#(and maybe... if he was the worst version of himself and made things worse and it didn't ruin everything...)

[fluffypurpleglitterdemon]

Everything was getting worse slowly, now time for everything to get worse very quickly! All at once!

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[em-ontv]

Under his skin.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!supe!reader

Summary: When he met you, who was just like him; tempered, aggressive, he immediately hated you, no, loathed. But maybe that's not all he feels for you.

Warnings: vulgar language/cursing, mentions of violence (barely), no use of y/n, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand.

Author’s note: So… I just wanted something where this man isn’t an egoistic maniac. He annoys me so much but I love him <3, this was written just out of spite, enjoy!

Word count: 705

Ben hated you.

You were a supe, a big deal. The leader of a new team of supes who were really just assholes when the cameras were turned off, and each of them possessed powers more messed up than the previous.

You were quick to throw fists and unleash whatever terrifying power you were gifted with. And fuck, did that rub him the wrong way. It was the same recipe, a sweet smile in front of the public and a complete disregard for human life in private. And you were the worst of them all; invulnerable, aggressive, with a temper that made Soldier Boy himself look like a boy scout.

He fucking hated you for that.

It was bad enough that Vought thought it was a good idea to create another superteam in case Payback ever went awry — then it succeeded, way too much for Ben's liking.

He had a hard enough time trying to keep his own idiots in line without worrying about another set of so-called 'heroes' stepping on his turf. But no, they went ahead and made you into their new big thing. And what's worse? You were someone who didn't take shit from anyone — not even him.

From the first day you met, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. You talked to him like he was nothing, like some relic from a different era. You didn't just talk back; you tore into him, picking apart his ego piece by piece, you got under his skin like a parasite.

But the real kicker? You weren't afraid of him. You stared him down like he was a joke. It got to a point where he couldn't stand the sight of you. Just knowing you were around would set him off, make him want to tear somebody's head off, preferably yours.

"Where's the asshole?" Ben growled at Mindstorm, who swallowed thickly and pointed toward a room. He shot him a glare before nearly kicking the door open.

And there you were, sitting there with a smirk on your face, like you owned the place.

He clenched his fists, feeling his blood pressure rise, and you haven't even said anything yet. "You piece of shit. You think you're hot stuff, huh? Running that joke of a team like a dictator?"

"Don't be mad at me just because your team can't find it in their hearts to respect you." you tilted your head. "Talking about Payback, how is it? Still playing dress-up?"

His jaw twitched, and for a moment, he considered throwing you through the wall.

"You're nothing but a wannabe," he spat. "A cheap rip-off version of me. I don't know how you got this far, but don't think for a second that you're anywhere close to me."

You just grinned, more amused than anything, but there was a hint of anger lingering behind your eyes. "You're a washed-up mascot for Vought. Your team can't handle the dirty work,” you leaned forward. “And you as their leader? You can't even get your own shit together, talk about leading a team."

Ben's face flushed with anger, his fingers twitching toward his shield. But you just watched him, knowing you stuck a nerve.

"You're lucky Vought's got rules," he muttered, barely holding himself back. "Because if it was up to me—"

"You'd do nothing, Ben." you cut him off, your voice dripped with condescension. "Because you can't do anything. Not to me."

And in a split second, he swung his shield at you, but you didn't dodge.

You caught it.

And then it started.

Slowly but surely, Ben would lie awake at night, fists clenched, jaw tight, replaying your arguments in his head. He'd think about you and that infuriating smirk. The anger was still there, seething, but there was something else now, something creeping in at the edges of his thoughts.

It was humiliating, that's all it was. He was Soldier Boy, the toughest bastard on the planet. He didn't take shit from anyone, let alone someone like you. But then, one night, after downing half a bottle of whiskey and staring at the ceiling for hours, it hit him like a freight train.

He didn't just want to beat you.

He wanted you.

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[selineram3421]

*new version of Alastor takes over the Internet* Hehe.

Cursed Cat Headcanons

Curse Cat Alastor & Human Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ mentions of death, "normal" cat stuff ⚠

You find a strange looking cat at the shelter.

The red creature was separated from the other cats and behind a heavy duty glass with multiple scratch marks.

"Can I interact with this one?", you asked.

"I don't think we are allowed to let that one out...", the worker says. "We're not even sure if its a cat."

You were also not sure as the little creature had antlers.

"Might have been dead this morning.", they mumbled but you caught it.

"Uh...ok.", you say, feeling a little put off how calmly the employee said that. "I'll take them."

And that's how you got a cat.

Once having the necessary items and a cat tower order placed, you bring the red cat home.

It sounds a bit angry. Growling, hissing, scratching and biting the inside of the cat carrier.

Maybe they didn't like small spaces..

Their first day was...something.

You ended up having to fix or toss out a lot of furniture.

They seemed to like sitting on top of your bookshelf. Often watching as you cleaned around the room or when you slept.

Kinda creepy. And you swore you saw their eyes glow once.

But other than the strange shadows and weird noises, you didn't have problems. In fact, they took care of the spiders and other pesky bugs that managed to get into your home.

Eventually, you tried to call them by names from a list that you made but they mostly ignored you whenever you tried.

It wasn't until you were watching Hazbin Hotel that the red cat perked up.

"I'm Alastor!", your favorite character introduced himself.

The red creature then hopped onto your coffee table and stared at you, effectively grabbing your attention.

"What is it?", you asked before noticing your T.V. glitch and loop.

"I'm Alastor!", it said again. "¡'m Al@$tør!", it started to distort. "Ĭ̢̜͝'m̬̟̑͗ Á̘͉̉l͈̯̾̀á̘͉̉s͚͈̭̦̈́̈̄͒t͙́ó͎̥͡ṙ̻!", the audio was getting worse and worse as it repeated. "ł'₥ ₳Ⱡ₳₴₮ØⱤ."

Glancing at your cat, you noticed it was grinning like the oh so famous cheshire cat.

"Uh..Alastor?", you said.

As soon as you called them the name, the episode continued to play regularly and your cat had its normal happy demeanor.

"Ok...", you paused the show and went to the kitchen for snacks. "I might have picked up a cursed cat."

After that, Alastor actually seemed to like you. No longer hissing or scratching you when you tried to pet them and sought you out for some cuddles.

Hehehehe..

You had to take him to the vet for a check up and well.. It turned out exactly how you expected it to. Also, you found out they were a he.

He was number one..of the worsts cats in the vet hospital's care. They had to order new gloves meant for hawks.

After that, you got him a little bow to match the character Alastor and he seemed to really enjoy it. Of course, the red cat was quite fluffy and only the bow part was visible.

The cat tower finally arrived and you set it up. It was mostly black, coming with a feather toy as well.

"Done!", you stepped back and smiled at the finished cat tower.

Of course, like any cat, Alastor was not amused. Sitting in the packaging box comfortably.

"You know what? I'm not even mad. I used to sit in boxes as a kid.", you said and cleaned up the bubble wrap.

Things were turning out pretty well. That is until your neighbor got a weird looking pet. Now you knew Alastor was strange but he looked like a cat. Whatever the neighbor has was something else.

It was black with blue and some red. Flat looking face and a strange tail.

Maybe it was an exotic animal?

You weren't sure but Alastor hated, HATED, them.

And you made sure not to walk your little furball when the other pet was out. Making that mistake once. Once being enough.

I bestow upon ye cat Alastor!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @willowaudreykeyes @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙️

[warping-realities]

Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn��t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students  after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious  starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one  in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

[welcometogrouchland]

It's mostly the fault of poor editorial practices that B&R is so heavily misaligned continuity-wise w/ the main batman book. But walk with me for a minute:

You are Damian Wayne. You are 14 years old and have had one of the worst years of your life last year. Which is saying a lot.

