#and i think being stuck as a child developmentally for a century of running and hiding and fighting across universes
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
rotates legends zone dymanics in my mind
#the nemesis speaks#the legends zone#hi. sorry. apparently this is The AU of the Day. im going to bed soon promise#but god one thing i do really get obsessed with so fast is porting characters to another situation#and seeing how their relationships evolve#AND i love Bonding. so this is great.#anyway to nobody's surprise i AM envisioning akari as the protag and rei as counterpart#and i think being stuck as a child developmentally for a century of running and hiding and fighting across universes#has some uh. Fun Lasting Effects#and then she Forgot ever going through that and was also cut off from her family (her FAMILY-)#so it's. hard. the whole world feels Wrong. her emotions are too Big for her body to hold#she's still a child but it's like she's doing it wrong somehow. she isn't like anyone else#which is what directly relates to her running away from the home she gets put in bc they fundamentally CAN'T get it and also don't try#and she's so hurt and frustrated and she KNOWS she could be on her own anyway! one of the ways in which she's too grown-up#but that's hard too it's just hard in different ways#and then she finds cyllene and lav and ingo again and it's just like. a Click. somehow it's so much easier to Exist when they're there#....this is mostly abt akari i guess. oops. there's more abt the others but there is a theoretical tag limit on these things#AND ALSO I THINK SHE'S A DIVINE OR CHOSEN SORCERER. so that's another thing. magic she can't 100% control#that just burns through her when she gets emotional#ingo meanwhile has not felt An Emotion in five years. and laventon is off in lala land approximately 50% of the time.#and if you ask cyllene she'll say her only emotion is Shouting. but she's a fucking liar#but more on that another time!
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
thinking SO hard about that âBabybel gets transported outside of his own mindscape with Luz and Hunter and ends up stuck in six year old formâ concept
i want him to have adult Belosâs memories and knowledge but heâs physically occupying the body and brain of a small child so like his cognitive development level is really lagging behind what heâs used to (which wasnât a problem in the mindscape where it runs on dream rules, but unfortunately,)
heâs scheming but heâs also having a hard fucking time because like you will never. ever convince me. that Philip Wittebane is not a deeply traumatized man. all rectangles are not squares but all squares are rectangles and brother? this is one developmentally disrupted square.
so anyway heâs got four hundred years of being fucked up and evil crammed into a six year old brain and heâs furious and terrified and overwhelmed and going to get put in shitty mindbaby jail for sure.
serenely choosing to interpret the fact that he never said anything in Babybel form but then immediately would not shut up in Belos form is because he was nonverbal for a very long time in childhood* and therefore, not possessing several centuriesâ worth of verbal communication workarounds**, he canât talk to anyone in the Owl House
they give him a big sketchbook and a bunch of colored pencils and markers, because if thereâs one thing the Owl House has in abundance itâs craft supplies
he spends a while being profoundly frustrated by six year old motor skills and total lack of most of the artistic muscle memory heâs used to but starts to work something out that doesnât totally disgust him
i just want him to without really thinking draw a familiar face, look at it, and get hit with 400 years of missing (and recreating and raising and programming and using and being betrayed again by and murdering) Caleb but, and this is the crucial part, with the emotional and cognitive capacity of a six year old
and burst into furious tears
(*people were not, i think, kind about this)
(**actually there are a couple of notable occasions as Belos where he gets confronted with something he clearly doesnât have either a preplanned speech or a well-oiled social script to respond to and just. does not say anything.)
(***edited this post to link to the post that first outlined this concept bc it was not in fact me! they also deserve some love for it)
#luz thinks this is about hunter#which i mean she's not quite WRONG#it only deepens her conviction that this is the manifestation of the Emperor's sense of guilt#he gets angry and kid brain tells him to crumple up the paper and eat it.#when luz snatches it out of his mouth he bites her. this is not his most dignified moment.#emperor belos#babybel in real time#toh spoilers#the owl house#babybel au
699 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Child I Will Hurt You
One of the weirdest things to Alcor about being a father was how automatically Toby trusted him.
Which really freaked him out because he didnât feel he should be trusted to raise a child. After all, he was practically still a child himself.
