a normal life? "Of course, sweetheart. Custom built. Whaddaya want?" (No way they would ever live in a normal neighborhood, too risky.)

-OC asks about schooling since they’re constantly moving around. “Don’t worry about it, love. Paid private school, one-on-one attention online and one-on-one in-person attention in the US. I’m not putting them in the shitty public school system. I want them in military universities.” (Plus, they’d start their military education young.)

I think that Graves, like most full-blood psychopaths/sociopaths as well as those who have a touch of it like Graves, he would equate giving his wife whatever she wanted (except freedom!), any material thing she wanted as well as his kids the best of everything with love. He’d equate sex, even dubcon sex, as love.

Now, more about kids. He’d want the best for his kids but there’s no damn way the kids would get whatever they wanted. He’s got some psychopath in him (see Graves Defragged posts as to why, based on the info we have, he does not score high enough on the psychopathy scale) so he’d literally shape his kids’ (and his wife’s tbh) behavior with positive reinforcement because that is what he responds to. Being a narcissist, he believes everyone thinks like him and that everyone responds to positive reinforcement (but in reality there are other ways of shaping behavior like negative reinforcement, negative punishment, and positive punishment). He literally cannot empathize or put himself in someone else’s shoes (again, see Graves Defragged posts). It’s not that he feels guilt/empathize and chooses to ignore it. This man’s brain is physically wired differently and cannot, cannot, CANNOT feel it. So of course he’d think positive reinforcement is the only way to shape behavior.

Now, Graves’s version of discipline. Yikes. Do I see Graves hitting his partner? Absolutely. Graves is in general not impulsive, especially when it comes to important, long-term decisions. For my Criminal Minds fans, he'd be an organized serial killer, not a disorganized one if that helps. His brain structure is different so his limbic system (the more animalistic part of our brains) can be overwhelming to him and I can see this overtaking his prefrontal lobes (PFC) when emotions are involved. What happens? He will lash out with violence, like, with little warning. (I can write another post as to how most homicides are actually crimes of passion, between people who know each other and not planned out/between strangers like the media/TV shows make it out to be.) He will hit his wife, hard, if she gets (what he deems to be) “out of line.” I can’t really see him doing it all the time. But I can definitely see that if his partner pisses him off enough, that partner can easily spend a few nights in a hospital. Yes, Graves sees his wife as somewhat below him: someone needing guidance, direction, and discipline.

For the kids: He’s the disciplinarian, no doubt and the kids go to mom for comfort. Mom gets in the way? He’ll shove her at the least. I can’t really see him seriously hurting his kids. His kids are half him and he’s narcissistic, remember?

There’s emotion involved and based on what I’ve been trained in, men like Graves can only feel two emotions strongly: joy…and rage. We’ve all gotten angry and done/said something we regretted. Imagine that tenfold with an overactive limbic system and some glitches in the frontal lobes.

Now: In one of my darker fics, Graves writes (and then burns) a letter to OC where he starts to feel some kind of guilt. But, xxavengingangelxx, you said he couldn’t feel that! I know 😉 But we all love somewhat happy endings, right? We all love seeing Graves with somewhat of a human side. That’s why I added that little tidbit even though in real life, he wouldn’t be able to feel that. In my fic he’d continue to blame OC for what she went through because “she should’ve talked when we first got her.”

Wow, ok. Two pages of this. I need to shut up. I went to school for this, I trained in this, I see this every day, and I read on average a book a week on this topic. I’m obsessed fascinated!

Anon, I hope I answered both your questions 😊 Any other questions, let me know!

[ronniaugust]

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

[filmtv2022]

Ineffable Agony

Pairing: Aziraphale x Platonic!Reader x Crowley

Synopsis: One quiet night, Aziraphale and Crowley's world is rocked. A fallen angel is dropped on their doorstep. Their very presence shoves the reality of their Earthly partnership back into view and calls into question the very stability of Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale and Crowley struggle not only to understand the depth of the situation they've found themselves in but also to save the reader.

Warning: bleeding/blood loss + death.

A/N: I tried my best to use gender-neutral language in this one. The reader does have hair, but other than that, I think their physicality is fairly nondescript. As always, I apologize for any mistakes. It's getting late & I'm super tired.

