#OKAY TIME TO TERRORIZE PEOPLE'S INBOXES

[deathfavor]

[fancyfeathers]

zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

This is the freebie of all freebies. Write whatever you want whenever you want how often you want. Save this in your inbox or post it, I do not mind either way. I always love to see what you write, doesnt really matter what :)

You look the man in front of you up and down and don't bother to keep your lip from curling, "No."

"Come on baby," he purred, stepping closer, reaching out to straighten your jacket, forcing contact. He screams of lust. Of the need to dominate and control. He sees what a lot of men see when they look at you.

A fragile little doll. A breakable little girl. A lost little lamb. Someone who just needs a daddy. A protector. Easy prey.

"Touch me," you warn, "and you'll forget to sit before you take a shit." You don't bother to specify whether or not it'll be because you'll mindfuck him until he bashes his head against a wall to make it stop or because Batman, Nightwing, or any number of the other heroes in the vicinity right now will curb stomp him until he's a blithering idiot.

His eyes are lifeless. Like a puppet's. And when his hand closes around your wrist his skin is hot and dry. It feels like crepe paper left in the sun and he reeks of burnt sugar. Target. Suspect.

So before you carry out your promise, you ping Cass. Trusting her to alert Bruce. You might not QUITE be able to mindfuck him into oblivion but NO ONE was ever going to prey on you again. And as he pull you close to his chest, it was immensely satisfying to make him piss his pants in the alley, writhing in wordless unhinged terror as you skipped your new black velvet boots neatly out of the puddle.

"Hn."

"Interesting way to make new friends, Changeling," Clark observed, surveying the scene. Trying not to react to the fact that you look a little too pleased with yourself.

"I did tell him not to touch me," you inform them, watching dispassionately as his sobs turned to vomiting.

"Can you let up before he aspirates things into his lungs," Bruce sighed. At least it was focused rage. And at least he'd probably cooperate as long as they didn't leave him alone in a room with you. That was... something.

And while you don't reply, at least not verbally, he can tell that you comply. Mostly because the man stops writhing and starts gibbering. "Shut up," Batman said rolling his eyes, watching Clark grab him by the back of his coat. "Just tell us what we wanna know or we'll let her do it again. Harder."

"Okay, Okay, Jesus," he protested, "I didn't know I thought she was kidding!" He looked at you and your lip curled reflexively making him flinch. "Everyone always said you were just a joke."

"Let's go," Superman said, "This drug is gonna kill-"

"Anything you wanna know! Just don't let her do it, please!" he pleaded, letting himself be lead away.

"What did you say to him?" Bruce asked, watching Clark load him into a transport where Jason and Dick were loading some others that had been rounded up.

"That if he touched me he'd forget to sit when he took a shit. Granted, I didn't say how."

"Vulgar."

"What was I supposed to do? Scream?"

"Just don't make anyone else piss themselves," Bruce sighed.

"Then don't let Stephanie pick the outfits. She dressed us like sexworkers not nuns and people keep taking liberties. It's gross."

"Point." Bruce admitted. "Point taken." He pinched the bridge of his nose and not for the first time, he just wanted all of you to be little again. You were 19 now. Still a kid. But he wondered if he'd ever stop seeing you as a little girl in his head. Because as Cass took you to the next location and he went to help Stephanie, it took an absurd amount of self-control not to call after you to put on a jacket or something.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

riffing off socially awkward deeply anxious König, do you think he would do better digitally? chatting with someone he met online or someone who streams an obscure game? you have a lovely relationship with him and then before you meet in person he's like so. i'm. very. awkward. as a real person. i might not. talk a lot. you'll be carrying the conversation, don't take it personally. you have a captive audience for ANY topic. anything. you want. and why is it going to be a/b/o's spn origins

Okay yes this absolutely. I can totally write something for that. I hope this story suffices!

Now, I have no idea what you mean by the omegaverse, but I could try making an omegaverse!König if you’d like. I do not understand by spn omegaverse origins. Please feel free to either respond here or ask in my inbox. It should be open??? Tell me if it isn’t.

Anyways, onto the story! More below the cut.

König Prefers Quiet Time

König is a voracious reader, so he’s rather verbose and eloquent when online. His messages are witty, insightful, yet practical and grounded. He’s quick to become your best online friend. After all, he’s so well-spoken! He writes beautiful paragraphs that are easy and amusing to read. It’s rare to find such a delightful person online.

And he’s so quick to win over your heart. Whenever he can be, he there’s for you. He’ll take pictures and videos of sights on deployment or jot down little stories to tell you when he can. Sometimes he can drop off the face of the earth, but he’ll be back online soon enough and messaging you about how his latest mission went and what he did (within reason, can’t give away secrets).

Every time he comes back online, you know you’re in for a good time. Whether it’s him complaining about teammates, or having to argue about directions with a local, he’s got fantastic (yet terribly awkward) stories about his days. He always says he’s so shy and hates social situations, and sure he sometimes sounds a bit strange when he recounts the stories, but they're so fun that you don't really take in how it would look from an outside perspective. Sure, he sounds a bit dorky in these stories, but still so eloquent! He’s got this little way of describing things with abstract metaphors that make you smile and wish you were there by his side.

It took a lot to convince him to have a relationship with you. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s that you ask to meet up in person. He tells you that he’s happy to meet you, but then why does he suddenly have more missions? He’s so punctual, but he missed his flight? When he goes on about having a stubbed toe, you have to put your foot down. You want to see him, and that’s final.

Begrudgingly, he books a vacation with you.

When you go to pick him up from the airport, the first thing that stands out about him is how tall he is. Then how big. You didn’t think they made people in that size. This guy has Shaquille O’Neil running for his money. Like, how? And then you realize that he’s crouching down to make himself look smaller. It’s insanity. At the very least, he’s easy to pick out in a crowd, what with his hood and all. You do worry about him fitting in the car, though.

So you go up to him, and then he sees you and he looks nothing but elated. It’s a beautiful moment between you two. In that hectic airport, with people calling in many languages and bags squeaking and the cars outside honking and revving their engines, it’s perfectly silent and beautiful. It’s a wonderful moment that you think you’ll cherish until you die.

The next moment is where it all falls apart.

He accidentally drops his bag and it spills everywhere. He scrambles to pick it up and he keeps looking around with wide eyes of terror so you take pity on the poor lad and lean down to help. He then promptly stands up and cracks the crown of his head against your nose and now your nose is bleeding and oh no he dropped his bag again and now he’s apologizing and then he’s rushing to the bathroom and you’re left with the realization that you fell in love with an absolute mess. 

By the time he’s back, your nose has stopped bleeding and you’re packing his belongings back into his pack. He tries to silently offer you tissues, so you take them and wipe your nose tenderly, but when you make a joke about it he doesn’t say anything. Odd, but maybe he’s just a bit frazzled.

You’re driving back home when he finally says his first words to you besides ‘hi’, ‘sorry’ and ‘oh no’.

“Thank you,” he says as he stares at the road ahead.

“What, for the drive?” you laugh, “it’s no problem! I mean, it’s not too bad. It’s about an hour’s drive, but I’m fine with that!”

König says nothing, just nods as you speak. You’re starting to worry that you picked up the wrong person. Where was the confident and friendly man you spoke to online? Where was his friendly joking? At least you now understand his awkward and amusing stories he told you, because even though you love him, you can’t help but feel terribly awkward. If he’s this bad with you, you can only imagine how bad it is with others.

You were prepared for someone who was going to talk your ear off, but you felt like you just picked up a skinwalker instead. Was he even blinking? You can’t tell. He looks shell-shocked as he gazes off into the distance.

“So, um, how was the flight?” you ask with a wide smile.

“Gut.”

Anything more? No? Nothing more. Well, that’s helpful.

“Did they give you anything to eat on the flight? Are you hungry?” you ask, hoping to pry more than a couple words out of him.

“I ate,” he says quietly.

You nod and bite your lip. So this is what it was going to be like?

You take him into your home. For the entire night he refuses to take a step outside.

By the time noon rolls around the next day, you decide to take the initiative and knock on his door.

“Hey, König?” you call.

You get a hum from behind the door.

“Can I come in?” you ask nervously.

There’s a pause, then a hiss and a curse, then the door opens.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you squeeze by him, but he doesn't move to let you in any easier.

König sits delicately on the edge of the bed while you sit on a stool across from him. You look at each other for a few moments before you crack.

“Am I… Am I not what you thought I’d be?” you ask nervously.

König tilts his head as he narrows his eyebrows.

“I mean, just…” you sigh, “you talked so much online, but you’ve barely said a word since I picked you up from the airport. Are you okay? Is there something wrong?”

You hesitate for a moment, before you tack on, “Is there something wrong with us?”

König’s eyes slowly widen before he shakes his head quickly, the fabric swinging like a dog shaking after a dip in a lake.

“Nein, you are…” he gestures towards you with one hand, “you are perfect. It’s just… Ah…”

You brace yourself.

“I am not good at talking,” he admits.

You deflate. That’s it? He’s not good at talking?

“But you’re fine online,” you point out.

“Ja, but this is… It is different,” he sighs, “I am not good at talking to people in person. It is.. Scary. I do not like to talk much.”

You nod as you listen carefully.

“So…” you rub your thumb over your kneecap, “would you like me to do most of the talking for us? Would that make things easier for you?”

König nodded quickly.

You laugh as you feel your shoulders relax.

“Great. I think I can do that.”

From then on, the visit is wonderful. Now that you know that König just isn’t great at talking in person, it’s a delight to talk to him. Sometimes you think you talk at him, but you realize pretty quickly that he’s listening attentively to everything you say. He’s a delight to speak to. If you ever lose your train of thought, he’s quick to help you get it back so he can listen to you further.

You realize pretty quickly that he worries too much. When you take him out to places, he’s nervous and flighty. The louder and more chaotic, the worse his social anxiety gets. As such, you find yourself going to more quiet areas. You chill and relax in quiet cafes, go to the aquarium at night, even play some games at a board game cafe in the middle of the day, when there’s nobody else there.

He’s a friendly man, all things considered. You also quickly learn the basis of his awkward stories.

You’re at a grocery store when you see it in action.

“Oh my God you’re so tall!” a woman looks up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

König barely turns to acknowledge her, but he gives her a curt nod.

“Can you, like, help me with something?” she asks eagerly.

König looks down at you, then back to the woman.

“What is it?” his voice is sharply cold, and you can see the woman wince.

“Well, um, there’s this thing on the top shelves, and I was hoping you could get it for me?” she says, a bit nervously.

“What is it?” he’s somehow worse than last time.

“Um, uh, I can show it to you?” she offers meekly.

“I need to know what it is,” König practically tears her head off with how brutal he sounds.

You grab his hand and squeeze slightly, but it seems like it’s all going downhill too quickly.

“It’s-”

König turns to face her abruptly and she’s stumbling back before scurrying off. König watches her go, then turns to you.

“Why did she go?” he asks innocently. You can hardly believe him.

“König…” you start slowly, “is that how you usually speak to strangers?”

He thinks for a moment, then nods.

“König I think I know why you think people hate you.”

König’s eyebrows raise up for a moment, “You do?”

You nod, and give him a brief explanation. You can see his brain doing somersaults in his head, practically melting out his ears as his entire world view is shattered before him. Before he can respond properly, the woman is coming back with security in tow.

It’s no wonder König has so many interesting awkward stories.

[liberifatalis]

I don’t know how long this was in my inbox for, I’m assuming it’s been here for like 3 years so I’m SO sorry anon lol. I’ve been going through writers block for like years at this point and I still struggle with it. 

BUT recently I’ve gotten back intowriting kinda, and since I’ve been writing a Sephiroth fic I thought I’d finally start writing headcanons again. The FF7 writing community outside of in-game ships is dry as fuck right now, especially the headcanon/reader-insert side of fandom, so hopefully you’ll enjoy this if you’re still out there anon! I apologise again TTTT

This is a mix of SFW and NSFW headcanons as it’s been a while since I’ve posted any headcanons, and my view on Sephiroth has sort of changed since the last time I posted headcanons for him, so it might be different to my previous interpretations. But I have included more spicy headcanons, so hopefully you'll enjoy!

I would like to add that while these are my own interpretations of Sephiroth, I have also been influenced by many other interpretations/headcanons of him as well! Most of these aren’t adding anything original at all, and I’d say a lot of blogs on here say about the same kind of thing in regards to him. So if anyone disagrees, that’s okay! This is all interpretation and I’m just mainly having fun.

SFW and non-SFW below All headcanons are of CrisisCore!Sephiroth

DISCLAIMER: long post below, lots of text.

SFW

I know he’s like…technically half alien, and that’s a big reason as to why he’s always felt and kind of behaved differently, but to me, he’s very very neurodivergent coded. I don’t want to use a specific label, but he’s absolutely neurodivergent to me. He’s always felt like an outcast, he stands out, he holds himself differently, he’s aloof, stoic, doesn’t really know how to say things without coming off as intense and kinda intimidating. He barely socialises with anyone other than his friends because he doesn’t really know how to. He never seeks out friendship with anyone, and he became friends with Genesis and Angeal originally because of proximity. I’m not saying the friendship wasn’t genuine, it was and he cared for them, but he’ll never be the first to initiate a friendship or anything like that – the fact that Genesis and Angeal were in SOLDIER, therefore in proximity to Sephiroth, is what sparked the friendship. He would have never been like “hey bro, let’s be buddies”. It was more like, he had to see these people regularly, so he had no choice but to socialise with them, and then he ended up finding out that they weren’t too bad and he enjoyed their company, and friendship and a deeper bond formed after that. 

He struggles to relate to people, but grows very attached to people he can relate to. Whether that’s being an orphan, being an outcast, shared hobbies,  ANYTHING. If he can find anything to relate to someone, something you can share, it sparks his interest (platonically) and will make him feel slightlyyyy more at ease around you and want to get to know you more.

A lot of people headcanon him with anxiety or PTSD, and I completely agree. He’s very neurotic. But I think that’s quite obvious if you consider his past and how he was raised. No one could come out of that completely mentally healthy and sane. He’s prone to insomnia, night terrors, panic attacks, but it’s never shown to anyone but him. In canon, we can see that he’s almost always composed and professional, and he is constantly putting in effort to maintain that demeanor. 

Has no identity outside of SOLDIER/Shinra. Him being neurodivergent also makes him struggle a lot more with this, so he’s kind of internalised being a SOLDIER and it completely defines him. Poor boy is lost.