(See the most updated version on AO3!)
===
The thing that scared Alcor the most about raising Toby was how fully the boy trusted him.
Heâd experienced and marveled at that kind of trust before. When Mabel found him after that fateful day in 2012 and threw herself at him, sobbing with relief that he wasnât gone after all, he felt it. When Stan took him and Mabel into his home a few years later, patted him on the back and said âItâs no problem, kidâ, he felt it. When he warned Mabel that he shouldnât be trusted with the tripletsâ true names and Mabel shouted him right out of his self-flagellation, he felt it.
The first day he brought Toby home after finding him alone and shivering on the street, he felt something very different.
Panic.
Panic over who the child in front of him truly was underneath that thin layer of flesh. Panic over what would happen if he didnât stop whatever Bill was planning. Panic as he remembered Weirdmageddon over and over again in complete, horrific detail.
âListen kid,â he said, floating a few feet off the ground so he could better tower over the child, âno funny business, okay? You hear me in there, Bill?â
Toby only cocked his head, scraggly and unwashed golden locks tumbling away from his face to reveal his scarred eye. He still wore the half-scared half-curious look heâd had when heâd first caught the demonâs attention, but there was something else bubbling up. Something that tasted suspiciously like trust.
It really freaked Alcor out because he didnât feel he should be trusted to raise a child. Trust was something you gave to adults who knew what they were doing, after all, and he was practically still a child himself.
Alcor grimaced, and lowered onto his knees so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. âI mean it. Iâm watching you. Iâll know if anything bad happens.â
To his surprise, Toby smiled at that. âYou can make the bad things stop?â
âYes,â Alcor replied, his voice cracking like it hadnât in centuries because he was already messing this up, he was sure of it. âN-no getting into trouble. Not on my watch.â
The boyâs face lit up, trust shining brilliant from both eyes, and before Alcor could tell what was happening, Toby had reached up and hugged him around the neck.
And the demon remembered
Billâs little pipe cleaner hands iron-clad around his neck,
Squeezing the life out of him,
Blue fire rushing all over his body,
Over and into his soul,
Screaming until there was no more breath left in him,
And the little boyâs smile radiated such trust and hope that Alcor was left completely speechless.
âThank you,â Toby squeaked, and Alcor felt it.
---
âOh stars, I canât do this, I canât do this!â Alcor was in his human disguise, head in hands, elbows resting on the counter, rambling like the world was ending. âIâm way in over my head. Raising a child? Me? I mean I looked after Mabelâs triplets but this is so differentâŚâ
â...Sir?â The cashierâs hand hovered over Alcorâs head, unsure whether it was appropriate or comforting to actually pat him. âAre you alright?â
âNo!â he fumed, lashing out and knocking over some of his groceries. âI have a six year old at home and he trusts me to look after him and keep him safe! How could this possibly have happened?â
âUhâŚâ The cashier peered behind the man to the customers in line, most of whom looked some degree of disgruntled or confused. She gave them a little wave to indicate that they should probably move to a different register, and then turned back to the man who appeared to be hyperventilating now. âDo you have a partner? Anyone whoâs helping you?â
âOf course not, Iâm alone, Iâve got no friends,â he moaned. âThereâs no one who I trust enough to foist Toby off to. The poor boy has such bad karma -- he needs me to protect him from that or heâll get eaten alive!â
âWell⌠it sounds like youâve got the right instincts at least. You want to keep him safe.â
âThatâs just it! I donât!â Alcor picked his head up and the cashier saw streaks of a strange yellow liquid running down his face. âEverything Iâm doing for him is just stuff I picked up from watching my sister raise her kids! I donât have any kind of adulting instincts -- none at all! I transcended when I was fucking twelve and thatâs where Iâll be stuck until the end of time. Iâm just a pointless child! Iâve got too much power and no actual ability to help anyone!â
The cashier sighed and -- after the man nodded to say it was alright -- put her hand on his shoulder. âListen, man, all of that stuff sounds normal.â (Except for the parts that made no sense to her at all but she opted to ignore them.) âNo one knows how to raise a kid, and no one ever feels like theyâve grown up. You learn it as you go. Trust me, my kids ran me ragged and I had no idea what I was doing. But they turned out alright. So will yours.â
