#﹠✟﹔might even be helping mom and dad

[multipleoccupancy]

Theo just sobbed as he tried to work out what to do, he really didn't want to leave Mauve alone in the ward, it had been hell for him for so many different and terrible reasons. He was supposed to be getting out potentially that day. He heaved in some panicked breaths through his tears, they were so many they were dropping off of his jaw as if he were a broken tap.

He gave her his hands as she took them though, barely able to see her through the blur of tears. He was quite the mess as she spoke to him and he felt horrible guilt in his stomach at the thought of leaving her behind, for the very real worry of forgetting all about her. How it is she might have been sat waiting for him to come and free her but by tomorrow he'd have forgotten her name and by the end of the week would he even remember her face or that she had been with him at all? Did she understand that?

"I'll come back. I promise you. This whole place, I'll close it down. They'll never be allowed to do this again to anyone." He drew in a shaky breath and finally plucked up the courage to look at her properly, trying to memorise her face as best he could in the hopes that something would stick, that some part of his mind on the medication would be able to recall her features. "But I will get my Mom and Dad to look into everything, I'll find a way." He paused and then seemed to come up with an idea, "Write your address on the back of your drawing to me, I can get to your parents, I can tell them and then they can try and get you out of here too, to come and pick you up or anything. Please Mauve, let me help you."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet stood up with Theo, but she didn't what to do, she didn't know how to calm him down as he pulled at his hair. So, she just stood there, awkwardly hovering next to him. With tears in her eyes. "I know," she said, "but I don't want you to be stuck here because of me. You have to get out, Theo."

She shook her head. "I can't sneak out with you, I'd be a fugitive for the rest of my life." Had she made a mistake, telling him the truth? Maybe she should have lied better! "Maybe Agent Davidson will give me a deal, eventually," she attempted to lie, almost trying to repair broken porcelain, knowing full well that the pieces would not go together, "maybe he just needed time to think about it."

Finally, she gently took his hands, trying to move them away from his hair. "I think that's a mighty fine idea, Theo. You'll come back, and you can even close this place down for good. You'll be an FBI agent, remember? You'll be able to prove how terrible the ward is, and you can even send 'em all to jail for what they've done. But you can't do that if you stay here, so you have to go."

[alastor-simp]

Demonic Savior - Demon Alastor x Human Female Reader

❥Summary- Who knew that the deer you helped was actually a demon?

❥Tags: Demon Alastor, Human Reader, Caution: Not For Minors, Trigger Warning, Abuse, Child Abuse, Abusive Parents, Deer Form Alastor, Curse Words, Angst + Comfort

❥Notes: Haven't wrote a story like this so I wanted to give it a try. I understand this story might be a bit traumatic for readers who went through something similar, so please skip it this story bothers you. This is 3K words, lets go

❥Credit: Divider from @cafekitsune

❥Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! NOT FOR MINORS!!!!!!!!!

✪In The Forest✪

"Pant....pant....pant." Holding a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm down after running away from your so-called home. It was never home to you, more like hell, as you had to suffer through everything your parents inflicted on you. Your mom would never feed you, locking you in your room, and whenever you had the chance to leave your prison, your drunk dad would beat you mercilessly, shouting swears at you. It was just plain luck that the time you ran away from your father, the door was left unlocked, letting you escape out into the woods, "GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BRAT!!!" screeched from inside the house, as you sped away as fast as you could, limping slightly from the beatings. You took a rest behind a large tree, trying to catch your breath and also soothe your aching body as the more you tried to run, the worse the pain got. There was no sound of footsteps anywhere, letting you know that you were safe for now, but you knew that your father was searching for you, ready to beat you again for disobeying him. Wincing, you slowly got up from the ground, moving slowly to avoid stepping on any branches that would alert anyone nearby.

A few minutes went by and you slowly came across a small river. Oh finally, some fresh water. Getting on your knees, your hands scooped some water, bringing it to your mouth to drink. The river was able to reflect back at you, allowing you to see yourself. One of your eyes was swollen from being punched, cheeks sunken from being starved and your lip was bleeding. It was a surprised that your face still remained the same, even after all the beatings that were inflicted on you. "Rustle..Rustle." A soft sound was heard from a large bush, causing you to jump up in fright. You were waiting for the figure of your father, to come out, but nothing appeared. The sounds continued, earning your curiosity.

Moving closer to the sound, you peeked behind a bush and let out a gasp. A large deer appeared in front of you, its fur a dark crimson red and its antlers black as coal. It was on the ground, hoof caught in a bear trap. It noticed your presence, dark red eyes staring back at you, gazing into your soul. Moving slowly as not to startle it, you sat next to the deer, letting it know you were not a threat. Drawing your eyes to the trapped leg, you placed your hands on the jaws, "I'm gonna try to open this okay?" Using the strength you could muster, the jaws of the trap slowly inched open bit by bit, allowing the deer to pull it out. Once you saw that the deer had freed its foot, you push the trap slowly together, so it wouldn't snap on your hand, setting it on the ground once you had closed it. The deer's foot was bleeding heavily, having been punctured by the sharpness of the trap.