Your brother, one of the people you were closest to, got shot in the head and forgot who you were. Your best friend went to space for a week and came back 3/4 years older than you, taking away your previously established dynamic and leaving you to have to bond all over again w/ a new one. You may or may not have gone wayyy too far with your new superhero team, who now all hate you, because you fucked up big time*

And worst of all, when you do try to do the right thing, you end up forced to watch Alfred, a father figure to you, the only one at your birthday that year, the person who has been so patient, loving and trusting with you, even when you probably didnt deserve it...die. you watch him die, and feel it's all your fault.

And your dad never corrects you on that last point. So you run away.

First to your mom who can tell something's up with you, she knows you don't give up that easy, you decide not to stay with her because you remembered how actually, neither of your parents are good at communicating with you despite their best efforts, so now you're 14 and flying solo.

And you do fly solo. For a while. Make new friends, new enemies. You think you're better off for it. You've got your best friend and your brother back. They're not around as much. It's fine.

And eventually your dad tells you that it's not your fault that Alfred died. Bit late but it's appreciated. Really. There's a bit of a hiccup where you get possessed by a demon and wage war against your father but after that, all in all, you two are...together again.

You start to think maybe you want to give him another chance, for the two of you to be father and son.

And in a change of pace, it works out! It's going good, mostly. He insists you go to highschool, you resist, feel like he wants you to be something that you're not (wants you to be normal), but eventually you acquiesce for your own reasons. He cheers you on at soccer and nosies around at your fundraising events with the other parents and gives you a stern talking to about your choice of girlfriend. Because he cares.

Except all the while this is going on, your dad is currently having his brain slowly taken over by an evil version of himself that he created and every time you look away he's slowly tearing your family apart (your brothers are just barely keeping it together. The ones who didn't get lobotmized that is Jesus Christ). You keep taking his side in these conflicts, for whatever reason. Maybe because he promised it would be different this time, and it isn't** and you're going to stick with him until he keeps his word for once.

But at the end of the day?

It's like your brother says. You're not the one who saves him. Broadly speaking, you've made things worse and needed others to come save you. And what else is Robin really for? You thought it was about redemption and teamwork but guess you're wrong. It's about saving your self destructive, apparently two-faced and erratic father. And you can't even do that right.

* TT (2016) by Adam Glass is a racist ooc mess, but unfortunately it's still canon so I'm referencing here, though like a lot of works authors clearly wish weren't canon but are, it's been subsequently glossed over. Win? Maybe? Or not?

** again Zdarky's characterization of Damian is so outdated as to be ooc, and considering the way he constantly and explicitly uses it to illustrate Tim's strengths as robin, I'd argue there's. Also implications there. But the batshit insanity of the main batbook compared to B&R rn is crucial for this post, so I'm attempting to justify it. This time..

[lking-creation-hub]

So I'm replaying Slay the Princess now that the Pristine Cut is out, starting with a quick run of the game mostly to get the Stranger's ending in the heart of the Princess. Somehow that was the first Ending I found in my first playthrough of the original game, and I wanted to recreate it in this new 'universe' and keep a save file with her there right next to the original save file, before I go back and comb through for new content, so I was playing through a first run pretty quickly (and still somehow got to the new Damsel content, those who have seen it will know).

I'll admit I cried a lot of times in my first playthough, and I know I would probably cry again in this one. Maybe not at the same places, but probably the new content.

But even in my first playthrough, when I cried, I kept going. But just now I've come up on one line that made me have to fully stop for a few minutes (which is what I'm doing now, processing by posting this). I don't know if this line was in the original version, I think I would have remembered it, but...

(Spoilers below)

In response to the Princess saying 'It took courage for you to make your way down here, away from the paths others would have had you walk. We find that courage beautiful,' The Contrarian says this:

And something about that line damn near broke me just now. I could (and maybe will) go on a huge ramble about how heartbreaking it is for the seemingly-confident and seemingly-lighthearted Contrarian to so casually describe himself as 'the worst part of us', as if that's a fact. I'm genuinely sobbing at that thought, partly because I do relate to it. He has such a factual tone when he describes himself as just completely bad, the 'worst part of us' in his entirety, and god I know how much it hurts to think of yourself like that, to believe that every part of yourself is awful and makes things worse. This was the last character I'd expect to relate on that, but it adds so much depth to him.

And past that, the complete compassion in the Princess calling that part of them beautiful. The idea that these things we look at in ourselves and hate can be held with such compassion by someone else. I just can't describe how light and kind of overwhelmed it feels. Like I'm still typing mostly because I don't think I'm ready to go back into the game and see the next line. The game is still sitting on the screen I have screenshot above, because this scene is just so overwhelmingly beautiful to me that I actually need a break to process it (in the MOST complimentary way, of course).

@blacktabbygames You nailed it the first time around and from what little I've played of the Pristine Cut you've somehow improved on what I had previously considered a perfect game. I can't wait to explore all of the rest of it (and probably pick up Scarlet Hollow after I've fully explored Slay the Princess).

[chocochipjewel]

Yapping about Belos and his ending excessively while also analysing him to the best of my ability under the cut

So given how much art of him I've reblogged by now, it really shouldn't come as a surprise that Belos is my favourite character from the Owl House.

I could talk about him for HOURSS but I just want to talk about 2 of my favourite moments of him to highlight the parts of him I love the most.

This moment in Hollow Mind, when he gets the key in his hand and you can see the light in his eyes. It's the only time his eyes have the distinct shine in them like every other character has all the time, and it's cause of the key he's holding. The key to the human realm is the only thing that gives him that shine cause it's the only thing he genuinely cares about. Everything he's doing is to go back home and revel in glory, which, while selfish, adds so much to his character. He's not doing this JUST for power, he became an Emperor just to tear his own creations down. I just find something extremely poetic about that.

And the second moment -

THIS MOMENT. THIS MOMENT IN KING'S TIDE AJDHSJSHSJS

I'm still mad these flashbacks were never brought up in any big way cause THEY REALLY SHOULD HAVE BUT AHSKSJS I'M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF.

Belos reliving his worst memories was always a concept that was going to be interesting because it's an insight into what really gets into the head of our main antagonist. What does the guy who is everyone else's worst fear have to fear. And the answer is himself.

The 3 memories he sees are him approaching Caleb with the knife, the actual murder as pictured above, and the creation of the grimwalkers.

What really gets me is that his eyes are wide when he recalls the first memory, but they look smaller in the second memory (in the screenshot). Maybe it's just the angle but I always interpreted it as his expression shifting to be one of genuine sadness for this particular memory. Because the mere fact that his most personal crime is also his worst memory is such an interesting concept. How does he live with that sort of guilt and worse, keep doing those same crimes but WORSE?

All of Hollow Mind could just be here really and I wouldn't complain. It's THE episode for Belos fans that really allowed us to dig into him, and the mere fact that he's consciously scratched off Caleb from all the happy memories as if to justify his own fratricide is a level of desperate coping that I just find so very interesting ajdjhsjjs

Not to mention that his inner self is a child, which, while a pretence by him, could still say something about how in his head, he still has not grown up and is still playing pretend, still playing witch hunter with every version of Caleb he creates, still playing god to finally achieve a fantasy so very childish and so frankly basic that it makes anyone watching from the outside think "wait, that's it? That's all this is for?" AND THAT'S THE POINT

Cause none of this needed to happen. None of this has a greater value than Philip trying to chase after lost dreams. All the plans he made, all his great power and his great empire amounts to nothing because he himself plans to destroy all of it to chase that childhood dream. Just like Luz, he entered the Boiling Isles to find a home, only his home was Caleb and he was never willing to love new things in the Isles, while Luz loved so much she literally changed the lives of everyone she met by loving them. And unlike Luz, Philip never grew out of that mindset, only burying it in layers and layers of lies and half truths.

