#drawing dis was a new kind of hell i think

[mythtiide]

what the fuck kind of production meeting is this

[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Innocent Possession

—

Time Written - 11:52 p.m.

Arkham Knight/fem!reader smut

Tags: Smut, possessive, breeding/innocence kink. Jason might be a meanie. (Not Proofread. Have to work on a Saturday AND I BROKE MY NAIL 🫠)

This man is such a slut it’s not even funny anymore. LOOK AT THAT.👇 THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT 👆

—

His lush, heavy breathing fans along your exposed, maroon muddled neck. Sharp teeth dimpling your skin in harsh punctures, not enough to draw blood quite yet.

Hands that once cradled your neck like porcelain art in the distance of the past, now grasped your throat like a damn vice, pairing with his grip on your shoulder to force you back against him with each deep, aching thrust.

One of the major accomplishments of his new identity, his new life, was to find the innocence of his past. The highlight of his life for many years was brought to him, bound and gagged as Gotham was in the midst of evacuation. Your clothes were torn and rustled from aggressive attempts to subdue you, enough to leave bruises along your supple, upper arms as you thrashed and screamed.

Now those bastards of men lay dead outside the hall. Scattered corpses slumped along the floors, dreadfully bland decor that meant nothing to the Knight that holstered his gun after his short pursuit.

Your first greeting from the armored man was terrifyingly quiet, towering over you like a beast after approaching where you cowered.

His hands grasp hold of his helmet before you could beg for your life, only trying to make it towards the Evac buses before you were hauled off by those bastards. All words died on your tongue when steel cut blue eyes meet yours, brows faintly furrowed, his jaw taunt with incredibly strong tension.

You’re his ex, but not by choice. None of this was by choice. He vanished for a year, only to be presumed dead the next.

You never hated him enough to put that label on him. Any attempt to begin your list of a million questions abruptly halts before it even began, as his lips instantly assault yours.

“That’s a good girl. My fucked out little whore.” He grunts, squeezing your hips closer to his pelvis, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight walls.

The ropes that kept you bound now uselessly dangled from your wrists like cheap bracelets, the skin of your knuckles lightening as you helplessly plant them along the wall. Skin grew sticky with milky cum in between both your bodies, loud and wet, seeping down in between your bare thighs.

Watching and feeling your juices dampen the front of his red tactical pants was a punishment in itself, one he was feeling kind enough to save for later.

Maybe fucking your mouth would make for good punishment, listening to you choke as he grinds against your face, a pool of your combined mess seeping along your dirty knees on the ground.

“You better hope I never learn if any other guy fucked what’s mine, Princess,” He huffs against your kiss bruised lips, barely taking breaks to let you breathe. “Woulda’ rather had you cryin’ on fuckin’ toys than another man.”

Your whimper sounded like a cry, making Jason believe he could do so here right now, in this dingy room, underneath a dusty headlight. He hovers more over your back, tilting your head just enough to crash his lips against yours.

Feverishly responding to such a heavy, messy kiss, you moan fully against his rough, scar lined lips, amplifying when his tongue promptly invades. He licks with feverish hunger as a hand slips under your waist, huffing at your jolt at the sudden, angry assault on your nub, forcing your walls to deliciously clench towards a third orgasm.

The sounds he could pull from his sweet girl never ceases to amaze him. Even before his death, you were nothing but kind, the epitome of polite and heartwarming sweetness. What the hell were you thinking, choosing to date a guy like him?

Doesn’t matter if he died. No man is ever gonna take what’s been his for a very, very long time.

You won’t have to tell him now, but he’ll know. He has the capability to learn all your deepest secrets, knowing he could drag them out of you so easily.

“You miss me, pretty girl?” His hot rasp rumbles richly along the shell of your ear, sparking an uproar of your over sensitive nerves.

“You miss cryin’ on my dick, Princess? Missed how good it made you feel, how perfect you’d behave just to get bred? Tell me,” he grunts after relinquishing from the kiss. “Tell me you did. Say it loud, tell me you missed me.”

“I did-“ You spew out from quivering lips, ripples of tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I did, Jay. M-Missed you so much—“

Your voice draws out an empty whine towards your last word, hearing the collision of hot skin get louder as he gets harsher, brutal, eagerly desperate to make up for all the time he’s lost.

His sweet, innocent girl resorted to a jittery, babbling fleshlight. You could say anything he wanted, his guarded ego crumbling from the truth laced in your words.

You missed him, grieved for him, loved him. Yet, all he saw you as right now is his babbling whore, his whining little baby who never got used to the size of him driving deep into your cunt.

Honestly, he hopes you never will.

Your front further gets pressed flat against the wall, hot skin shivering from the harshness of the cold surface. Thick, precisely detailed armor digs deep into your back when he leans over you, keeping his persistent grip along your jaw, keeping you suspended just enough to breathe when he fucks you.

“S’been hell without ya, sweetheart,” He lowers his tone, whispering with a kiss of taunt as he rocks himself against your plush ass, keeping you cock drunk per his amusement.

“My baby wanna prove how much she missed me?” He cooes along your ear, smirking sadistically to your complete unawareness. “My baby wanna have a baby? She wanna have her pussy filled to prove she always loved me?”

You whine out ‘yes’ over and over, your back arching heavily from his relentless pace. The more space you involuntarily create, the closer Jason leans into you, the harder the plating digs into your back. The harsher the head of his cock endlessly strikes your cervix, making you just about lose it.

A series of curses spewed from your lips, resulting in three thick fingers shoved into your mouth, tasting yourself prior when he assaulted your soaked core.

“Language, babygirl,” Jason sneers against your cheek, despising the foul words that left those pretty lips. “Don’t badmouth me like a cheap whore. You’re my good girl. Fucking act like it.”

His other hand promptly pressed against your abdomen, forcing your lower half closer towards his waist. With his overwhelming free reign on your body, Jason bullies your sore, abused pussy with a series of sharp slaps, your clit stinging from repeated impacts.

You jolt out, sobbing out a series of apologies laced in short begs in the midst of various squeals.

In another life, he was your gentle giant. Now, he was a monster lusting after much more than blood. Jason was a simple man; wanting nothing more than the death of his mentor, and his ex’s warm cunt until he’s fully satisfied.

You whine out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a moan. He clicks his tongue, tilting your head back just a little more while halting his hand, catching sight of those teary, bubbly eyes and quivering lip.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You hiccup, your nails scraping along the wall from overstimulation.

“I’m sorry Ja-Jason, please—“

You stumble over words. A pure miracle over how flustered you were to say your desire after being his sex doll.

“Please what?” He demands, losing what patience he never had.

“A baby,” you whine out, purposely leaning into his palm, fluttering your teary lashes. “Give me your baby, Jason. I want it. Please.”

His brows raise in surprise, slowly rocking his hips whilst holding back a grunt. Yes, he said it, desiring it, but hearing you beg for this. To ruin your beautiful body with his tainted seed.

“M’Not gonna stop, y’know. Even when it takes.” His voice dribbled with lustful possession while his hips stutter back into an uproar, nibbling along your lobe with sharp teeth. “That what you want? You ready for that?”

You moan out an easy agreement with more eagerness than before, allowing your body to relax against his chest.

“Y’hear me, Princess?” Jason braced a hand along the wall, clutching hold of your hand in his grasp, keeping your fingers safe in his fist. “I’m gonna make you a mama by the end of tonight.”

The Bats can wait, for now. Once he’s dead, once he’s been dealt with, then he’ll have much more opportunity to celebrate.

[carigm]

DISCUSSION ABOUT EL’S POTENTIAL ENDING

So Millie has been giving a lot of interviews lately promoting her latest film Damsel, and ofc interviewers have been trying to get some ST5 info out of her. (We all saw that clip where Mlvn got mentioned to her and the face she made lol)

Well there are two new interviews in which Millie talks about El and they are making me kind of nervous…for lack of a better word.

The first is this one…

She was asked what song helps her cry, and she said “when it’s cold I’d like to die” Now that song famously plays every time a character dies on ST, so it wouldn’t be weird for an actor in the show to associate it with sentimental emotions. However, what concerns me a bit is that she mentions that this is “El’s theme” uh??? Since when girl??

The other interview I’ve already seen it floating around so I won’t add a clip, but she was basically asked about whether she knows how it ends for her character. She goes on to say that she asked for a meeting with the Duffers and she saw a board with her character’s fate and went “ohhhh” and slowly walked out.

I’m not gonna lie that answer is not inspiring happiness in me.

I don’t think the Duffers will “traditionally” kill El. In the sense that I don’t think they would fully kill her off (that would be too fucked up). I do wonder if her character will be around after Vecna has lost and the supernatural has gone away, though. Will she somehow disappear after the conflict is gone? Was she part of a bigger allegory or metaphor related to the supernatural plot of the show?

In the original pitch, the Duffers described El and Mike’s relationship as an Elliot and ET bond. ET is an alien, therefore at the end of the movie he has to leave Earth. He can’t stay there with the other characters. Are we gonna see something similar regarding El? She won’t die but maybe she has to go/be somewhere else?

I don’t want to alarm anyone it’s just that I feel like I’m putting some pieces together here lol…

The Duffers also admitted after S2 came out that El was originally written to “die”, as in she was gonna disappear when she took out the demogorgon. However, they changed their minds when the show got renewed for more seasons. Nonetheless, the Duffers have said that their ending for S5 draws inspiration from the ending of S1.

