#BUT WHAT THE FUCK. I feel like sisyphus now

[crabussy]

IM GOING TO PUNCH A HOLE IN SOMEONES CAR

[cowchickenbeefpork]

the worst part about being in a fandom where everyone maladaptive daydreaming about what if it was good is people will jump on you for your analysis and you can’t even refute them that well because you both pulled your analysis and view of these characters from a contradicting shithole pile. You just both made it up

[waywardsalt]

>:3

[youraveragemushroom]

♡♡♡♡

[codenamethebird]

I'm loving all the discussion about Melinoe's anti-human prejudice, but I don't see anyone discussing my favorite, so u get more of my rambling. I also got these screenshots from YouTube so you get sketchy Hades, but I actually only just got this dialogue in this patch haha (I forgot to screenshot it myself).

I'm obsessed with this bit of dialogue because it houses some beautiful Hades character development. One of his big flaws that caused like 75% of the problems in Hades 1 was his eternal punishments. Orpheus and Eurydice, forced to be apart. Achilles and Patroclus, also forced to be apart because of Hades contracts. And in this case Sisyphus, being doomed to always push up the rock.

Hades was convinced that they deserved their punishments, that they could not change, so they should never be free. Zag had to go through a bunch of hoops to change their fates, and Hades just grumbled through it all. But people can change, Sisyphus is a prime example of that. The way Hades' voice actor says that last bit "He forgave me anyway" just murdered me.

What an emotionally pogninent moment from a man who has realized his mistakes, but it's too late (to him at least), and now all he can do it stand in chains, in a prison he made, drowning in his regrets.

And then this is how Mel responds:

I just, omfg Mels nooooo babe, your Dad has just had some brilliant character development, what are so saying.

She is so dismissive. She totally missed the point of what he was trying to say. There's like no thought that went through her head, just "fuck that dumb mortal, don't feel guilty dad." Mel doesn't even try to even slightly engage with it, the moment he mentions a mortal, it becomes unimportant.

Hades, while blatantly disagreeing with her, doesn't exactly reply to her dismissal of Sisyphus. Which makes sense I doubt he wants to really argue with her and the context of these chats he is trying to get her to leave quickly considering their location.

But he does name Sisyphus here and reinforce the fact that he was a king. Which I note because Mel just called him "some dead mortal". And he appeals to a much more emotional thread with the whole thing with Bouldy, something Mel would understand a bit easier.

And Mel does call him a king in response, which while not his name, is more personable than "some dead mortal". But ultimately, she respects him because he was kind to her dad, not because she remotely comprehends the emotions and regrets that Hades is feeling with this character development.

And considering what else we know about her, I think it's very safe to say she still thinks Hades shouldn't feel guilty about anything. That this mortal is ultimately unimportant and deserving of his punishment.

But yeah tldr, i find it endlessly hilarous how Hades has this lovely moment of self reflection and then Mels immediately dismisses it with a simple "fuck that mortal".

[dyk3tastic]

friends

victoria neuman (the boys) x reader

genre: angst, light smut, hurt/comfort(ish)?

summary: when victoria shows up unannounced at your apartment in the dead of night you want nothing more than to kick her to the curb, you let her in anyway. reader is a member of the boys, could be read as a follow up to my previous fic “cant have both” or as a stand alone. (now wiv a follow up u can read here)

warnings: weapons, language, slightly nsfw, light smut, mentions of sex

a/n: back with another one. getting back into posting ff, haven’t written for an ‘audience’ in a while, feedback is appreciated. enjoy! :)

“wow, you really gonna treat a friend like that?” victoria drawled, foot blocking your front door, stopping you locking her out. wide grin flashing her perfect white teeth. the last thing you wanted at 4am was to shuffle bleary eyed through your shitty apartment, glock firm in your grip by your side, to answer that incessant hammering against your door. when you open the door to see her standing you want nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, dreading wallowing in the limbo between you both. the space between hate and longing, betrayal and understanding, where all interactions between you two now seemed to take place. you were tired.

staring up at you under her thick dark lashes, you knew you couldn’t get rid of her even if you wanted to. “we’re not friends” you croak out, voice rough with exhaustion. she just laughs at you, continuing to blink up at you like a fawn, flashing her predatory smile. “what are you doing here vic?” you hiss frustrated by her brazenness and lack of explanation.

“can i come inside? i want to talk to you”, she lets her smile drop. “please”.

you say nothing to each-other as you turn to let her in, she slides past you, eyes dragging down your body, heat prickles your ears as she clocks your batman underwear. she strides in, confident and assured as ever, walking towards the kitchen as if she were coming home from work, like she owns the place. just as you’re starting to become hyperaware of your lack of clothing she speaks again, voice gentle and relaxed over the quiet hum of the tv, “i knew you wouldn’t be asleep yet”.

“is that what you’ve come here to do, pretend to know me so well, tell me about my fucking sleeping patterns?” you mutter, irritated. resting against your kitchen counter you stood opposite her, taller than her now that she had her heels off. the low orange glow of the kitchen light illuminated her bronzed skin. victoria looks up at you, all brown eyed and beautiful, and it makes you forget what she’s done, what you’ve done, just for a second.

“i want zoe out. i want her far away from all this bullshit. i want out. i need you to help me undo this, to just leave it all behind. please.”

hissing, voice scratchy in your throat you half sigh, “you just turn up here and expect me to trust you, expect me to risk my life for you, blinking up at me like bambi and expecting me to feel fucking sorry for you.” “i trusted you, believed in what we were doing, in us. i thought we were working towards something right, some fucking justice for once. to find out those years of my life were useless, sisyphus pushing that rock up that never fucking ending hill for vought. when i told you about-“ you stop abruptly, tired of rehashing the past, take a deep, shaky breath and collect yourself. “coming round here talking about friends” you scoff.

chest rising and falling with uncertainty she stares you down, face unflinching. mocking and faux innocent she asks “we weren’t friends?”. “i’d say when i’d ride your pretty face til it was covered in my cum that we were friends, at least i definitely considered you my friend.” her smile is sharp. “when you’d rut against my leg all desperate and pleading you didn’t think i was your friend?” she added with an exaggerated pout.

you recognised the deflection immediately, could see that all she wanted was to crawl under your skin and pull you back to her. but you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t effect you, the full truth of it all hanging in the air, your skin prickling with memory and mouth dry with the her boldness. “we’re not friends now” you say, proud of yourself for managing to keep your voice steady.

she steps forwards, encroaching in your space. “that’s okay, we don’t need to be friends”. she moves closer again, you don’t dare move, anxious not to scare her off, anxious to close the gap between you two. she breathes an “i’m sorry” into your neck, voice laced with what you so desperately want to believe to be sincerity. moving her head up, her nose bumps your cheek, plump lips pressing a soft kiss against your mouth. your arm moves of its own accord, snaking around her waist, urging her closer. her next kiss is less gentle, her mouth greedy and desperate against yours, chills run down your spine as you let out a quiet whimper. tongue swiping over her lower lip you let yourself get lost in her, in the kiss. transfixed by her touch heat pools deep in ur abdomen, your underwear growing sticky and uncomfortable.

the nights spent touching yourself, seething with anger as you imagined your fingers buried deep inside her, imagined pulling out those little pants and whimpers that made you want to never hear another sound again; those nights seething in your betrayal and wetness couldn’t compare to the electricity that ran through your body as her warm tongue licked lewdly into your mouth. nothing could compare to the feeling of her pressing her warm, petite but deadly body against yours. revelling in the feeling of her tits against your chest it was the bumping of her hip against the hard glock tucked in the thick waistband of your underwear that brought you out of your trance. both of you breathed heavy hot air against the others face, panting as you try to remember why you were here, to clear away you heady thoughts, to regain some semblance of control.

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[poppyrays]

A More Thought out Bug Gabriel with the swords on his back for now because I didn't wanna think about it, and King Minos in his before form and after form. Decided that when they go soul forms its more like some fucked up void related stuff where they can imitate their original body but uh horrific void effect. King Minos out here giving the best hugs though.

Idk what the prison will look like though. Minos' original body, the mask is actually just a false face. His eyes are to the sides but it makes people uncomfortable with his size and the fact that hes a predator and his fuckton of legs too.