Alcorâs voice began to wobble, and he pressed gloved hands to his temples. âBut he wonât! Iâm developmentally frozen. Iâm not capable of learning anything! Seriously, what kind of adult buys this much candy?â
She glanced at his cart, which indeed was half filled with Giddy Cowboys and Sneakers bars. âThat is a lot,â she admitted. âI would not advise giving your kid that much candy.â
âWhat? No.â Alcor stopped sniffling and pulled a face like heâd just smelled poo. âThatâs for me. Iâm buying all these vegetables and milk and chicken for Toby. Heâs a growing kid, he needs to eat healthy, get all those food groups in, you know. Iâm not stupid. But I am childish for liking candy so much that Iâd eat this much of it in a week! I mean, seriously! Oh stars, Iâm hopeless!â
The cashier lifted an eyebrow and removed her hand. âYou eat all of this⌠in a week?â
âI know, I know, Iâm ridiculous!â
âThatâs not what I meant,â the cashier cut in, before he could start gibbering again. âIâm just worried about your teeth. Your⌠teethâŚâ She trailed off as the man suddenly yawned, exposing two rows of jagged knives that could sink into her flesh in an instant. âYour, um, your- your-â
Alcor pulled a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and started picking at his teeth. âWhat, do I have something in them?â
The cashierâs eyes widened even more as the manâs gloves came off. âMy⌠what pointy claws you haveâŚâ
âThank- wait.â Alcor froze, one long blackened nail still pressed into his gum. âWait a minute. Pointy. Sharp. Cutting and slicing and ripping open oh stars!â
âUm- um- um-â the cashier tried to say, but with every word she felt like she was shrinking until sheâd be swallowed up by her clothes. âSlicing?â
Alcor shook his head furiously, and this time his fist was positively trembling when it came down onto the counter. âI havenât child proofed the knife drawer in the kitchen!â
He flipped his hat off of his head and pulled out a wad of cash, which he then thrust into the cashierâs hands just as her lights went out. Before anyone else could react, he vanished into thin air, taking his groceries and the shopping cart with him.
âI canât believe I didnât think of this before,â Alcor grumbled as he zeroed in on the offending drawer. He pulled it open and there they were -- obscene, dangerous implements that he was a wicked and cruel caretaker to have potentially exposed his child to. He couldnât stop imagining what mightâve happened if Toby had tried to pull open the drawer and it had fallen on him -- couldnât stop thinking about his little boy sticking his adorable hand in and receiving cuts and lacerations and awful, awful sobbing filling the houseâŚ
With a snap, child locks were in place. Alcor tested them out by trying to pull the drawer open -- and it took a few tries before even he was able to. Sighing with relief, he leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. His feet bumped up against the shopping cart sitting in the middle of the kitchen, overflowing with Reeceâs Mugs and Chortle Taffy and Quasarbursts.
He couldnât do this. He was too irresponsible.
Alcor dug a hand into the cart and pulled out a candy bar. He sank his teeth into it, enjoyed the rush of sweetness that was almost as good as flesh and bone. Slowly he began to unclench his muscles -- even though his form was imaginary, the cramps shooting throughout his body still hurt. He slid down the counter a little further, almost letting his head touch the floor -- and then he noticed it.
The stairs.
Bolting upright, Alcor let the candy bar fall from his hand. The stairs. How hadnât he thought about that before? What if Toby fell down and tumbled into the banister and lost his other eye? What if what if what if?
Not a minute later, the demon was wrestling with child safety gates, somehow struggling even with all of his considerable power just to get them to attach to the wall. At one point he tipped his jaw back and used his tongue to line the edges with spit, which then solidified like glue. The stairs had to be safe. He couldnât risk Toby getting hurt.
And with that thought came even more thoughts that sent Alcor racing through the house. What if Toby slipped in the bathtub? What if Toby climbed on top of the fridge and couldnât get down? What if Bill slammed his arm in a drawer again and again and again and again until it was full of forks and then he poured soda into his eyes and laughed like a maniac while Dipper drowned in the vast emptiness of the Mindscape???