What the hell are they referring to with this???

I’m also aware that Millie is an actress and she’s drumming up suspense for the show. I know she has admitted to lying in interviews just for fun too. Can’t really trust an actor ever, but I do wonder if we’re seeing some truth from her here.

What do you guys think? Any theories?

[circeyoru]

Angelic Doctor _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Disguised Angel!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

You tried. You really tried. You ignored that blood-red colour his soul had and tried to change him, maybe even turn it into a lighter shard so he could be redeemed or saved in some other way. But there was a reason why that blood-red colour was such a dread to Angels like you, it was dreaded for the known reason that that mortal was an evil person. One that was barely forced to do evil, unlike those with criminal parents or cultists led down a wrong path. No, no, no. These people were the ones who picked their fate and enjoyed it

You had thought Alastor’s kindness and caring persona shown to you would help you persuade him to turn over a new leaf, but he merely favoured you and that was that. No benefits for you to take advantage of that would change the dark person he was

Alastor noticed your advances. Was it to get him into Heaven? Dear, you are so pure and adorable! Words can’t describe it! He was doomed to Hell the moment his shock turned to excitement at his first kill which was his father! Instead of getting him to Heaven, he wants to bring you down to Hell with him

He thought that spending the remainder of his time on Earth with you was enough, but it wasn’t. The more he spent his time with you, the more he wanted to keep you to himself. A darling just for him and his interest only

He started small, asking you out on days off or break time, taking you to visit local cafes he thinks are good or needs a companion to go for those pair offer deals. Then it started to grow, he’d take you to work, walk you back home as he insisted that the streets were dangerous since the cops had yet to catch that deadly killer, even wait for your breaks to come so that he could have a meal with you. He knows you’re a busy person, being a doctor that everyone relied upon and trusted and all that goodness

Originally, he thought your goodness and kindness were a facade to draw people in or a way to earn people’s gratitude towards you. Yet in his time with her, you remained constant, sure there were moments where you let out some steam and vent, but otherwise you were the perfect opposite of him. This just solidifies his fear that the two of you will be apart after one of you dies, forever

In a desperate attempt, he tried binding your soul to his so that even when you die first and go to Heaven, the moment he dies and is dragged down to Hell, you’ll join him. Vice versa

That when he found out you’re not even human. You were a literal Angel

You were made aware of Alastor’s attempt since your angelic powers activated themselves in the middle of the night while you were peacefully asleep. Your wings were summoned and your hair turned white as your halo appeared over your head. At the foot of your bed, you found Alastor with a spellbook of some kind. Around your bed was the setting of some ritual

Betrayed by your kindness, you rushed out of Alastor’s manor that he offered to you during the Great Depression that brought so much suffering. In a twisted turn of event, your time was up and your opportunity came in the form of a lightning shock. Thus, your return to Heaven after your journey on Earth in the city of New Orleans

Alastor barely had the time to compute the failed soul binding, then there was your angelic self, but the most devastating realization was your death. Of course, he knew you weren’t dead, but you’re as good as dead because he would never see you again. You’d be above and he’d be below. He’d never be able to contact you. Never

In a fit of uncontrollable rage and despair, he went on a murder spree. His clean-up getting more and more sloppy until he was cornered and killed by the pack animals that were called the loyal friends of humans

Note: A bit short, but that's all I got. I've seen a lot of Angel!Reader oneshots or headcanons or imagines and had to do one myself. It was fun but a bit short compared to my other ones ╚(″⚈ᴗ⚈)╗

P.S. I have no idea where you guys come from! Thanks for the support!! ( ´•ᗨ•`)っ ♡

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

[lina-lovebug]

I Will Protect You

Adam Warlock x fem! Reader

Reader is Gamora and Nebula younger sister. Seems to be a trend with Thanos' daughters to fall for goofy men.

Warnings: ptsd, torture, cursing

Adam did not know love.

He knows his mother loved him. That even though his sole purpose was to kill and work for the Sovereign, he could feel his mother's love for him.

But being in love?

He never thought about it. It was never a priority, especially as a killer who would have no business being intrigued by anything else other than what he was ordered.

"You are an idiot."

"What?"

"But I must say I admire your technique. Staring is also how I got my wife to notice me. Although I did it for hours on end until she noticed."

Drax told Adam, who was staring longingly at (Y/N), the sister to Gamora and Nebula and their resident healer. Adam watched as a pink light emitted from her palms, healing a small injury on one of the children's knees.

"She's very pretty," Adam breathed out. Yes, he had seen specimens that were 'perfect', but you were something entirely different. Your laughter was genuine and kind, and your smile held no ill intentions behind it.

"Drax, I feel sick when I am around her. Like my stomach gets all fuzzy and weird, and-and I can't think straight. Did she poison me?" Adam asked, wondering truly if you despised him secretly.

After all, your first encounter was not a good one.

Adam recalled being beneath you as you held a blade to his throat, pressing it hard enough to draw blood and the rage in your eyes was something to remember.

He now held a small scar on his neck.

"Silly golden man," Drax patted his shoulder, "you love her."

"Love? Are you sure?" He glanced back to where you were but you disappeared.

"What should I do?"

Oh if only he should have known that Drax was the worst person to ask for advice.

_

"I'm sorry."

I turned around to see Gamora. Her arms were crossed, she was guarding herself, as she looked at me with sad eyes.

"You have nothing to-"

"You had someone who was openly loving and caring, and that's not me," I swallowed a lump in my throat. Gamora changed once she realized that Nebula and I just needed a sister, not a combat partner. I saw her make that effort, and she learned my love languages and learned who I was as a person.

When she died, I felt a part of myself die with her.

And when this new Gamora, or old Gamora, had shown up, I wanted that back. But she was just as cruel and as mean as when we first fought and she beat me.

"Wow, you don't think I know that?" I retorted, avoiding eye contact as I continued to polish my knives.

"From our first fight when Thanos pit us against each other, I knew you were only looking out for the best. That you needed to be the golden girl in order to survive, but did you know what he did?" I asked, finally looking at her.

"Yeah, Nebula-"

"No, not to Nebula," I interrupted, standing up.

"When I was eight and kept losing, he didn't just lock me in my room. He had Ebony Maw do things to me. . .he started slow by making incisions in my back to see how much I could scream, and then did this," I lifted up my shirt and her eyes widened.

"He started putting viles inside of me that he found on other planet's to see how my body would react to them. That's how I got my power to heal," I explained, "but every experiment, every needle - it left behind this."

My stomach and back held my memories. It was littered in scars that would never go away and ruined me.

"I-I didn't-"

"No one knew. Not even Nebula until a few years ago," I admitted.

"I get why you fought so hard but. . .I don't think I can forgive you."

Gamora looked like she had just seen what hell was like. A light mist formed over her eyes, realizing that whenever she won, someone else had paid the price.

"I know you'll never be her," I admitted, "but you could at least try to act like we were sisters."

"You are," She grasped my hands tightly in her own, "you've always been. I'm sorry I never saw it until now."

I removed myself from her, "I know you mean it, but I'm going to need you to go."

She hesitated but nodded, "ok."

Gamora shut the door behind her and wanted to scream. All of the "What ifs" plagued her mind, wondering what would have happened if only she had noticed sooner. But before any tears could escape, she heard a shuffle and spotted the golden boy lurking.

He looked just like she did.

Shocked and furious.

"If you do anything to hurt her, I will slit your throat in your sleep," Gamora told him before walking off, leaving him stunned.

The mere thought of someone making you cry made Adam furious beyond belief, but torturing you? Seeing how loud you could scream - how much pain you could take?

He didn't know understand love but that was not it.

Adam was initially going to go to your room and try to 'woo' you, as Drax said to do. But now, all he felt was rage. He knew Thanos was dead, along with everyone who worked for him, so he didn't know where to put this anger.

"(Y/N)?"

"Adam, now is not a good ti-" as I turned around to face him, all I saw was anger. Red flashed across his face, just like the first time we fought.

"Adam? Are you okay?" I questioned.

"I-I feel angry, and I don't know what to do. I want to kill him," Adam ranted.

"Kill him? Who?"

"Thanos."

The name still left a mark on my mind and it made me want to vomit.

"He-he's dead, Adam," I said.

"I know. But he needs to pay for what he's done to you. It isn't fair. No one so kind, so generous and loving should ever experience that," He ranted, unknowingly confirming that Adam knew exactly what Thanos did to you.

"You heard. . ." This was my fear. I finally found someone who makes me smile and makes my heart race whenever we're together, and he knows.

He knows I'm fucked up. He knows I have ugly scars that'll never disappear. He knows I have a dark childhood. He knows I'm-

He shook me from my mind by placing his hands on my shoulders, "I want to protect you. From now on, no one will ever lay a hand on you again. I'll do whatever it takes, (Y/N), I promise."

"Why?"

"Drax says it's because I love you. I only knew my mother's love but I know that when I see you, I want to make you smile. I want you to be happy and always laughing and never upset."

Love? Shit, I didn't know the first thing about it. I always thought that the torture and the lectures were love because a father always wants you to do your best. But after the guardians, I felt lost. This friendship and trust, it was love, but how could I ever replicate that?

"Adam, are you. . .sure?"

He was caught off guard, "yes, I am. Do you not love me?"

"I do, but I don't know how to express that. You deserve someone who does," I told him.