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

Warm light spilled out of the wide windows of A.Z. Fell and Co: Antiquarian and Unusual Books. Inside, surrounded by unruly shelves and half-empty bottles of red wine sat the oddest and most right pair in celestial history. Aziraphale had long since set aside his glass of wine, forgoing further intoxication for a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Crowley on the other hand had continued to sip away, which glass or bottle he was on remained a bit unclear.

Feeling his head turning fuzzy, the demon slowed his pace of consumption, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion and inebriation. In the days post averting the apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves settling into this new life. One free from apparent oversight from both Heaven and Hell. The two indulged in human luxury wherever and whenever they liked, unencumbered by the pull from their respective head offices. For the first time in millennia, they felt truly free to live as they liked, and what a life it was.  

“How does breakfast at the Ritz sound, Angel? I think I could do with a nice morning out, feeding the ducks, fancy tea… or perhaps we'll pop over to France for some crepes?” 

“That sounds lovely. ” Smiling sweetly at Crowley, he swallowed the last bit of his drink before standing to return the dirty cup to the sink in the back. 

A sudden burst of white light flashed like the sun, flooding the space before being replaced by the wretched orange and red of hell fire, stopping him in his tracks. Inky darkness replaced the flare as fast as it happened. Snapping his attention to the entrance, Aziraphale stood in observation waiting in anticipation for something more to happen. Having seen, the display from his seat, Crowley stood and joined the Angel.

“What’s going on?” 

“I…I don’t know. There was a…”

A sudden thump of something heavy smacking into the door forced him to stop speaking. To the human senses, nothing seemed out of place, the world continued to move just as it always had, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The air began to thrum with energy, the waves pouring into the store erratically, their intensity growing stronger the longer it went on. Crowley hissed, a guttural reaction to the feel of pain that roared through them both. Fighting to stay upright, Aziraphle gripped the demon’s shoulders as he doubled over in pain.

“Are you all right?” Pushing aside the ache that filled his own head, Aziraphale struggled to focus on the present, caught between concern for Crowley and whatever… or whoever was causing this to happen. 

“I’m fine, just dandy, but I’d be better if my insides weren’t twisting around knots.” 

“Yes, of course.”

Closing his eyes, the angel searched for a miracle, one strong enough to put an end to the horrific suffering that flowed freely into the room. Celestial magic hummed over his skin but died as he worked to make it so. Trying again, and failing, dread bubbled hot in in Zira’s chest. 

“It’s not working!”

“Obviously!” 

Groaning, Crowley clutched at his stomach as Aziraphale whimpered next to him. The angel’s head was full to the bursting point as if his mind was being ripped apart at the seams.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” 

Forcing himself to stand to his full height, Crowley removed himself from the angel’s hold, “Fine, I’ll finish this myself.” 

He too searched for a miracle. The darkness of his own magic flooded over his senses as he worked, but nothing happened. The lick of heat that always accompanied his miracles ran cold, leaving a chill over his skin in its absence. Aziraphale’s knees buckled as the pressure in his skull intensified. Dropping to the ground with him, Crowley held onto his angel.

Then as quickly as it started, the vibrations ceased to exist. Panting hard, the pair stood up on shaky legs. Crowley’s hand stayed firm on Aizraphale’s back, helping the Angel along as well as grounding himself. Stumbling toward the door, Zirh’s fingers trembled as he reached for the handle. Glancing at Crowley, he waited for some sign of reassurance, which was freely given in the form of a nearly imperceptible nod. Opening the door, their eyes immediately fell on the torn figure slumped face down on the ground before them. Slashes cut through their jacket and pants, the flesh below ripped to shreds and bleeding heavily. Ichor coated the surface of the stoop, pooling in a wide swath before spilling down the step. Kneeling down to see things more clearly, Aziraphale gently rolled over the stranger, the gore staining his hands red. 

“They’re an angel.” Laying them on their back, his fingers felt for a pulse. It was weak, barely more than a flutter, but it was there.

“Not anymore.” Crowley gritted his teeth as he spoke, the realization of what had happened hitting too close to home, “They’ve been cast down.”

“Cast down? But Heaven they’ve… they’ve taken…” 

“Taken their wings, yes.” 

“That’s not supposed to happen?” 

“And yet it did.” 

“Why?”