Alcor stiffened. He set down the intricate contraption heâd been building to keep Toby safe from wild animals in the backyard. And he looked into the mirror.
What was he doing?
This was Billâs soul he was fretting over. It was always him, on the inside, and heâd known it from the very first day heâd seen the boy. He knew what was lurking beneath the surface, what kind of monster slept in that innocent form waiting until one day he could reach out and traumatize his father once more. Reach out and steal his beating heart, and laugh, and live, and die, and laugh, and live, and die, in a way heâd never be able to again.
A chill passed through Alcorâs body. Something had to be wrong with him, because he knew what Toby was and heâd spent the entire week worrying about the boy. Why did he care so much?
Quietly, he crept down the hall, and peered into the bedroom on the right. There he was -- the beast himself -- sleeping soundly in a bed decorated with race cars and rocket ships. A few more steps, and Alcor could see how small he looked, how even in his sleep he seemed so broken. And the demonic instincts that had rushed through Alcor since the day heâd gone up in flames were quelled, because every fiber of his being told him he needed to protect this child.
He rested a hand on the boyâs forehead, and watched him dream about running around in a field of grass, playing catch with his new father.
---
Thus started a new routine. A demon, trying day-to-day to take care of a small child. Playing grown up even though he felt so utterly unprepared for what he was doing. But Alcorâs life didnât stop when he became a parent.
Neither did any of his other regular obligations.
âOh, youâre asking for it now!â Alcor roared, jumping to his feet. âIâm gonna run you through with my sword! Die die die die!â
The dungeon master -- Damien -- peered over his half-rimmed glasses at the demon and smirked. âNot gonna work, Iâm afraid. The slime beastâs armor is too thick to be pierced by a sword such as your own.â
Alcor gaped with disbelief. âWhaaat? I call foul play! You let Anushka do it!â
âAnushkaâs sword has a fire enchantment on it. Slime armor is weak to heat.â
âAlso, I said die five times,â Anushka added with a shit-eating grin on her face, jabbing Alcor in the side with her elbow. âDie die die die die!â
Alcor snorted and dropped back into his chair. âWell, you got me there.â He looked at the other players, disappointment rolling over into amusement. âCan I change my move or am I locked in?â
Damien shrugged. âGo for it. I donât think youâll be able to beat it this turn though, and youâve only got one hit point remaining.â
Nat leaned over and whispered in his ear. âYo, Iâve got an idea. You should defend this turn and try to survive the slimeâs attack, and then on my turn I can fire enchant your sword.â
âHuh. MaybeâŚâ He patted his head to get the spittle out of his ear, and surveyed the map of the dungeon they were in. Then he sat bolt upright in his seat, a large exclamation mark appearing over his head. âDamien. How many sword actions do I get this turn?â
Damien rolled a die. âTwo.â
âYessss. Okay. First, I lunge at the slime again! But with the blunt end of my sword so it gets knocked back.â
Damien rolled another die. âYep. That works. Are you gonna use your free movement to approach it again?â
Alcor shook his head. âNope. Iâm gonna throw my sword -â
âYour sword doesnât have enough piercing damage to make a difference from that distance, Iâm afraid.â
The roomâs dim lighting glinted off of razor sharp teeth. â- at the cable holding up the chandelier.â
Anushka and Nat dropped their pencils, and looked straight up, momentarily forgetting that they were not actually in the dungeon they were traversing. âYou what?â
Damien rolled a die again, and sucked in a sharp breath. âAlright. The chandelier falls onto the slime beast before it can react. It quickly catches on fire, leaving it too weak to attack. Congrats!â
Beaming, Alcor scribbled some numbers on his character sheet. âHeck yeah. No slime beast is strong enough to get one past the Dreambender.â
âYouâre so creative, Al,â Nat said. âSeriously, wow. I never wouldâve thought of that.â
He wove off the compliment. âNaw, Iâm just basically a large child. Being silly and immature is what theyâre good at.â
Looking up over his dungeon master partition, Damien furrowed his brow. âWhy do you say youâre immature -â
There was a ringing in Alcorâs head -- a tug on a bond -- and he held up his hand. âWait, hold that thought. Speaking of children, my kidâs calling me. Iâm gonna have to leave early this week.â He stood up, and did a dramatic bow. âIâll see ya all next week! Donât lose my summoning circle!â
Toby -- lying flat on the floor of the Mystery Shack -- perked up at the sight of his adoptive father walking through the door. Tyrone looked about as human as they come -- a man in his mid-thirties with soft brown eyes, no wings, and feet that always touched the ground. He opened his arms and Toby came running to hug him.
