#kind of a jekyll hyde situation but not at all its just that shes very silly mode except the times she says some out of pocket warlock shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

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emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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thedupshadove · 3 years

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So, we’ve all been Ooo-ing and ahh-ing over that Barbie Gothics series of drawings, and it’s inspired me to imagine what the Barbie Movie versions of these stories would actually look like.

Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde: Henrietta Jekyll is London’s most celebrated Doctor and most in-demand socialite. But she’s got a secret--beneath her sparkling charm and endless kindness there lie harsh, snappish thoughts and bursts of vicious temper. Her attempt to use her medical brilliance to cure herself of these thoughts only leads to the creation of another self: the selfish, cruel, and impulsive Ms. Hyde, who runs rampant across London in the dead of night while Dr. Jekyll grows weaker and weaker by the day. Once she discovers what she’s done, Jekyll’s response initially lies in the realm of destroying Hyde forever--if she can find a way to do this without sacrificing her own body, she can finally achieve her initial goal! But over the course of the climax, it becomes clear that this is impossible, and furthermore, Hyde takes Jekyll to task for casting her out, denying their unity. The true solution turns out to be one of reintegration, with Hyde’s excesses no longer being given full reign of the body at the expense of Jekyll having to accept that she is, after all, not perfect. And we all learn a Very Important Lesson about facing the parts of ourselves that we aren’t always comfortable with, so we can deal with them in healthy ways.

Dracula: The Countess decides that she has lived alone in her castle for too long. It’s time for some fresh air--to get out and see how the world has changed and make new friends! But as she does just that--makes contact with a realtor, buys a house, travels to London, and meets the most fascinating people--she becomes troubled by all the ways in which her new friends are so different from her, not to mention the thoughts that all of them will die someday and she will lose them. So she sets about her campaign of vampirising her new social circle--everybody wins that way! (...right?) But of course, this turns out not to have been a good idea at all, and the people she vamps are less than happy about it, and this time we learn Valuable Lessons about accepting both that good things can’t always last forever, and that not all of our friends need to be exactly like us, and nor will they all want to. Also because this is a Barbie movie, there is presumably something that will allow them to reset-button all the Vampings that have happened since the film began, although not un-Vamp the Countess herself.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: Dorian is another socialite, having benevolently reigned over the London social scene for...wait, how long has it been? Wait, that long? Well...she looks good for it, certainly. But there’s something...odd about her eyes. Eventually, her friends find the portrait...and rather than being a monument to a lifetime of causal cruelty, it just looks how Dorian would have looked if she had aged normally. But something about the painting’s existence is taking a negative toll on her health despite its anti-aging effects, and here we are in a big old allegory about how the obsession with unending youth isn’t healthy. The painting is destroyed, Dorian ages...and the final scene is her emerging into the ballroom for the latest Grand Soiree that she was set to host, obviously anticipating the worst, only for everybody to still accept her just the same.

Bonus! Two that haven’t been illustrated, but the ideas stuck out in my head.

Frankenstein: Victoria Frankenstein is happy enough, practicing her strange sciences in her family’s ancestral castle. But with only Igonina for company, she’s grown lonely. She’s always been more than a little shy, and tends to do badly in social situations, but one day she gets an idea--why worry about making friends...when you can make friends! Thus is born Eve, the apple of Victoria’s eye, showered with affection and patiently taught everything from organic chemistry to Italian opera, and all is right with the world...that is, until Eve joins the ranks of Johanna Barker, Shilo Wallace, and Disney’s version of Rapunzel by developing the intense desire to get out of this dang castle and see the world, or at least the village. So one day she sneaks out, and sees so many wonderful fascinating things, but her strange appearance, and the social awkwardness that she shares with her creator, lead to some extremely unfortunate (but always non-lethal) incidents that whip the villagers up into an angry mob, a mob which Victoria could have done something about sooner than she does because she figures that such a frightening experience might motivate Eve to simply stay home. However, eventually Victoria sees that she’s gone way too far with her desire to hold onto Eve, and she stands up and saves Eve from the mob, but in the process Eve learns how long Victoria deliberately held off on doing so, which shakes her to her core. The movie ends melancholically, with Victoria reluctantly accepting Eve’s decision to go away both so that she can discover the world and herself and so that Victoria can try to grow and make friends on her own, but with the slight possibility that Eve might come back someday.

The Phantom of the Opera: Erika le’Phantome is an incredibly talented singer, whose career has been utterly prevented by her facial deformity, causing her artistic soul to calcify into cynicism, the Diva Who Never Was. Such a person has no qualms about extorting money and perpetual box access from the owners of an opera house in exchange for...pointed advice. But everything changes when she hears Christine Daae, a young aspiring Ballerina, singing idly to herself during her off-time. For the first time in her life, Erika hears a voice with the potential to match her own. She immediately takes this girl under her wing, tutors her voice into the perfection that it was always waiting to find, engineers a meteoric rise to stardom. But even as she does all this, builds success for this slip of a girl with her own two hands, the canker of bitterness and envy grows stronger in her heart. I can do all of that, she thinks. I could do all of that before she was even born. All of this should belong to me, and it’s only this accursed face which keeps me from it. I’m honestly not sure how this one ends; I just know that this mounting tension has to come to a head somehow-or-other. If we decide to resolve this in a happy ending, though, the final scene is definitely them dueting.

#barbie movies

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delightfully-deranged-dagur · 3 years

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Okay, I'm just gonna write out my main ideas for my Reimagined Monster High. Here we go.

-it takes place in a world where monsters are outnumbered and shunned by humans, so monsters are forced to basically live in secret. Away from humans, in their own secret communities.

-The school itself was founded by Nora Bloodgood. Monster High was the first school of its kind to accept all kinds of monsters and has been running for hundreds of years. Also, it's a boarding school.

-The story will be mostly character driven with the main players being,

-Toralei Stripe. A werecat.

An orphan adopted by Headmistress Bloodgood. Toralei made friends with twin sisters Meowlody and Purrsephone Moon. Unfortunately, the 3 of them became the biggest bullies in the school. Though the twins were much more worse then Toralei. The twins were send to juvy after "the freezer incident".

"The freezer incident", Without Toralei's knowledge, the twins played their most dangerous prank of all. They locked Deuce Gorgon, a cold blooded monster into the school freezer, resulting in him almost freezing to death.

After that, Toralei took a long, hard look in the mirror and decided to change. Trying to redeem herself. So far most students are still untrusting of her. But 2 of them have forgiven her and became her friends, those 2 being...

-Clawdeen Wolf and Draculaura. A werewolf and vampire couple.

Clawdeen is a fashion designer with quite a following. Monsters love her designs and she's gotten quite a lot of commissions.

She always speaks her mind and has an extreme dislike for lies and liars. She's also fiercely loyal and protective of her friends and family, especially her younger siblings, Clawd and Howleen.

Draculaura is vegetarian vampire, no meat or blood for her. Unfortunately, due to her diet she's also extremely vulnerable to direct sunlight and always carries a parasol or umbrella with her.

Draculaura is one of, if not the most kind person in the school. And yet, there's some hints she's got a dark past. She's 1599 years old, so of course she has some secrets she doesn't want anyone to know about.

-Frankie Stein. One of the 3 new students at the beginning of the story.