"What do you do with someone you love?" He questioned.

"You hug them, you show that you're there for them no matter what, you learn what they like, you show it in physical ways. You kiss-"

"Then kiss me," His boldness made my whole body still and I felt like face become hot.

"What?"

"If you love me, then kiss me," He stated, still as blunt as ever. My heart was running a mile, and my mind was screaming at me to stop.

But I couldn't.

I lifted my face to his and kissed him. I expected it to be a small peck, but my body wanted more. I yearned for his gentle touch and placed his hands on my waist as he gently kissed back, still unsure about his movements. His lips were soft against mine, following what I did. As I pulled away for air, he pulled me back in. It made me gasp as his hands held me firmly, his lips desperate for mine. I felt breathless as he held me closer, and my hands began to venture into his hair.

"Seriously?!"

Peter's voice made me pull back, frightened that he had seen.

"Everyone but me!" He shouted as he walked away, and I was still firm against Adam's chest.

"I thought kissing was a private affair," Adam said, confused.

"Y-yeah, it is, but my door is open. Adam, you're sure you want this? With me?" I asked, still frazzled at the kiss.

"I only want you, and we can learn how to love each together, right?" He said, so innocent but so willing.

"Yes, we can," I smiled.

"I heard of this thing called cuddling and it sounds nice. Can we do that too?"

I gave him a soft kiss, "for however long you want."

[polarisbibliotheque]

Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

*

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

*

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

*

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

*

*

*

*

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

[deadghosy]

If I was in Hazbin hotel:

Author insert x Hazbin Hotel

Prompt: an author is bored as they decided to jump into their favorite fandom at this very moment.

Honestly I’m bored asf rn lmao.

Will, the blogger in tumblr known as Deadghosy was bored in his room as he listens to jay aka kub scoutz 😍 playing lil guardsman. Being even more bored they opened their palm as a digital portal opens-

OKAY STOP…at first I was gonna do that story ass shit but let me be real. I died by not getting enough sleep and I popped into hell for not liking those Jesus posts😭

I’d honestly be in the sloth ring for being lazy asf and being tired most of the time. But also be in the gluttony ring as well. A BIG BITCH GOTTA EATTTT😭

But I would probably still be able to go into the pride ring because of my pride in not needing help from people. 😭 I hate asking for damn help irl.

I actually have very sharp canine teeth and bottom rows, I might as well be mistaken for a humanoid demon lol/j

But if did have a demon form, it’s a bear since I eat and sleep all day lmao.

Alastor wouldn’t “hate hate” me but find me annoying. I would try to get on his good side and never do deals with him obviously cause I like my soul 😍. But dead ass I’m showing him lingo of gen z ☝🏾💀 cause ain’t no way ima hear this deer man yap in a way I can’t understand. This is not no new broadcast from the old times dude. “Salutations!-” HAVIN ASS😕

Friendship level: 5/10

Sir Pentious, I’m teaching this bitch how to do the whip and nae nae 😄. I love him personally cause he so silly sometimes. I would just pop up as he works on weapons but not help him lol. I think personally our friendship would be the kind to talk to each other for a little and stop and repeat😕

Friendship level: 4.5/10

Charlie would like me because of my hyperactive personality sometimes. Like if I’m fixating on something, she would listen and probably tell her father. But mostly i wouldn’t do the trust exercises, she’ll have to drag my black ass to do them 💀

Friendship level: 6/10

Lucifer and I would be so chill dead ass. He’s probably adopt me if I’m gonna be honest cause I also have a duck toy in my room as we speak 😭LITERALLY I MIGHT AS WELL BE A MINI HIM WITH HIM HAVING HYPER FIXATIONS.

Friendship level: 10/10

Vaggie and me, idk she’s chill but short tempered. But I don’t think she would hate me but only he suspicious at first, but then just be chill with me. I would try to help her around but procrastinate lmao

Friendship level: 5.5//10

Husk would probably be chill but not have an opinion on me honestly. It will depend on me just going to talk to him or being nervous to talk to him. I hate being awkward so I would just wave or sit by his bar and chill with him as I draw.

Friendship level: it’s probably between 3/10 and 5/10

Angel and me, idk I feel like I would be a small friend of his to help. He wouldn’t trauma dump that much on me cause I’m just a kid so it would be like “oh my work is shit but my boss is even more shit.” So I would just nod acting like I don’t know what’s going on. Plus, I would probably try to make him something with the help of Lucifer

Friendship level: ima be honest…it’s probably a 4/10 cause I’m a minor and he has problems he need it overcome. He doesn’t need a minor to yap his ear off 😕

The Vee’s…😕ain’t no way ima talk to them front to front if I’m actually gonna be their friends dead ass. I would probably mostly be friends with Velvette to hook me up on outfits😍

Friendship level: -1000/10

Valentino…HAH YOU WOULD HAVE TO CATCH MY BLACK ASS ACTUALLY DEAD IF IM GONNA CHILL WITH THIS BASTARD 😂 I’m burning his whole studio down in a cool ass pyro tf2 mask. Fuck that bitch, all my homies hate Valentino 🤭

ENEMY LEVEL: 10000000/10🖕🏾

Vox, I’m begging him to try to advance my phone so I can prank call heaven and hell at the same time. I’m using so much evil ass shit🦆 like dead ass ima say “I heard your high school bully is in heaven” to an angel so they would go crazy trying to find their bully lmao. But Vox would hate my ass cause..I’m me? Idk lol

Enemy level: 8.5/10

Velvette, eh I feel like we would be mutuals but not too friendly. More like a hook up just so i can get free outfits and she can get a quick teen model and I can leave with the fit fr 😍 no money, free outfit‼️

Friendship level: 4.5/10

Adam and me..we throwin hands. Full on fist to fist. He probably would try to cheat but nahhh, you gettin kicked in the manhood bitch 😄‼️ but yeah me and him, enemies for life. He’s funny I’ll admit, but be honest having him beside you irl💀

Enemy level: he better keep one eye open.

Sera…yeah she not letting me in heaven lmao 😭 that’s all ima say LMAOO

Friendship level: -0/10

Lute will 100% percent kill me for my mouth 😭. I’d probably say GYATT to her for funnies only to get stab. But I would just be quiet and try to be on her good side lmao

Friendship level: 2/10

Emily would like me but would be the type of person to keep me in check with my mouth and vulgar language as I just chill eating all the food in heaven. She def givin me good tours.

Friendship level: a good 7.5/10

That’s all I have lmao

[coff-in]

Can I request a dynamic where the reader is the youngest Graves sibling (like a year younger than Ashley) and is objectively the most "normal" of the siblings (before Ashley and Andrew kind of ruin it)?

She's still clingy with her big brother and sister, but she's also happy to make friends outside of them and actively cares about them a lot. The thing is that Andrew forbids her from dating and Ashley scares off a lot of her friends and when quarantine rolls around she's stuck with two older siblings who are obsessed with her and she's not too sure what to do about it, because her siblings really are all she has left now.

Bonus details, I think it would be fun if her relationship with Andrew is bordering on romantic/he has romantic feelings he doesn't admit to but shows (sleeping in the same bed, holding hands) and he dotes on her a lot as the youngest. However, this strains her relationship with Ashley, who is used to having Andrew to herself before the youngest sister was born, but also loves reader (platonically, maybe transitioning to romantically) because she's never done anything but love Ashley unconditionally.

So it's a complicated thing where Ashley's possessive of both but also scared they'll get together and abandon her, Andrew is extra possessive and protective of reader but denies it to hell (as he does), and reader is slowly realizing some things about her siblings that she really should've realized much, much earlier...

notes from coff-in: GRRRR IT'S LIKE YOU LIVE IN MY MIND!!!! oh to have two possessive and obsessive older siblings who love you way more than a normal sibling should, not like i'm complaining, hahaha! i'm sorry these asks are taking so long... i just wanna hang on to all your wonderful asks and daydreaming about them indulgently!! even so, i hope this was to your liking and thank you so much for requesting!!

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is 1 year younger than ashley, talks/mention of incest, brief NSFW

I love you more than I should...

Andrew and Ashley did not know why their mother thought she should have a second child. Maybe this was an accidental pregnancy.

When [reader] was old enough to walk and talk, Mrs. Graves delegated the responsibility of raising her to Andy, who was around maybe four or five years old at the time. He tried his best to keep them both happy and satisfied, but it was obvious to the keen few that he paid extra attention to his baby sister. Leyley wasn’t used to not having Andy’s full attention on her and expressed her hatred of the new status quo by picking on her little sister.

When [reader] would try to make amends with Leyley for whatever crime she committed, it shocked Leyley. She remembers when she was playing in the forest one day, picking on the bugs in the dirt, and having her little sister [reader] walk up clumsily to her with dug-up flowers in her hand.

“I’m sorry I made you upset, Leyley. Please don’t be mad.” Leyley picked on her less after that and a heated argument with Andy. In fact she tried to hang out with [reader] more often and tried her best to be nicer to her sister. She was someone besides Andy that she could call a friend. It wasn’t uncommon to catch [reader] following her older siblings like a lost puppy, eating lunch and studying with Andy or drawing and playing around with Leyley.

The other kids found it strange how [reader] would willingly hang out with Leyley. She was so normal like Andy was. She was sociable and had friends that she hung out with from time to time… until Leyley drew most of them away. The only ones that stuck around were Julia and Nina. Maybe [reader] knew that they were just using her to get closer to Andy or maybe she believed that they genuinely wanted to be her friends.