Moving away from the deer, you went back to the river and picked up some water with your hands, carrying it over back to the deer. The water helped removed some of the blood that was on the leg and would help reduce the chance of infection a bit. Grabbing your shirt, you ripped a piece of cloth off, using it as bandage for the cut, to prevent it from bleeding more. Having tied it on, you look at your work, making sure it was all set before setting the foot down. Looking back at the deer, you gave it a smile, "There you go, that should help with the bleeding. Just hope you are able to walk." The deer had remained surprisingly calm when you were helping it, which was quite strange, but you were just glad it didn't run away or else that wound would have gotten infected. The crimson deer, moved its legs, standing up to his full height, apparently able to move on the wounded hoof. It moved slowly, its head coming closer to yours, giving your face a sniff. Its tongue had come out and licked your lip, cleaning the blood that was dripping from it. "Haha I'll take that as a thank you." Giggling at the sensation, your hand raised and rubbed the deer's cheek, which made its ears twitch. "Never seen a red deer before. Quite beautiful."

The moment was ruined when you heard a loud yell, "Y/N!!! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL KILL YOU!!!" Jumping at the scream, you realized your dad was close. Looking back at the deer, you motioned your hand for it to leave, not wanting your dad to catch it and possibly kill it, "Go now!! Run!" The deer didn't think twice and bolted away, disappearing into the bushes. Hearing more rustling from behind you, you turned seeing your father, face red from anger and the alcohol, as he was holding a beer bottle in his hand. "FOUND YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" He rushed towards you, the end of the bottle smashing against your head, causing it to break. "AHH!!", Grasping your head, there was a wet sensation appearing on your hand, making you pull back, seeing blood. A hand had grabbed your hair, body being lifted a bit off the ground, as you saw the hatred filled eyes of your father glaring down at you "YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME?!? I'LL BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU, SO YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE AGAIN!!" He pulled, dragging your body back to the house, your hell. "N-No! Let go!!" Your cries were left unheard, as the rough grip form your fathers hand on your hair continued to yank, dragging you, body scraping against the grassy surface. As you were being pulled away, a pair of glowing eyes appeared from far out of the forest, before they vanished.

✪Next Day✪

Groaning in pain, your hands were motioning left and right in soapy liquid, washing the dishes. This was the continuation of your punishment for trying to escape. Your mom caught wind of your escape attempt and joined in on the beating with your father. When you woke up, body still on the cold floor, your mother came from the kitchen, pointing her finger and yelling at you to do the dishes, since it's your duty to do all the chores and not hers. The tormentors that were your parents, were lazying about on the couch, watching TV as you continued to watch the dishes. It hurt....it hurt so much you could barely stand. Tears were running down your face, drops landing into the soapy water. Using one of your soap covered hands, you tried to wipe the tears from your face, however doing that caused the glass in your other hand to drop to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound alerted both of your parents, the both of them darting off the couch and into the kitchen, faces fueled with anger and malice. "YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! The roaring voice from your dad made you yelp in fear, raising your hands up for some sort of protection. "I-I dropped a glass! I-I'm sorry!" You prayed for mercy, hoping that they would only yell and degrade you. "You're sorry?" The cold tone from your mom, made you shiver, tears still running down your cheeks. "You don't look very sorry. Honey, I believe its time for some proper punishment." The evil smile on her face, made your stomach drop. No..No..NO..NO!!!

Your legs sprung to life, darting from the kitchen, trying to reach the hallway that led to your room. Your dad was quicker, his fist connecting with your face, causing you to fall to the floor, groaning from the pain. Your hands grabbed at your bruised cheek, crying loudly. Your dad stood above you, veins bursting from his face. His body got on top of yours, hands grasping your throat, squeezing. The air you were breathing was caught off, making you panic. You tried to push the hands from your neck, but his grip wouldn't budge, squeezing much tighter at your struggling. Your mouth couldn't utter a sound, faint gasping trying to get some air. Why? Why was this happening to you? Why must the two of these individuals, not even parents, monsters, must torment you so? Black spots popped in your vision, growing more and more weak, as the pressure on your throat continued. "Someone.....anyone.....please....h-help..me", your mind screamed, vision growing more and more hazy.

"Knock..knock..knock" Loud knocking came from the front door. Your dad locked eyes with it in confusion, turning his head to your mom, wondering who the hell it was. His hands had loosen slightly, allowing some air to enter through your mouth, but just barely. The knocking presumed, which got on your mom's nerve as you heard her curse, walking past the both of you to answer it. The ringing in your ears was making it impossible to hear what was going, but you heard the sound of the door slamming shut, and the sounds of footsteps approaching, your moms probably. A gush of wind was felt from behind, and through the ringing in your ears, you heard a voice, "I…….in..yo….daughter," it was broken, but it sounded like static?

✪Alastors POV✪

The door to this humble estate opened, revealing a small petite woman on the other side, wearing a scowl on her face. "Greetings, madam. Apologies for the sudden intrusion, but I acquire your daughter. Is the little darling here by chance?" Bowing a bit, I locked eyes with the miss, who seemed displeased at my arrival. "We aren't interested in what your trying to sell buddy. Take a hike-SLAM!" The door slammed in my face, hmph how rude. Molding into the shadows, my body manifested into the house, appearing in front of the supposed father-figure and the person who I was seeking, "I decided to let myself in, as I did say, I acquire your daughter." The poor darling was laying on the ground, face horribly bruised and neck laced with finger marks. Smile straining at the sight, my eyes locked onto the male on top of her. He soon stood up, walking towards me, attempting to be intimidating. How foolish.