Frankie is only a month old and still doesn't quite understand how the world works. She only knows stuff from outdated teen girl magazines. So, yeah. She knows nothing.

Frankie is assigned as Toralei's new roommate. Which means Toralei is half the time busy with making sure Frankie doesn't piss off the entire student body with her antics. Luckily she's helped by Clawdeen and Draculaura.

The 3 of them become Frankie's guides to life. With varying degrees of success.

-Gil Webber. The 2nd of 3 new students at school.

Gil was raised by highly abusive and bigoted parents. Constantly talking about how dangerous and despicable other monsters are. They sheltered Gil never letting him outside or go to the surface. Gil grew up terrified of the world.

Eventually, word got out about Gil's situation and the authorities got involved. Gil's parents were arrested and Gil was taken to Monster High and put in the care of Nora Bloodgood.

Gil is assigned as the new roommate of...

-Deuce Gorgon. Half gorgon, half human.

Deuce has lived for thousands of years since ancient Greece. Son of medusa and inherited her stone gaze. If he looks someone in the eye, they turn to stone. Luckily, since Deuce is half human the gaze is only temporary. And it doesn't work on monsters made out of stone or the undead. Like ghosts, zombies and mummies.

Deuce is a nervous wreck. Freezer trauma notwithstanding, he's constantly worried about dropping his sunglasses and turning someone to stone. He's also insecure about his skills as a chef and artist. He tries to look cool and laid back but he's not fooling anyone.

The snakes on his head are named, Jefferson, Addison, Carson, Maddison and Ed. He treats them as younger siblings even though they're all the same age.

Deuce has some trouble helping Gil not being afraid of everything. So he finds help from other water monsters. Sirena Von Boo? Too ditzy. Finnegan Wake? Comes on too strong. So his only choice is...

-Lagoona Blue. Half Sea monster, Half Water nymph.

Lagoona is bubbly, kind, carefree and very much a Himbo. She's genderfluid so they go by any pronouns he feels like at the moment.

They have 2 passions. Sports. And helping people out. And Gil is just the person that desperately needs Lagoona's help.

-Cleo De Nile. A mummy.

A princess who disowned her family because of how horrible they were. Cleo's lived long enough to know that being bad doesn't get you anywhere.

She's kind, understanding, and extremely generous. She's a natural born leader who takes charge when needed.

-Billy Where. An invisible man.

Billy, or "Invisi-Billy" as some call him is a theater kid at heart. Aside from that Billy also loves discovering the unknown and mysterious.

While his father is invisible all the time, Billy can control his visibility at will. He can even make other objects or people he's touching invisible.

Billy was assigned a new dorm room by Headmistress Bloodgood. A room down in the catacombs. He was put there cuz Bloodgood believes he can help the student living down there with his problems. That student being...

-Johnny Spirit. An unchained ghost.

Johnny died during the late 50s and he's got the greaser look down pat.

Johnny refuses to leave the catacombs and interact with other students, he does not wanna get involved or get attached to anyone. So he does not like having a roommate forced upon him.

And yet, as time goes on Johnny starts caring for Billy and thinking of him as a friend. Eventually trusting him enough to tell him the reason why he shut himself off. The story of how he died.

But that's a story for another time. ;P

Other important characters include,

Abbey Bominable. 3rd new student. She's blunt and likes photography. She has no roommate but gets taken in by,

Clawd Wolf and Heath Burns. Boyfriends that guide Abbey through the school and drag her into their shenanigans and schemes.

Ghoulia Yelps. Cleo's best friend and assistant. Genius.

Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde. Mad scientist and laid back DJ sharing a body.

Neightan Rot. Gay zombicorn. Can go from dishevelled hobo to fabulous drag queen in 10 seconds.

Spectra Vondergeist. Ghost "reporter" that runs the ghostly gossip.

And many more students.

So that's my basic idea. What do you think?

Feel free to leave questions about other students and their roles and what kind of plans I have for this au.

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impalementation · 3 years

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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 1

I said a long ways back that I thought the switch from Angel to Spike as Buffy’s primary love interest represented an interesting evolution in the show’s attitude towards—and interrogation of—romanticism, and I finally felt like expanding on what I meant by that. This is very long, very meandering, and not terribly academic or well-edited, but I hope there’s something of interest in it nonetheless. It is about 20,000 words in total, and will discuss, in more or less chronological order, the arc of the show’s attitude towards romanticism as it is embodied in Spike, Angel, Buffy and Buffy’s relationships with both of them. I was going to release it as one long post, but because it’s so long, I figured a series of posts might be more readable. Here’s the first one.

“When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

Both Spike and Angel are at once capital-R Romantic figures, and lower-case romantic interests, and in both cases that Romantic/romantic duality is what makes them such effective avatars for ideas around romanticism. In the case of Angel, the show is aware from the beginning that he is very much a Romantic idea of something. In “Welcome to the Hellmouth” Buffy describes him as “dark” and “gorgeous”, evoking the “tall, dark and handsome” cliche. He’s mysterious. He gives her a necklace and his coat, gestures out of high school romance fiction.* In “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Giles lampshades the romance of him: “A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way.” Initially, Angel is basically designed to be a teenage girl fantasy, and it’s no coincidence that his successors like Edward Cullen or Stefan Salvatore conform to similar tropes.

*(Think of how five seasons later, a vampire will give Dawn his letterman jacket in “All the Way”. It’s hard not to read as a deliberate echo of Angel’s gift in season one. Once again, a vampire makes romantic gestures towards a high school version of “Buffy”, and later turns on her. But more on this much later in the series.)

The difference between Angel and those other, more typical Supernatural Romance love interests however, is that the show ultimately attempts to subvert the romance of him. As part of its commentary on Gothic themes, season two makes Angel more Romantic than ever (the Claddagh, the tormented past), and makes the romance between him and Buffy central to the story in a way it wasn’t in season one. And then, of course, the season tears it all apart. The first time we learn what Angel did to Drusilla it’s horrifying, but still somehow abstract. Something that seems more like it’s meant to contribute to Angel’s dangerous, Byronic image. As in, something to make him more Romantic. And then suddenly it becomes real. Suddenly, it’s something that Angel could do to Buffy, or the people Buffy cares about. It turns out that his darkly romantic aura was not just an aura, but genuinely dark all along.

In turn, Angel’s devastating transformation is a metaphor for broader disillusionment about romantic ideas. It’s less to me about a “guy going bad after sex”, and more about what it means and feels like to have the scales fall from one’s eyes in that sort of situation. As Buffy copes with the fallout of Angel’s transformation, and later is forced to kill him, I see it as being about the tragedy of having to see the world in ways that are less simple, easy, or pretty as one gets older. As Buffy and Giles say in “Lie To Me”:

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get.

GILES: I believe that's called growing up.

For more on this, I recommend this livejournal post on “Lie To Me”, which goes into great depth on the way season two frames stories as pretty lies that one needs to look beneath, and how Buffy’s romanticization of Angel symbolizes that.