Once Nina died [reader] stopped putting herself out as much. She clung much closer to her big siblings and they were happy to dote and comfort her. Leyley made it so that [reader] promised with the blood pact she would never love anyone else but her and their bother.

As they got older, in middle and high school [reader] started to come out of her shell again. She tried to make some new friends but Ashley, again, did her hardest to scare most of them off. 

“What do you need other friends for?” She’d ask [reader] when they see each other during the day, “You have me and Andy! You don’t need anyone else!”

It’s not like Andrew was any better himself. His possessiveness was less visible to others but it was still there. “Ashley’s right, sis. You don’t need to worry about making friends right now.” (God, to be the object of affection between these two <3)

He didn’t like the idea of [reader] dating. He knew it was wrong for him to think of his sister like this, but he didn’t want to share her with anyone else. He’d never admit that he got off on the idea of being her first; her first kiss, her first boyfriend… To avoid the jealousy he knew he’d feel if [reader] dated he simply told her that she wasn’t allowed to do so. Any arguments that [reader] had about him or Ashley dating (mostly about him dating Julia) were casually swept aside with the excuse that he’s older than her.

Ashley doesn’t like Andrew dating Julia. He can’t leave her! Does Julia really think that she’s better because Andrew can fuck her and not Ashley or [reader]?! While Ashley leaves 200 violent voicemails for Julia, [reader] calls Andrew a lot during his time in college to ask if he could come home.

“I miss you.” [reader] would say in that low, pouty voice that’ll tug on Andrew’s heart and make his cheeks red. “Could you come back this weekend to visit?”

And he’d say “Of course.” because he could never deny his little sisters.

Once they’re stuck in quarantine, Andrew and Ashley start showing (or at least then [reader] starts noticing) their more possessive and… weirder nature.

They’re always with [reader] except for when [reader] has to use the restroom. Ashley’s making [reader] do some chore with her or Andrew’s subtly holding [reader] close to him when he’s smoking on the balcony. Ashley would make her teasingly suggestive comments about [reader] and Andrew would immediately shut them down while avoiding looking at [reader] because he does think that they have a merit to them.

Andrew sneaks into [reader]’s bed when the nightmares come and cuddles up to his baby sister. He holds her close in his arms and rests his face on top of her head or in the crook of her neck or on her chest with her chip over his head. He relishes in her warmth and takes deep inhales of her scent to comfort himself. 

Whenever [reader] does chores, he pats her on her head and says that she did a good job and that he’s proud. [reader] insists he praises Ashley too and it makes her heart pound a little faster and harder. 

Skip over to Episode 1 when they break into the cultist apartment, Andrew tries to avoid having [reader] see what’s up. [reader] is reasonably freaked out and upset about having to dismember and EAT a dead guy until Ashley proposes that she’d just starve to death. Andrew argues with Ashley about letting their baby sister starve and would probably insist with Ashley that [reader] should eat the dead cultist.

Ah, this is going to be very lazy of me but I’m going to skip over to the Burial vision scene. In the vision, the siblings see themselves (all three of them) post-coitus, naked and marked up by each other. (Very self-indulgent but [reader] would be placed in the middle of them)

Andrew’s an embarrassed mess because holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! 

He fucks his sisters. He fucks his baby sister, [reader]. He’s as elated as he is scared… she’s not like that. She wouldn’t fuck him. She wouldn’t fuck her older siblings and she wouldn’t want them as much as he wants her… would she?

Ashley’s never really considered [reader] in a romantic light like that, but she doesn’t mind it at all. Having [reader] close to her and Andrew like that brings a warm comfort to her.

With the way the trinket works, [reader] probably wouldn’t be able to see the vision since she can’t touch it when Andrew and Ashley are holding it in their hands. She’d be sleeping on the couch, waking up when she heard Andrew and Ashley yelling about the argument.

I wanna write smut about them having a hot incestuous threesome so badly but I’m losing steam right now. They all confess their feelings about each other and kiss tho. By the time Episode 2 ends [reader] has been sort of worn down by Andrew and Ashley’s weird feelings that she’s like “Yeah I’d fuck my siblings because I love them!”

----

coff-in

[for-the-sake-of-color]

AAYYEE the 218th's Urban Crisis Response's very own Crisis Company as a revamped Draw the Squad!

after a year and a half worth of drawing practice, I like to think I've come a long ways, though my squad themselves have changed very little

Though if you're new here, perhaps some introductions are in order? Below the Cut

Captain Jet - Leader of the 218th's Crisis Company and Heartbeat of the Family

Captain Jet, formerly known as Corporal Jettison before he lost nearly the entirety of his Company during the first battle of Geonosis, only gained his rank due to the combination of a field promotion and a paper pusher rushing to get the 218th put back together with what forces they could get their hands on after their devastating first deployment, without vetting his Shiny New Promotion through the proper channels. Nevertheless, Captain Jet is dedicated to his soldiers, and to being the Kindest man he can be, not wanting any to suffer the burden of loss and shame he felt as everyone he ever grew up with died in the first week of the war.

Lieutenant Margo - Second in Command of Crisis Company and one of the Finest Technician's money can Make

The first Addition to the newly reformed Crisis Company, Margo left behind her own squad command to be the second to her Captain, Jet. Trusting in his judgement, Margo would follow him to hell and back, though for the first half of the war she largely follows him to a glorified guard posting for the republics embassy and shipping warehouses on Brentaal. She's a fine Leader and an even better Tech, though her specialties lay much closer to Mechanics than to Code-breaking. The only thing that tops her technical skills is her love of having a Fun Time. Body and Mind of a Super Soldier, personality of 'if a frat-boy was a girl'

Specialist Nihlus Brek - Ancient Sith Archivist and a loving Guardian of his squad with a Sadistic streak

After being shown selfless kindness by the Captains personal squad after the loss of his clan and his rough awakening from a forced stasis, with the 'permission' of the Jedi Council, Sith Lord Nihlus Brek now serves in the GAR under the command of Captain Jet, the only man who's orders he follows without hesitation or question, killing or healing as needed for the man he now calls 'Alor and Brother. Though it is true he holds love for his squad, the real secret of his unwavering loyalty is the Blood Oath he swore to Captain Jet, his orders now bound by sith alchemy, Nihlus has given his leader unwavering control over both their destinies.

Sergeant Cynic - Heavy Weapons Expert and Artist with an Attitude

Though an Urban Crisis Response unit doesn't particularly need a soldier who's second greatest passion in life is blowing things up with his rocket launcher, Cynic earn his place on the squad through the power of nepotism. That is, Margo's one condition for leaving her previous squad behind with little complaint, was that she got to bring her favorite brother with. Although his name may suggest otherwise, this pessimist (though he considers himself a 'realist') has a love for all things pretty and colorful, and quite the talent for copying it down in his small sketchbook, always making room for his small assortment of watercolors in his combat kit.

Corporal Lake - Spotter of the Squads Sharpshooter duo and self proclaimed Ethics Committee

Lake is likely the only one of the Captains squad that, once you get to know them, could be described as the republics ideal of a Good Soldier. That is, Lake is one of the few who spares even a second or third thought for the success of the mission and collateral casualties over the lives of his fellow squad mates. He is probably the only one who could say he would not give a thousand lives just to spare those he cares for. Nevertheless, although he has his own personal misgivings over the result of some of their missions, Lake is grateful for his life, for his family, and for the many chances he is given to fight another day. And, as always, his Captains word is Law.

Corporal Torch - Deadeye of the Squads Sharpshooter Duo and resident Troublemaker

"We're here for a fun time, not a long time!" Are common words for Torch to say before getting his ass beat for replacing Cynics fancy face lotion with space Nair or being put on 'Fresher duty for his ballsey yet comedic insubordination. Captain Jet often says the only thing that stops Torch from being demoted to maintenance duty altogether is his skill with a rifle, hitting targets your typical human would have needed the force to even perceive. Though in truth, Jet would not trade Torch's levity and loyalty for the galaxy itself. Torch and Lake are mirrors of one another, by choice, as it brings them great joy to be mistaken for one another by not only natural born humans, but also unfamiliar clones. As some of the last living soldiers from their original bloc of trained sharpshooting specialists, they refuse to be parted from one another, unable to bear the thought of losing the last of their batch.

Field Medic Heron - Resident Healer with a Big Secret

Heron tired of front line Medicine fairly quickly, as his zest for death did not hold up to losing his brothers one by one, upon joining the Urban Crisis Response Specialists of the 218th, his steadfast work and easy bedside manner landed him his place in the Captains squad rather easily, and he took rather well to glorified guard duty. That is, until the fateful day where an assassin droid hidden among their cargo took his leg, though in a feat of the butterfly effect, directly led to the squad meeting their Sith. His secret? On shore leave, Heron likes to kill people. In order to stay in line with both his own ideas of morality and his Captains idea's of ethics, not that Jet hears of his activities from the medic directly, he dresses in plainclothes and limps around, waiting for some unfortunate mugger to make their move. Heron craves the feeling of holding someone on the brink of life, having power over their fate, and then denying them the salvation they seek. And maybe sometimes he takes a bite or two, but that's his business.