“Why not? It certainly makes a statement.” Reaching for their hand, Crowley slowly unfurled their fist, removing the gore-soaked paper from within. 

“A statement for who?”

“Us.” Peeling apart the folds, Crowley read the smeared words aloud, “To the attention of one A.Z. Fell & Anthony J. Crowley. Your actions have consequences that reach far behind the realms of Heaven and Hell. You’ve set something in motion that must be stopped.” 

Locking eyes with the demon, Zira struggles to find words, “What does this mean?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.��� 

Scooping the fallen angel into his arms, Crowley deftly made his way toward the second floor of the bookshop. Finding the first door on the right partially open, he pushed it open with his foot. A couple of strong strides had him standing next to the bed, scanning over their face for any sign of familiarity. Finding nothing, he placed them down on the mattress on their side before turning his attention to the wounds. Trying yet again to use his magic, Crowley reached out in search of a way to staunch the flow. The stream slowed slightly, but not nearly enough.

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Waiting for an answer, he pushed his palms into the worst of the gashes, but when no response came, he shouted for assistance, “Angel, a little help here!”

“Oh, yes!” knocked back into reality, Aziraphale made his way to the bed, his stained hands once again reaching for the being before him. Using what little magic he could muster, he managed to lessen the bleeding to a trickle.

Feeling it still running between his fingers, Crowley’s head dropped between his shoulders, a deep exhale releasing as he tried to let go of the panic coursing through his system. It was an unnatural state for the demon, one that he’d only felt a few other times in his 6,000 years of life. He’d done a keen job of compartmentalizing the memory of his own fall, relegating it to the deepest depths of his mind. This, however, hit too close to home. While he’d been lucky enough to keep his wings, the transition from Heavinly Being to a Demon of Hell was horrific at best. The darkness, the pain… the loneliness. It was all too much to think about even now, all these years later. 

Letting go of his hold on their wounds, Crowley gingerly placed them on their back, hoping the pressure who stop the rest of the bleeding. Sinking down beside the bed, he rested his head back on the mattress and closed his eyes tightly.

“What could they possibly have done to deserve this?” Aziraphale’s voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes never leaving their face. Brushing his fingers over their hair, he pushed the blood-coated strands out of the way.

“We better hope they wake up so we can find out.” Standing up, Crowley stalked out of the room, pounding down the hall toward the bathroom. 

Turning on the water, he let it pour from the faucet until steam rolled from the stream. Hot enough to scald, he scrubbed vigorously at his hands. The red of the gore was replaced by the angry color of his skin beneath as he fought to rid himself of the stains. Standing in the doorway to the bathroom, Aziraphale watched in concern, his brows furrowed at the sight before. Losing control of himself, Crowley snapped off the water, slamming his fists down upon the porcelain and letting loose a rage-filled growl. Pushing his way past the angel, he pounded down the stairs toward the front door.

Following in his wake, Zira called to his demon, “Where are you going?”

“To find out what in the hell is going on?” 

“But what if something happens… I-I should come with you.”

Snapping around, Crowley’s yellow eyes stopped Aziraphale in his tracks, “Stay here, take care of the angel… demon… thing. I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Nodding in agreement, Aziraphale watched Crowley drive away, the Bentley tires screaming along the pavement.

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

Agonizing flashes of pain radiated from the jagged wounds as cold sweat coated your skin turning into a slick mess of drying blood and perspiration. Spasms racked your body, each one more powerful than the last. You were dying, or so you thought. But what did that really mean for angel turned demon? You were even really alive to begin with? Where would your ‘death’ leave you? Certainly not in Heaven, they’d made it quite clear you were no longer welcome amongst their kind. So that left two other options. One being an eternity in Hell, rotting away with the other demons. The other was much more frightening… nothingness, your soul relegated to the black void somewhere between the realms. Alone. Cold. Unneeded… Unwanted. Stuck in purgatory for all time. 

Time ceased to exist, and all sounds and feelings apart from the physical and mental torment fell away as you were trapped in the endless cycle of pain. Giving into it all, you allowed yourself to fall further away from the light. The beacons of Heaven were only a dim glow on the horizon. Their cool white was replaced by the furious red of the gates below. It was warm, welcoming even. It would have been so easy to let go, to surrender, and yet some small part of you keep a firm hold on the life you’d had before. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to relinquish it fully.