The whole arc of the season is Buffy’s failure to see the danger presented by Angel. In this opening scene that danger is foreshadowed. More to the point for this essay, Angel goes on to lie to Buffy about having encountered Drusilla. He doesn’t want Buffy to know about the nature of Angelus – which means that his first inclination is to mask the danger he presents to Buffy. This is one episode after Halloween, where Buffy’s romantic fantasies about what Angel wants (a damsel) nearly get her killed. Nor is she completely over those fantasies, as she notes that the mystery woman talking to Angel had a pretty old-fashioned dress. So against the backdrop of Buffy’s fantasies about her dark and mysterious boyfriend we have the truth about what he is, which is quite horrifying.

Season three then takes this to another level, by not just pointing out the darkness of the romance of Angel, but in fact puncturing his romantic image. Instead of emphasizing his dangerousness, as season two did, season three emphasizes his adulthood. It emphasizes the way that Angel is someone Buffy sees in secret, or away from her friends. He’s not integrated with her teenage, high school life, and doesn’t fit with the peppy, high school movie aesthetic that characterizes a lot of season three. By doing this, the writing indicates that at this point in their lives, Buffy and Angel are ultimately incompatible and holding each other back. Regardless of however much they might care for each other, Angel can’t fully appreciate her teenage longings like dances, and college, and having a boyfriend. And Buffy can’t fully appreciate his adult need to find himself on his own terms. By the end of season three, Angel is less of a shadowy, tragic figure, and more just an adult man who needs to finally grow up a bit.

Season three also starts making jokes where the punchline is that Angel isn’t living up to the romantic aesthetic he embodied in seasons one and two. In “Helpless”, for example, he and Buffy have an exchange where he waxes sincerely about wanting to “keep [her heart] safe, to warm it with [his own]” and although Buffy says the sentiment is beautiful, a second later she deadpans: “Or taken literally, incredibly gross.” To which Angel replies, “I was just thinking that, too.” Or in “Graduation Day, Part 1”, Angel trips on a doorway instead of making a silent entrance and Buffy again deadpans: “Stealthy.” Angel’s romance slips at moments when Buffy herself is feeling weak, either because she has lost her Slayer powers, or she’s investigating the scene of her sister Slayer’s crime. Her Romantic Slayer half is betraying her, and her romantic girlish half is feeling insecure. This is echoed by the reminder that Angel is no longer a straightforward fantasy man--or a terrifying, larger-than-life villain--but a guy who is sometimes both verbally and physically inelegant.

(Notice how one of the few times season two makes similar jokes about Angel it’s in “Lie to Me”, the very same episode that begins to peel off the layers of deceptions and unknowns about him. Angel slumps around Willow’s bedroom and jokes about “honing [his] brooding skills”, he insists that the vampire wannabes know nothing about vampires right before a guy walks by wearing his exact outfit, and Xander runs color commentary, saying “you’re not wrong” after each of Ford’s observations. In “Lie to Me” one of Angel’s hidden faces is his dangerousness, yes. But another hidden face is simply his human awkwardness.)

There’s an interesting Slayage piece by Elizabeth Gilliland that discusses the idea of Angel as a Gothic double for Buffy, specifically connecting him to the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It argues that Angel’s split identities represent Buffy’s fears that her human and Slayer halves are irreconcilable, and she cannot fully control either half. In season three, the fact that Buffy and Angel must continuously resist a loss of control with each other, and are treated as romantically incompatible, reflects this fear.

In Season Three, replete with various factors in Buffy’s life that threaten to put her role as Slayer and girl into imbalance once more [...] Angel once again returns [...]. The season culminates in an attempted attack on Buffy’s classmates during graduation, which essentially forces her to “out” herself to her community and combine her roles as Slayer and daughter, classmate, and friend for the first time publicly (“Graduation Day: Part 2” 3.22). The worst has happened: her secret has been revealed, the entire school knows about both of her personas, and she has not only survived, but emerged with a stronger sense of self [...] Buffy has conquered her first Gothic fear, and proven to herself that she can not only exercise control over both dualities of her persona, but allow them to peacefully co-exist. Thus, Angel’s continuing struggle with Angelus can no longer act as her shadow, and he literally and metaphorically leaves her to continue the rest of her journey.

It’s an interpretation I mostly agree with, and see a lot of evidence for. But in keeping with the focus of this series, I think you could also read Angel as embodying a duality between the romantic and the unromantic. In this view, Buffy’s struggle between her human and her Slayer halves is not just a struggle between personas, but a struggle to see the world correctly. In season one, it’s not Angel that revives Buffy in “Prophecy Girl”, because Angel is a vampire trope just like the Master. He cannot help her, because he is exactly the kind of traditional romantic concept--like a candle-lit cavern, an ancient Nosferatu-looking vampire, or a Chosen Hero duty--that Buffy is trying to escape. In season two, loss of control is specifically associated with passion, romance, and romanticism. Buffy’s human half longs for the romantic, but her Slayer half, and Angel’s vampire half, prove that sometimes the romantic is something dangerous and violent. The fact that Buffy’s Slayer identity and Angel’s Angelus identity both end up being outed by the end of the season (especially to Joyce, a figure of Buffy’s human home life), echoes Buffy’s loss of innocence. Season three then continues this suspicion of passion. Buffy fears that like Faith, enjoying the violence and power and desire of being a Slayer, means that she will go down a dark path. She also fears that indulging in her sexual and romantic desire for Angel will unleash Angelus. To some extent, these fears are even borne out, given that her love for Angel results in her attempted murder of Faith, and near death at Angel’s hands. But to some extent they also aren’t, given that she, Faith and Angel all live.

To me, what really gets resolved at the end of season three is not quite the issue of Buffy’s human and Slayer halves, given that Buffy will continue to struggle with that duality until the end of the show. Rather, what gets resolved is the need for binaries. Binaries are romantic things. When Giles gives his speech to Buffy at the end of “Lie To Me”, it is the language of binaries that he uses:

GILES: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

BUFFY: Liar.

In season three, Buffy thinks she must resist both Faith and Angel. She thinks she can only be either a human girl or a Slayer leader. Many plots in season three have to do with the danger of binaries, whether that’s the witch-hunting parents in “Gingerbread”, Willow dealing with her vampire self in “Doppelgangland”, the various alter-egos in “Beauty and the Beasts”, or Cordy choosing a Buffy-less world in “The Wish”. And no character in the Buffyverse embodies the concept of binaries so starkly as Angel does. Thus by the end of season three, Buffy collapses the binaries within herself by merging the human and Slayer parts of her life, as Gilliland observes, and taking on Faith’s traits. She acknowledges her shadow by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and bids farewell to the illusions and binaries that Angel embodies. Buffy is leaving that part of her life behind, and starting a new chapter where she can no longer split either the world, or herself, into any one thing or another.

