#best gold testing machine

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,” your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

Tag List: @space1crow @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @minkyungseokie @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia

[comicaurora]

...What happens if I put a full twenty dollars into the urban fantasy vending machine?

it's been on the backburner for over a year, so nothing fresh, but for twenty dollars in the urban fantasy vending machine, here is a short vignette I haven't touched in a year and a half

The room was crisp and bright, all sharp edges and polished monochrome. The sun shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, refracting off the sparkling glass and steel spires that carved out the skyline and focusing with almost suspicious precision directly into my eyeballs. I slumped down further in my chair and squinted across at the empty desk. Everything was too damn bright.

“Can I get you anything, detective?”

The voice that rang out from behind me was innocent and musical. The woman it belonged to was not.

I scowled. “Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself.” I could hear the indulgent smile. “The coffee’s very good, you know. I don’t settle for anything less than the best.”

“I’m sure.”

“And with a nose like yours, I’m sure you already knew.”

Water boiled, and a rich, bitter scent coiled through the air. It was good. Probably that Blue Mountain stuff, or - no. It had to be Turkish. Of course she’d do Turkish.

I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled harshly. There was no way around it - I was exhausted. I’d hit the 48-hour sleep dep limit back on Saturday and had been burning through raw determination ever since. It was damn stupid of me, frankly. I probably couldn’t even handle arithmetic right now, let alone solve a mystery.

But it’d be real stupid of me to accept a drink from the most notorious poisoner in history, so I was just going to have to deal with it.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and the world blurred back into focus as a tall figure briefly eclipsed the dazzling display of sun-sparkled skyscrapers. A coffee cup settled on the desk with a soft clink. There was a rustle as she settled into the high-backed chair and leaned forward. The sun caught in her golden braided bun and played across the shoulders of her elegant black suit. Pale, slender hands clasped the coffee cup with practiced precision.

“So,” Medea said. “How can I help you today?”

Her eyes were honey-gold. Granddaughter of Helios, the myths had said, and the sun certainly seemed to be in the habit of favoring her. Her corporate empire dealt in energy. Geothermal, hydroelectric, solar, even nuclear - all those shiny, clean alternatives that were slowly outcompeting the old oil-burning models. Her power stations were already keeping the lights on for half of the eastern united states. It was a hell of a niche she’d carved out for herself, and like everything else she’d ever done, she was stunningly good at it. Then again, for a demigod princess and compulsive social climber, the world of corporate politics must’ve felt like a home away from home.

Her gaze was steady and level, like I wasn’t cutting into her busy workday. Like she had all the time in the world.

Well. She did, didn’t she?

I sighed. “There’s a new drug on the streets.”

“Is it Tuesday already?”

“This one’s different.” I rubbed my eyes. “Right now, they just think it’s a hallucinogen.”

“And?”

“It’s not. It shows what’s really there.”

The coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. “How much?”

“Can’t tell for sure. Sounds like they’re seeing fairies, sprites, goblins, standard hidden world stuff… but I’m pretty sure it cuts through glamour. Might even go deeper, start showing shifter’s true forms.” I leaned back. “The secret world won’t stay secret for long if the users and abusers start comparing notes. I was half-tempted to take some of the stuff myself just to find out how much they know, but I’m not exactly a neutral test subject.”

“Yes, between your physiology and your temperament, that would be very unwise.” The clink of her cup cut off my half-hearted retort. “Do you have any mortal friends who might be willing to take the plunge?”

I barked a bitter laugh. “All my mortal friends are wizards or cops.”

“Unfortunate. I see why you came to me.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers together. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Damn. Damn. Why was I surprised?

“That kind of potion isn’t really my style anyway,” she said. “Illusions and the breaking thereof are rather… outside my typical wheelhouse.”

“I know, I know.” I rubbed my eyes again. “I didn’t think you were making the stuff. I just hoped maybe you knew something. Nobody knows where it’s coming from.”

“The Goblin Market?”

“Obviously some people are dealing it through there, but I don’t have a supplier.”

“Tricky.” She leaned back. “What’s the delivery method?”

“That’s the weird part. It’s topical.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Unusual. No ingestion or injection?”

“No.” I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out the scuffed stainless steel tin, then dropped it on her desk. “Kid up in Wicker Park saw me, dropped this and ran. Broad daylight. I wasn’t even changed.”

“You do cut an intimidating figure regardless.”

I scowled. “I don’t know what he saw.”

She nodded once, then gestured at the tin. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.” I sank deeper into the chair.

She delicately picked up the tin and traced a nail around the lid. “The container is mundane.”

“Yep.”

She turned it in her hands, the battered metal catching the light. Then she cracked the lid.

I braced myself and squeezed my eyes shut. The smell was overwhelming and utterly unidentifiable - syrupy, sickly, wormwood and petrichor and rot. The headache I’d been nursing intensified.

I heard her sniff. Lucky woman. She had to try to smell the stuff.

“Otherworldly ingredients.” There was a click and the smell dissipated. I risked cracking an eye open. She’d replaced the lid and was staring at the container pensively.

“What do you think?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I should be asking you. If I want to identify the makeup of an unknown mixture, I need a full lab and the favor of Hekate. You just need your nose.”

I groaned. “All I know is it’s weird and I hate it.”

“Weird?”

“Weird! I can’t pin it down. It almost smells like something, but” - I waved my hands vaguely - “it’s all wrong.”

Medea stared for a moment, then set down the tin. “Detective, have you ever been to fairyland?”

“I assume you’re not being euphemistic,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“No. I’m referring to the realm of fairy. Built on the ruins of Tír na nÓg, ruled by the Fairy Queen, land of glamour and illusion, home of the people of the hills. You must be familiar.”

“Of course I am.”

“But you’ve never been there?”

“I don’t do otherworld travel if I can help it.” I sat up. “Why?”

Medea idly traced a finger over the tin. “The bones of the fairy realm are very real, but for the most part, the realm is a beautiful illusion starving for reality. Your senses are entranced by a perfect, glamorous experience, but your body and soul waste away. Surely you’re familiar with the harmful effects of fairy food?”

“On paper.” I glanced at the tin. “You think this is some kind of illusion?”

“Just the opposite.” She tapped the lid sharply. “Fairyland is nothing more than the eternal dream of the Fairy Queen, but Tír na nÓg is as real as you or I. A land of promise and plenty, lost to ruin when its link to this world withered away. Its denizens fading to shades, its fruits and flowers rotting and decaying where they grew.”

I frowned. “This… this isn’t your area. Why do you know so much about this?”

She sighed. “Really, detective. Did you really think, over three thousand years, I stayed entirely in the mediterranean?”

“No, of course not-“

“After my flight from Athens I broadened my horizons significantly. I have visited the realm of Fairy several times.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, after the Tír fell to ruin, the quality of ingredients I could acquire plummeted rather dramatically. Gossamer illusions make for poor potions.”

I tried to cut through the fog in my head. Things were coming together. “You… think this was made in fairyland?”

“I think it was, at minimum, made from fairyland.”

“The smell… is odd. Like a floral perfume gone wrong. Rot making everything sweeter.” I scowled. “Not an illusion. Illusions don’t smell that bad.”

“Good,” she said. “Then some industrious denizen appears to have scoured the far edges of Fairyland to acquire ingredients from the ruins of the Tír.”

[eccentricallygothic]

Sunshine

Pairing: Recovering Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes | Lab technician!You.

Description: As Shuri's top and most emotionally intelligent technician, you are the one Bucky ends up opening up to during his recovery in Wakanda… And then some.

Warning(s): Top Bucky, bottom reader, his vibranium arm, inexperienced reader, experienced Bucky, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, allusions to unprotected p-in-v sex, nipple biting, kissing, virgin reader, smut with plot, reader and Bucky like each other, brief mentions of his Winter Soldier days, age gap, teasing, humiliation, size kink, allusions to dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

Type: Request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms, here.

Note: Can you tell I am obsessed with the arm?

MASTERLIST

.

It was usual for Bucky's corner of residence to remain deserted. He was still relatively new to Wakanda and people had heard enough tales about his past life to not welcome him with too much hospitality. They didn't take too warm heartedly to outsiders as it was. And a former killing machine was… well, you guessed it. But you were not sure that Bucky really minded. Apart from the bond he had formed with you -very slowly and steadily, might you add- during his therapy in Shuri's lab, you had observed he preferred being by his lonesome and did not mind the isolation.

The more you found out about him, the more you reckoned he probably needed it.

That was the reason why you felt guilt nip at your cheeks when you heard some leaves rustle behind you and when you instinctively turned to see what it was, you found no one other than Bucky staring back at you. Momentary panic settled in your bones but before you could try and ramble your case and embarrass yourself any more, Bucky offered you a small and friendly smile. You had no idea what it was about him that made you all shy and mum because usually you were a very confident and forthcoming person. You were Shuri's top technician after all. But there was something about the way Bucky's blue eyes watched you, how they flickered down your face just momentarily at times, the manner in which his lashes flexed if he looked further down south, and how his tongue subconsciously swiped across his lips during a conversation sometimes. 

It spread warmth throughout your whole body.

… Like right now.

“The… stars are so bright tonight” you tried your best to mask the awkwardness with a casual amiability. What? Bucky made you feel nervous, alright?  

The male only hummed in agreement as he quietly took a perch beside you, letting his longer legs down the edge of the lake that ran behind his cabin and letting his now bare feet touch the water that everyone used for swimming and fun.

The two of you stayed like that for a little bit, Bucky had never been much of a conversationalist in all the time you had known him and it was always you who had to prompt him to speak or engage in casual talk or even a discussion. A content smile played at your lips while you gazed up at the stars. You liked his corner of the land. It was very calming and serene. Perhaps even more so than the rest of Wakanda. Or so you felt.

It was Bucky's corner after all.

“So… how's the new arm?” You nodded towards the black and gold vibranium arm that the lab had finalized after various meticulous precautions and measurements while giving him the best mental and even physical therapy possible all the while. Shuri had called in Bucky this afternoon to finally install it into the socket you and other technicians had built into his side. After one last test to see if his HYDRA conditioning really was gone for good, it had been you who had with the use of tender and nimble fingers locked the arm into place. It had been a rather emotional moment and you were the only tech Bucky had allowed to touch him. Since he had never been allowed any liberty in his past life, Shuri made sure you all respected the man's comfort first and foremost.

You could never have a problem with that. 

“Pretty good, actually” your eyes followed the glint of the moonlight bouncing off the bionic limb as he flexed his fingers and slowly twirled his arm for you to see. “More comfortable too” you were a nerd so it got you excited. And no, the fashion in which the digits of his new hand had stretched had nothing to do with it.

“Yes! Shuri actually wanted to use…” You began the technical ramble Bucky didn't really understand but didn't mind either. “I suggested we instead use…” And it wasn't sympathy humming either, you had learnt that the Soldier had retained his sassy side and if you were boring him out, he had his quiet ways of giving you a shut up call. “Because I knew that it would bite on your skin…” You hadn't realized just how close you had scooted into Bucky and the way you were cradling his vibranium arm and its various crevices while it laid in your lap until his hot breath fanned some of the stray strands away from your face. “S- So…” Your voice wavered from the hyperawareness all of a sudden, eyes flickering down to his lips before you could stop them and your no longer coherent words quivered. “I- I… she… we…” A breathless chuckle escaped him.

“Y/n?”

“Bucky?” You tried to focus and as a result ended up widening your eyes so much that you looked like a fish out of water. What? Straight A bookworms like you didn't enjoy the luxury of knowing their way around the sex of interest. 

“Shut up” his words were outwardly blunt but the tone in which he said them, the half smile which made his lips handsomely droop to one side and the manner in which he leaned in soon after stopped you from getting offended just in time. Though you couldn't really visualize yourself getting mad at him anyways. 

“Okay, Bucky” was all you were allowed to blurt out before his pleasantly soft lips pressed against yours. You whimpered into his mouth from how tender the kiss was and how delicate he was about it. You had no idea what you were expecting and if you were even expecting something, but something so soft coming from a man with a stature like Bucky's, you were taken by a pleasant surprise. The kiss was warm and meaningful.

… But way too short. 

You gasped once you came to your senses and realized the gravity of the situation. You were kissing Bucky fucking Barnes! The kiss had been rather brief– too brief, but it had also felt like an eternity at the same time due to how your brain had declined you of its service.

Bucky was taken aback by your gasp and now a guilty panic began to mar his handsome features. “I… am sorry…” He wasn't as inexperienced as you but there were generations and years of lack of practice between you two and self doubt began to fill him. “I–” you vehemently shook your head when he began to back away.

“N- No! No, no!” You repeated desperately. “No, Bucky!” You finally had him after months of secret wondering and longing and you were not about to let it go. “No!” So you leaned in yourself this time and hurriedly pecked his lips before pulling back a little to look at him to see if he was still comfortable with it. The next kiss you pressed to his lips was admittedly one that caused for guilt to knot up in your chest because his expression had been difficult to read and in case he didn't want to take this any further, you needed to feel him one last time. 

Bucky wordlessly kissed you again and you didn't give him a chance to back away this time. And after that it was a passionate tussle of your hands and lips pulling and sucking down at one another until you were both undressed in Bucky's bed, tangled together. 

Bucky's vibranium fingers cupped the side of your face as he put his hot tongue into the kiss. You were laying down on your back in the middle of the bed and his huge form was bent over you, one knee pushed between your legs. The man knew how to kiss and he certainly knew how to eat, it was clear from how his tongue pressed against yours before it went to explore the rest of your mouth. The way he swirled it around your own sent heat and shivers down your abdomen and straight to your core that had begun to pulsate when you were still outside. 