King Minos is a Centipede and then Sisyphus will probably be a Rhino beetle of some sort.

Idk Gabriel in Uggs though, might go backish to the old design though I kinda liked how he looked like a ball. But also I feel like he’s be a proud standing tall back straight boy

[the-s1lly-corner]

This might seem oddly specific but😭🙏

Can I have bloody painter x reader where it’s the end of their first date and reader kisses him good night? Leaving him completely flabbergasted and flustered?

Kissing Bloody Painter after the first date

Sisyphus and his rock but it's me and the damn dishes god fucking DAMN

Notes: reader is GN, bloody painter is smitten for you but he hides it from you/tones it down, went the route of reader not yet knowing what he does in his spare time (cough cough doesnt realize hes the bloody painter), admin got creative today

CWs: mentions of him lightly stalking you before interacting with you but it's like, similar level of some in school learning their crushes schedule in order to fawn over them- better to tag than not tag though

The fact that the two of you are ok a date at all already has him internally vibrating, after a short time of being absolutely captured by your beauty he finally has a chance to see you up close- definitely has doodled and drawn you in the time leading up to you coming into contact

You both go out to some restuarant to grab dinner, very simple date

Does not like that hes maskless but you keep looking at him like hes the prettiest guy you've ever seen- it feels odd being looked at positively after the life hes been given.. and the life he now leads

And then you kiss him before parting for the night, you were walking down the sidewalk

Had he thought you would do something like this, he would have leaned into it and not let it affect him so much... but..

He stands there frozen on the sidewalk as you tell him goodnight and walk home

Snaps out of it as you turn out of sight... stuffs his feelings to the side, and follows you

Simply to make sure you get home safe

Oh this is going to be on his mind for the next few hours, and the pages in his sketchbook are going to be filled with scribbled out portraits

His mind is so clouded with you that he cant seem to make the sketches look right

[datharlequinoni]

So with Skarathyx updated to the same standards as Verocia (and some minor tweaks to Racasix) I finally have all 4 of my Vortixx mocs up to what I would consider acceptable standards. That is, until I decide to arbitrarily tinker with them some more in the future, because unfortunately for me, I never nail what I'm going for with a MOC the first time ever. There's always some kind of fault, some rushed execution, some better assembly or construction. I feel like Sisyphus sometimes, endlessly rolling the revamp boulder. After spending so much time on this project, hopefully I'll find the impetus to do a new design or character, as I've been noteworthy for adapting and re-adapting the same set of MOCs for the longest time now. It's rough because it's way easier to just, modify a pre-existing MOC than make an entirely new one, especially when I don't have any good ideas for one currently. Maybe I'll think of something later, who knows. I ordered a ton of hose faucet pieces so I'll be slowly incorporating those into the hands of my pre-existing and new designs going forward, as they work way better for a thumb joint than the pneumatic t bar does. Makes the hand look a bit less sloppy.

Obligatory "maybe-optional" arm cannon because why the fuck not. Adapted from the fore-arm mounted cannon she originally had. Probably gonna come up with a more Vortixx-y tool for her later down the line in the vein of Verocia's saw staff, we'll see.

[sodafrog13]

ok but. but the fucKin g light symbolism in ultk with gabe is fucking killing me rn

the fact that it's sisyphus's radiance and his alone that allows him to command his army. the fact that gabriel knows this from experience and can therefore use it as his downfall. the fact that he's knows as the brightest of all the angels and this is what makes the council send him to take down those who dare defy their rule, those who they fear so much they enclose them in tiny little boxes and hope, no, pray that they will not escape.

radiance as a weapon. radiance as something that can kill and ensnare and disfigure, mesmerizingly bright but which will burn you if you dare get too close (or, god forbid, it seeks you as a target).

and yet. it is his radiant personality that causes lowers angels to favor him over the council. the ferryman sees him as the light in their darkness, going so far as to create portraits and statues and a massive fucking hologram of him on their own ship made specifically to fare the souls of the damned because he had gone out of his way to save their life, something he absolutely did not have to do.

yes, radiance as something that can destroy. but also radiance as warmth. as something that can heal and comfort and give way for something more than just how things are "supposed" to be.

people portray gabe purely as some snot nosed brat who hisses and whines when things don't go his way. but what i feel like some people don't understand is that things are supposed to go his way. he is quite literally one of the smartest and most adept beings alive, and V1 is the only being, inanimacy be damned, he's ever encountered who he could even begin to consider an equal.

there is so so much more to him when you scratch away at that outer layer of holy plating. because yes, he is ruthless, and yes, he is a short-tempered little fuck who monologues and plays angry organ solos. but he is kind. and gives people something else to believe in when they've been abandoned. and now he is willing to die now that he finally knows that everything he's been fed is a lie but he's doing it on his own accord, not at the orders of a long dead god or the so called "angels" who declared themselves His predecessors.

for the first time in his life, gabriel is free. he is alive. and even in his final hours, he is just as radiant as ever.

[mischievous-piltovan]

Of Atlas and Sisyphus (NSFW)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader Themes: Romance, Fluff, NSFW, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn. Word Count: Roughly 8000 words Synopsis: You're a tech-savvy Spider that landed a position in Miguel's lab by tinkering with your gizmo. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep a fondness for the man for taking hold, so you've been trying your best to manage your crush with the tools at hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel has been dealing with a very similar problem.

An accident during a mission led both of you to face these feelings.

Or

Two headstrong and emotionally constipated idiots can't communicate their feelings despite being over 30. 

Trigger Warnings/TWs: blood, wound, piercing damage, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, miscommunication, emotionally constipated idiots, a bit of power imbalance because boss x underling (but ever so slightly), masturbation.

A/N: this started a silly NSFW one-shot but then I needed some yearning to make the sex part feel powerful and now we're here. Oops. Also I was VERY dramatic in my writing, pardon my self-indulgence.

A/N²: Reader's special Spider powers are linked to fire. She uses highly flammable webbing that conducts flames to burn her enemies (without killing them). The source of fire are her palms - they naturally conduct heat. So it's like: she shoots her web from the underside of her wrists and grips the ropes to light them on fire once they latch on an enemy. Anyways, just to clarify. Huge thank you to my lovely beta-readers @uniquedeerwitch @tantei14 and @zaunitearchives for lurking_kitty every single entry on the Discord Server. Part 1 | Part 2 (soon)

「Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the hill everyday so he could become worthy of sharing the weight of the sky with Atlas. Atlas carried the firmament on his shoulders to protect Sisyphus from the monster his plight kept caged - himself.」

"I expected more from you," Miguel said, looking down at you from his lab's platform. His arms crossed over his chest in a commanding instance.

"Miguel, I caught the Anomaly." You protested, annoyance seeping through your words.

"But you almost didn't," he retorted "Had Lyla not warned you, the Anomaly would have escaped your feeble attempt at securing it. You were careless."

"I had everything under control" you rebuked through gritted teeth. 

"That wound you sustained begs to differ" Miguel responded, cocking an eyebrow at you. You looked away with an exhale, one hand coming up instinctively to cover the bloodied tear at the side of your suit, right below your rib cage. Had it not been for your accelerated healing factor, the gash the Anomaly left on you would still be very much open and bleeding. At your lack of response, Miguel turned back to his console. "I will accompany you on your next few missions to make sure it doesn't repeat itself."

"Oh the fuck you will," you snapped back at him "It was one mistake, O'Hara! I don't need chaperoning!"

"Until you prove to me you don't, you will have it" He simply responded, his focus on the many screens in front of him. You opened your mouth to protest but gave up before any words came out, there was no point in trying to argue with Miguel. With a loud exhale, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the dark chamber.

As soon as your steps could no longer be heard, Lyla popped up next to Miguel.

"Miguel, I think this has been going on long enough" She stated, looking at where you disappeared.

"Nothing's been going on" He retorted without missing a beat, his eyes still glued to the monitors in front of him.

"Your bio readings say otherwise," She jabbed, bringing up a second screen next to the one Miguel was working on. He looked at it from the corner of his eyes and didn't take much to notice what Lyla was referring to - his heart-rate, oxytocin and cortisol levels were all higher than his usual. He sighed, closing his eyes. At that reaction, she concluded, "It's been like that for a while, but it gets worse whenever you interact with her."