"HEY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE COMING INTO OUR HOUSE LIKE THAT?! BEAT IT ASSHOLE!!" The man screamed, whiffs of alcohol emanating from his breath. The mother had came around me, crossing her arms as she stood next to her husband, eyes cold, "I don't know how you got in here, but I prefer you leave now before I call the police." As if a measly man dressed in a suit with a gun and badge could harm me. Summoning my staff, I gave it a twirl, before placing it down on the ground. "Now now, all I want is your daughter, who is laying on the floor, next to you." The both of them, looked at each other before returning back to me with smirks. "You want this pathetic waste of space right here?" The man raised his leg, striking the lady with a kick, sending her flying, body hitting the side wall. Her body remained limp, but she was awake enough to let out a groan of pain, grip on my staff tightening. “I implore you not to do that again."

The so-called man wore a smirk, raising his foot again to strike, "Whatcha gonna do about-" He never finished his sentence as the shadows I called stopped his kick, before lifting him up in the air and throwing him down the hall like a ragdoll. "AHHHHHH!" He was able to let out one good scream before his head hit the wall, knocking him out. "I believe I recalled saying,nøŧ ŧø đø ŧħȺŧ ȺǥȺɨn." The air grew heavy, as the dark shadows flooded the walls and floors, glaring at both the mother and father. My antlers grew to massive lengths, and slits changing into radio dials, revealing my true demon form. The mother's face was shocked, collapsing onto the ground with tears in her eyes, "M-monster!" She cried out, as her body shivered with fear. "ĦȺĦȺ-ĦØØ, Mønsŧɇɍ? Ɏøᵾ Ⱥɍɇ sȺđłɏ mɨsŧȺꝁɇn, mɨss. Ɨ Ⱥm Ⱥ đɇmøn, Ŧħɇ ɌȺđɨø Đɇmøn." Bending down, I leaned closer, enjoying the fearful expression coming from the mother. It didn't take long before her eyes rolled back and she fainted from the fear, "Ħmm, ħøw đᵾłł. UsᵾȺłłɏ ŧħɇɏ sȼɍɇȺm fɨɍsŧ ƀɇføɍɇ ᵽȺssɨnǥ øᵾŧ." Returning my attention back to the one I seek, her body floated in the air with my powers, as she floated into my arms, carrying her bridal style. She weighed almost nothing, the poor thing, body lacking any source of fullness, bony from head to toe. She had awoken a bit, moving her head softly to look at me, pupils glazed, "H-h-help." The voice she let out was so soft, before her head collapsed, landing against my chest. Leaning closer, I nuzzled against her head softly, "Not to worry, my dear, I will offer my assistance." My eyes locked on to the two bodies on the ground, smile growing.

✪Your POV✪

"Mmmmm...ughhhhh." Letting out a groan, you opened your eyes slightly, vision blurry. Your neck felt very sore, moving your hand up slowly to rub at it. Something was wrapped around your body, making it hard for you to move. Vision clearing a bit, your eyes gazed up to see trees hovering above you, fireflies flying around. Huh? You blinked again, feeling like it was your imagination. The more you blinked, you realized this was real. Moving slowly with a groan, your head looked down to see that you were on a bed, wrapped in a soft blanket. It took you a minute to realize this wasn't your bed, the sheets looked expensive and the covers were crimson red. Your eyes darted out to ponder where you were. Half of the room was a forest, reminding you of the one near your house, but on the other half, it was attached to a regular room, walls decorated with stag heads, glowing fireplace with green flames, a tall bookcase and a desk where a big cathedral radio was. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming." Pinching your arm, you waited for this all to disappear, expecting the area around you to transform into your real bedroom. Nothing changed once you did that, realizing that this was reality, and you were in a two dimensional room, having no idea where in the hell you were.

The door to the room bursted open, and in came a man dressed to the nines in a red suit, holding a microphone stand. Bright crimson eyes locked onto yours, and his smile was stretched to the max on his face, "Ahh awake now, are we?". He took long strides to the bed you laid on, smiling down at you, as you continued to observe him. He was tall, which made him a bit intimidating, but your eyes scanned him all over trying to figure out who and what he was. "Who-what?" It felt almost impossible to talk, as you were still trying to piece together what was going on. The person in front of you, noticed your confusion, letting out a chuckle that was mixed with static. "Haha, I suspected you must be terribly dumbstruck about your current situation. First things first, I will introduce myself. My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you again." He bowed, while he gripped one of your hands, placing a soft kiss on it, making you jump a bit. "Ummm...nice to meet you. Do you mind telling me where I am?" You noticed the little puffs of hair on his head move after you said that, wait are those ears? "Ah yes, We are currently in the fine establishment of the Hazbin Hotel, run by the Princess of Hell herself. The room we are in right now is my own private quarters." He leaned back to his full height, extending his hands out like he was giving a performance for a big show.

Did he just say Hell? How on god's green earth could you be in hell? Placing your hands on your neck, you rubbed at the sore sensation, as your memory flickered, trying to recall what happened. "Am I dead?" The man in front of you, leaned his head back, letting out a loud chortle, "HA! No! You are not dead, my dear. Just made a simple portal between the living world and Hell to bring you here." Okayyyyyyyyy, that answered your question a bit, but it was still mind-baffling that you were here, in Hell. Feeling a bit awkward that you didn't introduce yourself, you smiled softly a bit at him, "Sorry I'm Y/N. Nice to meet y......wait, you said again, have the both of us met before?" There was no way you have met him before, as you would remember a well-dressed deer man. The microphone stand he was holding disappeared, moving slowly to take a seat on the bed where you laid, lips turning into a tender smile, "Oh my, don't tell me you have forgotten? You treated the horrible wound that was afflicted on my leg by that horrible trap. I also must thank you for the compliment, not many have referred to me as beautiful before."