“Tell me, doll,” his guttural voice made you moan into his mouth when he let his bionic fingers trail down the side of your body before they found a hold in the soft cut between your hip and torso. “Did you fantasize about me touching your pretty body like this when you used to ‘inspect’ the arm, hm?” You blushed severely. Bucky knew a slut when he saw her. Even the shy little inexperienced ones like yourself. He was twice your age and had ten times more experience. 

“B- Bucky…” You felt called out as your ticklish palms -courtesy of his stubble- began to moisten up from the shame his words made you feel. 

“Are you really gonna deny it?” His voice was low and sexily lewd. That tongue of his did the sexy thing again where he ran it along his flush lower lip and your thighs quivered in response to the visual. “Because I've seen the way you used to look at it… The way you looked at it today…” Images of him flexing his fingers as trial from earlier today appeared before your eyes and you couldn't help but wonder if you would feel them tonight. Or how they'd feel if one was to get lucky with him. The thoughts made you want to tighten your thighs against one another, only his knee hindered your wishes. 

“Bucky…” It was a whine this time and he chuckled. 

“Aw, what is it, huh baby?” He hungrily kissed your lips again before he pulled back just enough so he could be audible but not so much that the spit string between your mouths would break. “Tell me and I'll give it to you” you surprised yourself by placing your hand over his and eagerly pushing it down towards your aching pussy. Bucky snickered. “Is that what you want, pretty girl? My fingers in between these sexy little legs of yours?” You sheepishly nodded but said nothing, rolling your hips from the surge of lava his deep voice was causing in your loins. “I am sorry, baby. But this won't do” he clicked his tongue as he pretended to pull away. 

“W- What?!” Your imploration was unintentionally loud. “Why?!”  

The coral of his eyes had become so much darker than when he had first kissed you. “Because you must use your words for me first” his body weight rested on his elbow as he stroked your face with his right hand, speaking in the tone of a man addressing a child. “Tell me what you want” his metal fingers kneaded the tender flesh of your hip as his lips pressed against you in a series of pecks. 

You softly pouted. “B- Bucky!” The whine you let out was accusatory in nature. Because he knew exactly what you wanted. 

“Aw” he mimicked your pout. This man was so different from the recovering sunshine you had known before this night. The disparity caused for a drop of hot arousal to bubble past your opening. “Would you look at this pouty little thing here?” His thumb traced the shape of your bottom lip before he pressed it down with the tip. 

“P- Please…” He was being so mean. It embarrassed you. But it also added to your arousal. 

Bucky was making you work for it. 

“I know, baby. I know…” He pressed kisses along your jaw in consolation, metal fingers coming up to toy with the swells on your chest. “Pretty things like you aren't used to putting in much work, are they?” Well, no. Simply because this was the most action you had ever gotten. But it made your pussy throb nevertheless. “Well, that's not how things work around here, baby. You gotta tell me how you want me first” you whined past the thick bile in your throat but Bucky did not relent, instead choosing to intently watch you until you caved to him and your need. 

He could do that for the rest of eternity anyways.

“F- Fine…” Your voice was a begrudging whisper once you realized there was no way out. 

“‘Atta girl, go ahead…” His voice was a much agreeable velvet. 

“N- Need you…” You cleared your throat since you were barely audible. “Need you, Bucky” your back arched in shock and a whimper escaped you when you went to place your smaller hand on his bionic one to guide it to your pussy only to him twist your nipple that he had been fingering at the very last moment. 

“I am sorry, what was that?” The clamber in his breathing rate signaled that he had heard you loud and clear. But he just wanted to be cruel to your dignity. 

You were on the verge of tears. “Need you, Bucky!” Before you forced his hand down your body again. “... D- Down there!” The lower part of your abdomen was thumping like it did when you had first discovered the state of arousal. 

“Down where?” You felt like screaming at the tease in his tone.

“Y- You know where!”

“Do I?” 

You hissed. “Down there!” You made him cup your pussy. “Here! Right here!” Your breath quivered at the feel of the metal brushing past your sensitive petals. “B- Between… between… Ah!” Your blood curdled at the wanton moan you let out, surprised by your own ability to make such a sound. 

“Oh, so you mean this cute little pussy, huh?” His bionic digits finally spread themselves over your needy core and your mind nearly melted out of your ears. 

“Y- Yes!” You breathily admitted, flinging your head to the side as you gripped his shoulders from the sensory overload, your hardened nipples grazing against his hairy chest. 

Bucky tutted like the teasing asshole he was. “You gotta say it, baby” his fingers squished their way between your pussy lips and the feel of the textured digit running down the stripe between them had you shuddering. “Say it properly. Tell me you need me in this cute little pussy of yours” when you whined in protest, he licked a stripe on the side of your mouth and then sealed it with a hot kiss. “You can do it, pretty girl. You're already doing so well for me” his words had caused you to make a puddle of warm white liquid on his bed. But Bucky didn't seem to mind. “Come on.” 

“N- Need you in m- my…” Your throat dried out and your voice remained absent until Bucky hummed in an encouraging manner and dipped his head between your head and shoulder to pepper kisses along your sensitive throat, metal fingers flexing over your pussy in a rapid, circular design. Your smaller body quivered under his, knees buckling up to press into his sides from the sensitivity of it all. “Need you in my c- cute little pussy so bad– oh!” Your back jerked itself straight when Bucky's middle finger found its way into your weeping cunt all of a sudden.

“Sorry, whose cute little pussy?” His friendly smile had any intentions but.

“M- My cute little pussy!” Your toes curled at your own words.

“See, baby?” His teeth that were busy marking you his grazed against the soft skin of your neck. “That wasn't so hard now, was it?” 

“Oh, Bucky!” He scooped you up against his chest with his other arm and crawled with you until your head was on his pillow and he was hovering above you. Your lips were parted and your balmy pussy was tight around his finger that fucked in and out of you as a steady pace. 

“I think we have ourselves a problem here, doll” Bucky rasped as he tickled your clit with thumb, adding another finger to your opening. You were so wet that despite the tightness of the band, the metal digit slid right in. 

You couldn't help but rock your hips against his hand, your own stroking his arm that rested on your torso while he played with your nipples. “W- What problem?” Any volume above what classified as whispering was impossible for you in your lust dumb and still shy state.

“Your pussy is too tiny for me” and that night you lived to learn that he was right. 

Minutes– no, hours had gone into Bucky opening you up and preparing you for his girth, shushing and consoling you with kisses and praises before your taking. Though you had been insistent that he not stop what he was doing because of how good it felt, tears and snot had admittedly been spilled. 

But the way his thick cock had filled you up to the brim so completely, the manner in which all its crevices had pressed against your tight velvet walls, the fashion in which his tip had created for itself a sensitive spot deep up your cavern, the affectionate and intimate style in how Bucky had snaked his vibranium arm around your form to hold you close against him while his hips had done their eventually brutal work and the length of his cock had rapidly fucked in and out of your stretched out cunt, your fingers tugging at his dark locks whilst his mouth marked you everywhere he desired, the pleasure you felt from the sting his mouth produced, and the bobbing of your knees which lay atop his against his sides… the orgasms had been loud and many. 

Though when the two of you exited his cabin the next morning and entered the line of sight of your employer who was both surprised and impatient by your being late to work for the first time ever, the mangled expressions of passion from the night before were present on neither of your faces, content smiles having replaced them.

You had high hope it was going to stay that way.

.

[24karatcherrygold]

Isolde Astrium III

Born as the daughter of King Mercurus Astrium and Queen Isolde Astrium II, Isolde's existence began with tragedy and transformation. Born as a Mekkan child, Isolde died shortly after birth due to complications. However, her soul found a new vessel in an unexpected way. A robotic servant powered by Traptanium crystals absorbed her essence, and the previously unintelligent machine gained sentience, becoming her new body. Initially distraught, the grieving royals recognized the strange child-like demeanor of the robot and the glowing Traptanium, realizing their daughter's soul now resided within it.

Isolde grew quickly, both mentally and emotionally. Her robotic form never changed physically unless parts were replaced, but her mind retained and processed knowledge with incredible precision. By the time her spirit was ten years old, she had the intellect of an adult while maintaining a childlike curiosity. Despite her parents’ concern, Isolde often explored the intricate mechanical depths of Metaurus, fascinated by the systems that powered the city. Queen Isolde II strictly forbade her from venturing near the island's core, fearing the dangers of the Heart Cog, the city's central power source.

When Isolde was sixteen, her resilience and courage were tested. During a celebration for her younger brother’s birthday, Kaos sent undead marauders to attack Metaurus, intending to kidnap King Mercurus and seize the Heart Cog. While Queen Isolde defended her other children, Princess Isolde led her father into the island's depths to escape the attackers. However, they were cornered near the Heart Cog.

In the ensuing battle, Isolde used her speed and agility to evade the marauders while protecting her father. When a stray blast knocked the Heart Cog out of place, the entire island went silent and began to plummet. Reacting swiftly, Isolde hid her father in a secure area and launched herself at the attackers with mechanical precision. Utilizing her strength, she dispatched the marauders, defeating them with calculated strikes or by hurling them into the island's machinery. With the invaders subdued, she restored the Heart Cog to its socket, stabilizing Metaurus and saving her people.

Isolde continued her role as a protector of Metaurus, never becoming a Skylander but forging connections with them. As a royal, Isolde provides aid to the Skylanders if they visit the island, offering her vast knowledge, mechanical expertise, and the advanced technology of the Mekkans.

-Written by Gold

(In case you’re wondering, this is the redesign of Gearshift)

I had a lot of fun designing Isolde, utilizing a sleek and elegant yet still robotic design. Partially inspired by the creepy robo-angels from Arcane (she probably moves like them too).

I’ll be honest in saying that I created her design before fully reading Gold’s story for her. So she technically never used the Heart Cog as a weapon, and never actually will.

I mean, it’s literally keeping her home from falling into oblivion, so she can’t exactly take it for a spin while running around Skylands willy-nilly.

So I jumped the gun a bit, oh well, she still looks cool.

So here’s our robotic princess, my gift to you. Maybe I’ll do more doodling for her family, I don’t know.

What do you guys think?

Anyways, with the best of wishes, Happy Holidays!

-Cherri

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 87)

She pulled N into their apartment with a groan, having been tensely silent the entire walk, with a huff, she grabbed a sleepy Tera out of N's arms, and with a breif kiss to her delicate head, went to put her in the crib.

“What's wrong? Why’d we rush out like that?” N was right behind her, looking worried. It didn't take long for Uzi to back out of the bedroom and begin to shrug off her hoodie.

A soft blush took over his face, tail kinking up as her clothes hit the floor.

“O-Oh… Uh, R-right now?” He stammered, surely she didn't have them leave early just so that they could have some alone time? That was unlike her. Though it wasn't like the nest was much privacy lately either…

She looked at him strangly, before blushing, realizing how it looked without any context.

“N-No! Dummy, not that. Come here.” She opened her side panel, huffing again as she pulled out all the paper she was using to stop the flow of thick oil, “Eugh…” She whined as it stuck to the paper, leaving strings of oil to come off her.

“Are you bleeding?! Are you hurt?! Is the baby-” He immediately panicked, closing the distance and grabbing onto her shoulder so he could take a closer look, she grabbed the bottom of his chin to shut him up.

“No. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I think, I just need you to test something.” She hummed, pointing over to the fridge where they kept Tera's oil supply. “Get out one of Tera's filled bottles and take off the top, and bring me a empty one, please.”

He did what he was told, quickly setting out one full tiny bottle and handing her an empty one, she took a deep breath and began to fill the new one, he could already tell that this was different… she looked way less uncomfortable and more relieved.

She sat down the newly filled bottle next to the pre-filled one. And then went to go put back on her undershirt with a sigh.

“You have sensors that tell you what somethings made out of, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me the difference between the two.” She explained, pointing to the two bottles on the counter.

He flushed gold, now for a whole new reason.

“But… I'd have to taste them…”

He didn’t care about drinking his girlfriends oil with her permission, but drinking it from a bottle she'd filled with the express purpose of giving to their daughter felt wrong on so many levels.

“It's just oil. I just wanna make sure it's not unsafe for her to drink.”

“But… the human equivalent!” He whined, maybe it was his time at the manor making him feel that way, the time spent with humans making this simple act feel extremely strange.

“Then don't think about the human equivalent! There's no difference between the oil in the bottle and the oil currently keeping me alive!” She argued, and she wasn't wrong, but it didn't make him feel any different about it.

“We've shared oil before babe. It's not any different.” She said a little softer, now dressed and standing behind him, leaning on his arm.

That was true… one night, during a particularly passionate evening. A heated kiss had turned into a double bite, each other's oil pouring into their mouths. It was one of the most intimate things they'd both experienced. But this situation was entirely different.

Still… he didn't want it to be unsafe for Tera either.

He tipped the first small bottle into his mouth and it went down like a shot glass, she was right, it tasted no different then any other time he'd gotten a taste of her oil, even if he did think her’s was the best tasting.

“Just oil. Like normal.” The sensors in his mouth read out normally. 100% pure machine oil; And he made sure the taste was out of his mouth before he eyed the new one and tipped it between his lips.

It was thick and coated his throat, he made a scrunched up expression as intense sweetness spread in his mouth. His sensors got to work.

50% machine oil, 25% organic protein, 25% electrolyte solution.

He blinked.

“Uh, it's…not the same, but… nothing is being tagged as harmful, if anything it's being accepted into my system better.” He said, a little bit surprised at that fact himself.

“What is it then?”

“You want the basic answer or the complicated answer?” He asked seriously.

“Basic I guess?”

“It's oil mixed with milk.”

Uzi blinked, blushed, then looked grossed out, and then horrified.