Miguel took a deep breath before responding "It's complicated."

"Lashing out on her won't solve anything" Lyla's words stung. They cemented the guilt he started feeling as soon as you turned around and left. He lost control yet again, a dreadful habit that has been putting down roots whenever you were involved.

"I know," was all he could muster. He could try to explain why he did it, how watching you get hurt stirred the beast inside of him, how he had to fight to keep it chained down yet again as it tried to claw its way out, how the amount of effort to do so has been increasing as its constant struggles had been wearing down its shackles, how on top of that he had to act as your leader, how this whole circus left him with little to no mental capacity to anything else, how his attitude was but an outcome rather than a thought out action. But in the end there was no justifying it, he was wrong.

"You care a lot about her, don't you," Lyla spoke in a softer tone. Miguel took a long breath before responding.

"You could say that."

Miguel had been torn about you for quite a while now. He considered himself intelligent, especially when it came to Genetics and Bio-engineering, but he would be lying if he said he could fully understand his own feelings sometimes. Let alone be aware of them, Lyla was the one who figured it out for him when she noticed a pattern in his biological readings whenever he came into contact with you.

At first he denied it even to himself, rationalizing the good feelings he had towards you as being a matter of fact. You were exceptionally capable, had a formidable intellect and could perform your missions with ease (seconded only by Jess and himself), he felt he could count on you and that in itself was a novelty to him. Sure, you were very easy on the eyes too but he had felt attracted to other Spiders in the Society before, it wouldn't be a first.

But then all thoughts start circling back to you, despite not necessarily having anything to do with you in the first place. Like how he'd wonder what kind of food you preferred whenever he sat down to eat or what season you liked more when he noticed the air getting crisper. He'd start noticing smaller things about you, charming details that encapsulated who you were at your best, like the melodic cadence in your voice whenever you were close to finishing a project at the lab or how small your hands were compared to his. 

The last straw came one day on a particular slow morning at HQ, when he went to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and an empanada. He heard the sound of your laughter all the way across the room and the sight that greeted him upon turning towards you was like a punch to the gut: you casually talking to a male Spider while he rested a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly there was anger, dread and a sense of possessiveness overcoming him all at once.

And then there was the 'oh'.

That was the push the metaphorical askew tower he had been piling his conceptions of you needed to finally click into place, every piece neatly connecting together at the same axis - his undeniable infatuation with you.

That's when everything started tumbling down - he didn't know how to navigate these murky waters. He foolishly let it grow unattended, unpruned and now it grew to the point it consumed him. Your presence used to soothe him, now it drove him insane - as if the slow burn of a growing fondness he didn't know he nursed through months blasted him all at once, engulfing him in an overwhelming inferno shaped like you. 

His desire was the very next thing that assaulted him, overwhelming his thoughts. He didn't know if it was because of his spliced genes or because he had a tendency to neglect his more primal needs in the face of work, or if it was a combination of both. The matter of fact was - his body screamed for you and he couldn't just ignore it. Your presence at the lab was enough to send him into a spiral in need of release, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. Even just trying to concentrate on his work was futile, your scent plagued him and for the first time in a while he loathed his modified genes that heightened his senses. He lost count of the amount of times he fucked his hand in pursuit of some relief, but that reprieve wouldn't last long. Soon he was snatching whatever personal belongings you left in the lab to bring it to his nose while he tugged at his cock.

All of that because the very idea of offering this onslaught of feelings to you felt wrong. Not simply because of the obvious power imbalance your respective positions in the Society bestowed upon you, but because of who you both were. Despite technically being a Spider-Man thanks to (some) of his powers, he was anything but; Everyday he was faced with countless joyful rays of sunshine, glowing around HQ in the form of different variants of Spider-People, a stark contrast to everything he was. There was no hero in Miguel O'Hara, the fire that burned within him was not the cozy glow of a hearth, but the destructive power of infernal flames; everything about him was demonic, from his talons to his venomous fangs and blood-red eyes. He'd literally take shots to keep his DNA in check as to not lose what little humanity he had left.

He was corruption, ruination… And you didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that.

But the demon within him desired you, lusted for you, and Miguel gave everything he had to keep it sealed away inside of him. And of course this took its toll, to sustain this control Miguel had to completely change his approach towards you, distancing himself as much as he could while maintaining a somewhat professional facade. Yet, the demon would jump at every opportunity to seize control, and he'd often find himself gravitating towards you and the warm glow of the dynamic you cultivated in the lab, only to pull back as soon as he noticed his short-comings. 

Miguel yawned, rubbing his tired eyes as he felt the strain of overwork settling in. He grabbed his mug, taking the last sip of his already cold coffee as he checked the time - 3 in the morning. He groaned, there was still plenty to be done before he could even consider calling it a night. Dejected, he grabbed his empty thermal carafe and made his way to the cafeteria to fill it with more coffee. 

However, before he could reach the Lab door, his nostrils were assaulted with a very familiar fragrance - your scent. On pure impulse, Miguel turned on his heel and followed the aroma. Yes, your scent usually lingered a while after you called it a day, but this was different, it was stronger. Soon, he found out the reason why - you were still in the lab.

Resting your head on your crossed arms atop your work station, you slept peacefully as your body gently rose and fell to the rhythm of your breathing. Miguel noticed the project you were working on earlier that day unceremoniously shoved to the side with a myriad of tools in a messy array near it. You must have dozed-off in the middle of working on it.

He took the time to watch you, to commit the scene to memory. As creepy as he felt, there weren't a lot of opportunities he could indulge in just admiring you from afar without worrying about it setting-off your Spider-Senses. Right now in the calm hours preceding the break of dawn, he had you all to himself. 

You looked beautiful. 

His heart ached with yearning. Your scent in the air added to how serene you looked and his own exhaustion made him desire nothing more than to hold you, to nuzzle your neck and savor your musk as he carried you to the nearest bed only to have a decent night of sleep in each other's arms. To wake-up the next day greeted with your adorable disheveled self in pure domestic bliss. To kiss your puffy lips good morning as he caressed your face, and maybe letting wandering hands escalate it to something more… lecherous.

Miguel left the carafe on the nearest surface as he approached you. Would you like that? Would you give him the privilege of indulging in your most vulnerable state? Would you give yourself to him as he wished to give himself to you? Maybe the only thing keeping it from happening was a leap of faith…

He hovered his hand above your shoulder. Maybe he should do it, all it would take was waking you up and talking to you. Maybe just going straight to physical contact, grabbing your hands in his and pouring everything out in the open. Or taking the risk and kissing you while gently cradling your face. There was no one at HQ right now, even Lyla was busy taking care of surveillance for him, the moment was ripe with opportunity. 

But then you let out a little whimper in your sleep, disrupting the steady rhythm of your breathing and Miguel flinched. The shock was enough to snap him out of his daze and he quickly withdrew, harshly reprimanding himself. He had foolishly loosened the leash a bit and that was enough to stir the beast inside of him, as it growled ready to pounce. He had to get away from you.

Miguel rushed out of the lab as fast and stealthy as he could. Once he steadied himself, he sent Lyla to wake you up and send you home. He returned to the lab only after making sure you were gone.

He passed by your empty workstation briefly only to retrieve his carafe, and was greeted with a forgotten article of clothing - your scarf. He grabbed it on a whim and was overcome with an urge to keep it. He knew he shouldn't, but the scarf was intensely doused with your scent and the demon inside of him was agitated. He kept it against his best judgment, it was to keep the monster at bay, he justified. 

That night Miguel shamelessly defiled the scarf, keeping one side bunched up against his nose as he used the other extremity to furiously tug at his cock. 

He watched helplessly as his relationship with you crumbled, all his own doing for the sole purpose of protecting you from himself. The resentment came in the form of him being a dickhead and the target was more often than not you. Today's mission debriefing just accentuated this reality. He just hoped you would understand.

—-----------------

You didn't. 