Right away there was that trust again, that total trust that Alcor still couldnât believe he deserved. How could someone like him -- someone whoâd just spent two hours playing a tabletop role playing game and laughing about memes -- be trusted to take care of a child?
Gingerly, he took Toby into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. âHow are you doing?â
âIâm boooooooored!â Toby whined. âCan we play a game? I wanna play pretend!â
Chuckling, Alcor put Toby down and then sat beside him on the floor. âSure thing, kid. You know, Iâm pretty good at playing games like that. I was playing one with my friends earlier today.â
Tobyâs jaw dropped. âWhoaaaaa! You have friends?â
A vein bulged in Alcorâs forehead. âOf course I- never mind. Whatâs the game, kid? What are we pretending?â
Toby jumped up and started pacing in a circle. âI wanna make up a story! Itâs gonna be great! Iâll be the hero and youâll be the bad guy -- an evil king who wants to kill all of the good people in the land! Is⌠is that okay?â
There was a mirror mounted on the wall behind where Toby had been sitting. Without the boy in his way, Alcor found his gaze fixed on it. He could see Toby gesturing as he walked and he could see the nostalgic decorations hanging on the wall of the Shack. But there was no Tyrone to speak of.
It took a moment for him to realize that Toby was talking to him. âWhat? Oh yeah. Of course, kid. Iâll be the bad guy.â He took a deep breath, discarding the voice in his head that furiously objected to him being the villain to Billâs hero. âWhatâs my motivation?â
Toby cocked his head. âMoti- what?â
âWhatâs my backstory? Why am I evil?â
The boy continued to stare at him with a blank look on his face. âYouâre evil cause youâre the bad guy and bad guys are evil!â
âThatâs kinda boring- never mind.â Alcor grimaced and looked back at the mirror. âSo youâre the hero, eh? How are you going to defeat me? Whatâs the hero good at?â
âEverything!!!!â Toby squealed, and his reflection grabbed onto something invisible. âThe hero is the good guy so I should always win and Iâll have all of the magic and the biggest swords ever!â
Alcor shifted so that Toby was hanging onto his shoulders rather than around his middle. âEverything? But if the hero always wins, whatâs the point?â
âThe good guy always has to win!â the boy chirped, squeezing tight around Alcorâs neck. âAlways!â
Oh my stars this is so boring, Alcor thought. How fricking uninventive is Billâs soul? Children are supposed to be good at being silly and creative. I guess all Billâs soul can think about is being powerful again.
A figure stepped into the room on the other side of the mirror. It was short -- looked to be about 12 years old -- and had clawed hands, bat wings sprouting from its hips, and a fancy suit that looked out of place for someone so young. Alcorâs jaw dropped as he watched the figure pick up Tobyâs reflection, pat him on the back, and then stare directly out of the mirror at the demon.
âThis is a game for children,â the figure said in a low growl.
âWhat?â Alcor yelped.
Toby giggled at the interruption. âI said that all the evil people should die because theyâre mean! No one should ever do a bad thing!â
âThis is what children are like. They see in black-and-white because they know nothing about how the world works.â Cold, black eyes bored into Alcorâs skull. âHave you forgotten what thatâs like?â
âB-but Iâm silly,â Alcor stammered, sweat starting to drip down his face. âIâm irresponsible. I love playing games and coming up with interesting stories. Those are childish things for someone as old as me to be doing.â
âDad?â Toby asked. âWhat are you saying? I canât hear you.â
The figure sneered, baring two sets of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Tobyâs head. âWhoever told you that mustâve really hated the idea of growing up.â Toby stirred, and it spent a moment cradling him so heâd calm down. Then those eyes -- now bright and full of gold -- flicked back at the demon. âWho said it? Was it you?â
Alcor gasped and fell over. Toby shrieked as he suddenly found himself tumbling to the ground, and the sound broke Alcor right out of his trance. Quick as a whistle, he pirouetted and caught the boy in his arms, pulling him close to his chest in a tight hug.