All the memories started flooding back, remembering the deer you had saved and treated, until your father dragged you away. "You were that deer?" Alastor's ears twitched in amusement, chuckling softly, "Correct, my dear. It is hard to come across good venison in hell, so I often times travel to the human world to hunt. My deer form draws less eyes towards me then this one," He announced, gesturing to himself, as he was explaining. "Is your wound okay?" You asked, concerned eyes gazing down to his foot. His eyes widen for a bit, not expecting you to ask him that, seeing as how stunned you before, you still had the courtesy to ask about his well-being, "It's perfectly alright now my deer, no need to stress. Your handiwork helped control a lot of the bleeding." His hand waved in the air, as the static crackled in his voice.

The pain on your neck was bothering you more, placing both hands on it to alleviate some of the pain. Flashbacks of your father began to play in your mind, recalling the hateful eyes from both him and your mother as he continued to strangle you to death. Sobbing, the tears began to flood your cheeks, alerting the demon next to you. "Oh no! There is no need to cry, my dear. You are safe from them now, they will never hurt you again. I made sure of it," His voice was soft, hands placing themselves on your cheeks, wiping away at the tears. His hands were warm, making you lean a bit into the touch. He made sure of it? What did he mean by that. Alastor was able decipher the question you wanted to ask him, just by reading your face, "I am known as the Radio Demon, most powerful overlord in all of hell. Those who have wrong me or provoked my rage will have their screams broadcasted all throughout hell. I slaughtered your parents in the living world, and found them in hell as sinners, granting them a second death by my hands. Their pitiful screams for mercy were just broadcasted a little while ago, thank Satan, you were still asleep." He said all of this like it was the most causal thing in the world, while your mouth opened wide like a fish.

"YOU KILLED THEM!?!" Finding the energy to move, you jumped out of the bed, standing a good feet away from the bed. Alastor tilted his head, confused at your reaction, "Well yes, Was that not what you wanted? To be saved?" He got you there, as you recalled wanting what was happening to you to stop, but not resulting in the death of your parents. "They were horrible people, but I didn't them to die. I just.....I wanted to leave and never go back, away from them forever." You wanted to roll into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling super overwhelmed over everything.

✪Alastors POV✪

Oh dear, this is only stressing out the poor darling more. My past sins have driven me numb to any form of guilt, but I have forgotten it's not the same for others. Removing myself from the bed, I stood in front of the little human, hooking their chin softly to gaze up at me. "If you feel responsible for what has happened to them, don't. They were going to kill you either way, even if you had left, they would have found a way to find you. They are the cause of their own undoing, not you." The tears still remained in her eyes, but she seemed slightly calmer now. "Why? Why did you save me?" She whimpered out, making my heart ache a bit. Chuckling to myself, my hands squished her cheeks, she was simply adorable. "Simply returning the favor, my dear. You helped me and I returned it in kind." Her eyes continued to gaze into mine, before they dropped to the ground. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a hug.

The sudden act made me stiffen, being unfamiliar with acts like this. "Thank you....for saving me." The muffled voice against my chest made me relax, returning the hug back, with one hand on her waist, and the other petting her soft hair. I allowed this to go on for a few more minutes before pulling back, "Ahem, I believe its time to head to the lobby. I'm sure the residents will be delighted in meeting you." The little darling in front of me tilted her head, appearing confused, "Residents?" Her cute acts made me shake with laughter, as I poke her nose softly, "Yes! Residents! We are in a hotel after-all." With a wave of my hand, my microphone appeared, allowing me to twirl it with my fingers, before setting it down, I extended my arm out, waiting for her to take a hold, "Come along, darling! Best not to keep them waiting!" There was a bit of hesitation that flashed on her face for a second before it was replaced with a kind soft smile, as her arm hooked around mine. "Lovely! Now! Let us head on down!" The both of us strode over to the door, leaving my humble quarters, as we headed to lobby, where dear Charlie and the others resided, ready for them to meet our new addition to the hotel.

-END-

Sinners:

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[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it���s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tim is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Tim nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Ryan?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Tim won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Ryan isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Tim perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Tim says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Tim,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Tim walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[cringefailvox]

staticbelle au, because this bsky art gave me brainworms. seven years pre-canon, charlie's mom and the radio demon have both disappeared, though it's too early to tell whether either of them is truly gone yet, vaggie hasn't fallen yet, and charlie is completely on her own. she's estranged from her dad, she has barely an inkling of a plan for how to save sinners, and her overwhelming compassion has nowhere to go—she wants to help people, but she doesn't know how. then she notices there's a new overlord syndicate on the rise, surging to fill the spaces the radio demon has left behind, and every window advertisement or tv commercial she sees insists that the vees want nothing more than to lend a helping hand to the downtrodden, if you would only trust them.

she's not stupid. she knows not to immediately take other demons at their word, especially not overlords, but the vees are swiftly building something she hasn't been able to accrue in two centuries: influence. sinners are listening when they talk, people are tuning into their shows and flocking to the entertainment district because it's safer than many other places in the pentagram, and charlie thinks this might be exactly what she needs. if she can convince the vees to platform her, if they're half as generous as they seem, she might have a real shot at changing people's afterlives for the better. and if they don't want to help her, then... she'll just have to be really, really convincing! no biggee!