“That's fucking gross! Are you serious?!” She whined, N nodding his head solemnly, trying to repress that fact himself considering he just drank it.

“Why am I made like this…?” She despaired, covering her visor with both hands with a sigh.

“Aaaand scoop!” In an instant, N was lifting her bridal style, taking her towards the bedroom. “It's decompress time, let's not think too hard about it!”

“I wanna go back to noooormaaaal.” She moaned, completely distraught at this new information. “I'm gross and huge and feel like garbage!”

“You're beautiful and perfect and absolutely nothing is wrong with you.” He replied, laying her on the bed with a certain kind of gentleness, pressing a kiss onto her rounded stomach.

“I don't know how you can still look at me the same way! And It's just going to keep getting worse! If this is exactly like a human pregnancy, it's not going to be 5 months, it's going to be 9! That's really close to launch day!” She went on a small, stress enduced angry rant that N just let her work through for a moment while he took his hat and coat off, replacing it with a loose fitting black shirt.

“Agh!” She finished up as N crawled into bed beside her. Resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her gently, purring.

He didn't even have to say anything anymore, all he had to do was hold her and purr and she already knew what he would say if he did grace her with his words. That she was beautiful no matter what and literally nothing could change how he felt about her, especially something as shallow as her changing appearance.

She sighed.

“I definitely don't feel it…”

He smiled and placed long, trailing kisses down her neck, still purring, now wrapping her up in his tail, his hands making feather light touches up her sides until she was shivering every time they made a pass.

“You want me to be honest?” He hummed, finally, after she started to relax and lean into his chest, basking a bit in his warmth that surrounded her own core like a warm embrace, chasing off the feeling of cold she was often left with.

“This might sound weird, but… I'm really attracted to how you look right now…” He admitted softly.

“You're just saying that…”

“No! It's true! I don't know why but… you, being like this, with our baby. You still being so wonderful with Tera… I-” He stops, embarrassed, before smiling warily “I kinda want to… do this again.”

Uzi turned onto her side to look at him, completely befuddled, though flustered, and possibly a little bit angry.

“You are not getting me pregnant again anytime soon. I will take a copy of your code and develop a special firewall for myself if I have to.” She said, being completely serious, and he smiled again.

“I figured as much.” He chuckled, leaning back into her shoulder and closing his eyes. “But you understand what I mean. I love you either way.”

She looked down at the comforter, sighing and rolling her eyes before looking back up at his soft expression, she returned it.

“Yeah… I do, I love you too, N.”

He leaned down to nuzzle her visor, a spark jumping between them as they laughed and connected their lips, enjoying the moment of privacy…

Next ->

[ckret2]

Chapter 26 of human Bill doing his best to arm-twist his captors into doing anything he wants, featuring: the gang going to the mall, where Bill tries on some of the most ridiculous outfits known to mankind, to Mabel's delight and Stan & Dipper's despair.

(please click on the second image, you can't imagine how long it took to make those two patterns. (Okay you probably can, it was a couple hours.))

####

Bill said, "Well, you can tell Stanford that if he's got a problem with my drinking, I'd like to see him try to get a good night's sleep in an alien body without some kind of sedative! I've got a fresh new liver, three little cans of cider a day won't kill me before one of us finds a way to get me out of this body!"

Exasperated, Mabel said, "Why do I have to tell him? Just talk to each other."

"You think I don't want to? He's the one who's put two doors, an elevator, and a trick vending machine between him and me."

Mabel supposed that was true. "Okay, fine. More importantly: what do you think of going shopping?"

Bill shrugged. "Sure. I'll take any opportunity to go outside. It'll be a good test run for other trips."

Mabel frowned, clearly disappointed by the reaction. "That's it? I thought you'd be more excited. You can finally get more clothing!"

"How much clothing do I need?" He gestured down at himself, wearing his hoodie and a borrowed skirt. "I'm not naked, what more do you want from me?"

"To like your clothing!"

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting you have a whole thing about people other than you being happy."

Mabel socked his arm. "Do you just not care about clothes? I didn't expect you to be like Dipper about it."

Eugh. "It's not that I don't like fashion in general," Bill said, eager to distance himself from the household wet blanket. "I have very strong opinions on other people's fashion! It's just..."

It was just that he didn't relish the idea of standing in front of a mirror, partially nude, staring at the bone-caged skin prison he was locked inside.

He still put towels over the bathroom mirror when he showered.

"Well," he said, "isn't the whole point of fashion self-expression? And��my self can't be expressed in this body." He tugged on the collar of his hoodie, "This is as close as it's gonna get."

"Does clothing have to express your self? Can't it just look really cool?" Mabel asked.

Bill considered that. "I do like looking really cool."

Maybe he didn't have to see it as dressing himself. Treat it like inflicting his design whims upon a helpless human puppet. He'd done that before, he liked doing that. He was lucky, at least, that as far as puppets went, this was an incredibly good-looking one. Aside from the neck.

"Do I have to wear that, though?" Bill skeptically eyed the knit garment held in Mabel's hands.

"Yep! Grunkle Ford's orders! It's to make sure you don't talk to people."

"Can I put it on over my hoodie?"

"As heartwarming as it is that you love it so much: no, you've gotta take it off."

"How come?"

"It's safer this way! Your hoodie might freak people out."

"Freak them out how?"

####

Soos trudged into the kitchen at 3 a.m., yawning, and turned on the lights.

The Bill Cipher, triangular and angular, gold-bricked and one-eyed, hovered in the air.

Soos screamed. "He's back! Everyone watch out! You stay away from my family, you—" Soos picked up the nearest weapon and chucked it at Bill.

The spatula bounced harmlessly off his chest and clattered to the floor. Bill took his hood off. "Wow. Thanks for getting my hopes up, Questiony."

"Oh, whoops. Sorry 'bout that. At a quick glance, that hoodie makes you look a lot like... you." Soos looked Bill up and down again. "Hey. How come you're standing on the kitchen table in the middle of the night?"

"Eh." Bill shrugged. "It passes the time."

####

"Sometimes I curse your species's overactive pattern-detection instincts." Bill snatched Mabel's offering out of her hand and trudged to the bathroom to change.

He emerged a moment later wearing the tank top Mabel had knit for him, and tugged out the hem to examine it. She'd cross-stitched on the chest: "STAY BACK! I BITE SALES PEOPLE!"

"I'd be pretty insulted," Bill said, "if this wasn't the funniest thing I've ever worn."

####

Stan pulled the old Diablo near the porch to minimize the amount of time Bill would spend in open air between confinement in the shack and in a vehicle; then waited leaning against the car, glowering at the ground like the world's surliest chauffeur (he'd even put on his suit), for Dipper and Mabel to escort the prisoner outside.

The second Bill stepped off of the porch, he looked up in amazement. "What is that?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at Bill's face, then in the direction he was looking. He was staring straight into the sun without squinting. Mabel said, "The... sun?"

"No, not the sun! I mean the—" Bill gestured toward the sun. "Whatever it's doing."

Mabel looked skyward again. She didn't see anything else Bill could be referring to. "Shining?"

"I know what sunshine is!"

"Then what are you asking about!"

Bill studied the sky a moment longer. Finally, he said, "Guess I don't know what sunshine feels like! It's been a long time since I've been naked in the sun."

Stan's head snapped up to stare at Bill. Bill was still completely clothed.

After another few seconds, arms outstretched, staring in blank-faced wide-eyed wonder at the sky, Bill concluded, "I think I'm photosynthesizing again."

This time Dipper looked over. And, Bill was still completely human—a species notoriously well-known for not photosynthesizing. "'Again'?"

Bill didn't respond. Instead, with a shrill cackle that startled the nearby birds out of the trees, he took off at a full sprint.

"Hey!" Dipper tore after him. Stan tensed up, but then grunted, leaned back against his car, and waited for Bill to trip.

Bill's run was the awkward bouncing gait of a moon astronaut on fast forward: someone who at some point had definitely learned how to run, but clearly wasn't used to doing it in this body on this world. He switched to an odd sideways crab-walk gallop—which was, surprisingly, faster—and then attempted, and failed, a cartwheel. Dipper dove for Bill, Stan laughed at them both, and Mabel shouted encouragement at Bill from the porch; Bill hopped back up just before Dipper could catch him.

He attempted a second cartwheel but was caught in the middle by an invisible force jerking his wrist. He yelped and tumbled to the ground. "I think I twisted my arm!" He sounded way too giddy about this.

Mabel looked down at her own wrist and the chain bracelet. She wasn't being actively pulled toward Bill; but nevertheless she couldn't pull her wrist any further away from him. "It worked."

"Of course it did!" Breathing heavily, Bill got to his feet and leaned backward on his heels, using the tension of the bracelet around his wrist to keep from falling. "What, did you ever doubt me?"

"Yes," Stan said. "Always," Dipper said. "Every time you open your mouth," Mabel said.

"You're all haters."

Mabel took a flying leap off of the porch. Bill toppled on his back again.

Once they were all loaded in the car—Dipper in the front glaring in the rear view mirror, Mabel and Bill in the back with Bill making faces at the mirror—Stan said, "Okay. I'm not getting you anything nice, because you're not worth it."

"Aww. And after I made you almost five grand?"

Dipper's jaw dropped. "He what?! When did—"

Raising his voice, Stan went on, "So we're going to Shop Thrifty. Any complaints?"

Bill said, "You don't wanna go there."

Stan turned to give him a dark look.

"You don't," Bill said. "They were robbed this weekend. Security's gonna be high."

"No they weren't, you can't know that. You're making that up. I'm calling your bluff."

Dipper cleared his throat. "Actually... yeah, they were robbed. I've been investigating the possibility that it might've been..." At the sight of Bill's keen gaze in the rear view mirror, Dipper trailed off into mumbles.

Bill waited a second longer to ensure Dipper was properly cowed; then said, "See? You can trust me! But if you want to go to the thrift shop..."

"Ha." Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel; then reluctantly said, "I guess we could go to the mall—"

Mabel pumped her fists in the air. "THE MALL!"

"Yes! Finally!" Bill dragged his hands down his face in relief. "Civilization! Other people!"

"Hey!" Stan turned around to point threateningly at Bill. Bill held up his hands to block the accusatory finger. "This still isn't a social trip. Talk to anyone and we're going back to the car."

"I know, I know. I just wanna look at people. That's all!" Bill said. "You know that feeling when you come out of a couple weeks in the hole? When you're grateful just to see anybody?"

Stan's frown deepened; but he didn't say anything. He just turned around, ignored Dipper's curious look, and started driving.

Mabel and Bill high-fived.

####

As the car pulled into a parking spot, Mabel handed Bill a pair of mirrored sunglasses with one lens popped out. Bill rolled his (yellow, slitted) eye, but he switched his eyepatch over to the lensless side of the sunglasses and put them on. "Nobody'll notice my eyes. They only look inhuman at certain angles."

"We're being extra cautious," Mabel said.

"If you're gonna make me wear shades any time I'm in public, can I at least pick a pair I like while I'm here?"

Mabel said, "Sure!" at the same time Stan said, "Not a chance." Dipper looked between the two of them, and said, "I'm with Stan."

"I wasn't taking a vote." Bill leaned forward to shove Dipper's hat over his eyes, and followed Mabel out of the car before Dipper could retaliate.

Bill's grin got a little wider and his gait a little bouncier the closer they got to the mall, until he was practically skipping through the automatic doors. "Look at this place! I can't remember the last time I visited a bazaar this booming in person! Two stories, even! Wow!"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Gravity Malls was, by far, the smallest mall either of them had ever visited. You could see from one end of it to the other in a straight shot, and the anchor store was just a more popular chain's discount outlet location. Dipper muttered, "He's trying too hard to talk up the place."

Mabel giggled. "Maybe he's easily impressed."

Bill evidently didn't care. He was too busy taking in the sight of all the stores and all the people who didn't hate his guts (or, at least, didn't know they did). He chipperly said, "Hey there!" as he wove around a haggard teenage kiosk salesman.

"Hello?" Snapping into sales mode, the kiosk kid said, "Are you interested in genuine gold-plated signet rings? We have rings with dragons, eagles, Chinese characters, American flags, football teams..."

Bill did a u-turn without slowing down. "Boy, am I! You got any secret societies?"

Stan wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders—"No, you're not interested."—and dragged him away. He lowered his voice. "What happened to no talking to anyone?"

Bill laughed. "Sorry, I got excited!"

"Uh-huh. Get 'excited' one more time, and I'll assume you're 'forgetting' the rules on purpose and we're going home."

Bill stopped laughing. "Okay, fine." He trudged alongside Stan, sulking.

####

Stan tried to direct them toward the discount outlet store; Bill looked wistfully at Edgy On Purpose; Mabel overruled them both by grabbing Bill's hand and bodily dragging him to the coolest store in the mall: 18th Century, the place where the almost-and-barely college kids shopped, and Mabel's newest fashion avatars now that she'd had a year to explore "teenage" fashion and had gotten over it. "You can tell it's for college kids, because they also sell bedsheets and inflatable furniture," she explained as they entered, just before abandoning Bill with Stan as she ran off to start collecting clothing on Bill's behalf. Bill and Stan side-eyed each other, and Bill drifted off toward the small home goods section.

"Ooh, Dipper look." Mabel pointed at a sales rack. "Out-of-season prom dresses! Those are the fanciest dresses!" She dove in eagerly, checking the size tags.

Dipper hovered behind her, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to stand far enough away that it didn't look like he was an active participant in this shopping trip but not so far away that people might start wondering why a thirteen-year-old boy was in the dress section by himself. "Are you shopping for B—for Goldie, or for yourself?"

"For Goldie, obviously! He likes having a triangular silhouette, he needs dresses!"