He likes people (platonically and/or romantically) that can ��keep up with him.” Zack, Genesis and Angeal were his only friends, and it makes sense. They can, at least somewhat, keep up with him. He likes a slight challenge (physically and mentally), someone that can keep his brain moving. I think he’d be amused by someone who was a bit hot-headed or blunt, as well.

Very dry sense of humour, as we see in canon. A lot of the time people can’t tell he’s joking unless they’re close with him. 

Very very intelligent and academic. Loves to read. Lil nerd. Will read encyclopedias, dictionaries, thesauruses, history books, articles, textbooks, science books, anything non-fiction. Not only does it calm his brain and his neuroticism, but he is genuinely interested in anything where he can gain knowledge. Knowledge is power, and he needs to feel powerful. He is a fast reader too, able to finish an average 500 page book in under 6 hours.

Only listens to classical music. Literally does not understand anything else. There can’t be any vocals, just instruments. 

Horrible at expressing himself honestly and genuinely, and spontaneously. Everything is carefully thought out and spoken bluntly, as if he’s reading from a textbook. He will literally stand there silently, eyes narrowed in deep thought, for a minute if he needs that time to think of a reply, because he’s not one to fumble over words. If he’s with someone (a friend or partner) who will give him the space and patience to speak openly and awkwardly, it will still take him time to be completely vulnerable. A partner who is open and vulnerable and doesn’t shy away from being a little awkward with their feelings will involuntarily demonstrate vulnerability for him, and give him an opportunity to try it for himself, and he’ll kind of learn from them.

^^^ Adding on to this point, there are so many scenes in my rough drafts of Flood & Flame where Sephiroth and reader are literally standing there staring at each other like this gif, and mulling over what they should say LMAO. A lot of these scenes made the cut, too. Just two neurodivergent folk falling in love, nothing else to see here!

Takes ages for him to get comfortable with someone and trust them. The process is easier if, as mentioned before, he can relate to you in any way, if you’re open with him first, or if you’re in proximity. Eg, if you work in Shinra or SOLDIER, you mention your mum died, you say you like swords, you mention you like combat, etc etc. It can be something so small, but because he’s neurodivergent and has felt alone his whole life, he’ll latch on to it and that will be the starting point of the friendship/relationship developing. He needs an opportunity to get  closer to you, or else it will be difficult and near impossible.

He needs to feel in control or else he’ll spiral. I don’t mean in a toxic way, as in “you’re my friend/partner so you can never look at anyone and can’t have friends and blah blah blah”, I mean it as in he needs to constantly upkeep his professional demeanour and look like he has his shit together, even if he hasn’t slept for two days and has barely eaten and has been having panic attacks. He will slip, sometimes, maybe being a bit more snarky or moody than usual, or saying/revealing something he didn’t mean to, but ultimately he has control over every facet of his being. This makes him a very intentional person, too. He means everything he says, and sticks to his word. 

He loves routine, it keeps him grounded. But this means that he dislikes change and has a hard time dealing with it. It can be as little as Shinra changing the ingredients to his shampoo and conditioner, or to what happened to Genesis and Angeal in Crisis Core – change on any scale is overwhelming to Sephiroth.

Definitely not a love at first sight kind of guy. Even if you’re like, strikingly beautiful, everyone just is when he first meets them. You’re just a person (and this isn’t in a condescending way lol) like everyone else. He could only develop romantic feelings and love for someone after getting to know them. Then he starts to see you as beautiful and so much more. It’s really sweet.

If he ever developed feelings for anyone, he wouldn’t even know he was developing feelings for a good chunk of it lol. He’d think he was just fascinated by them. Eventually he’d realise, oh shit, do I…love this person? He’d start catching on once he starts thinking of them more often and seeking out their company, and eventually when he had the impulsive urge to kiss them, he’d realise he was in too deep.

Touch starved and also kind of touch repulsed. He’s a contradiction sometimes, and it confuses him.  He’s more touch starved than he is touch repulsed, but when you haven’t had ANY physical affection all your life, and all you know is war and death and being tested on, you of course are going to go into a bit of a shock if anyone touches you. He’s used to combat, to having his guard up and being skeptical. So if you happen to brush your shoulder accidentally against his, or your hand accidentally touches his, it sends a wave of electricity throughout his entire body, almost burning him on the inside. He wants to reach out, but he stops himself. Unsure why he wants to, why he likes it, and Sephiroth not knowing something means not having the upper hand and not having control, and that makes him disgusted and disappointed in himself. 

Physical affection (platonic, romantic, sexual) will take time. He needs to let his guard down to accept it and embrace it. If he trusts you, it will be easier, but still tedious. Once he gets there, even just by a little bit, you’ll see him start to initiate affection, and then once he is fully comfortable being with you, he is obsessed with it. He is always wanting to be in your presence, just like a cat. Even if you’re not doing anything, just being able to see you and be near you is enough and what he needs; this is partly to do with wanting to know you’re safe and worrying that something is going to happen, that something is going to change and he’ll lose everything. Like I said, he needs to be in control, and if he’s around, he can stop something from going wrong.

He comes to love physical affection, it is so so calming to him and comforting. Loves to hold you and smother you. Loves to smell your hair or the soap you used in the shower, he just loves the presence and feeling of you. Eventually he is very clingy and touchy with physical affection, and it’s one way he shows his complete love and devotion. Is a big fan of cuddling (he never calls it that though) and holding your hands–kissing your knuckles and the back of your hand, lightly caressing and dragging his fingers over all the lines and landscape of your hands. Also really loves resting his forehead against yours.

Due to his upbringing and the way he is, love is all-consuming for him. He loves to the point of obsession and even possibly madness. It takes over him. He would happily let it consume him like a wildfire. He would kill for it. I don’t mean this is an inherently toxic way either, BUT this can become very destructive, and if he happens to be so very unlucky and ends up with a person who doesn’t have good intentions, then it could definitely be a bad thing and end up destructive. Now, in the fanfic/fiction side of things, this is obviously very compelling and fascinating to read, and a love like what I described is quite romantic if it’s in a genuine, passionate and non-toxic way. But I just wanted to add that disclaimer that it can become quite the opposite of romantic and be destructive if it’s not a relationship that is trying to be healthy and trying to grow. I don’t mean it in the way that Sephiroth will become abusive, I just mean that he is obsessive naturally, and that can turn out to be a positive or a negative, depending on the situation. He can be a flame that is burnt out, or a flame that burns others. 

MORE SFW + non-SFW

He’s a virgin. I said this before and I stand by it. Has never kissed anyone, has never been touched–the man hasn’t even been hugged, damn it! 

I do think, realistically, if I wanted to be 100000% accurate, I’d consider him asexual and aromantic, especially after Crisis Core timeline, and if you wanted to see him as some narcissistic, entitled, eldritch-horror sort of villain, which he very much is tbh. BUT he is half-human (to me), and I don’t think it’s far-fetched at all to believe he has urges like everyone else. So, for me, I see it the same way as I do with how he’d fall in love with someone. I don’t think he could ever be sexually/physically attracted to someone unless he was close with them and trusted them. Once he develops feelings for you, then he’d start to immediately be sexually attracted to you. Before all that, you were just another person, you just are–your body is a body, it is functioning, it just is. But then, when he has feelings for you (and as I mentioned before, he doesn’t even understand until much later that he has feelings for you), suddenly your body…it takes his breath away. Your shoulders. Your chest. Your everything; it paralyses him, almost. You are a walking goddess/god to him, so beautiful and bright he is transfixed and can’t look anywhere but at you. Your face looks like it was sculpted by an artist that was gifted with magic from the Cetra. A rare beauty, one that he cannot put into words as it is a beauty so special and intricate that no human words can do any justice. When you look up at him, smile at him, he loses sense of time and place, nothing else exists outside of the small moment you are sharing, and he only sees you. The man is a poet at heart.

Since he is a virgin, and is so damn enthralled by you, he doesn’t really know how to act lol. He looks confident and like he’s in control, but he’s not, especially the first time you do anything. The first time you kiss, you’ll have to lean in first, or give him a sign you’re wanting him to kiss you. Honestly, you’ll probably have to tell him it’s okay to kiss you. It’s just a soft, chaste kiss at first. He’s never done this, remember. But like everything, he’s highly skilled and intelligent, and kissing is natural, so once he’s confident again it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of things. 

He has many kinds of kisses. Soft ones that last long without breaking away, reminders that he’s there and he isn’t going anywhere. Other kisses that are quick, multiple long pecks, that are to tell you you’re beautiful and he’s thinking of you and he’s grateful. Then there are the passionate ones, the ones where he throws in every desire and intense feeling he can’t ever comprehend or describe, where he’s losing himself in you–kissing you as if it’s all he knows, changing the rhythm and speed because he’s in the moment. It’s as if he can’t get any closer to you/can’t get enough. Sephiroth’s passionate kisses are exactly how he is–intense, skillful, intentional, and overwhelming. He kisses with the same skill and intent he uses to wield Masamune. 

Sexually repressed boy. Sex is extremely vulnerable, and he doesn’t understand or know how to express his sexuality. At first he’s afraid he’s going to hurt you. 

The first time he has sex, he is in awe and is so curious. He focuses more on you, ignoring himself, wanting to know every contour of your body. His hands are all over, eyes focused on you, trying to gauge every reaction so he can store it in his memory. He always cares more about your pleasure than his own, and he is genuinely turned on when you are. He is slow and gentle, taking his time, and he needs your instructions to figure out what to do. 

Once he is familiar with your body, and his own, he’s literally insatiable. He needs you, every day. And since he’s SOLDIER and not completely human, the man has stamina. Jesus christ. He could go for multiple rounds and he’s good to go even after he came. He knows he’s built differently though, like a fucking tank, and unless you’re into overstimulation, he’s perfectly happy with whatever you want. 

I think a relationship with Sephiroth, that eventually includes sex, will include a lot of exploration for you both. But especially with Sephiroth. He’s never been this vulnerable and open before, never really understood his sexuality and urges and was kind of disgusted in them. But I think he’d discover a lot about himself, and it surprises him just how much desire he really has.

Sex with Sephiroth is not just fucking. It can’t be. He couldn’t have sex with someone he didn’t trust and have strong feelings for. Sex is an act of love, an act of devotion and adoration, an opportunity to tell you without words just how much he’d do for you and how deeply he loves you. Just like when he kisses you, it’s like he can’t get close enough, and even though you’re pressed against each other he still needs to be closer. 

He really loves the feeling of your bare chest against his. It almost makes him primal. 

I think he’d be really into edging, and he’d have a praise kink. He’d want to be worshiped but would also be worshiping you. It would be two people literally feeding each other’s egos lmao. I also think, considering how much control and power he does truly have, he’d also be happy to relinquish it from time to time, and enjoy a partner who’s a bit domineering and bossy, and one that takes control. So if you want to push him down on the bed, ravish him and boss him around, and ride him till the sun sets, he’ll be more than delighted. 

Loves giving head. Yes, everyone likes receiving it, but when he gives head, it’s like he’ll never be able to do it again. He goes down on you as if it’s his last day on the planet. Absolutely devours you like Shinra has ordered him to. His tongue and jaw never get tired, by the way. 

Not very loud but he does get more vocal the more you have sex. Grunts a lot and has a very deep, guttural moan. 

He’s very attuned to the senses. Sound, smell, and touch turn him on so much, and have a significant effect on him. The sound of your voice can send him into a frenzied state, and even if it’s the middle of the day and he happens to smell your perfume or scent on his sheets or his clothes, he starts to go crazy. 

More often than not he has to tie up his hair every time you have sex or he goes down on you. It always gets in the way, and you do NOT want to find a long strand of his hair in between anywhere. 

I can’t decide on whether he has super sperm due to Jenova’s genes or if he’s infertile. Like it’s either one or the other to me and I feel like both make sense, but still can’t quite decide on one. He’d either be the type to have sperm so strong that even birth control couldn’t stop them, or he’d be infertile and no scientific method whatsoever could help. Who knows honestly.

[allthegothihopgirls]

Hc that Jason really resonated with Frankenstein’s monster after he came back from the dead and his terrorization of Bruce is, in part, inspired by the monsters terrorization of Victor

ok i'm gonna preface this by saying what the fuck anon (/pos). i've been talking about this concept since it popped into my inbox i'm actually OBSESSED.

clawing at the insides of my enclosure foaming at the mouth etc etc

anyways, 1000% YES. the whole thing of jason being put back together not only at the hands of another, but also in a way which is so so unfamiliar to the him he knew before death, soooo extremely frankenstein's monster-coded.

both brought to life by impossible circumstances, and neither feel as though they own their autonomy. searching for some kind of redemption, needing to feel complete or avenged.

both having a sense of justice, shunned by society, one which doesn't earn them praise but instead punishment and disgust. both resenting the decisions of their creators/mentors. torn between worlds, neither of which they feel accepted in. oh my GOD.

i'm a huge fan of the whole idea of jason coming back and feeling displaced and in an entirely foreign body, and that's just oh so frankenstein's monster..

like IMAGINE that being his frame of reference for his feelings. put together what feels like piece by piece, messily, with only second-hand scraps. all with no regard for the person he was before, only with the intentions of being 'repurposed'.. AHHHHH

(as well as the fact that it's ALL mental for jason, he comes back 'perfect', unscathed and replenished. he has no physical justification for feeling the way he does, second-hand and hand-sewn. his feeling of 'monstrosity' stems from elsewhere; the feeling he gets walking around in this body which is simply not his, or the look in bruce's eyes when he sees him again for the first time, seeing a monster not a son.)

also the conscious knowing that his make-up is no longer his own, he's composed of parts which are unrecognisable to his old body, the one he owned and hand-carved through age. having to walk through days, feeling his actions as his own, but having a body which warps the intent behind them to all onlookers.

god imagine, blaming your creator for your fate, and needing the answers of your inadequacy to come from him himself.. and no other source can explain your imperfection in a way you can accept, it has to be him. jason NEEDS bruce's validation, to confirm or deny that he is irredeemable and a lost cause.

as much as i don't think jason would take pride in relating so much to frankenstein's monster, it's definitely a lingering thought in the back of his mind, something that determines his own story and outcomes.

he thinks of him when he loses control, and knows that he can't use it to justify the way he acted. he cannot tell the monster that his actions were okay, and that the people just did not understand, although as much as he wants to.. because he knows that isn't the case. he knows the monster was always a monster, and grows to feel the same way about himself.

he resents the way he acts, because all he sees is the monster. the one who acts according to his moral compass, but is always wrong. always clouded by his monstrosity. he decides he really should never trust himself or his intuition, because it's always disgusting and ugly, and even he'll be able to look back in retrospect and be repulsed by the way he carried himself, and not hate the way everyone punished him for it.

he wants so desperately to get himself back, morph back into the boy who knew his rights and wrongs and was never looked at funnily for acting how any normal person would. but the only part of his past self that still exists is in his mind, he wants to rip it out and show people that it's still him inside of there, but he simply can't do that.

his body changed without his permission, he never asked to be an abomination, a scientifical anomaly. he wants to scream about how it's not his fault, how he's not what the world paints him to be. how he can just be normal. but he's never really going to feel that way, as long as his mind and body remain two separate entities at war.

i feel like he clings onto the humanity of frankenstein's monster, and uses him as an anchor, something that shows him it's possible to remain acceptable and human.

i also think he analyses the character oh so deeply, to try and latch onto all the relatability he can find, the things he doesn't get from real people.

maybe he has a copy of the book, annotated in such a personal way. perhaps someone else stumbles upon it, and is just so distraught by the conclusions drawn from the scribbles and highlights, the way jason seems to view himself.

the way that although jason's always seen himself like the monster, unloveable and unacceptable, everyone else was always ready to accept him.

that maybe the real downfall of jason and frankenstein's monster is that the way they viewed themselves was too focused on the displacement they felt, assuming automatically that everyone else must feel the same way about them, if not worse. not taking the moment to let people learn to love them all over again.

anyways, unreliable narrators post resurrection!jason todd and frankenstein's monster, who were always seen with at least an ounce of humanity, but were both overridden by self-hatred and the disgust of their form, which led them to total exile and isolation.