enter vox, who cannot believe his luck. the kittens and rainbows, dumb blonde princess of hell waltzes right through his front door and offers him the opportunity of a lifetime to get into good graces with the royal family. he's greedy with alastor's absence and overeager to get his foot in the door on an even playing field with the other overlords, since bringing velvette onboard has catapulted the three of them into the mainstream and he's not about to lose his momentum now. he'll entertain her delusions, maybe give her her own talkshow segment late at night when no one who matters will be watching, forge a link between the morningstar name and the new identity he's staking out for himself in the wake of alastor's disappearance. after all, the worst that can happen is she embarrasses herself under his name and he has to swoop in and oh-so-benevolently rescue her, and it's not like val doesn't already do that every other week. plus, ratings are ratings.

so he keeps his word. he gives her a platform, albeit a limited one; he enthusiastically encourages her ideas for rehabilitating hell and privately thinks it's hysterically idiotic; he lets her deliver her pitches in musical form live on air and isn't charmed, not even a little bit. he expects that eventually she'll get discouraged and give up, and when that happens, he's going to step in with a warm smile and gently suggest that they try something a little different, a little more vox's speed, and if he can get her hand shaking his in the process then that's only a magnificent bonus.

except. charlie refuses to quit. she's not an employee, so she comes and goes as she pleases from the tower and suddenly vox's days are being interrupted by a sheepishly excitable princess who has a new script for him to look over or a tune she wants a second opinion on and of course vox is accommodating every time, of course he's supportive, even when he's so fucking irritated he plasters on an indulgent grin and invites her in, because he's made an art form out of swallowing his real feelings for the sake of appeasing the public or valentino or alastor and this is not a relationship he can afford to jeopardize with something as trivial as hurting her feelings.

so he indulges her. he picks up one of her glitter pens and reaches over to scribble something on her illustration of all the overlords holding hands and it's all downhill from there. before he can think to pump the brakes, he's being looped into genuinely investigating what qualifies as sin and redemption for damned souls, he's having his architects draft plans for an extravagant rehabilitation hotel that makes her cry when he idly mentions it, he's sighing and enduring the way all his vulgar mugs have mysteriously been rewritten with positive messages instead (fuck hug alastor!), he's letting her lean over the rim of his pools and gasp with sheer delight over his sharks because that doesn't give him the warm and fuzzies, not at all—and he's even somewhat patiently heeding her constructive criticism about all the mind control and abusive work environments and predatory business practices that the vees engage in. like, obviously they're not going to stop, but he does talk to val and vel about toning it down a bit, at least while charlie is around. gotta keep little miss sunshine happy, right? (no one tell him that he really doesn't need to be doing all this, he won't listen.)

meanwhile, charlie has gone full starry-eyed dreamer with vox's backing. for the first time, someone is genuinely supporting her, even if that person is an evil capitalist who sometimes feeds his employees to his sharks and is definitely hypnotizing people with his ads but, uhh. everyone has flaws!! and doesn't it kind of balance out, if he's helping her figure out how to redeem people, ensuring her ideas have real power and structure behind them, and even limiting some of the fucked up shit his partners do for her sake? maybe he's not doing it for the right reasons, but he IS doing good, and shouldn't that matter? charlie absolutely thinks it does. she didn't really intend for vox to be her first case study for proving that every sinner has the capacity to be better when given the opportunity, but like hell is she NOT going to milk this for all it's worth for as long as it takes for vox to realize that he's committed to the bit too hard and actually. Likes her. and wants her to succeed. and feels his mood lift when she's in the room. and may or may not be addicted to making her happy. g-d fucking dammit

all this to say that one day, when he presents her with the operational plans for the grand opening of the happy hotel, and she exclaims "oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank you" and leans up on her toes to kiss the corner of his screen before tackling him into a hug, and his screen explodes with pink pixelated hearts—well, he's well and truly fucked himself. whoops! the princess of hell is your girlfriend now. yeah, you've lost the plot. mazel tov

[gothamite-rambler]

Rose helping out Jason

Rose sat on the couch in her duplex apartment, her mouth agape in disbelief as she listened to the story of how Jason had died and then been revived. She had always been curious about the details but was hesitant to ask, worried she might be stepping on a landmine. Their relationship was still new, and she wanted to ensure Jason didn’t feel pressured to share anything he wasn’t ready to discuss.

Yet, as he recounted everything he remembered, she could see that, despite the pain of the experience, he didn’t resent reliving it. He seemed to find a certain catharsis in sharing his story, and she felt honored that he chose to open up to her.

Rose (stunned): That's... How you died?

Jason nodded then sighed.

Jason: The craziest part was stepping out of the Lazarus Pit covered in—wait, why do you look mad?

Rose (fixating on one detail): That bitch egg donor sold you out to the Joker to save her own skin?!

Jason (laughing dryly): Yeah, pretty much. She’s not around anymore. She wasn’t exactly the best mom to the bitter end. Honestly, it was stupid of me to even go see her that night.

Rose frowned softly, covering her mouth in disbelief.

Rose (reassuringly): Jace, it’s not your fault you were deceived by someone so terrible. I’m sorry for insulting her, but that infuriates me��along with the fact of your death itself. The whole situation makes me so mad. And my dad? He’s just as bad. Oh my God.

Jason chuckled, rubbing his forehead.

Jason: You’re fine, trust me. It’s crazy to think about dying, but I’ve managed to adjust to this new life pretty well.

Rose (smiling): You really have.

She exhaled, gently rubbing the top of Jason’s hand. He smiled in response.

Rose (holding back her anger): But the Joker is still… alive and walking? Not okay with that.