"Does he want dresses?"

Mabel made a vague I dunno sound. "I haven't asked him yet."

"Maybe you should?"

"It's fine, I'm going to! He can tell me when he catches up!" Mabel pulled out a sequin-studded dress that looked like it had been constructed out of fluorescent pink peacock feathers. She paused. "Okay, it's not exactly his style, but do you think he might try it on anyway?"

Dipper groaned. "Mabel, he's a guy, he's not gonna try on a dress. He wears top hats and bow ties, remember?"

"I know, but... just for fun...?"

Dipper shook his head. Mabel sighed.

Bill rounded a rack of clothing, using a curtain rod he'd claimed out of the home goods section like it was a cane. "Hey, star girl. I know we're here on a focused mission, buuut do you think we could spare a minute to try something just for fun..." He trailed off as he and Mabel simultaneously realized they were both holding a pink peacock dress. Bill's face lit up. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up! How are you this cool!"

"Where's the dressing room."

They took off for the back of the store, Bill tripping over a whole clothing rack as he went.

Dipper watched them uncomfortably, decided he didn't want to follow, and picked his way to the front of the store, where Stan was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed tightly and a sour look on his face. Dipper asked, "Does it worry you how well Mabel and Goldie..."

"Ohhh yeah."

####

Bill swung open the dressing room door. "Well? Whaddaya think?" He fanned out the feathers as best he could with his hands. 

"It's so beautiful," Mabel said.

"It's hideous," Stan said.

"It's kinda baggy around the shoulders and chest," Dipper said.

Bill shrugged. "I've got the shoulder span of a snake and the hips of a sumo wrestler, what do you expect?"

"It's okay, I can tailor anything we get," said Mabel, who had never tailored anything in her life but was sure she had a book on it in Piedmont.

"Tailor nothing," Stan said, "we're not getting this! What, are you crazy?"

Bill said, "Obviously."

Stan gestured at him. "What in the world would you wear this for?"

"Who cares? It looks cool and this body is merely a meat armature to drape coolness upon." Bill stepped back into the dressing room to eye the dress in the mirror. "Color's a little uniform, though. I'd need some accessories to break it up."

"I think you're right," Mabel said, stroking her chin. "You know what color goes best with hot pink?"

Simultaneously, she and Bill said, "Lime green," then cracked up and pointed at each other excitedly. 

Stan and Dipper exchanged a tired look.

####

"How about this one?" Bill looked at Stan and Dipper, who were standing guard while Mabel searched for more clothes. "It's obviously the best shirt in the store, but is it me?" Bill was wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt covered in bright multicolored triangles with animal skin patterns—leopard, zebra, tiger, checkers—and a pair of black jeans that fit his hips but consequently drowned his ankles. "Trick question. It's me all over!" He laughed. His laughter petered out. "It's... it's more me than I am. Wow."

Dipper and Stan didn't laugh. "I'm a Hawaiian shirt kind of man," Stan said, "but if the choice was between that thing and going naked, I'd go naked."

"Keep your nudist fantasies to yourself, Stanley." Bill studied his reflection again. "The shirt's great, but they make the pants look dull. I need something that coordinates with it. But what..."

Mabel returned while Bill was musing on his shirt. She wordlessly held out the pair of cheetah/tiger print rainbow leggings she'd been retrieving. It matched the shirt perfectly, in the sense that they both had so many colors on them that inevitably some of those colors were accidentally the same.

Bill accepted the leggings with an expression close to awe. "You're a fashion genius," he said. "Are you sure you don't want your own planet?"

"Not from you," Mabel said.

And for a moment, Bill actually almost looked hurt.

####

Bill held up several shirts thoughtfully. The first was an eye-searing abomination; the second was a retina-burning nightmare; and the third was about the same, but it was covered in smiley faces, and somehow that made it worse.

"I feel like they'd all have the right psychological effect on my enemies," Bill said, "but all three is a little redundant, isn't it?"

Not looking, Stan asked, "Is the effect you're trying to have boring your enemies to death? Because it's working."

Bill scowled. He chucked all three at Stan's face. "Fine! Stick them in the 'maybe' pile, I'll narrow them down later." By this point, the "maybe" pile in Stan's arms was almost too big for him to carry.

"My willingness to indulge Mabel is losing to my annoyance at indulging you," Stan said. "I thought this was going to be a quick trip."

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda getting into it."

"Well, would you get out of it and dress like a normal person?"

"Okay, fine. I'll try on something subtle—"

"Goldie!" Mabel ran up waving a ruby red jacket over her head. "Look what I found in the clearance bin! Glittery vinyl!"

Bill's eyes widened.

Reverently, Mabel said, "It looks like a 50's diner booth."

"Is the picture on the back a—?"

"Yeah, it's a puking kangaroo."

Bill snatched the jacket from her hands. "I'll try something subtle after this."

Stan groaned. "I'm gonna stretch my legs." He dropped the "maybe" pile on the floor. "Dipper, make sure the demon doesn't try to end the world while I'm gone."

Dipper resigned himself to the fact that this shopping trip was never going to end, and curled up on the floor to wait to die.

####

"Now, this is a keeper," Bill said, examining the summer dress in the mirror. With Stan gone, Bill had a moment of leisure to properly inspect the way the fabric moved and draped. He was using the opportunity to grab the skirt and twirl it like a three-year-old who'd never worn a dress before. "It really speaks to me."

Mabel asked, "Is it because it's covered in—?"

"It's because it's covered in yellow triangles. I know what I like!" He spun around to see how the skirt flared out, tripped and fell over—"I meant to do that!"—and heaved himself back upright with his curtain rod cane. "I'm fine, shoo." He waved off Mabel's attempt to help, and brushed off the dress. "Too bad it looks weird with pants. I'd prefer my legs covered, but dresses are the only thing most human stores carry that flatter my shape, so what're you gonna do."

"What about more leggings?" Mabel asked.

"Do they have any black ones that don't look like cheap spandex?"

"I think I saw some that look like jeans!"

"It'll do. Good thinking, star girl."

"Any time, triangle... guy." Mabel paused. "Hey... just out of curiosity—since I don't think we ever really covered this, since you're an alien and all—aaare you a guy or a girl?"

"I'm a triangle! C'mon, you already know that."

Mabel opened her mouth to protest that Bill hadn't answered her question; hesitated as she realized that maybe, in fact, he had; and instead asked, "Is a triangle more like a guy or a girl?"

Bill paused as he gave the question a moment of contemplation; and then he said, "No, not really."

Dipper, who'd been using the "maybe" clothing pile as a pillow and pretending to ignore everything Bill did, finally gave in to the urge to glance over curiously.

Mabel concluded a triangle must be either in the exact middle of the scale, or else outside of it completely. "Oh! Okay."

Bill elbowed Mabel and said, "Keep this bit between you and me," blithely ignoring the fact that Dipper was totally within earshot and now seething about being ignored in return. "But if anyone else on this planet asks, I'll usually imply I'm a 'man,'" he put the word in finger quotes, as though he wasn't wholly convinced that "men" really existed, "but—that's strictly for business."

"Business?"

"You know, work stuff," Bill said dismissively. "It makes things easier. See, for the last few millennia, most humans have taken a male's suggestions a bit more seriously than a female's, even when the entity they're talking to is an all-knowing extra-dimensional divine alien angelic muse. Crazy, right?" He said this like he was imparting some great secret he'd figured out by himself.

"Ugh, yeah," Mabel groaned. "Sexism."

"Sexism," Bill sighed, as if he had any dog in this fight at all and wasn't just pretending he could commiserate with his only local friend. "So I figure I can get things done faster as a Bill than a Jill. But honestly? Your local gender system doesn't make any more difference to me than it would to you if somebody asked how many sides you have."

Mabel considered the matter of her hypothetical sides. "I feel like I'd have seven sides."

"Oho! I stand corrected." Bill laughed. "I would've pegged you as a pentagon. I'll remember that."

Mabel had no idea what information she'd just conveyed to Bill, but she felt like he was impressed she had an answer at all.

####

"How about this one?"

"I love it. It's so mysterious," Mabel said.

Stan said, "I thought you were gonna try on something subtle?" 

"What's more subtle than camo! That's the whole point of it!"

Dipper said, "You're not wearing camo."

Bill looked down at his galaxy print tank top, galaxy print button up, galaxy print skirt, galaxy print leggings, and galaxy print sneakers. "I guess what counts as camouflage depends on the context."

"Wh—" Dipper blinked at Bill in disbelief. "In what context could this possibly qualify as camouflage?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Drily, Stan asked, "You got travel plans taking you to outer space anytime soon, pal?"

Bill's shoulders slumped.

"Now put on something you might actually wear," Stan said.

####

Bill opened the dressing room door with four sets of basic black leggings and pants, a couple shorts, and several plain tops in various shades of gold and yellow. "Okay, done."

"Not gonna model each of these for us?" Stan asked.

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Fine! You kids don't need to weigh in on these—they're not as fun as the other outfits you were busy unappreciating." Bill shoved the whole pile against Stan's chest, burying the "maybe" outfits he'd insisted he would narrow down. "Okay, let's go."

Stan scowled. "How many outfits did we agree to get you?"

"You didn't." Bill headed to the front of the store.

Mabel started to follow him, paused, glanced back at Stan, and said, "Maybe you can just... toss some of it back on the racks?"

"Maybe you can toss most of it," Dipper said. "How much does he really need, like two shirts and two pants?"

Mabel laughed. "Shut up, that's what you wear!"

Stan rolled his eyes, but headed to the front of the store with an armload of clothing.

The cashier smiled as Bill approached, read his "I BITE SALES PEOPLE" shirt, and quickly turned her attention to Stan. "Hi! Did you find everything you needed?"

"Yeah, and then some," he grumbled, shooting a look at Bill and Mabel. He dumped the pile of clothing on the counter with a heavy groan proportionate to the emotional weight of carrying Bill Cipher's shopping, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where'd I put my wallet?"

As the cashier scanned the clothes, took off the security tags, and stuffed them into bags, Stan alternated between snatching up the bags to sling them over his arms—looking grumpier with each one—and searching for his wallet. "I'm sure I put... ah-ha!" He withdrew it triumphantly. "There! I know I've got a twenty in here somewhere."

The cashier immediately stopped scanning to give Stan a perplexed look. Hopefully, she asked, "Will you be paying for the rest by card?"

"What do you mean, 'the rest'? How much could this stuff—?" Stan grabbed the price tag on one of the shirts, squinted at it, and grabbed his chest. "Holy moly! For one shirt? This is robbery!"

Mabel winced. "I guess it's a little bit pricier than the thrift shop, but it's not that bad—is it?"

"Not that bad?! For prices like this, it'd be cheaper to get a boat ticket to Taiwan and rob the sweatshop where they sew this stuff! Forget it!" He started sliding bags off his arms and tossing them back on the counter. "Keep them! We're not shopping here!"

"But Grunkle Stan!" Mabel grabbed his coat. "We just found a bunch of stuff that's perfect for Goldie! Please?"

"Do you think I care? He'd be wearing potato sacks if I had my way! We'll go to the outlet store, those are the prices he deserves."

Dipper groaned. "Do we have to do this whole thing all over again?" He and Mabel both looked pleadingly at Bill, waiting for him to protest the return of his carefully-curated wardrobe of tacky golden horrors.

Bill shrugged. "If he didn't bring enough money to the mall, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Hey! This isn't on me! If it wasn't for you, we'd be at the Shop Thrifty right now!"

Bill scoffed. "Come on, Stanley. It's the 2010's. Even at a thrift store, how far do you think a Jackson's gonna carry you?"

"I think it'd get me a sock I could cram in your mouth, how do you like that?" Stan tossed the last bag on the counter, told the dismayed cashier, "And he looked ugly in everything he picked out, anyway," and stomped toward the door.

"I'm so sorry," Mabel said to the cashier, and hurried after Stan with Dipper. "But Grunkle Stan, we found so many nice things here! We could at least get a couple shirts or leggings..."

"Hey," Bill said. "It's okay, kid."

Mabel shut her mouth, but she didn't look happy about it.

The party trailed behind Stan past a couple of stores, before Bill sped up to walk alongside him and asked, "Well? What's our haul?"

Stan grunted. "What?"

A slow, sly grin spread across Bill's face. "Come on. You can fool the humans, but you can't fool me. What's our haul?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill raised a brow.

Stan only lasted a couple of seconds before he cracked a mischievous smile as well. "Oh, did you mean this haul?" He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a pair of leggings. And then another pair. And then, from his other pocket, a Hawaiian shirt. And—

Mabel gasped. "Grunkle Stan," she hissed. "You didn't!"

"Aw, man." Dipper smacked his forehead. "So all that was an act?"

—and three pairs of socks out of his jacket sleeve, and a dress from his inner coat pocket, and— "Yeeep. I've still got it."

Mabel and Dipper exchanged an exasperated look.

"And you were gonna hit the thrift store." Bill lifted his sunglasses so Stan could see him roll his eye.

"Hey, they've usually got less security than the mall. It's a safer score."

"Cheaper, too."

"You shut up! I'd like to see you do as well."

A bright smile snapped across Bill's face. "Would you! Then get a load of this—" He showed off the front and back of one empty hand, then the other; curled one into a fist; pushed his fingers into the fist and plucked out a corner of fabric; and then, like a magician revealing a long line of scarves tied at the corners, pulled out one garment after another, shirts and skirts and pants. Mabel buried her face in her hands. Dipper looked around like he expected mall security to run up and immediately arrest them all. Bill said, "What'd we lift, almost half the stuff I picked? Neither of us managed to get the kangaroo jacket, did we."