In general, his relationship with Caleb is for sure the most interesting part of his character to me. The fact that he both repeatedly murders and repeatedly creates new grimwalkers in an endless cycle and then hallucinates Caleb looking at him with disdain implies so much about his dependancy on Caleb and the deepest parts of himself that know what he's doing is wrong. The parts that have broken free from the layers and layers of cognitive dissonance and have accepted that he was wrong, without any more justifications.

And now, to 'briefly' rant about him in season 3

Thanks to Them was juicy for character exploration, but I wish we actually got to see him react to the human realm properly. It's everything he's wanted, it's the one thing that still brings light into his life but the world he returned to would absolutely hate him. He's done all this for nothing. I wanted so badly to see how he copes with his guilt then, but they were short on time so I get it.

For the Future's hallucination scene makes this even more interesting cause of the depiction of him actually seriously suffering from something like hallucinations. It was dark as hell, and it was really interesting.

And then... WaD. All in all, a great finale. The only real big problem I had with it was Belos' ending.

After so much buildup to his depth and his motivations and his guilt and all his lies slowly collapsing around him, after everything he did to so many people, he deserved a better death. I don't think he didn't deserve death, I just think it happened too quick. Where was the final cathartsis from all his victims shunning him (Luz staring was perfect don't get me wrong, but the whole Hexsquad deserved to be there). Where was the moment he would finally no longer be able to lie to himself and he would be forced to accept that he did EVERYTHING he did, made all those great sacrifices, tortured so many people, just to fail and be at his victims' mercy after accomplishing nothing?

I understand the finale was juggling many MANY characters and plotpoints, but that's not stopping me from wishing for a better ending.

I wish I had had the motivation to draw something for this like I'd hoped, but a brief description about what kind of ending I'd have wanted will have to do.

I wish Luz saw his memories in the place in between with Papa Titan. It would reinforce her arc of feeling like they come from the same place too, if she saw Caleb leaving Philip and Philip's original goal of just wanting to get his brother back. I wish Luz saw all his "sad" memories and really started to question herself.

And then I would have wanted Papa Titan to shoot that down regardless, and then explain that while Belos may have started out a victim of his circumstances as an orphaned child in a cult, the Isles gave him chances to change. Memories of Philip in the Isles seeing Caleb happy, being given chances by witches, being given so many chances to change, and rejecting them accompanying this scene would be ideal. Really hammer in that he aas responsible for his own suffering and that he has absolutely no excuse for what he did to all his victims.

And then, in the final death scene, as he claims that as humans they are better than witches one last time, I wish the ghosts of all his victims showed up to prove him wrong. Every witch and grimwalker who choose to be better than him before they fell. Every member of the Hexsquad who believed in him and his regime at one point. Every single one of them a reminder of how his lies can't even convince himself anymore.

And finally, his own brother, a fellow human, who appears before him. I imagine Caleb looking at him with pity, almost sympathy, before a quiet acceptance comes onto his face and he turns away from him. He walks towards the crowd and chooses their side, next to Evelyn. Neither Caleb nor Luz say a single word. There is nothing left to be said to him anymore. Every single person on the Isles, human or witch, has turned against him now.

If anything could break his will, I think this would be it. I imagine him phasing through his different forms, trying to find a way to justify himself in each one, gradually desolving into desparate screams, before the boiling rain melts him away like in canon (except without the stomping please).

Aaaand that's it, no more notes. Thanks so much to all the Wittebane fans in the community who have kept his fanbase fed when the show didn't meet our standards and who prompted the line of thought that led to this post.

There are so many of you all who inspired and made my fandom experience fun and created so much out of just Philip, Caleb, and Evelyn (and all your OCs of course!!) so I'm just going to shoutout the ones I remember off the top of my head -

@talisman975

@jess-the-vampire

@calebsrottingcorpse

@owlyhouse

@anona1-mous

@captainmera

@moonmeg

@azure-blaze92

@a-magpie-in-the-bi

@a-magpie-in-gravesfield

This is no particular order and I'm surely missing more so this is by no means exhaustive, but this is just a shoutout for those who kept this fandom going. Y'all are the real troopers for sure.

That's all I got, but I'm posting some old Belos art soon! Cheers all, and may the terrible awful no good goo babygirl keep inspiring us for all the great art <3

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere! Roman Sionis x Reader

Note: I have a huge crush on Roman Sionis (not the BoP version) so I wanted to try my hand at writing him <3 Also, I am going with the version where he can take the mask off.

Tw. Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

Roman Sionis was a lot of things.

He was a trust fund kid who relied on daddy’s money all his life until he decided to take that money for himself.

He was a horrible business man so he turned into a mob boss, you know, as you do.

He was a whack job who had a sick and twisted obsession with you and was currently holding you captive.

But you honestly think that the worst part about him was that he was incredibly snarky and condescending. To you at least, his countless victims would most likely complain about his sadistic and brutal torture methods, but you doubt that you’d ever experience that for yourself. Mostly because Roman knew how to psychologically torture people in other ways.

“There we go, don’t you feel all pretty now?” He hummed, tilting his masked face and speaking in a way that made you know he was smirking. 

The scene is tense for everyone. His gangsters stand behind the other tailors who are sobbing quietly as they sit on one knee, you can feel the uneasiness of the two tailors behind you as they silently pray and beg repentance for every sin they’ve committed, but what makes it worse is that all eyes are on you. You want to avoid speaking, one of Roman’s favorite pastimes is to find a way to misinterpret your words on purpose so he could have an excuse to kill someone, to guilt you into thinking that you were the one who condemned them to death despite him pulling the trigger. You feel your stomach churn, knowing that someone was going to die for Roman’s own amusement, and he knew it too.

“C’mon, give Daddy a twirl, yeah?” He hums. 

Daddy.

You scrunch your nose in disgust. You absolutely hated it when he called himself that, it made you want to shrink into yourself, and rip your ears off so you’d never have to hear him say it again. He probably knew you hated it too, guessing by the way he chuckled at your incredibly obvious reaction, and it’s probably the only reason why he says it. Still, you do as he says because you have no choice and try to twirl for him enthusiastically. The last time you tried to be nonchalant about a gift as a form of subtle protest was when you were getting fitted for a ring, that resulted in one person losing their life and the employees getting all of their ring fingers cut off, and you know what Roman said to justify/blame it on you?

“You deserve only the best, sweetheart. If they can’t give it to you, then I don’t think they should be alive.”

Maybe in another life, where you were an equally depraved criminal, you would’ve found his words to be genuine and sweet. However, you knew that Roman Sionis was incapable of being genuine and sweet, and that this was another one of his mind games. A warning for future reference that if you wanna try and resist him, even in the most tiniest and insignificant ways, he will not stand for it. 

“Absolutely stunning.” He praises, standing up to walk towards you. 

You resist the urge to step away from him, no matter how strong it may be, because you know that’s another way to get someone killed. Instead you stand there, obediently like the good spouse you were, and don’t flinch when he brings a gloved hand to the diamond necklace around your neck.

“But you know me, I’m a sucker for you wearing anything expensive,” He says, almost in a tender tone as if there was some truth to his words, but you don’t think about that. Instead, you think about his next sentence:

“What do you think about it?”

You gulp and you look up at him, your eyes silently begging him not to do this to you. Not to make you have to stand outside the shop as you hear gunshots and crying, shamelessly throwing his arm around you with small droplets of blood decorating his nice white suit, and leaving you lying away from his body as your haunted by what you could have done differently even if you knew Roman wouldn’t have let you. His dark eyes stare back at you with nothing but a mischievous glee and you were on higher alert than ever.

“I love it!” You say, forcing your best smile and cheery tone.

He fidgets with your necklace between his fingers, his eyes now studying the way the diamond sparkles rather than your incredibly unconvincing expression, and he just says: “Yeah? That right?”