1… 2… 3… 4…

You counted your reps as you hit the lowest point of your deep squats, inhaling through your nose as you descended, exhaling through your mouth as you ascended, the barbell heavy on your back. In your frustration, you decided to hit the gym area of the Strength and Conditioning Sector at the Society right after you left Miguel's lab to try channeling it into something productive.

You made sure to perform some first aid to your wound, wrapping your torso in bandages to protect it. You hoped that your self-administration of medical attention paired with your accelerated healing would suffice. Up until now, it was working just fine.

5… 6… 7… 8…

The Strength and Conditioning Sector was empty as it usually was at this time - early evening. It gave you the freedom to keep the lights as low as possible, so you could let the soothing image of Nueva York's skyline at night in through the tall glass panels. It helped you calm down.

Today it wasn't doing much to cool your jets though.

9… 10… 11… 12…

This was all so frustrating… He was so frustrating… After all you've done for the cause, after all you've done for him, this is your reward - being treated like you're faulty wiring, an unturning cog. Leave it to boy genius Miguel O'Hara to treat his team as mere assets instead of people.

The amount of effort you've been putting lately to not fuck up, to surgically cover all your bases has been gargantuan, of course you'd end up faltering. You should've known your energy would start running out at some point, but ignoring your body signals and underestimating the impact of prolonged periods of time neglecting your needs, all for the sake of efficiency and productivity had basically become second nature. Add that to the fact that Miguel has had his eyes trained on your every movement lately, it was a matter of time when you'd slip and he'd catch it.

All of that because you were far too stubborn to simply confront him as to why he started being an ass out of the blue.

13… 14… 15… 16… 

Not to mention how all this commitment was relayed towards a cause you didn't fully believe in - Miguel's Canon Event Theory. Of course you wanted to help people, - you were a Spider-Woman after all - and working towards assisting as many people as possible was definitely ideal, but the CET wasn't that. The amount of holes and questions unanswered bothered you, gaps that could very much disprove the Theory altogether.The fact that all Spider Society's collective effort was channeled towards it was troublesome at best.

You brought it up to Miguel after your first few months as a member of the Society, but he just shrugged it off. As time went by you began to understand - it wasn't a theory, but a hypothesis. A hypothesis born from the crippling guilt of a man who lost everything. An ill-rationalization of his misfortune that he used as a coping mechanism. 

And then you began to understand him. And that's where your problems started.

17… 18… 19… 20…

Miguel O'Hara - tall, handsome man, with an intellect to die for. Miguel O'Hara whose sharp cheekbones and dry sarcasm pierced you every time you interacted, even more than his fangs could. Miguel O'Hara who, under all that brooding persona had a sad, lonely individual who would surface briefly in the fleeting moments of stillness you two shared. Miguel O'Hara who had your heart between his talons and he didn't even know it.

It all started after your first day at HQ. As soon as you got back to your own dimension, you sat down at your desk with your shiny new watch and your handy tool box and began disassembling the portal device. You were mesmerized with Nueva York and the technology the year 2099 held and, as an Engineer, you were dying to get a better grasp at its intricacies. After you were happy with your tinkering, you reassembled it back together as if nothing ever happened, completely unaware that the device held a security system that had already sounded an alert back at HQ.

The next day you were promptly summoned to Miguel's Lab. After a good scolding that made you believe you'd certainly be kicked out, you were surprised to be offered a position as Miguel's assistant in his Lab. The prowess you showed in dealing with a technology so removed from your own reality proved him you were the person he was looking for - turns out having to deal with broken watches from the numerous of daily casualties every day was taking too much time and effort and he was in need of someone to handle this menial task for him. Golden chance to dive even deeper in this new technology, of course you accepted.

Big mistake.

The days passed and what started with an acknowledgement you definitely found him attractive, turned into a little crush. Your stupid lizard brain began craving his attention and you'd find yourself panicking a bit whenever you two interacted. 

That's when you decided you needed to nip this feeling to the bud.

You used your gathered knowledge of 2099's technology and the tools at your disposal to develop and build your own project - a device to automate the process of fixing watches. 

"It's simple: it assesses the type of damage in this scanner, sending the information to its own database, while also devising the best solution to each case" you said as you showcased the device to Miguel and Lyla "It then either remove and replace the damaged part OR discards the whole watch, amalgamating and recycling the materials to produce a new one entirely."

"Impressive!" Lyla responded. Miguel only hummed, his eyes slowly scanning the machine in front of him. You had hoped that by automating your job you'd no longer be needed in the Lab and thus would be able to distance yourself from Miguel and prevent any feelings from further blossoming. 

Turns out that the best employee is seldom rewarded with more work.

"I have some projects that are… stalled at the moment," Miguel said after a while "It would be very beneficial to have someone to bounce ideas off of some of them."

It would not be long before the silly infatuation grew into raw and unapologetic love, and you hated every second of it.

You hated how he made you feel like a teenager in love again, the very prospect of seeing him filling you with a mixture of elation and anxiety. How you could easily spot him in the crowd, proof that your subconscious was actively seeking him. Despised how your gaze would automatically land on his back whenever you got distracted from whatever you were working on at the lab  (and you would mentally slap yourself back to work once you realized it). Detested how the most innocent of touches, such as the accidental grazing of his hand on yours sent bolts of electricity through your whole body, making you yearn for more.

And you'd think there was some respite once you got to the safety of your home, away from the very source of your torment… Yet, it was in the stillness of familiarity that the risqué side of this infatuation took hold. Your mind wandered to him, wondering how it would feel to touch his bare skin, to trace every curve and crevice of his toned body massaging the stress of the day away. Would he enjoy it? Would he let out little sighs or loudly groan as you worked the knots away? Oh, how you'd like to help him relax, gently coaxing him to release all that pent-up tension in you.

Your hand would snake down the hem of your underwear almost on its own as the thoughts became more salacious. The whole ordeal only made facing him the next day even harder.

Miguel O'Hara had the power to turn you into the most pathetic version of yourself without moving a muscle. And for that he could never find out about any of this, the very thought utterly mortifying.

So you decided to pour all your feelings, all that love you harbored for him into the one thing you could do about it - assisting him. Becoming worthy of sharing the weight of the Multiverse he carried on his broad shoulders. You studied the multiverse in all its intricacies to the point of proposing viable solutions to eventual conundrums. You used your newfound knowledge of 2099's tech to hone your own equipment and even underwent an ongoing restricted training routine and diet in order to optimize your body for better performance during missions. All of that to help make his life easier, if only for a fraction.

But that alone couldn't shield you from the roller-coaster that was navigating the pull of your feelings against the pull of your rational mind. On a particularly difficult day, you reluctantly decided to ask Lyla to help you on a (non-ideal and very unhealthy) solution you had been marinating in the back of your head for a while.

"Lyla, do you have a minute?" You called out for the AI on your watch. Her little orange sprite appeared instantly.

"What 's up?" She asked cheerfully. You swallowed hard before speaking again.

"I need your help with something," you said in a whisper. Miguel wasn't around, but you decided to be extra careful all the same "But Miguel can't find out."

"I know he has granted you full access to all my features, but he can override the secrecy protocol if he so wishes," She responded "I cannot guarantee he will not know it."

"It's all right, It shouldn't pique his interest unless you bring it up to him," You said "Could you avoid that?"

"Sure thing." She agreed. 

"Very well… " You said, pausing to take a deep breath "I need you to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in my dimension."

"Oh" Lyla exclaimed before a knowing grin made its way into her features "Ooooh, I knew it! You have the hots for Miggy!"

"Shhh, keep it down!" You urged her "Yes, and he can't know that. I just need a way to channel this into something else… Into someone else."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just confess to him?" Lyla said matter-of-factually "We don't need to buy a new Miguel, honey. We have a Miguel at home."

"Don't be absurd," you answered, ignoring her joke "I'll be lucky if he just laughs at my face." 

"Your call," Lyla yielded.

In the end she couldn't find a Miguel variant alive in your dimension. And so your plight continued with no end in sight and a lot of damage to your psyche.

21… 22… 23… 24…

But recently, something changed.

What was a relatively amicable relationship you and Miguel shared before started turning sour seemingly out of nowhere. The usual sarcastic banters you two engaged with whenever you worked together in the lab disappeared, his tone shifted to something more distant, akin to professional and he rarely ever left his platform anymore. 