Jason: That’s a whole different mess. I don’t want to think about him right now; sorry for unloading so much on you.

Rose (smiling softly): It’s fine, I asked. I showed you my missing eye, and in return, you gave me a detailed account of your death. Just so you know, I could take care of him for you since Batman won’t.

Jason chuckled, quickly pressing a kiss to Rose's cheek.

Jason: Nah, his misery is enough for me.

Rose (with a mischievous glint in her eyes): His misery is enough? I like the way you think.

She leaned in closer, kissing him passionately as she pushed him down onto the couch.

Jason (sly smile): That turned you on?

Rose (whispering near his ear): Are you turned on?

Jason (blushing): I definitely am now.

Rose smiled, deepening the kiss as she felt the chemistry between them simmer. With a carefree motion, she tossed aside his shirt and kissed him again, all while her mind began weaving a plot for revenge against the Joker.

---Later that night---

Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke, sat in his prison cell, engrossed in Shawshank Redemption.

Slade (towards the end of the book): Huh, he dug a hole in the wall? Amateur.

He chuckled softly, continuing to read until his phone rang just moments later. Without bothering to check the caller ID, he answered.

Slade: Go for Deathstroke.

Rose (whispering): Death—Sla—Da—Nope… Father, yeah, that works. Father, I have a request that you definitely won’t turn down.

Slade's interest piqued as he continued to read.

Slade: I’m listening.

Rose: The Joker’s in Arkham with you. I want you to beat him to a bloody pulp. He probably won’t die easily, but don’t kill him. Go all out. I’ll bring you muffins when I visit next week.

Slade snapped the book shut, excitement coursing through him as he stood up.

Slade (pumped up): I’d do that regardless of an award! Regardless! You’re not joking about him not dying, either. I saw someone push him off the railing near the stairs and that clown jumped to his feet while laughing. I will smash his face to a pulp regardless! Guard! Bring me my brass knuckles! Code J!

Rose (sighing happily): Thank you.

Slade: No problem, Jeri—Which child are you?

Rose paused, remembering who her father was and that this was just typical of him, even during her time as his loyal brainwashed agent. She mentally noted to bring this up during her 'sucky dad' contest with Raven later.

Rose: It's Rose.

Slade fell silent as he slipped on his brass knuckles.

Rose (pinching the bridge of her nose): I cut my working eye out for you.

Slade: Oh! The one who proved her loyalty to me. Got it… Daughter? Right, Rose is my daughter. Just remember to bring me blueberry muffins on visitors' day.

Rose: You really don’t want to hear the reason behind—

Slade (with a hint of hatred for the Joker in his tone): Rose, regardless!

Rose: Cool, thanks. Loyal to ya.

Slade (with a cocky grin): I know you are.

With that, he abruptly ended the call and strode out of his cell.

Slade: Hey, jester man! Get over here!

---Meanwhile at Rose's house---

Rose ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Rose (whispering to herself): Thank God he hasn’t realized I hate his guts. I really am such a good person.

Jason: You done with the call? I’m getting cold in here, come back to bed.

Rose smiled as she let her robe fall to the floor, heading back to her room. She closed the door quietly behind her, keeping her plan to punish the Joker in prison a secret from Jason—at least for now, until the moment felt just right.

[bokettochild]

In the Opera house AU, do Violet Incidents still happen? XD

If they did, it would be very different indeed.

Legend in the Opera House AU is only seventeen, while Warriors is closer to his mid twenties, and unlike in a medieval world where stress and war have aged them considerably, they actually look their ages in the OH AU, so that might be a bit odd.

Legend definitely couldn't pass as anyone's mom at any rate, unless there was a random baby left with the boys, but even then he'd look like a teen parent. He'd probably pull the sibling card though, and isn't adverse to playing at being someone's SO to get them out of a rough patch, although the older that person is the less likely he can help without getting them in more trouble. Warriors', maybe, Hyrule, definitely, Four, sure, but for the most part there aren't many events where he'd need to act as anything save himself, and usually just being an ass is rough to get people to leave his friends/co-workers alone

If you all really want, I could maybe work out an Incident-esque event for the OH boys, but all things considered, Legend would do a better job passing as someone's younger sibling or child in the OH AU than their spouse or parent.

That said! He's probably called Time, Twilight and Sky all "dad" at some point to dissuade unwanted flirtations. Sky he does it anyway, but he really hypes it up if women are hitting on the guy, and makes a big show of talking about "mom" as well.

Same deal for Malon and Sun, he will totally call them both "mom" to get guys off their asses, although it's less needed because Malon likes handling it herself and Sun tends to be better at rejecting guys than her husband is.

[4lexnilsen]

“are you aware of this very special talent of yours?   how you make everything way more fun than it really is?”   alex coos with a sweet,  boyish smile,  watching as poppy’s lips close around the still warm cinnamon roll.   he laughs as crumbs fall onto the floor between them,  the pad of his thumb dusting off her chin.   he’s loved baking ever since he can remember.   at first,  it was something that brought him closer to his mom or rather the memory of her.   then,  it became an effective way of keeping all his brothers occupied —   baking cookies for santa,  pumpkin pies for thanksgiving,  cherry pies as a sweet summer treat.   now it’s mostly a hobby,  and his love language.   after all,  nothing says i love you quite as homemade sweets.   and having poppy around,  either perched on the counter or hugging him from behind or adding some secret ingredients to his recipes,  never fails to make his heart soar.   “yeah,  no…   if you spell it out for me,  it’ll be the only thing on my mind until we get back home.   you don’t want to torture me like this.   i’ve got an idea.”   he beams at her,  feeding him and letting out these little moans of approval that always make his cheeks heat up.   those cinnamon rolls are really good,  though.   “oh,  we’ll do that.”   his nieces and nephews don’t know the difference between homemade goods and those store-bought.   they’ll be content as long as the sugar index is high enough to put a grown man in a diabetic coma.   