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

#romanticism series #buffy #angel #s1 #s2 #s3 #s6 #gen #spike #btvs

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meili-sheep · 2 years

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Got an au for an au, LEZGO--

Bully the Fatui Supernatural Au, supernatural in the fact that they are sUPERNATURAL BEING AND MONSTERS NOT THE SHOW NOT THE SHOW--

Id imagine that diluc would be a vampire-- i am a simp for vampire diluc and also i just think itd be fUNNY-- its like that one tumblr post where its like, the guy turns into a vampire but doesnt realize theyre a vampire because theyre already living like one AHAHA-- is usually always seen outside at night? Pale as fucc? Really specific in their drink choices? Ridiculously strong? Adelinde being sus with the cannibal bit? Its pERFECT-- NOONE EVER SUSPECTS BECAUSE HES JUST LIKE THAT NOW--

Yelan id imagine could have a Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde situation. Since its not a split personality, more of shapeshifting in a bottle. Id turn her into a legit shapeshifter but i think its cooler if shes just That Smart to create potions that can let her turn into anyone. It ties into her lore as well, since shes always in different personas and disguises and things. Also i dont want to turn her into a whopperflower, the three of them would be RELENTLESS with the plant jokes. Would turn her into some kind of chinese mythological being as well but dAMMIT THE IDEA CAME WHILE I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF MAKING NOODLES AND I CANT DO RESEARCH WHILE WATCHING THE POT--

Ayato would DEFINITELY be some kind of yokai. Im thinking some sort of fox yokai since a lot of them have a lot of connections to festivals and the like. Or maybe something much older, much more ancient than the two of them combined. Explains his encyclopedic knowledge of Inazuma since he was LITERALLY THERE when it happened. Also oooooo potential connections with Yae???

Vampire Diluc is honestly just correct. Though I personal prefer a dhampir Diluc. I maybe it's because he gives me Alucard vibes. So ya know he's half vampire in my book. But In this context i can just imagine his years away just opened up his hungry more and he's very very ashamed of it. But Adelinde would 100% become a ghoul for him and take care all of his needs for him.

So I have a lot of thoughts regarding Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Primarily because in the book, Hyde still was Jekyll. Just the part of himself Jekyll could never afford to express. And then he really just became addicted. I once heard Mr. Hyde described as Jekyll's reward. And I think that's a good way of putting it. BUT at the same time. With my love of the persona games and yu gi oh. You can see how I still like the other side of the coin with Hyde splitting off into his own person. AH, but enough of my English major stuff. From what I know of Chinese mythology, I believe there is a fox spirit that shapeshifts, and I feel that's pretty fitting for her. Foxes being known for being so cunning.

As for Ayato, I know there are quite a few spirits associated with water and rain in Japan, and I can see him being some kind of sea monster of Merman.

#Bully the Fatui Brigade #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #kamisato ayato #ayato #yelan #yelan genshin impact #Supernatural!Bully Brigade

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quilna · 3 years

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Hey, anyone want to see me pull out one of my really old aus again? It’s my creator-creation swap au again. Honestly, this was my favourite out of my own aus, I just never know what to do with it.

For a recap of the au, Hyde is the original scientist, Jekyll is the “purely good alter ego” but in the same awkward, trying-too-hard way that original Hyde is the evil alter ego in canon. Frankenstein and Creature also trade places.

Firstly, when I first created this au I gave Jekyll the green colour scheme and Hyde the red one. I’ve changed that. The idea of Hyde in red clothes having a green eyed moment where he breaks down crying was just too strange to me on so many levels. Instead, to differentiate these versions of Jekyll and Hyde from the originals, I’ve given them both bandages on their arms.

Hyde gets into a lot of scrapes and Jekyll has his own share of injuries.

Anyway, new au details:

- Jekyll is incredibly squeamish of blood and injuries. He starts shaking pretty violently whenever he sees blood and he absolutely hates it. It’s horrible conduct to shake when someone is trying to speak to you. Not gentlemanly in the least. As such, he tends to apologize a lot when he’s doing it.

- The lodgers don’t realize at first that Jekyll is willing to hurt himself to follow orders.

At first, it’s like a game of truth or dare, trying to find out what questions he’s willing to answer, what sort of commands he’s willing to do, what the funniest thing they can make him do is. (Well he wasn’t willing to slap or kiss anyone and he refuses to tell anyone about his past so he clearly has limits.)

Jekyll, always happy to please, seems to be having a good time. Besides, he’s still rather mischevous at heart so a game of truth or dare, although he tries to view it internally as just a set of commands to follow (This isn’t supposed to be fun. Proper gentlemen don’t do fun), is actually a blast for him. Everyone is having too much fun with the game to realize that it’s going too far until it’s too late. It’s not until someone gives a poorly thought through command, not expecting him to actually follow it, that Jekyll gets hurt and the truth of the situation dawns of them. (Not sure what the command would be. Maybe they ask him to touch a hot coal or juggle knives. Or maybe he sticks around after they’re done for far too long. Someone gets annoyed and badly phrases their “go away” like how some people use phrases like “go to hell” but Jekyll mistakes it for a serious command.)

- From that point on, the lodgers are a lot more careful with commands and even try to be more sensitive to Jekyll. However, Jekyll absolutely hates being fussed over and tends to sort of avoid anyone who worries over his health too much.

- Although the lodgers are pretty careful, there are a lot of people out there more than willing to take advantage of Jekyll and he frequently comes back with cuts and bruises.

- The lodgers are convinced that Edward Hyde has an alter ego that he uses to go out, get into fights, and get drunk at nights based on the fact that he keeps disappearing at nights and coming back with bruises and cuts. (Not some magical science alter ego, just a fake name and maybe a wig.)

- These stories have gone around and gotten exaggerated so much like a game of telephone that a bunch of the lodgers are genuinely convinced that Hyde goes to fight clubs at night under the stage name of The Spirit of London at Night. Hyde is absolutely bewildered as to why people keep calling him that and then winking.

- When Jekyll is prevented from going out, instead of using the nightmares to torment Hyde and achieve his freedom, he turns to the mind... People..? Mind Frankenstein stays as a neutral party, just wanting to continue studying the inside of Hyde’s mind but Mind Lanyon is still completely for getting rid of Hyde or at least just being really rude to him. It’s difficult for Hyde to differentiate the horrible things he’s been told by Mind Lanyon (and probably the other mind people too but none of them have been revealed in canon so I don’t know what they would be like.) from the real Lanyon.

- It’s a lot more concerning when Jekyll vanishes after the fire considering the kind of person he is. It may make sense for Hyde to do his best to run from the police but Jekyll in this au isn’t the type in the least. Especially vanishing so thoroughly. Rachel knows something is up but Lanyon is pretty flippant, believing that maybe someone just asked him to stay put. But Rachel asked every one of the lodgers and none of them have seen him since or given him any sort of command to hide himself. Even then, she’s pretty confident that he wouldn’t be able to sit still knowing that most of the police force is out looking for him and, by evading capture, he’s just wasting all of their time and effort which could be spent looking for other criminals.

- When Jekyll does show up again, Rachel manages to catch him before he turns himself in and beg him not to. Jekyll is torn between following the law and not wanting to upset Rachel and its clear that, although she’s gotten him to stay still for now, he’ll probably go straight back to the police the moment her back is turned. Unsure where else to take him, she takes him to Lucy, hoping to show him that breaking the law doesn’t necessarily make him a bad person and that the world isn’t as black and white as he thinks it is.

- Jekyll meeting Lucy doesn’t go particularly well. Staying in control too long makes him pretty jittery and Hyde is a huge Lucy fanboy (again) which makes Jekyll, in a weird, guilty way, very excited to see her. Except she’s a wanted criminal! And Hyde in all his rotteness likes her! So, to Dr Jekyll, that must make her a bad person too. Except... Upon meeting her and having the situation explained she’s... Not as bad as everyone made her out to be..? But that doesn’t make sense to Jekyll because... because it just isn’t right! Then, there’s the fact that he’s supposed to be in prison for his crimes at that moment but Rachel is practically begging him not to and he can’t upset his friends! And she’s asking so many questions he can’t answer about where he’s been hiding, what’s been stopping him from going out all this time, but if she ever found out the truth, she would surely hate him! Just like how the mind versions of his friends hate him for what he is.