The gentle press of a hand against your cheek pulled a quiet whimper from you, the touch kind and comforting. A tender voice spoke in a low mumble, their words unclear, but their intentions certain. There was something familiar about it as if a long-lost friend had come to visit. 

“I’m so sorry, but this is going to hurt.” 

Undoing the buttons of your shirt, the person gingerly pulled you into their chest, your forehead resting on their shoulder as they removed your top. A strangled groan fell from your lips at their ministrations.

“I know, I know.” Smoothing over your hair, they laid you back on the bed, this time on your side so they could access your body. 

Walking around to the other side of the bed, they began the delicate work of cleaning the wounds. Rag and after rag came away crimson, and the cloths were discarded nearby on the floor. Slowly, but surely, the gashes were stitched and covered. Finished closing the wounds, they began to wash away the rest of the blood as best they could. The task was slow and tedious. 

“There, that’s better. Now. let’s get you some fresh clothes.” 

Standing from the bed, Aziraphale sought out a pair of his pajamas. Returning to your side, he slipped the jumper over your head and shoulders, taking great care to not bump your most tender spots. Moving on, he carefully peeled away your trousers, the white was splotched with darkening red. Dropping them on the pile of used rags, he then shimmied the plaid bottoms over your frame. His hands were unsure and timid as he moved. 

Once again laying flat on your back, Zira pulled a blanket over you. Taking a moment to adjust the pillows, he sank back down into the spot next to you, his hands wrapping warmly around your own. 

“Who are you?” 

The previous question was barely more than a whisper, making the utterance of a name from your lips even more surprising. With eyes closed tight, and no other signs of consciousness, a singular word tumbled out for him to hear.

“Aziraphale…” 

Zira was left speechless. What about him? Why were saying his name? 

In a measure of cosmic timing, the telephone downstairs began to ring. It’s incessant trill bounding off the walls, calling to the angel. Leaving his spot, he was forced to let go of your hands. The loss of his touch caused a pained look to contort your features.

“I’ll be right back, don’t you worry.” 

Silence fell over the room, as Aziraphale quietly closed the door behind himself, leaving you alone. It was as if in his absence the darkness began to creep back in, closing the distance between you and the void. Black hands reached for you, threatening to drag you away from the world of the living. Fighting against their searing grip, your body twitched and thrashed on the bed. Soon the motions were followed by gasping screams, the sounds shrill and bloodcurdling flew down the stairs toward Aziraphale. The pounding of footfalls was masked by the blistering screeches from Hell that rang in your ears. Soft hands gripped your shoulders, calling to you through the panic.

“I’m here, I’m…” Placing his palm on the side of your head, the heat rolling off your skin nearly burned him. Knowing he needed to act quickly, he flooded your mind with celestial light. Instantly, your body began to relax and your temperature dropped.

Falling limp against the pillows, your chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Sweat had soaked through the collar of the shirt, staining it darker than the rest. Aziraphale’s fingertips ran in soft arcs down your face as he continued to murmur words of comfort. Fearful of leaving your side again, he yanked the chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed. Clasping your hand in his, he took a seat and waited. Crowley would be back soon enough, he’d promised.

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

Hours passed and eventually, sleep overtook Aziraphale. Slumping back in the chair, he managed to keep a hold of your hand. Returning to the bookshop with little to no information in hand, Crowley made his way upstairs in search of his Angel. The door to the first guest room was flung wide open, and he was greeted with the image of Zira fast asleep, the lines of worry still creased between his brows. With his promise to return in mind, Crowley softly shook the angel awake. 

“You’re back.”

“I promised, didn’t I.” 

“Of course, What did you find out?”

“Not much. Nothing seems out of place, and the lines between Hell and Earth are quiet. Whatever this is, it’s either from Heaven alone or somebody’s going to dangerous lengths to keep it hidden.” 

“Hidden? They were dropped on our front porch! How is that hidden?” 

“You’ve got a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that there's nothing on the radar.” Turning to look at the stranger on the bed, Crowley’s tone softened as he spoke again, “How are they doing?” 

“As best as can be expected… there was so much blood.” Shifting forward, Aziraphale adjusted his grip on your hand, “They spoke in their sleep while you were away. It didn’t make sense, but they spoke.”