Specialist Sprig - Explosive Ordinance Disposal Technician and Company Spymaster

Specialist Sprig, formerly of the 398th Ordinance Corps, got his name as a result of a growth tube malfunction in his infancy, leaving him 2 inches shorter than your average trooper. Despite this 'defect' as the Kaminoans would refer to it, Sprig would rank among the top of his batch with his skills in bomb diffusal, having a deft touch and a keen eye for detail. In a cruel and ironic twist of fate, Sprig's greatest fear is dying in an explosion, vaporization, desintigration, you name it. Reassignment to the 218th and his posting of glorified guard duty was a dream come true. Proton bombs vs backyard terrorists? Sprig knows exactly which he would take in an average day. With his keen eyes, sharp ears, and strong memory, Sprig also excels at information collection. His shorter stature and friendly demeanor is often very encouraging for those who have a burden they'd like to share, though one has to keep in mind, he has the ear of the Captain one short comm call away.

[iverna]

I've been in a creative slump lately, and I think I finally figured out why, and I want to share because maybe I'm not the only one.

So AI is here. And fandom engagement is wayyy down. And it feels like there are a dozen different ways that you're devalued as an artist/writer/any kind of creative person who makes and shares stuff. I've seen people talk about the lack of engagement and positive feedback, and that's definitely a trend as well and doesn't help. But there's something else at work as well.

I thought I was just burned out, maybe a little depressed, but I actually do have creative energy. I do stuff all the time. I'm full of ideas. It's only when it comes to fanart and fanfic and basically anything I'd share online that I sit down to do it and immediately want to give up and fall asleep.

I think I finally know why. What happens is, I make a thing, I share a thing... and it's met not with hate, or silence, but with demands for more. Every fic writer has probably run into this, the comments that just say "more please" or "when will you update". We all hate it. It makes you want to never update again. But when it's only the occasional comment, you shrug it off, maybe complain to your friends, done.

But I feel like it happens way more nowadays. It's a general shift in attitude. People do it with everything now. I like this thing, give me more of it. And I kind of get it, but also, I don't. Not to the extent it's happening at the moment.

The textbook example for me is still Rogue One. People loved it... and demanded a sequel. For Rogue One. A movie in which every single main character dies at the end, and which leads literally directly into A New Hope. What would a sequel even be about? The five minutes Leia spent running from Vader? It makes zero sense. The sequel to Rogue One already exists, it's called A New Hope and it came out over forty years ago.

But they didn't think about that. They didn't give a moment's thought to what a sequel could be, they just wanted more.

And as the person who made it, that reaction tells me a) you didn't pay a single ounce of attention to what I made because you're asking for something that makes no sense and b) nothing I make is or will ever be enough. The reaction is always "make more".

And that is just demotivating as hell. If nothing I do is ever enough, why even try? I might as well give up. If posting something means I'll have people demanding more, it's better I don't post anything. There's also, I think, a part of me that has her arms crossed and is refusing to make any more stuff for those people. But that's a small part of it. Most of it is honestly just an overwhelming feeling of wanting to give up. Which explains why it feels so much like depression.

So we've got this environment where people just demand more and can never get enough, and don't even really appreciate what they have because they're too busy demanding the next new thing. And it's not flat-out hate, I know some people will even insist it's a positive - after all, would I ask for more if I didn't like the thing? - and that's what's made it so hard to notice what's happening. It's like the attitude just sneaks into your brain and poisons you from the inside.

So I think this how I got to where I'm at currently. I hate it here. I hate sitting down to draw or write and immediately going "meh". I'm going to work out getting out of it. I can't change people, so I'll have to find a better way to deal with the situation, a way to keep it from doing this to me. I don't know how yet, but that's the next step.

I just wanted to share to see if it resonates with anyone, if anyone else feels like this? I only started figuring it out yesterday when it sort of hit me, so maybe it doesn't entirely make sense yet, but yeah. That's where I'm at.

[makeste]

BnHA Volume 36 - Reaction Journey Part 2

continuing on our journey following yesterday’s volume 35 post! some more out-of-context random bullet point reactions taken from my reaction posts for each chapter. the full reactions for each chapter will go up eventually once I finish my manga catch-up marathon (currently at chapter 367).

spoiler warning: just fyi, this post will obviously feature spoilers for chapters 350-362, BUT it will also include a couple of stray spoilers from chapter 403 as well, so just a heads up for that if you aren’t fully caught up!

Chapter 351

friends, we are about to embark upon the most dramatic, theatrical, Shakespearean disaster of a fight this series has ever witnessed. brace yourselves

yes Shouto, that’s just cuz he literally doesn’t feel pain and doesn’t care if he lives or dies :’)

IS THIS PART OF THE PLAN??? IS SHOUTO NOT FIGHTING BACK BECAUSE HE’S TOO BUSY CONCENTRATING ON WHATEVER THING HE’S DOING?? BECAUSE IF NOT HOLY SHIT. YOU’RE ALLOWED TO FIGHT BACK SHOUTO

actually come to think of it, he hasn’t attacked once so far. not even the usual giant ice wall opener move. he’s definitely got something up his sleeve. but my god man in the meantime this is hard to watch

sorry Touya, but as justified as your grudge against Enji might be, your grudge against Shouto? not so much. I get it, life handed Shouto the keys to your dream life and he had the audacity to say he didn’t want to drive. but Shouto is allowed to make his own choices, and want his own things. for that matter, so are you. but you’re just stuck. gah. it’s so frustrating and yet the psychology of it is so incredibly compelling

“I might not have the clearest sense of my own identity, but at least I didn’t kill 30 people” fjdsjd gottem

“phosphor” is such a next-level attack name. pretty sure it has more to do with light than fire/heat, but with as white-hot as this attack looks to be, I get it and it definitely works

Chapter 352

love that Kaminari’s instinct when seeing this giant flaming X on Shouto’s chest is to immediately poke it. repeatedly. while Shouto just stands there and vibrates uncomfortably

finally!! a proper half-cold-half-hot ultimate supermove!! though I still don’t quite understand how “making fire that doesn’t actually burn things” is going to help in a battle in any kind of way. BUT I CAN’T WAIT TO BE PROPERLY EDUCATED

he’s thanking Deku. for helping him start to discover his true self all those eons ago. what a sweet sweet boy

omg here it comes ULTIMATE MOVE YESSSS

SLAM DUNK NAME AND VISUAL!!! 10/10!!! HELL FUCKING YEAH WAY TO LIVE UP TO THE HYPE HOLY SHIT

fuck. okay, yeah. if you give me a shounen character reminiscing over his hard-earned personal growth, and feeling profound gratitude toward his friends who helped him get this far, and then you suddenly hit me with the crying little kid panels to remind us of who these two characters really are, at the end of the day, once you strip away all the rest of it. you show me little baby Touya who’s just desperate to be loved and validated and acknowledged. and you show me little baby Shouto who understands his brother’s feelings completely, and doesn’t want to actually be here doing this, but knows that he has to because there’s no one else who can. if you go ahead and show me all of that!! well then!! I mean, good fucking job!! you knew exactly what you were doing!! well done!! you got the tears again so well done to you!! lmao

Chapter 353

okay is every single person here trying to jinx themselves now?? you guys do realize how absurdly lucky you are that Shouto finished his epic battle in the span of only 2 chapters? are you trying to draw more misfortune to yourselves??

“hey guys! great news, Todoroki already finished his fight” fdfklskf Kacchan’s gonna fucking lose it lmao. to say nothing of poor Deku who’s still busy hurtling across the Pacific

WHO IS THIS??!

lol what. he’s wearing a shirt collar and suit jacket as pants. and he’s got weird carpet hair and a disquietingly sexy face. AND FLOWER POWER?? who, is this, and why has it taken us 353 chapters to meet him. OR HER??? GENDER-AMBIGUOUS ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE. YOUR FIGHT BETTER BE COOL AS HELL YOU WEIRDO

how is Spinner actually TWENTY FEET TALL NOW??? like, that earlier panel wasn’t actually a fluke or something, that was actually happening?? you smashed a bridge to pieces?!? somehow you’re a Kaijuu now???

this seriously cannot be it though, especially since Iida didn’t even get to do anything. and I really, really, really fucking hate how nervous it’s making me noooo whyyyy

Chapter 354

there is no possible way anything Endeavor tries here will actually work. he’s giving off so many dead man walking vibes right now and I am not okay

DOES FIRE EVEN WORK ON AFO?? LORD KNOWS IT DOESN’T WORK ON ANYBODY ELSE

Hawks is shouting at him lol. “remember what happened to All Might in Kamino!” for real though! how do they keep falling for it??

oh my god what a sickening realization. to learn that the reason you never found your child was that he was taken. not killed, but taken. that it was never even an accident at all, but deliberate. he was targeted and hurt and taken because of you. and the man responsible for it is standing right here in front of you

YOU HAD SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLDS??? YOU HAD MORE SUPERPOWERED OP SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLDS IN RESERVE THIS ENTIRE TIME???? AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO USE THEM????

what’s AFO even going to do to them lol. I would love to see AFO stumble around and try to come up with some big intimidating weak-point-attacking speech for Tokoyami “The Darkness Is Where I Make My Home” Fumikage. he would probably love it. just sit there hungrily lapping it all up. “no but please keep telling me more about how tormented my soul is, this is great”