"How did you..." Stan trailed off, jaw dropped.

Bill smugly stuffed the clothing back under his tank top. "All that, and... these." Bill lifted one foot and wiggled it, showing off the yellow foam clogs he'd changed into.

"You just walked out with those on?"

"Sure! You'd be amazed what you can do in plain sight—as long as you don't call attention to it."

"Where the heck are your sandals?"

"Not my problem." Bill gestured vaguely back toward 18th Century with his curtain rod cane. "From the lost-and-found they came, to the lost-and-found they shall return."

Stan, having had his attention called to the curtain rod cane, snatched it out of Bill's hand with a muttered "No weapons," and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Bill watched it go with an expression of miffed resignation. Stan said, "Okay, but how'd you get the security tags off all of those?"

And Bill's grin was back. "Maybe I'll show you—if you show me how you got all that clothing out of those bags into your pockets."

"I thought you were watching."

"My eye is better than my physical coordination. Give me a couple pointers and I'll give you a couple."

Stan looked doubtful. "I just saw you hide half a suitcase under a tank top. I don't think you need any more help with..."

"I'll sweeten the deal," Bill said. "I'm not really a clogs guy. You set me up to walk out with a pair of proper dress shoes, and I'll help you grab a couple rings from that booth at the door?"

Stan scowled. Bill grinned wider. "Come ooon. I know you were eyeing those rings too."

"If we get caught and you throw me under the bus, I'm dragging you down with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it! I don't think either of us can afford to show up on the police's radar, do you?"

"All right, fine. You've got yourself a deal, Cipher."

Mabel silently slid her cell phone over to Dipper so he could text Soos and Ford about this unsettling development.

####

(Thanks for reading!! As always, if you made it this far I deeply appreciate any thoughts & comments you want to share! Stay tuned next week for the unsettling development to get Even Worse.)

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 11

The second one for today. Steve and Eddie have an actual conversation about their wants and needs from the relationship.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Eddie laughed when Steve explained the reason for the flowers that night over drinks. “Do you really think your parents will leave you alone now?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But they’ll fuck off for awhile at least. And honestly you can’t buy that kind of peace.”

He smiled. “Damn straight. My own dear ole dad came out of the woodwork when Corroded Coffin hit it big. Tried to take credit for teaching me to play guitar.”

Steve leaned forward, chin on his fist. “I’m guessing that’s nowhere near what actually happened?”

“Oh hell no,” Eddie scoffed. “He taught me how to hotwire cars, blend into crowds to get away from cops, and how to lie through your teeth so convincingly that no one could tell. But you want to know who did teach me how to play? My Uncle Wayne. The man who took me in when the cops finally caught up with the rat bastard.”

Steve sighed wistfully. “God, what I would have given to have an Uncle Wayne. But sadly, when the test came back as infertile all they could think about was how to ‘recoup the loss of having an omega for a son’.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I wish I was,” Steve said mournfully, shaking his head. “Most of the men on my dad’s side of the family were alphas and if they weren’t then they were omegas pumping out babies like a machine.”

Eddie winced and took Steve’s free hand in his. “I’m sorry, baby. That’s got have been so hard.”

Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand with a sigh. “The disappointment was so palpable in that doctor’s office you could cut it with a knife.” He shook his head. “They even refused further testing, even though my great-great grandmother on my mother’s side was a golden omega.”

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyebrows shooting up. “Damn. Those are super rare.”

Steve nodded. “I have two friends with red hair and that’s more common than a golden omega.”

“But if they were so desperate for money why didn’t they test for it?” he asked gently.

Steve shrugged. “My dad is a skinflint. The cost of the test outweighed the gamble on my chance of being ultra-fertile instead.”

“Damn just think you could have had your choice of any alpha in the country,” Eddie teased, “if they had and you turned out to be one.”

Steve shook his head, wrapping Eddie’s hand in both of his. “Nah, I prefer it this way, I have a job I love, a best friend I couldn’t live without and you. If I had been a golden omega, my parents would have made me chose from the crustiest, conservative assholes they could find.”

Eddied ducked his head and blushed to the roots of his hair. “So I’m assuming the label sent you a copy of the interview today?” he asked shyly.

Steve nodded. “Of course. You were so cute.”

“So call me stupid,” he said clearing his throat, “but I didn’t know escorts were allowed partners. I looked it up, a couple even have bonds. Like how the fuck does that work?”

Steve laughed bright and clear and Eddie went to remove his hand from his, but Steve held on tight.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, babe,” Steve soothed. “I was laughing because Robin thought that you weren’t aware and told me to clear it up with you. That was the main reason for drinks tonight.”

Eddie blinked at him owlishly. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “But to answer your question about how omegas with bondmates can still be escorts, you forget that a lot of what we do isn’t about sex. Everyone associates escorts with sex, but that’s just a common misconception. Sometimes people just want the attention of a kind omega with no strings attached.” He kissed Eddie’s knuckles gently. “And then there are the ones that want a ‘cheating’ scenario without the drama of actually cheating.”

Eddie frowned. “So how does that work?”

“They want to have sex with a bonded omega,” Steve explained. “But without having to worry that there would an actual alpha gunning for them.”

“And their alpha doesn’t care they’re having sex with other alphas?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gentle and curious, not judging.

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Things can change, of course. A famous Starcourt escort Mia Sanchez retired last year because her alpha asked her to. But they had been bonded for fifteen years before retirement.”

“Huh.”

That filled Eddie with a warmth he didn’t know he was missing until that moment. He licked his bottom lip slowly.

“And if I wanted to properly court you,” he asked easily, “what would you say to that?”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’d say yes.”

Eddie leapt from his seat and came around the table to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Steve laughed, breaking the kiss, but Eddie didn’t mind. He couldn’t be happier.

“So you don’t want me to chose between you and my job, then?” Steve asked, referring to their contract.

Eddie shook his head. “If there was a way that you could be happy with both, darlin’, that was choice I was always going to make.”

“What about the Grammy’s and your rut?” Steve asked, concerned. He felt bad, but he still wanted to get paid for those things. He didn’t want to suddenly have Eddie expect them for free now that they were courting.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Eddie murmured into his omega’s ear. “The contract will still be for those things, we just won’t have a fake break up of our fake relationship after my rut.”

Steve’s lip wobbled. “Would it be a real break up of a real relationship?” he asked softly.

Eddie pulled him in for a big hug. “Not for all the gold in all the world. Okay?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m okay with that.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to sit down in his chair. “So for the Grammy’s I looked over those two outfits you sent me for suggestion on what you should wear.”

Steve smiled, grateful for the change of topic to something safer and more comfortable for him. “Yeah, which one did you prefer? I mean, I have closet full of amazing clothes and if nothing suits your fancy...” he half shrugged, “it gives me chance to go shopping.”

Eddie laughed. “No, no. I loved them both. Though taking you shopping has it’s appeal...” He shook his head. “I’m getting off the track here. I want you to wear the mini to the awards and the pant suit to the Vanity Fair after party.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he grinned. “That is a fantastic idea. I love it.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Eddie said with a grin. “Do you get to wear much stuff that’s just for you or do you have to be ‘Starcourt Escort’ twenty four seven?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a bit half and half if I’m honest. I don’t have to be dressed to the nines all the time...”

“But if you don’t,” Eddie said with a growl, “all the tabloids say that you’re ‘letting yourself go’?”

Steve blushed and nodded.

“What would you want to wear if you weren’t ‘escort Steve’?” Eddie asked, motioning to the waiter that they needed another round.

“It’s stupid,” he said, tucking his chin tightly to his chest. “I’m a fashion plate. That’s what I’m supposed to be.”

Eddie clicked his tongue and wagged his finger. “None of that. I won’t let anyone talk shit about my boyfriend, not even himself.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “I like the polos, Henley’s, and chinos look. Lame I know.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That was not the answer he had expected at all. He thought it would have been sweat pants and baggy sweaters.

“It’s not lame if it makes you feel good about yourself,” he insisted.

Another couple of bottles of beer arrived and Steve grabbed one. He just held it in his hands. He let out a long sigh.

“You know how we can roleplay situations for clients?”

Eddie nodded. They had done the meet-cute in a bar roleplay just last night.

“There’s one you won’t find on my list,” he continued. “At least not anymore.”

Eddie could feel the tension build between them. Whatever this was about was fucking hard for Steve to talk about.

“Sometimes busy executives and business owners like to have a scenario where they come home to a cute little omega housewife. If it’s a female omega, think the 1950s type. Dresses and high heels.”

And suddenly what Steve was talking about hit Eddie like a fist to the solar plexus. Male omegas would be in the polos and chinos. But the roleplay had tainted Steve’s love for those kinds of clothes and it made Eddie furious.

“And if you’re seen out and about wearing them,” he guessed, “people think you’re doing the roleplay, don’t they?”

Steve flushed in shame. He nodded once.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Are you sure you like this job?”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Yes! The good far out weighs the bad. Like ruts without an omega can actually fuck up an alpha body. Like completely wreck it to hell. So I get to go in and help these alphas that don’t have an omega they can trust and help them through one of the worst weeks of their year and that it happens multiple times, anywhere from three to five depending on their age. Yes, I’m trained to be charming and great in bed, but that? That’s what makes everything worth while.”

He was panting at the end of his rant, eyes wild, hands clutching Eddie’s fiercely.

Eddie chuckled. “All right, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Steve ducked his head and Eddie gently lifted it back up with two fingers. “I like that you’re passionate about what you love, honey. It makes you sparkle.”

Steve looked down at his watch and cursed. “I’ve got to go.” He looked back up at him. “But I’ll see you on Friday?”

Eddie grinned. “It’s a date, sweetheart.”

Steve hopped off his seat and walked away.

Eddie shook his head and murmured, “Hate to see you leave, but damn do I love to watch you go.”

Steve ass looked amazing in whatever the guy wore. But now Eddie understood his need for hyper-masculinity. Even when he was wearing that golden dress, it highlighted his flat chest and broad thighs.

People made assumptions about who Steve was based on what he was wearing at all times and if he was even the slightest bit not what people expected he got hell for it.

In a lot of ways, Steve’s every move was even more scrutinized than Eddie’s and he was the frontman of a very famous metal band. He couldn’t imagine living the way Steve did. But despite all the hang ups and downsides, Steve was happy and you really couldn’t buy that.

He paid the tab and walked out onto the pavement. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He let out the smoke slowly and flicked away the ash.

Eddie was content with his lot in life for the first time since he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. Wayne was always supportive of whatever Eddie wanted to do in life and was happy to hear about Steve.

And even happier when Eddie had called him this afternoon to tell him Stevie might agree to date without all the hoopla of the agency. Everything Eddie did, Wayne was sure to hear about it first.

Wayne was home. No matter the distance. Something Eddie never thought he’d find out here in California.

Stevie was quickly becoming home for him. He never thought he would want to mate, not after seeing how horrible his parents acted. But now?

Now he couldn’t wait to start courting the most beautiful omega in the world.

Eddie took another drag of his cigarette and then flicked it away. He hailed a cab and gave directions for home.

He couldn’t wait to show Steve off on live television. And maybe just maybe win a Grammy or two.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth

[payasita]

if u cant het a permanant tattoo get some temporary ones lol

holy shit ok you definitely didnt mean it in the way im thinking but in the context of the upcoming wedding, i cannot think of anything funnier

im not gonna do that because i dont have beef with the bride (my cousin) but the idea of getting like, a sleeve full of temporary tattoos out of a quarter machine or whatever JUST to put them on for a family member's wedding is like. utterly indecipherable levels of power play. no one would know why i did that. i would not offer an explanation either because fuck if i know why either. but it would look like some sort of revenge plot and would start a family war that'd go on for years. my mom wouldnt know how to defend me. she can't pull the queer card because im not even out (i mean i'm not subtle but the queer thing is in there with tio's messy divorce and why abuela's youngest son is blonde [abuelo was not] vis a vis Things We Don't Talk About) so the best course of action would be to never invite me to the same functions as this cousin and occasionally test the waters by bringing up that i exist once a year. cousin has a baby. that baby would learn in like ten years that they have an auntie that mama wont talk about and theyd think that the auntie must have killed someone or something but no it turns out they just showed up to mama's decked out glamorous rose-gold themed instagram curated wedding in two sleeves of 35 shitty vegeta and pikachu tattoos from the corner bodega, making several expensive photos utterly unusable. and that'll be it. theyll blame me for it when abuela dies

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Can I have a strength chart of your skeletons? Like, who are the stronger ones in a fight? Which one can break you in half like it's nothing?

It's from the strongest ones to the weakest ones.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He is toying with you. He adapts to every kind of situations to the point it's near the impossible to find a weakness. He masters all combat styles, close range, and long-distance, his attacks are extremely powerful and drain people's life force the way classic Sans does. He is unpredictable, testing several attacks to see which one is the hardest for you. And once he finds your weakness, you're pretty much dead.

Mafiafell Papyrus - Torpedo is extremely good at fighting, he got trained since he was a kid to become a mafia leader. His aim is very precise and because of his very high level of violence, he can one-shot a strong monster. He knows martial arts too, and he's very good at self-defense. It's hard to surprise him. He's a great strategist and often predicts how fights will go. He's extremely dangerous and with Wine, probably one of the most deadly. You don't want to fight him, really.

Swapfell Sans - He has the most LV with Torpedo and Wine. He is silent, precise, and doesn't hesitate to attack by surprise. He's incredibly good at guessing other people's moves and he adapts his strategy depending on his opponent. His purple magic is pretty unique, even in his world. He can trap souls in complex bullets pattern, making his opponent feel like they're suffocating and constantly pressured. Rare are his opponent to recover quickly after a fight. He's a killing machine.