“What did they say?”

“My name…”

“You name? As in Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, giver of the flaming sword and forestaller of the end of days” 

“That’s what I’ve said isn’t it?” Impatience touching the edge of the question.

“Yes, but how would they know your name?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea…” 

Crowley’s thoughts raced at the realization of what that could mean for Heaven. If they had fallen so far as to mutilate those they cast down then things were much worse off than he’d ever expected.

“Perhaps Heaven’s become more like Hell than they’d ever care to admit.” 

Stunned into silence, the pair sat quietly for a while, observing the rise and fall of your chest. The steady movement was just enough to ease some of the worries that festered. 

“There was one other thing they said while you were gone?”

“Yes?” 

“The phone rang while you were out, when I left to answer, they… they started to scream—terrible screeching wails, as if… as if Hell itself was coming for them. And when I returned, their skin… it was burning like fire. Between the screams, they were calling for you.”

“Me?”

Nodding yes, he continued on, “Over and over, begging… pleading for you. They know us Crowley, and yet I’m sure I’ve never seen this face before.” 

“Neither have I.” 

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

Morning broke over the quaint yet busy street, and the rumble of cars and voices floated in from outside. Your eyes fluttered open, and the unchecked sunlight beaming into the room assaulted your sensitive eyes. Hissing at the daggers of light, your whole body recoiled. Slamming your lids shut again, you scrambled back to retreat from the intrusive light. The mangled flesh of your back crashed against the headboard in your attempt to flee from the light. The sudden movement sent shockwaves through your body as the stitches in your wounds tugged sharply. Hearing and feeling your stir, Aziraphale and Crowley sat bolt upright in their respective positions. Zira in the same chair as the night before, and Crowley in the vanity chair across the room. 

Catching your attempt to flee from the overwhelming sensations, Aizraphale reached for your shoulders and tried his best to push you back down into the pillows. His sure hands were commanding and gentle as they kept you from hurting yourself further. 

“You’re all right. Careful now or you’ll rip your stitches.” 

Simultaneously, Crowley was up out of his chair, his own hand coming up to grip your chin, holding your face in his direction. Your eyes flew open again as if called to look by some hell-born bond. And what he saw brought a moment of hesitation. The whites of your eyes were flooded with a sickening crimson as if every blood vessel had burst. While your pupils were blown large, covering nearly the entirety of your eyes. Shaking off the unsettling nature of your appearance, the demon deftly removed his sunglasses and placed them on your face. 

“It’s their eyes, they’re not used to the light.” Stepping back, Crowley reached out a hand to Aziraphale, pushing him away from you, “Careful, Angel, emotions can be a bit unsteady.” 

“It’s all right, Crowley. As you said, they’re in pain, why don’t you let me help.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“Nonsense!” stepping back to your side, Aziraphale’s fingertips aligned with your temples as a gentle light filled the room.

Your breathing began to slow as the ache faded both mentally and physically. Slowly, you opened your eyes, finding that the dark lenses made the world around you much more bearable to view. Weakness replaced the pain leaving you incapable of moving, your power sat dormant, but hot beneath your skin. The heady mix of emotions melded together in what was certain to become an explosive combination. 

Pushing down the flames, you spoke as if greeting old friends, “Crowley… Aziraphale… finally.” 

“How do you know our names?” Zira’s question was far from accusatory.

“Oh Aziraphale, I’ve known you for thousands of years… the same goes for you, Crowley.” 

“Who are you? Why do you know us?” Crowley on the other hand couldn’t help the accusation that threaded over his words.

Tilting your head to the side, you focused on him. The yellow of his snake-like eyes glinted in the sun, strong and fierce in demeanor. 

“It was my job, to know you, to follow your biddings here on Earth. Like a celestial watchdog, I suppose.” 

“Watchdog?” Crowley tensed at the very thought of Heaven having watched him for millennia after his fall. 

“Yes. It was my job to track your movements, particularly in the years since your delivery of the AntiChrist. Well, you and Aziraphale. There was some… hesitation regarding the pair of you, given your shared history of questionable decision-making. Need I mention your flaming sword and apple debacles?” Your voice was weak and breathy as if speaking drained you of what little energy you’d recouped.