Finally, overwhelmed, Jekyll can’t take it anymore. With no regards for how rude it is to just sprint out the door without even a goodbye, he runs for it. Although Rachel tries to follow him, Jekyll has a head start and all of Hyde’s street smarts. Even in such a state Jekyll easily manages to slip away in the sewers and disappear.

Rachel doesn’t know what happens to him after that. He seems to have just vanished into thin air yet again and she doesn’t know where he went or what he decided to do in the end. She didn’t even find out where he had been all that time. All she can do is hope.

- Jekyll may or may not be very rude to Lucy in his fluster and panic. Luckily, unlike canon, the stories Lucy has heard of him don’t paint him as a jerk. Understanding that this isn’t normal for him and recognizing that he’s lashing out, she’s a lot more sympathetic despite how nasty he gets to her and her spouses, trying to soothe him as best as she can. Rachel has never seen such behaviour from Jekyll before and is horrified to see him acting in such a way.

#the glass scientists #tgs au #blood #creator-creation swap au

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scullydubois · 3 years

Note

What about a time when mulder meets up with scully to go for a walk with queequeg?

i may have gone overboard here, but how could i not? this prompt is so precious, thank you.

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

Friday Night with Queequeg, 2.4k--set in season three

“I can’t, Mulder,” his partner insists, her voice dialed up a few intervals for dramatic effect. “I’ve got Queequeg to worry about.”

Mulder drops his Washington Nationals tickets on the desk in disappointment. How lame to be overshadowed by a dog. “That fluffy little guy?” he whines. “Or girl, I'm not sure.”

“He’s a boy.”

“Okay well, he reminds me of one of those Tamagotchi things, have you seen the commercial?” Mulder rambles while shuffling various stray papers from his desk into a single incoherent stack. He’s careful not to sweep the tickets into it. “It’s a pocket pet--”

“I know what it is, Mulder. I have a godson.”

“And is Queequeg not just a glorified version of one of those?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. He needs food and attention and care. But, in case you didn’t know, he is also real and capable of giving much of that back to you.”

“Eh, reciprocated affection is overrated,” Mulder jokes, though life would be a lot damn easier if he believed that. “And it’s one of the few Fridays where we’re not traveling or jet-lagged or wholly tired of each other.”

Scully purses her lips. “I see significantly less of Queequeg per week than I do you,” she mutters, and Mulder wonders whether some of her feigned contempt might be genuine. He’s used to being subtly disliked, but the thought sure makes him sad.

Seeing the passion in his face dissolve, Scully realizes that he’s backing down. It’s not like him to back down, no matter how frivolous the issue is. She knows this about him if she knows anything. It’s as if he’s giving up, and that strikes her more than anything.

“Haven’t you ever had a dog, Mulder?” she asks, ignoring the chair in front of her to perch on the edge of his desk.

“Once. After Samantha.” He laughs out of pure scorn. “I think it was my parents’ way of trying to replace her.”

Scully frowns. She should know by now that any journey into his past will turn into a probe of his eternal wound, and that’s no fault of his own.

“What was its name? And were you fond of it?” Scully feels like a therapist--hopefully a kind and supportive one.

“Sparky. I’ve got no clue where the name came from, or the dog for that matter. He was just kinda there one day when I got home from school. And then in a few months, he was gone in the same way. Taken to my uncle’s cause my parents couldn’t stand all the upkeep.”

A thought pops into Scully’s head that is evidently shared by her partner. “No, he didn’t “go live on a farm’ or whatever, I was old enough not to fall for that,” Mulder insists. “He really did go live with my uncle. Lived like seven more years.”

Scully raises an eyebrow. “But did you like him? Were you sad when he was gone?”

“I was sad about a lot of things at the time, Scully.” He opens his desk drawer and pops a piece of gum in his mouth. He’s out of sunflower seeds. “But about the dog? Eh, he was fine to have around but it wasn’t a quintessential boy and his dog moment. He was already a couple years old and well into his grumpy old man phase, if I remember correctly. And he was a mutt, so I think my parents hated him because he didn’t match the furniture.”

“Mmm.” Scully rolls her tongue over the roof of her mouth. It would be a shame to put Mulder through this whole conversation only to insist that she can’t attend the game. But she wasn’t just making excuses. Queeqeug has been home alone all day. and she always takes him for a walk when she gets home from work. He’s used to their routine now, sitting there at the door when she unlocks it like he’s got an alarm set. He gets his dinner when they get back home and falls soundly asleep. Scully’s convinced this is the only thing keeping him from rebelling for being on his own for ten hours a day, and she doesn’t want to test that theory.

Mulder glances at the office clock. 5:46. First pitch is at 7:05.

“How about this...” He props his feet up on the desk to give himself the air of confidence that he’s lacking. “I’ll run over to your place, walk him, make sure he does his business...the whole shebang. You can finish up here then take a taxi to the park, and I’ll meet you there. Sound good?”

The edges of Scully’s lips turn downward. Mulder notes that today, they are brushed over with a very nice coral. Must be a new shade.

“Do you really care that much about me attending this game?”

Mulder shrugs. Yes he does, but he’ll be nonchalant about it. “I bought the tickets cheap through a newspaper ad. I just thought it would be nice for the two of us to do something that’s not chasing phantoms.”

“Phantoms?” Scully’s left eyebrow arches. “Have I finally broken your spirit?”

Mulder smirks. “Sorry, I thought flattery might get me somewhere here.”

Scully taps a heel against the ugly linoleum floor. He’s so adamant about this...boyhood loves stick, she supposes.

“If it means that much to you, go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when you’re late for the start of the game. Queequeg takes his time.”

Mulder claps his hands together. “That’s fine, that’s fine!” Surely he can hurry the canine up. “You take one ticket and head to the seats, and I’ll find you.”

Scully pulls her lips into a thin line, a hint of humor gleaming in her eyes. “Okay, Mulder. Do you have your key?”

He nods, pulls on his jacket, and edges toward the door. “See you there, Scully!”

“Bye.” Scully smiles at the empty office. Her partner’s enthusiasm is endlessly endearing.

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

Mulder has no time to register that he has no clue where Queequeg’s leash is, or if he’s supposed to bring some sort of bag to pick up any...ehm, droppings, or if there’s some special trick to walking a dog that makes it look easy when it’s secretly hard. In fact, he can’t recall ever walking Sparky. Thirty years old and never walked a dog before...surely that qualifies him for the Guinness World Record books.

Queequeg is alert at the door when Mulder opens it, and he’s glad the thing is more teddy bear than canine--he doesn’t have to deal with any barking or biting. He checks the coat rack for a leash, then begins rummaging around in the front table when he comes up short. It’s all old issues of girly magazines he never would have expected Scully to subscribe to.

Begrudgingly, he looks into Queequeg’s beady eyes. “Where’s your leash, boy? You wanna go for a walk? Show me where your leash is.” He uses a baby voice he didn’t even know he had.

Queequeg does nothing but paw the ground in annoyance.

