#can anyone hear me i’m screaming into the void

[melodyssolarsystem]

CHAT CHAT CHAT CHAT CHATC HATC HATCHEHSUHS IM INSANE REVOATION !!! REVALATION !!!!

SO. we’re starting to see a trend with the vitamins from @daily-vitamin-honami . these “defect” vitamins that we aren’t supposed to take… they have leo/need in them. the whole gang. everyone. with honami singled out. and our replacement vitamins? honami. but shes alone. there is no one else in the image with her

AND WE’VE BEEN SEEING THIS TREND THE WHOLE TIME !!! every vitamin. every vitamin is JUST honami. it’s either a vitamin with only honami in it, or a vitamin deliberately cropped to only feature honami (e.g anniversary illustrations). i’m not sure what this means yet or if it means anything at all (maybe i’m reading too far into this) BUT I REALISED IT !!!! and i couldn’t just. NOT say anything. i needed to scream my thoughts into the void thanks for coming to my ted talk

(ps. please tell me if you don’t want mentions vitahona 🙏 i wasn’t sure where else to put this)

[appleciderjulie]

no because what do you mean there’s a crunchy bit in my pumpkin cake you’re supposed to be soft like damn

[panicismydefaultstate]

I scream out for help, that I’m drowning, and my hand waves frantically as a signal and my limbs flail to keep me afloat while waves crash over me. I can hear their voices, sometimes I can see them on the shore standing and looking at me- why are they looking at me! What aren’t they helping me? I scream louder and they tell me I’m fine, to stop being dramatic, all while water fills my lungs and my will to keep fighting begins to die.

You’re gonna be fine, they say. But I’m convinced they only say it so they can convince themselves that they didn’t need to take my cries seriously.

[sleepingpopplio]

Sorry little timmies who got splatoon for Christmas

But guess who got 21 kills with only 6 deaths in the funny squid game? THIS GAL. WOOOOOOOOOO.

And that’s on being a ride or die tetra dualies main!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you do angst of ford x reader, where reader was Fords assistant and instead of Stanley pushing ford in, reader does while being possessed by bill.

Stanley is still there and they work hard to repair the portal but when Ford does get back he's really upset at reader because he still thinks that they themselves pushed him in and betrayed him. Ford won't let reader explain themselves, he just tells them to "get out his house"

Part 2 is right here

You didn’t want this.

Then again you weren’t the one to push him, Bill was after tricking you into making a deal with him. You should’ve known better than to put any amount of trust in that chaotic dream demon.

You screamed and shouted for either Ford or Stanley to notice the weirdness in your behaviour, the weirdly inhuman smile that spread across your face, anything as you were forced to watch yourself shove Ford into the portal.

‘BILL!’ You screamed but the demon possessing you acted as though he couldn’t hear you as he relinquished control of your body and let you back in it, just so that the last thing you saw of your dear friend was the look of betrayal upon his face as he disappeared into the portal forever.

‘FORD! No! IM SORRY! IM SO SORRY! IT WASNT ME!’ But Ford couldn’t hear you. He was gone thanks to bill you and you knew they no one would ever believe if you were to tell anyone that a demon did the deed. All they saw was what looked like you but not you in any other aspect that counted; However the fact that you were seen doing the crime was enough to fuel their biases against you regardless, fuelled but their needed to be right in everything, and it was difficult to change a persons mind once it’s made up.

‘It wasn’t me…’ you softly murmured to yourself as you collapsed on the floor of the laboratory as a seething Stanley stood behind you.

‘You pushed my brother.’ He snarled. ‘I saw you.’

You only stayed silent, it was better the beer the brunt of the blame then look like a madman trying to plead as to why they wasn’t true, and besides he wouldn’t believe you even if you did manage to make Bill confess before an audience that he had been the one to push Ford while possessed as you. The demonic bastard was far gone now, cackling at the ridicule you were receiving for his actions.

Stanley, not liking that you were silent, pulled you to face him by the collar of your shirt but before he could berate you further, he caught sight of your defeated face and tear stricken cheeks. ‘Go on, blame me because you would be believe me if I were to tell the truth.’ You said with a voice void of emotion. ‘Blame me all you want but I’m the only person who can help you get the portal up and running again. I’m willing to do so but not for you, but for Ford and in hopes of explaining myself to him and pray that he believes me.’ You add and without warning Stanley drops you on your arse and says in a voice equally devoid of emotion;

‘He’ll never believe you, he’s not that stupid.’

And after that interaction you and Stanley spent the next thirty years of your lives together rebuilding the portal, while Stan still blamed you for pushing his brother into the portal, he’s become more lenient as and when he would remind you of the reason you were doing this in the first place; more specifically during arguments after failed test runs of getting the portal open where he’d say to you in the best of the moment:

‘If it wasn’t for you my brother would still be here!’ Before storming upstairs while you remained in the lab, wasting away the midnight oil because you didn’t believe you deserved sleep after all that. You had grown numb to being Stan’s verbal punching bag, and would often times ignore his attempts to forget what happened and make peace with you, for you knew it wasn’t genuine because after you get his brother back you were more then likely to be kicked out of the shack for you had served your purpose for your crime.

So the relationship between yourself and Stan was never good and you tended to only act civil in the presence of Dipper and Mabel, two kids whom you have grown rather fond of during their stay. You remembered the first night they came here and were in high debate on whether they should stay with Stan or leave, you were quick to intervene and said;

‘Your Grunkle Stan is a wonderful man with a big heart despite his rough exterior. So please give him a chance instead of letting first impressions sway your thinking, you’ll be surprised as a result if you do and besides life is meant to be lived without regrets.’

You were literally the reason they decided to give Stan a chance and stay, but you knew you were never going to get that thank you from him, you were the person who pushed his brother into the portal remember? So you just carried on building the portal with him in awkward silence until the day finally came.

The day that Ford came home.

The day should’ve made you happy, ecstatic even but you knew that wouldn’t be the case for you as the moment Ford came out of the portal your blood ran cold.

He was glaring.

He was glaring at you with such a silent rage that you swore that you could’ve been killed by a state like that. But it was also a stare that told you of the damage your betrayal had caused him, he would never forgive you and that was your biggest fear this entire time, a fear that Stan knew and now it was proven true.

‘Ford-‘

‘Stop.’ He told you, breaking your heart. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuse.’

‘But-‘ you tried again.

‘I said no!’ Ford roared as everyone held their breath, even Stanley who had never heard his brother shout, in that moment he actually felt some remorse for you, some.

‘You’re the reason I was trapped in that portal for THRITY YEARS!’ Dipper and Mabel gasped as they too were now looking at you with hurt in their eyes, which made tears appear in the corner of your own.

‘Is it true Grunkle/graunt y/n?’ Mabel asked as dipper glared at you while keeping his sister as far away from you as he could.

‘No Mabel I-‘ you tried to take a step towards her but Ford was quick to cut you off and level you with a glare. ‘Stay away from my grand niece and nephew.’ He growled and you knew there was no point looking back at Stanley, who had kept uncharacteristically quite this entire time.

‘It’s wasn’t me-‘

‘Then who was it who pushed me then y/n?’ Ford asked.

You remained as silent as the day you let Stanley accused you of the same thing. There was no point in making your case when everyone’s minds have been made up, you were the monster in their story and now they were going to be rid of you once and for all.

‘Who?’ Ford asked again as he seethed, his eyes searching your dead ones for answers that have been in his mind for the past thirty years. You were his friend, he thought he could trust you but he guessed wrong, and now he couldn’t look you in the eyes without seeing the very person who shoved him in the portal with a sicken smile across their face.

Ford couldn’t trust you in the presence of Dipper and Mabel, no one was safe with you as far as he was concerned and he wanted to keep his family safe, even if it meant being rid of you once and for all.

When you didn’t say anything to save yourself, Ford points upwards. ‘Get out of my house, I don’t want to see you ever again. You’ve already done enough damage to this family as there is.’

You didn’t have the energy nor fight left in you to scream, shout or anything, you just swallowed the lump in your throat and moved out of the lab as Mabel and Stanley looked at you sympathetically; whereas Ford and dipper only glared at your retreating back.

‘Grunkle/ graunt y/n?’ Mabel called out to you weakly. You only shot her a small smile and mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ She was always your favourite twin but it was time to say good bye and without another word, you pulled off the bracelet that Mable had made for you and threw it on the floor in front of her.

Mabel looked at the bracelet, then back up at you. ‘I made this for you.’ She tells you with tears in her eyes.

‘You deserve better than to put your trust in me my sweet shooting star, I’m a monster in your grunkles eyes,’ you shot a look towards Stan and Ford who were still staring before looking back at Mable, ‘It’s best that you start seeing me that way too because I only cause pain apparently to some.’ You replied and with that you left the shack and the pines family behind, venturing off into the pathway through the woods with nothing but a hole where you here should’ve been.

There was no point fighting your case to Ford, he wasn’t going to hear it, for he was no batter than everyone else and he just pointed the finger at you without second thought. So much for him being unique when he was just like the rest of them, so much like the rest of them that you find it almost laughable.

You’ll gladly stay out of his life, for whatever Stanford pines wished for, you’ll happily oblige as you were only ever the assistant that betrayed him in the end; a traitor.

[aakeysmash]

cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

[munsonsmixtapes]

A request for Logan!! Set in the void mutual pining but you both play it off as hate wade can see how into each other you are so keeps making fun driving you guys into sexual frustration then smuttttttttt obvs 😅

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f receiving) hair pulling, dom!logan

Wade could see it as soon as Logan laid eyes on you. He knew what was happening even though neither of you would admit it. Why you both were so in denial, he didn’t know, but one thing that he was sure of was that he was going to make sure you two ended up together no matter how difficult it was.

And it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, no. He was just tired of constant bickering and complaining about each other. He was tired of being the middle man, having to settle your arguments when he didn’t even ask to be part of it. He was just wanting you two to literally bang it out so he would finally be left alone.

But if he was being honest, your arguments were pretty entertaining with some very harsh blows every now and then. He would just sit off to the side and watch to see if anything interesting happened, but it never did.

Until he got the idea to intervene. He noticed that any time he’d refer to the two of you as a couple, you’d both get all weird a quiet before waving him off then go right back to bickering.

So that’s when Wade decided to take it up a notch. If he really wanted the two of you to get together, he was going to have to work a little harder. To really prove that you both were into each other.

And the thing was, you really were into Logan. You had fallen for him practically the first time you had laid eyes on him. Your time in the void had been so boring until he had come along. You had never met anyone as angry as you and he definitely wasn't afraid to match your energy, ready to argue with you any chance he got.

And you found his angry side so hot so you were starting fights with him any chance you got, trying to fight the urge to jump him right then and there. You wanted him to take you right there, degrading you every way he could while he pounded into you over and over until you were crying on his cock.

But what you didn't know was that Logan felt the exact same way. He wanted you in all the same ways, finding himself staring at your lips, wanting to shut you up with his own. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked, what they tasted like. What you tasted like. Every time, he was so close to pushing you back onto yo couch behind you and burying his face in your cunt to get a taste for himself.

If he was being honest, he was tired of all the fights. He was tired of excusing himself to take care of his cock that always seemed to get hard when you started yelling at him. If he had more confidence, he would have asked you to take care of it with that big mouth of yours.

You were at it again when Wade had walked through the front door and he almost wanted to turn right around so he wouldn't have to hear the same thing he had been hearing for months. But you switch it up pretty quickly.

"So I invite you into my house and this is how you treat me?" Wade thought you had a point. This was your house and you had been nice enough to let the both of them stay with you. He just didn't think Logan would have been your problem since he usually seemed to keep to himself.

"Oh don't act all innocent," Logan replied with a roll of his eyes. "You started it, bub."

“God, you guys haven’t fucked yet?” Wade sighed as he collapsed into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He honestly couldn't take another screaming match.

“Excuse me?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at Wade. You didn’t know why his comment surprised you. He was always saying crude things like that.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he let out a chuckle. “I just thought that you both would have been consumed by all of the sexual tension that you would have finally fucked by now.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Logan asked, whipping around to Wade, giving him an even more intense than you were. He knew exactly what he was talking about but wanted to play it off. It was what he had been doing so far.

“You’re kidding right? Seriously? Are neither of you aware of how attracted you are to each other or am I the only one who’s connected the dots?”

You turned to each other at the same time, gears turning in both of your heads as Wade’s words sank in. You could have sworn that Logan had hated your guts so were you really going to believe something that was coming from Wade’s mouth.

But just you were about to say something, Logan stalked off to the room he shared with Wade. And before you could stop yourself, you were following him only to have the door slammed in your face.

You whipped around to Wade and gave him a glare before knocking on the door. It only took a few seconds but it opened quickly and a hand reached out, pulling you inside. Logan pushed you against the door, causing it to slam closed and before you register what was happening, your hands were pinned above your head and his lips were on yours in a messy, heated kiss.

His tongue found its way into your mouth and he felt himself getting harder as an involuntary moan fell from your lips. He pressed himself against you so you could feel it as let his tongue roam a little more before his took your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a little nibble.

You whined in response and he was quick to do it again, biting down harder this time, a full on moan coming from your lips. Logan pulled away only for a moment to look at you, your eyes dark, your lips kiss bitten. God, you were a fucking dream.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he told you before going in for more, turning his head to the side so he could go at you from another angle. His lips were soft which contradicted the rough mess that were his kisses.

His facial hair was rubbing roughly against your face and it was driving you crazy, making you wonder what it would have felt like scraping against your cunt. You were sure that it would have felt good. The feeling mixed with the way his would use his mouth would have for sure driven you mad.

“I can tell,” you replied against his lips. “I want you too, Logan.” The way you said his name was soft compared to the way you usually said it. It was nice, but he had to admit that he really liked when you were mean to him. Maybe a bit too much.