It's not like the two of you were particularly close before, he was your superior after all, but there was a level of mutual understanding that had blossomed from your shared work at the lab when the ordeal of monitoring the Society quieted down a little. It was a friendship between peers of the same interest, the exchanges ripe with dry sarcasm and teasing. Sometimes even flirty (or so you thought).

"You have my condolences …" Miguel spoke approaching from behind you, the tone in his voice a harbinger of mockery. But still, you took the bait.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" You asked, turning on your stool while pulling your protective goggles up to face him.

"The educational system in your dimension truly failed you, did it not?" He bent his torso over the desk you were working on, a hand on it supporting his weight, his other hand on his hip. With him closer, you could clearly see the smirk he casted at you. You rolled your eyes, bracing for the impact.

"Why would you think that?"

"Oh, it is very clear to me you can't read since you're blatantly ignoring the safety protocol from the manual I gave you for the usage of the very tool you're holding."

"Eat shit, O'Hara," you playfully smacked his abdomen with your elbow. "I read the protocol but this way of using it is way more efficient and safe all the same and you know it."

"Oh, you're the expert now then? I should be having you writing the documentation on tool usage instead of having you working the machinery huh?"

"You know you need me here, O'Hara." You smugly quipped, looking at him… but he didn't promptly respond. You watched his eyebrows rise up at your words, his burgundy eyes searching yours for something you couldn't quite catch while the tension his pause bestowed made you start worrying your words might have been misinterpreted. Even worse was that little delusional part of you that made you believe such an action held any semblance of reciprocation to your feelings.

After what felt like an eternity he spoke again. His voice dripped with something sweeter, but still with the familiar tinge of spice your banters usually carried "I'm certain you're the one that needs me."

The abrupt end to this dynamic would have saddened you. Heck, it'd have somewhat relieved you at the prospect of some reprieve from your roller-coaster of emotions… If it wasn't for his new constant surveillance.

Miguel started to watch you like a hawk, analyzing your every move under a microscope, never missing a chance to criticize or nitpick whatever you were doing. Suddenly your work at the lab wasn't as efficient, the missions you went on didn't produce as many good results and even the way you addressed the other Spiders wasn't ideal.

All that pent-up frustration of navigating your feelings for him became good fodder for the shift in your own tone. You couldn't help but become petty, picking fights at every chance you had. 

"I already told you are using that tool wrong," came a baritone voice from behind you. 

You sighed, pulling up your protective goggles. The ire inside of you was already boiling, readying you for the imminence of combat. "And I already told you this is a more efficient way to use it."

"You are going to hurt yourself if you keep at it" He responded. His own tone getting stricter.

"I need to get this done by the end of today and this way of using it significantly cuts time," you insisted. Voice picking volume while you smacked every word with venom. "And speaking of time, you are very much wasting mine, O'Hara. So it would be everyone's best interest if you could kindly fuck-off."

Before you knew it, you started resenting him. Whenever he complained about your endeavors, you spat back at him, seldom escalating the situation. At times your bickering would turn into a shouting contest, the noise reverberating outside the Lab. More often than not you felt the urge to lunge at him during these fights, to pin him to the ground and shut him up - you just couldn't figure out if it was with a kiss or a punch across the jaw.

And today only served to rub more salt on the wound.

25… 26… 27… 28… 

On a mission you thought you had wrapped up well enough, you paid a little less attention to the aftermath and the Anomaly broke free, piercing you with a sharp projectile. Lyla's sudden warning was the only thing that kept your enemy's attack from striking a more vital area. You were able to dislodge the bolt and recapture the Anomaly, this time being able to bring him with you to HQ. But Lyla's appearance meant only one thing: Miguel was watching you. And he had a front row seat to your failure, the scolding from before was practically a given… But still made you fume nonetheless.

You poured every single bit of you into this man and his Society, was it not enough? What could you possibly be doing wrong to prompt this keen surveillance out of him? Couldn't he just tell you instead of intensively watching you as he waited for an opportunity to belittle you once you inevitably fail? To put you to the test despite everything else you've done for the Multiverse so far? Was that even a failure? You caught the Anomaly and brought it here. Your mission was a success. It was an undeniable success. It was a GODDAMN SUCC… 

"ARGH!"

The sound of the barbell hitting the floor behind you echoed through the empty room. You fell to your knees, grasping the bandages over your wound as you felt a warm liquid seep through it - blood. 

You got careless. Again.

As your mind wandered and the anger of your pent-up frustration took over, the conscious effort to keep tension away from your midsection to avoid exerting unnecessary pressure on your wound faltered and the extra weight you held forced it open once more. So much for training to better the body.

It didn't matter, your accelerated healing factor would fix this… in time. With a resolute exhale, you got up and decided to wrap up your training for the day. As long as Miguel didn't find out about this mishap and it didn't affect your performance, it should be OK. 

It WOULD be OK. You were gonna make sure of it.

—-----------------

Your mission the next day was brought directly to you at your doorstep.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" 

You woke up in a jolt as Lyla's sprite sprung from your watch at your bedside table, bathing your otherwise dark bedroom in a yellowish glow.

"Lyla! What was that for?" You barked, voice still raspy from sleep. The tell-tale warm brightness  announcing the morning's arrival was nowhere to be seen, meaning it was very early. Too early to have HQ calling you.

"Get ready. We tracked an Anomaly in your Universe, a Green Goblin variant" the AI said, her usual playful tone gone "Miguel's on his way here."

You groaned as she disappeared, your first mission right after being put on probation and it started at an ungodly hour in your very own dimension. You maneuvered yourself out of bed and was bitterly reminded of your wound as soon as you tried to rotate your torso, the pain flushing the rest of sleep out of your system. Today you learned your superhuman healing factor couldn't miraculously stitch together a deep wound overnight, especially one you foolishly tore open a second time.

For a moment you debated if it was wise to throw yourself at a mission in your current state, but you swatted that thought out as fast as it came to you. They'd be able to summon another Spider to this mission no problem if so you wished, but you couldn't possibly give Miguel the satisfaction of learning you were careless enough to not only sustain an ugly wound, but  also made it worse by being stubborn. Not to mention the utter distaste at letting him and someone else save your dimension in your stead - not happening. You could manage a little pain, you just needed to be careful. 

You changed into your suit and equipped your gear as fast as you could and soon you were on your apartment's building rooftop. You were greeted by Miguel's back as he scouted your New York's (Santa Iorque) skyline. You loathed the blooming fondness, the heartache the sight still caused you.

"Go back to HQ, O'Hara. I'll handle this one myself," you spat. He turned his head slightly, the eyes in his mask narrowing down.

"You don't get a say in this" he retorted.

"Fine. Try not to get in my way, then" you jabbed, walking over to his side. You could feel Miguel shifting a little as you scanned the horizon for any sign of the Anomaly.

"Lyla, what's his location?" Miguel spoke to his watch. 

"Still working on it," the AI responded, her sprite typing on a little computer "I'm experiencing a lot of interference, the cause is still unknown."

"What do you mean interfe– "

Before Miguel could finish, the loud bang of an explosion ripped through the air, leaving behind an expanding cloud of greenish smoke. You and Miguel briefly nodded at each other before rushing towards it.

Spotting the perpetrator wasn't hard. Cruising above a crescent-shaped hovercraft stood a figure you could only describe as a techno-imp with jester undertones. You jumped over them as they threw a second explosive, intercepting its trajectory mid-air with your hand, and launching it skyward as you landed on a rooftop nearby. The greenish explosion almost looked like fireworks.

"Well, that's what I'd call a ban… ugh, nevermind," you turned to your very annoyed opponent, if the frown on his display-like mask was anything to go by "Look, I'm not in the mood for snarky banter, so let's get this over wi–"

Your Spider-senses kicked in just in time for you to dodge a barbed javelin-like metal bolt. The sudden movement made your wound hurt, causing you to hold back a gasp. Miguel's red webbing ensnared the Goblin before they could fire a second one and just like that it seemed like the mission was over.