[jesterwriting]

empty inbox ya say? Don't mind if I show up!

So, I am a lover of the grumpy x sunshine kinda trope, but I want to hear your thoughts of crocodile having an caotic partner? Always having some kind of prank or stupid joke, just to see crocodile crack a smirk or something, but no matter how much they try, they always fail to so. So, after one day that the little sunshine tried so hard of trying they just pout around croc, and he just to try to cheer up his darling just a little, try to crack one of his own stupid joke just to see them laugh a little and go back into being his sunshine

(if you are not comfortable/don't find the prompt as entertaining, you can skip it tho, okay?)

pairing: crocodile x gn!reader

contents: established relationship, fluff, bad jokes, sunshine!reader, crocodile and his soft spot for you, he acts annoyed but hes entirely smitten i promise

word count: 1.1k words

note: OMG this was such a cute idea!! grumpy x sunshine is one of the best tropes ever, im such a sucker for it. im not particularly good at writing chaotic reader, though i definitely tried to make them quite silly. thank you so much for your request anon <33

playlist: dance the night by dua lipa

To an outsider, your relationship with Crocodile could, very easily, be one of the most confounding relationships one had ever seen. Of course, there had been more ill fitting partnerships out there, but you and Crocodile were close runners up. He was a large, intimidating man, with a harsh expression, and an even harsher tone. When he was displeased, his words alone were enough to rip apart an idiot’s flimsy confidence. Crocodile was a man of wealth and status. The only thing that ran deeper than the promise of violence, was the sand he was made of.

You, on the other hand, were the exact opposite. Bright and full of sunshine, you practically glowed against Crocodile’s side. With a smile so wide, it almost hurt to look at you. There was a softness to you that was absent in Crocodile. There had been more than one occasion where you were seen helping a wayward insect back outside, cupped gently against your palm, or offering directions to a lost couple who ran off in terror when your infamous husband approached. The crowd watched in horror when you scolded him with an elbow to the ribs. Crocodile did nothing but roll his eyes.

When you weren’t helping the lost, with your terrifying husband looming over your shoulder, you were a whirlwind of chaos. Prank after prank on unsuspecting visitors to the casino were done in your name. Nothing too egregious, you never aimed to harm, all you wanted was to make people laugh. A task you succeeded in, at least when you were alone. Crocodile’s unamused expression as he carted you away, laughing uproariously, did little for the mood.

It was only in the privacy of your shared abode did those pranks find a target in Crocodile. You respected your husband’s boundaries. Not once did you consider making a fool of him in public — not that it was your intention, you simply knew Crocodile well enough to know that was how he would take it — nor did you even consider any pranks that involved water. It was a damn shame. A bucket of water over the door was truly the prank of all time. Just imagining Crocodile, soaked to the bone, cigar wet and limp against his lips as he stared at you with such crushing annoyance, was enough to make you snicker out loud.

However funny it may be, your bits weren’t worth losing Crocodile’s trust. Such a thing was a rare gift from your husband, very few people alive had the honor to receive it. With a hint of pride, you considered the possibility that you were the only person alive to say that Crocodile felt safe enough to confide in them. Boy, if that didn’t make your heart absolutely swell.

Your only regret was, no matter how many jokes you played, you never got Crocodile to crack a smile. Even when you covered his desk with sticky notes — “Y/N, you realize you’re cleaning this up.” — or that stupid crank call you did a few weeks ago — “No, my refrigerator is not running, don’t call this number again.” — were not enough to get the barest huff of a laugh.

That was how you found yourself in Crocodile’s office, hanging upside down in the chair in front of his desk. It was normally reserved for when he had a private meeting, but today he was stuck doing paperwork. It was silent, save for the scribble of his pen against top secret documents you weren’t supposed to see, but would be able to look at with a single ‘please.’

“C’mon, you think I’m funny.”

Crocodile didn’t look up from his work as he responded, “I think you’re foolish.”

“Yeah, but I’m your fool.” Flipping around in your chair, you swung your legs over one arm and hung your head off the other. Boredom was not an uncommon foe during quiet afternoons with Crocodile. You needed near constant stimulation to keep yourself in check, and for all the reasons you loved him, Crocodile did, in fact, have a massive stick up his ass. “You’re a king and I’m your jingling little fool. Let me tell you a joke.”

Crocodile grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t tell you to stop. With a grin, you said, “Why did the egg hide?”

With a sigh, he dropped his pen to run a hand through his hair. “Why did the egg hide, Y/N?”

Patting a drumroll against your thighs, you paused for dramatic effect. Seconds passed in silence, save for your palms’ rhythmic song against your thighs, Crocodile’s eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper the longer you continued. Finally, you blurted,

“It was a little chicken!”

Crickets. Your husband didn’t even spare you a response before his pen was in his hand again, signing who knew what. With a roll of your eyes, you flopped from the chair and onto the floor. The carpet was soft against your palms.

“Okay, that was bad, but you could have at least said something.”

“You’re going to have to say something funny to get a response out of me,” Crocodile rumbled, not even bothering to glance at you while you laid on the floor.

This sucked. You could make everyone laugh, all except for the one who mattered to you the most. A part of you wondered why you didn’t give up. You were sure you were being at least a little annoying — though the smaller voice in your head reminded you that Crocodile was one to request time alone when he was in a bad mood.

“Fine. No more jokes, spoilsport.”

No response. Fine then, at least the floor was comfortable.

For the next twenty minutes, you kept yourself busy by counting ceiling tiles, or by fighting the urge to reach under Crocodile’s desk and steal his shoes. No more pranks, remember, you told yourself. Not until you stopped feeling like a big ol’ pile of poo, at least.

“How do you make a plumber cry?” Crocodile’s voice surprised you after going so long without hearing it. (It’d been thirty minutes, maximum, though it felt like an eternity)

You wet your lips before you responded, already feeling a giggle bubbling in your chest. “How?”

“Kill his family.”

You burst out laughing. Curling your fingers against the edge of the desk, you popped your head into his view, positively beaming. While Crocodile was never one for grandiose displays of emotion, he graced you with one of his rare, honest smiles.

“That’s more like it, doll.”

[avocado-writing]

notes: i did this instead of anything in my inbox. sorry but it overtook me and became much longer than I thought. also I wrote raphael as the little sub he is teehee.

relationships: raphael x reader; enver gortash & reader (platonic, parent & child); eventual enver gortash x tav

words: 4k

rating: E

summary: a warlock of Raphael's, you visit the House of Hope one day and find a child. he cannot remain there.

Your life, really, is fine. Maybe a bit empty. But fine.

You’ve had Raphael as your Warlock patron for a while now. It’s fine too, he’s fine, there are definitely worse devils to be indebted to - the fact he’s attractive isn’t so bad either. You started fucking a few years ago and he’s basically wrapped around your little finger at this point. He’s still annoying as all hells but he bottoms well enough and the two of you enjoy being on each other’s good side, so it works out. Mostly what he has you do is track down and kill people who’ve pissed him off - and a lot of people have pissed him off, he’s very piss off-able to be fair, so there’s always plenty of jobs and you come to the House of Hope often, in between the mercenary work you do to survive.

This time you just finished hunting down someone who tried to weasel out of their contract. Raphael had you bring him the man’s head as proof of your work, and then you made him give you head after. Par for the course nowadays.

You peel yourself out of Raphael’s embrace as he bathes in the afterglow of getting spoiled in bed by you. You throw on your pants, and go to grab a bite to eat. Your patron always has a feast ready. It’s something to keep his servants distracted with, the constant cooking and replacing of dishes, and it’s nice to never be hungry when you’re here. You saunter into the banquet room and go to pick up a fistful of grapes…

… pausing when you see something utterly fucking shocking.

A little boy. Making himself as small as possible, dark messy hair and darker sunken eyes, all curled up by the fire. He looks at you with terror and you yelp in surprise, grabbing a spare tablecloth to quickly cover yourself with.

“What the fuck?!” you manage, looking around for answers to the unasked question. Nobody is here to give you any. Fucking lost souls, never here when you need them. You turn back to the boy who looks utterly terrified. “Are you meant to be here?”

He visibly swallows, nervous, and nods. Okay, right, great. Kid in the middle of hell. Of course. You're about to find Raphael and give him a grilling, when you hear a little stomach rumble.

You freeze, raise an eyebrow. Almost impossibly he shrinks further into himself.

“Have you eaten, kiddo?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet your eyes. Oh, well, that won’t do.

You grab a plate and begin to load it up with food for him. He looks hopeful though he tries not to show it too much, as if you’ll punish him for the very idea of it. Gods it must have been torture for the child, sitting in front of a banquet with no invitation to gorge. 

When the plate is so full that it threatens to spill over, you squat down and put it in front of him. The boy stares at it for a long moment before looking up at you.

“Go on. Dig in.”

It’s all the permission he needs. He tears into the food you’ve presented as if he’s never eaten before. As if it is ambrosia. You watch him wolf down chicken thighs so fast that he threatens to choke on them, and you feel your heart ache at the wretched sight.

“This really isn’t a place for kids. What’s your name, lad?” you ask, absent-mindedly swiping some greasy hair out of his eyes. You wonder when was the last time he washed, poor kid. He flinches at your touch a little but doesn’t stop eating, somewhat aware you’re probably the first person he’s met here who doesn’t mean him harm. 

“Enver,” he says through mouthfuls of bread. You tell him your name in return, though you aren’t sure if he really listens.

“I didn’t say he could eat.”

Raphael’s voice cuts through the moment, severe, and the boy freezes mid-bite. Terror floods him. He begins to visibly shake.

Oh, no. No. You won’t be having that.

You speak aloud, voice firm.

“Well, I said he could. Ignore him, kiddo.” 

You stand and put yourself between your patron and the child. This little boy has no idea who you are, but he can sense that you have some sort of power over the demon who’s walked into the room. Timidly he continues his meal. When you’re satisfied you turn to your devil, thunderous.

“Raphael? A word.”

Your tone leaves no wiggle room. He harrumphs and follows you far out of the boy’s earshot, where you unleash your fury. 

“Why is there a fucking child here, Raphael?!” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, his parents sold him to me. Well, to one of my other warlocks, actually, so through the upline he’s mine.”

He speaks as if reading from the paper, not discussing a child’s life. Your blood boils. You want to slap him, but he’d just enjoy it.

“This is no place for… well, fucking anyone, let alone a literal kid. What were you thinking?!”

He shrugs. For a devil meant to be full of cunning, Raphael rarely actually thinks through his short-term impulses into long-term plans. 

“Torture him, I suppose.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you say, hand instinctively summoning your blade. Raphael narrows his eyes. 

“Be careful when you reach for your sword, warlock, lest you forget the person who gifted it to you.”

Fuck. Shit. What an arseache. Okay, you can’t go about this by violence, he’s right. You need to be cunning. You let yourself soften and approach him, laying your hands on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but allows you to caress him. 

“Raphael, come on. You really want a child hanging around here? He’s going to ruin all our fun. I was going to have you on the banquet table later. You don’t want me to ride you while feeding you slices of apple? You enjoyed it last time…”

Your devil huffs but softens under your touch. Gods he really is easy to manipulate when you know which buttons to press. 

“You’re really up in arms about him, aren’t you? Look, they gave him away for a reason. He’s not some sweet innocent. He’s a little bastard, as far as I’ve been told.”

“Please don’t do anything too harsh to him? For me? For your favourite warlock?” you ask, pouting, sliding down Raphael’s body to your knees, ready to nuzzle into his cock in exchange for his agreement. 

He sags, weak for you. Got him.

“Ugh. Fine, you win, kitten. Spoilsport,” he mutters, and you slip him out of his underwear.

The next time you see Enver, it’s been a couple of weeks. You’ve just finished up a hunt and are reporting in - but he’s the first thing you check on. You find him sweeping one of the hallways, eyeing a wailing lost soul warily. 

“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

He jumps a little, however he looks genuinely pleased to see you. Not enough for him to smile but at least some of the tension leaves him. 

“I’m alright,” he says quietly. He still looks sort of greasy. You’ll have to tell Raphael to let him bathe. 

“The boss been treating you okay?”

Enver nods. 

“Doesn’t really talk to me. Just tells me to do chores.”

Well that’s better than torture, you think. You reach into your pocket, root around for a bit, and hand something to him. His eyes go wide and then narrow in suspicion, and you have to reassure him that it’s not some sort of trick.

“Do you know what that is?”

“A sending stone,” he says, confidently, weighing the blue rock in his hand. You grin.

“Look at you! Clever kid. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. So I take it you know how they work?”

“Each holder can send a message of twenty-five words a day, and the other can reply with twenty-five. Total of fifty each.”