“Good,” he said, removing his hands from your wrists and looping your arms around his neck. He then grabbed onto your thighs and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, your ankles locking at his back. “Because when I’m done with you, you’re not going to be able to walk.”

Logan went in for another messy kiss as he backed away, pulling you from the door and carrying you over to his bed which he threw you down onto. You stared at him as he lowered himself onto his knees, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.

His hands moved up to the waistband of your pants, giving it a yank, but it wouldn’t budge. You motioned for him to scoot back and he did so, watching you stand from the bed. You shoved your hands into the pants on either side and pushed down, Logan watching in amazement as you did it with ease, pulling them for you feet and tossing them aside, giving him a good look at your sopping wet underwear.

“So fucking wet,” was all he was able to say as you lied back again. He crawled to you and was quick to spread your legs wide to see what he was working with. Your underwear was absolutely soaked through and it seemed like you had been that way for a while.

“Is this all for me?” He asked, looking back up at you and you let out a chuckle.

“Well, it’s certainly not for Wade,” you quipped and Logan pulled you closer, your cunt right in front of his face. He spread your legs wider and looked you right in the eyes as he lowered his head, taking the band of your panties between his teeth and pulling down as slow as possible as a way to tease you.

He then opened his mouth, letting the panties fall to the floor in front of him before scooting back to the edge of the bed. He grabbed onto your legs once again and kissed up one of them, taking his time, loving how you were squirming while whining for him.

If he was going to do this, he was going to take his time. He had wanted to do this exact thing for months, fantasized about it over and over and he was going to real savor it.

He kissed up your other leg, your skin feeling warm underneath his lips and once he was done, he draped both of them over his shoulders. He hadn’t done anything like this in a long time so he was really going to enjoy it even if he was rusty.

“Look at you,” he said. “Already soaking wet for me. Did my kisses really do that much damage?”

“No,” you replied. “I-fighting with you turns me on.”

“So now it all makes sense,” Logan chuckled. “You think I’m hot when I’m angry. Well, the feeling’s mutual, doll. Now let me clean you up. You’re a fucking mess.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s head was between your thighs and you gasped as he got to work, his facial hair scratching against your cunt just like you had been imagining. He went straight it, licking and sucking at your slit as you writhed beneath him.

It was like nothing you had experienced before. Sure, you had been with other men, but it seemed as if none of them had the confidence that Logan did. None of them ever knew what they were doing.

Your hands clutched the sheets underneath you on the unmade bed. Your heels dug into his back as his mouth moved to your clit, continuing to lick and suck, his movements getting sloppy, but he was still able to completely unravel you.

“Yeah, right there, just like that,” you whined, your hands moving to his hair, grabbing fistfuls wherever you were able to grab on. Logan groaned as you pulled, his hands moving up to your thighs, trying to hold you in place.

His teeth slid across your cunt and that was it. Your back arched as your heels dug into his back even more, your thighs tightening around his head as he did it again and again, your mewls becoming music to his ears.

“Fuck, Logan,” you moaned and he loved how his name sounded coming from your mouth in a way that sounded so sexy. That was going to play in head on a loop for the rest of his life and he was totally okay with that.

Your fingers pulled on his hair again and he was becoming concerned about how much he liked and how he wanted you to keep doing it over and over as he ate you out.

“Taste so fucking good, doll,” he told you before going back to your slit, wanting to give it some more love. His teeth slid across that spot. “Could do this for hours.”

“Oh my god,” you whined in response to his movements and he was quick to slide his tongue across the spot to diffuse the sting, sucking on it again as his tongue lazily swirled around it.

His tongue found its way inside you, slowly pushing it inside and that seemed to set you off. You squirmed underneath him as your hands found their way back to the mattress, bunching up the sheets in your hands.

Your back arched as your vision blurred, your eyes shutting tight as his tongue hit just the right spot. An orgasm rolled through you as a loud moan escaped your mouth, your toes curling in pleasure.

You stayed like that for a while as Logan wanted to see how long you could go and you were willing to lie there and take it, wanting him to do whatever he wanted as you came over and over again.

You were feeling tired, quickly fading out, but you were trying your best to stay alert, not wanting it to end. But as you were really fading, you felt Logan remove your legs from his shoulders as your face moved away from your cunt.

“More,” you slurred, but Logan chuckled, resting his hands on your thighs.

“We’ve been at this for hours, doll. Bed time.”

“But-”

“Nope,” he shook his head, standing up from the floor before removing his suit. “Bed.”

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” you replied as he helped you put your underwear back on. You took off your top so that you’d be more comfortable and as soon as Logan was just in his boxers, he climbed in his ned next to you.

“Tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead then turning out the lamp that was on his side. He then pulled you to his bare chest, letting out a contented sigh. “Now get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

[matcha-milkies]

LIKE AN OLEANDER

Summary: Bill Cipher needs a footstool and a thoroughly Stockholmed Ford is happy to oblige.

Relationships: Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Pyronica is there too

Content Warnings: Abuse, Master/Pet, Psychological Torture/Horror/Trauma, Stockholm Syndrome, Victim Blaming, Sensory Deprivation

Tags: Triangle Bill, Canon Divergence - Weirdmageddon, Bill Cipher Wins, Collars, Chains, Whump, Hurt No Comfort, Bill Cipher is a Jerk

Word Count: 1,306

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Based on @jellyskink’s immaculate Domesticated Ford AU, in which Bill mentally breaks Ford in the 1980s and brainwashes him into an obedient and fawning pet. Weirdmageddon started early, and over time the weirdness bubble surrounding Gravity Falls naturally expanded to contain both California and Oregon. If you want to learn more, there’s a lot more tidbits on their blog, though fair warning it’s a pretty dark and sad AU.

Thank you, jellyskink, for giving me the green light to write a fic for this!

I saw someone say this au is “all pain, no sex” which is really at the heart of what I look for in fics, but is so painstakingly absent in most fandoms, so this is a godsend •⩊•

If you haven’t listened to “Oleander” by Mother Mother what are you even doing with your life /lh

Bill Cipher is in a particularly good mood today. He and Pyronica probably broke a record for largest bonfire in California, even counting all their previous antics over the years. Not the dream demon’s most creative endeavor by a long shot, but hey, sometimes you just gotta start a blazing inferno to let off some steam. Nothing wrong with a bit of simple, straightforward arson now and then.

It’s only when he returns to the Fearamid, practically glowing, buzzing and high off the screams of the innocent, that he remembers the state he left Sixer in.

The man is in a kneeling position, collared by the neck. His hair, fluffy and disheveled, feathers down to around his shoulders, brushing against the cruel blue metal. His twelve fingers twitch and grasp at nothing, futilely, as though groping for purchase on a rugged cliffside. His purple sweater is rumpled in places, like he had pulled and grabbed at that too, to no evident avail. He’s whimpering to himself, words that are at first indiscernible as Bill enters the massive chamber.

The scientist is tethered to a ring near the base of the Throne of Frozen Human Agony, staring vacantly into the middle space, unseeing. It’s not his fault. Bill severed all input from his optic nerves, so he literally can’t see. Or hear. Or feel. Yeah, he cut off those nerves too. It was supposed to be a punishment that lasted a few hours. And then Bill had left and gotten carried away with his fun, and well, it had been an entire day.

Whoops.

Make no mistake, he doesn’t feel bad about it. If anything, it’s kind of funny, like forgetting to feed your dog! Wait. Humans don’t find that funny. Well, who can expect them to understand the emotions of an all-powerful chaos god? He draws closer, and the previously indiscernible words sharpen into clarity.

“I love you, my muse. I love you.”

Repeated ad nauseam to the uncaring void.

“Aww,” Bill clasps his hands together and brings them closer to his eye. “He’s so pathetic!” Pyronica, who came in with him, nods her agreement and laughs along. This must be what it’s like to catch your puppy mid-dream, its little tongue lolling and leg kicking at nothing.

He can’t remember whether he instructed his pet to repeat those words or not. Honestly, it’s anyone’s guess. Bill’s will and Ford’s are so inextricable at this point that Ford often does things without needing to be told. Of course, they’re not entirely on the same wavelength, or else punishment wouldn’t be required in the first place.

“Eh, remind me to snap him out of it in another half an hour,” Bill says, settling himself on the throne. With a wave of an arm he summons a martini glass. “I’m gonna have myself a drink.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He summons a glass for her too, and hipshot, she accepts. “Hey, you think we should’ve put the fire out before we left?”

They both share a hearty chuckle over that. “Would be a shame if it all burned down!” Bill sighs as the laughter dies down. “Nah, but seriously. California will still be there for us to play with tomorrow. And if it isn’t, we can always just rebuild it! In my image! Ha!”

“Yeah. Technically the fires are my image though.”

“Touché!”

They talk for a while, maybe 20 minutes or so in this fashion, casually sipping time punch and discussing unnatural disasters like they’re music festivals. Ford goes completely untouched and unnoticed, until suddenly Bill returns his attention to the human, and a light bulb goes off next to his hat.

“Wait. Do you wanna see something hysterical? I have the best idea.”

Every sensation returns to Ford at once in a flood of color, touch and sound. Sometimes, when Bill is feeling merciful, he eases him back into it, but his merciful moods are few and far between. More commonly, he likes to toss the scientist in the deep end and watch him flounder, tears quickly beading at the corners of Ford’s eyes and spilling fatly over his cheeks. His body convulses in a singular, broken sob, and before he can finish another apologetic, “I love you,” Bill hits him with a hard command.

“Stanford! I need a footstool!” The demon extends his legs and wiggles his feet a little. He whistles as though beckoning a dog. “Come ‘ere!”

Despite his disorientation, Ford rushes to obey, lurching in the direction of Bill’s voice and falling flat on his face. Shakenly, he picks himself off the ground, letting loose a singular groan.

“I’m still waiting!” Bill sings, swinging his legs a little for effect. Pyronica snickers. Ford tries again, following the sound of his muse’s voice, although he is quickly dismayed to find that he’s already reached the end of his chain. He falls just short of Bill’s feet, and no matter how he chokes himself, no matter how hard he tugs at the collar or the chain attached, he can’t go any further than this. His distress is evident in the way he keens.

“What are you doing?” Bill demands, rolling his eye. “All I asked for was a simple footstool and you can’t even do that? Bad! Bad dog!” Ford sobs.

“I-I’m sorry, my muse!” he rasps, the cold metal of the collar pressing in on his windpipe as he strains to obey. “I’m so sorry!”

Pyronica is practically in stitches at this point, and Bill is a showman, a class clown ever chasing the next laugh. “Are you really though?” His eye wanes to an amused crescent. “Do you even love me, if you can’t even follow a command as simple as this?”

“Yes!” Ford insists with a cry. “Yes, my muse, I love you! I’m sorry that I’m so useless… Please, please forgive me…”

“Why should I? Do you think you deserve forgiveness?”

“N- No,” Ford sniffs, “but—”

“Alright, alright. Since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give you a hand.” Bill waves his hand in a circle and the chain elongates, allowing just enough slack for Ford to crawl under his waiting feet. Bill settles them heavily on top of Ford’s back and sighs. “Ahh, that’s better.” The man shakes under the weight.

“Thank you, my muse,” he says. Normally, he would be a lot happier about serving Bill like this, but he’s clearly still torn up over his recent punishment and failures. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, kid!” Bill rests his hands behind his ‘head,’ or rather, the tip of his topmost vertex. “Maybe after this, if you’re good, you can have a treat.”

“R- Really? Oh, thank you so much, my muse. I promise I’ll be good.” His voice is still wavery from the earlier-shed tears, but his cheer seems to be returning. It’s not difficult to keep the man happy when he’s so thoroughly and hopelessly smitten with his muse. Bill could have Pyronica drop-kick Ford off the top of the Fearamid right now and when he reached the bottom he would find a way to smile and thank Bill, no matter how many broken pieces he was in.

“Yeah. Now shut up while I get some reading in. Hasn’t anyone ever told you footstools don’t talk? Sheesh.” With a sigh, Bill summons an extradimensional magazine and floats it in front of his eye, every so often flipping through the pages. Pyronica says she’s off to see what Teeth and Keyhole are up to, and Bill acknowledges her departure with a little grunt and wave. Ford stifles a whimper. His back has already been giving him issues lately, and this definitely isn’t helping matters, but he soldiers through it for his muse. He’s determined not to mess up again. He’s determined to be a good footstool.

A/N: This is my first time writing from Bill’s perspective! I don’t usually write him this cruel, so it was a fun change of pace to lean full force into that side of him. Thanks again, jellyskink, I hope you liked this little installment!

[handofmidas-writes]

I didn't hate season 4. Or the love triangle. Let me explain.

Okay. Listen. Listenlistenlisten.

I know everyone is pissed about season 4. I hear you. I get it. I don’t think anyone is thinking that this was a well-executed season. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

But hear me out.

The bones of the thing are good in principle. The arc makes sense at the heart of it. Again, hear me out.

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The entire series is about saving the world by stopping the apocalypse. And as all the Fives in the deli have shown, the apocalypse is due to the Hargreeves siblings’ very existence. Reginald has fucked over every iteration of the kids to bring back his wife who died as a result of her own actions in creating marigold. He couldn’t give her up, and he was willing to rip universes apart to get her back. Five has tried time and time and time again to save his family, ad infinitum. He knows how to solve the problem, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Until this Five. They are, as we here on tumblr love to say, doomed by the narrative.

Five also says the universe loves balance. We saw this in season 3 with the kugelblitz. They were an impossibility in the universe and the kugelblitz formed to solve the problem by eliminating them. Impossibility for impossibility.

One of the Fives founded the Commission to solve the problem. It happens every time.

Abigail’s purpose through the whole season is to ensure the Cleanse, to reset the universe to the correct timeline. She shouldn’t be there. The kids shouldn’t be there. They are a direct result of Reginald releasing marigold into the world to enact his plan of resurrecting Abigail. The universe is trying to return to homeostasis, balance itself. And in every iteration, it needs to rid itself of the marigold, the substance that shouldn’t exist in the first place.