“All right, no need to rub it in. Enough about us, you’ve yet to answer our other question, demon. Who are you?” 

“Well, I don’t know how this works exactly, but I suppose my angelic name will do for now. I’m Y/N.” 

“And why are you here… Y/N?” Aziraphale uttered your name sweetly as if to encourage you to continue. 

“It’s simple really, I’m the same as you, Crowley. I asked too many questions… I doubted the ineffable plan.” Sinking further back into the pillows, you turned your head to look at the demon. 

“You what? Why?” Aziraphaled asked in shock.

“Because… you were happy.” Shifting your body slightly so that you could gaze at him, you felt a warm hand wrap around your own, “And the more I watched you here on Earth enjoying your lives together, the humanity … it made me think. Why were we going to end it all? And after such a short time as well? I saw how you looked at the world and couldn’t imagine it ceasing to exist. But even more than that… I couldn’t bear the thought of…” 

Your voice caught in your throat as a fresh spasm racked your frame. The tightening of the muscles along the expanse of your back ripped the air from your lungs causing you to gasp and groan. Folding forward at the waist, the glasses slipped down your nose exposing your eyes to the blinding rays once again. Desperate to block it out, you pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes knocking the sunglasses onto the blanket covering your lap. Steady vibrations rolled through the space around you as your power spilled out unchecked. A blood-curdling wail tore from your lips as your skin flushed hot from the touch of Hell once more. Shocked by the sounds, Aziraphale took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of you.

Crowley had returned to your side, his strong hands holding tightly to your biceps. The heat of your skin burned and blistered his palms, and yet he remained unfazed. 

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to- listen to me. You’ve got to push away, you’ve got to fight against it!”

Gripping you tightly, he watched as your body spasmed beneath his touch. Blood soon tinged the light cream of the jumper you were wearing, the sudden movements having torn the stitches from your flesh. Furthermore, the heat radiating from within you singed the fabric, leaving behind blackened holes in its wake. A wet gurgle accompanied your labored breathing as if you were drowning on dry land. Coughing and choking, a blackish liquid oozed out the corners of your mouth, the scene grew more horrific as the substances ran down the exposed column of your neck. Crowley’s palms smoothed over it, wiping away the mess as best he could, but it just kept coming. Every wet hack brought more of it flooding out to replace what he’d tried to clean up. 

“Crowley! Crowley, what’s happening?” Stammering, Aziraphale was frozen to his spot.

“They’re dying, the transition is consuming them.”

“But I thought-”

“Whatever you thought about this was wrong, Angel. This is the reality.”

“But I… what we can do?” 

“There’s nothing we can do except ease their pain and hope for the best. It’s up to them now. Either they find the strength to fight against the darkness or it consumes them.” 

Trembling, Zira moved to your side and eased himself down onto the bed. Cautiously, he reached out to touch you, his hand brushing over Crowley’s as he sought out your temples. 

Turning his head to look at the demon, Aziraphale whispered one simple word, “Together.” 

Understanding what he meant, Crowley nodded his head silently. Placing the pads of their fingers along your hairline, the two worked to rid you of the pain. A calming wash of peace flooded over you, chasing out the panic and terror. Your hot skin now sat cool to the touch, and the blisters covering Crowley’s hands began to heal. Slowly, your breathing regulated and the crackling wetness ceased to hinder your lungs. Serene peace settled over your features as they untwisted from the pain. Sensing that the limit of help and available miracles for this situation had been reached, both Crowley and Aziraphale sat back. Their eyes never left you as they watched for signs that their magic had failed. Zira was the first to speak

“What do we do now?”

“We wait.” 

“For how long?”

“Not long now I think.” Crowley’s voice was thick with emotion. 

Tracking the rise and fall of your chest, the pair watched as the movement became more erratic. The time between inhales turned more inconsistent and further apart the longer time went on. Eventually, it stopped altogether, and the last vestiges of pain fell from your features leaving behind a mask of perfect peace. 

“What do we do now?” Zira asked in shock.

“We find out who the hell is responsible and we make them bleed” Looking Aziraphle in the eyes, Crowley's own brimmed with emotion, “But more importantly, we live, we live for them.

[silly-lil-scribbles]

Introduction post!!