“Precisely! I’m giving this to you for if there’s an emergency, okay? If you’re in trouble, I want you to give me a message and I’ll get here as quickly as I can.”

He eyes the stone. It’s as if he can’t quite bring himself to believe that someone genuinely cares about his wellbeing.

“Why?” he asks, after a while. 

“Because you shouldn’t be down here, and Raphael can be an arsehole. But don’t worry, I can sort him out,” you say with a grin, and for the first time, Enver chuckles. You hear the sound of Raphael calling your name from down the corridor and you roll your eyes.

“Speak of the devil. Take care, Enver, alright? And remember, let me know if there’s a problem.”

He nods, tucking the stone into his pocket before you head off to tie your patron up.

You don’t hear from Enver for a week or so, but one day, when you’re on the road, you get a message coming through.

“Hello. It’s Enver. Are you having a good day?”

You look confused and reply, “Yeah, kiddo, I’m fine. Is there something the matter? Nobody’s hurting you, are they?”

Then, because it is the nature of the stone, you add: “If they are then you just say, I’ll come and set them straight.”

There’s a beat. You can imagine Enver considering his response.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to say hello.”

That’s as much communication as the day will allow but it hits you hard. Oh. He’s lonely.

And from that day on, you have a sort of penpal.

Enver messages you everyday without fail, always excited to see how you’ve been doing. He has very little to report, which you’re thankful for, because you live in fear that he will need to use the stone for its intended purpose. Occasionally he lets you know that Raphael has said something cruel or Haarlep is teasing him, and then it’s just a matter of heading to the hells and setting them straight. Haarlep is like a cat, difficult to make to do anything, but to be honest he’s your friend and will usually acquiesce after some teasing. Raphael is always a bit more difficult to persuade. He still sees the boy as his property, his thing to treat as he’d like, so you have to pull out all of your best tricks in order to convince him.

You always end up coming out on top, though. Funny that.

Your visits to the House of Hope get more regular. Enver greets you with smiles and then with laughs and then with hugs, and you find you’re growing fond of the kid. Every now and then you see a bit of the little bastard Raphael warned you of - you’ll catch him tormenting one of the damned souls down here, or attempting to trap and harass some sort of insect who accidentally crawled through one of the portals. But a soft but firm hand to turn him in the right direction is enough. He’s a boy with a bright future… if he’s nurtured.

And this place has no time for that.

You make the pitch to Raphael one night at the end of a long weekend in hell. You’ve been doing everything he’s asked of you, indulging his every whim, being ever so sweet and obedient for your master - and fucking him within an inch of his life. You relax in his bed, cuddled up to his chest, walking your fingers along the expanse of his pectorals.

“Raphael…” you say, dreamily, and he hums.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to push your luck?” he chuckles. You rearrange yourself to look up at him, eyes wide and wanting.

“Me? Push my luck? Never…” you run your tongue over his nipple and he groans.

“Spit it out then, kitten.”

“It’s the boy, Raphael. Can I have him? Please?”

He huffs.

“Why?”

“Why not? What does he do around here apart from take up space and eat your food? Surely you don’t really want him hanging around, do you? I’d like to be able to ride you and scream your name without the fear we’ll be overheard.”

Raphael considers this for a long time, and for a moment, you think he won’t take the bait.

“You’ll extend your pact with me. I want your soul. Forever,” he decides. 

Ah. That’s quite the price. You consider it for a moment.

“...You never get to interfere with Enver’s life again,” you reply, because this is how you deal with devils. Your bargain to gain their respect. He laughs.

“Fine. The boy is off the hook.”

“Done. And I get to take him out of here and do what I want with him, no questions asked. He’s free. And I’ll do that thing you like, right now.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Deal.”

The next morning, body aching, you read through your new contract. You make some amendments in blood but sign it. The rest of your existence signed over to this damned devil. Raphael kisses you on the lips, long and languid - and when you walk out of the House of Hope it’s with Enver’s hand in yours.

“Where are we going?” he asks, quietly. He’s scared. You squeeze his fingers in reassurance.

“Well, I’m on the road a lot. We’ll be travelling. Is that okay with you, kiddo?”

He nods, excited, and you can’t help but notice how much he’s grown since you first met. He’s more than a head taller - gods, how long has he been down here? It’s not worth thinking about. He’s still pretty skinny, but you’ll fix that. Now you’re in charge of feeding him, you'll make sure he gets a good meal every night. Make sure he walks with his back straight and chin up.

Make sure he never has to feel small again.

It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s a damn sight better than what he had to put up with in the Hells. He smiles now, every day. Isn’t scared of people. Slowly grows confidence in himself because he knows that you’re in his corner, come hell or high water (literally). One day you see him drawing in a little notebook you got him, some sort of diagram far more complicated than you can understand - he explains the intricacies of the machine, so you get him some spare parts to start tinkering with. Gods the kid is a natural. So intelligent. Far smarter than you, and you’re worried you’re letting him down because you can’t keep up - but every time he shows you a new invention he seems so pleased when you compliment him.

“Look at you, kiddo! You’re amazing! I bet there’s nothing that you can’t do.”

And he looks like for the first time in his life that he believes what you’re saying.

Life isn’t easy, but it is worth living. You’re on the road more often than not. You don’t have a home to call your own, but you make sure your mercenary work is well-paid enough that you can put the two of you up in inns overnight, keep you both fed and entertained. Enver seems happy and that’s what matters.

You go back to the House of Hope as little as you can, now, reporting in when you do a job and fucking Raphael into submission. He asks you about the boy every once in a while and you palm him off with a laugh, acting as if you barely care about Enver rather than the truth: you’ve been actively putting money away towards a fund for his future.

You come back from one of your meetings late one night. You’re exhausted from what your patron has put you through and are looking forward to sleep. The portal opens into the inn you’ve booked for the night. You expect Enver to be dead to the world, but instead he’s wide awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing up so late? Is everything okay?” you ask, surprised. Enver fidgets with his fingers.

“Does Raphael hurt you?” he blurts out. You’re shocked.

“What?”

“Do you want to be in a contract with him? Because if you don’t, I promise I’ll find a way to free you, like you freed me! I’ll get strong, really strong, and I’ll kill him for you.” His hands are balled into fists, jaw gritted. His eyes are dark in a way that’s troubling and he drops his gaze to his lap.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where’s all this coming from? Kiddo, nothing is wrong. Everything between me and Raphael is fine. I’m not unhappy or being forced into anything, I promise. What’s the matter, Enver, eh?”

When he looks up at you, there are tears pooling. He launches himself into your arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if you’re his anchor to this plane.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I love you…” and then there it is. He calls you ‘mum’, or ‘dad’, or some other word that settles what you already knew: he’s come to think of you as his parent now. He freezes when he hears himself say it and you think back to when he was that scared little boy, longing for a bit of food by the fireplace.

You hold him back.

“I love you too, son,” you tell him, and the two of you stay like that for a long while.

He asks if his last name can become yours. You introduce him as your child. You are a family. 

You’re right. He’s far smarter than you are, and you can’t keep up with him. It becomes more and more obvious as he gets older. He goes from brilliant teenager to incredible young man, and you’re glad that you have the funds to be able to send him to a good college and nurture his spark. You’re aware that you’re beginning to slow down a bit now. Your joints aren’t quite what they used to be, and though Raphael still covets you, he’s not oblivious to the fact that you’re getting on. His contracts for you become less vigorous. He likes to have you in his bed more than on the field. You don’t mind it, being pampered by your patron. It isn’t a bad life.

Enver doesn’t need to become Gortash. And what use has Bane for this man, this good man, this man who has made something of himself despite all of the odds stacked against him? None whatsoever. He never becomes the chosen of Tyranny. He is safe from the person he might have been.

The day he graduates at the top of his class is the proudest day of your life. You clap and cheer for him until you are hoarse, and he pretends to be embarrassed as you give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek in front of all of his friends, every inch the glowing parent.

He becomes chancellor because of his own merits, not due to any underhanded trickery. He is a master when it comes to machines. He never invents the Steel Watch because he does not have the warped mind to create them. Instead he focuses on technology to help the city of Baldur’s Gate: cleaning machines, security automatons, things which help with the admin of running to place so those in government can focus on supporting Baldurites. 

He buys you a house in the upper city. You settle down there as you grow older, make friends, get plenty of visits from your son. Everyone knows how loved you are. He eventually hires a young woman named Karlach as a bodyguard who you grow fond of: she makes up in brawn what he lacks, and she always puts a smile on your face when you have the two of them around for tea.

The Absolute comes. Raphael is poking around because of course he is. He’s got some new toys by now but you’re still one of his old favourites, and a couple of his most loved tricks with your tongue mostly keep him out of the way. Plus he promised not to interfere in Enver’s life, and he’s bound by that, the tricky bastard.

Some other person is Bane’s chosen, but it is not your Enver. Instead he fights for the side of good against the Dead Three and the mindflayer invasion, an ally to this Tav, the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Through their trials the two of them end up falling in love and it’s all you could ever want for your son. When the city fights against the Elder Brain you pick up your pact weapon for the last time despite his pleas not to: you’re a Warlock, damn it, and you’re going to defend your home until your last breath.

You don’t die, which is a nice bonus.

Enver and Tav help rebuild the city once the invasion has been stopped. Not too long in the future you have grandchildren, and they are the light of your life, always silly and giggling and joyous to hear the remarkable stories from your mercenary years.

You help out where you can but your age is weighing on you. One day, you take a tumble, and suddenly you’re bedbound; Enver and your family are visiting you every day as you get weaker, and you know that your final days can’t be far off.

He sits at your bedside, your hand clamped in his. Ah, a workman’s hand. The hand of a man who is constantly inventing and working and making himself useful. The hand of a good and decent man.

“The little ones go back to school tomorrow,” he says, fondly, “Tav is relieved. They’ve been rushed off their feet during the holidays– so many years since that Absolute business, yet the legislation is still going. They need a break, really.”

“It’s exhausting being a parent, isn’t it?” you ask with a grin, before being interrupted by a rattling cough which you can’t seem to shake. Enver lifts a glass of water to your lips and you drink, thankful. “Eurgh. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’ll call the doctor again in the morning, see if she can get you any more of that tincture. Or maybe Halsin might have some ideas…”

“Oh, Enver, don’t go through all that fuss for me. Just sit here with me, kiddo.”

When you call him that, he knows he has no choice. You are still his parent, after all. He shifts to make himself more comfortable in his bedside chair, never letting go of your hand.

“I want you to know,” you say, voice soft, “everything has been worth it, Enver. My whole life was made better because you were my son. You’re the thing that I’m most proud of.”

His eyes go wide and glass over with tears, jaw grits.

“I… don’t say things like that, please,” he says, because he’s scared of what will come after.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here.”

He rests his head on the side of the bed, and you can see his shoulder heave as he cries. You bury your hand in his hair, smiling when it’s still a little greasy, and then you close your eyes.

When you open them again you’re in the House of Hope.

Your body feels lighter than it has in decades. You look down to see the wrinkles and liver spots in your hands are gone. You’re wearing what can generously be called an outfit, though it’s more straps of leather criss-crossed over your body.

“Well, did you have fun? Was your deal worth it in the end?” Raphael asks. He’s leaning against the doorframe, swirling wine around in a glass in his hand, another held out to you. You take it and frown.

“Were you… were you just standing here, waiting for me to bloody die?” you ask. He harrumphs.

“You didn’t answer my question, kitten.”

You take the wine, quaff it, then pull him into a kiss. He moans into your mouth in surprise and rapture.

“Yes,” you answer, honestly, because it was worth it. You’d never have made a different choice, “now, are we going to bed, or are you just going to stand here being smug for the rest of eternity?”

Raphael grins and pulls you to the bedroom.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[keirawantstocry]

Tubbo kidnapped to the purgatory, brainwashed and now amnesiac, sent to terrorize quesadilla island and feds, being very flabbergasted and somewhat interested in one couple, that keeps flirting with them(this is me wanting sexy villain Tubbo and fitpac thirsting over him)

okay I know this has been sitting in my inbox for a whileeee and tia I am sorry but every time I tried to write something for it I immediately hated it. but now with recent lore I've had an idea that I hope i can bring to fruition. Im sorry its so unlike what you asked :( i did my best

 

Tubbo wasn't sure where he was. Who he was. All he could remember was a name. Where was that buzzing coming from? Belatedly he realized it was himself. Something robotic, something keeping him awake. 

He opened his eyes. There were soft sheets around him. Where had he respawned? He began to panic as he tried to search his mind for any memories. 

His name was Tubbo. The whirring was keeping him alive. But he wasn't alive. It was contradictory but it was all he knew. 

Tubbo sat up and took a long look at himself and his surroundings. His arm was clearly robotic albeit covered in flesh. He wasn't sure how he knew it was robotic. 

The sheets were dark green. He could feel the texture through his fingers. They were robotic. How could he feel the texture? 

The room was bare. Deafening silence. Almost as if to prove his hypothesis wrong the door clicked and swung open to reveal three people. Tubbo did not know who they were but their jaws dropped at the sight of him. 

They knew who he was. 

Two of them collapsed on the bed with him, pinning him back down.

"Tubbo!!" the dark haired one said, curling against him, hands gripping his body tightly. The other one on top of him was a small child. A girl with curly hair and a wide thankful grin. She tugged his arm over and over. (Couldn't she feel the metal? the lack of life?) 

The stoic one watched them from the end of the bed. He was tall, intimidating. Something about him was unnerving. 

The hands on his body were so warm. His stomach was rolling. What the fuck was this? 

"Tubbo," the dark haired one said again, tucking his face against the man's neck. (Couldn't he feel the lack of a heartbeat?) "We've missed you." 

"It's good to see you," the stoic one said, his voice low and raspy. It sparked something in Tubbo's brain but he couldnt put his finger on it. The dark haired man sat up, his hands still on Tubbo's arm. He was smiling so big and Tubbo's chest felt strangely warm like someone had lit a fire inside his mechanics. 

"Who are you?" he said, his voice barely there. 

Their faces dropped. 

"Pa?" the little one signed. 

He stared at her. This was his daughter? Impossible. He wasn't alive and she was so alive. He could hear his little heart nearly beating out of her chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Who… who are you?” 

“Pac,” the dark haired man said softly. “My name is Pac. This is Fit,” he said, gesturing to the dark haired man. “And the little girl is your daughter, Sunny.” 

“What do you remember?” Fit asked. Without sounding cheesy the name fit him. Tubbo didn’t know why he felt so familiar. 