Ergo, the principle is sound, in my opinion.

The execution was shit, as I’m sure we all can agree.  I don’t like that they cease to exist, necessarily, and I think there were other avenues they could have taken to avoid that. But I can stomach it.

The shit storm is certainly in the characterizations. They did almost everyone dirty in some way or another. I think it could have been saved with a few more episodes, but we know that Netflix sucks like that and the season definitely suffered after the strike. I won’t be going into all of the characters just now since I’m apparently a loquacious bitch and don’t have the space. (And I know this is all being screamed into the void anyway. None of y’all will be reading any of this lol.)

Here’s where I’m going to ruffle feathers. I buy into the whole Diego/Lila/Five thing. And here’s why. (Cut here because this bitch got real long. Like 1.5k words long. Oops.)

The first episode is called “The Unbearable Tragedy of Getting What You Want.” Is it a slightly contrived Now That We’re Not Superheroes Our Normal Lives Kind Of Suck thing? Absolutely. Has it been overused in basically everything ever? You bet. Does it kind of work here? Yeah, actually.

These people legitimately don’t know what to do without powers. They’re coming fresh off the heels of trying and failing to save the world 3 different times. That takes adjustment. A lot of adjustment.

Lila and Diego fall into parenthood, which is a huge thing in and of itself. It’s not surprising that Diego turns into the stereotypical suburban dad, the breadwinner because that’s what he thinks his role should be. It doesn’t fully make sense that Lila turns into a housewife, but I can see her trying to throw Diego a bone and trying to make up for how she’s treated him in the past. Not to mention proving herself as a mother.

It makes sense for Lila to want to get out of the house and do her own thing, without her kids and her husband. It makes sense for Diego to resent his low level job when all he’s wanted to be is a badass and a hero.  Their frustration about their family life is understandable. Being a family is a lot of effort. There’s a loss of freedom when people become parents. And these are two headstrong people who have things to prove to themselves, to make sure they show up for their kids. Which leads to breakdowns in taking care of themselves and their relationship to each other.

Now, the sticky bit comes in with the whole love triangle. I know folks hate the subway subplot. Here’s the thing, despite how it was executed, it makes sense, too.

It’s an interesting way to portray the Many Worlds Theory and it’s plausible enough that Lila and Five connect in this way because of their shared knowledge of the Commission. It makes sense that they explore it together.

Which leads me to this: Five is incredibly lonely. He spent 40 years alone in an apocalypse and tried everything in his power to get back. He fell in love with a mannequin because she was the only thing keeping him tethered and sane-adjacent (sweet Dolores, we’ll never forget you, queen). He was desperate and alone and persisted because he had to.

He joined the Commission to try and stop said apocalypse and then inadvertently ended up in another. He’s tired of trying to save his family over and over and now he’s not sure there’s anything he can do to save them this time. And now here he is, stuck in the labyrinthine Subway of Fuckery with Lila and they can’t get out. Lila who has the same training as him, the same knowledge base, who went with him to the remnants of the Commission in season 3 and tried to save them all. Let’s call them frenemies, I guess.

And now here they are. Stuck together and feeling helpless. Enduring every fucking thing under the sun, watching each other’s backs, and they only have each other. And they’re tired. They’ve been searching for a way home for six fucking years. So, they decide to stop running and catch their breath. I won’t say it’s an inevitability, but Five is so lonely and scared. And Lila is lonely and scared and without her children. But they’re safe with each other, and they take comfort in each other, and it’s so easy to blur those lines.

So yeah, they end up together in the now infamous cottagecore greenhouse with the strawberries. And they try not to think about Diego. Is it right of them to do this? Well, no. But are people messy as hell? Yes. And are their actions understandable? Also yes.

So, to me, when Five finds the notebook and keeps it hidden from Lila, it tracks. Because he’s so fucking scared of what’s going to happen now. What if they still can’t make it back? What if they can’t save the world this time? What if it all comes down around his ears again? So he hides in easy domesticity and thinks about the solace they’ve found in each other.

And Lila, understandably, blows up when she realizes Five has hidden this from her. Because for her, this was a way to cope. To survive, as she says. She loves her children. And she loves Diego. She didn’t stop loving them. She couldn’t stop loving them. But she might just love Five, too. And isn’t that scary as hell?

People are many faceted, my friends. Does it make what she did morally right? Of course not. But does it make sense? I truly think it does.

The limited number of episodes is one of the largest contributors to the half-baked-ness of it all. There’s not enough time to flesh out a proper resolution to the whole thing. Which led to Diego’s hunch from episode 2 of Lila cheating with Greek guy/Five accidentally being correct foreshadowing. Which then resulted in a heavy confession from Lila in front of the entire family (which I was digging, just like the siblings, tbh). And then the boys started throwing punches and the whole love triangle thing went completely down the shitter (a dubious and debatable statement, I know).

So, that leaves us with Lila who is now in the middle of two brothers. Said brothers are now physically fighting out bad blood and pent up frustration. And only part of it is due to Lila.

Diego’s character is criminally underdeveloped. He was always halfway between the underdog and class clown and his characterization in this season falls spectacularly flat in all aspects. He’s a character who has fought to prove himself over and over again, and is still trying to do that here, but nothing really lands. Diego and Luther are comic relief mostly. And Diego’s role, unfortunately, ended up being a stick in the spokes of a sloppy love triangle and pretty much nothing else.

Five is obviously the favorite in Blackman’s eyes. Five is knowledgeable. Five always has an idea. Five is the one the family looks to for answers, more often than not. Five is the one who almost always opts to save his family in some way, shape, or form. And this has resulted in Five being sad and helpless, in a way. He has been building this emotional bomb for decades and across timelines without any real release or acknowledgement. So Blackman chose to have Five get his emotional release in the form of “a love story” with Lila. Doing it this way, with the limited number of episodes, left Diego’s part woefully inadequate.

No resolution really takes place here. Diego kind of “wins” insofar as he convinces Lila to take their family to the subway and she takes his hand first when they all say goodbye. Five gets the teary “I hate you for this,” after she ends up choosing self-sacrifice with the others, which we know means “I am so incredibly sad and I hate that you told us the truth because it means everything ends for real this time and I’ve had to let my family go.” Then she holds his hand, too, showing that all is forgiven, here at the end of all things.

There’s definitely not a resolution for Diego, and it can certainly be inferred that he still pretty much hates Five’s guts. I get the feeling that Five is just resigned to finally ending the cycle. He knows he’s hurt Diego badly and I think he does feel bad for it, but it’s not translated into the final scene, which leaves the whole situationship hollow and earned it the well deserved hate for hilariously poor execution.

So that’s it, friends. That’s my unpopular opinion and way too many words justifying it. I surprisingly have more I could blather on about, but I’ll spare y’all from including any more in this post. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

And for a final palate cleanser for those of you who do not care about any of this: I think we deserve a side plot of Five and Derek the Twink from the CIA. The true OTP. (Also Brisket Five, who is the real MVP.)

[starlightrosa]

Hey! I got one for digital circus! If you’re not wanting to do it thats totally cool!

With Caine being AI and not having a previous life outside the circus, I think he would be rather confused and intrigued by tickles once he found out about it. And knowing Caine, he’d probably wanna test it out on all the circus members just cause their reactions would be amusing to him and fluffyness would ensue!

That is all, have a wonderful day Lovley!

Smile For Me

Summary: Caine's a bit fed up at the fact that his circus crew just will not smile. So he takes it upon himself to make them smile, and along the way, he finds out some very useful information about each of them.

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warnings: censored swearing, Caine is a teasy AI, cute alert.

A/N: ahhhhh nonnie i'm so sorry this is late! I've been so busy, and then I got sick which took me out for a while :( thankfully i'm no longer bedbound and managed to complete it this morning <3

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

Caine was a bit fed up today. Everything just seemed so dull. His circus cast weren’t having fun at all. His adventures weren’t being well-received, and everyone just seemed so gosh darn grumpy! Caine tried to get everyone used to the circus when they first arrived. He assumed wacky fun was how to make anyone laugh or even a smile to appear on their faces. But Caine didn’t hear a single giggle from anyone, nor see a grin. And it was starting to frustrate him.

Sure, he might only be some lines of coding and a program within a game, but why was it so hard to bring smiles to these kinds of people?! Something had to give, and Caine pondered this even as he worked on his top secret project in the Void, his Wacky Watch beeping occasionally to track the crew’s movements, ensuring they were staying in the bounds of the circus. And luckily, they all were.

Maybe it was the project annoying Caine, but his fingers twitched as the AI pulsated with extra energy. This sometimes happened, but it felt worse this time. He needed a way to get out this jumpy energy, so out of impulse, he left the project alone and teleported into the tent. Right near Ragatha, who was walking by.

“RAGATHA!”

The doll screamed and hit the floor pretty hard, landing with quite an audible ‘OOF!’ noise. Caine gasped and flew to her side, the AI checking if she had been hurt.

“Gracious, my dear! I’m so sorry if I startled you! Are you hurt? Oh, what am I saying? You hit that floor most hard indeed!” Caine rambled, his gloved hands softly checking for sore spots.

“I’m fine Caine, plehease just- AHAHAHA!” Ragatha squealed, as she felt Caine poke into her side, right above her hip. Caine retracted his hands.

“Is that a sore spot? Oh dear, Ragatha! I’m so very sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me, Caine.” Ragatha assured, biting her tongue against further giggles.

“Well, then… what was that noise that left your mouth, if not a pained noise?” the ringleader asked.

“Oh, I’m just kind of ticklish there, Caine. You got me by surprise.” Ragatha explained. Caine blinked, taken aback. A question mark appeared out of the top of his head to further display his utter confusion. That was a word he didn’t know.

“Tick-lish? Tick-uh-lish? What is… what is tick-lish, Ragatha?” Caine asked, sounding the word out slowly, to try and get a deeper meaning of it.

Ragatha sighed, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “Okay, so the plural is called tickling. Basically, you touch someone and if it makes them laugh, it means that they’re ticklish. And when it comes to tickling someone, you can try mostly anywhere. There’s different tickle spots for any person, if they are ticklish. Like a person’s sides, hips, ribs. Anything, really. It just kind of differs between different people.”

Caine could feel his digital fingers wiggling on instinct the more that Ragatha explained to him. It sounded fun, plus it sounded like a surefire way to make someone laugh! Which was exactly what Caine was after when it came to his circus crew.

“Might I tickle you, Ragatha?” Caine asked, his voice very blunt and to the point. Ragatha’s smile turned wobbly as she softly held her hands up in front of her.

“Caine, don’t be silly. I-I’m not ticklish.” she lied. Caine didn’t believe her at all.

“My dear, you just told me you were. I don’t think lying to me is going to get you very far.” he said, even as he snapped his fingers. His ringleader outfit changed to a cowboy outfit, complete with a digital rope appearing in his hands. He lassoed Ragatha like a cowboy and pulled her into his arms, the ringleader holding Ragatha in a soft hug, her back pressed against his hip as his gloved hands snuck along her back.

“Yee-haw! I got me a ticklish dollie in my hands! Whooooo, boy!” Caine cheered, his AI voice switching to a Texan accent very briefly. Ragatha pursed her lips hard against the laughter bubbling in her throat.

“Y-You sound rihidihiculous, Cahahaine!” Ragatha teased, wriggling softly in the ringleader’s grasp. Caine gasped in mock offence.

“Oh, how very rude! Why, such rudeness is not permitted in my circus!” Caine declared, as his hand that was not holding the doll squeezed into her left side. “Is it ticklish here?”

Ragatha gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth, muffled giggles going into her hands as she closed her real eye, the button one remaining stubbornly open. Her shoulders bounced softly as she fought to keep her laughter quiet. Caine’s eyes shone a little. There was some laughter, that he coaxed out of the ticklish ragdoll. Good gracious, finally!

“Why, your laughter is sweeter than angel food cake!” Caine stated. Ragatha couldn’t exactly blush, but she felt her face grow warm all the same.

“Hahaha, Cahahahaine! Lehehehet gohoho of mehehe!”

“If you say so.” Caine said, letting her go as requested. Ragatha sighed as she dusted her dress off. She really had not expected that to work. She thought for sure that Caine was just going to ignore her and keep tickling.

“This is most intriguing. I must go test this on the others!” Caine said, his AI mind buzzing with theories as to the other members’ tickle spots.

“Go do that. But leave Pomni alone. She hates being touched. Like, she really hates it.” Ragatha murmured softly.

Caine could see she wasn’t joking and he nodded. “Alright. I shan’t touch Pomni. But the others are fair game, right?”

Ragatha nodded, and Caine’s eyes shone with mischief. “Lovely. Bye now, Ragatha.” he said, flying through the circus, on the hunt for another circus member to tickle silly. And then he saw a purple ear disappear around a corner, and he chased after it.

“Hey, Jax!”

The purple rabbit turned around. Upon seeing Caine, he looked very irritated. “What do you want, Caine?”

“I want to ask you something, Jax!” Caine said, adjusting his gloves a small bit as he looked upon the taller one.

“Which is? Make it snappy, I’m a busy guy.” Jax responded.

“Are you ticklish, Jax?” Caine asked, his mismatched eyes focused entirely on Jax’s face. Of all the things Jax was expecting Caine to ask, that most certainly was not one of them.

“Uh-“

“I take it that’s a yes!” Caine said. “So now I’m gonna tickle you.”

“Oh, no the (SPROING!) you’re not!” Jax called back, running off. Caine flew after him, the ringleader chuckling mischievously.

“Running was a bad idea, my friend! If you just stayed still, this would have been so much easier~”

“(HONK!) YOU!” Jax shot back even as he turned a corner, panting softly as he turned his head, rapidly looking for somewhere to hide. But to his dismay, when his head turned back around, Caine flew towards him and trapped the rabbit in a tight backwards hug.