JAILED NOOOOOO

status: tired

current chance of a response if you dm me*: 20%

* does not apply to mousie cuz its my emotional support friend

- My name is Finn! You can also call me scribbles, soup, or really any dumb nickname will do. it/he <3

woah look at that.. its me.. on another website!! slight flash warning for spacehey btw ^^

if you havent read this in a while, i would suggest reading again cuz i update it a lot <3

- faggy but in the most aroace way possible

- as far as gender, boy-ish

- I MADE A JAIL ACCOUNT SO IF IM JAILED I MIGHT BE OVER THERE ‼️ @soup-has-been-imprisoned-noooooo

- I post about the magnus archives/protocol and my chem frequently, though I also just reblog a ton of random shit. may be nsfw but never anything explicit. Also I forget to tag for spoilers a lot so just know that there are magpod spoilers in general on my blog.

- Music artists I like: Cavetown, MCR, Mother Mother, Lemon Demon, Will Wood, Dazey and the Scouts, FOB, Nova Twins, p!atd, Noahfinnce, qbomb, Gum Disease, Sparkbird, Mischief Brew, Poppy, Be Your Own Pet, Pierce the Veil, Chloe moriondo, Faetooth, IDKHOW, the mechs, rabbitology, madalyn mei, scene queen, MARINA, she/her/hers, femtanyl, leathermouth, baby queen, pansy division, the spook school, specimen, egg, the crane wives, and of monsters and men

- Shows/Podcasts/Other Media that I like! DANGER DAYSS, Malevolent, The Magnus Archives, Stranger Things, Welcome to Nightvale (though I haven’t finished it yet), the Osemanverse, Nimona, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, ATLA, LOK, It, Hilda, Camp Here and There, Radio Rental, warrior cats, the silt verses,,,, there’s probably more but my memory is shit

- my blog is super messy so all of my art is under the tag #scribbles draws a thing and my original text posts (not the short personal ones typically, just the one i actually want people to see) are under #scribbles says shit.

- my body hates me very much (in other words im physically disabled)

- surprise, my brain also hates me very much! And yes also undiagnosed!

- tone tags are appreciated <3

boundaries n stuff:

- not ok with sexual or romantic comments

- platonic flirting is ok if we’re moots

- sex averse, feelings on romance fluctuate a lot but usually indifferent

continued:

- my feeling are really fucking wonky so 80% of the time i dont/barely feel emotions. please be patient and if i sound like i dont mean what im saying, i promise you that i do. but since i know how i would feel if i could, but i still cant feel anything, im trying my best to react accordingly so it may seem like its not genuine but it is. like. imagine youre writing. youre writing your characters reactions to everything, despite not actually being able to feel it. but since you know your character, you can judge hiw they feel in the situation you make them react accordingly even though you arent actually experiencing it yourself. now replace the character with you, thats kinda how i feel. sorry i know that probably didnt make sense but trying my best here lol

- i have a tmagp fic i just starting writing! If you wanna know more, posts related to that are under #electric desires have unraveled all my wires :(

- I have 4 cats and a dog, also a gecko

- i have a queerplatonic partner!! hes awesome and swaggy and writes so much. so. much writing. wow. not saying wow in a bad way im just genuinely impressed. chou if ur reading this i love you <3

- i also have a lovely best friend named zero whos super fun and cool and pathetic /vpos. my favorite excitable soggy cardboard box ilysm <3

- coyotekin therian !!

- My favorite colors are purple, cyan, neon green, and red

- I love interacting with mutuals and getting asks! plspls send me random shit in asks im begging

- I’m creating an animated series called Catlantis (still in progress)

- I have a love hate relationship with writing but i do it anyways so oh well

- Frogs.

other tags i use a lot are:

#soup poorly draws gay people out of obligation; my series of promised dyhard drawings.

#soup gets pathetic abouut friendship; me when im a sappy bitch about my friends or partner

#objectives list; save file for when i say im gonna do something so i dont forget about it

#catlantis save; hoarding info for catlantis

#insomnia induced rambles; i cant sleep and im making it your problem

#our lady of sorrows; not the song, my mcr inspired goddess i made up for my dnd character to worship

#scribbles asks; asks

#info save; good to know

#scribbles liveblogging tmagp; exactly what it sounds like

#art save; resources for doing art

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