âOh no, oh Toby, are you alright?â he fretted. âDid you get hurt?â
âIâm okay!â Toby squeaked, his face pressed against Alcorâs collarbone. Alcor loosened up on his hug, and took in Tobyâs smile. âThat was fun! You always catch me! Thatâs how I know youâre really a good guy.â
âIâm a good guy?â Alcor gulped, and glanced back at the mirror. This time he saw himself, in his present human disguise, holding Toby close, and looking so, so utterly responsible. It freaked him out.
â...Dad?â Toby asked, brow crumpled. âDaaaaad what are you thinking?â
âI thinkâŚâ Alcor sighed, and gave his son a little kiss on the forehead. âI think itâs time you got some friends your own age.â
---
From that day on, things were a little different.
Alcor bought a house in the physical plane, because a memory of a shack in the Mindscape was no place to raise a child.
âDad?â
He doctored forms and documents so it not only looked like a certain Tyrone Pines actually existed, but also that he and his adopted son Tobias Pines were legal residents of a sleepy town in the middle of Washington. This let Toby attend school with kids his own age.
âWhat is it, Toby?â
He went to the library on the weekly to check out parenting books, having long exhausted the meager supply of advice his omniscience had to offer -- as it turned out, parenting was very much a learn-as-you-go experience with few absolute truths to guide you.
âWhatâs a demon?â
Alcor froze, his hand halfway in the process of turning a page in his book. He started to turn his head around to look at the boy, and remembered just in time to turn his body around with it.
âWhere did you hear that?â Alcor asked carefully.
Toby kept his head down, opting to study his fatherâs shoes instead of his face. âI, um...â
There it was again, that emotion bubbling up inside of Alcor, that instinctual distrust he couldnât help but feel for the soul who had once taken everything from him. It was all he could do not to jump up and yell âAha! Caught you red-handed, Bill! I knew you were in there all along!â
He got out of his chair and knelt in front of the child, using a finger to gently raise the boyâs head so they could see eye-to-eye. âYou can tell me,â he said softly. âItâs okay.â
Alcor saw Toby reach into that pure, automatic trust he had for the monster who was raising him. The boy gulped, and squared his shoulders.
âUm... Devonâs dad said it to Devon.â
Alcor blinked. âIs that so? Devon, the kid in your class who asked you to play baseball with him?â
Toby nodded. âH-he was asking me again, and I know you said I wasnât allowed to, but he started showing me anyway. He got his bat and swinged it and it looked really cool. Then his dad yelled at him and said âDevon, you little demon, cut that out right now!ââ
Alcor could only stare, mouth agape, in response. Toby started to tremble as he continued speaking. âThen Devonâs dad took the baseball bat and Devon got really sad and I didnât know what it means but it looked bad and I donât want to be a little demon and Iâm really really sorry I said I wanted to play baseball I donât want to be a demon I donât I donât -â
He cut off with a squeak as his father took him into his arms and hugged him tight.
Alcor was a being with access to more power and magic than almost anything else in the universe. He could level mountains, he could turn cities inside out, he could institute universal basic income on the moon with a snap of his fingers.
But when he held Toby in his arms, when he saw the awestruck look on the boyâs face when he played the violin for him, when he listened to Toby babble excitedly about whatever heâd learned in school that day, Alcor felt powerful.
All of his magic crumbled beneath the obscene power granted to him by way of this childâs trust in him. He had the power to protect this child, to support and encourage him to grow up to be the best person he could be. He could also betray Tobyâs trust so, so easily.