But the Goblin's right feet move to a button on his hovercraft and the next thing you know a piercing high-pitched noise reverberated all around you. Miguel's webbing glitched a few times before disappearing and you watched him panicking as his stupid holo-suit started glitching as well. 

In a less tense moment maybe you'd feel embarrassed about his now half-exposed torso, but the Goblin's disappearing from your field of view proved more concerning. Suddenly, your senses kicked in again and you quickly glanced at the scene of a very distracted Miguel trying his hardest to revert - or at least stop - his forced undressing as the Goblin reappeared behind him, quickly closing in with their javelin gun ready to shoot. 

You panicked. Miguel had his attention elsewhere, the piercing noise completely muffled the sound of his incoming attacker and he didn't have Spider-senses to alert him. 

You had to save him.

On instinct, you lunged yourself in their direction, shooting your own web at the Goblin. But they spotted you, redirecting his aim, while you set the flying ropes of web ablaze. It all happened in a second, the web ensnared then just as they shot the javelin, your fire rapidly consuming the web until reaching the Goblin, the flames briefly engulfing them. You tried dodging the javelin again, but the whole ordeal was too much for your wound, the pain roused enough to snatch your attention for a millisecond, the exact amount of time you had to move away from it. 

You didn't move away from it. 

The javelin pierced the spot under your ribs right where your wound was. You fell on the rooftop with a loud thud, rolling a few times before stopping, leaving a trail of blood behind. You managed to open your eyes to see the Goblin hovering away in retreat and Miguel turning his head to you having seemingly managed to fix the glitch in his suit. You watched realization kicking in him as the eyes on his mask widened. 

"¡Puta madre!" Miguel shouted as he flinged himself to your bent over form."This is why you can't go on missions by yourself." 

"What?" You barked in pure incredulity, despite the searing pain below your rib cage "This is gah –…this is your fault!"

"How is this my fault?" He retaliated, crouching beside you as he tried to assess your wound. You swatted his hand away before he continued "You're the one who got careless. Again."

"I was protecting you, you mmnph–" you scrunched your face midsentece trying to get up, the motion sending another flash of pain through your system. Miguel tried helping you again, but you held his wrist in place before he could touch you. You had a point to make "You ungrateful fuck! Your lack of Spider-Sense was gonna be the end of you. This literally wouldn't have happened if you weren't here."

"You talk big for someone bleeding out" he retorted, freeing himself from your grip. His movement accidentally made you lose balance and you had no strength in you to regain it in time, but Miguel caught you before you hit the floor "Lyla, send someone to pick her up and take her to the Med Bay."

"Don't you dare… " you tried sounding assertive, but the pain reduced your voice to a whimper at best. Wound or no wound, you still had a mission to finish.

"¡Por dios! Can you quit being so stubborn for five minutes?" He spat back at you "¡OYE, LYLA! I need assistance!"

But once again the AI didn't respond. Miguel groaned in frustration and tried his best to dial the commands on his watch while holding you as you tried your best to trash your way out of his grip. But no matter what he did, the gizmo's only response was a continuous static noise paired with a greenish blank screen "¡Que carajo! Why's this thing not working?? LYLA! Can you hear me?"

Miguel groaned again, considering his options. You were losing a considerable amount of blood and the Anomaly was nowhere to be seen. He picked you up with one arm, trying his best to not jolt you.

"O'Hara… put me down," you complained, but there was no force to back it up. You started feeling light-headed on top of the pain.

"Shut-up," save your strength he meant to say, but that would convey more than he felt necessary. There was no time for frivolities and sentimentalism, he needed to act fast. With Lyla and his team off-line, his best option would be taking you back home. 

He tested the integrity of his neon-red webbing, but it was no use - the quick work he did to stop his suit from fully disintegrating was crude at best, he was grateful to at least have prevented its meltdown in time to not be left completely exposed. He retracted his suit from his fingertips up to his wrist, getting his organic web shooters free - its string wasn't as strong as the neon-red artificial ones, but for aerial traversion it would more than suffice. Miguel positioned your torso over his shoulder with care, hugging your legs together with an arm (a part of him painfully aware of how soft your thighs were) and jumped off the rooftop, slinging himself away to your apartment.

You hated how comforting the warmth of his body was against your own, how his scent, a mixture of oak, spices and his own musk, was undeniably helping soothe the woes of your current predicament. The gentle way in which he held you, taking extra care to keep your body from wobbling too much while he carried you made your heart ache almost more than your wound was. It was in times like these, when his stoic facade faltered, giving way to the caring and sensible self underneath, that you remember why he held your heart. 

Soon, you arrived at your apartment building. Miguel climbed through your bedroom window, gently placing you on your bed. He took the cover off of one of your pillows, handing it to you.

"Here, press this against your wound to stop the bleeding," he said, the mask of his suit retracting to reveal his angled face "Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"I–, y-yeah, it's in the cabinet under the bathroom sink," you answered. Taking the cover from his hand, you quickly folded it in half and did as he told you, wincing a bit at the contact. Miguel was back with the medical box not long after.

"You'll have to let me take a look at it," he said, placing the box on the bed next to you. His words were demanding, but the tone conveyed nothing of the sort - it was a question, he was asking for permission.

"Y- yeah, of course," you answered, uncovering your wound. Miguel kneeled next to bed getting closer while bringing his hands to your torso. You watched entranced the furrow in his brows as his red eyes darted quickly left and right, his digits gently probing the area around the wound. 

"Doesn't seem to have pierced anything serious," he muttered "But it's odd…"

It was your time to furrow your brows "What is?"

"The wound from yesterday should've be in a more advanced state of healing," he said "you do have the hastened healing factor in your power repertoire."

You tensed a bit, looking away. The last thing you needed right now was him finding out about your mishap at the Conditioning and Strength sector yesterday. But of course, Miguel being Miguel caught that little shift in your body language.

"What happened?" He asked right away, bringing his eyes up to you without lifting his head.

"There was… an accident yesterday," you began, trying to find the words. As much as you didn't want him finding out about the Gym incident, there was no point in lying. Better try to soften the blow "Exerted myself too much and the wound reopened."

"Dios mio, that's why the gash was so deep…," Miguel mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose "Why the shock were you exerting yourself when you should have been resting?"

A surge of anger started blooming in your chest at his inquiry. It was risky to go into a training session with your wound, you knew that. You also knew there were a million other ways to blow off steam if that was all it was to it. But increasing endurance, enhancing conditioning, building up muscle - all of these were connected to improvement. This self-imposed never-ending quest for leveling up all in the name of helping Miguel, in an attempt to placate your feelings for him.

All for him.

Maybe you should have stopped to consider your well-being instead of going straight to the brawny way of amping-up yourself. There ought to be something else that could mindlessly soothe your nerves while also working as a method of improvement - the way exercising often did -, but yesterday you weren't exactly thinking. There was no bandwidth left to think, you were just so fucking tired.

Tired of putting so much effort in the pursuit of the right to share the weight of the responsibility he carried. Tired of seeing your comfortable platonic relationship you two once shared start to wane seemingly out of nowhere, despite all your efforts to prove yourself worthy of his good graces. Tired of how, despite all of this, your heart stubbornly kept yearning for him.

You were in dire need of respite.

"This is such bullshit," you croaked, clenching your palms into fists. 

"What did-," Miguel couldn't finish. With a loud exhale, you shoved Miguel's hands away from you while throwing your legs down the other side of the bed. You hurled yourself up, the adrenaline from your anger fueling your body was the only thing keeping the pain and dizziness at bay.

"I'm done. I quit Spider-Society," you barked through gritted teeth, making your way to your wardrobe while pressing the pillowcase to your wound. You knew you had some strong compression tape in there that should keep yourself from bleeding out until you were done with the mission "I'm catching the goddamn Anomaly. I'm not letting my universe get nuked today, but after that I'M FUCKING DONE."

"Stop! Get back here, you're in no condition to be moving around like that. Let alone finish this mission."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," you barked back, rummaging through your wardrobe. "I'm still this dimension's one and only Spider-Woman. I have a duty with these citizens and I'm gonna protect them."

Suddenly, you felt your wrist being held. You turned around only to meet Miguel's eyes. But instead of finding irritation you found… helplessness. 