“Nothing,” Tubbo said softly. 

The two men exchanged a glance as the little girl continued to cling to him. 

“What do you know?” Fit pressed stepping closer to the bed, his hand gently joining the one Pac had on his arm. 

“I know…” Tubbo said hesitantly. “That my name is Tubbo.” 

“And that’s all?” Fit continued to press. 

Tubbo nodded. 

Pac let out a long sigh. “It’s okay. We will stick by your side until you remember us.” 

[film-in-my-soul]

the shoulders of a gentleman | 789 | finkpishnets / @madroxed

Summary: Billy’s perfectly aware that the only reason he keeps dragging himself out of bed at six in the morning on the weekends is because of Teddy Altman.

Simple Transactions | 1,250 | abp / @ferretrade

Summary: You can meet people anywhere--even at the bank.

Like the Change of Season | 1,521 | riko

Summary: Winter is particularly harsh this year. A scene from a hypothetical AU.

Magnetism | 1,839 | heartslogos / @heartslogos

Summary: They're like magnets pushing against each other. A pair of invisible forces colliding and holding each other up.

(See more recommendations below!)

In Sickness | 1,984 | Solarcat / @solarcat

Summary: Billy Kaplan frowned as his fingertips hit the cardboard bottom of the tissue box. That was not good. It could, in fact, constitute an emergency of epic proportions.

I Don't Care What You Think (As Long as it's About Me) | 2,436 | ambitiousbutrubbish / @unclebabybilly

Summary: “Why don’t you think Tommy’s hot?” Billy sort of shouts, and judging by the look on Teddy’s face, that had come out a bit more accusatory and hurt than Billy had intended. Also, he’s pretty sure he leapt over the line from ‘flirty self-deprecation to get your boyfriend to tell you you’re cute’ straight into just plain ‘creepy’. Fortunately - or unfortunately, as has been the case in the past - Billy is a pretty devoted practitioner of the principle of ‘go big or go home’, and he sets his jaw firm.

Enchanted | 2,829 | akaparalian / @floralegia

Summary: Billy wouldn’t be here, because Billy hates school dances, but his mom had chastised and nagged and chased him out the door with threats to call teachers to make sure he actually went, after giving him some psychologist-babble about how participating in social events, such as school dances, was crucial to emotional development in teenagers, but you know, it was fine, because he’d sit in whatever his new school’s version of the Nerd Corner was and he’d be okay.

Let Us Too Yield | 6,576 | takadainmate / @takadainmate

Summary: Trapped and hurt, all Billy wants is to protect Teddy. And maybe come out of this alive.

J. Haydn - Hob I:96 - Symphony No. 96 in D major (The Miracle) | 8,598 | ambitiousbutrubbish / @unclebabybilly

Summary: Really, Teddy's only orchestral goal is to stay well away from all that String DramaTM. Falling for their harpist literally at first sight was probably not conductive to the plan.

All Who Are Hungry | 8,943 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: Teddy and Tommy are staying at the Kaplans' place for now, but they haven't really considered the meaning of being adopted into a large Jewish family. ~A seder teaches them the true meaning of Pesach~ (Insert holiday cliche of your choice here). Shenanigans, horseradish, matzah and fluff ensue.

Look Where We Land | 11,742 | riko

Summary: Teddy has always privately thought they had something special. Something worth listening to.

For the Love of Dog | 11,750 | ApolloAttraction / @apolloattraction

Summary: Billy’s depression has been getting the better of him lately, so Tommy gives him a dog to foster. Billy doesn’t really know how a dog is supposed to help, but things do start looking up right around the time he takes her to the pet store and meets the cute cashier.

Genesis / In the Beginning | 23,182 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: The realization was as awful as it had been slow-building, loud enough now that he couldn’t force himself to ignore it any longer. Maybe it wasn’t Teddy who was the asshole.

Lazy Sunday | 1,016 | Lady_Ganesh

Summary: Billy and Teddy hang out. Pre-series. Written for mixe for Yuletide 2007.

bombs over manhattan | 1,230 | constellatory

Summary: Post-Civil War, pre-Children's Crusade. There's a special kind of terror reserved only for that moment when you see someone you love go down, and you're not sure they're getting back up.

Making Up Is Hard To Do | 1,299 | lilpocketninja (Banah) / @banahbanah

Summary: Sometimes, Teddy is an idiot. This is one of those times. (For the prompt "first fight -- making up.")

Tonight | 1,617 | minumi / @minumi-chan

Summary: Tonight something is different. Although, it’s very hard to identify why exactly that is when your boyfriend is intent on kissing all sense out of you.

peace on distant stars | 2,009 | sister_wolf

Summary: Billy isn't sure what the Young Avengers are even doing here, in the middle of a superhero civil war.

can we get a drumroll, please | 2,227 | hulklinging

Summary: You can take the nerds out of band class, but you can't take the band out of the nerds. You can, however, take them on a crazy ride to rock star status. Teddy's still feeling a little winded.

These Are Your Shoes | 2,369 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Billy and Teddy live in each other's pockets, basically.

The Final Move | 2,455 | fontech / @akaikit

Summary: Fic request: Cris asked for Teddy's thoughts on discovering that he's an alien. A Teddy introspective on the death of his mother, and the questions of his identity left unanswered.

Definitely Not Good | 2,648 | Sheeana

Summary: Billy hurts himself. Teddy is not (very) amused. A couple days in the lives of a couple superheroes.

Sketch Me A Text | 2,764 | aconitemare / @aconitemare

Summary: Billy made a strangled noise and grabbed his pencil, drawing some random lines in his sketchbook while he gathered his composure. Cassie leaned toward Billy’s ear. “I think he heard you.” “Don’t worry, that has definitely been noted and filed under Reasons I’m Never Leaving My House Again Ever,” Billy assured.

Four Eyes | 2,939 | Xander_The_Undead / @xandertheundead

Summary: Billy wore glasses, and Teddy had no idea why this new discovery made him so excited.

International Diplomacy | 2,984 | DangerousCommieSubversive / @dangerouscommiesubversive

Summary: The delegation from the Kree and Skrull Empires has arrived, and Prince William is ordered by his aunt to keep the visiting Prince Dorrek entertained. Somehow.

We Don't Put Our Hands Over Our Mouths | 3,324 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Billy has never had good impulse control. Something pops into his head and he generally just says it, or does it - joining a super-team, anyone? - before he actually thinks about whatever he's doing might mean. So far he's managed to mostly avoid making a complete idiot of himself through some crazy combination of snarkiness and luck. But this time he's not so sure.

Love is Like Falling | 3,487 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: Teddy reached down and took Billy’s hand, threading their fingers together. The warm, gentle grip immediately derailed his words, his brain. “Sure,” Teddy said, squeezing Billy’s hand. “That sounds cool.” “Cool,” Billy breathed. “Cool.” “Cool.” Teddy squinted at him. “Are you secretly a Buffybot stuck on some kind of programming loop?” Billy snorted, turning his face to press his forehead against Teddy’s arm. When he breathed, his lungs were filled with the incredible scent of him. “No,” he said. “Shut up, I’m just having a spaz.” “Oh, well, in that case.”

Redefining Normal | 3,510 | Tangerine / @atangeriner

Summary: Normal is overrated.

A Little Like Mutant Manifestation | 3,886 | howlikeagod / @eternalgirlscout

Summary: Billy pulls back a little (normal), and grins down at Teddy. His face is flushed (normal), his hair is a godawful mess (completely normal), and Teddy wants him to take his clothes off (not normal at all). That desire slams into him like a semi-truck and leaves him gasping. He’s lived his whole life a little too aware of where his eyes catch, on the lips and hands of other boys, where his thoughts wander to kissing and holding in the darkest corners he can find. It’s never been more than that.

On Responsibility | 4,501 | natcat5 / @natcat5

Summary: It’s about responsibility, and being held accountable for your actions. He doesn’t have to tell Teddy, doesn’t have to tell anyone because- Because- It wasn’t like a suicide suicide attempt. He wasn’t- it wasn’t because- He was just trying to fix what he had broken. Clean up the mess that he had made. Take responsibility.

The Common Issue | 4,833 | riko

Summary: Billy has feelings about civil procedure, the firm's new junior associate, and the fact that his co-workers are all nuts, and he isn't thinking about any of them.

Scenes From A Teen Life | 5,252 | Etharei / @etharei

Summary: He's never been in this space before: broad daylight, his cheek throbbing, clothing dirty from the street, and at the same time floating, skin thrumming like he's using magic; hopelessly, helplessly happy. In which Billy Kaplan, against all expectations and documented statistics, has a boyfriend.

One More Bad Excuse | 5,323 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: Life is full of changes. Losing his mother was one, losing his home was another. Teddy can't begin to cope with the idea that he might be losing Billy, too.

Who Can Retell (the things that befell us) | 6,297 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: Or, one Christmas that Billy and Teddy didn’t spend together, and five that they did.

Monsters of Men | 8,873 | takadainmate / @takadainmate

Summary: "Get up," he said, and his voice sounded muffled and distant and for a long time Teddy stared at him, trying to work out what he meant. They had nowhere to go. There was no point in going anywhere. They were alone here and no one was going to save them. No one could save them.

Our Lives Lead Other Lives | 10,045 | riko

Summary: "Those things Billy's learned to bundle up tightly, keep compact and hidden so far down that even he forgets they're there sometimes. The gay thing is one. The being bullied at school is another. Now the spellcasting, shooting lightning from his fingertips, and fighting evil are rounding out the roster."

The Shelter Rule | 10,890 | orphan_account

Summary: Teddy’s life consists of a couple bags of clothes, a bed at the youth shelter, a therapy group run by his case manager, and two very dead parents. At least, until he switches schools. Then, Teddy’s life grows exponentially.

All Grown Up and Still Don't Know What (or; Billy Kaplan's Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Life) | 14,233 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Everything cycles back around into powers, his new powers. Powers that, by the feel of it, Billy’s really only scratched the surface of. But powers that he thinks could really do some actual good, on the right team. Assuming he doesn’t blow anything up with his mind by then.

Mine | 1,415 | isengard / @goulets

Summary: You are the best thing That’s ever been mine.

The Things I Am Doing (Instead of The Things That Should Be Done) | 1,541 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Normally there's classes, work, citizens to be saved from dimension-ripping monsters with tentacles bursting from their eyes and venom dripping from several sets of extra ears. That, or Kate's endless charity functions, in both official and unofficial capacity. But not this morning. This morning there's just them; them, a bed cozy and warm with body heat, and time.

The Problem with Planning | 2,238 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Billy really doesn't want to hate his friends, he loves his friends, but he wishes that for once, just once when he and Teddy shut Teddy's door it wasn't banging open again before they'd even crossed to Teddy's narrow bed. He'd love them a whole lot more easily if they could understand the concept of 'personal time'.

Birthday Boy is King | 3,203 | tekowrites

Summary: Teddy/Billy, for Teddy’s birthday Billy decides on a little body modification present, the problem though is not letting anyone find out about it.

Fire in the Blood | 3,385 | youngavengersbigbang

Summary: Teddy was so close he was practically whispering in the shell of the man’s ear. Billy watched, transfixed, as one big hand slid into the neat fold of his pewter gray suit and pulled out a straight razor. The handle was mother of pearl. The little blade shown like a mirror, giving a whispered shhht as Teddy opened it into a wide, gleaming smile.

Maybe Everything Returns | 7,321 | riko

Summary: There are 3058 miles between them, and Teddy can feel every one.

whatever's living will yourself become | 7,816 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: The trouble with shape-shifting is that so often the shape seems to shift more than you do. It changes day to day, moment to moment, and every time you shift to fit it you're one step behind.

Alms in Autumn | 13,861 | aud_k

Summary: In which a fairy reluctantly dons the mantle of “prey,” a golden-haired prince leads a ritual hunt, and a November dawn chases away more than just the night’s shadows. There are many ways to die, and some of them, William discovers, are smaller—and luckier—than others.

Work In Progress | 20,912 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: Wherein Billy is a Steve/Tony fanfic writer, Teddy is a fanartist, online relationships are confusing, and NYCC is coming.

*True Colors | 34,093 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: Growing up queer can be tough, even in New York. Lucky for them, there's a place upstate they can go every summer to meet new friends, let loose, and know they are not alone. Welcome to Camp True Colors.

*this fic also heavily includes the Steve/Bucky ship

2024 Reclists · INBOX · Blog Updates

[hellowhisperingstars]

I See you

Summary: Maisie has a bad day at daycare and you talk to Steve and Robin about your worries.

Pairing:  Ghost!Eddie Munson x Mommy!Reader x Psychic!Daughter

Words: 5K

Warnings: 18+, no y/n used, fluff, angst, ghosts, cussing, bullying, mentions of things from S4. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Part two! This one is still sad, so I apologize for that! Let me know what you think and please let me know if you have any requests! My inbox is open!

You can find more of my stories on my Stranger Things Masterlist!

You can also read this series on AO3!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

That night you had a long conversation with Maisie about her dad and how he passed in an accident. You never want your little girl to know the terrors of the Upside Down so you danced around the subject. When she’s older… way older… like fifty, maybe then you’ll tell her. 

You also asked her to not let anyone else know that Eddie was still around and to be extra careful about talking to him in public. The town didn’t need to know that she was special. You didn’t want anyone to look at her the way they looked at Eddie. Plus, you were already a social pariah because you had a child out of wedlock in a small town. Not to mention she was the child of the so-called “cult leader” who everyone believes destroyed the lives of half the town. You knew he wasn't, his friends and family knew he wasn't but you still explained to Maisie that people will say mean things about her daddy but she shouldn't listen to them. They didn’t know him. 

But her dad was a hero. 

It's been at least a week since she dropped the 'your late boyfriend was haunting your house and he wants his Garfield mug' bomb and to say you were on edge was a little too on the nose.

You didn't know what to do. You had never raised a child before and for that kid to be a psychic, well that was just the tip of the iceberg. Both of you were learning how to walk down this path you were on, you just hoped the ground didn't fall out from under you as you went. 

It took a bit of fighting with yourself but you were finally able to muster up the courage to talk to Steve and Robin about this while Maisie was in daycare. Pushing the door open you looked around the Family Video for your two friends, usually one of them was at the front. Over the years they had been promoted to Manager and Assistant Manager so they ran the place now that Keith was gone. “Hello? Guys?”