the nilsen’s family reunions are usually highly entertaining events.   their brothers turn into five year olds the second they cross the threshold of their childhood home,  their spouses attempt to keep them under control up until that third glass of wine and then dissolve into giggles and gossip,  the actual children are like chimpanzees on the loose,  and his father tends to get emotional every time the festivities come to an end,  but alex wouldn’t want to have it any other way.   being the self-proclaimed favorite uncle,  he is immediately swarmed by all the snot-covered gremlins,  sticky hands dragging him away to assist in the annual pumpkin painting / carving contest,  little voices ringing in his ears,  demanding his full,  undivided attention.    he has to,  once or twice,  explain to his six year old niece that poppy isn’t dressed as a female version of pennywise   (yes,  the hair is the same color.   yes,  it might be confusing.   no,  not all redheads are evil clowns.   yes,  some orange-haired politician are evil clowns,  but that’s beyond the point.)   and he’s not a victorian orphan,  but other than that it’s a fairly peaceful evening.   he ends up with glitter and bows in his hair,  lipstick on his eyelids,  but that’s nothing new.   they love turning him into a princess,  and he’s just glad to be included.   after all,  one day,  all these kids will be grown up and think he’s anything but cool.

“baby,”   he calls out from across the room,  seeing that she’s been chatting up with his dad and deciding to throw her a life raft in case she needs it,   “would you like to join us?   i don’t think i have the skill to help lily bring her vision to life,  but you’re real good with makeup.   i think you’re also good at painting pumpkins.”   his little niece beams at that,  her bleach blonde wig barely hanging onto her scalp,  that blue elsa gown all wrinkled after hours of playing with her cousins.   there’s paint on her cheeks and hands,  but she still jumps up to her feet and races to where poppy’s seated,  hoping to drag her to the floor so she can help her turn that big pumpkin into olaf.   “alex doesn’t know who olaf is,”   she explains with a sigh and a dramatic roll of her eyes,  hands on her hips as she judges her uncle for that embarrassing lack of knowledge.  

@sparelove

"of course i want to try it." as alex dips the knife into the icing, she's careful to place a hand beneath it as he lays it carefully across her tongue. "yeah, no. we can't bring that. i have to eat one right now." she smiles when she notices the pink of alex's cheeks. "you know what i mean, alex nilsen. don't be coy." she takes the knife from his hand and continues to ice the rest of the cinnamon rolls, teasing him all the while. "work it off meaning something akin to what we did this morning, and last night. would you like me to spell it out for you?" she scoops a roll onto a plate that sat close by, grabbing alex a fork so they could both try it. "i make no promises that we won't be late though, if we start…" poppy cuts a piece, waiting for him to open his mouth before pulling away. a moan of pleasure passes her lips when she tries a bite of her own. these may have been the best cinnamon rolls she's ever had. "we should just pick up those festive frosted sugar cookies on the way."

which is exactly what they did; and despite the looks of judgement from bryce when they arrive without what had been promised, poppy quickly shuts the second nilsen brother down. "i'm sorry, bryce, what was it you made for this party?" she asks as she sets down their container of cookies. when his eyes narrow on her, poppy pushes again, "it's my fault, not his. they were just too good to be wasted on the youth." byrce rolls his eyes with a laugh, "i'm not disappointed my children aren't getting to have any. i'm disappointed." she nods, "now that i understand."

after explaining to a few of alex's neices and nephews what their costumes were, and therefore also explaining that they weren't old enough to watch the film, poppy found herself sitting with mr. nilsen while everyone else carved pumpkins. "you know, i didn't used to let the boys even celebrate this holiday," he began, prompting a chuckle from poppy. "i do know as a matter of fact. your son and i had a fight about it earlier." the confession prompts a look of concern from alex's father but the blonde is quick to settle his worries. "about religion, more specifically. it worked itself out." there's a heavy sigh as mr. nilsen crosses his hands in his lap, looking across the room to his children and grandchildren were. "i didn't know any better." poppy nods before she settles an arm across his shoulders. "but now you do, and that's all that matters." the only point that meant something was that four well-rounded men were out in the world. they had families and lovers, great friends and careers that kept a roof over their heads. by all means, mr. nilsen was successful. no parent was perfect. but the love poppy felt from alex and the rest of his family was a job well done in her opinion. complicated relationship with religion or not, she was happier when she was around them.

[knickynoo]

Two of my favorite little scenes from BTTF part II are the moments where Marty stops to watch his parents in 1955. I mean, he was only just there living through those events one day prior, but he didn't actually have a chance to soak any of it in or process it. (He'd come flailing into the parking lot just after George punched Biff but hardly had time to appreciate any of it on account of his picture still fading, and then at the dance, he was. You know. Actively being erased from existence up there on stage for a while.)

Even though the stakes are still unbelievably high when he returns to '55 to try to track down the almanac, and he's just experienced what may be the most stressful and terrifying day of his life with all the 1985A nonsense, he makes it a point to slow down enough to watch his parents at the dance. And there's just this look on his face—a mixture of awe and relief and happiness. You can tell. You can tell this is getting permanently etched into Marty's memory. He's taking in every detail. He's holding tightly to these sweet moments of watching his parents (who had been unhappily married most of or all of his life) FALL IN LOVE. A real, true love that he's never had a chance to see them in before.