 Still, you nod eagerly and continue to try and guess what he wants to hear: “Yeah, it looks really good on me, I think! I really like the style, a-and the material, and the uh-” You lose your train of thought as he slowly lets go of the diamond hanging from the sterling silver chain, letting it fall back down to your chest as he slowly starts to walk behind you, and the goosebumps start to rise on your skin. You didn’t like this, you didn’t like this at all, but you still tried your best to keep going, “the, um, the color is nice.”

“The color, hm?” He mumbles, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he lowers his mouth (or where it’s supposed to be) next to your ear, “You sure about the color, sweet thing?”

You nod your head again, giving a shrill “mhm!” because your words are dying in your throat. You hated it when he got too close like this, it made you nervous, and you wanted him to get away from you. You wanted to push him off, to scream and run, but you also knew you couldn’t do that. His silence made the very blood in your veins run cold but set your mind on fire as you were trying to figure out how to salvage this already doomed moment. 

“Really? Because you hate this color.” Roman states, his hands moving from your shoulders to your waist.

Someone’s sobs become a little louder than the rest and when Roman turns his head to look at them, you quickly turn around to face him again and put your hands on his chest. It does what you intended it to do because his eyes are back on you.

“I changed my mind!” 

“Nah, I don’t think you did. If I recall, you absolutely hate this color because it reminds you of me.”

There’s an edge to his voice now, a petty “gotcha” kind of one. He wasn’t wrong, though, because he tried to give you something in the same horrendous color early on when he abducted you and you blew him off. Saying how you wouldn’t want something so gross and so…him. You gulp, realizing two things: 1. Roman had an excellent memory regarding you and 2. You just lied to his face. 

And he hated it even more when you lied.

You stammer out apologies and excuses, anything that could help the situation but he steps away from you before taking out his concealed gun. One of the workers lets out a fearful cry and tries to back away but one his False Facers comes and grabs them by their shoulders, walking closer towards Roman despite the fearful protest of the poor innocent civilian. They were going to be the first one to die.

“I mean, c’mon, none of ya had the decency to look at how unhappy they were when they saw the color? None of you guys stopped to ask them what was wrong and fix it and put a smile on their precious little face?” He shakes his head as he loads his weapon. They beg for their lives as you try to plead with the devil himself.

“Roman, please, they probably didn’t want to go against you! Th-They knew that you knew best and I- I promise I love this color-” 

You sound so pathetic, yipping at the big dog not to use his fangs, but you had no power here. No one did except for Roman Sionis, a man who never did anything other than to get more power for himself and to make others miserable, even the one he claimed to love the most. 

Then it hits you.

Your body reacts faster than your mind as you take the fleeting opportunity to have one hand grab his mask and the other to grab his tie. Not even Roman was aware of what was happening as he tensed up the moment he felt your lips against his. You gripped the mask tightly in your free hand as you kept a strong hold on his tie, even pulling him closer towards you as if you were trying to chain him to you. As if forcing yourself to do this usually romantic and loving act is enough to break his need for blood. And it does.

Once Roman understands what’s going on, he drops his gun and cups your face with his hands as he kisses you back. Tilting his head to the side to deepen it and his body relaxes. You might not see it but you cloud your mind completely. His eyes stay open for a while as he sees one beautiful tear stream down your cheek before they go half lidded and he surrenders himself to this bliss.

You’re making his heart do the thing again.  You did it to him the first time he met you, then you did it the second time, then so on and so forth, and here you go doing it again to him. You wonder why he’s so addicted to you, don’t worry, he does too. He wonders why he bothers with such an ungrateful little brat who doesn’t appreciate his gestures and only pays attention to the crimson that stains his hands, why he bothers with someone who sleeps on the farthest part of their bed as if Roman was some horrible monster they didn’t want to touch, but it’s times like this that he remembers why. It’s because you were the only one who could make him feel this way, who could give him a taste of what love felt like, but also made him feel so powerful when you did stuff like this as a last resort.He pulls away for air, your lips chase after him despite being out of breath as well to try and buy a little more time, but he’s just gonna tease you later and ask if he was just that damn good of a kisser. 

Roman stares at you again, this time really looking at you, and his hands still cup your face gently. His pants softly under his breath as one thumb from his hand gently caresses your cheek. You stare at him with hopeful eyes and while he does love keeping you at the bottom of his heel and remind you whose in charge…he figures that this time it wouldn’t hurt to let you have your way.

“On second thought, boys,” He starts and he loves the way you edge closer to him unintentionally, “...Let ‘em go, they can be off the hook. This time.”

You let out a breath of relief but then shyly hand Roman back his mask, your hand letting go of his tie and wrapping your arm around his. As he puts on his mask, he relishes in the feeling of you resting your head on his shoulder and being more affectionate with him. Maybe you were so relieved that you managed to get through to him or maybe you were just exhausted with everything that went down but you fall asleep on his shoulder during the ride home and when he’s done admiring the sight, he gently puts his head on top of yours.

[icarusredwings]

Bad Kitty secret part three!!!???

Tw: Drowning, unconscious medically needed touching, graphic descriptions of distress, pain, and medical conditions/ open wounds. Some scenes may be uncomfortable. Viewer discretion is advised.

For @shittyvampire and @whiskeyandcigarsmoke

Fixing him up took a bit longer than he thought it would, seeing as each type of wound had different needs to subside. Overall, it was a pretty easy process, Just tedious.

He put him in a hot bath, letting him soak as he did his best to pop what he could while he was unconscious, cleaning them with sterilizing gel after cutting small holes into the abscess’ in order for them to drain.

“Ew” He muttered, immediately shaking his head and biting his tongue. He shouldn't say those things. What if he had heard that? Logan knew it was one of his biggest no-nos. Besides, It's not like it was his fault. This just.. happened.. sometimes.

Maybe he panicked when he wasn't there and it caused his skin to get worse? He heard that sometimes when you get stressed out you could break out in hives. Maybe this was Wade's version of that.

As for the blisters and boils, he helped the best and quickest he could, sometimes holding him under the water if he started to smell a little too conscious. The longer he held him, the more limp he would be, easier for him to work with.

At times though, Logan would quickly recoil, jerking him back up out of the water, his instincts telling him to save him.

“Damn it- come on. Get it together.” He grumbles, biting himself as he pushes him back under. Feeling the weak struggles made him tear up, singular tears falling as he looked away. He wasn't cut out for this anymore.

The thought alone made him realize that.. holy shit.. he was now the worst at what he was made for. He couldn't even bare to stab him in the head anymore, so what use would he be as a weapon to them? To anyone?

He was the shittiest weapon there was. And this made him smile. He couldn't wait to tell him. To tell Wade that…

His smile subsides as he realizes his hopes were not as real as he wished them to be… He killed him. Twice by now. He couldn't be so excited to tell him how excited he was that he was no longer a person whose hands bring nothing but pain when said hand right this second was drowning him, watching the bubbles come out of the water with little reaction. A stare of pity and that was all.

The consciousness in his chest felt heavier than Wade's limp wet limbs. With sorrow weighing down the lids of his, Logan's deadpanned straight forward stare looked as bout as mindless as a fox with rabies, trying its damndest to find help. Walking forward with no distinction of where it was actually headed. The glossiness over his eyes showing just how much he dreaded having a soul.

Placing him down on a towel in their bed, Logan takes a deep breath. He washes his hands, pats the still oozing crevasses dry, wiping them clean before dousing him in rubbing alcohol. Just hearing the sizzling And seeing the bubbling makes him feel terrible. The thought of catching him on fire, letting his body regenerate came to mind. He wiped this memory away just as he did the excess lipids, beginning to look at the various creams they had, smearing Neosporin, Lotions, Cocoa butter balms, and petroleum jelly all over him, different stuff in various places.

Carefully, he begins to unravel the gauze that he found in the kit, looking at the cotton padding and plaster dressing. Logan didn't have much knowledge of how he was supposed to wrap each individual wound (especially with the short amount of time he had left) but he made sure to make them tight enough to where they wouldn't fall off if he moved or walked around.