He could punish his son for no reason if he needed an emotional pick-me-up. He could disregard the boyâs concerns and laugh in his face. He could even raise his voice just a little too much, caught in a moment of frustration, and leave Toby wincing in distress -- an ephemeral moment in Alcorâs life but an upsetting and formative moment in Tobyâs which could forever mar their relationship.
That would be childish. That would be immature of him.
Alcor had killed reams of cultists, had bestowed disturbing curses on people whoâd only sort of deserved it, had terraformed the western coast of the United States in a fit of rage. Heâd done a lot of horrible things with his magic, but.
This power, this power he had to shape Tobyâs life.
This power horrified him.
âYouâre not a demon,â Alcor said, (and it felt so unfair to be saying that to him of all people -- so cruel and dirty that he wanted to scream until his hair fell out. But he didnât.)
âDonât cry,â (even though no one had held him when he cried that day in 2012, because heâd simply slipped through their fingers, and he wanted to repay that favor. But he didnât.)
âDaddyâs here,â he whispered, before kissing Tobyâs tears away. âYouâre not in trouble.â
The words came so naturally, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he had the experience to understand what was upsetting his son, and the power to make it better. As if he had the maturity to push past his own conflicted feelings, because he was an adult, and this was a little child.
He set Toby down, and kneeled to meet his eyes. In that moment, he felt tall. Sort of grown up.
Toby sniffled. âYouâd never yell at me? Even if I do something wrong?â
Alcor thought once again back to the day heâd seen Bill Cipher on the side of the road. Thought about the furious, vengeful part of him that enjoyed the boyâs suffering because thatâs what he deserved. Remarked on how the universe had served him up his greatest enemy in the most vulnerable form possible, giving him the opportunity to take Tobyâs trust and do unspeakable things to him.
âSure thing, kiddo,â he said, ruffling the boyâs hair. âI promise.â
Remembered how heâd instead chosen love.
---
It was a dark and stormy night that found Alcor wandering the streets of a mostly-abandoned city.
Heâd been summoned -- it always started with a summons -- and heâd been angry. It didnât even matter what had made him angry, because there were so many things these days that people absolutely would not stop doing no matter how much he screamed and threatened and threw flaming balls of plasma into their twisted places of worship. They never learned. And neither did he.
Alcor couldnât stand how many people had to die because of him. How many people were killed in his name. How many lives heâd taken with his own hands because he couldnât seem to stop, like an immature brat who throws tantrums when things donât go his way. He wondered if he could ever change, or if he was just stuck this way.
It was deep in these thoughts that the demon heard a little noise. A squeak, barely audible over the rain. He dismissed it at first, because his grand thoughts were more important than the world around him, and right after a bad summons was the perfect time for self-hatred. It felt good -- it was one of the only things that still did. He considered burning the entire city to the ground. Maybe thatâd feel even better.
Something told him that it wouldnât.
He heard the squeak again, his eyes darting over to a heap of trash bags between two buildings, and thatâs when he saw him. A little boy with golden hair, no older than six. He was dressed in rags. He looked like he hadnât seen a scrap of food in days. The left side of his face had been eaten away by flame, leaving it patchy and discolored.
Alcor had seen right through Billâs disguise, of course. There wasnât a meatsuit pitiable enough to blot out the sins his soul had committed. Perhaps that was why he had been abandoned on the side of the street to begin with -- karma was finally catching up with him. Alcor wanted to laugh, but he couldnât. Something strange was going on inside of him. Some sort of instinct buried within him -- not one tipped with blood and claws, but one that creaked and groaned under centuries of exertion.
It was this feeling that prompted him to gather up the child in his arms. He felt how fast the boyâs heart was beating; saw in his past how much heâd been hurt without an adult to protect him. He knew that feeling well.
âItâs okay,â he murmured as Toby began to fuss. âThings will be better now. Iâll protect you. I might only be a child myself, but I promise Iâll protect you.â
One year later, one year of introspection, growth, and unbroken promises later, he had to admit heâd been wrong.
(AO3 link)
#gravity falls#transcendence au#dipper pines#alcor the dreambender#toby pines#tobias pines#fic#my stuff
47 notes
¡
View notes