Horrortale Papyrus - He is a pacifist, and you're very lucky. Because if Willow really wants to, he can break you in half like a stick. He can uproot literally any tree. You really don't want to fight him.

Underfell Papyrus - Edge is a scary opponent in a battle. His attacks are strong, precise, and merciless. He knows what he's doing and added to that he is a great strategist who can be unpredictable. However, his patterns are often the same, so once you fought him once and survived, it's not impossible to beat him. His Undyne has the same problem, as it's something they learned in military school. It's better to master an attack to perfection than improvising and missing a target.

Killer Sans - He's a mercenary and he's the best at his job. He has a deadly aim and his very high LV makes him deadly in one hit or two. However, he has a big mouth and he can be distracted if you start to flirt with him. Sometimes, his jobs are too boring as well and decides to spare you randomly just to see what will happen. He can definitely kill you, but he's unpredictable and can randomly save your life. You're not sure how to react.

Mafiatale Papyrus - He doesn't have strong magic like Edge or Nox, but he is a master in martial arts. He's crazy good in hands-to-hands and once he's reaching you, you have pretty much no chance. However, he's not good at dodging, so he can be taken down with a gun or a bow.

Dustale Sans - Despite being a relentless killer, he doesn't look for fights anymore. However, if you attack him, well, cry. He has the strength of classic Papyrus combined with classic Sans's strongest attacks. He is quick and he's using his teleportation skills as a weapon to hit at a safe distance. If you attack him, most likely, you won't survive.

Horrorswap Sans - Nugget is a vicious one. His magic is not as strong as it used to be, but he is still really strong and he tends to hit in the back. He's a silent attacker, you usually don't see him coming and it can be deadly really fast. Added to that, he's a survivor and knows how to defend himself in death or life-type of situations. He's dangerous.

Disbelief Papyrus - He's like Papyrus, except he finally accepted his magic is strong and that he doesn't have to be scared of it. It's Papyrus at his full potential, and with training. After what happened Underground, Delta refused to stay defenseless and asked Asgore to train him. He's pretty much as strong as Undyne was, but with attacks that can hurt three to four times harder.

Underswap Sans - He's equally as good as classic Papyrus, but with more advanced training as he is really a police officer, and deep inside, a little bit of a royal guard. His bullets are more precise and he is terrifyingly good at finding weak points.

Undertale Papyrus - Since he was a little skeleton, Papyrus always had trouble with his magic because it was way too strong and wild for a skeleton of his age, or any monster really. No one wanted to have him as an opponent because of how unpredictable his attacks could be. Long patient-years of Sans training helped him to control his bullets better, and Undyne kinda improved his efficiency as their friendship grew stronger. Papyrus doesn't like to hurt people for nothing and will always find an alternative way. Even when he's fighting, he usually holds back his magic by fear of injuring someone. However, in a real fight against a really angry Papyrus who wants to hurt you, you don't have a chance. It never happened. But who knows, maybe?

Horrortale Sans - His magic is very unstable so he doesn't use it often. However, he has the physical strength of a bear and he won't hesitate to use it if he feels threatened. He's not unbeatable, but he's for sure very scary and difficult to fight with.

Mafiafell Sans - He's not good at direct fighting, but he has his overtrained dogs that can deal terrible damages on his command. He's also very good with explosives and he is a great strategist. He tends to plan his attacks. If things go how he planned, it's usually deadly. He's not good at improvising, however.

Error - He's neutral. As long as you don't attack him, he's not attacking you. However if you attack him despite his warnings, well, cry. Error can pretty much erase you from time and space. Luckily for you, because of his bad eyesight, he's not that precise. If he gets you though, you're dead. But if you're clever, you don't start a fight with a destroyer to begin with, what are you even thinking?

Outertale Papyrus - He is terrifyingly good with space attacks. By that I mean he's throwing a large number of bullets in every direction and good luck to dodge (a bit like what classic Asgore can do, but a little less powerful). However, this comes with a major problem: he runs out of magic very quickly, which forces him to eat a lot of magic booster and defend before attacking again. Usually, people keeps him as the last straw because, well, no one expects a huge attack like he can do at the end of a fight.

Horrorfell Papyrus - He still has a good hand on his magic, which is incredibly precise, but the loss of his legs is disabling him in a fight. He was a hand-to-hand attacker before, and he now has to rely on long-distance attacks, which is not his best skill. But he's learning fast, and if he has to, he will gladly perfect his attacks. However, he wants a peaceful life now so he would be equally happy if he didn't have to.

Mafiatale Sans - He's not really a fighter but he has a very good aim when he's using guns. However, he's lazy and doesn't like to fight too much, so sometimes he's missing on purpose so his attacker can run away and he doesn't have to fight anymore.

Undertale Sans - He's very dangerous because of his Karma skill which can inflict as much damage as the level of violence of his opponent. Luckily, Sans hates to fight and will pretty much wait to be on the verge of dying to retaliate.

Horrorfell Sans - He's not that strong, but with all the LV he gained Underground, he has more confidence. Don't underestimate the fact he has only one arm, he is very good with a dagger. He prefers to defend, but he can do real damage if he wants to. He's done being bullied by stronger monsters.

Underfell Sans - People usually think he is strong because he looks scary, but really, it's all bluff. Red can fight, but he's actually not that strong and can get overwhelmed quickly in a fight. He can fight drunk people with no effort, but if the guy wakes up and starts to retaliate, he usually retreats or uses defensive tactics to get out of the fight in one piece.

Farmtale Sans - Never stand between a farmer and his precious tractor. Sam doesn't have any magic, but he has fists and he is surprisingly good at using them. It's even surprising him sometimes. When he's really angry, he can deal actual damages and he's hard to calm down, which makes him actually dangerous.

Ink - Ink is a pretty good fighter, but he's chaotic. His attacks are not precise and he tends to miss a lot. Added to that, he has the attention time of a goldfish. He can stop in the middle of a fight to do something else, or he can simply decide he's bored and leave. He's not really a fighter anyway. He tends to create chaos and then let everyone else deal with the consequences of his actions.

Swapfell Papyrus - Oh, he can fight if he wants to. But he hates it. He doesn't like to fight, he's not good at it and it's tiring him a lot as his magic got damaged with his addictions. If he can, he prefers to talk or divert his opponents with terrible pranks until they give up.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - His magic is defensive, not offensive. He can protect himself really well, to the point that when he's fully hiding behind a protective spell, you can't reach him. However, he can't really attack as he deals low damages and if he ever runs out of magic, the best thing he can do is run for his life.

Outertale Sans - Like Coffee, his magic is defensive, and he's even a healer actually. He's good at supporting people in fights, but he's not a fighter. He prefers to stay in the back and help rather than fighting directly.

Dancefell Papyrus - The best he can do is slap people hard. He's not a fighter. He uses his magic in his everyday life to, like, hold the camera while he's doing a Tik Tok. But if you really want a fight, he can punch once or twice pretty good.

Underswap Papyrus - Nah, man. He's a pacifist. He has the basics he learned in school in his childhood but that's all. He can defend himself if he's attacked, more or less, but he's really not good at attacking. He prefers to flee or, if he can't flee, pass out on the floor hopefully looking dead enough for his attacker to leave him alone. He's basically an opossum.

Dancetale Sans & Papyrus - They don't really have attacks like the others. They have magic boosts that help them to control their breath and energy so they can last long in a dancing contest. But that's pretty much it lol. They're not fighters, at all.

Dancefell Sans - Not only he doesn't have magic to attack or defend himself, but he's also a coward lol. If someone attacks him, he pushes a random guy in front of his attacker and runs for his life.

Horrorswap Papyrus - He doesn't know how to fight and he has no will to fight anyone. Even when he's attacked, his defense bullets are usually ineffective in stopping anything. He prefers to hide or flee and waits for the fight to stop.

Farmtale Papyrus - If you look his way for too long he might cry honestly. He's way too anxious to get in a fight and he hates hurting people (or getting hurt by the way, he's not really resistant to pain).

[sexhaver]

hey I have an ungraded Alpha Chaos Orb I got from a blind egg machine in the 90s. how do I get it graded and what's the best move for me with this thing? should I sell it, or is it going to continue to acquire value?

ohhhhh man that's a Spicy Meatball. first step would be getting ahold of a jeweler's loupe and doing some basic at-home checks for whether or not it's fake. the most common is the Green Dot Test where you look at the green dot on the back of the card:

there are also some other tests you can do but the efficacy of those can vary depending on the set the card is from (i.e. sometimes legit cards can still fail); r/mtgfinance is very helpful with walking you through the specifics of these

once you determine it's not an obvious fake, the next step would be getting it graded. the gold standards here are Beckett and PSA. picking which one to use is a subject of great debate; generally PSA is preferred by Pokemon collectors and stores in Japan, whereas Beckett is preferred by MTG whales (i.e. your target audience). PSA is more lenient on specifically the centering of the card though so it might be worth sending it into them depending on how that looks. also before sending the card in to any service, get multiple high-quality scans of the front and back in case a dispute arises. both Beckett and PSA are wayyyy more reputable than that card service i posted about a few days back that just declares their customers' cards fake and then steals them, but when dealing with something this expensive it pays to be cautious. i would also recommend insuring the package you mail it to them in

once you get a grade, you can decide how to proceed from there. Chaos Orb specifically is banned in basically everything so it really only has value as a collectable, which means you can probably just leave it in the plastic "slab" you'll get it back in. on the plus side, it has a LOT of value as a collectable. i don't have a finger on the pulse of alpha card prices but you're looking at multiple thousands of dollars minimum. however, you are going to run into some issues because 1. you're someone with no sale history selling a really rare and expensive card and 2. there are so few Alpha Chaos Orbs floating around that there aren't really enough sales to pin down a market price, but not so few sales that you want to go through an auction house. you definitely do not want to sell to a physical LGS (local game store) because they are not going to beat the best offer you can find online (they mostly have the edge when selling in bulk). your best bets here are probably either ebay or this facebook group, but bear in mind that ebay takes some percentage of the sale (i think 14%?) and tends to side with the buyer unconditionally if a dispute arises. if you take the facebook route, DO NOT ACCEPT OFFERS FROM PEOPLE SLIDING INTO YOUR DMS. THEY ARE LOWBALLING YOU.

im answering this one publicly so people can chime in if they have any other advice they want to share, but in any case, your first step here is to get your hands on a jeweler's loupe

[explodingquails]

BG3 Origin Characters and the Florence & the Machine Songs that remind me of them

I gave in and am sharing this list now. Potentially long post below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Astarion

Between Two Lungs

And my running feet could fly Each breath screaming "We are all too young to die" ...

Gone are the days of begging, the days of theft No more gasping for a breath The air has filled me head-to-toe And I can see the ground far below I have this breath and I hold it tight And I keep it in my chest with all my might

Gale

Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)

*for best listening experience please substitute Midas for Mystra in your head

The looking glass, so shiny and new How quickly the glamour fades I start spinning, slipping out of time Was that the wrong pill to take? ...

This is a gift, it comes with a price Who is the lamb and who is the knife? Midas is king and he holds me so tight And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Karlach

Seven Devils

Seven devils all around me Seven devils in my house See, they were there when I woke up this morning I'll be dead before the day is done ...

They can keep me out 'Til I tear the walls 'Til I save your heart And to take your soul And what has been done Cannot be undone

Lae'zel

Queen of Peace

*my favorite F&TM song ever for my favorite origin character :)

Like the stars chase the sun Over the glowing hill, I will conquer Blood is running deep Some things never sleep Suddenly I'm overcome Dissolving like the setting sun Like a boat into oblivion 'Cause you're driving me away Now you have me on the run The damage is already done Come on, is this what you want? 'Cause you're driving me away

Shadowheart

Which Witch

*this is just the universal song for religiously traumatized characters

And it's my whole heart Weighed and measured inside And it's an old scar Trying to bleach it out And it's my whole heart Deemed and delivered a crime I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out ...