The sound of crashing tapes caught your attention, a quiet “Oh shit..” was heard as Steve muttered to himself. Your head snapped to the right as you slowly started to move around the rental counter towards the horror section. 

“Welcome to Family Vide- oh! Hey!” He smiled as he walked out of the aisle and over to you engulfing you in a hug before he stepped back to look at you. When he noticed your pensive look his smile fell and he got worried. “What happened? Why aren't you at work? Is Maisie okay?”

“Maisie's fine.” You say holding your hand up. “I took the day off. But there is something about her I need your help with... Where is Robin?” 

Looking at his watch Steve frowned. “She’s on her break. Went to grab some coffee. Should be back soon.” 

“Cool,” You said, with a nod. Moving towards the counter you leaned against it. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as he went around the counter to lean on it next to you. 

“It’ll be easier if I tell you both at the same time.” You mumbled turning when the bell above the door rang. Hoping it was Robin you looked over your shoulder only to come face to face with Mrs. Cunningham who was sneering at you. Slowly you stood up and moved away from the counter so she could return her videos, licking your lips you wandered over to the kids section looking for anything Maisie would be interested in watching. She really liked The Little Mermaid.

Maisie sat alone on the swing set of her daycare, her little Mary Janes kicking the sand below her to make a small pile. She didn't like daycare. She was alone a lot and none of the other kids wanted to be her friend. Plus the old lady inside was mean. Looking up she glanced at the window of the building to see the stern looking old woman staring back at her. Maisie didn’t understand why she didn’t like her, she always left some of her lunch and her afternoon snack for her when the other kids didn’t, always made space for her at the table so she could join them when they colored. All the other kids didn’t seem to even notice her which confused Maisie since the lady was always there. She asked Miss Britney about her once but she told her that there was no lady.

Maisie looked over her shoulder when she felt a cold set of hands on her back giving her a gentle push on the swing. 

“Hey kiddo,” Eddie said as he smiled down at her.

“Hi. Mommy said I can’t talk to you outside of the house.” She muttered as she looked at the ground again kicking her legs out as he pushed her back again so she could go higher.

“Yeah, your moms smart like that.” He said as he pushed her once more. Looking over his shoulder at the other kids making sandcastles in the sandbox he turned back to her. “Why aren’t you playing with the other kids?”

“They don’t like me.” She shrugged with a sad pout. “They say mean things.”

“Well don’t listen to them okay,” He said as he moved to lean on the pole of the set as she swung back and forth. “You’re worth a hundred of them.”

“Mommy said you were my daddy.” 

“Well, your mom doesn't lie.”

“Why can't she see you?” Maisie asked as she looked up at him as she continued to kick her legs back and forth. Going higher and higher.

“I don't know, bug.” Eddie shrugged as he watched her. “Don’t go too high. I can’t catch you if you fall out here.”

Or maybe he could…Nah, better not test it, it took a lot of energy just to push her on the swing. 

Giving a quiet okay she let her legs dangle as she started to slow down. The two of them sat in silence for a while, Eddie watching her from his spot leaning against the swing set. It was strange to know that he had a daughter, that she was sitting on this swing. He was so proud of you for bringing this little girl into the world, but he was also incredibly sad he couldn’t be here to help you raise her like he wanted too. Glancing up at the school he narrowed his eyes at the old lady in the window for a moment as she glared at Maisie, you would think she would be more polite to the only living person that could see her. He watched her for a few more minutes until the daycare attendant walked from the building as she looked at her watch. 

“Time to come inside!” Miss Britney called as all the other kids started running to her. Giving a quick headcount she looked up and waved her hand giving the little girl a smile. “Maisie! Come on!” 

“Watch this daddy!” She said as she jumped from the slow moving swing landing in the sand about a foot in front of where she was before.

“Woah!” Eddie laughed as he followed her towards the house. “You're cooler than I am. You know that?”

Maisie giggled as she ran to the group and walked into the house. Turning she smiled at Eddie as he followed them inside. 

The old lady glared at him. “You're not supposed to be here. You take that devil child and get.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her his protective side coming out. No one was going to pick on her when he was around. Alive or dead. "Don't you dare call her that. She's just a kid, my kid. So if you have anything nasty to say you say, you say it to me, got it you old hag?”

The woman huffed in indignation before she disappeared. She'd be back. She was the old owner of this home before it was turned into the daycare, not like she could go anywhere. Eddie knew it was rude but he didn’t like the lady. Turning he gave Maisie a little wink as she sat down to color and he sauntered over to the long bench of cubies to perch on top of it. He'd be right here in case she needed him.

Once Mrs. Cunningham left you peaked around the shelf to see Steve glaring at her back as she walked to her car. 

“Why don't you ever stick up for yourself?” Steve asked, looking over at you. “What happened to Chrissy wasn't yours or Eddie's fault. It was Vecna.”

“Do you really think anyone would believe me? Trust me if I had the money I would just leave this place and never come back. But I don't want to leave you guys or take Maisie away from Wayne. She's all he's got.” 

Sighing, Steve gave you that look that said you were being stubborn. 

“No need to rock the boat when the boat's already capsized. I'm just the girl who dated the devil, remember?” 

The bell rang again and Robin walked in. “They didn't have any mocha so I got you vanill- hey!”

“Hey Robs.” You waved with a small smile. 

“I just saw Mrs. Cunningham walk out… you okay?” She asked as she handed Steve his coffee and leaned on the same side of the counter as you.

“Yeah. She just glared.” You wave it away. No point in being upset about it. 

“Great, now that Robins here you can tell us what's up with Maisie.” Steve said as he took a sip of his too hot coffee. He made a face when he burnt his tongue. 

“Is she okay? Is she hurt? Sick? I can run to the store to get her medicine if you need me too.” Robin asked quickly. Maisie was the first baby of the group and the need to protect her was strong in everyone. This little girl sure did have a lot of loving Aunts and Uncles. It made your heart swell. 

“She's fine.” You soothed, taking a breath you looked at them both. “But I think Maisie's a psychic.”

“She's what?” Steve blinked, rolling his sore tongue on the roof of his mouth to try and get the pain to stop. It didn't help.

“Psychic.”

Steve gave you a confused face as he looked between you and Robin. “You think she's… crazy?”

“That's psycho dingus.” Robin said, rolling her eyes at him. “Mai is like El or something.” 

“So she has powers?” 

You shrugged a little bit. “Well, she doesn’t have telepathy or anything like that. She's a medium. She can see and talk to ghosts.”

“But, I mean she's four… it could just be her imagination. Like an imaginary friend.” Steve said, taking another drink of his coffee.

“An imaginary friend who is named Eddie and looks just like her dead dad?” You argued as you looked up at him.

Steve choked on his coffee. You watched him sputter as he tried to breathe. “E-eddie?”

“That's what she said.” Wiping at your tired eyes you looked sadly at them. “She knew things that I never told her. Like that I called him Teddy. The jerk even opened every cabinet and drawer in my kitchen because he wanted that damn Garfield mug at his Uncle's. Twice now.”

“Did you or Wayne ever say anything about him in passing?” Robin asked as she fiddled with her coffee lid. “Maybe she picked up on something, you know? Or seen a photo?”

You shook your head. “No, we are very careful about what we say right now. She's already getting hate for being his kid. We don't want her being a bigger target for the town to go after cause she won't stop talking about him. I only told her that his name was Eddie after she mentioned he said she could call him Teddy. I have one photo in my room of him but it's at the top of a shelf that she can’t see."

“Can you… see him?” Steve asked quietly. Weirder things have happened here in Hawkins. “Eddie… I mean?”

You shook your head and looked down at the counter pushing a box of Mike and Ike’s across the counter. You would give anything to see him again. “No. Just Maisie. She described him perfectly, you guys. She told me about his hair and that damn green vest he was wearing when he died. Is this my fault? I didn’t know I was pregnant when we went into the Upside Down. Do you think the spores we were breathing did this?” 

Robin and Steve looked at each other before they both sorta shrugged. Steve crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned on the counter closer to you. “I don’t know. But I know it’s not your fault. This might not have anything to do with the Upside Down, it might just be a Maisie thing.”

Nodding you sighed leaning your forehead against the counter top. A Maisie thing… 

After your talk with Steve and Robin you tried to go about your day like normal, grabbed some groceries, a coffee, and when the time came you picked up Maisie from her daycare. 

She wasn't her normal bouncy self when she ran over to you. Her arms going around your neck as you pulled her into a hug. “Hi baby. Have a good day?”

Shaking her head she shoved her face into your neck as you held her close. 

“What's wrong? What happened?” Looking up at Britney as she walked over to you both. “What happened?”

“We had a little incident today.” Britney said as she gave you a sad smile. “I walked away to change one of the smaller kids and one of the boys called Maisie something mean and they got into a fight. Maisie has a few scratches but she gave that boy a black eye.” 

“What did he say?” You asked, trying to keep in your anger as you pulled Maisie away from your neck to check on her. She was a little banged up, nothing that wouldn't heal in a day or two. Her eyes were a little red around the edges from her crying.

Britney hesitated a bit before she took a deep breath. “He said his dad told him that her dad was a murder and that you were a witch... He also said that she was a freak, and his dad said he should stay away from her.”

Anger boiled hotter under your skin as you looked around for a kid with a black eye so you could give his parents a matching set. “Where are they? I would like to talk to them.”

“They're already gone.” She said holding her hands out to soothe you. “I told them that since he started the fight that he wasn't allowed back for the rest of the week. He needs to learn that he can't speak to someone that way. But in turn… Maisie is also suspended for the rest of the week since she hit him.”

“Shit…” You mutter, pulling her close to you again. You have to go back to work tomorrow. Would Hopper mind if she came with? You could have her color at your desk... or one of the teens could watch her… “Okay. I’ll.. I'll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry.” Britney frowned. “She can come back next week.”

“See you next week..” Sighing, you picked Maisie up and started towards your car. Maybe Wayne could take her since he has days off… no he needs to sleep since he hasn’t been able to switch to the day shift yet. Once at your car you helped Maisie into her seat you crouched down next to the car so you could be almost eye to eye with her. “Are you okay baby?”

Sniffling Maisie nodded her head as she looked down at her hands. 

Nodding, you brushed your hand over her head and gave her a quick kiss to the forehead before you closed her door and got into the driver's seat. Pulling away from the old house you turned on her favorite cassette and made your way through town towards home. It didn’t take you long to get back to Forest Hills and as you pulled into a spot by your house you looked back at Maisie through the rearview mirror to see her looking out her window, her breathing a little fast. “You see something?” 

She nodded her head and looked away from whatever she saw, “She has a scary face.”

“It’s okay,” You soothed as you unbuckle your belt. You were trying really hard not to freak out so you didn't panic her. Sometimes her sight scares you. “Just close your eyes and I’ll let you know when it’s okay to open them. Okay?”

You watched her nod again and shut her eyes tightly in that kid way like when they faked being asleep and you quickly grabbed your keys from the ignition and threw your purse over your shoulder as you got out of the car. Looking around you tried to see something, anything, that could be what your daughter saw but as usual there was nothing. Taking a deep breath you moved to her door and went through the paces of getting her out of her carseat before you lifted her into your arms, closing the door behind you and walking up the steps to your home. Unlocking it you moved to the side so the door could swing open and you closed it behind you, quickly you moved to the couch and set her down. “Okay, there we go safe inside. No more scary lady.”

Maisie slowly let one eye open as she looked around the living room, seeing it was safe, you saw her relax. 

“I still need to get the groceries from the car,” You said, helping her out of her jacket. “Why don’t you get comfy and then you can help me make dinner. That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled, completely forgetting about the ghost outside the house, as she bounced off the couch and then down the hall to her room to change out of her day clothes. Maisie loved helping you make dinner. 

Smiling after her you left the trailer for just a few minutes to grab the bags from the trunk and locked up your car for the night and moved up the small steps to the front door. Turning you give one more sweep around the empty area, your eyes narrowed, and you square your shoulders. “I don’t care who you are or what you want but you leave my baby alone. You’re not welcome in this house.”

Turning you enter your home, closing the door behind you just in time for Maisie to run from her room in her home clothes. It was just a little dress that you made from an old set of curtains and a sewing machine from the goodwill but she loved it. “What’s dinner?”

“I was thinking of grilled cheese and tomato soup.” You said as you put the bag of food on the counter and started pulling out the cans of soup. “That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled as she ran into the kitchen to pull the step stool out of the corner and up to her usual spot at the counter. She was a good little helper and you let her butter the bread as you started on the soup. The knife she used was a kids learner one so there was nothing sharp to hurt herself with. You smiled at her as you handed over four single wrapped things of cheese to open. 

Grabbing a pan from under the counter, you cleared your throat and started a second burner. “You wanna tell me what happened at daycare today?” 

 Maisie stopped peeling the plastic from the cheese to look up at you. “Tony was being mean about daddy and me. He was saying mean things that his daddy told him. I didn’t like it. I told him to stop but he didn’t.” 

You listened as you stirred the soup. Letting her tell you in her own time, you had learned from being around Eddie as long as you had that sometimes pushing for an answer would just make the other person feel cornered so you nodded your head giving a little ‘mhm’ as a cue to continue.

“I told him I would tell Miss Britney,” She said as started to open the cheese again. “But he pushed me and called me a tattle tale and a fr-freak. So I got up and I hit him.”

“Gave him a black eye.” You said, looking over your shoulder at her. “Who taught you how to punch huh?” 

“Uncle Steve.” She shrugged as she handed over the pieces of buttered bread now that you turned the burner for the soup off to cool. 

“Okay,” You’d have to talk to Steve about that. He taught a four year old to punch when he could barely win a fight? “How’d you get those scratches?”

“He put his hands on my face and he scratched me.” She pouted.

“While I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and your daddy, you can’t hit people, baby.” 

“I know,” She sighed as felt a zing up her spine and she looked around the kitchen to see Eddie standing at the kitchen door staring at you sadly. “Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweetpea,” Eddie smiled at her before he looked back up at you. Five years older but still just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. 

Your back went ramrod straight as you looked over to where she was looking and just saw the empty doorway. “He’s… um… here?”

Maisie nodded and pointed her little hand to where he was standing. “Right there.”

Your eyes moved around the empty space before you gave him a little smile. “Hi babe.”

He smiled as he took a step towards you. “Hi pretty girl.”

Maisie giggled behind her hand as she looked up at you. “He said you were pretty.”

“As he should!” You said smiling back at her before you finished making your dinner. 