Chapter 355

I can’t believe Jirou and Tokoyami are about to fight god

I love Tokoyami and Hawks’s relationship so, so much. there’s just so much trust between the two of them. like on the surface it might seem like Hawks keeps underestimating Tokoyami every step of the way. but in reality it’s more that Hawks, being a former child soldier himself, is extremely reluctant to subject someone else to that, regardless of whether the circumstances are the same, and regardless of how capable Tokoyami keeps proving himself to be. yet another example of Hawks being continuously forced to walk a razor-thin line between decisions that he can live with, and decisions that will actually keep him alive. Tokoyami is a phenomenally powerful fighter, and his presence here absolutely helps tip the scales in their favor. but it’s also an insanely dangerous place for him to be, and so of course Hawks doesn’t want him here

meanwhile on Tokoyami’s end, he started out simply wanting to prove himself to Hawks, but once Hawks opened up to him, his exasperation almost immediately gave way to admiration and respect. and then he almost lost him at Jakku, and I think that really did a number on him, and so he’s so attached to and protective of him now. and I think that in turn has caused Hawks to try and keep his distance a little more, both because he has no idea how to deal with that emotionally, and because he doesn’t want Toko getting hurt. it’s such a delightfully complex relationship and I want to hold it and protect it with everything I have

AFO IS A BAD BITCH YES, BUT YOU ARE EVEN BADDER JIROU GET HIS ASS

lol he is REALLY cheesed about her showing him up in the previous chapter. definitely took it personally

I’m getting so many Bakugou vibes from this. legit getting chills over here. “shut your stupid mouth already.” she recognized the small dick energy a mile away

DIDN’T EVEN NEED ENDEAVOR AFTER ALL LMAO. THAT’S THE COOL, REFRESHING POWER OF JIROU

Chapter 356

AFO LITERALLY CAN’T EVEN PROCESS WHAT’S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW AND IT’S AMAZING

it’s okay to admit you just suck and are getting your ass whooped by Hawks and the sixteen-year-olds

what are you, a Zelda boss?? so he’s got a fucking phase 2 now?? WHY ARE YOU THE MOST ANNOYING MAN

DON’T DIE ENJI YOU FUCKING LOSER YOUR BOYS NEED CLOSURE AND SO DO I GODDAMMIT

ARE YOU REALLY DOING THIS WITH JUST THE ONE ARM YOU ABSOLUTE LUNATIC

anyways, wow. after getting COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY shown up by newly minted main character Jirou Kyouka, Endeavor got his moment after all. whatever else he may be, he’s a damn good fucking hero. and if anyone deserves to get punched so hard they burst into flames, it’s AFO, so yeah

Chapter 357

what a sassy little birb. like how he now has the sexy soon-to-be scar as well! you are now officially a Todoroki

YOU CAN SHOOT FIRE OUT OF YOUR EYEBALLS NOW?? YOU SHOOT LASERS?? THAT’S JUST A THING THAT YOU DO NOW???

fff Endeavor please don’t die :|!!!!

please zap AFO’s other hand!!! I am getting so freaking anxious right now. he’s either gonna win it all here or else something terrible is about to happen

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

DID HORIKOSHI KNOW??? WHEN HE WAS DRAWING THIS??? THAT IT WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO BE THE SINGLE WORST THING ANYONE HAS EVER DRAWN!??!?!!

OH MY GOD I SCROLLED DOWN AND IT WASN'T ACTUALLY THE END OF THE CHAPTER AHHHHHH. FOR SOME REASON I JUST ASSUMED IT WAS. POSSIBLY BECAUSE ALL I WANT RIGHT NOW IS TO FLING THIS MANGA AWAY FROM ME AND INCINERATE IT WITH A BLOWTORCH

Chapter 358

did TomurAFO really just slap a huge chunk of the iconic U.A. school building to pieces with his disgusting infinityhands all unceremoniously just like that. is nothing sacred anymore. what are you gonna do next?? kill off the most popular character??

“so anyway here’s 1000 words on why me becoming a despot is actually a good thing” dude just shut up and get back to slapping shit already

KACCHAN WENT TO THE SUPPORT COURSE FOR AN UPGRADE?? AND WE WERE DEPRIVED OF THAT ENTIRE INTERACTION?! YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT KACCHAN HAS MET HATSUME MEI AND IT WAS OFFSCREENED?? I am suing this manga for wasting my life

magnificent. inspired. I can’t believe this child is going to be fucking dead like three chapters from now (˘̩̩̩ε˘̩ƪ)

THE PALPABLE FUCKING CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!

FUCK YEAH KACCHAN MAKE THE BAD MAN GO BOOM

Chapter 359

is this dude actually livestreaming the battle

bitch he’s going toe to toe with the final villain while you’re down in the basement making a Tiktok. you are not the same

HIS FUCKING ARM, FUCK ME. FUCK. FUCK!!

his arm is literal splinters right now and all he cares about is that TomurAFO wasn’t impressed with his new cluster move :’’’’) it’s okay. it’s okay this is fine

this is literally Aizawa’s worst nightmare. greatest fear come to life. one of his students is hurt and in danger and he can’t do anything. Shirakumo all over again. Bakugou is about to die right in front of him and he’s so fucking desperate but he can’t do anything

omg. what a goated fucking chapter. Bakugou angst! Aizawa angst!! Aizawa Being Terrified Over An Imminent Threat to Bakugou’s Safety angst!! and to top it all off, “YOU’RE CLOSER TO MIDORIYA IZUKU THAN ANYONE AND THAT’S WHY I’M ABOUT TO MAKE YOU SUFFER” angst. hoooooooooooly shit

Chapter 360

so he’s literally just. torturing him. just fucking around. wow

WHY IS TOMURAFO JUST CONTINUING TO HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD TO KEEP ON DOING THIS. WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL THE REST OF THE HEROES?? FFS, DEKU’S NOT HERE TO THROW A BACKPACK THIS TIME, WHY DOES EVERYONE ELSE FUCKING SUCK SO HARD AT SAVING HIM?!

Studio Bones is gonna have to utilize some sort of AI program to autogenerate these hand things for all their fight scenes. I feel really sorry for that AI and I just hope that it doesn’t somehow develop sentience and take revenge on us all. it would be within its rights to do so

MIRIOOOOOOOO. ACTUAL BEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES!!! YOU CAN LAUGH AT KACCHAN’S HERO NAME ALL YOU WANT YOU FUCKING STUD. YOU EARNED IT

why was this man not our vanguard. why, when we lost our trump card in the first ten seconds of the fight, did it not occur to a single person that, WELL HEY, SINCE IT LOOKS LIKE THE DEKU THING MIGHT NOT END UP WORKING OUT. WHAT IF WE JUST, YOU KNOW, MIRIO

welp. if anyone needs me. I’ll be in my room crying over fictional characters

Chapter 361

QUICKLY NOW! WHILE HE’S DISTRACTED REMEMBERING HOW HE USED TO BE CUTE AND NOT-EVIL!!

why do I feel like Mirio also got the strange, fleeting impression that he was talking to someone else other than TomurAFO for a moment there? he looks like he’s WEIRDED OUT AS ALL FUCK, but also genuinely sorry for offending him lol

JEANIST IS STANDING UP AND TRYING TO DISTRACT TOMURAFO TO PROTECT KACCHAN, I AM YET AGAIN AWASH IN FEELINGS

I know I sound like a broken record here but Tamaki, not allowed to die, etc. etc. just so we’re clear Horikoshi. I don’t trust you to remember!!

WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY FEED THIS KID BEFORE THEY WENT INTO BATTLE OMFG!!!!!!!

WHAT A TERRIFYING THING TO BEHOLD. I DON’T SEE HOW THIS IS GOING TO DO FUCKALL AGAINST TOMURAFO NO MATTER HOW EXCITED THEY ARE ABOUT IT, BUT EVEN SO, GODDAMN

Chapter 362

oh my GOD WHY DOES MY HEART ALREADY HURT SO MUCH aaaaugh I’m not going to survive this am I. Kacchan we’ll die together

did he already know?! NOBODY FUCKING TOLD ME HE ALREADY KNEW?? HE KNEW HOW IT WOULD END, AND HE WENT WILLINGLY. THE SACRIFICE PLAY, oh my god, my heart is pieces

Jeanist’s eyes are so wide and he’s using his quirk and telling Katsuki to stop. he knows. what tipped you off. was it the “take care of everyone” while standing up with sudden terrifying purpose even though he’s already half-dead. was it that. it was that wasn’t it

I AM SO NOT FINE RIGHT NOW IT’S UNBELIEVABLE

that’s it. it’s over. Horikoshi’s won. it’s all fucking over we never stood a fucking chance in hell

Kacchan’s face, when he’s not scrunching it up in a glare, or a frown, or grinning like a homicidal maniac, never ceases to just effortlessly slip past every last one of my defenses. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he just looks so freaking young. like the schoolboy he in fact is. far, far too young to be caught up in a war and facing his own imminent death

seeing him like this now, in his own mental landscape, where he’s free to be himself, and seeing how much of a difference it makes in his demeanor almost immediately, just hits me real fucking hard. he was just way too hard on himself. and he never let himself ask for the autograph because he never felt like he fully earned it, and now it’s too late (or so he thinks), and just. guh

Kacchan dying with that much regret in his heart is not fucking okay and I wanna fight a man about it even though it didn’t even actually wind up happening sob

I love, and hate, that every single other hero there actually did try to stop it. they just weren’t fast enough. god