And it's my whole heart While tried and tested, it's mine And it's my whole heart Trying to reach it out And it's my whole heart Burned but not buried this time I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out

Wyll

Shake it Out

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back And given half the chance would I take any of it back? It's a fine romance, but it's left me so undone It's always darkest before the dawn And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat 'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me Looking for heaven, for the devil in me  But what the hell, I'm gonna let it happen to me, yeah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's all! I might do a second part for some none-origin characters if I find the inspiration. Thank you for bearing with me if you made it this far :)

[coffe-book-club]

i love you so 𓍢ִ໋🍂₊˚୨୧⋆｡

info: toxic tom kaulitz x sweet fem! reader

summary: not all that glitters is gold.

disclaimers: toxic relationship, bullying, mention of anal sex and blood, love bombing, handling, emotional dependence.

with this one-shot i'm absolutely not saying that tom kaulitz is a bad person, this is a figment of my imagination.

a month has passed. at first tom he seemed like the sweetest and most loving guy ever, he always wanted to carry my backpack, he always wanted to go to my favorite coffee shop, to get beagles with avocado and scrambled egg inside. always showed up at my door with a bouquet of beautiful flowers, to then prepare a dessert and then cuddle on the sofa watching gilmore girls, or simply spending the afternoon making love. write me love letters... in short he seemed like the perfect guy. but when we decided to let me get engaged again... he became the toxic and bad guy he always was again, as if he had transformed.

i wanted to give tom one more chance, because i still loved him. but he hasn't changed at all and will destroy everything that i build in this month. he made me believe that he was sweet and loving, while he was just manipulating and brainwashing me to have power over me again. my biggest mistake was to believe that he could really change.

he made me believe that he loved me, so that i would fall for him again. and this is the ultimate proof that he will never change. every time i give him a chance, he will break my heart once again.

i have always worked very hard at school, always taking a lot of notes during lessons and studying a lot at home and doing the homework assigned by the teachers. wanting to go to a good university, always getting the highest grades in the class, the professors and the dean always rewarded me in some way. but the only thing that has always mattered to me is making my parents proud and every time I show them my tests or go to parent and teacher interviews, they always come home with a twinkle in the eyes.

i work very hard in order to achieve my dream of studying at the best university in the country. i want to be able to make my parents proud too. and as my grades are among the highest of my class, my parents support me with everything. they want their daughter to be successful and also see how hard i work for it. i spend long hours, learning at home on my own, just to be successful because i know that it will make my parents proud. i want to achieve this dream of mine, at all costs, even if it means sacrificing much of my time and life.

after a long session of angry sex, where tom put me in every possible and imaginable position and with as many sex toys. now i'm lying on my stomach, with my legs still shaking. while tom is lying on his back, smoking a joint. while we are still naked, while with his free hand he continues to spank me. i observe his well-defined body. his beautiful face and his chest, his big cock, still perfectly hard and erect... “uhm... i feel so so good and satisfied. but i didn't even think that anal sex would hurt so much the first time”

“shut up! you are disgusting and no one cares about what you want or what you feel, fuck” i'm still lying on my stomach and tom is lying next to me. the bed is covered in my blood and sweat, and i can feel how much of an absolute failure i am. he looks at me with disgust and i remember the feelings i had only a few hours ago. i feel so ashamed of myself.

i feel a shooting pain in my chest, at the height of my poor heart. now too broken. numerous tears form on my eyes at his mean and cruel words.

i turn my face away, so i can watch the gray sky, from my window next to my bed. my sheets are slightly stained with blood and cum. afterwards i will have to wash them well by hand and then put them in the washing machine. “i'm so sorry”

“you should be sorry. you are the worst mistake of my life!” he still looks at me with disgust. he doesn't care that my heart is broken and that i feel so bad right now. he doesn't care that he completely destroyed me again, without any reason at all. he doesn't care about me or my feelings, he never has and never will. “you really thought i loved you and changed? you can only disappoint me” he says to me in a hateful way.

“but... but it's you who have returned to me, not i to you” my long hair falls on my white sheets with little blue flowers, while tears roll down my chubby cheeks slightly red from the long sex session. the sadness persists in my poor heart, now too broken and destroyed. from the person with whom i'm unfortunately still madly in love.

he chuckles in a cold way and shakes his head slightly. “tou always believed every word i said and believed in every lie that i told you. you always went back to me. it wasn't me who returned to you” he smiles at me, but his smile turns into a cold and hateful expression when he says the following words.

“i could never love you, you useless hoe” he just wanted to break me, to get me back to him, so he could destroy my self-esteem and confidence once again. i close my eyes, letting my salty tears roll down my cheeks, not saying a single word. i had given him my heart right away. i had given him all my love and sweetness, thinking that he could love me too. but i was wrong. i close my eyes and the tears continue to roll down my cheeks. i'm so sad right now and i feel so broken. he doesn't care at all what he's saying and how he's hurting me. “you are useless, you can't do a single thing! you are not good for anything at all”

the words hurt me deeply. and i think about how i always tried to make him happy, but it was never enough for him. i sniffle, then get out of bed and sit down with difficulty. my butt hurts really bad, but the pain in my heart almost makes me forget the pain of the long anal sex session. i bring my hands closer to my cheeks, to try to dry them. under her expectant gaze and his cold heart.

“you are so stupid! you have wasted everything i have said to you. and that little brain of yours will never be able to change. you are a stupid ho and will always be one” he says to me, his expression not showing a single emotion. i hear his cruel words, which only break my heart more. i still remember how he said he loved me and now i feel so stupid, because i believe his words again. i didn't learn a thing from the last months.

i look down, observing my sheet where in some places it is stained with blood and others with cum. saying nothing, remaining silent and heartbroken. all my attempts to make him happy and loved always went up in smoke. my treatments have never been of any use, as well as my love for him.

he smiles at me again and kisses my forehead, while my tears roll down my cheeks and my butt hurts so badly that i can't even stay still anymore. “it's always your fault. you are the reason for all the bad things that happen to you” he strokes my hair gently and still gives him that loving look. my biggest mistake was to give him another chance. “i only wanted the best for you, but you always ruined everything...” he says to me, with such a calm and loving tone in his voice. he kisses my forehead softly, stroking my hair. trying to manipulate me further, trying to make me believe that it's only my fault. “i'm... i'm so sorry”

i answer him with a trembling and extremely sad voice, continuing to look at my sheets, which until a few hours ago were clean and fragrant. i just want him to hold me in his arms, kissing my head, caressing me with love. telling me that everything is fine and that he apologizes for his mean words and for breaking my heart. but i know that will never happen and that i will always have to apologize.

“oh, my lovely sweetheart...” he strokes my hair again and then caresses my face gently, while he looks into my eyes. “i'm so sorry, that i said the things i just said to you. i shouldn't have. you are the sweetest, most caring and loving person i have ever met. i don't deserve someone like you...” he tries to manipulate me once again. and it works perfectly. “please forgive me, my sweet angel” i move closer to his warm body, resting my cheek on his shoulder. wrapping my arms around his waist, sobbing over and over again. knowing deep in my heart, everything he's telling me, he doesn't mean it.

now i'm back where i always end up when i'm with him. i'm broken and i cry and he comforts me. he gives me the love and affection i so desperately need right now, but which he will take away from me again within a few days or a few hours. “shhh, everything will be fine, y/n” he kisses my forehead and strokes my hair gently, while i cry in his arms.

small sobs leave my lips, as tears roll down my cheeks and lightly wet his shoulder. you hold him tighter to my body, seeking that warmth of love that i desperately need. in need of his love, which i will soon no longer receive, because it is a matter of moment. for those few minutes or hours, i can feel loved again. he gives me that affection and that warmth that i crave so much. i'm in each others arms again and nothing could make me happier right now. “how much i love you...” he whispers softly, while i hold onto him even tighter. i know that this feeling i have right now won't last long, but i don't care about that right now. all that matters right now is that i feel happy, loved and appreciated again. i miss him so much and this is the proof that i still love him.

i bring my lips close to his neck, kissing him softly and with love. “i love you so much, my little moon” i speak to him softly, sobbing from time to time, tears still streaming down my face, crying in his arms. “please stop crying, my baby. i don't like seeing you so sad. you don't deserve to be sad...” he looks at me with the sweetest expression imaginable. he strokes my hair again and kisses my cheek, while he tries to convince me that he loves you once again.

“i'm so sorry for my earlier mean comments...” he says to me, smiling in a loving way, while i still cry in his arms...

hii 💌 how are you? these days i'm more at work, than at home or with my friends. in my old profile 'i love you so' there was a mini-fic, so i think i'll publish the other parts here too ☺️ next week i will publish more headcanons, especially on georg listing and gustav schäfer, because they deserve a lot of love too. i apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors, but english is not my native language. xoxo flo.

[kittycaitvi]

Fantastic [CaitVi]

Vi works at her sisters Cafe called "Timebomb Cafe". She goes out with her friends Mel and Maddie on Thanksgiving as they don't celebrate and had nothing better to do. She meets Vi, and it goes from there.

This is multi chaptered but I figured I'd post chapter one today. Also posted on AO3!

It was a cold, rainy morning on November 28th, 2024. Vi was working Thanksgiving at her sister's cafe. Not out of force, just for fun. It was a holiday that Vi and Powder chose not to celebrate due to the sad passing of their father. It was his favorite holiday. Although there was an exception of a possible friendgiving involving her sisters boyfriend, Ekko, but that was rare as he was cooped up in his office accompanied by his awfully short professor with a long name she couldn’t remember. The streets were empty with the occasional couple sharing laughs and carrying shopping bags. Vi was tough and independent, or so she thought. She was well known in her local boxing scene for being the toughest out of anybody, yet outside of the ring she felt profoundly lonely and weak. She wanted what those random couples on the street had and wanted it badly.

The store was just as empty as the streets with the exception of an older male with a damaged eye that was testing in the middle of what Vi assumes to be a burn scar. He was sat near a window, fingers clacking away on a small laptop. He looked straight out of a movie, a villain of sorts, but she knows that’s a silly thought. Vi had a terrible habit of people watching and making up stories about the people around her. “Probably just a finance bro.” she mutters to herself, laughing softly at her own joke. 

That’s when she hears the soft jingle of the door opening that signals a new customer. She looks up and notices a tall and slim woman with hair such a deep blue her icy eyes could blind you with their brightness, they sat on eye bags that curved her skin beautifully. She was something people write about. She was so amazed at her she couldn’t even notice the two other women beside her, one ginger that resembled that of a bunny and the other being yet another woman with gorgeous dark locs styled in a bun with gold loc rings that complimented her complexion. 

Her friends sit down at the table but she only sets her black purse down, waltzing to the register where Vi was standing nervously pretending to do some work by fidgeting with the empty coffee machine. She feels the blue haired woman in front of her immediately without even having to look up, her presence was something you only come by once in a lifetime. It was suffocating, concussive even and the scent of the nameless woman’s vanilla bourbon perfume made her head spin. 

“Hello, welcome to the Timebomb Cafe! What can I get you?” She tries her best to sound like a normal person but her voice comes out a bit awkward and shaky, in sharp contrast to the strong personality she puts on to literally anyone else but the unnamed woman smiled upon hearing her speak instead of laughing nervously to ease the awkwardness. “I’ll have a black coffee, and those two will have caramel macchiatos.” she said it with an almost flirty tone, but Vi chalked it up to her imagining things. She asks if that’s everything and the woman nods. 

They hold a stare for a bit too long before Vi decides to speak, “That’ll be $7.50. Oh, and a name for the order?” After she finishes her sentence she hears her younger sister laughing behind her and she can only assume it was because you only ask for a name with to-go orders. She knows exactly what she’s up to, but Vi doesn’t care. “Wow, that's awfully cheap. I was expecting to pay more. You’re not giving me a discount, are you?” she says with a playful wink that makes Vi’s heart want to jump out of her chest. 

After a short pause she remembers she forgot to say her name, “…And the name is Caitlyn. With a C.” Vi nods and thinks of what to say while she taps at the digital screen. “Of course not, but maybe I could some other time. Nice hair by the way.” she slips the flirtatiousness in as smoothly as she can as to reciprocate her energy. Caitlyn seems shocked by her returning the sentiment. It makes her cheeks flush, a red gradient on her porcelain skin. 

A pause was exchanged while Caitlyn figured out what to say and she couldn’t help to admire her face. Who wouldn’t? Vi was beautiful. She stares at her name tag now that reads; ‘Timebomb Cafe: Vi’. “Well thank you uhhh…. Vi. Cute name, is it short for Violet?” she stutters over her words for the first time in years and she knows exactly why, embarrassingly so this woman intrigued her and she needed to know everything about her. She almost forgets to hand Vi her card to which she scrambles to get it out of her pocket, shyly handing it to the black and red haired woman.

“Yeah… I usually go by Vi for whatever reason but you can call me whatever you like best.” she answers as she takes the card from Caitlyn and for a few seconds their hands touch. “I’ll bring your drinks in a second so feel free to sit down, Cait.” she smiles as she taps on the screen some more. Caitlyn looks at her almost mesmerized as she gets handed the receipt for the order and her card. She says a quiet thank you as she walks back to her friends, stuffing her card and receipt in her wallet in a rush. 

“Wow, that took a long time, Cait!” Maddie complains. Maddie was a very ‘clingy’ friend. It was weird and everyone noticed it, but Caitlyn tried to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she was like that with everyone. She wasn’t. Mel bumps Maddie on her shoulder gently at her comment with a giggle, “It wasn’t thaaaat long…. But I did notice you talking to that really hot barista for a little too long.” she jabs playfully to which make’s Caitlyn flustered. 

“No I, uh, was just having some small ta—“ she was cut off by Vi approaching their table, setting down each drink carefully. Maddie is looking at Vi just as much as she was, which made her annoyed for some random reason. “Your name’s Vi, huh? You kiss girls or what?” Maddie questions her and the air seems to change. Vi chuckled nervously while Caitlyn and Mel told her to not say that, apologizing on her behalf. 

“I do. You’re not my type though, sorry.” she answers before walking away. Caitlyn and Mel erupt into a laughter that you encounter when something is so stupidly funny that it makes you laugh until your sides hurt. After the laughing stops Mel turns to Maddie who’s sat beside her. “I figured you knew how to talk to women, that seemed a little desperate.” Her playful comment makes Maddies eyebrows furrow in irritation, but that doesn’t last long as they go on to a different conversation. 

Caitlyn fidgets with the lid of her coffee, wanting to talk to Vi again. She’s never been the relationship kind of person, but she could be for her. She was so uniquely beautiful and has something other women she's met don’t seem to have. Her eyes wander down to her cup as she begins to pick it up to take a sip and that's when she sees some writing on the cup. Squinting, it read:

‘U’re cute. Hope to see U around :)’.

Caitlyn almost squeals like a teenager when she sees it but she tries to keep her composure while biting her lip. She didn’t want people to see the softer, more emotional side of her. She wondered why Vi didn’t put her number but shrugged it off as her trying to be respectful and not push too much which is honestly something she appreciated. It was a different behavior she never received from anybody and although it was the bare minimum she is used to people like Maddie so she really isn’t used to it. She makes a mental note to come back tomorrow morning.