"Please, stop… " the abrupt shift of tone in his voice chipped at your rage. There was caution, fear and a bit of… desperation? It made you pause, if only for pure bewilderment.

"Why should I?" the flames of your ire had been subdued, but the heat of the ember underneath still burned hot "Our priority is catching the Anomaly and safeguarding this dimension."

He exhaled, casting his eyes down to where his hand met your wrist. When he brought them back to meet your gaze, you were presented with his familiar stoic frown "You're going to jeopardize this mission in your current condition."

There it was, the spark to reignite your wrath.

"Shut the fuck up, O'Hara," you snapped, yanking your wrist away from his grasp. "I don't care about your mission, I just need to catch that Anomaly and save my city." You turned to him, angrily pointing at his chest, "YOU shouldn't be here. YOU are also an Anomaly! Get the FUCK out of here, O'Hara. I'm DONE being your silly little plaything!"

The knot in his brow softened a bit at your words. 

"You're not my plaything." He uttered, a bit unsure.

You stiffened, your eyes unfocused darting left and right contemplating the stuff you just said. You bitterly realized that in your fury, you had let out more than you needed to. You searched his face for disgust or discomfort but found a concerned confusion in his eyes.

Swallowing your pride, you decided to press on.

"I'm so tired, Miguel," you muttered in a long exhale "I've been trying so hard, working so much to help keep the multiverse safe… But it feels like the more I do, the worse you treat me." You felt your legs start getting wobbly as the adrenaline waned down, but you had a point to make. "No matter how hard I try, you tell me everything I'm doing is wrong…" you let your hands fall to your sides as the dizziness came back full throttle. With half-lidded eyes, you met Miguel's face once again before muttering "Why am I… even… here…"

"Because I need you"

You barely registered Miguel's response before you collapsed. The last thing you remembered was him rushing to your side as everything became black. ---------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

[just-observing-here]

I love V1's design so much. I love how insect-like its appearance is. Its multiple wings, its outer armor that's like an insect's outer armor, its one optic. I love how dehumanizing its design is to itself, especially compared to the other creatures in hell. Most of the husks and demons have human-like qualities, albeit being just a face and such, and while V1 is definitely still anthropomorphic it's also losing its human-like qualities as the game progresses! Think about the fact it gained 2 new arms for itself and how that breaks its human figure, not only that but adds to its insect like qualities! The fact that its qualities are insect-like add to its character a lot too! Bugs are considered weak and disgusting by most of the population; However, bugs were the first to do many things considered revolutionary to humans. Flight, civilization, art, all of it! They were like the version 1 of humanity in a funny way. But, in an ironic fashion, as it loses its human look we learn of its more human-like qualities in its behavior. Its "You're not getting away this time" with the V2 fight. The fact that's it's basically going to run its blood source to 0. Its march to its own destruction being its most humanlike trait. I love that so much. In Act 3, I'm hoping Gabriel drops the "machine" nickname and refers to V1 as "Hellspawn" or "Pest." Bringing more of the insect like comparisons while showing that he sees V1 as more than a machine now!

I love how the only thing that actually humanizes V1 is its bringing of its own doom. Its violence and insatiable need is what makes it feel more alive.

I love how its actions could be considered heroic in a messed up sense. Hell was a mistake made by God and V1 is destroying it. The council was corrupt and it made Gabriel realize this. It finally gave Gabriel a good fight. It freed Minos and Sisyphus. It's permanently killing the tortured and freeing them from hell. Of course, in a very messed up way…

I love the comparison of Humanity (God's creation) gaining free-will against his will and machines (Mankind's creation) gaining free-will against their will.

I love the parallels of Gabriel's and V1's designs. How both stories are told and how they relate to each other.

I fucking love Ultrakill. There's so much more I can cover but this post is already a lot. Be free to add other things you love about the game and its lore.

[8o8o8o8o8]

Sisyphus/Gabriel pre-relationship stressful fluff (?), Sisyphus pov. In which Gabe asks for a hug and Sisyphus tries not to confess his feelings

"Hey—" Gabriel recoils from how awkward he sounds, but valiantly presses on—“Can I...May I hug you?”

Sisyphus only hums to acknowledge that he's heard the question. The railway line from Lust to Violence is long, and the angel has been mostly silent since they boarded. Gabriel clearly has been using that time to think, and this is the end station of that particular train.

First things first. Yes or no? He could wonder about the why and how of Gabriel's request later. Yes would let him see how this pans out. No would be— No would let him delay addressing an untimely truth for a while longer.

...Yes would also mean Gabriel's hands on him.

Sisyphus has always been too human.

He wordlessly lifts an arm. Gabriel inches closer, sighing as he practically glues himself to Sisyphus' side, squeezing so tight he can't tell the soft creak he felt is Gabriel's ribcage or his own.

The intensity isn't exactly surprising, but his breath sticks in his throat nonetheless. He drapes his arm over Gabriel's shoulder, fighting the urge to knead away the tension in his neck. Tries for an amused tone instead of worried. "What brought this on?"

"It just occured to me that I haven't held anyone since the end of humanity. I don't think it did any damage, but I figured I should, uh, stop not doing that?"

His immediate reactions are 'fucking hell' and 'that tracks, I hate it' and, infinitesimally quiet yet louder than a gunshot, 'oh Gabriel.'

He does not say any of those things. What comes out instead is a soft, angry noise that he can't quite suppress. He turns towards Gabriel and pull the angel in with a hand behind his helmet.

Gabriel gasps once. Shudders through the exhale. But his posture slacks and he loosens his lifeline-grip on Sisyphus' middle.

He pets down Gabriel's spine and resolutely not say a thing about the fingers flexing against his own back.

"I was doing worse than I thought, it seems." Gabriel sighs into Sisyphus' shoulder. His voice is dangerously thick. "Thank you."

"It's basic decency." He waves it off automatically, just like he did a hundred times before. A hundred delays of the truth, because Gabriel still looks at him like Sisyphus is his new god sometimes and the last thing he want is to muddy the line between love and worship when the angel has barely started figuring it out.

If the bastard upstairs wasn't already dead Sisyphus would have wring his neck about these battles.

Oblivious to his internal cursing, Gabriel scoffs. "You don't care about that." Trust Saint Gabriel the Prideful to sound so unimpressed moments after falling apart.

"It is human nature to feel pity, then," he amends. "I'm simply choosing not to fight nature."

'Do not challenge that statement', he wants to say, 'you're not getting the truth out of me. Don't make me say it. Not now. Not yet.'

"If you say so." And oh, so that's what Gabriel sounds like when he's being playful. Fuck, he needs to stop this before he say something neither of them are ready for.

He jabs Gabriel in the side and Gabriel squirms so hard he falls off of the seat.

[it-one-line-at-a-time]

hi you gave the go ahead on sending you reddie asks so uhhhhh hi im here now

the losers club is one giant love heptogon. like poly qpr with romantic subsets

because everyone loved bev romantically and vice versa (cough cough sewer sex scene cough)

and richie loved eddie but he also had a crush on mike and definitely thought ben was hot (voiced this himself) and he has self worth issues and hides his insecurities with jokes (insecure hes bi so makes im-so-straight jokes, insecure hes ugly so makes im-so-hot-and-deffinatly-pull jokes) and even if hes stupid people love him because they KNOW why hes like that so thet play into it to make him feel better BECAUSE THEY LOVE HIMMMMM

and ben has always been just this little socially awkward idiot filled with love and definitely loved everyone in the losers club and hes emotional and i personally think hes arospec and feels unreasonable amounts of intense platonic love, to the point he mixes it up with romantic love (like me!!)

and mike definitely thinks hes not enough if he doesn't help people. he thinks if he doesn't help everyone around him hes useless and unloveable but at the same time only cares about the opinion of people hes deemed important (people that can hurt him and his friends) so of COURSE he helps his friends and hes the guy who keeps them safe (assuring they have weapons, making sure everyone is present and accounted for, ect) and everyone else loves him because hes there when they need protection and thats enough<33333333

and everyone loves bill to. how could you not hes just a stuttering dumbass little baby that need protected. plus he loves his friends for being there when he needed it (when georgie died, ect)

and eddie worrys about all his friends safety because they might be dumb and disease ridden assholes but there HIS dumb disease ridden assholes. and everyone loves eddie because hes like a weird overbearing jerk and he CARES. he CARES about there safety and no one else does.

and stan. he has some form of religous guilt. so when he found people that thought of him as stan and not stan the jewish kid he was over the moon. and everyone loves stan because even though he has his issues theyd NEVER leave him

sorry im just really fucking mentally ill and think my gay children need hugs and that my old man yaoi should have been allowed to be happy (reddie fix it fics save me. reddie fix it fics. save me reddie fix it fics)

Yikes, this got longer than I'd expected. Buckle in.