The two of you sat at the table and ate your dinner chatting lightly about what's going to happen the rest of the week. You'd have to call Hopper later tonight and see if you can bring her down to the station. She had plenty of books she can read, pages to color, little toys she can play with. She'll be fine. You stared at her in awe as she told you about the rest of her day. You had to remind yourself that she was four, but she spoke so well for her age, guess that comes with having no one but adults for friends. She picks up on words and habits like a sponge. 

After dinner you set her up with The Little Mermaid and a puzzle as you washed the dishes. After a while you caught yourself staring at your daughter as she sang along with the movie a puzzle piece in her little hand as she watched Ariel sing “Part of Your World” and you wished you could be like her. Seeing so many scary things, dealing with people being rude for the hell of it, and taking it all in stride with only a few bad patches here and there. Really you wished you could see what she sees. Help her learn how to shut the bad things out. How were you supposed to protect her from the things you can't see? You could barely protect her from the things you could. 

So lost in your thoughts you jumped as you felt a cold spot grow on the small of your back. Like someone had placed their hand there. It was comforting. Eddie. It was like he was saying that everything would be okay. Looking over your shoulder you watched as a small puff of air left your lips in a little cloud like it did when it was winter. "Eddie, that had better be you or I swear to God…" You mutter trying not to get Maisie's attention. 

The feeling left a few seconds later, but that spot stayed cool for a while after that. You finished the dishes quickly and moved to your room to change into your pj's. Looking up at the photo you had of Eddie in your room you smiled sadly. You loved that photo. Eddie was sitting on his Dungeon Master throne in the drama room of Hawkins High, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sat on his lap, his nose was buried in your hair as you laughed at something he said. Pulling on one of Eddie's old band shirts that Wayne gave you after Eddie died you left your room and got comfy on the couch to finish the movie with your little girl as she pointed out things you never noticed before. 

You watched her yawn as the movie came to a close and you looked up at the clock to see it was time for her bath and then bed. Together you moved into the bathroom so you could give her her bath, the tub filled to the brim with bubbles as she played with her toys. Once you had scrubbed your girl clean, you wrapped her in a fluffy towel, and dried her off as you got her ready for bed. Tucking her into her little pink princess bed you kissed her forehead as you sat on the bed next to her. “Goodnight baby. I'll see you bright and early in the morning. Do you need anything before you're off to slumberland?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Do you remember what you say if you see something scary?”

“You’re not welcomed here. Get out!”

“Atta girl!” You smiled as you pushed her curls from her forehead. 

“Night mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled as she got comfy in the bed, making sure to grab her stuffed bear, Mr. Noodles, that Joyce bought her when she was born, before you stood up and left the bed leaning down to switch on her nightlight before you moved to the door turning off the overhead room light. You stood in the doorway for a moment watching her in the dim purple light of her little nightlight before you left the room leaving the door open just a crack in case she needed you. 

You took a few minutes to turn off the TV and clean up her puzzle pieces making sure not to lose any so she can continue it later. Moving into your kitchen you grab the phone off the wall and by heart you hit the buttons for Hopper and Joyce's home. You listened as the phone rang and rang before Jonathon answered. 

“Hello?” He said into the phone. 

“Jon!” You smiled as you leaned on the wall. “How are you?! Back from college already?”

“Hey!” You heard him smile as he said your name. “Yeah, got in this afternoon. How are you? How's Maisie?” 

You caught up with Jonathon for a couple of minutes before you got the courage to ask for Hopper.

“Everything okay?” Jonathan asked.

“Maisie got into a fight at her daycare and now she's not allowed back until next week. I just needed to ask Hop if I could bring her with me to work.” 

“Bring her here. I'll watch her.” Jonathan said as he pulled the phone away for a moment to say something to his mom about watching Maisie at their house. 

Joyce jumped at the chance to see the little girl and through the receiver you could hear her say “Of course! She's always welcomed here, you know that!”

Your eyes stung with tears as you laughed a little. The love you felt for your found family was otherworldly. “Jon, are you sure? I don't want to mess up any plans you have with Nancy.”

"Yeah!" He said, "Yeah it's fine. Nancy has to work tomorrow so it'll be okay. Plus I'm sure she'd love to see her."

“Thank you guys. I'll bring her by on my way to work. Is eight o'clock okay?”

“That’s perfect!”

Letting out a sigh of relief you thanked him again before you let him go for the night and grabbed your book from the counter. You liked to use the time that Maisie slept to read uninterrupted. Moving back into the living room you got comfy on the couch and opened the book to your saved spot. You had just started to get into the story when the lights started to flicker. Looking at the lamp next to you your heart started to race. Eddie said that the lights flickered when Chrissy was killed by Vecna. It couldn’t be… 

Slowly getting off the couch you dropped your book as you stared at the lamp as it continued to flicker randomly before you realized… It was morse' code. S.O.S. Eddie. Looking around the room you jumped letting out a little scream before you clamped your hand over your mouth to keep from waking Maisie as your TV turned on by itself. The static white noise was all you heard before you looked around for the remote that seemed to be missing. You needed to turn it off by hand. Slowly you moved towards it and got down on your knees so you could turn it off. The powering down sounds happened and you breathed a sigh of relief when the world went quiet again. Looking up at the TV your eyes went wide as in the reflection of the screen was Eddie. Sitting behind you so close you could feel the cold. You had been so preoccupied by the lights and the TV you didn't even notice the drop in temperature. Tears collected on your lower lashes as you looked over your shoulder at your empty living room and then back into the TV. "Eddie…"

He smiled at you. Looking as handsome as he was before the demobats attacked him. He looked healthy and whole. You couldn't hear him but you saw his lips move. "Hi baby."

"How…" Shaking your head you smiled at him with a watery laugh, you didn't care. Your daughter wasn't crazy and Eddie was here watching over you both.

[tillywunderwing]

🎙️, 🤝, and 🧨 for the ask game.,,,.,

OKAY. LISTEN. this ask has been sitting in my drafts forfuckingever because I couldn't attach the audio file for the first question on my phone, and I thought 'well okay I'll just answer it on my laptop later'

I proceeded to Forget. ANYWAY. Totally hinged rambling under the cut

🎙️ What’s your favourite (used or unused) voice line in the games?

okay this is SUCH a specific pick but I’m personally really fond of THIS unused line for when you equip the winter gloves in I3YTD:

"I can't say I approve of you wearing any kind of Zoraxis branding on your clothing, but I do approve of you not catching a cold. Care comes first!"

it's just... i just... RRRGH he's so SILLY and it's like, such a simple little quote that kind of perfectly captures everything I love about his character. Like, you know, he's opinionated, but he's also kind of goofy and so softhearted, he cares so much about the player and their health... and for similar reasons I'm also going to shout out this line (that DOES get used in I3YTD) from Cold Shoulder (this one even comes with gameplay!):

“I don’t think that gondola is blizzard-certified, Agent... Those winds are too much! AGENT—!”

Just, the panic in his voice. The terror. So many of the deaths in these games are kind of, blink-and-it's-over, but this one... he can see it's about to happen. He has enough time to realise he's about to watch his favourite agent die. And you can hear that in his voice I think... the way it builds in pitch, and even the progressing certainty in what he's saying, 'I don't think' to 'those winds are'. We are listening to this man realise he's about to lose someone he cares about a lot. And that someone is us. Don't look at me DUDE DON'T LOOK AT MEEEE

(Can you tell the Handler is my favourite character? Because the Handler is my favourite character.) ahem I'm normal I promise I am

Now this probably could bring us to our next point... "🤝"... however I do actually have ANOTHER neglected ask in my inbox that asks the same question. And I think I am going to save the inevitable essay for its own post there LMAOOO so I will answer this question but. elsewhere. Soon

so instead all this talk of my favourite character will bring us to our other next point:

🧨If you put your two favourite characters in a room for five minutes how many people would die?

Hm. Okay. This is. A difficult question because it means I definitively have to pick a second favourite character. Reggie is a given--

I'm gonna let Ollie be the other one, because I like his voice, and I like his attitude, and I like him. Him and Reggie would get along famously if you put them in a room together, I don't think there's any question about that. Perhaps too famously, though. I think they would get too caught up in gossip over tea, and lose track of all time and obligations. So, to answer 'how many people would die', first I would need to know how many people are in the building(s) Phoenix sets fire to while nobody responsible is looking.

[businesscasualart]

I’m curious if you have any thoughts or headcanons about Onslaught and alcohol. I imagine being a semi-functioning evil team is stressful and if Psimon is chucking everyone’s vapes then cigs and 420 isn’t an option, then alcohol is the second best thing right? Besides drinking together is team building and leads to this wonderful thing called “actually talking about your trauma instead of bottling it up for once”.

AAAA sorry about taking so long to get around to this.

I need to stop checking my inbox until I’m FULLY ready to yap and ramble. I need that lil blue dot reminding me I have asks so bad.

That IS a good question and I’m so flattered that y’all bother with my content. <3 I think they’d be at least somewhat different about alcohol.

(Sorry for any typos in advance, I wrote this mostly at various doctor’s appointments. ALSO. Last thing to apologize for. I’ve never vaped or smoked when I wrote the last part, but I also have never consumed alcohol and that fact may be more evident in this one)

Cw: Alcohol and some references to alcoholism, uh…references to angst but maybe more comfort than angst, kinda all over the place <\3

Okay so, in the beginning, Onslaught was Mostly teens. Psimon was BARELY even old enough to drink in America at the ripe young age of 21, flat. And I thinnkkkkkk Psimon is American? Even if he’s not, it seems the rest of Onslaught is, so I think  Psimon would probably step up and be all “No, no,” confiscate all the bottles and cans and it’d make the teens so mad and indignant. Literal felons are being BABYSAT. Even when they travel where the drinking age is lower. 

But when the teenagers turn old enough to drink, they have a whole little birthday celebration with what they can get, and of course, offer the first taste of alcohol. Their choice for what it is, as long as the team could afford it. Of course, they laugh and tease if they recoil from the taste. 

Most of the team is pretty fond of drinking, usually together. It’s nice bonding.

Devastation is the only exception to the “Psimon Says no alcohol until you’re 21” rule from the beginning. The team can argue “She is LITERALLY one (1) year old” all they want. She is LITERALLY built different, Psimon is fine with her drinking. 

Idk if she particularly has a preference for any kind. She’s probably one of those who subscribe to the belief of “It ain’t right if it doesn’t burn a bit going down”. Wine is probably somewhat…nostalgic. For some reason. Takes her back to someplace she can’t name, someplace she’s never been, but I think that’d be one of the only reasons she might prefer wine. Her taste may be all over. May be whatever’s strong and good. I’m no alcohol savant, what do I know? 

She likes to drink to celebrate and to bond, sometimes to ebb at stress. It takes a LOT to get her drunk, but that’s not gonna stop her from getting drunk when she has the time and money burn on it. She gets drunk and gets even more jovial and warm and open, though she’s usually relatively open. Also, haphazard. She becomes a big fan of violating people’s personal space. Hugs, patting backs, throwing her arm around them, leaning on people shorter than her, etc.

It can annoy a lot of people if she does it too much, Psimon strangely doesn’t seem to mind too much tho…aheem…

Besides that, Psimon’s generally against the team drinking to the point of drunkenness, but there’s little to actually do about it; he struggles to track all of their limits, and when he’s focusing on one, that leaves all the others alone. He tries to avoid getting drunk himself instead. Someone has to stay sober, and his psionic powers don’t mix well with too much alcohol. And he’s the leader. It makes the most sense that it’d be him to keep his wits about him.

The Terror Twins are hearty drinkers; they also can drink a lot and get very warm and jovial when drinking, like Devastation. Any outing to a bar feels celebratory with them. They decided they don’t like to get fully drunk though, not too regularly. First Tuppence decided this, then Tommy when she pointed it out to him. They don’t want to open up more quickly than they intend. Psimon can relate to that, so he defends them when they drop out. That doesn’t stop them from having fun with everyone else though, or helping when things get bad. They’re usually decent at opening up on their own time anyway. 

Shimmer and Mammoth like to follow Psimon’s lead and keep excess drinking to a minimum. A couple of shots, a glass or maybe two, it really depends on what it is, but that’s it. Mammoth can take more than his sister, just by merit of him being so much larger, but he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol at all while his sister does. However, the second either of them get any kind of buzz ebbing at their senses is the second they quit. 

If they’re found sitting down and downing drinks, something is wrong. They’d only let go so much if they’re trying to drown their problems. Then, they can use some company. Someone lending an ear to their sorrows doesn’t sound half bad. 

If another team member is in a similar situation and needs someone to simply sit next to them and just be, or listen, Baran and Selinda are quick to be there for them.

Junior drinks for fun, he’ll seize any opportunity to drink. That man is getting “Krunk” as the kids say. He doesn’t know his limits and if he did, there’s no telling if he’d actually adhere to them. He WILL blackout if no one keeps an eye on him. He will be puking in the trashcan. The rest of the team has to steer him away from opportunities to drink lest he develop alcoholism at the tender age of 5-minutes-into-being-able-to-legally-drink. 

His mood becomes turbulent and fragile. He’ll typically be happy, loud, reckless, aggressive; but at the mention of the wrong thing or at the sight of something that takes him way back, he can breakdown rather easily. It’s actually pretty common for his drunken stints, when they get out of hand, to end in tears. Junior has to be one of the least repressed members of Onslaught, due in no small part to moments like these; where he lets his emotions run rampant and they go down a bad path. 

He’d expect ridicule, but Onslaught is actually very sympathetic to his struggles and complaints, whatever they may be. He can air his dirty laundry as much as he wants with little to no judgement, something he’s not used to. Once he starts, it’s hard to stop, but the team will listen until the end and it’s something he’s really grateful for. Despite being a troublemaker and general criminal, he tries to pay the team’s kindness towards him forward as much as he can.

If Psimon does end up drinking to lose his troubles, he usually does it alone, when everyone else is asleep. Or at least when he thinks everyone else is asleep. Sometimes someone will wander about looking for a late night snack or a glass of water, or even search for him himself. He dislikes being caught like that, dislikes not being so impervious and put-together for the team. 