Hell.. by the time he was finished with him, he looked like a full body burn patient. Which.. honestly wasn't too far off. He had even done all that he could for his half deteriorated cheek.. he knew that hurt. Especially since The skin there was completely gone, exposing rotting muscle and thin layers of fat in between cancerous polyps.

Part of Logan felt bad for scrunching and turning up his nose, overwhelmed by the sickly sweet stench of death, Vaseline, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer, and many more scents that made him feel as if he were playing doctor.

Oh That's it!! When he woke up that's what he'd say. He'd tell him that they were playing Dr. Kitty and hopefully- Just maybe, he'd understand. Now.. the real trouble would be trying to change his bandages tomorrow. One could only pray that he was more cooperative.

Logan had dressed him in a long sleeve loose hoodie and comfortable sweats. He (falsely) had it in his head that this would deter him from picking at his scabs.

Looking down at his work, he felt a sense of pride and relief wash over him, though it didn't last long. ‘Shit- did I let that blister on his leg drain all the way?’ He thought, letting out another disappointed sigh as he propped a pillow under his neck, one under his really bad leg too to reduce the swelling.

Alright. So he wasn't the BEST wolverine… But he'd settle for ‘okay'. If he was the Okay-est Wolverine… He'd be okay with that.

But for now? All he had to do was Wait. He should wake up any moment and he definitely didn't want him to be afraid.

A total of 8 minutes pass before he hears that small gasp of air that makes his shoulders soften and his heart rate regulates every time.

Wade blinks, trying to sit up but is being held tightly by a certain worrisome Wolverine. A bit tight too. He was surrounded by his stuffies, his arms felt… Warm.. but a nice kind of warm. Leaning his head back against him, He turns his head, trying to nuzzle him only to realize that his face was wrapped too, hat And hood pulled up.

“...Hi..”

Logan almost jumps, as if nervous. He could feel him swallowing, hearing the gears in his head turning, thinking of what to say.

“Hi kiddo I uhm… we were playing doctor a-and erm.. you had a lot of booboos.” He says, his voice overly gentle.

Raising a non-existent brow, Wade blinked, turning back to look at him. “Logan… Why do I look like a mummy? I mean I'm cool if you're into that but jeez warn a gal first, wontcha?” He mutters playfully.

It was as if a massive wave of relief fell over him, shoulders dropping in relaxation as he groaned. “Oh thank fuck.. No! Never I just.. you.. you must have freaked out and given yourself a break out or.. something? I don't know but..”

Wade could tell he didn't want to talk about whatever it was. He assumed he was just being fussy earlier. He didn't remember much but he felt his body itch. “Sorry… Sooo what are we watchin’ Wolvie?” He asked, Itching his arm only for Logan to gently take it, giving him a squeeze. A small “Don't” leaving his lips. “Some doctor girl show… I thought.. it would be easier to explain if..”

Leaning further into Wade's neck, he was acting as if something was wrong. “... do you feel okay? OR-other then the itching?” Itchy was good. It meant he was healing. Ripping open his scabs? Not so much.

“I feel better than before.. I had this weird nightmare though that you were trying to strangle me to death. Ha! But that's normal right?” He smiles, dreaming often of his loved ones killing him. Either that or unicorns and tacos while committing murder. That was always a fun dream. “Oh! or the one where I can fly.” He responds to his own thoughts. As per usual.

Logan now looked like a guilty dog who's gotten in the trash. “...That wasn't a dream, Wade..” He whispers, sitting up as he pulls himself away from him, as if he didn't deserve his cuddles. He Had a plan to take this secret to the grave but the guilt was eating him up inside, gnawing on his heart and crunching up his bones. It felt like it was snapping pencils in his stomach and then jabbing them through his lungs.

Looking at him with A neutral face, Wade's mind was working to click it all together, staring at him with such wide, curious eyes. At times they flickered, biting his tongue as he listened to what the Jury in his head had to say. Multiple assuming and yelling various conspiracies. Though he decided to go with one that they could all agree on.

“...I'm sorry for being so difficult..” he mumbles, looking at his lap and then away, remembering almost all of it now. “I don't mean to be..”

Logan goes to grab his hand again only for him to instinctively pull it away, close to his chest, Afraid he might possibly try to strangle him again. He knew why he did it. He would have done way worse, but still, emotionally he was spooked. Just a bit.

While he breathed and searched his body language for ill intentions, Logan's hand never left the spot it was in the air, offering him to take it when he was ready.

"Are.. are you mad at me?" He finally spoke after Wade took the hand, pulling him back into him. He wanted to be held, coddled, loved. And this is exactly what Logan gave him, Wrapping his arms around him and letting Wade snuggle into his cheek.

"...no..” He decided, listening to his feelings, slowly learning to embrace them instead of hiding them away. That's what caused this whole break out to begin with.

“I still feel a little... scared.. but I know why you had to do it.. and... It was pretty hot that you did all that just to help me.. even if I literally stabbed you.."

“I strangled you, tried to poison you, suffocated you, drugged you, drowned you, and you're apologizing for stabbing me once?”

“...and for throwing a lot of stuff at your head..” He gives his forehead a kiss, trying to rub his face, knowing how much he loved that, his fingers through the coarse hairs on his jaw.

“You have incredible aim for a kid..” He grumbles.

“You did what you had to do to help me. I'm so proud of you..” He starts; wanting to take care of his Wolvie for his hard work.

“stop…”

“No really. You shouldn't have had to do all those things but you did, just to keep me out of pain. I don't think anyone else would have the balls to suffocate a kid, Peanut.”

He groans, upset that he said this but it was true, shifting to hide in Wade's chest as now it was his turn to be taken care of, praised And told how much he appreciates and loves him.

After getting some snacks, Logan forcing him to take pain medication, Puppins hopping up on the bed, and Althea throwing a fit as to why the floor in the living room was so slippery, followed by Logan cleaning it up, Wade was happy.

Very happy actually, finally getting to eat the sub that Logan brought home, petting Puppins, and snuggling his big sensitive wolvie, who was clinging to him as if Lady Death herself would come take him away. But don't worry, Peanut. He was banned from ever being with her anyway. She never could see him longer than a couple of minutes.

“And that's a good thing for you isn't it, kitten?”

“What?”

“Oh- nevermind....… Hey Logan..?”

He could feel the man swallow as he glanced up to him. “.. yeah?”

“You're the best kitty I could have asked for…. And her name is Doc McStuffins you uncultured swine.”

The man scoffs, smiling ridiculously large, hiding his face in his collarbone. “I hate you.” He teases, Slapping Wade's hand for itching his bandages.

“Hey! Ow!”

“Stop scratching.”

“Oh, that's it. You're bad again.”

“Aw man..”

[profoundwebhead]

here’s a nice little bit of angst for umbrella academy fans:

what if, in the seven years they were together… Lila gave Five a pet name as a term of endearment. Maybe she wasn’t in love with him but she felt something… and felt wrong for using Five to refer to him? like that was his ‘assassin name’

that’s the name he had when he killed her parents… but she doesn’t see him as that person anymore?

so she gives him a pet name and uses it throughout those seven years. something soft and sweet like “my love”. ofc, she still calls him five from time to time, like when she’s worried or scared (after five finds the journal and she calls out for him) but she wants him to forget that part of him too.

that’s not who he is anymore… that’s who she doesn’t want him to see himself as anymore.

and then the department store scene.

“i wanna fucking kill him!”

and he WANTS to kill his brother. The world is ending and they are all gonna die but he wants to be the one who ends Diego’s life.

but then.