PUTTING HIS PARENTS THERE WAS A DICK MOVE ON HORIKOSHI’S PART. OH HELLO BAKUFAM HOW ARE YOU, AND BY THE WAY, YOUR CHILD JUST DIED. WHAT A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN

[darushi-chan]

More HOTD reptiles AU yay!!! MUAJAJAJAJJAJA IM DONE!! Omg, I’m getting more and more used to the new brush, I think this one was even easier to color than the last one 😄 -Vhagar definitely wants to eat Arrax, dont worry she won’t, Im planing to do a little comic about it after this drawing 💕 -In this AU Aemond and Luke are roommates in college, the college dorms wouldn’t let Arrax stay with Luke (And of fucking course and even less Vhagar, lol), and as Aemond its also going to the same college and its living near, so why not? -Aemond did lose his eye in a Driftmark and Laena funeral related incident, but after all hell broke lose the family did decide to go to theraphy, thank god... so their family relationship is not as fucked up as it normally is xD. -So A and L are in OK therms with each other, and other secret feelings may be there too 👀.... -Yes Aemond went to theraphy and doesn’t want to take Luke’s eye, but my boi cannot not be obssesed and a little cucu in the head for Lucerys, his therapist its trying ok? They are kind of toxic, but not chernobyl style 😂 -So he really really really wants the roommates situation to work, so he lies and says Vhagar its friendly... a big fat lie, everyone in the neighborhood they live in its scared shitless of Vhagar, she eats the feral pigeons ffs, the poor things. She does listens to Aemond, so nobody’s dog or cat has died, but the poor feral animals beware.  -Luke has a youtube chanel where he talks about literature, his life and little Arrax, and because they’re both adorable they do have some fans, he has some really cute harnesses and costumes for little Arrax and makes videos every week. -Arrax and Vhagar will eventually be really good friends, after all, when she used to live with Laena she was friends with Caraxes the Tegu and “Laena’s little hatchlings” weird dragon companions (To Vhagar all other reptiles are some kind of dragon like her). Vhagar also gets how desesperate Aemond is to “correctly court” the other little human, and eating the tiny dragon wont help him, so she wont 😌

[blood-bound]

VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt 1: The Fool

Hello! Here is my first fic for Fangfest 2024 :)

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

My first fic is about a Tremere from Mark's game named JP. JP and Mark had the same Domitor, Julius, who was killed at the climax of their chronicle. This fic is set after.

The Educated Fool

Hunched over the box of records, JP flipped through, looking for artists he recognized. Some of the unfamiliar covers looked interesting, but he didn’t want to listen to new stuff yet. He wasn’t even sure if he liked the same stuff that he used to, and so figured it’d be best to start with that.  

There - The Who, an artist he used to listen to, though an album he had not - “It’s Hard”. He fished it out and read over the song titles on the back. Into his small stack of records it went, which already included Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath. Iron Maiden had been the only new artist he had found since his death (he was not allowed much free time, and even early in his unlife), while Black Sabbath was an old favorite. Satisfied with the 3 albums, JP went to checkout. One awkward interaction with the cashier later, and JP was free for the evening. It was a long walk home, and JP instinctually kept to the darker paths, avoiding streetlights and people. Since it was earlier in the night, kine were still awake. JP listened to the cars that went by, kept an ear out for people, and shuffled along, monitoring his speed - he didn’t want to walk too fast, too slow, or too awkwardly. He knew he no longer had visible gruesome injuries, but he still naturally avoided drawing attention to himself. 

It had only been a few weeks since his sire Julius had met his final death, after all. 

It was quiet times like this walk home where it was the hardest to not think about his bad memories and his regrets - lately, his largest one: he wasn’t the one to kill Julius. His nails dug into his hands whenever he thought of it - he was kneeling there, helpless, simply staring at the fight where Julius had met final death, instead of taking part in it. JP, now lost in thought, stared blankly ahead, not really taking in the walk home anymore, oblivious to those passing by. 

Mark had told him that he still contributed, that they couldn’t have done it without him, but he knew better. Hell, Mark himself barely even mattered - his contributions were just a small boon to Julius’s long-term rival, Gaius. It was Gaius who orchestrated everything, who did that weird-ass ritual to revive that wizard, the one who had landed the killing blow. 

JP shuddered thinking of the flames that individual had summoned. What had Mark called him, Lucius? Weird-ass name too. 

It didn’t matter now. Whatever his name was, he had left the city with Gaius. Julius’s body had rotted, leaving only bones, along with almost all of Gaius’s other allies who had died in the fight. 

Mark was lucky to get out with his unlife. JP wasn’t sure if he’d call himself lucky. Part of him had fully expected to meet final death before being free of Julius, and none of him had considered what he would do after. He was so jealous of Gaius - not only did he get his revenge, he seemed to have actually had a plan of what to do after. 

Kicking a can on the side of the road absentmindedly, he had to admit he was glad Mark had insisted he go out and get things, do something. It didn’t give him a purpose, but it did succeed in distracting him at least for a time.

~

There was one thing that never failed to distract JP. 

Hunger. He had started to welcome the gnaw of it, the way it clouded his thoughts and made it hard to think about anything else - it was not freedom, but it was a different prison. Thus, it had now been nights since JP had last fed - intentional procrastination, that he would keep to himself. He knew Mark wouldn’t like it. 

However, eventually, Mark noticed his wild eyes - “are you alright?” - and insisted he feed before he went feral. 

JP would have ignored anyone else, but Mark was different. He would have been rotting in some box, starving in torpor, without him - he didn’t want to make his unlife any harder, and he had to admit that he couldn’t hold off the beast forever. “I’ll go out” he had said, “but only because I still owe you.” 

Truly though, the beast wanted to feed. 

Mark scowled. “You don’t owe me anything. Uh, do you want me to come with you?” He looked very concerned, and started reaching for his keys before JP even replied. 

“No! Yeah, nah.” JP was already going for his shoes. “It’s a private affair, yanno, I know you get it. I know what I’m doing.” 

“Um. I guess, but are you sure that’s a good idea? How exactly uh, hungry are you?” 

JP’s face turned cold and he fixed Mark with a stone-faced stare. “I can handle it. Can I have the keys?” 

Mark opened his mouth, and then closed it into a thin line and held the key out to JP. “Be careful.”

“Yeah.” 

JP grabbed it, turned, and was out the door. 

~ 

JP was used to feeding on Mark’s territory, and thus found himself driving across the bridge to Belle Isle. It still felt strange driving - he had only driven himself a few times since gaining his freedom, and hadn’t for years before it. Mark had to remind him how, essentially reteach him, and he was still awkward. 

Mark was probably just as worried about the car as he was about JP. 

No. JP internally corrected himself. It’s about me. He doesn’t care about this car, he misses his old one. 

JP still wasn’t sure if he was glad that Mark cared about him, or if he wished he didn’t. Regardless, he was almost across the bridge, and had to decide where to go, but instead drove a bit aimlessly. He only caught himself after he had started driving towards the old lighthouse, where he had been staying before Julius’s death - when he had been under orders to assist Mark. 

No, he did not need to go back there again. 

Instead, he turned towards the beach.

JP found a spot to park and turned off the car. He unbuckled, but instead of getting out, he sat back and closed his eyes. Focusing closely with his supernatural hearing, he listened to the waves lapping on the shore. 

For a while, that’s all he heard - it was late, and the swimming area was closed. His beast clawed at him - but he could push it aside for a moment, like how he used to push away the constant pain he was forced to endure every night. It was not quite peaceful, but the sound reminded him of when he was alive - he used to surf. 

JP couldn’t remember the last time he had thought of that. 

Then the waves were interrupted by the sound of a rattling chain link fence, and the thump of someone landing - and then another, and another, along with some hushed voices. JP couldn’t quite make out the whispers, because his beast was focused on trying to listen for a heartbeat instead - there it was, fast ones, was it adrenaline? 

JP exited the car and made his way towards the sound of prey before even consciously deciding to do so. To his ears, his feet loudly crunched on gravel, but he knew he was far enough away that the sound of the wind and waves should cover his approach. 

Approaching the fence, he saw imprints on the other side, where the gravel turned to sand, and further down, some figures closer to the shore. It was a new moon, but the figures had turned on a flashlight, and JP was used to peering into darkness. One of them - no, two - were carrying beer cans. The third was taking off a jacket. Guess they’re fans of night swimming. 

One alone would be easy to prey upon. A pair would be harder. But three? That was trickier. 

JP waited until they had started wading into the water - and oh, they littered those cans too, leaving them on the sand. He walked further down following the fence, listening for anyone approaching. Hearing no one, and feeling safely that he was out of sight, he then he hefted himself over the fence just like they had

Kicking off his shoes as he ran for the water, a part of him almost expected to smell salt - but this wasn’t the Atlantic ocean in California, it was the Detroit River. 

How long had it been since he had last swam? 

He paused at the shoreline and glanced at the group. Taking no notice of him, they had gotten deeper in the water, and were spreading out. 

JP smiled. He took off his shirt, and without further delay, ran into the water, going chest deep. 

The temperature was noticeably cooler, but it was still warmer than his dead skin. Not needing to breathe, he only kept his eyes above the water, approaching the swimmers like an alligator. He could be faster, but creeping forward this way, he was almost impossible to see in the dark. The trio had kept their flashlight on the shore - a miniature lighthouse for them.