Without fail, they’ll sit with him awhile. They’ll ask, they’ll listen, they’ll joke or comfort or sit in silence. Psimon will wither in place or try to get them to leave him be, but they’re a stubborn lot. They’re far from the most “upstanding” of company, but they treat him with the same care, empathy, and concern he tries to treats them with; and Psimon finds afterwards that, despite not enjoying being caught in a state of weakness or forced to open up, he wouldn’t have rather it have gone any other way.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

If you don’t mind I would like to talk about the one thing I mostly blame. Which is that I have never seen a real autistic adult, I’ve only met kids and saw kids on tv having autism. But adults ? The only one I saw was the library teacher of my middle school. And I tell you before she told me how she got to have a job I was never so scared, even terrorized, in my life. We should be seeing more adults so we know we can make it in life. That we are going to be okay.

Hi there,

I completely agree with your point. Even the media can’t get it right even if they actually try. If they do, they either see us and savants that know everything, or using exaggerating traits and we need help with everything. Which is true for some people. Some are savants, and some need some extra help.

There’s nothing about being in the middle like I am. I need some help ordering something at restaurants (my boyfriend helps). But I can clean the house, take a shower, and do things just fine. I’m unemployed, but I did get my associates degree.

I think the biggest issue is

A: The media portrays us inaccurately

B: there’s not much information out there for adults.

One of the main reasons I run this blog is to provide information that can help everyone. Not just kids, but teens and adults too

It’s like they think autism goes away once your an adult. It doesn’t work that way. We may change over time, which might be the reason people think this way, but that’s not true.

Autism is a neurodevelopment disorder that affects everyone for all their life. Not just kids. I wish more people could understand that.

Anyway, I’m so sorry for going on and on. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[sabo-has-my-heart]

*rolling on my bed* Awww Robin Hood Ace is so cute aksbsusikwbwms. I really can't wait for part 2!! (Though if you are joking about part 2, may I request for it?)

Thank you so much for writing my requests!! I am so hyped for the next part. I do have a couple more requests, if you don't mind, but I'll send those in once at a time and only after you finish my previous request so don't worry. (I promise myself that so that my thrist for Ace won't make me spam your inbox)

Anyways, I love your writing! Thank you so much and have a great day!!

No, I wasn't kidding, I originally had this queued, but I thought I'd put it here. I don't mind you sending them in at all, in fact, spam my inbox! Spam my inbox with Ace, spam my inbox with Sabo or Law. Spam my inbox with Crocodile, Corazon, and Luffy! Whatever your heart desires, I will do my best. I love writing for the people who love my writing.

Okay, Part 2 to Fan of Mine

Warnings: breaking and entering

Word Count: 1680

    Standing off to the side, Ace very nearly vibrated.

    “Can you believe it, Sabo? She’s a fan of mine! She actually likes me! Or, well, Spade, but same thing, basically! Do you know what this means?!” Ace whisper yelled, his eyes lit up like a christmas tree.

    “That she still hates the actual you?” Sabo asked, taking a sip of his champagne, bringing his brother’s mood crashing to the ground. He didn’t want to ruin Ace’s high, but he had to make sure Ace didn’t go doing something stupid. The dark haired brother stood there for a moment, thinking about what Sabo had said. You hated the real him. Looking back out at the dance floor, he saw you dancing with another noble boy. While you didn’t look real happy about dancing with him, you didn’t look at him with the same annoyance that you looked at Ace with. Feeling his heart sink, Ace nodded.

    “I… yeah, you… you’re right.” Ace said softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Sighing, Sabo looked back at Ace. Now that he was down from his high, Sabo could encourage him without getting his hopes up.

    “Maybe someone should pay her a visit later tonight after the party. I’m sure she’d like it if her favorite person in the kingdom wished her a happy coming-of-age.” Sabo said, making Ace perk up.

    “Y-you think so?” Ace asked, a glimmer of hope back in his eyes as Sabo nodded.

    “Absolutely. You can tell her you decided to see why all the lights were on when you spotted the girl who didn’t look like a walking clothing-makeup store.” Sabo said, gesturing to the other ladies. Ace nodded, feeling his mood return. He wasn’t quite as high as he had been 5 minutes ago, but this way he was hopeful while still being realistic.

    Brushing through your hair, you sighed. It had been a long night, dancing with so many guys your feet hurt, now all you wanted was to finish getting ready and go to bed. Feeling your brush slowly pulled from your grasp, you spun around in terror, expecting to scream. Standing before your eyes, holding your brush, was the infamous Spade.

    “Let me help with that. You must be tired after such a party.” he said past his scarf, gently turning you back around and starting to run the brush through your hair.

    “W-what are you doing here?” you asked tentatively, hands nervously clenched in your lap. You were face-to-face with the Spade!

    “Heard I wasn’t invited to the biggest coming-of-age ball of the year. Decided to see what I was missing. Gotta say, kind of sad that I missed a dance.” he said with a chuckle, continuing to brush your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle.

    “I… I can give you a personal dance if you’d like. We don’t have music and I’m not wearing my dress, but I wouldn’t want you to leave without at least one dance.” you offered, your cheeks now bright red.

    “I’d like that. Just one though. I… can’t stay.” He said, taking your hand and helping you up. You didn’t even care that his bare chest was on full display or that you couldn’t see his face, you were getting to dance with the guy you had a crush on, “You’re quite the girl, Y/n. Care to tell me why you didn’t scream?” Spade asked once your dance had ended. As Ace, he knew how you felt about Spade, but ‘Spade’ didn’t have that knowledge.

    “I… I suppose you could say I’m a fan of yours. What you do, it’s really noble and kind. I… I kind of wish I could be like you. I try to help but I’m not a good thief, I can’t even steal an extra cookie in the middle of the night.” you said with a small smile.

    “You’re still trying, that’s all that matters… Close your eyes for me.” he whispered softly, brushing some hair out of your face. Your heart pounded as you did what he said, feeling his lips against yours a second later. You were pretty sure you’d died as you melted into his kiss. The man pulled away a second later, taking your hands in his, pressing something into your palm, and closing your fingers around it, “Alright, you can look again.” he said, your eyes fluttering open. He was standing by your balcony now, out of your reach.

    “I’ll catch you later, beautiful.” he said before jumping from the balcony and onto the grassy lawn below. Opening your hand, you almost squealed in excitement. There in your hands, was his calling card, a small, black, wooden spade.

    Night after night he visited you, only skipping a night when he’d hit up another noble house to rob, but it was fine, you enjoyed meeting with him. Each time, he’d leave you with a kiss, your heart pounding in your chest. Most nights the two of you just talked, letting him sit on the balcony railing while you quietly chatted away, more than happy to have his company. With each meeting, you learned more and more about him. You knew that he was from somewhere in one of the upper districts, he’d gotten his start after seeing others suffering, he hated how nobles flaunted their wealth when there were people in need, he really liked spicy food, he enjoyed causing trouble, and, of course, he had a thing for you.

    “Hey Y/n?” Spade asked, glancing over at you. He seemed a little melancholy tonight.

    “What’s up?” you asked, standing on your balcony next to him, leaning against the railing.

    “What if I told you… What if I already knew you even before your party?” he asked, his hand clenching into a fist. He couldn’t keep going on like this, he needed to tell you. Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him in confusion.

    “I’d ask who in the world you are, because I don’t think I know anyone quite like you.” you said, wondering what he was getting at. Spade chuckled lightly and looked out into your courtyard.

    “I’m different when I’m out in public. When I’m out like this, I can be more… me than usual. No expectations, no rules, no people breathing down my neck. Just free to be me.” he said, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the cool night air. You nodded in understanding. It was the same with being a noble, always putting on a certain face for people to see, never just being you.

    “Then… Can I know who you really are? I know you, but I don’t know you.” you asked, gently taking one end of his scarf in your hand.

    “Just… let me have one more kiss. If you hate me after showing you who I am, I want to leave with just one last kiss.” he said, his hand covering your eyes. Both of your hearts pounded in your chests as his lips met yours once again, Spade slowly, reluctantly, pulling away. Opening your eyes, you couldn’t help but gasp in shock, your hands covering your mouth. With his scarf lowered, you could see the signature freckles and familiar smile.

    “A-Ace? You’re… you’re Spade?” you asked tentatively, watching as he took a deep breath and nodded.

    “I know you’re not exactly fond of me, but I’ve cared about you for quite a while. Figured, since you liked Spade, maybe, I don’t know, maybe you could get to know me through him.” Ace said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Your mind took a moment to process what he’d just said, stepping closer a moment later and caressing his cheek.

    “So you mean to tell me the stupid show off that’s always trying to get my attention is the same generous thief that’s been visiting me?” you asked, making Ace chuckle and nod. You were responding surprisingly well so far, though you could easily turn that caress into a slap. All you could do was press your lips against his once more. The two of you had gotten to know each other, the real versions of each other and not the faces you put on for the public. Ace couldn’t help but melt as he wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. How long had he dreamed of this? Of holding you and kissing you and for you to return his feelings but without the disguise.

    “You really think I’m a stupid show off?” Ace asked once you pulled away, making you smile.

    “Yes, but you’re my stupid show off.” you said with a smile. Ace smirked as he picked you up in his arms.

    “Well why don’t I show you what this stupid show off is capable of?” Ace said, laying you on the bed, making you blush. Was he… was he going to do what you thought he was going to do? He could already see the gears turning in your head, see what you expected of him. Hesitating for a moment, he stared at you. He could, you weren’t turning him away. Still, he gently pulled the blankets over you, covering you and kissing your forehead.

    “I’ll show you tomorrow. Meet me at the fountain?” he requested, tucking you in. You couldn’t help but nod, feeling rather tired. Ace turned to leave, pausing when he felt some resistance on his sleeve. Looking back, he noticed you holding his sleeve, a sleepy look on your face.

    “Stay with me? Just for tonight?” you pleaded, your eyes shimmering with hope. He knew he couldn’t say no to you, not when you looked at him like that. Sighing, he quickly removed his scarf and hat before crawling in on the other side of the bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. The comfort of being in his warm arms quickly had you dozing off, Ace admitting how peaceful you looked before falling asleep himself. If you thought he was a show off before, you might just smack him for what he had planned tomorrow.

[silvery-bluish]

27 or 35 for the touching prompts, please. Whichever one speaks to you more

this has been sitting in my inbox AND my wips for far too long. whoops. but hey, I did both of them! they have ENTIRELY different moods.

Wordcount: 452 + 375

Contents: 27- post-reveal, mid-some sort of Catfiend fight. Flystep adjacent, but not resolved. Don't worry about the context I don't know what it is.

35- Chargeflystep. Nebulous don't worry about it future. Soft and sleepy. Just scars no bruises but I think it still counts.

27. pulling the other one towards them

It’s impulse, reaction, motion without thought and you never move without thought except--

Okay. One thought. One fallback. No— and grab for Daniel’s arm and yank, pull him directly into you for lack of anywhere else to go, claws and limbs and mind too-caustic too-sticky to get a good bead on, but you can see the edges of it and the way it’s headed, and it turns too quick for Daniel to read so--

Armor’s not the kindest thing to collide with, but it’s less sharp than the Catastrofiend’s blades. He winces, flinches back from you, more muscle spasm than actually fleeing but only because he caught the impulse and that feels like a blade, too. Slipped right between your ribs, deserved and welcome. 

You fire your jumpjets at the same time, he’s light in your hands, no real extra weight for the jumpjets, and you can’t afford to think about the fear-terror-anger that blares against your mind like a goddamned klaxon.

Blades catch the edge of your cape, slice through fabric like butter— too sharp, unnatural, Mortum doesn’t go in for cheap polyester— but you’re clear, for a few seconds. Balanced on a knife’s edge less literal than the Catastrofiend’s. 

Because as convenient as the jumpjets are for getting away, they’re not built to maintain altitude. A split second of free fall before Daniel — Herald he’s Herald remember that — catches the both of you. Hero reflexes, even now. Even with you. 

He doesn’t drop you. Arms flailing, briefly, to get a good grip, but gravity doesn’t yank you back. You’re torn between being-- so relieved that he didn’t drop you and so, so scared that he’s still trying to save you.

You still trying to save him was never even a question, to you. He’s got every reason to let you drop right back into those glinting blades, and you’ve never stopped caring for anything truly important in your life. At least you’re aware of how stupid your loyalty is, even if he deserves it. Even if he deserves so much fucking more than it.

No time for that now. You’ve got more immediate problems that need your full attention. 

“Going down,” he warns you, aloud, and you brace for the intensifying of the freefall drop, but it’s— measured, still, no stone’s fall to the ground here. 

There still no time for niceties, even if he wanted them, your face obscured by your helmet and his by his goggles, both of you persona and not person except Herald’s part of him in a different way than Anathema is a part of you. 

You refuse to let yourself hang onto him. He doesn’t let you go until you’re both on the ground. 

35. kissing their bruises and scars

There’s pressure to the side of your nose, warm, the sensation of something fuzzy brushing the space between your eyebrows. Open your eyes, find Ricardo on the exit, and you sigh, eyelids heavy but you want to see. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, voice hushed, and Daniel’s shifting now too, bleary blinking sleep out of his eyes where he’s curled around your arm. It’s too early, you think, and a vague glance towards the alarm clock says-- yeah, too early. Early enough the resident morning person is just as asleep as you.

You catch Ricardo’s hand, bring it to your face, sleep-hazy press of it to your lips. You know where the scars there are, where his mods meet skin, as well as he knows where to find your scars in the dark. “You’re up early.”

“Things to do, people to see,” vague, annoyingly so, but you’re not awake enough to want to push right now. “Go back to sleep, Ars.” Daniel’s already taken the cue— or, not quite, but he’s shut his eyes again and is just listening. 

“Don’t get yourself hurt, idiot,” you say, but you can’t muster any of the bite you want in the tone. He laughs, steps closer again to kiss your lips and drops one to Daniel’s forehead, in convenient reach.

“No promises.” 

“Don’t end up in the hospital again,” Daniel, chiming in and on your side, even if he’s still groggy, too. 

“I’m just meeting a contact. She keeps weird hours, it’s fine, both of you.” Exasperated now, but fond. 

You start pulling yourself more awake, moving as if to untangle yourself from Daniel, “Do you want—“

“I want you to go back to sleep,” Ricardo says, laughing, pulling the blanket further around your shoulders and pressing another kiss to your cheek. Along the scar under your eye. “Ars, really. It’s fine. I’ll be back for breakfast.”

“You’d better be,” muttered, and he laughs. You’re sure you aren’t very— intimidating right now, sleep-mussed and disgruntled, but that’s alright. 

Ricardo doesn’t close the door all the way behind him, leaving a thin slice of hallway light falling into the room. Daniel tucks his cheek closer into your shoulder to block his eyes, and you settle back in.