“It’s over, FIVE!”

and he has to kind of double take because it’s been basically seven years since she’s called him that.

the name burns through his mind and he sees Reggie, The Handler… He sees the things he did. The people he killed.

fivefivefivefivefivefivefivefivefiveshecalledmefivewhydidshecallmefive

and he blinks away.

he’s a killer. he killed her parents. no they’re alive. this version of them are. i still did those things. SHE made me do those things. i still did them. i liked them.

…Five.

and his thoughts only get worse when he finds that fucking deli and there he is. He’s confronted with the worst thing in existence and it’s not the cleanse, or another apocalypse or the Handler or his dad… it’s himself.

and Lila was right.

It’s over… Five.

[ochrearia]

Small Shenanigans

Iiiiii don't have a better title for this but I don't careeee. This is yet another followup to the last one I can't believe I'm doing chronological parts right after each other instead of just random situations days or weeks apart. Crazy!

Also yeah. Left Beefer, Blue, and Cyber out. I'm sorry I cannot handle all these BFs at once it's so hard on my brain to keep track disjrjsifjg AAAA GUILT ITS FINE

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Yourself (YS)

“Someone tell this absolute moron to remember to relax his muscles, because I’m all the way over here and I can still see that he’s so tense that he might collapse into himself and make a black hole.”

“I woke up, maybe five minutes ago? And you’ve decided to be the biggest problem in my life. What did I ever do to you, Bee?” YS grumbled in response, suddenly self-conscious of how he’d already been tensing all his muscles up.

“Dude, you’re stressing out 24/7. That’s bad.” Beef pointed out, the most obvious statement of the century. “Ever heard of this thing called self-care?”

“And before you joke about ‘yes I have, I’ve been taking care of you guys’ that does NOT count.” Boyf added quickly.

YS closed his mouth, glowering at him for taking the words out of his mouth. Now he couldn’t deflect.

“Could do it for him.” Peacock suggested. “We’ve got him all warm and cozy already. More care for the big guy!”

Fuck all of these assholes. YS groaned, pulling his hoodie strings so far out that the hood closed around his entire face, only showing his nose. One of the first things he’d been allowed to do was put the hoodie back on properly when he woke up. It had apparently been a few hours at least since Biff found him, and now there was mostly everyone just hanging around for the sake of it.

Blue had been busy, as well as Beefer. Well, more like Beefer couldn’t get away from his world without a really suspicious excuse. Blue had insisted the rest who could come to give YS lots of love on his behalf, which was sweet.

Cyber wasn’t fully comfortable with anyone but YS yet. He wasn’t even actually in the main group chat either, because YS knew he could not trust the rest of these morons to be appropriate all the time with a 14-year-old version of themselves in there.

“I am fine.” YS insisted rather weakly. “Tense muscles are nothing, there are infinitely worse things that I could be dealing with right now.”

“We have to convince you to eat sometimes, YS, so sorry to say that we’re not believing that shit for a second.” Biff grinned, knowing that would only make him complain more.

God, dammit, I can’t with this. YS grumbled more, facing his worst enemy- his own head. Sentiment gets caught too easily in his mind, just the fact that they were here for him, talking about how to take care of him, something about that made him feel ridiculously small. Something about that also caused a slight flush to his cheeks, thankfully hidden by the hoodie.

The bastard known as his shapeshifting, however, was not hidden by the piece of clothing.

“Aaaah, he’s shrinking again!” Peacock teased gleefully. “Oh please, please get small enough so I can pick you up like a stuffed animal, just one time.”

“Shut the fuck up!” YS all but shrieked, embarrassment growing worse by the second. “Stop that! You’re doing it on purpose, stop using my power against me!”

“But you’re so fun-sized!” Bee grinned, ignoring his pleas and going further.

“Nah, it’s kind of really hilarious to be able to call you short.”

YS shrunk more against his will, whining while he covered his already hidden face with his hands. “Hate you. Hate all of you. Terrible, bastardly little brothers. I will kick you out of my apartment.”

“I don’t think you can kick any of us out of here with how small you’re at right now.” Beef grinned with a shrug. “I mean, look, you’re small now, might as well go with it. Let us help you, idiot.”

“At least let me give you a shoulder massage.” Biff insisted. “Beef said something about you not liking people touching your upper back so I’ll avoid it. You’re probably tense as fuck everywhere but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh, fine. If that means you idiots will stop talking about taking care of me, in front of me.”

“Nothing wrong with hearing how much people love you, moron. You have to stop thinking you’re exempt from such things.” Boyf thought with a stern look.

That word again. He’d been so averse to that word at the start. Didn't like hearing it in relation to himself because he didn’t want to believe it. Insisting that it didn’t apply to him, because why would it? And it was getting hard for him to continue thinking that when in his right mind. Dammit, they were changing him in ways that he hadn’t expected.

And he hated to admit it, but the shoulder massage was fucking melting him.

“‘I’m fine’ my ass.” Bee teased. “It’s so fun to see you be the complete opposite of what you tried to make us believe at the beginning. Mr. tough guy, talking about how cool and mysterious he is, acting like a complete fucking force of nature. Fast forward and here you are, small as fuck, flustered over the idea of people wanting to take care of you, and then also melting faster than butter at the first moment of loving attention.”

“I am going to- I’m going to block my mirror with a blanket. Because you fuckers keep waltzing in whenever you want and making my life hell.” YS hissed. “Banned from the big brother world because you can’t be trusted to behave.”

“Behave? We’re behaving.” Biff snickered. “You want to see us actually misbehave? There’s a very easy way for me and Beef to team up to do that right in front of everyone!”

“Shut. Up.” Venom wasn’t a common factor in YS’s tone, but it slipped in every once and a while. This wasn’t actually potent venom though.

“Geez, alright, no need to be sensitive about it.”

Alright, you know what, if they were going to treat him like a toddler then he was going to act like a toddler. It wasn’t like he could get any smaller at this point, they’d teased him to the limit. Might as well just give up!

YS whined indignantly, deciding that the continued shoulder massage was no longer worth it and wiggled his way out of Biff’s grip. He gained slight triumph hearing his offended gasp, turning around and sticking his tongue out at him. Well, now he was on the floor and his line of sight didn’t even reach past some of their torsos.

“He moved! Fair game!” Peacock hollered, swooping in and lifting YS off the ground by the waist. He had a habit of picking him up.

“Watch it! Watch where you put your hands!” YS shouted, smacking the hand a little too close to his stomach. “Fucking hell! Would it kill you to warn me before you keep doing that?!”

“Think I’m starting to figure out this fabled YS secret that Biff and Beef refuse to give up…” Boyf thought aloud, but it went unnoticed compared to the air chaos.

“Put him on your shoulders! That way he can pretend he’s at normal height and act like he isn’t an adorable softie.” Beef suggested.

“My big brother teddy bear abandoned me for another me. This is crazy.” Biff deadpanned, but his voice was still playful.

“What do you think about that idea, big guy?” Peacock held YS up in front of him like he was holding a pet cat. “Ah, wait, I can’t call you that right now. Are you good with that little guy?”

Mortified. Something stirred in YS’s head at being called ‘little’. Huh. He was always the big brother, being tall and towering over some of them. Why did being the small one and being acknowledged as such make him want to melt? Seriously? He’s not a little brother.

Maybe it was just the idea of not having to be the ‘oldest’ keeping everything together. To be able to be the idiot, not the first line of defense.

“...Yeah.” YS mumbled, head full of fuzziness. “I wanna be up there.”

Such a silly concept. Getting a piggyback ride, again, from Peacock. Despite how big he usually was, despite how tough and serious he’d tried to come across as. Reminded him of a nickname he’d been given a while ago… something rather silly.

“I think you killed his brain.” Bee cackled from his spot near the wall mirror. “Can he get too embarrassed? Should we pull it back?”

“Never tried that hard, to be honest.” Biff shrugged. “I am but one man. Only so much I can say on my own to push him over the edge. I don’t think he can handle all of us getting on his ass at the same time.”