After a bit of talking and giggling their drinks were empty and they were all getting a little hungry. Mel had the idea of going to this restaurant across the street and Maddie seconded but Caitlyn wanted to stay and admire her new love interest. “Are you not on call, Maddie? I thought you had to go in today.” Caitlyn asks but barely pays attention as her eyes are fixed on the black and red haired woman wiping down a random table. Maddie replies something like ‘No. I took today off for you… guys.’ but she wasn’t really listening, she was too focused on wondering what this woman's life story was because she looked so happy but when you look deeper, her eyes seem so sad. It was something she compared to a bruised strawberry, so sweet even after being bruised. 

Mel notices Caitlyns excessive staring and whips out her phone to send her a message so Maddie doesn’t get all weird and possessive under the guise of being a ‘caring friend’. After some typing and more staring, Caitlyn is grabbed out of her daze by her phone violently buzzing. She takes it out and reads it while chewing her lip.

‘I’ll take her to get some food. Go get your woman ;).’ Caitlyn giggles and types a quick ‘TY!!!’ accompanied by a heart emoji. She says her goodbyes as she walks them to the door, reassuring Maddie that she’ll meet them in 15 minutes. Maddie tries to protest, but is pulled away regardless.

Vi is still cleaning the table as she feels a tap on her shoulder. It’s Caitlyn. She’s nervous because she doesn’t know if she’s gonna get yelled at or asked out. She hopes it’s the second one. “I saw what you wrote on my cup,” she says as she puts a hand on Vi’s bicep. Her eyelashes are long and curled upwards but Vi can tell there’s no makeup on her face. She’s just naturally beautiful and it makes her feel like she’s melting into a puddle. “I’d love to get to know you. Here’s my number if you ever wanna show me how to get that discount.” At first Vi is completely speechless, looking at the card given to her. It’s a business card. It makes sense that she’s a lawyer, beautiful and smart. ‘Caitlyn Kiramman of Medarda Law Firm.’ with a number written in black ballpoint pen. It wasn’t her work phone, it was her personal number. 

“Thank yo–, I mean, yes of course. I’ll text you.”

[cottonkhaleesi]

@bookbunny9

Absolutely.

You ever have someone rave over a yarn and internalise it until it becomes your “gold standard” before you’ve even tried it out? That’s what happened to me with malabrigo. I was told it was the softest, the most beautiful; expensive because it was the best.

So I bought two skeins. Sure, they’re nice looking, and sure, the yarn itself is very even.

But whilst doing this project I’ve found the dyeing is only surface deep; the project is dark blue but as soon as one splits a strand, (as one is likely to do accidentally whilst cabling) a shock of white breaks through. This can be a feature, but also if this is the result of tea kettle dyeing, then I’m not impressed.

Secondly, whilst knitting just one (unsuccessful) sock, I’ve discovered three breakages. These are sudden, held together by a single minuscule thread, and don’t look like natural breakages, they look very clean cut, like someone went to cut the yarn here but did not do a thorough job.

All in all, I’ve used softer, I’ve found prettier, and for cheaper.

Malabrigo rant over, now I want to be positive and ask y’all about your tested and true gold standard yarns? What are your absolute favourites to work with and why? What makes them the best? What are their outstanding features?

I guess I’ll go first:

King Cole riot. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you want something with a halo that is also a gradient yarn, can go in the washing machine and tumble dryer on low heats, has wool content for extra warmth, and don’t mind single ply, you want riot.

The gradients are super fantastic, they say it’s a dk but it runs slightly thin (maybe more a 6 ply in reality) and it also comes in chunky. The halo is short and soft and fuzzy, and I have to stop myself from using riot for everything.

[joleneghoul]

This is going to be less of an essay and more of a disorganized infodump where I just ramble about my favorite character Rip has a relationship with and that's Jeff Smith.

I actually find Jeff to be more important to Rip's entire story and character background than Booster. There will also be some mentions of Bonnie because the Rip, Jeff & Bonnie dynamic is pretty important.

Though partially that is because the erasure of Jeff is what has made Rip such a boring character to read within post 90s Booster Gold stuff.

Jeff Smith is probably one of my favorite characters nobody really knows about and comics forgot about (until recently, but I'll get to that).

To sum it up quickly, Jeff is Rip Hunter's partner in the broad sense of the term. He was Rip's mechanic, his best friend, his scientific other half, and even once a cowboy (howdy).

More under the cut because this info-dump got long!

Jeff was Rip's partner from Rip's first ever appearance in showcase #20 and stuck with him onward to the 90s. While the stories had Rip's name on them, Rip and Jeff were postured as more of a duo than otherwise.

Bonnie and her brother Corky were along for the story but not as front and center as Jeff and Rip, hell even the story starts with Rip telling them to stay home while him and Jeff test their time machine by going on a jaunt to the prehistoric together.

The time sphere was first and foremost a creation of Jeff and Rip's scientific and mechanical prowess put together. I find it more interesting this way than if Rip were some sort of solo genius.

Later within the Rip Hunter series from the 60s-70s Jeff Still plays the role of Rip's partner, even saving Rip's life multiple times over. A characteristic that is strengthened as time goes on with Jeff is that he is the more calculated and thoughtful one of the pair. This remains the case in the Time Masters 1991 series.

Jeff, much like everyone gets a redesign for this series and a bit more heft to his character motives/personality. This is a series (while not good) that follows a linear story line instead of a collection of adventures so it was needed. I honestly only reread issues of this series for Jeff because I like the way him and Rip's relationship is handled here, as it strengthens the fact that pushing others away can only hurt everyone involved and being alone can be worse than your fears.

He is introduced not only as Rip's partner but his best friend. According to Rip, Jeff is one of his only close friends on account of his obsessive personality. A lot of Rip's own characterization in my opinion mirrors someone who has OCD. His obsession becoming stopping what he saw the future became while in Booster Gold vol 1. Hell...Will Magnus tells him he's paranoid.

Specifically I think the relationship Rip has to his paranoia and fears vs the relationships he has with others is really interesting. This, while comes up with Rip's relationship to Bonnie, is shown mostly with his connection to Jeff.

Jeff throughout the series is the one to break through to Rip even as he pushes others away at everyone's expense. This is shown in the start when Jeff breaks Rip out of spiraling overthinking, bringing him back with his logical thinking. Then all the way to the end when Jeff comes up with the idea of how to fix the time sphere, while Rip was caught up in his own paranoia and had at that point pushed everyone else away or caused them to leave him.

ALSO Jeff has to tell Rip to trust BOOSTER, who in retrospect is Rip's father. I just find that interesting.

Now, I'm going to be talking about subtext which is just how I interpreted things not saying they were intentional but it's just what I picked up on. Also I have a lot to say about how Bonnie is treated I really hate it because she's so disrespected when shes supposed to be equals to Rip but- a rant for another time ig.

The relationship between Jeff, Bonnie, and Rip (and Cave but not really tbh) are at the forefront of the interpersonal drama. It's worth mentioning that every scene Bonnie has romantically with a man (like Jeff or Cave) is mirrored immediately with Jeff and Rip. Specifically usually when Bonnie struggling with her own relationships vs when Jeff and Rip are coming together.

There is when Jeff shows up to Rip's office in a green trench coat (not pictured in this panel bc he took it off) and sits on Rip's desk to tell him he'll be his partner. Then within the same issue Bonnie in her green trench coat trying to seduce Cave (who is HER scientific partner) by getting on his desk- but then getting rejected.

Then again when Jeff chooses to leave Bonnie (in bed) to go be with Rip VS the end of that issue when Rip solemnly makes the choice to leave Jeff (in bed) to go chase his own hubris. (later we see Bonnie make the choice to steal the time sphere and go live in the future and make her own life teaching people post nuclear war, thank god she didn't end up with any of these men after all that)

Also side note- When Jeff and Rip go to ancient Atlantis together that's practically the first time in issues we see either of them really happy since like, issue 2. The only thing that tips Rip off is once again when someone brings up his paranoia. Also they get these gay earrings.

Anyways at the end because Rip ends up alone, without Jeff who was his only close friend, Rip realizes that time changes everything and to not be so worried about the literal end of the world- and that hopefully in time even he can change and be a better person to others.

....WHICH I feel is totally ignored and thrown away later on when Rip returns as Boosters son and Jeff was erased from the picture entirely (Bonnie still managed some appearances in other media but Jeff did not- not even in lot so I've heard..which is odd because that was inspired BY time masters). Rip became characterized as the lone mysterious savant who always has a plan (or can easily figure one out).

Despite the reader knowing his secret that he is Booster's son, we do not tend to get to see much of their family relationship since Rip is more shown as a mentor than anything else. Otherwise Rip is used as a narrative device for stories to bring in a little time travel spice if Booster or that one treadmill isn't available.

I actually find the more interesting Booster and Rip interactions being the ones where Rip is shown to be overwhelmed, in the wrong, or confused instead of the "guy who knows everything". Sadly we don't get to see this often.

Jeff after over 30 years has come back to comics but not in a way I really like, he just doesn't feel like himself at all but neither does any of the time masters. We haven't seen him much yet but I'm just not excited because the reason we have this "loner" characterization of Rip still is because of the same writer who's bringing them back- and yet again its a case of "Rip is running around alone" "ah that's just Rip". Like I thought we went over why that's bad for him LOL.

Anyways I guess the moral of this infodump/rant is this:

FUN FACT TIME:

Jeff and Rip met at MIT where they were both top of their classes!

He is as smart as Rip who is classified officially as a super-genius.

Jeff according to the DC ttrpg books is as wealthy as Ted Kord was when he was still apart of Kord industries.

He also apparently has connections to the Metal Men and Magnus still while Rip does not.

[mdhwrites]

Idea Pitch: Splitting Sun's Fantasy World

The sun has a hole in it. From there, all shall face reckoning.

This world has had a growing problem for two generations now. The black spots that were always visible in the sun have been coalescing and minorly eclipsing it. However, that has not damaged its rays. It has made them harsher, stronger. Then they all jumped into one spot in the middle and like how the edges of a sun that is covered by the moon are actually some of the most dangerous for your eyes, this caused the rays to only become more extreme.

This shifted the balance of power in the world. A race of nomadic, peaceful and somewhat preyed upon people made of crystals suddenly found themselves making cities as they realized they could use their familiarity with light magics and crystal to create wards and containers for the harshness, helping shield other towns and people from this catastrophe. In two generations, they have gone from the oppressed to the strongest kingdom in the land. Their new prince must soon deal with that fact as letters and gifts from other kingdoms seek influence over the young kingdom and the wrong choice could easily lead to an invasion and crushing of his still peaceful people.

The forests could only be saved in small pockets though, forcing the once proud and territorial elves to go underground, using their nature magic to now force open caves, tunnels and more. Their desperation grew so wild as to make them start taking the elementals of the planet, that had always roamed wild and free, and trapping them. Torturing them. Enslaving them. The elements were always theirs to conquer after all, like they made the trees bow to their whims. They still do not have a voice and so there are no cries to go on deaf, long ears. From an opulent, traditional society, they have become more brutalist and fatalistically progressive, with many of the new generations believing that if they do not embrace technology, they will vanish altogether. The princess of the elves is known to be one of the few who use a technology called a Ripper, a specialized glove that allows one to reach into the very core of an elemental, destroying anything that was before to simply be an energy source for the machine that it will become.

The only race known to the others who was not either erased by this change or forced to radically change were the dragons. They already lived in grand, fortified towns that rose up like mountains and flaunted their wealth, giving them places to hide from the sun and valuables to trade for the crystals that would further protect them. They are also known for arrogance and hubris so their styles match their walls with fine drapery, gold and more. At least, for those who cannot match those who are the best of the kingdom. Dragons like the crown princess who tower over any man in her court and could fight an entire squad on her own wear barely nothing, deciding to show off their superiority in breeding rather than worry about hiding themselves. Unfortunately for her, she is not the heir to the throne, the blessing of white scales having seemingly skipped her, even if her blue scales still make her a noble fire dragon. Instead, her baby brother is the one to be next in line and many worry the severe, warrior-like nature of the princess may lead her to thoughts a noble dragon should never have, even if it fits how their decadence has only survived through pillaging and subjugation of others. That is a tradition too being tested though as the world has taken many of whom they would have once upon a time hurt for those goods and made their easiest target now an ally they must capitulate with.

It is a fracturing point for the world and a time where many are hoping in another decade or two, they may have the chance to take it all. To be the one kingdom in place. To bring together a split world. Whether that be by brokering a peace that will see them all happy, bending the entire planet to themselves because all will need to do so to survive, or simply by conquest now that the rules have been laid out, all are waiting with baited breath as peace settles.

It's simply a shame that much like the growing tumult of the elementals who grow fiercer by the day, who even seem to be coalescing more into more than simply free spirits, something else has already put into place a plan. A whole planet? No. That would be ambitious.

But they have already proven that they can take from the greatest source of light there is so if they could just find a way to open a crack, splitting the fractured lights of the crystalline people would be no trouble, wouldn't it? And then maybe they would have a place to truly call home besides the shadows.

====

This actually stems from a CRPG concept I once upon a time wanted to do. It will never be that, even if I still would love to learn a bit of game programming someday, but I have been humming it over as potentially an audience driven story. Each chapter people would get the chance to pick something to help drive where the plot may go. It wouldn't by any means be the first time I've done such a thing but it would potentially be the most ambitious due to scale and scope.

Which also probably means it will never see the light of day. It's been a real rough time for me lately and my brain is constricting on itself about how I haven't finished a project in over a year and a half now. I know that can just be how my brain is sometimes but it makes how ambitious my brain so often it is more painful than aspirational. *sigh* So with this rattling in my head again, I decided to share some. As always, please feel free to ask questions on the idea. I would love to answer them and if this inspired you then that'd be amazing too!

Regardless, have a good day and see you next tale.

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I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.