“Gotcha, Jax!” Caine declared, his fingers immediately going to work, spidering up and down Jax’s sides. Jax spluttered out a string of incoherent curses before the bunny fell into laughter, squirming desperately in Caine’s arms.

“CAHAHAHAINE, STAHAHAP!” Jax cried out, hiding his smile. Caine saw him doing this and tutted, the AI chuckling to himself.

“Let me see you smile.”

“CAHAHAHAINE, YOU LITTLE (SPLAT!)” Jax cursed. Caine sighed. How rude.

“Now, is that any way to talk to me? Where’s your manners, Jax?” Caine asked, one hand grabbing Jax’s hands and pulling them away from his mouth.

“CAHAHAHAINE!”

“Your laughter is oddly endearing. I think I may just have to tickle you forever.” Caine stated clearly. Jax spluttered in protest.

“FOR (DOING!) SAHAHAHAKE, STAHAHAP!” Jax pleaded. Caine chuckled and let go of the rabbit immediately. Two down, two to go. He wasn’t going to touch Zooble or Pomni, so that only left Gangle and Kinger.

“Where’s Gangle and Kinger, Jax?” Caine asked, still feeling that ticklish itch in his fingers. Jax scratched his head a bit as he calmed down from the giggle fit that Caine had unceremoniously shoved him into.

“And why the (SPLAT!) should I tell you?” Jax asked defiantly. Caine just shrugged.

“If you like, I can just tickle you again, since you seemed to enjoy it~”

“Uh, I think I last saw ‘em chatting to each other at the main stage.” Jax said, immediately spilling to avoid a round two from Caine. Caine was a good tickler, and Jax didn’t exactly want to get on the wrong side of that again.

“Good. Alright, bye.” Caine chirped, twirling his cane as he went to go find the last two at the main stage.

Kinger and Gangle were engaging in a conversation about bugs it seemed. Gangle had on her tragedy mask again, and Kinger was talking about butterflies.

“-See, Gangle, there are about 17,500 species of butterflies known to us, 750 of those species in the United States alone. This one is a tiger swallowtail, or known to us as Papilio glaucus, native to eastern Northern America. You can recognise them by the black and yellow marking on their wings!” Kinger rambled, getting a bit lost in his insect hyperfixation while Gangle let him carry on.

Caine came up and waved to them. “Hello, you two!” he greeted. Gangle squeaked and her hands instinctually came up to cover her face, while Kinger turned around.

“EEK! Oh, h-hi Caine…” Gangle murmured.

“Hi, Caine.” Kinger greeted. Caine flew down to meet them.

“What are you two doing on this fine day?” Caine asked.

“Oh, I was showing Gangle my butterfly collection! I have tiger swallowtails, skippers, metalmarks, monarchs. You name ‘em!” Kinger chirped happily. “Anyway! How can we help you?”

“Are either of you two ticklish?” Caine enquired.

Gangle squeaked and hid her face deeper in her ribbony hands. Kinger hummed and then nodded, not seeming to catch the teasy tone in Caine’s voice.

“Well, we both are, yes. Gangle more so than me. But why do you ask?”

That was all the answers Caine needed. He grabbed one of Gangle’s hands and one of Kinger’s hands, gathering them in the same hand to hold them each tightly. Preparing to go for Gangle first, he chuckled as he softly began to spider along her ribbony stomach. But to their shock, Gangle squealed and wrapped herself tight around Kinger’s abdomen, already squirming a little with anticipation. But then Kinger started to softly laugh.

“Hahaha! G-Gahahangle, stohohop! Thahat tihihickles!” Kinger pleaded softly. Caine begun to have an idea. If he could play his cards right… he could tickle them both at the same time.

Kinger or Gangle? Kinger… or Gangle? Hard choice. But considering Gangle was right there… yeah, she would work.

Caine chuckled mischievously as he switched his focus to Gangle, walking his gloved fingers along her ribboned hands. The red ribbons she was made of felt soft on his hands, and the giggles he heard from her indicated that Gangle was feeling all of this as well.

“C-Cahahaine! It tickles, it tickles!” Gangle squealed out. Caine laughed along with her as he kept up the tickles. Kinger was getting tickled too from Gangle’s wriggling, which ended up tickling him.

“Who knew you two were so ticklish?” Caine teased, smirking. He didn’t even have to tickle Kinger, Gangle was doing that for him!

“GAHAHANGLE, STAHAHAP!” Kinger cackled, the two falling back onto the floor. Caine followed them down and kept tickling Gangle, which caused the poor ribboned miss to laugh harder. Which in turn meant more squirming. And THAT meant more tickles for Kinger.

“I CAHAHAN’T!” Gangle argued. “AHAHAHA! CAHAHAINE!” she screeched. “NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!”

“Oh, not here? Not on your ticklish little ribbon legs? Why ever not?” Caine asked, where he was tickling the backs of Gangle’s ribbony knees. “They feel so soft here! I could tickle them forever.”

“PLEHEHEHEASE NOHOHO!” Gangle shrieked, squirming for all she was worth. Her high pitch laughter intermingled with Kinger’s deep chuckles, creating a melody of laughter that Caine adored.

“Hah! Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” Caine said, gently letting go and helping Gangle unravel herself from Kinger. Caine felt happier seeing his circus crew smile, if only for a fleeting moment.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Caine grinned, that ticklish energy in his hands finally dissipating, with the ringleader making to leave. Only to be caught by Kinger’s hold.

“Uh-uh. What about you, Caine? Are you perhaps ticklish?”

“Preposterous, Kinger. I am just AI. Lines of coding. Impossible for code to be ticklish.” Caine declared, trying to put on a bravado. In truth, he didn’t know. But by the look on Kinger’s face, he was going to find out one way or another.

“You sure about that, dentures?” came a voice from behind him. Caine was filled with a sense of anticipatory dread as he saw Jax and Ragatha slowly approaching, their hands outstretched and wiggling. Kinger grabbed him and hoisted Caine in the air, as the circus crew took their places around him, ready to all rally against the ringleader. He gave them laughter, so they were gonna dish it right back.

“Now, let’s be reheheasonable here! P-please! PLEHEHEHEASE! WAHAHAIT! JAHAHAX! RAHAHAGATHA! KIHIHIHINGER, GAHAHANGLE STOHOHOP! NO NO NO NOHOHOHO!”

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅

this is the more extended version of my unwanted drabble, thank you to @jessybarnes for some of the ideas. I hope you all enjoy.

summary - steve tricked you before kidnapping you, leaving you locked away in the basement as you begin to mess with his mind.

warning - angst, mentions of killing, mentions of sadness, mentions of being trapped.

the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“What? You want me to meow or something?” 

Steve sat there shocked, staring at you with wonder. It’s as if you had no care and weren’t freaking out like others. He stares into your eyes, seeing nothing there, and his head tilts as he looks at you. “No..?” He looks confused, wondering. “How do you feel?” 

“I don’t.” You state, turning your head back to the wall and staring at it. You miss how his eyebrows shoot up. “So… When are you going to kill me?” You pick at your nails, continuing to feel stupid for thinking someone like him would actually want you. You turn your head when you don’t hear a response and tilt your head as he stares at you, confused. “That’s why you tricked me, right? To kill me, you didn’t exactly pretend to like me, drug me, and tie me up in your basement because you’re madly in love with me, and that’s the only way you thought you could get me.” 

“You’re not afraid? Why aren’t you screaming, crying or swearing at me?” He’s so confused, getting closer to you, kneeling before you as he looks into your eyes. “Why is there nothing? You’re so empty.” 

You blink, staring at him blankly. “If you don’t mind, ‘Steve’. I would like not to talk and for you to just get to the point.” You move away from him, crawling up the bed and lying on your back as you stare at the ceiling. “I’ll be here… Waiting patiently for my death. Not like I have anywhere to go.” 

You let out a sigh when he left the room, one side of your mind begging for him to stay and the other staying quiet. You couldn’t let yourself fall for his stupid face again, and you didn’t want to beg someone to love you. You wanted that to come naturally. But you don’t think that will ever happen because… You were you, and people didn’t like what they saw.

Steve was curious, and you were like a puzzle to him. He had never met anyone so void of emotion and missed the woman he met. You seemed so happy and carefree, sure. He did notice that you were more closed off and didn’t seem to let him so close. He wanted to change that. He needed some sort of reaction, some sort of emotion. How can you be so calm during all this? Steve left you alone for a while, barely acknowledging the other women locked up, barely acknowledging his wife and kids, or the women he promised dates to. You were occupying his mind, and it was driving him crazy. He had destroyed most of the upstairs, trying anything to get you out of his head. He couldn’t take it. The look in your eyes, your words, it was all getting to him.

Steve remembered your dates and how you told him about the books you used to write. He recalled that you said it was the only thing that made you genuinely feel something, and an idea sparked. Steve gathered a notebook, some pens, and some food and water before making his way down to the basement. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and smiling at you. “I brought you something that I think you’ll enjoy.” You continue to stare at the wall, your eyes tired. Steve sighs, softly walking over and placing the items before you. “I’m trusting you with these pens, but if you do something—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” You scoff, eyes slowly moving to connect with his. “That was already your plan, and this would make the killing go faster.” You roll your eyes, barely looking at the things he placed before you. “Did you need anything else? Because I’d rather you just hurry this along.” Your head turns again, ignoring him because what was the point of giving him any more attention? 

“Why are you behaving like this? I bought you some of the things I remember you talked about. You should at least feel happy?” Your head falls back as you let out a laugh, startling Steve, who stares at you as if you’ve grown three heads. “What? What’s so funny?!” Why wouldn’t you just submit?! Why were you so different from the others?! It bewildered Steve how you could sit so emotionless and then laugh as if he had said something funny.

“You. Do you think giving me a notebook and pens would suddenly make me happy? Did you not stop to think that you are the problem? I have already come to terms with the fact that no one will ever love me, that you only pretended so you could kidnap me and kill me. So why aren’t you killing me?! Why are you taking your sweet time?!” You snap, struggling against the chains as you stand and move toward Steve, punching his chest. “Kill me! Kill me, goddammit!” You scream, your eyes are still emotionless, yet your words hold so much power.

Steve holds your wrists, stopping you from hitting him. He stares down at you, wondering why his heart clenches like this. “No.” He moves away, needing to get out of this room and get away from you as you make his head fuzzy. He watches as you stare at him in disbelief.

“So, what… I’m not good enough to love and not good enough to kill either?” You sink back onto the bed, your eyes staring at the wall as you realise you will never be good enough for anything or anyone. Steve quickly leaves the room, going through the house, destroying more things on the way. How could you get into his head like this? No one else had done it, so why were you so different?

You sat there, staring at the untouched notebook before slowly reaching for it, and as you grabbed the pen, the words began to flow out of you and onto the page. Everything you felt deep inside was coming out through stories. Not feeling in the mood to eat or drink, you spend most of the day and night writing. As many more days pass, Steve comes in and out with more gifts and food. You continued to ignore him, not knowing how to react, waiting for him to decide when it was your time to die finally. But the day never came. You think a month had passed, but you weren’t so sure. Steve walked into your room, undoing the chains and holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ve prepared us some dinner.” You stare at him warily before slowly standing and following him. He leads you to the kitchen and pulls out the chair for you. 

“Why am I out here?” You sit, tapping the table, watching him place the food onto the plates, not daring to touch it as Steve sits across from you. 

“I’ve come to realise something, and at first, it scared me. You’re different from the rest.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. Do you know how confusing this is for me? You’ve taken over my mind, and I can’t focus on anything else.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’ve stopped you from tricking other women into believing you love them.” Your eyes roll again, leaning back into the chair. “Do you need a tissue?” You pick up the napkin beside your plate, offering it out to him.

Steve stares at you blankly, his eye twitching as he’s stuck between wanting to strangle you and make love to you. “No, I do not need a tissue. I’m trying to tell you that I feel something for you.” He’s startled again as you laugh.

“You feel something for me?” You feel tears prick your eyes as you continue to laugh. “Oh, god. That’s probably the funniest thing I’ve heard. I think you are delusional.” You shake your head, and your laughter slowly dies down. Your eyes connect with him, and you stare. “You’ve already got me here. You don’t need to keep lying to make yourself feel better.” You continue to tap on the table. “So… When am I going to die?” 

“You aren’t. I’m keeping you alive.”

“Oh, great. Fantastic. Sounds so fun to be alive and kept locked away in a basement for the rest of my life. Good plan.” You give a little clap and throw him a fake smile. But deep down, your stomach twisted, and your heart dropped. This was worse than waiting to die. Now you would be locked away, unloved, and eventually wither away. Your expression on the outside stayed void of any emotion. 

“No, you will stay up here. With me.” 

You wished you had never even gone to that stupid market. You wished you had never believed Steve’s stupid words or smile. How could you be so stupid to believe someone would ever choose you?

You were unwanted.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[daxymmm]

“𝐀𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮…” ❤︎

Alfred x Pickles (?) LMAO IDK

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ TW: VIOLENCE.

The days felt increasingly empty in the place that was supposed to be his mind. At an amusement carnival that had now become a rollercoaster of endless emotions.

There he was, sitting, letting out a sigh that not even he knew was contained. His chapped lips curved into a small “oh,” the faint hisses of boredom were filling that gloom, that empty space that urgently needed to be filled. Or everything would collapse…Again.

His eyes, swollen from crying, wandered lazily through the dark corners, his mind was blank, but not in a good way, he was not “blank” as people describe an episode of ecstasy. He was blank because he decided to submerge into the deep sadness that crossed his being.

As if that were not enough, and although it did not help much, he was constantly visited by someone who claimed to hate him. He harassed him as if it were a hobby, his favorite pastime.

“You arrived!” It trailed from his lips, his eyes falling on the figure standing erect in front of him, his sadistic smile appearing not to intimidate him.