“I know the feeling,” Mulder quips. He pulls out his phone and chooses Scully’s name from the speed dial list.

It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. Mulder ends the call, grumbles, then tries the office number instead. She picks up after one ring.

“Hello?” her dainty voice projects through the line.

“Scully, you haven’t left yet?”

“I was just locking up the desk. Is there a problem?” she asks like she knew there would be.

“I can’t find Queequeg’s leash.”

“It’s by the pantry, next to his treats.”

Mulder sighs, heads into the kitchen. “And I suppose I have to take his treats too?”

“Uh-huh. And there’s plastic grocery bags in there that you can use to clean up after him.”

Mulder opens the pantry, sees the hoard. “I feared so.”

“We always go left down the block,” Scully tells her partner. “There’s a patch of grass that way he likes to chew on.”

“And how much does he pay you for such indelible service?” Scully doesn’t listen to a word he says, but she’s at the dog’s beck and call apparently.

There’s a bit of silence as Scully decides not to reply with a smartass remark. Then--”I’m leaving the office now,” she murmurs into the phone. “Better hurry up or I’ll beat you there.”

During this teasing, Mulder attached Queequeg’s leash to his collar. Now, as he tries to lead him into the living room, the dog refuses to move.

“Uh, Scully?”

“Yes?”

“I put his leash on, but Queequeg won’t budge.”

“Do you have the treats?”

Mulder shakes the treat bag and makes kissy noises to encourage the canine. (How humiliating.) Still, nothing.

“He doesn’t want to come with me,” Mulder says. “Even the treats won’t lure him over.”

“Are you sure it’s the right treats?” Scully asks.

“Since when are dogs picky about their treats? Treats are treats. And these are the only ones in the pantry.”

“Huh.”

“If you’re rolling your eyes, I can’t see it,” Mulder mutters.

“I’m not rolling my eyes, I just--we’ve never had this problem.”

“Has anyone else walked him?” Mulder wiggles the leash, which does nothing.

“My mom.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t like men,” Mulder remarks.

“He lived with Clyde Bruckman…”

“Exactly.”

Scully takes a quick exhale. He has a point. “I’ll head over, okay? But I doubt we’ll make the game.”

“We’ll see.” Mulder sighs. He’s being...well, cockblocked isn’t the right word for it--but something like that--by a dog.

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

Scully arrives half an hour later to find Mulder crouched on the kitchen floor rubbing Queequeg’s belly.

“Am I interrupting something?” she teases. The dog rolls over and leaps into excitement at the sound of her voice, abandoning Mulder altogether.

“Hi buddy.” She scratches his ears and dodges his attempts to lick her face. “You ready to go for a walk?”

Queequeg whimpers and sits as if she commanded him to.

Scully looks to Mulder with a brilliant, taunting smile. “I think he’s ready.”

Mulder stands up, every disk in his back rebelling against him. “That thing--” Mulder jabs a finger in Queequeg’s direction--”has a Jekyll and Hyde situation going on.”

“Really, cause you seemed to be having a great time until I came in.”

“No, no, no, don’t spin this. I had to get down on the kitchen floor because he wouldn’t move! What was I supposed to do while we were waiting for you, ignore him?”

Scully shrugs, tries to hide her smirk. “Well, if you were so bothered by him…”

“Whatever, whatever. Let’s just go for the walk, okay? I don’t want to miss this game, it’s against the Red Sox. It should be good.”

Scully takes Queequeg’s leash from her partner, gestures for him to go ahead. “After you.”

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

It’s a beautiful spring night--the perfect occasion for a baseball game, Scully will give Mulder that. The sun is drifting down the cloudless horizon, and the chill that has hung in the air for months is finally admitting defeat. The sidewalk is crowded with other dogs and their humans, eager to end the week on such a lovely note.

Queequeg trots blissfully in the usual direction. Scully lengthens her stride to keep up with him--for once she and Mulder are walking at the same pace.

“So this is DC on a Friday night, huh?” Mulder says, glancing around at their fellow pedestrians and bicyclists.

Scully nods. “If you got out of the office before seven, you’d know.”

“Doubtful. My usual impression of DC on a Friday night is the traffic on the 14th Street bridge, and I’m pretty sure I can witness that at all hours.”

Scully allows herself a sidelong glance at her partner. She had never realized someone could be too dedicated until she met Mulder.

“Have you ever considered getting a pet?” she asks tentatively.

His gaze snaps to her. He chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets. “My complex has a hefty monthly pet fee. Rent is already bad enough.”

“Well it’s not like you go out often…” Scully starts, knowing this is short of a compliment. “You’re not a big spender, surely you have the extra cash on hand.”

“Ha, thanks,” Mulder responds. “Should I put that on my resume?”

“I just mean that…” Queequeg finds his beloved patch of grass, and they pause to let him chomp at it. “...you could use the companionship of a dog. Or cat, if that strikes your fancy.”

“I have enough companionship, Scully. More than I know what to do with. Have you heard my answering machine?”

“A woman from an 800 line is not companionship, Mulder. And you never actually answer any of your messages. Friends don’t count if you never see them.”

“Ouch.” Queequeg finishes up, and they resume the walk. “And what are your plans this weekend, Scully?” he asks, hoping to catch her in her own hypocrisy.

“As a matter of fact, I’m going to visit my mother tomorrow afternoon.”

Mulder busts out laughing. “You’re a real party girl!”

She ignores him, focusing on Queequeg. “But you get my point, don’t you? It’s not good to be alone all the time.”

“I seem to recall being told that we spend more time together than you and your dog,” Mulder wisecracks.

“That’s different,” Scully swears. “That’s work.”

“That’s the bulk of modern life, my dear.” He delivers this statement in an old-timey mid-Atlantic accent like some leading man of the 40s. It makes Scully smile.

“I have an idea,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh boy.” Mulder glances at his watch. 6:51. Damn it. “We’re gonna miss the game.”

Scully nods. “Let’s go to the animal shelter instead.”

Mulder stops. It makes Queequeg, and therefore Scully, stop too. “What?”

“You could make some dog very happy, you know. And Queequeg would have a playmate...I think it would be really good for you, Mulder.”

“Come on, I can’t just adopt a dog on a whim.”

“I did.”

“Shit.”

Scully laughs. “You’re realizing there’s no way out of this, aren’t you?”

Mulder grins. “Yeah, I--” He looks down and sees Queequeg taking a dump in the middle of the sidewalk. Scully readies the plastic bag she brought, then bends down and scoops the pile up like it’s nothing.

Mulder screws up his face. “On second thought…”

“Nuh-uh.” Scully ties the bag and taps it against Mulder’s arm. “You’re empty-handed, take this. It’ll be good practice.”

Mulder frowns but takes the bag. His partner’s huge smile is not lost on him, and it makes him smile despite himself. She knows how to get what she wants, and he has a feeling this one will benefit him too.

#txf fic #txf prompt #the x-files #txf #mine

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morning-might-arrive · 4 years

Text

Here’s the continuation of my last post. Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged! This is becoming a lot longer than I thought, so there will be another part soon. Feedback is appreciated!

A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Wednesday

Jackson sighed as he silenced his blaring alarm clock. 7:00 am. As he walked to the bathroom to get ready, he was suddenly struck by a memory.