“Aw man, don’t make me feel bad. I was just teasing. We didn’t actually make you uncomfortable, did we?” Boyf worried.

YS shook his head for a moment before resting his chin on top of Peacock’s hat. “No, I’ll live. Thinking about stuff. Might still be a little messed up from my bad night. Still tired but when am I not, honestly…” He was rambling.

“We’re all here for you, remember that.”

“Do you feel any better by being up there?” Peacock asked lightly. “Boyf is still kinda taller than me, so I can’t guarantee the best view. Is this close enough to your normal?”

“I promise that you don’t have to worry about simulating my normal height, I live like that everyday. I haven’t lost it. I’m simply not like that right now.” YS rolled his eyes.

“Well… now what? You’ve got your throne atop Peacock’s shoulders, what say King Brother?” Bee teased, trying to play around some more.

“King Brother? Don’t inflate his ego even more than it needs to be…” Beef jokes.

This apartment was where he spent almost all of his time, really. Only having energy for small amounts of actually doing things. Getting food, supplies, anything that was necessary were things YS could kick his ass enough to do before he ran out of essentials. But in terms of anything else, he didn’t really get out a lot, and he didn’t count going to other worlds. Most of the time going to those other worlds entailed another apartment that he didn’t even walk out the door from.

The sun had been up for a while now. He didn’t make a habit of opening his window shade much, the light in his room was a pale yellow from the old lightbulb. God, he used to be so active. He used to go out a lot more, enjoying the air and sky, being a person in the outside world. He used to be content to go out alone. Nowadays he could barely stomach the idea, knowing that weirded out looks would be shot his way for how he appeared. He didn’t like going out alone.

But he wasn’t alone here. Five of his brothers were hanging around, seemingly not willing to leave any time soon. Perhaps he could take advantage of that, to take a step that he probably needed?

“Let’s get out of here.” YS said finally. They looked at him like he’d just said the world was ending- actual shock. “What? Stop looking at me like that. I can’t enjoy my piggyback ride if Peacock doesn’t have an open space to parade around. I can guide us back to my apartment if we get lost.”

“YS? Playing into being ridiculous? What fucking year are we in?” Biff was teasing, but the excitement shining in his eyes gave him away.

“All of us?” Beef questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“If you want to be a boring loser and stay here that’s your choice. Ah, but you don’t let anyone challenge you like that and get away with it, now do you?” Peacock was egging him on on purpose.

“Running around like maniacs with the chance to explore the slight differences of YS’s world? Hell yeah, sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon.” Boyf hopped up, ready to go.

“Try not to run off so fast that the smaller of us can’t keep up. Then we’ll really be lost. Unless you’re gonna do it on purpose, then I have a few choice words.” Bee snarked, getting up from his place too.

“Fuck it, let’s go!” Came Biff’s deciding call.

It was a warm day. Clouds every once and awhile, but the sky still a bright and vibrant blue. The sun was doing its best to dodge the clouds, shining on the rambunctious group as they pranced and paraded down street sidewalks, guided by wherever YS decided to point them. They got stares, sure, but it was okay. He wasn’t alone this time.

Ah. There was nothing in his chest but happiness here.

How silly.

[princessamericachavez]

It absolutely destroys me that the “sirens” trying to lure Buck into staying in his dream world were people needing him yet again. It was the promise that maybe if he stayed he could save the people of this reality too.

“I met your sister, she’s kinda awesome. Can you introduce me?” Because maybe that way he saves Maddie and makes Chim and her happy. “Can you help me find my dad?” What if Buck stayed and made contact with “angry guy” Eddie and offered help to get his son back? His parents literally begging for him to stay here, where they didn’t screw up, where they get the chance to do this the right way…

And Buck is the guy who fixes things. He wants to, oh so bad, even knowing these versions of them are but a figment of his imagination. Because even in his dreams he loves them so deeply, even Daniel who he’s barely met and has been a stand in for his worse self talk, even like that Buck loves him.

“I have a family. They aren’t this one, but they are real and they need me,” Buck says, as he pushes past Daniel. But once the time comes, once the choice is there, Buck’s worst fears come rushing back in. “No one there needs you.” And so, the sirens show their teeth: stay here, where everything is broken, so you can fix it again. So you can keep fixing, keep giving, keep bleeding yourself dry until you quite literally die by slowly fading away, until you stop breathing, all because you couldn’t stop wanting to be needed.

And then Buck, bless him and all his growth, makes the choice: I’m not going back for them. I’m doing it for me.

Buck loves so hard and so much that he nearly died chasing that feeling of being wanted because he is needed. But finally, finally, he understood that he is wanted just because. Just for who he is, and not what he can give to or do for others. And so it came the time and he chose himself.

[angelof-thevoid]

The Crucible / Undefeated

“Is it… True? what Lord Shaxx said?” asks one of a fire team of guardians who approach Ikora as she reads. She smiles and lets out a short chuckle before looking up at them. “Depends on what he said. In most cases he enjoys flourishing a story, but there’s always some amount of truth to them.” The guardians nod and shuffle a little nervously before her.

Another speaks up, “So… Do you really hold the crucible record for the longest win streak and are the reason that his helmet is missing a horn?” Their expressions display a mix of awe and fear of her. Ah. New lights for sure. These are old stories about her that have been retold several times, but Ikora had to admit she still reflects on them a little fondly. Even Shaxx still finds the loss of his horn amusing and even gushes about what a mighty battle Ikora gave him. 

“Yes, it’s true.” She sets down the book she was flipping through for personal research and turns to fully face them with her arms crossed behind her. The group lean in, minds open to hearing her version of the stories. 

“In the dark age, it was a very different time compared to now, a time before we were guardians who strove for peace and protecting humanity. Some still had those goals back then, though maybe not always accomplished by the best methods. Others cared more about personal power and chose to be rulers of humanity, calling themselves warlords. They would force those under them to hand over precious limited resources, often at the cost of themselves and under threats of death.”

“Even worse, there were times they were used as meat shields when conflicts arose between immortal risen, most often over territory. It was… A dark time.” As if we haven’t had several since, Ikora comments to herself. “Sometimes we aren’t our best selves during them, and that includes Lord Shaxx. He wasn’t the worst, arguably he was doing what he thought was best for those he deemed his charge.” 

“But still, that power structure wasn’t good, and Lord Shaxx proved himself to be quite formidable in maintaining his lands. Until I came along.” Ikora smiles and winks at the three guardians as they give her their undivided attention. She may not have the same flair for dramatic retellings but it’s nice to know that she could still get others to listen. 

“In those days, I wasn’t a warlord but I wouldn’t say I was my best self either, but I like to think I was at least on the path. I was also quicker to resort to my light and weaponry in those days to handle things instead of talking. So when word about an apparently “undefeated” warlord reached me, I heard a challenge.”

“And a challenge it was, we made a real mess of the area we fought in. Trading bullet for bullet, light for light, one rez after the other. It was…” She trails off a moment. “Exhilarating. A battle with someone who was even in power makes victory all the more satisfying, and I definitely reveled in it afterward. I took the land as promised and freed it to humanity.” 

“Whoaaaaa,” the third guardian responded. “Okay, but then what about the crucible record story?” “Yeah, tell us about that next!” pipes up the first again. Ikora finds herself quickly endeared to the enthusiasm of this bunch as she softly laughs. “Now that is a more recent occurrence. As I’m sure Lord Shaxx informed you, the crucible is about forging guardians into better fighters by pitting ourselves against each other, to sharpen ourselves into being the best at combat to face any future foe.”

“So as I told you before, I was often eager to rise to a challenge. Only this was at least cooperatively sanctioned violence instead of a sloppy skirmish over land or a tense encounter that resulted in a permanent death.” She stops for a moment. “At least, usually it’s for sport to strengthen our skills. Some have tried to use it for other means.”