“Of course you do, brat…It's not like you know anyone else, or like there's a single person who likes you.” His voice was full of sarcasm and loaded with supposed hatred. Unlike before, the mocking and malicious laugh he let out every time he humiliated or tried to humiliate Alfred was no longer there. It had slowly vanished with the wind.

Slowly, his hatred dissipated, if there was even hatred beneath those cold, hard layers of his suit, fur, skin, bones and everything else.

“Anyway, what are you doing sitting there?”

“There's nowhere else to go…I can't do anything else.” His tone was void of any emotion except sadness, the sadness was perceptible. You would notice even if you were miles away.

However, as unlikely as it seemed, the sadness was mixed with a warm tone of joy? or maybe not. It was as if the dark, empty room now glimmered as it welcomed its guest.

“And you plan to stay there until you rot?”

Again, that tone full of feigned hatred. He forced himself to play the bad guy role, even though he didn't really want to. Even if his mind screamed at him to stop harassing Alfred, his ego would never allow it. For nothing in the world would he allow himself to stoop to such a level. For nothing in the world he would help someone who "hates with every fiber of his being."

Or at least, that's what he claims…

“No, but where do you want me to go? I can only wander around…I won’t get anything.”

Alfred's voice echoed again in each of the dark corners, in what remained of the Playhouse, in its safe place turned into ruins.

“I didn't ask you if you wanted to get something. I’m just saying get up now, your ass will freeze.”

The sentence itself was stupid, how could his flat ass freeze if he couldn't even feel pain in that place? Anyway, Pickles just wanted to annoy him.

“Where do you want me to go then? I don’t want to be alone.”

"I don't know, maybe to lose you in hell…This way I can annihilate Jews and make soaps with them without having to hear your unbearable voice."

His frown and mocking expression grew, if that was possible.

Alfred stood up without protest, his eyes avoiding contact with the other. Then he just walked aimlessly, trying to get to the other corner, but in reality there was no corner, it was just an illusion to convince him not to try to escape.

“Where are you going?” Pickles muttered under his breath, clearing his throat right after his murmur. “I mean…Get lost, brat. I don't want to see your disgusting face again!”

His complaint did not get a response, only the sound of retreating footsteps filled Pickles' ears. It was strange, his words always ended up making Alfred cry, but now he was just walking away.

Suddenly feeling a pang of anger, or desperation perhaps, his arm reached out almost involuntarily to stop Alfred, his grip strong enough to hold him there, but not enough to leave a mark.

“Wait, brat.”

“Didn't you want me to leave?!” For the first time, he had raised his voice at him, but the tone of his voice was pathetic as he tried to break free from Pickles' grip, “Let go of me!”

“Don't think I'll let you go, you moron.”

“I told you to let me-

Alfred stopped dead, his breath seeming to be drained from his lungs a few seconds later. Piclkes had grabbed him by the neck, lifting him from his spot, his scowl intensifying, his black eyes shining with jealousy.

Could he let it slip away just like that?

Well the answer is no.

“I'm not going to let you get out of here, you hear? I don't allow you to get close to anyone other than me. It boils my blood to see you even look at another, it turns my stomach to see you smile at Dominatrix, that's why I made sure there is no other left who can take you away from me.”

He didn't care that it was killing him here and now, the sick jealousy he felt was clouding his mind.

To the point that I couldn't hide anything from him…

“That's why I destroyed this place, I turned it into ashes just for you, for us. I made sure to kill anyone who dares to lay an eye on you…I killed them, because I can't stand the fact that someone breathes the air of your breath.”

“You're a fucking sick person.” Alfred drawled between labored breaths. “I told you to let go of me…” And he began to try to kick him, to desperately try to free himself as his consciousness drained out of him in a matter of seconds.

“Don't think I'll let you go.” He muttered under his breath, his grip on Alfred's neck loosening. But just a little.

“Please…” Alfred repeated, his hands clinging to Pickles' arms, getting no reaction from him. “I don't want to be alone again. “I don’t want to go back to reality.”

Then as his eyes were about to close, he was dropped to the ground with a thud, and the figure standing in front of him laughed, extending a hand to him.

“Are you stupid, idiot? Do you think I'll let you die? If you die I will too. As much as I want to make fun of your corpse for hours.”

“Don't tell me that.”

A sob escaped his lips, Pickles' hurtful words taking effect on him.

“Are you going to cry that easily? You won’t complain or anything?”

Alfred shook his head, another broken sob forced out. The thought of being alone hurt more than the recent strangulation.

“Why are you so mean to me? I never did anything bad to you…”

“Ugh, brat.” Pickles snorted, rolling his eyes and walking over him.

He took Alfred's face in his calloused hands, there was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, he would describe it as disgusting and unpleasant. But he refused to let it go. He refused to hold it back any longer.

“You're a nasty crybaby.” He continued, pulling the other's arm tightly, bringing his face closer to his.

“What are you doing?!” Alfred said breathlessly, trying to move away, but being prevented by the other's iron grip.

“I hate you, brat.” But he didn't mean it, judging from the way he then closed the distance between his lips, it was obvious that he didn't really hate him.

On the other hand, Alfred's heart seemed to LITERALLY burst out of his chest, blood rushing to his head in what seemed like just a blink, he was left speechless. And it wasn't because his mouth was occupied with Pickles's lips, but because that kiss seemed to take his breath away in a way that threatened to suffocate him.

“I hate you…” He repeated, his voice cutting like his claws, which held Alfred closely.

But I didn't hate him, it was impossible. His actions contradicted his words, which no matter how hurtful they intended, did not have a mere hint of a threat. Well, he was the kind of person who would say “I only do it because I feel sorry for you.” Even after the most passionate kiss a person could give or receive.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

Neither of them could focus on anything but each other, Alfred's sadness faded, as did the evil in Pickles' eyes and voice. Nothing else could be perceived, and if that were not enough, when he opened his eyes, the warmth of the other's death grip was no longer there, at least not physically.

Alfred had returned to the world he hated more than the empty Playhouse, he had returned to reality. He still felt that suffocating pressure on his neck and the pain in his arms.

Now he would have an excuse to escape from reality, an excuse to return to his empty fair, which little by little was recovering its color…

THE End :)

DUDE MY FINGERS HURT A LOT UGH

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I find You Again): Part 1

I'll be posting parts 1 and 2 right now. The rest should be up later tonight, but I'm gonna be tied up the next five or six hours.

As you can see, we have a title for this fic! (I may drop the parentheses. Been going back and forth on that.)

Summary: Danny and Jason meet shortly after Jason becomes a ghost in the zone and become good friends. This segment will cover their first two meetings.

Word Count: 2k words

----------

Jason sat on the island that appeared around him when he landed in this strange place and stared into the swirling green void. It should have been unsettling, but it felt peaceful. If he closed his eyes, it felt like his dad would be right behind him and Alfred was going to call them in for dinner any minute.

But he was surrounded by silence and all alone.

He screamed just to make a noise and turned away from the void. Behind him a punching bag had appeared. Good. With another yell he went to town on it, practicing all the punches and kicks he’d learned at Batman’s side. Gloves formed over his hands, making him realize his clothes had morphed into his Robin costume.

It just made his punches that much harder.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going at the bag when he realized some of the yells he was hearing weren’t his own.

“And fuck Chaucer!”

Chaucer? What could that be about? But the ridiculousness of it was enough to pull him from his anger. Robin faded as Jason, literary nerd, took his place. No one dissed Chaucer in his hearing. Where was the yelling coming from?

He flew up and looked around before shaking his head. He wasn’t alive anymore and his sight wasn’t his best sense here. Closing his eyes, he sent out his awareness. This close to his island, he could tell whenever anyone was nearby.

And there they were! Close, but not uncomfortably so which was why he hadn’t noticed sooner. Following the feeling, it didn’t take long to find a boy with a backpack on shouting and throwing what looked like green fire at pieces of paper.

“Oi!” he called. “Who’re you to diss Chaucer near my lair?”

“Well maybe if he would just make fucking sense, I wouldn’t have to diss him!” The boy’s hands still glowed green, and Jason fell into a defensive position.

“He does make sense! Not his fault if you’re too dense to know it.” Jason cautiously moved closer, keeping a close eye on the boy’s posture to prepare for an attack. People in this world loved to fight, but while the kid remained wary, he didn’t move to attack. As soon as Jason was close enough, he grabbed one of the papers out of the air.

It felt weird. Both more and less solid that normal paper. Where had this come from? He took his eyes off the boy to skim the paper. It was a page from an exam? Completely covered in red ink. Well-deserved red ink, too.

“Are these your answers?” Jason couldn’t help but look up with a raised eyebrow. “You really don’t understand Chaucer, do you?”

“It’s not my fault I don’t have time to study!” complained the boy. He drew up his knees and covered his face with his no-longer-glowing hands. “I’m so tired and it doesn’t make sense and Lancer doesn’t care.”

“Tired? But we’re dead. We don’t need to sleep. I didn’t even know there was a school for ghosts. Where is it? Is it any good?”

The boy pulled his hands away and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You, you don’t know who I am?”

Jason bristled and stood a little taller. “Should I?” he asked. Maybe he should venture out from his lair more. He just felt so uncomfortable anytime he left that he hadn’t bothered. What if someone came and tried to take it from him and he wasn’t there to protect it?

“No! It’s just… Everyone I’ve met has already learned about me from somewhere.” A ring of light surrounded his waist and passed over his body, leaving a living human in his place. Instinctively, Jason raised his hands again and flared his core in warning, but the boy raised his hands and sent out no-harm, peace pulses. “I’m Danny. The halfa. Half-dead, half-alive. Half-ghost, half-human.”

“How…?” Jason didn’t even know how to finish his sentence and let it trail unfinished. Though, he had seen people come back to life when he was Robin. So, maybe it did make sense.

Danny shrugged. “My parents are scientists studying ghosts. They built a portal to the zone and because I was stupid, it turned on while I was inside. Thousands of volts of electricity and ectoplasm killed and revived me at the same time.”

“That’s why the paper feels weird…” Jason grabbed one of them again and ran his fingers along it. “It’s from Earth.”

“Yep. My latest failed English test. I just don’t have the time to read the books. And when I do, I don’t see the same things Mr. Lancer swears are there! Or I don’t understand them.” Danny sighed and rubbed his face again. “I hate it. I was a straight A student before I died.”

Jason looked between the paper and the boy. “Why has it been so much harder since you died?”

“So many other ghosts are trying to get through the portal to spend time on Earth. And when they do, they hurt people or cause property damage or try and hunt me for sport. I have to stop them. Even if it’s the middle of the night or during class.”

“Oh, you’re a superhero. I was a hero, too, before I died.” He let his Robin uniform replace the civilian clothes and grinned at Danny. “I’m Jason. I’d say nice to meet you, but I can’t like anyone who disses Chaucer.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“Do you have the book with you?” asked Jason, nodding his head at Danny’s backpack.

Danny shrugged it off and pulled out a book. “Yeah, why?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.” He turned and headed back to his lair, gesturing for Danny to follow him. On his island was a building, the outside rather plain, like any run down apartment building in Gotham. But the door led directly to Alfred’s kitchen in the manor. He held it open and waved Danny through.

The boy, still in human form, looked around curiously. “You know, no one’s ever let me come to their island before. Or enter their door.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, I need to prove you wrong about Chaucer and no reason we can’t be comfortable as we do. And if I change your mind, then we can be friends!”

“And if you don’t change my mind?”

“I take you outside and we fight it out like proper ghosts.” Jason grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

Danny laughed. “All right, do your best.”

“So, the page I saw was full of questions on the Wife of Bath and her prologue and tale, so we’ll start there. To really understand her, you have to know what women dealt with in the fourteenth century…”

-----

Jason tried not to worry when Danny didn’t come back right away despite promising to return for more English tutoring. Jason also planned to help him figure out how to balance a civilian and hero life. He looked over the lesson plans for both English and martial arts training that he’d made for the hundredth time.

He was going to start with how to safely fall. Just as Dick had taught him back when Bruce first brought him home. Was Dick happy that he had Bruce to himself again now that Jason was gone? Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he looked around for something to distract himself. Bread. He could make bread. Alfred taught him how and kneading was excellent stress relief.

He’d just finished kneading and set the dough in a covered bowl to proof when he felt the unmistakable shiver that meant someone was coming close to his haunt. His Robin uniform replaced jeans and a t-shirt as he flew out the kitchen towards the intruder.

Only to laugh and relax when he saw Danny.

“So, the halfa returns! I was starting to think you didn’t like me.” Jason said it with a grin to prove it was a joke, even as something in his core relaxed.

“Sorry, life’s been hectic. Do you know Skulker? He got through the portal again and it took me three days to get him contained. And as soon as I did, Technus was out. And then my parents built a new defense system for the house that I had to dismantle before it could kill me. Again.”

“Woah, woah, wait. What was that last one?”

Danny paused. “Did I not tell you about my parents?”

“Not really. Just that they study ghosts.”

“Hunt, more like. They build ghost weapons to destroy ghosts. It’s why I haven’t told them about me. They’d accept me, I’m sure of it. But… then they talk about how they’d like to rip a ghost molecule-by-molecule and I can’t get the words out.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “And I thought I won the lottery for terrible birth parents. But at least I had Bruce and Alfred. You should contact the Justice League, get help. I can tell you how.”

But Danny just waved a hand in the air. “A year and a half ago, I would’ve jumped at the offer. But I’ve got it under control now. And I don’t want anyone with powers in Amity. What if they get overshadowed? Then I’d be fighting someone with both meta abilities and ghost abilities.”

“Overshadowed?” Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard the term before.

“You know, when you take over a human’s body and control it.”

Jason blinked. “We can do that?”

“You… didn’t know? How long have you been a ghost?”