“It’s nothing personal, normie. You just look like such a freak.” Manny told him as he shoved him off of the lunch table. Jackson looked towards the other mansters, but they said nothing. So they all agreed. Even Clawd.

He cringed. He’d had to eat lunch in a bathroom stall that day. He looked at his reflection, desperately wishing he could change it. He sighed and got dressed. He had to leave early since he now had no car and his parents weren't home. He plugged his headphones into his phone. Holt had gotten them into this situation, only fitting that he deal with it.

Holt Hyde cursed under his breath as he walked to school. Although the weather was warming, mornings in March were still frigid. He sighed in relief as he approached Monster High.

“Heya there, sweetpea,” Operetta drawled in greeting as Holt waltzed through the front doors of the school.

“What’s good, Oppy?” Holt responded, his usual loud and energetic self even at the early hour.

“Just peachy keen like always, hun. Say, you seen the Ghostly Gossip lately?” She asked.

“Nah, we usually stay away from that garbage ever since that story about us and Frankie. Humiliated the poor ghoul and almost tanked our relationship. It really ain’t cool what they're doin’.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Oh. Okay. Well sugar, you know you can tell me anythang you wanna, right?” She continued.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Oppy.” That was kinda weird for the rough and tumble ghoul to say, but honestly Holt was just glad their botched attempt at dating didn’t mess up their friendship. Oppy was a cool ghoul.

“What’s the word, cool cats?” Came a new voice.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny.”

Johnny spirit sauntered casually down the main corridor of Monster High, and students jumped out of his way as if he had the plague. He put his arm around Operetta’s shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

Holt snorted. “I’ll never get why everyone lets you float around like you own the place.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess they don’t have a choice. Besides, I never see you doing anything about it,” he replied with a bit of challenge in his tone. Holt rolled his eyes.

“You know you don’t scare us, Spirit. Anyway, it seems like Oppy’s got you on a leash without our help.”

Johnny bristled at that “Y’know Hyde, I’m gettin’ real sick of-”

“Why don’t we scamper on down to the catacombs and finish that new song we been workin on, sugarpie?” Operetta cut in. She really didn’t want to deal with a fistfight this early.

The couple walked away and Holt made toward the auditorium. He found the symphony on stage setting up and dashed up to join them, plugging his guitar into its amp. Jennifire was nearby greasing the corks on her clarinet. He huffed and sat down next to her.

“Another run in with the phantom pianist?” She asked, not even looking up.

“That guy is such a jerk!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You boys are so easily provoked; I may never understand it. My brothers were just the same. He has done not to insight your anger.”

Holt really hated to admit it, but she was right. Johnny really didn't scare Holt, and he knew a little better than to try that tough guy act on Jackson. Plus, it was kinda funny seeing guys like Heath and Manny faint when he walked past them.

“Your emotions run like wildfire, I am very impressed you came to terms so easily with your end.” She continued.

Wait. What. “My what now?”

“Of course, it must be so hard for you to talk about. I am sorry.” A tear fell from her eye and promptly turned to smoke upon hitting her face.

“Jen, are you okay?” Holt asked, facing her.

She smiled. “Yes, I will be okay. So kind of you to think of me.”

“Okay, Okay, enough chit chat. Places people!” The director yelled as he approached the stage. Well. That was weird. Holt took his place in the stool beside the amp and looked up as the director began counting them off.

After an awkward hour of rehearsal, they were dismissed to second period. Holt emerged out into the crowd of students in the hall. Jennifire was nowhere to be found, so he made his way toward the art room. His Spotify playlist suddenly changed to a song by Pierce the Veil. He pulled out his phone to skip it and saw he had a message from Jackson. He scoffed. If D-low had told him what was wrong, would he be asking? JJ could be so oblivious. Maybe it was just a normie thing.

He took his usual seat in front of his canvas and continued his painting for this week.

“Psst, Holt.” he heard a whisper. He turned and met the shiny magenta eyes of retired popstar Catty Noir. “We’re turning up at Cleo’s place on Saturday, you in?”

“Yeah totally- oh, nevermind. We can’t make it, we kinda got a...thing that day.”

“Oh,” she said, looking kind of taken aback. “It’s that soon?”

“What was that?”

“ I said I’ll see you soon!” she hastily corrected herself as she got up and turned in her painting, promptly leaving the art room. Man, everyone's acting off today. He touched up his work and quickly followed suit.

He basically had the rest of the period to himself, so he decided to riff on his guitar for a little bit. He couldn’t do it in the building anymore ever since that one time Headmistress Bloodgood caught him, so he moved to the front steps and set his bag beside him.

“Hey Holt!”

Holt turned towards the front of the school. “Frankie Fine-Stein! Where have you been hiding?” Her skin glowed a light mint green and her eyes sparked in the sun. Just as bootiful as ever. She sat on the step beside him.

“I was actually just in the library. I found this book about the original Jekyll and Hyde. It was way harsh; It said that Edward Hyde trampled a child in the streets of London, is that true?”

“Nuh-uh! Those stuffy normie’s didn’t like that grandpa’s were different so they dragged their reputation through the dirt!” Holt declared passionately. “Some of the people they charged him with killing didn’t even exist in the first place! Then they made Dr. Jekyll out to be a complete basket case and threw them both in jail! That is until they got bailed out by our great-great-grandma, Lucy.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know any of that!” Frankie replied. She actually knew all about it, she had heard the exact same thing from Jackson before. They were both incredibly salty about the smear campaign launched against their great-great-grandparents that made their family flee to America in the first place, and you could hardly bring it up around them without a passionate rant. Frankie felt a little bad about bringing up something she knew was a sore subjet for them, but she had to make sure Spectra and the other ghouls didn’t get caught. It was for their own good, right?

Her phone buzzed in her lap and she glanced down. “Spectra got something, meet us back in the library.” Clawdeen. Frankie jumped up. “Sorry, Holt, I really gotta go.”

Holt watched her go in curiosity. He checked the time and quickly jumped up himself and dashed back inside the building. The only way to not be late now was to go through Section C, the so-called “vampires only” hallway. It really irked them when other monster’s used it, but he didn’t really care when it was either that or detention. As he made his way through he felt someone glaring at him, and met eyes with a large group of the former prep-school vampires. He braced himself, but instead of giving him grief like they usually did, they just let him pass. They were acting weird, but so was everyone else. Oh well, he didn’t really have time to think about it now.

Holt’s third period was Chemistry 2 with Mr. Hack. No thanks. Science was never his strong suit. Plus, there was seriously something off about this particular teacher. He just took a little too much pleasure in the cutting open of living things for Holt’s liking. He pulled out his phone.

“Keep an eye out. Today’s been weird, Bro.” He typed the message out and then disconnected his phone from his headphones. The world went dark.

Jackson blinked a few times. What was that ringing sound? “Oh, shOOT!” He bolted through the closest door- which just happened to be the right one- and took his seat as the bell finished ringing.

Mr. Hack passed out a hefty amount of worksheets to the class. “Okay class: no whispering, no talking, no looking around, no coughing or sneezing, no you can’t use the bathroom, and if I catch you on your cell phone the whole class gets detention. You have until the end of the class to complete the worksheets or it's a 0 for today.”