It would be so easy to make one of their deaths look like an accident. Headline: Drunkard drowns swimming at night. 

Mark wouldn’t like that though. 

Not committing to keeping them alive nor killing them yet, JP let himself and his beast focus on how he was going to sneak a bite in the first place. As he got close enough to hear their half-yelled conversation (“don’t you dare splash me!” “shut up” “don’t go any deeper!”), he fully sank under the waves. 

It was impossible to see in the pitch black water, and near impossible to hear - but JP managed. Keep yelling. He got close enough to the one who had been warned to not go any deeper (who had ignored it) where he could feel the water shift around his movements. 

Keep it quick, JP. He had resolved to at least attempt to keep this one alive - and if he was to do so, he couldn’t feed for long without his companions noticing something odd. 

JP swam behind his prey and went for his neck, barely exiting the water. He tilted the man’s head back so that his nose and mouth were facing the sky as JP tread water. Even with this, he gasped and coughed seawater, initially spasming in panic, but as JP’s fangs sunk into him he relaxed. 

Water mixed with blood in JP’s mouth, but he was hungry, dammit, and forced down the initial watered down sip. The blood had an odd tang to it, not in a bad way, and JP could also quickly tell that this man was very, very drunk. Idiot; no respect for the water. 

He’ll get himself killed anyway. Drink him all. Also, being drunk would be nice, wouldn’t it? 

JP lost himself for a moment in the taste of him. Fire and water. Risk and carelessness, youthful exuberance, life, found in the taste of blood. 

Yelling brought him back to reality. “Elias, where’d you go?” “I told you to not fucking go deeper!” Some splashing sounded, heading towards him. 

Ugh. 

With great reluctance and force of will, JP licked the wound closed - tasting more water - and sunk under the waves. 

Feed from the others. It’s not too late to kill him. 

JP kicked off the bottom of the river, going deeper instead. 

He listened to the sound of water, letting the relieved laughter and yells of the group of friends fade into the background. With his beast at least somewhat sated, it almost felt good to push against the water, heading to nowhere. The water swished between his hands, fingers, toes. He thought about what creatures may live in this river, how the ecology differed from the sea, how the freshwater even sounded and felt different from saltwater. 

Perhaps he had missed swimming after all.

[wachtelspinat]

Heya~

I often find it very difficult to find the right words, so I apologize in advance if any of what I have to say sounds dry or wrong, but I write it from the heart, I promise🧡

I know how you feel now and how much you get lost when that realization comes along. I learn art all my life, but I don’t succeed anywhere. No matter how long I try to do it, I still keep thinking “well I’m not good enough”. To be honest it scares the shit out of me every day, because if I’ll give up here… well there’s nothing I can do for life than. When I was in school, I was desperately clung to every fandom I had as my last hope to get rid of bad thoughts and I found those two silly characters that stole my heart immediately so of course it’s weird to say but since then Overwatch has become my “home”. It was not the perfect game but it was fun until Ow2 was released. Even if my love for OW is died, I understood that Junkrat and Roadhog took a much more bigger part in my live that I could ever imagine. I thought it was stupid, like come on that’s just a characters from the old and dead game but it turns out they’re not just characters, but in a way, my family or friends that helped me go through a lot of dark times, so it’s okey to love them deeply even if they are not real~

I always wondered, why do I make art? Is it what I really like and enjoy? Is it cost all the struggles and tears? But I found you and I fall in love with your arts immediately. I could have a really bad day in university but then I remember how I just go to your page to rewatch, for only gods knows how many times, your works. I love everything about them, how you can build a perfect shape with just one line, how many expressions and ideas your works have. Your knowledge of the anatomy is just… freaking olympic🤌🏻✨ you gave me the second breath in my path of an artist because looking at your works I was wondering if I ever be able to achieve such a high level and here I’m speaking not only about arts with Junkrat and Roadhog, I speak about every single one that I could find🧡 and I understood that art in general have much much more power in it that anyone thinks. It gives hope, inspiration, safety, emotions and so on~ even without knowing it, you can make another person’s life a little better.

All I wanted to say is - you are a fantastic person, highly talented and hard working. I’m sure everyone who follows your work will support every of your decision. I just wanted to say a big thank you from myself personally for everything you do🧡

hey ! i'm really sorry that it took me so long to respond, last week was just hell on earth. the sheer amount of words you put into this hit me right in the heart, and what you said made me tear up even more.

having a really hard time here to form my words, not only because my brain feels so fried, but because your ask is so sincere and i don't think i can possibly thank you enough. it's so weird, there is this constant battle in my head that everything is futile and trivial and i'm having a hard time seeing some kind of point behind my actions (not only art related). on the other hand, i know that WE give meaning to something. that it's the small things that tends to move mountains. i don't know if i'm making any sense here. point is. by telling me that - in my opinion - my irrelevant art has given you sth, if it's just a smile, new energy to try sth yourself, inspiration... you are shaking my world. and i'm grateful for that in a way i cannot describe.

and seriously, i don't know why we make art. because as you mentioned yourself it is always connected with doubts and despair. before i entered graphic design school back when i was super young i thought drawing was me. the one integral part that made me so ~special~. just to learn that a bunch of people draw, all around the world, and they often draw even better than i could ever achieve! in the last months of being in university i relied a lot on defining myself through my art again. because it immensely helped with my self-concept when everything around me just felt like i wasn't good enough. i'm kind of re-learning again that doing art is not the one thing that defines me. because i tend to heavily lean into that. it is after all the one thing i actually like about myself.

so yeah, thank you so much for reaching out. i love your art and the love you put into it, so i'm hoping that - despite the struggles we all share while being creative - you continue to draw, as so will i <3

(and junkrat and roadhog, man... yeah they're not just characters, they stopped being just characters from a game a long time ago for me. i know i'm a broken record at this point BUT their codependency and independency, the balance between grit and gross and sweet and off-kilter, sweat, tears, blood and some ice-cream on the side, begrudging and thankful - it seems stupid to me too because i know most people just see these comic relief mad max rip-offs but every time i think about their dynamics and some of the stories i've read in fan works it grips my heart and i think "holy shit i love them so. much." - i'm still not done drawing them by a long shot i think, it just feels like i've reached a dead end of some kind? because with little time at hand and even less energy left i struggle to form my thoughts into drawings. but i'm working on that. i'm working on doing some kind of tribute, like a zine with my art from 2016 up to today and some more stuff i've yet to draw (had this idea since 2022 and i've just recently learned SO MUCH about zine making and printing and i finally started putting the first files together). because that feels right, like a proper "here look at this i hope this explains why i love them so much")

[dirtytransmasc]

What is Quaritch reaction when he finds out the Sully's aka Jake and Neytiri both neglected and emotionally abused spider and how under their care almost die because they didn't notice until it was almost to late I feel his hate for Jake would increase because he expects this from Neytiri but not from Jake who suppose to be morally better than him ( like how is a clone of a colonizer a better father to the kid you knew for 16 years)

And also about the scientist since they didn't help ( looking at you norm and max (

Also I feel deep down Quaritch would appreciate tonowari because he knows he isn't father material and even though Ronal scares the hell out of him he appreciates her too because he understands spider needs a mother

anger doesn't begin to describe how he felt about jake, and anger wasn't the only thing he felt, he was sad, he was gutted, he couldn't even put a name on some of the things he was feeling. he was devastated by the very thought of how spider felt growing up. sure he may not have been a good dad, but he wouldn't have let spider suffer like that, not in this na'vi life; in all honesty he wholeheartedly believes that dying was the best thing he ever did for that kid. so now he's dealing with this massive uptick in paternal drive (I think family is so important to the na'vi, that its ingrained in their biological psychology. so Quaritch being na'vi now, has to deal with all those new feelings) has to process the fact that his enemy, his 'moral superior' has mistreated his boy to the point he almost lost him. add on the fact it wasn't even the sully's (at least within in my au) that noticed how sick spider was, nor were the ones to take care of him while he recovered (cause that was mostly ao'nung).

he has some sympathy for neytiri, its clear she never wanted spider, that he was supposed to be jakes responsibility, that if he was her son, it never would have happened. he can't blame her for not being able to care for a human boy, his spawn, he could never expect that of her, or any na'vi for that matter. but he draws the line at straight-up neglect and abuse of his son, at letting him get so sick he almost died, after that, it's pretty fucking personal.

he's pissed at all the 'superior' scientists that got to stay, because if they're so much better then everyone they sent back, why couldn't they take care of his child. why did they subject him to such a life.

the one thing he has to be grateful for is tonowari and his family. he respects the shit out of them, they took spider in, even after everything, even though he was practically a stranger. they took him in and they loved him, they cared for him. ronal and tonowari were protective and went above and beyond to care for their new son. tsireya and ao'nung, though he didn't know much about them, were good kids that did everything to protect their little brother. they had built the kid up from where he lay broken on the ground and they loved every part of him, his imperfections, his shortcomings, his human nature and lineage. it didn't matter to them, they loved spider and accepted him as theirs, just as he was.

they were the family his boy deserved, and he knows he will never be better for spider, no matter how much he changes, how far he goes to redeem himself, he will never be a better father than someone like tonowari, a stern and strict but helplessly kind man. he knows he could never find spider a better mother than ronal, a woman willing to kill and die for her son while also being soft and supportive of him. knows spider has come to need his siblings, the support and protection they offer, to survive. he knows he could never do better by his son, and that's ok.