Jason tried to consider. It was impossible to tell time in the Realms. The area off his island was always the same swirling green with no sun or moon in sight. And he wasn’t sure how long it had taken to gain consciousness after dying. He didn’t think it was immediate. “I’m… not sure. I died December 1st XX. What’s the date on Earth now?”

“So recently? I’ve never met such a young ghost before. Its only been a few weeks. Today’s the twentieth.”

That wasn’t possible. Jason shook his head. “No, that can’t be. I know I’ve been here longer than that. I know how long it takes me to read a book and how many I’ve read.”

“Time in the zone can be a bit wonky.” Danny clasped Jason’s arm. The gesture made him flinch, though he knew it was supposed to be comforting. Danny’s arms fell to his side again. “Sorry.”

Needing to change the subject, Jason asked, “So overshadowing, huh? What else can ghosts do?”

The grin Danny gave him convinced him he had the right idea. “Oh, you have no idea. How about instead of whatever you were going to show me, I teach you to fight like a ghost?”

Jason got an overwhelming feeling of fun-excitement-mischief that weren’t his own and his eyes widened. “Can I sense your emotions? Is that another ghost thing?”

Danny laughed and it was filled with so much enjoyment that Jason couldn’t even be offended. “Dude, you really don’t know anything. We can project emotions to other ghosts. It’s easy. Think something at me.”

Jason bit his lip as he considered what to do. His eyes lit up and he tapped Danny on the nose as he thought hard game-tag-play-fun before flying away as fast as he could.

Danny shouted after him, “You are so not getting away from me!”

As expected, Danny used the game to show him all the cool things ghosts could do. He could shoot energy beams now! Just like Kori! Or, well he would be just like her once he got a bit better at controlling them.

After who knows how long, they ended up lying on their backs on the grass, exhausted from the exertion. Jason wasn’t even sure who was It anymore.

It had been the most fun he'd had in longer than he cared to remember.

----------

Next

Have all the fluff. I love them so much.

Not much of a tag list yet since this is so new, but I can add more on if you'd like.

@britcision, @echoednonny

[morganski-19]

I Don’t Know Which Way’s Home

Chapter 1: The Reveal

ao3 link

September 1986

Julie slams the door shut when she comes home, she doesn’t mean to, most of the time. But today, she really does. And the hinge is already broken so what harm is it really going to do? So she ignores the comment her mom makes about it and does it again with her bedroom door, hearing the slam vibrate the walls of the trailer. 

She’s just so sick of it. It’s like every single class decides to do some stupid project that just makes her stand out from the beginning in front of kids who might not already know. Not like anyone does. Everyone knows everyone’s business in this town, and Julie’s family situation is no different. 

The problem today, was the beginning-year project her Spanish teacher assigned. A family tree, something simple to introduce yourself to the class and to see what you remembered from the last year. The only problem is, Julie is always missing half a tree. 

Her father has been a void in her life for its entirety. There’s no face to the name, and no name to even put a face to. Her mother won’t tell her anything, not even a peep. The most she knows is that he was a mistake her mom made for a few months that ended as soon as she became pregnant. Which translated into Julie’s mind that she was an accident. And with how their situation turned out, she couldn’t help but believe it was true. 

So when she’s reminded of the fact that her existence on this Earth is due to one of her mother’s flings that never lasts a year, she gets to slam a few doors. She gets to play the Iron Maiden tape she found on the ground one day at full volume without complaint. She doesn’t even like it that much, but it was free and loud enough to match the screaming that was going on inside her head. 

That’s the worst part, with how angry she can get about her family situation, she can never be mad at her mom for too long. Not after everything she’s done to make sure Julie had a good life. Not a perfect one, but one where they at least had a roof over their heads and weren’t living on the streets. 

It’s bad enough that her mom had to work two jobs just to get them by, she didn’t need to deal with all of Julie’s problems on top of that.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve just permanently broken the front door, or am I supposed to guess?” Her mom says after coming into the room without knocking and turning the music down. 

Julie grunts from where her face is dug into the pillow. Hoping that it was enough to make her mom leave, but it never was. 

“Come on,” her mom gives her a soft shove. “You don’t get to barge into the house and break a door without explanation. What’s up?”

“What up is a stupid Spanish project,” Julie complains angrily as she rolls onto her back, glaring at the ceiling. “It’s a stupid family tree where I know I’ll be questioned on it in front of the whole class, again, on why I ‘failed to include my dad on the tree’. Like I would fucking leave him out on purpose.”

She feels the bed dip as her mom sits on the foot of it. “I’ll let that slide this time because you’re upset.”

“Yeah, I am. I just am so tired of explaining it in every single damn class I seem to have that he just left and I have no clue who he is. They don’t have a right to my life and I don’t need the pity looks they give me once they figure it out. And what’s worse is that everyone in the class already knows except for the teacher, so dumb Billy Johnson will start snickering or some shit, and then I’m the kid without a dad all over again.”

“Bullies really need to get some new material,” her mom jokes without hesitation.

Julie snorts. “Tell me about it. “ She gets softer, already feeling the anger start to dissipate. And when it does, all that is left is the gaping hole in her heart that she knows will never be filled. “I don’t even care that he’s not in my life anymore, I accepted that he wouldn’t be a long time ago. I just want to know who he is. Why I’m here. Why you won’t tell me anything about him.”

“I just don’t think-”

“Oh just save it mom, I’ve heard all the excuses. I’m not a little kid anymore who writes that her dad will want to know her in her Santa letters anymore. I know he doesn’t give a shit about me, I just want to know who. I deserve to have a name to not give a shit about either.”

Her bed rises again as her mom leaves, turning the music back to full volume and shutting the door softly behind her. Julie rolls back over, pulling her blankets over her head, and starts to feel like shit again. 

It’s not just the fact that she doesn’t have a present dad that bullies love to tease, there are more kids than you’d expect with only one parent. It’s that her mom wasn’t married when she had Julie that was the problem. Unwanted pregnancies are like drugs for small towns, they spread like wildfire. The second the neighbor saw that her mom had a significant bump, it was everywhere. And then the kids heard it from their parents at every school function. 

It’s all, “Oh poor Julie Lawson, her mother couldn’t keep a boyfriend long enough for her to have a real dad.” Like they have the right to comment on Julie’s family. Or her mom. No one does, not even her. 

. . . 

October 1986, Present Day

Steve walks in after his shift with two pizzas, a six-pack of beer, and Robin right behind him. It was Friday, which means that Robin, Eddie, and him shook off the kids for a night to watch a movie. Alone. They loved the kids but sometimes it was nice to have a night without chaos. Calming even. 

Eddie wasn’t coming over for a few more hours because of his band practice, so Steve stuck the pizzas in the oven so they stayed warm. Robin already makes herself at home, rummaging through the fridge to find something to drink and making a nest out of blankets in the living room when she does. Steve follows her, digging himself into the nest and putting something on the TV. 

An hour or so later, he hears a knock at the front door. Robin gives him a concerned look as he leaves the living room to open it. Eddie had a key so he just let himself in, and they weren’t expecting anyone else. And with their track record, it could go from random salesperson to world apocalypse pretty fast. 

When he opens the door, a girl he guesses is around Dustin’s age is there, nervously playing with her hands, a backpack loosely thrown over her shoulder. “Hi, sorry to bother you but, do the Harrington’s live here?” she asks shyly.

“Yes, I’m Steve. Who are you?” There is a familiarity to her face that he can’t quite place.  

“Steve, right, he had a son. Sorry, this week’s been weird. I’m uh, my name is Julie. Your dad kinda knew my mom.”

He must have met her at one of his dad’s work events, that has to be why she looks familiar. “Oh ok, did she have to drop something off here or something?”

“Well, kinda. But it’s not what you’re probably expecting.” She pauses looking unsure of what she is going to say next. “Can I- can I come it, you might want to sit down for what I have to say. It’s kind of shocking.”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really know you. Could you tell me who your mom is, maybe I can remember you then.”

She takes a deep breath. “When I said that my mom knew your dad, I didn’t mean from work. Well, I did mean from work but she hasn’t worked for him in over fifteen years, so I doubt you’d remember her. She was his secretary for a while, and they had a very,” she pauses again, looking around to see if anyone is there. “Intimate, relationship.”

The dots clicked immediately in his head, thoughts immediately started to run around about who this girl could really be. He thinks that her offer to sit down was probably necessary. “Yeah, why don’t you come in.”

“Ok.” She steps through the doorway, waiting for him to lead her through the house. 

He brings her to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at the small table. Grabbing a few glasses, he fills them with water and brings them over, placing one in front of her. She thanks him, taking it and gulping it down with shaky hands. The more he looks at her, the more he can’t help but see more and more similarities, just ones that remind him of himself. 

“Who was it, Steve,” Robin asks, wandering into the kitchen. “Oh shit, hi.”

“Rob, this is Julie, her mom apparently knew my dad.” Steve makes a motion with his head to indicate how, hoping that she can read it right. 

Her eyes widen in shock. “Oh like, special knew. Like knew knew.”

“Yes,” Julie says weakly. “Yeah, they did.”

“Oh shit,” Robin takes a seat next to Steve, her hand immediately finding his. It brings comfort, reassurance that she’s there. He knew his dad was a piece of crap cheater, his mom certainly made it known during many of their screaming matches. But with the girl staring at him with the same eyes he sees every morning in the mirror, his brain can’t help but jump to the conclusion that she’s, something. And that just makes his chest tighten in anxiety.

“I, uh.” Julie starts, wringing her hand nervously again. “I don’t really know how to say this gently. But, when my mom worked for your dad, they had an affair. It didn’t last that long, but remember when I said my mom stopped working for him like fifteen years ago? It was actually seventeen because that’s when she figured out she was pregnant.”

Steve feels a lump forming in his throat as she nods, trying to take it all in. “With you?” he asks, not knowing how he is even speaking at all right now. Robin squeezes his hand.

Julie gives a small nod, looking down at the table. “Yeah.”

“And my dad is-” he can’t finish the sentence, but it’s answered by her sorry nod. “Holy shit.” 

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around everything. This girl, Julie, is his sister. Half-sister, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Robin breaks her contact with him and goes to rub his back instead. His head falls into his hands propped up on the table and he just focuses on breathing. 

“Steve, you ok?” Robin’s voice soothes him a little bit, but when your world just gets shattered, there’s not much that can be done to help completely. 

“I knew he cheated. I knew that. It’s why my mom followed him around on all his trips. But he- he had a kid, and just hid it.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot, I have proof if you want to see it.”

Steve looks at Robin, asking her what to do with his eyes. She shrugs, her way of saying that it couldn’t hurt. Probably is better that they have proof anyway, make sure this is legit. He nods, unable to say anything. 

“Could we see it? Just to double-check everything,” Robin asks for him. God, he’s so happy that she’s here. He can’t imagine doing this by himself

Julie ruffles around in her backpack, random clothes peeping out as she pulls out a file. She opens it, pulling out two pieces of paper before going in again and pulling out what looks like a school ID. “Here’s my birth certificate and the paternity test. And my ID with my picture on it, so you know it’s me.”

The first thing he sees is his father’s name on the test results, followed by the line saying his relation to Julie is undeniable. That he was undeniably the father. The birth certificate only has the signature of her mother and the doctor, but the father’s name is absent. He ditched them, probably made her mom prove that this kid was his, and then just paid them to shut them up. His mom would never know, he would never know, and they never had access to any of his records. 

Julie Rebecca Lawson, born January 28, 1970. He was three when she was born. He’s had a sibling this whole time, and he didn’t even know it. 

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Robin asks, softly. 

Julie’s face visibly falls as she rapidly blinks away some tears. “She- she died two weeks ago. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Julie,” Robin reaches across to comfort her, but the hand she was going to grab gets pulled away. “Whoever is watching you then, do they know where you are?”

She sniffles. “I’ve been staying with a foster family while they find a permanent placement. They don’t really care where I am. My caseworkers were trying to find some family, but my grandparents are long gone and my mom’s sister is in no place to take in a kid. So they were looking on my dad’s side.” She says the word dad as if they don’t fit right in her mouth. 

“I didn’t come here looking for a place to say,” she continues. “Right before my mom passed, she finally told me about my dad. How he never wanted anything to do with me because he had a big reputation and another family. It was supposed to be a secret, but the more I thought about it, I couldn’t help but think that you had a right to know. And then since she-, since I needed a place to stay, it was only a matter of time before you found out. I knew he was out of town so I thought it might be better to say it myself. Now I’m not so sure that was such a great idea.”

“No,” Steve finally says. “I’m, I’m glad you told me. You’re right, we, me and my mom, had a right to know. So, thank you.” He turns to look at Robin, her face shifting when she sees the panic in his. “Rob, could I talk to you for a minute?”

She stands. “Yeah. We’ll be right back, ok Julie.” 

Julie says a soft reply as Robin leads Steve to the living room. “I don’t know what to do, Rob.”

“How could you? You just found out that your dad had another kid. With another woman. And then hid it from you. How are you supposed to cope with that information?”

“I don’t know. I have no clue what to do. But I can’t-. Shit Rob, I want to help her.”

“Steve, you don’t know her, at all. She just spawned on your doorstep not even an hour ago and just dropped the biggest bombshell on you since the, you know what. I get that you want to help her, I do. Shit, I do too. But I’m just asking that you take a step back and think about this.”

Steve crosses his arms, pulling his eyebrows together. The decision was pretty much made in his mind, but she was right. “What if she stays the night, we sleep on this and get to know her more tomorrow. Then we can go from there.”

“Ok,” she puts a hand on Steve’s arm. “That’s a good plan.” 

Robin steps forward, pulling him into a hug before they walk back into the kitchen. Julie looks back up at them, uncertainty filling her face. It reminds him so much of himself it sort of hurts. “Julie, you can stay the night, if you want to. That way tomorrow we can talk some more, and get to know each other, figure out what to do about this. But I can drive you back to the house you’re staying at if you’d like.”

“Could I stay here, I really don’t like it there.” The fear that coats her eyes with the mention only makes it worse. 

“Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

Julie stands, grabs her bag and follows after Steve. When he shows her to the room, she stands in it like like she knows she doesn’t belong. He can’t help but think it’s not the first time she’s felt like this, especially since he’s pretty sure she brought enough clothes for a few days in her bag. 

He tells her where the bathroom is, where his bedroom is if she needs anything. She nods silently. The similarities between them keep coming in waves. Sure they’re not like an exact match. But her eyes, her jawline, her hair, it’s ever so similar to his. If they were to walk down the street together, it would be clear that they were siblings. 

The fact that it’s true just keeps shocking him all over again. 

“You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, and there’s plenty of supplies in the bathroom if you need any. I keep it all under the sink. And, don’t be afraid to ask for anything, ok?” He stands there awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to do. 

“Ok,” she replies softly, placing her bag on the bed and pulling out some things. 

When he shuts the door behind him, it finally hits. He practically runs back down the stairs to find Robin waiting in the living room, on the phone with someone. 

“Yeah, something came up and we can’t do movie night anymore. No nothing bad, yeah no he’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all good, just a migraine. Yep. I’ll have him call you tomorrow. No, you don’t need to do that. Ok, bye.” Robin turns to him when she hangs up the phone. “Eddie, thought it was pretty clear that movie night was canceled.”

“Yeah, no, it was. I-” the words get stuck in his throat. “I have a sister, Rob.”

Robin crosses over to him, pulling his fingers away from where they held his arms in a death grip. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

“Angry mostly. How could he keep this from us, from my mom? From me? Do you know how many times I wished for a sibling, only for me to have one all along and just not know about it? And then she goes through life knowing her dad didn’t want her. I can’t begin to imagine what that is like.”

“Pretty shitty probably. What do you really want to do about all of this Steve?”

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. I want to help her, get to know her. But I-I don’t know if I can do this.”

“She wasn’t asking you to fix everything. She just lost her mom, I think she just wants someone to lean on like that again.”

“But what if I can’t even do that?”

Robin gives him a soft look that he knows means he’s overthinking it all again. “Let’s go get some sleep ok. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

They walk upstairs, passing the room that Julie is staying in on the way to his. He remembers being little and looking at the empty guest rooms in his house, wondering when people would come to fill them. Wishing that when they did, they’d stay for longer than a week. Maybe then he wouldn’t be alone anymore. 

When he was really young, he would sit in the rooms and pretend that it was other kids that filled them. Brothers and sisters that he got to play with for however long he wanted to. His nights would feel less empty and during the day he’d be less lonely. He’d be like every other kid on the playground with their siblings, pushing them on the swings and chasing them around the park. The house would be full of noise instead of deafening silence. 

But that day never came. The years went on and he kept getting older. His mom went on more and more trips and then just stopped calling. The only time his dad ever called was after the police told him that he’d thrown a party. He used to just mess up just to hear his dad’s voice. Because then maybe he could convince himself that his dad cared for him. If you're disappointed enough to yell, that has to mean you care about something. 

Most people say wait until you’re older and then you’ll understand like it’s some kind of mystery that everyone cheers when you solve it. Not knowing that some mysteries only crush the people around them. Steve Harrington spent most of his life alone and it wasn’t until he graduated and no one from his family showed up that he finally accepted why. 

As he looks back at the guest room, he can’t help but feel that part of himself get unearthed again. That sad little kid that begged for someone who he could grow up with. Knowing that was there across town all his life only makes him hurt all over again. 

The urge to call his dad right then and there is strong. To scream at him for hiding something that he wanted for so long. Yell at him for being a piece of shit to not just him, but to his mom, and to Julie. He was used to his dad, no one else deserved to be hurt like he was. 

. . . 

Julie lays in a bed that is bigger than one she’s owned in her entire life. Having one of this size would make it easier when she and her mom would share when her back was too sore after her double shifts to take the cot. The sheets are softer and clearly barely used, the fabric smells of fresh flowers. 

She’s almost angry at all of this. That one person could have so much and be so cruel. That Steve got more out of their dad than she ever did. But one of them was wanted, the other clearly wasn’t. 

The word still feels weird in her mind. Their dad. She didn’t even know the guy but she spent so long hating someone who was a dad to someone else. But by the lack of family pictures on the wall and the way Steve talked about him just briefly, it doesn’t look like he was much of a dad to Steve either. 

She wonders what it’s like to live in this giant house alone. The empty walls and rooms prepared for people but never filled. There were at least two living rooms in this house and a kitchen just made for a party. A house so perfect from the outside but so broken from within. 

Steve at least seemed nice, even after she broke the news. Hell, she’s still here, isn’t she? In her mind, she was preparing for the worst. To be kicked out on the curb right after even implying that her father was just that, her father. Because a businessman with a poster family could never do anything wrong, could never be a terrible person who would have a kid and just abandon it. 

But she was believed, and accepted. Allowed to stay the night in a house she always dreamed of living in with a family she didn’t even know existed. She just hopes that in the morning it all won’t go to shit like everything else in her life seems to. 

. . . 

September 1986

Julie hears her mom call out for dinner from the kitchen. As much as she’d like to still be angry, she can’t force herself to avoid her mom forever. For what it’s worth, her mom is all she has in the realm of family and a friend. There’s no one who knows her like she does, and it’d just be cruel to let the pain of the past dwell any longer. 

Except this isn’t a pain of the past, not for Julie. Almost daily she’s reminded that there’s someone out there who doesn’t care enough to know her, and that person is half the reason she exists. It seemed like everyone else in this town knew who their father was, even if they weren’t around, except for her. 

But she can’t help but think about what her mom went through. How raising a kid on her own had to be, especially in a town like this. Someone she obviously cared about just dropping her after a positive test and leaving her high and dry. Life was hard, but she managed, somehow. Julie’s not so sure she would have in her position. 

“I want to talk to you about something,” her mother starts once the table is cleared. She goes to sit back at the table, placing a folder on top of it. “What you said earlier, you’re right. You have a right to know who your father is, whether he’s in your life or not.”

Julie sits across from her mom. “I was just angry before, you really don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

It’s a lie and they both know it. 

“No, you need to know. There’s going to be a point in the future where you’ll need to know certain things, medical history and such. And there might be a day when his family finds out about you and comes asking for questions.”

“His family,” she says shocked. 

Her mom nods. “A wife and a son. He had both of them already when we were together.”

Julie’s entire world shifts. “What?”

“A year before you were born, I worked as a secretary for Richard Harrington in his business, well his dad’s business at the time. We entered an, inappropriate relationship, which ended up in you.”

“Inappropriate’s one way to say it,” she jokes under her breath. “He’s a big deal in town, Mom, his whole family is.”

Her mom nods. “It was risky and stupid and I never should have done it. But back then, he was good at hiding what a terrible person he was behind his looks and his charm. It wasn’t until you got to know him and got on his bad side that things went south.”

“So, when you got pregnant with me?”

“It went south, fast. I told him, he wanted you gone but I couldn’t go through with it. So instead we came up with a deal. I prove you were his with a paternity test, and he gives me a monthly payment to shut me up. It wasn’t a lot, clearly, but it would be enough to pay off the trailer in a few years and make sure we had money for bills.”

“I’m surprised that he gave you anything at all.” It really couldn’t have been that much if her mom had to work two jobs just in order to scrape by. 

“The rich will do anything to keep a secret, including bribery. Everything you could ever need to know about him is in this file. With a copy of your birth certificate and the paternity test. Just so you have it. I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

She looks at the file in her hand. It’s still pretty empty, but it has just enough. “I can see why you did. It’d be worse for you for a kid to accidentally tell everyone their dad is a Harrington.”

“It’d be bad.” Her mom clears her throat, looking down at her hands. “I also didn’t want you to think differently of me. I slept with a married man after all, for a year. That’s a pretty shitty thing to do to someone, even if you don’t know them.”

“Yeah, it is.” Julie would be lying if she said it didn’t come as a shock, that her mom would do that. All this time she thought that her dad was some drugged-up guy that she hooked up with for a month or two before they stole all her cash and ran off. That’s who her boyfriends were in the past few years, so it wouldn’t have been a surprise. But a married man, one with a kid, that’s a new one.  “Do you regret it? Sleeping with him.”

“All the time, but then I’d never have you.” She reaches her hands across the table and cups them around Julie’s. “You’re my life, Jules. I love you more than anything, and I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant never having you.” 

Julie puts a smile on her face. “Love you too, Mom. And thank you for telling me about this. Now I have a name to not give a shit about.”

“Yeah, now you do.”

Her mom gives her one last smile before going to the living room and setting up her cot. Julie takes the file and heads to her room, shutting the door softly behind her. 

She doesn’t know how to describe what she’s feeling. Like a weight has been lifted off of her but a new feeling of dread came to replace it. The name of the person who she’s hated for so long is in her hands, and she doesn’t know what to do with it other than hate him more. He had a wife, and a kid, a young kid, and he still went and had an affair. 

When she lies in her bed, waiting for sleep to come, all she can picture is the face of the man who ruined not only one life but three. And while her mom isn’t blameless, she can’t help but think that there is more to the story than her just willingly sleeping with him. She imagines taking her fist and hitting him straight in his smug face. Once for her mom, and once for her. 

Chapter 2

tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @adaed5, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17

[anything4mymoony]

It's Alright (r.l x reader)

Professor Lupin x reader (not rlly)

( Fluff, hurt, comfort ) this isn't really a x reader, its more of a tender moment between a student and teacher, remus being the caring professor he would have been if he didn't leave Hogwarts.

trigger warnings: slight mentions of self harm and suicide

~ ~ ~

Remus lupin knew how it felt to be ignored. He knew how it felt to be drowning and screaming into an endless void where no one can hear him. He knew what it was like to always be the therapist but to never have anyone listen to him. As a professor, he tried to pay careful attention to his students, and when those begun to struggle, he would leave little bars of chocolate for them to find on their desks, encouraging notes scrawled on the wrapper. He knew it wasn’t much in his eyes, but to his students, it meant the world to them. 

So it wasn’t a surprise when he had begun to catch on with the strange behavior of one of his students

During class he had noticed her vacant stare. How it seemed like too much effort to even lift her quill to take notes. At first he figured that it had been a late night for her. That she had stayed up studying and now faced the consequences. But it wasn’t until he saw the briefest wince at the slightest shift of her arm, as if a fresh wound had rubbed against the fabric of her robes. 

Now, Remus had always been taught to look out for the warning sings of depression, but he never thought that he would have to intervene. Of course, depression was always a thing and could happen to anyone. It happened to him after Sirius was sent to imprisonment and when Lily and James passed. So he knew the feeling, and it broke his heart to see one of his students feeling the same way. 

She was young. And the world should have been bright for her. He couldn’t imagine what trials she would have been facing to sit in his class with such a vacant stare in her face. One of the things he had looked forward to his classes was seeing ophelia’s face light up whenever she learned something cool. It inflicted a sense of pride inside of him, that maybe despite his condition, he could lead a normal life as a teacher. Now, he missed that look. He missed the way her eyes would light up- just any sort of emotion that would come from her. 

So he made a mental note to check up on her after class. 

She didn’t have anything to pack up, yet she remained in her seat. Her chest felt heavy and all of her limbs felt as if they were made of stone. It would take a great deal of energy just to walk out of her dorm. She debated skipping the rest of her classes and lying in the comforting solitude of her darkened room, staring at nothing. But then, a golden beam of light came to her. 

Professor lupin sat down in the desk in front of her, concern filling his dark brown eyes as he watched her, long fingers folded together. 

“Y/n,” he said softly. 

She gazed at him, “yes, professor?” 

“I…” he wet his lips, trying to find the right words, “how are you doing? Are you alright?” 

“I am, professor.” The words came out before she could even think. Such a robotic response to the question asked. It was a little more believable than a “I’m fine.” But, something deep down inside of her was beginning to cry out. Something that wished to be let loose. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to dump her problems on someone else. Everyone always had It worse, so why bitch and moan about feeling empty and like a failure? Everyone did. What made her so special and different?

Professor Lupin shook his head, “no, you’re not alright. if you don’t feel comfortable sharing with me what’s going on, that’s alright. You don’t own me an explanation, but please do not lie to me. I care about your wellbeing and your safety.” 

But that’s always it isn’t it? She thought. It’s always her well-being and her safety as if she was going to throw herself out a window at any given moment. Oh no- don’t upset poor y/n or she might drown herself in the black lake. Don’t critique her too much otherwise she’ll cry. 

She didn’t know what she wanted, but that wasn’t it. 

She made a move to pick up her bag and leave, her eyes had begun to sting. 

“I care about you.” Professor Lupin’s voice was soft and gentle, “and I want you to be okay. I don’t want you to feel so sad.” 

“I’m not,” she whispered, “I’m not doing so well.” 

She forced herself to look up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. Just seeing his face, hearing his words- it was enough to all at once feel the pain once more. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I…everything is just too much. The world- life…me. I feel like I’m in this vacant shell and there is this hole inside of me that nothing can fill. Nothing can make me happy and I’m just sinking. The more I try to pull myself out the further I sink down.” 

Out of instinct, she pressed the pad of her fingertip to the wound on her arm under the desk, she winced. 

“Do you hurt yourself, love?” 

She felt embarrassed, ashamed. Everyone managed to keep their motions in check, why couldn’t she? It was stupid, hurting herself because she either felt too much or couldn’t feel anything. But it wasn’t that. Sometimes, she got so stuck in her head there was so way of coming back. She felt herself sinking and sinking the pain was the only way to keep her afloat. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, voice breaking. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright.” Professor Lupin cooed, reaching out to gently grab her arm, “it’s alright you hear me? You have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer this long, you don’t deserve it.” 

A tear slipped out from the corner of her eye and rolled down her face. She felt it splatter on her skirt. 