I read the sewer scene for the first time at school surrounded by my friends, and I think it was the one time I've read something that genuinely horrified me so much that I couldn't bring myself to be over-the-top scared of it to be funny. I have a younger brother who's turning eleven soon and the thought of it makes me wanna take a bath, if you know what I mean!!! Hm.

Also you are SO right about the Losers all loving each other. Yeah, there's the romantic pairings - Richie + Eddie, Bev + Bill (at least as kids) - but honestly they all love each other sooooo much it's kinda crazy. I'm kind of obsessed with how they conveyed how much they care for Richie in particular to the films - when he's crying after Eddie's death and they all hug him and he's like, 'Hm? They know I'm gay, and they still love me?', and he looks down at them genuinely confused for a moment - because it's so subtle but my God it's done so sweetly.

Speaking of sweet, HELL yeah Ben loved them all! My boy literally has love rolling off him like Sisyphus' boulder off the mountain. Whether it's platonic or romantic is personal opinion, but literally nobody can dispute that after Bill and Eddie (and Richie, in the film) took him into the Losers Club, he fucking adored them, man. Of course he loves Bev, that's kind of the most given thing to ever be given, but to be honest I think both he and Mike are the most symbolic of the Losers' love, because they were outsiders who found their family within the group.

Talking of Mike, he is the personification of 'the glue that holds the group together'. Literally, yes, when he calls them back to reunite after twenty-seven years, but you're right that it's in more subtle ways, too; the way he has the bolt-gun and ammunition, the way he is willing to sacrifice himself in the movie because he knows he messed up big time. And that last bit, too, is one of the biggest pieces of evidence in my opinion about your theory, dear asker who is definitely not a raccoon in disguise, that he feels inadequate if he doesn't actively protect the group. But they love him for it! <3

Ahhh, Billiam my boy. The one that every one of the Losers was genuinely a little bit in love with. The one who would not only readily die for any one of them, but who would die for a random kid with a skateboard who's only ever been rude to him! Of course in the book it is explored how much Georgie's death really affected him, of course it was, but that scene in Chapter 1 where he finds Georgie's raincoat and the Losers all just hug him without saying anything while he sobs is so fuckin' special, man. And that's the Losers Club, them all together, unconditional love and respect and love and love.

Eddie hiding how much he adores his friends under a mask of worry and ill-tempered arguments is genuinely such a lovely character trait. It doesn't take a genius to see that "You guys know that alleys are known for dirty needles that have AIDS, right? You guys do know that?" is a masked-up version of "Guys please don't go into that alley, I don't want you cutting yourself and getting this awful and scary disease going around". It's literally just him saying, in his own little way, I fucking love you guys, don't get hurt, and taking it upon himself to keep them all safe forever. Bill's "He'd be looking out for us... the way he always was." is in NO way lost on me, man.

One thing the book did that I thought was so so good and so so interesting was looking at religious guilt, through Patty, but it's not difficult to imagine that it extends to Stan, too. I swear there are some points - usually from characters like Henry Bowers' points of view - where Stan is kind of just, 'the Jewish one' (like how Richie is the loudmouth, and Ben is the fat one), so I reckon you're definitely right that when the Losers got to know him as Stanley Uris, rather than 'the Jewish kid', it was probably like a huge weight off his shoulders. And that's one of the reasons that he loves his disjointed little group, because they were the first to accept him and his religion as one.

Anyway, yes, the Losers love each other and they would die for each other and I would die for them please and thank you.

(Also, I agree that Reddie fix-it fics were put onto earth by God Themself.)

[ashyjingles]

Who is the raeken

THEO RAEKEN FROM TEEN WOLF AKA ONE OF THE SADDEST BITCHES IVE EVER SEEEEEN

(tbh with the way u like jason grave i have a feeling u might like theo too actually)

okay so massive spoiler warning if you ever do plan on watching teen wolf everything is under the cut just in case

OKAY SO (i could be so wrong about some of this stuff btw i haven't actually finished the show)

theo raeken had some sort of heart condition as a kid so when he was 8 or 9 these evil scientists showed up in his dreams/house and told him he could live a normal healthy life because his sister (who was about a year older than him) actually wanted to give him her heart!! all he had to do was bring her to a bridge over a very cold river/creek/stream in the middle of winter and watch as she froze to death in it. (i'm unsure if it was him or the evil doctors that pushed her in there, but he did watch her die and did nothing to save her) (he later defended his actions by saying he still believed santa at the time and didn't know she would actually die from it but he's a known manipulative little shit) and then he basically got a heart transplant after that

anyways the evil scientist doctors (called the dread doctors) then used science to turn him into an off brand werewolf through many very questionable processes that probably didn't include anesthetic. vivisection! woo!

anyways he grew up with them in the sewers for nearly a decade while the doctors experimented on other science-natural teenagers but none of them actually lived and were labeled "failures" but somehow theo? the first experiment? was successful all those years. so. anyways that happened until they decided to start their big massive project that would basically make theo useless

so naturally theo took on his own big project that involved taking down the main protagonist of the series through lots of manipulation and seeming like a helpful good mostly normal 17/18 year old boy just to turn around and kill one of them (who was resurrected like 5 minutes later so it doesn't count) and lots more betraying and leaving for dead involving other people. honestly it's a miracle there was so little death surrounding him in this era

anyways when that didn't work he resurrected some of the failures and basically went along the lines of "i saved you so i own you now" and then killed some of them for real. and then the main protagonists needed a way to stop him so they sent him to what was basicallyyyy hell (i think before this he helped killing the doctors?? i'm not sure i haven't actually watched that bit. the doctors are dead at this point in time tho)

anyways in hell his sister routinely chased him through a hospital and ripped his heart out in this fucked up time loop. imagine sisyphus but worse. fields of punishment type deal. (very popular quote where he tells her "you don't have to stop" while he's like fucking coughing up blood or something)

anyways because of another big bad the protagonists were facing one of them decided to pull him out of hell (his name is liam and they are very commonly shipped together. there are some rumors they were meant to be canon in the show but weren't) and basically decided to label theo as his responsibility but their relationship was very punchy for a long while

anyways theo goes through a lot of shit and despite previously very clearly only caring for himself he lowkey contradicts everything he says ("im not dying for you!"-theo "im not dying for you either! but i will... fight with you"-liam (and then theo proceeds to throw himself directly into the line of fire to save liam the lying liar)) (would also like to note the place they are at for this era is the hospital and theo very clearly is Not Okay with the reminders of his time in hell. traumatized bitch. i love him my little murderous meow meow.)

anyways they leave on not quite good terms but no longer murderous terms and theo lives in his truck for a while because the doctors are dead and he can't go back to sewers so he's effectively homeless.

anyways the guy he Kind Of Killed But Not Really then calls and says hey!! liam (the person who sort of tolerates him in exchange for help) needs help!! can you help him!!! and for whatever reason despite several months between the last big bad and this big bad theo still hasn't skipped town so he does in fact go help liam. and lots of scenes that set him on the path to a redemption arc (plus a better relationship with liam)

and then. that's the end of the show. i will now attach sad and bleeding pictures of my murderous little meow meow to sway you toward feeling affection for him

and then the smug/evil look because he's not very vocal about being sad okay he's actually an intolerable little shit most of the time and that's why i love him

pinterest give me better photos of him damnit half of these are ass

we call his short hair his hedgehog hair and it's a very large indicator that he's evil thank you

can you see why i like him please tell me you see why i like him

pspsps i can give a much better and more detailed (and sadder) description if u want but i feel like this covers the basics