“I participated in the crucible very extensively for a time in my long life. Every day I went in with the goal to be better than I was the previous, and I did excel! Through that hard work I earned a reputation of being one of the best with a 25 win streak.” Ikora moves one of her hands in front and balls it into a fist before slowly releasing, ”But the glory of the crucible still left me wanting.”

She moves her arm behind her back once more joining with the other. “After all, what good is organized arena combat when not every battle is a show of physical prowess? What about the fights that aren’t met through bullets or paracausality or fists?” The silence hangs for a moment as Ikora patiently looks at the three of them like she expects an answer. 

“It’s, also important to have mental fortitude and be strategic in mind?” Answers the warlock of the group. Ikora grins proudly at them. “Correct. It’s not enough to be physically capable, but mentally and strategically as well. Which is why it’s also important to know and learn as well as train to fight. Neither is enough on their own, they are both parts to the whole of being a guardian.”

The warlock beamed at getting the answer correct as she continued. “It’s also good to not know and fight your enemy but be able to know and fight yourself. There will be times you struggle, physically, mentally, emotionally- and it’s important to take care of yourself too. The things we deal with and go through can be a heavy burden, which is why it matters to be able to rely on your fire team, and be reliable in return.”

Ikora crosses her arms in a relaxed manner over her chest, raising one finger. “So remember, it’s not just important to be physically strong and to use your light. You must also be strong of mind and to maintain both by taking care of yourselves, and each other.” The three nod to each other and in acknowledgement of Ikora's words, taking them to heart.

"Good." She smiles again. "Walk steady in the light, guardians."

[silverislander]

day 12: ekko

there's a lot that goes into building a community: houses need building, machines need fixing and people need to eat, just to start. things are going well, really well, but every day will always bring a burst pipe or a fever making its way through the daycare, and there will have to be someone to do some diy plumbing or make a medicine run up to topside; that's just the way it is.

luckily, that person is ekko. he prides himself on it, does his best every day, throws himself into learning whatever has to be learned whether it's finding parts for a new hoverboard or babysitting someone's kid, and yeah, it's tiring, it's hard. the work seems to multiply by the day.

it's not like there's anyone else looking out for zaun, though. someone always needs him, so he's always there.

today, though, something isn't right. he wakes up, and he's kind of expecting to feel like shit considering the all-nighter he pulled to work on his latest prototype, but he really feels like shit. he's shivering in the warm air, and his nose is running, to boot.

it takes a second for him to remember the daycare fever last week, how he'd been there to help calm the kids down when they were getting their medication, and when he curses to himself, it hurts to speak.

it wouldn't have been such a big deal- ekko's toughed out worse colds before- but he had shit to do today. he'd promised tez a new pair of glasses, and he wanted to kick himself for leaving the guy to another day of an already year-long headache thanks to his cracked goggles. hell, he was supposed to go up and meet vi for lunch, and if he doesn't show up she's going to worry, and when she worries, whatever part of her brain that had been in charge when they were kids turns on and she goes all bossy older sister on him for weeks after.

there is something left that he can do today, though, and that's work on the new rebreathers for nina and her kids. he manages to drag himself out of bed and heads out for breakfast.

miri's behind the counter, and she squints at him a little as he's grabbing his oatmeal.

"you're not sick, are you? lennie was telling me everyone who was there last week's coming down with something."

"i'm good," he lies. "don't worry. tell lennie the rest of the medicine's with tash- her kids are still getting over it."

he winds up having to leave the mess hall, all the lights and the people giving him a headache on top of everything else. maybe it's for the better: now, he'll get an earlier start on the breathers.

on the way back up to his lab, he runs into miller and asks them to send a message up topside- let vi know he's gonna have to leave her hanging today. they're a good kid, a little too nervous to prove themself, but ekko remembers what that's like; they salute (he keeps trying to tell them not to, but it's clearly not sticking) and run off. ekko keeps heading up.

the bridges are rough, though. when the kids had it last week, the cough had come after the fever, but ekko feels like he's getting hit with it all at once. he finds himself taking a seat on the side for a second, looking down into the firelight tree.

even when he's at his worst, he'll always be proud of this, what they've all made together and the part he's played in it. there are people living here who had been struggling with third-rate prosthetics, and now they had versions they could fix themselves on the rare occasion they ever broke. there are families living together away from the mines, away from shimmer, away from death. there are there are children here who were born in the branches whose skin has no scars at all.

yeah, it's hard work, but he wants to do it all. it's worth it. after all, nobody else is looking out for-

"what are you doing out here?"

ekko turns, still a little lost in his head. an old woman is marching towards him- moved in last week, what was her name? rosie, rosalynd, rosa?

"just taking a break. what do you need?"

"need you to take a damn break," she snorts, then holds out her hand.

when he doesn't take it, she shakes it insistently. "come on. up you get. i have it on good authority we're having soup for lunch, too, and that'll do you some good, shivering like that."

"i'm okay, thanks-"

"you're sick."

"it's not that bad."

"oh, it isn't? then why'd you have my granddaughter on bedrest for the last week when she caught it?"

he starts trying to explain himself, but she cuts him off, clicking her tongue. "come on up, ekko. take the day, we'll survive."

it's clear she won't be taking no for an answer.

the soup is delicious. rosalie- that was her name- gives him a blanket that he feels guilty for taking but that she refuses to let him leave without, then sends him along with strict instructions to rest. on his way back, tash stops him, carrying the twins in tow, and hands him a little glass vial of medication with a sympathetic smile. he thanks her and tries to head on again, but someone else's kid is running up to wave at him, so he-

"i'll deal with her," tash grins, and with no small amount of effort, bends down to talk to the little girl, who seems perfectly happy to talk to anyone at all. as he's walking on, she calls out, "get well soon!"

outside the door to his place, nina stops him to thank him for the respirators. ekko starts to say that he hadn't finished them yet, but someone clears their throat behind him first. he turns to face them and it's lennie standing there, looking like he's still in the thick of the fever and half-covered in engine grease, who gives him a thumbs-up and a wink- he never was the most subtle of the bunch. ekko presses his eyes closed, nods and tells tash she's very welcome.

he gets about an hour-long nap in before he hears his door creaking open. groggily, he sits up-

"sit back down, little man."

"vi?" he manages. sure enough, she's setting a paper bag down on his table.

"miller told me you were sick, so i wanted to check in." mentally, ekko makes a note to talk to miller about oversharing as well as the saluting thing. "i brought you some of the fancy cough syrup. thought it might help."

"can you bring it over to miri's first? her husband-"

"if you don't drink it, i'll make you drink it." it doesn't quite sound like a threat, though, the way she says it.

ekko just sighs and motions for the spoon. vi brings it over and sits on the edge of the bed while he takes it.

"tastes like shit," he manages. "no wonder the kids hate it." vi laughs.

"you're going to rest up, right?" she asks, but it doesn't sound like a question.

ekko grimaces. "i wanted to get some stuff done today, though."

"it's going to have to wait, then. you're sick."

"but what if it can't?" he bursts out. "if people would let me get up, i could- i could do something, at least. i hate sitting here like there's nothing to do when i know there's something i could help with."

when he looks up to vi again, he can't quite read the look on her face, but he knows she's concerned.

"ekko, it's going to be okay. what they need is for you to get better." she takes his hand, squeezing it gently just like she did to comfort him when he got hurt as a kid. "you built all this, and now- now you've got to trust that it can hold. rest up, okay?"

he wants to argue, wants to get up and get started on something. he doesn't have the energy to do either.

after she leaves, he thinks back to the tree. all those people, all the innovations that they've made together. all the lives they've changed. it's been hard to build, but he can see it: all the load-bearing pieces, all the flashing lights and mechanisms that make the firelights work.

can ekko trust that it can hold under his weight?

he thinks, for a minute, of all the people who lean on him.

yeah. yeah, he can.