Not to mention the fact that in the reality he'd just arrived from, his mother had been forced into marriage with Biff, and his father was dead. Marty's just come from a place where his family had been completely destroyed, and now he's watching the very foundation of it coming together. This is the beginning of it all, and it's a reminder of what he's trying so hard to save and get back to.

And it's so very nice that we see him hitting the pause button for a few seconds in this chaos-fest to look at his mom and dad with such love.

[lilacerull0]

i feel like reading/watching mbf immediately means knowing who i am as a person and... i cannot allow this

[electoons]

giving my ldb a daughter. embarrassing for all involved. mostly me

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Naegami Fluff and/or Shenanigans 18

Makoto has an absolute grudge against mouthwash and Byakuya just doesn't understand any of it.

Basically, as a kid, Makoto's parents decided one day to try and get more healthy with their dental hygiene. I like to believe that Makoto's parents are the type to follow trends like "Oh, honey. There's this new mouthwash everyone's raving out. We should totally try it!". Or, maybe instead of mouthwash, it was something else. However, they had to settle for the cheaper stuff because they aren't forking over half of their earnings for this. Also, side note, I just feel that Makoto's parents sometime get suckered into fads too. It's not like they MEAN to, but still. Regardless, with this mouthwash brough, Makoto got some unsavory memories he doesn't wanna think about like crying like a little baby which makes him embarrassed because of the cringe. He also doesn't give me the energy that he cried too much as a kid so this just stuck with him a lot BECAUSE he happened to cry from this. Or maybe, Makoto just accidently swallowed the mouthwash and went to the ER or something! However, luck has it that no, he is not going to be able to never think about this again because Byakuya's now looking at him with an all-knowing glare and it's back with the mouthwash all over again. It all started with Byakuya picking up on some of Makoto's dental habits which led him just to bluntly claim one day that Makoto had gingivitis and he can tell. Which Makoto is... upset to know that yes. The heir was right on this assessment and also "Oh crap... this isn't going to go well for me." Which, yeah. This is a complete negative for Makoto in his eyes. Every time Makoto uses the mouthwash Byakuya's provided (which it is of course, quite expensive), he always makes a little noise of disgust like "Ew! gross" or "Bleh! This is so awful..." which Byakuya doesn't get at all. It doesn't help that Byakuya could chug a whole bottle of Brown Listerine and feel nothing about it. But, anyway, Makoto hates the mouthwash, Byakuya supervises Makoto and stalks him like a hawk, Makoto constantly complains while Byakuya explains that "This is important." and "Stop whining. It solves nothing". This cycle ends up going on for a while though Byakuya "isn't going to baby sit him forever" which then leans to rebellion! Aka, Makoto slowly tries to be sneaky and stop using the product over time. Makoto treats the situate like he's Solid Snake stealthing about though he's very obviously not subtle and gets caught in less than a week. However, Byakuya feels a bit merciful after all of this. And tired. That too. I can see them finding some sort of compromise and maybe Makoto apologizes for acting so strongly against it all when he knows he can handle it. Maybe Byakuya also reevaluates his role too and how he probably shouldn't have just forced this all on Makoto. Taking it slow was probably the better fit for the both of them anyway. Idk. Feel it should end well for them. ALLLSO an additional little bit that is not related to most of this post but is here anyway cus I feel like it: Makoto also does the "Bleh!" noise or other adjacent vocalizations whenever he trips up a sentence or messes up a word really bad. Byakuya also doesn't get why Makoto does this either. For him, it's just like, "Why are you making weird noises? Just pause and restart the sentence." It just makes sense in Makoto's mind though so the heir is in a perpetual state of never getting any of this.

[milimeters-morales]

I don’t write Hobie as someone struggling with addiction because he’s black i write him like that because of nearly everything ELSE about him, both movie and comic-wise, but because he’s black he’s more likely to have be targeted by companies/people pushing/forcing more drugs onto him even if he’s trying to quit, and then denied the help he needs and demonized for it, which makes him struggle more with it. u get what i’m saying??? It’s like how i don’t write Miles G. as more aggressive and cold because he’s black, but because of his general life situation. But because he’s black, other people in his life might’ve reinforced these ideas that he was naturally going to behave this way, and you can only hear something about yourself so much (and at a young age too) before you begin to believe it, even a little, and then don’t see reason to fight it even if it’s not true. sorry if i’m not explaining this too well, but you see what i mean????

[catastrxblues]

—

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya is definitely the sort of parent who prefers to sleep in the same bed as his baby.

[kyofsonder]

Life, aiming a loaded crossbow at me: I'm sorry. You were involved in the decisions that led to this, but you can't know whether they're worth it until everything is done. This is the first step. Endure it as best you can.

Me, shot with the crossbow bolt: [looks down and sees a label tied to the bolt that reads "metaphor for stressful situation"] Ow. Thanks for the warning, I guess? At least it's the only thing I'm getting shot with for a good while.

Life, reloading several bolts into the crossbow at once: Have you ever heard of speed shooting?

Me: I want it to be known that I resent this.

Life: Noted. [shoots me multiple times in quick succession]

Me, on the floor and stuck full of crossbow bolts all over my body: Recovering from this is gonna suck.

[themoonstonechronicler]

im making everything up