“I…” her throat was tight and burned. She kept her gaze down on the dark splatter of her skirt. She shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t be crying in front of her teacher like a little kid. She was older now for goodness sake, start acting like it. 

Remus cooed softly before he stood up from the desk. She was so sure that he was going to send her to madam prom fey to become someone else’s problem, but to her surprise, he hugged her. 

He actually hugged her. 

She was swept up in a warm embrace, his long arms curled around her as if he was going to protect her from the world’s hurt. He carefully rested his cheek on the top of her head, whispering quietly as more tears fell past her eyes and ran down his bare wrist. 

She ached, and her heart yearned. She shut her eyes for the briefest of moments and tried to revel in the tender moment, of feeling….loved. 

It wasn’t the kind of love that was lustful and vain. It wasn’t the kind of love that was mistaken by infatuation, or the kind that was withheld at every given moment, or the type to be earned. This kind…was tender. It was tender and pure and it came from someone who cared about her. It wasn’t feigned or because they had to care. It was because he wanted to care about her. 

When her tears finally dried, he pulled away, kneeling down to face her. 

“Listen, I’m here for you, okay? One of the worst aspects of depression is how it convinces you that you are alone. i never want you to feel that way again, okay?” 

She nodded, rolling her lip between her teeth as she played with her hands in her lap. 

“You can always come to me, as a friend or a teacher. And it doesn’t have to be about what’s going on. If you don’t feel like being alone or need a place to breathe, my office always welcomes you, alright?” 

She nodded again, this time a small bashful smile creeping on her face. 

Professor Lupin gave her a soft smile before he reached up and gently wiped away a stray tear on her cheek. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better.” And this time she wasn’t lying. 

He nodded before standing up, a soft grunt coming from him as he stretched out his legs. “Atta girl, now get to class.” 

She smiled wider this time as she picked her bag up and begun to head out the door. 

“Y/n?” Professor Lupin called out. 

She peaked over her shoulder, hand pressed against the door to go. 

“I’m very proud of you.” Remus smiled at her. 

~ ~ ~

If you or anyone you know is experiencing thoughts about sucicide, self harm, or experiencing any kind of depression, anxiety, please know that help is always available. There are numerous recourse on the internet to help you get the help that you need. 

Keep going my strong, and brave warriors. The world may not be kind but you certainly are and we want you to stay. I promise you there will be a day where you won’t feel like this anymore. 

Warmest hugs and gentle kisses, 

Portia 

[wackybuddiemewbs]

Did anyone say WIP snippets no one asked for? No? Well, here it is anyway...

For context... yeah, it's *that* coma dream from Bones fans will adore and hype, rightfully so, to this day. Because the scenes for my long-ass Bones AU before that are not really done... we're just jumping right into the coma dream following Eddie being taken out by a sniper, following him and Buck investigating Charlie's case.

As for reference: We currently stand at roughly 540k something something words for this fic that's not a fic, not counting notes and ideas. If we count those, too, we're at 581k something something. AKA why, God, whyyyyyy???

The End in the Beginning Part ???

He watches numbly as his body is tossed around like a rag doll, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Blood sprays from his shoulder like the water bombs Buck and Christopher tossed around the yard on a particularly hot day this summer. He can’t hear them giggle, though.

White-hot pain explodes in his shoulder, knocking the air out of him.

Eddie gasps for air to fill his lungs, but it won’t come.

Why can’t he breathe?

He wants to say something, but the words won’t come. Sirens scream in his ears, deafen him. The sunlight above blinds him. The pain ebbs into numbness as he falls to the ground.

Three senses shutting down, two left. Gotta stay awake. Gotta stay…

Eddie can still smell. He can tell that he’s on gravel, out in a street. Gasoline and smoke lie in the air, burned rubber and oil. And blood. He can smell his own blood, metallic. He can also taste it, iodic, cold. And it makes him want to gag.

The world grows hazy, blurry, tilts this way, then the other. For a moment, Eddie believes he is lying on desert sand, but he after blinks once, twice, a third time, he is back on the street, blood pooling underneath him. No sand to absorb it, just the gravel. His life is draining out of him, and he is watching it happen.

But that can’t be, can it?

He promised, after all. To come back home.

Christopher.

He has to come back home to him. He has to…

“Eddie? Eddie!”

Buck? Is he here, too? He can’t be here. It’s too dangerous.

Eddie wants to shout again, back into the blankness from where he can hear Buck’s voice. He wants to tell him to stay away, to stay safe. He can’t get hurt, too. If Eddie can’t get back home, Buck has to. For Christopher. Not just for Christopher, but also for Christopher. To look after him.

And because he needs to be safe. He needs to be safe, please.

“Just hold on! I’m gonna go get you!”

No, stay away! he screams internally, but it’s lost to the void. Stay safe!

“Stay with me, Eddie!”

He wants to, he does. More than anything. Blindly, Eddie reaches to the source of the voice calling him, but the white light mingles with the blackness spreading across his eyes.

Please forgive me, he thinks as all senses shut down. I tried, I did.

The black swallows him whole. He sees nothing, hears nothing, tastes nothing, smells nothing. Whatever it is that he is touching, whatever it might be that is touching him, he can’t feel it anymore. Because it’s over, it’s done.

I’m sorry.

--------------------------

Eddie wakes up with a gasp. He sits up, rubs his eyes, feels faint wetness against his fingertips. Black dots mingle with white ones.

Just like…

Panting, he lets one hand fall down to his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and there is no wetness, no blood. His white shirt is crisp and clean, just rumpled from sleep. Because apparently, he is in bed, his bed. At home. It’s dark outside, light cracking through the door that’s left slightly ajar.

There is no gravel digging into his skin. No pool of blood forming underneath him. No sirens blaring. No cold spreading inside him. No searing pain. No one screaming his name as he keeps bleeding out.

It’s just him, sitting in his bed, sweat-soaked. With a heart that can still beat as fast as it does. Because he is alive. Not dead, alive. At home, alive.

So it was just a dream…

Eddie is pulled out of his thoughts when the door opens slowly. It takes him a few moments to recognize the outline of the person entering.

Buck.

He slips inside, careful not to make any noises as he works on the cuffs of his shirt. Buck’s eyes find his in the dark, and a shy smile creeps up his lips.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, did I wake you again?” he asks in a hushed voice, like he’s done that a million times. And Eddie feels like it’s been a million times that he couldn’t help but smile at that. So he does, and Buck smiles back at him, ducking his head.

Eddie frowns, then answers, “No.”

“Oh, good,” Buck sighs, relieved. His eyes drift to the alarm clock next to Eddie on the nightstand.

“You’re late,” Eddie finds himself say, like he knows what time Buck should be here, should be home.

“I know, I know, I promised not to work overtime, but I just had to wrap up the preparations for the new exhibition,” Buck continues, almost pleads. “Bobby said it’d be fine to finish early next morning, but you know how it is with me. Even if I had gone on time, I would have assembled the exhibits in my mind. So no sleep… which means I could have just as well finish now, so I might actually rest.”

Eddie can’t put his finger on it, but there is something about Buck that’s different in a way. He is his awkward, weird self, alright. But he also seems… at ease? Like he doesn’t have to prove anything anymore.

It suits him.

Buck chuckles to himself. “For that we’re dealing exclusively with fossils in our department, you’d think us paleontologists wouldn’t be on such a tight schedule. Yet, here we are.”

“But you got it all set?” Eddie asks, like he knows what that’s about. And it feels familiar, too. In the way that makes his lips curl into a soft smile as he listens to Buck ramble on about something that excites him, which are so many things. It feels like they had this very same conversation a hundred times over. So he probably did, right?

After all, it was just a nightmare, right?

“Duh.” Buck unbuttons his shirt. “Chris is gonna love it for sure. So you know what our plans for the weekend are.”

“Well, so long I don’t have to show him around and pretend to know the names of the dinosaurs, I’m happy to tag along,” Eddie answers automatically.

“I guess that can be arranged,” Buck laughs easily. He takes off the shirt and slips on a loose shirt he picks out of the drawer blindly. Then he slips out of his pants and hangs them over the chair. Eddie watches on, wondering why he wonders about that as much as he does. Because this is an evening like any other. They are at ease. They are at home. They are safe.

Everything is as it ought to be, right?

Smiling, Buck makes his way over to Eddie’s side of the bed and sits down on the edge. The mattress dips under his weight, as though to draw Eddie just one inch closer. And Eddie happily lets himself sink just that inch closer to feel Buck’s warm body radiate heat against his slightly clammy skin, making him feel anything but dead.

“Sorry,” Buck says sheepishly, then leans over and kisses Eddie gently on the lips. “Almost forgot.”

The kiss feels chaste yet intimate. Like it has been practices for many years, and Eddie leans into its familiarity, lets the warm feeling cast out the remains of that nightmare that left him to shiver before.

“Hi,” Buck whispers, grinning against his lips.

“Hi,” Eddie chuckles, leaning his forehead against Buck’s for a moment. They stay like that for a short while, though Eddie wouldn’t mind if eternity felt like that either.

Buck pulls back a bit to look at him, knitting his eyebrows. “You okay?”

He frowns. “Yeah, why?”

“You just have that broody face going on, which normally means there’s something you don’t wanna talk about but maybe should be talking about,” Buck explains. “And I know that you don’t do, unless I ask. So… I ask.”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times, then he says, “I just had a really weird dream, is all.”

“Weird in the creepy yet exciting way or weird in the… unnerving kind of way that makes you wanna hide under the covers?” Buck wants to know. Eddie doesn’t miss how he unconsciously starts to sweep his thumb up and down along Eddie’s forearm.

“It was just… odd. I got shot in the streets. You were there, too, I think you were, and… I think a sniper took me down. But… it didn’t feel like me, you know? Like it was some other version of me getting shot, one that got it handed to him pretty badly,” Eddie ponders.

It felt so real, though…

“Well, getting shot by a sniper doesn’t sound pleasant, that’s for sure,” Buck says sympathetically.

“Not really.”

“Though thankfully, statistically speaking, it’s very unlikely for a man installing security systems in buildings to get shot in the streets by a sniper,” Buck tells him with a small grin.

Eddie smirks. “That’s still Security Management Specialist for you.”

“Sorry, sorry. You did a wonderful job at the Jeffersonian, specially managing all our security,” Buck laughs, then slips his hand over the back of Eddie’s. He lets his finger rest against a metal band there that Eddie didn’t even feel as foreign until now. “You made me a very proud husband once all was installed. Like, yeah, my man did that.”

Buck pecks him on the cheek, tangling his arms around Eddie’s shoulder loosely. “Sorry you had a bad dream, though.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Eddie assures him, though honestly, he assures himself foremost. Eddie buries his head against Buck’s clavicle, soaking up even more of the warmth Buck radiates, the comfort he offers by just being there. “At least I got up for you to distract me. You always make me forget all that crap in an instant.”

“Do I?” Buck whispers, almost sings it like a lullaby.

“Always.”

They pull apart to chase each other’s lips, not desperately, but with more need than before. To assure each other that they are indeed there. That they can hold each other that close. That they have each other.

And it seems to work like a charm. Eddie can’t hear the sirens anymore. He only hears the rustling of the sheets and Buck’s shallow intakes of air whenever their lips part. He doesn’t taste blood on his tongue. He tastes spearmint from the gum Buck must have chewed on the ride back, he sometimes does that when he’s tired and needs to stay awake. He doesn’t smell gravel and smoke. He smells the last remains of Buck’s cologne. He tastes and smells and feels Buck. And in that small world, everything makes perfect sense. Kissing Buck and holding him close, that’s all it takes for his world to make sense.

Stay with me…

Once they break up the kiss, Eddie nudges his nose against the side of Buck’s, resting his face more against Buck’s, leaning into the comfort he provides by just being there, by staying without Eddie having to ask for it.

“I missed you,” Eddie breathes.

Buck chuckles at that. “I wasn’t gone that long, c’mon.”

“In my dream, I missed you. I couldn’t… I heard you, but I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t… get to you,” Eddie mumbles.

“I’m here now.”

And Eddie can hear it, the unspoken “I’m staying”. He takes another deep breath, takes it all in.

“What do you need?” Buck asks.

“Just you,” Eddie replies simply.

Because it is that simple. He needs Buck, and Buck is here.

What more do I need?

Buck’s fingers run soothing circles around the back of his neck and head. They stay like that for a while. Because there is no need for a rush. They aren’t just stealing moments, glances. They have them, they can create them. They are theirs to claim.

“Feeling better?” Buck whispers after a while.

“Very much,” Eddie confirms. “Just your kind of magic.”

Buck groans, leaning his head back. “Eddie, magic doesn’t exist, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughs.

“So… Want some more distraction?” Buck asks, teasing.

Eddie grins against his cheek. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not enough not to want this,” Buck replies, letting his hand slide down Eddie’s side, making him shudder. “Never enough to not want you.”

Eddie lets himself ease back down on the bed, pulling Buck with him so that he is halfway sprawled across his chest. “If that’s the case… Then yeah, distract me.”

“That can be arranged,” Buck laughs, pecking one of Eddie’s scars briefly.

“I love you, you know?” Eddie mutters, feeling like he can’t say it often enough, like he probably hasn’t said it enough.

Because things can happen… people get shot in bright daylight…

“Well, that’s convenient. Coz I love you, too,” Buck snickers, his entire face lighting up, even in the dark. “And I’m about to show you just how much I love you.”

Eddie laughs as he turns them both over, leaving him on top. For a moment, he just lingers there, traces the faint outlines of Buck in the dark with his eyes. He slips one hand against Buck’s palm, finds the metal band there and runs his fingertips across it, maybe for good luck, he isn’t sure. But he never takes his eyes off of Buck, searches him in the dark and finds him there, waiting, staying. And once he does, he leans in and kisses him in all earnest. Not for the last time tonight, it’d seem.

It was really just a dream, then.

Thank God I woke up, then.