Everyone groaned. Good old Mr. Hack. Charming and likeable. Jackson tried to ignore the stares and whispers in his direction as he did his work. He knows he’s different, don’t they ever get tired of reminding him? Were they all paying more attention to him than usual, or was it just his imagination? He blazed through his work in about 20 minutes, it was just some simple thermodynamics equations. He looked up and noticed that Mr. Hack was asleep. Typical. Half the class were on their phones and the other half were talking amongst themselves. He pulled his phone out and saw Holt’s message.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination then, everyone was acting a little odd. Granted, every day at Monster High was pretty weird. Last week they had lost their school crest in a rollerblading contest and the school nearly toppled over, so maybe he could just ignore whatever this was.

The bell finally rang for lunch. He set his work on Mr. Hack’s desk as he jolted awake and practically ran from the room. He shot Clair a text

“Okay, transportation is set and decorations bought. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Measurements, goofy.” She responded almost instantly.

“Oh, right. I can get a tape measure from the woodshop teacher and get them during lunch.”

“Have you told the other monsters about Saturday?”

“No. I just don’t know how they’ll react, y’know?”

“Aren’t they always telling you about how you don’t belong? So why would they care?”

“Yeah you’re probably right. It’s just a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Let me know how it goes.”

Looking down at his phone, he didn’t notice Draculara until he bumped her as he passed.

“So sorry!” He exclaimed.

“It’s alright.” She reassured him as she walked away. She made her way to the library where her friends were already gathered around in a circle. Spectra floated in the center.

“What’s this all about?” Draculara asked.

“While Frankie had Holt distracted, Spectra looked in his locker.”

“Well what did she find?” Cleo demanded.

“Just this. It appears to be a receipt for some kind of car rental.”

Clawd glanced at his phone. “Heath says Jackson is in the boys locker room right now taking measurements of himself and writing them down.” He told the group.

“Then what Spectra said is true.” Fraknie finally admitted. The room fell into extended silence.

“Well we can at least show Jackson he means something to us.” Draculara spoke up.

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, “we can do something nice for him and Holt.”

“What are we going to do? Hijack the gym and throw a huge party during lunch?” Cleo asked sardonically.

“You’re on a roll Cleo! It’ll be closed tomorrow, but we can do it Friday!” Clawdeen agreed.

Cleo smiled. Very well then. Friday would be a day for the monster history books.

#jackson jekyll #holt hyde #frankie #draculara #clawdeen #spectra vondergeist #operetta #johnny spirit #monster high #mh

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sirescumbag · 3 years

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AA7 thoughts

So I just finished Spirit of Justice and then I heard about Ace Attorney 7 apparently in the works, so my brain decided this is the time to make up potential plot twists to be excited about that don’t actually exist. I know this is divergent from my usual fanart posting but here’s a very long text dump of some new stuff I’d be interested in seeing but will probably not happen because it is all very specific and caters to my own desires, probably not the fandom’s in general:

Phoenix is still there, but not as active as an acting defense attorney, though he’s still key to the plot (as a mentor, or to be used as emotional blackmail). He’s not playable (or if he is, it’s not for long), but more there as a plot point in a Maya sort of way (oh the turntables). This time, he’s the one under threat or danger. Instead of switching around from lawyer to lawyer, I think that Athena should undergo some more development as a main character this time around since Phoenix and Apollo have had their time to shine. The removal of Phoenix and being all alone, I think, would also be interesting in her character development

On that note, bring on the major character angst!! Having a big tragedy occur, with a fairly major character. Usually the tragedy pulled is a murder/death, but how about a different sort of tragedy-- a fate worse than death/on par with it to someone who is still alive? Someone is severely incapacitated, a psychological injury (classic old memory loss, or perhaps a genius who is reduced to a very limited mental capacity), coma, or even a temporary death (like with Petenshy, Edgeworth), or perhaps a kidnapping (not Maya this time, please). If it happens to a major character, it’ll have greater impact, BUT there’ll be fan riots if it’s not reversible. So have the tragedy with the character get resolved, but not in a deus ex machina way-- recovery is slow and angsty but filled with hope.

There’s often a focus on the past haunting you-- let’s try shifting this to the present! Building suspense on a case that is happening in real time-- I am fond of the idea of a serial killer on the loose in the present and the dread of suspense in present time throughout trials as they continue to kill and hinder key advances in solving the mystery.

Very often, there are personal ties in court-- both the prosecution and defense are tied together in some way in the past, resolving their own personal backstory. Instead of oneself, maybe let’s have some focus on a client instead? It might be interesting to see a lawyer get so deep into protecting a single client-- instead of a new client for every case, protecting a single person over multiple cases-- that they get roped into an outsider’s story instead. A little idea in my head is of playing around with maybe witness protection, or say (off the serial killer idea) someone is expected to be the next target for a murder and you are tasked with trying to protect them in real time (and then a tragedy happens to them that moves plot forward, bonus if players gets to build an emotional connection between you and the client).

In SOJ and DGS, the stakes were big on “saving the masses” and government reform-- the stakes can still be high, but instead of something lofty like reforming the world or community, instead it could focus on the relationships with the people immediately around you, protecting them, or just some good old self-preservation.

Newer characters like Athena being really fleshed out! Whether there are new or old characters, really build and explore the depth of their character beyond that of a plot point. Not just slapping on relationship labels that immediately trigger emotion but have no context beyond it (like the killing off “my best friend” Clay in DD, or the classic parental death). I thought the fleshing out of Dhurke and building an emotional relation to him in SOJ was a lot more effective in making it really feel like a tragedy than with Clay in DD.

For introducing any old characters, please show some personality changes due to age. Or, maybe! Even a 180 change from the personality from the original trilogy for intrigue-- what happened to the old person I knew (and have it be integral to the plot)? I know I griped about the old “ah That Event 5/7/10 years ago” past plot thing being used but I wouldn’t mind this being used as a part of plot development either

Maybe try to bridge the feeling of separation between the old trilogy and newer characters’ worlds by, instead of kind of sequestering them into their separate spheres of interaction to preserve nostalgia (like in Turnabout Time Traveler, where the old gang is all together in the same dynamic, Maya and Phoenix and Edgeworth, etc), have old trilogy characters interact with newer ones in significant ways and build their own unique bond. So, not just a passing mention where the old encounters the new, having the old interact with the new and build a bond through going through significant conflicts together (for example, this has already been mentioned but if Athena is the main focus of the next game, there could be an opportunity to explore this if she confronts Franziska in court!).

I know there’s already so many gimmicks added (Apollo’s perceive, Athena’s widget) but if there has to be something new added, instead of making it individual-specific, maybe have be similar to spirit channeling as a concept-- have it be a broad phenomenon in the world that plays a key part in causing a case, rather than a tool for discerning the truth of a case.

Or, if we’re sticking with the same gadgets/tricks, instead choosing to tamper more with the tools of the trade that were supposed to never lead you astray-- this has already been seen in DD, where Apollo’s bracelet led him to the wrong conclusion about Athena, and AA4, where evidence was tampered with. Perhaps instead of adding new gadgets, let’s manipulate, tamper with, lose, have it used against them in new ways!

The use of a civil case in SOJ was very much unexpected but in my opinion a very interesting one! Would be very interesting to see more in-fighting among the prosecutor group or within the defense attorney group and see how that moves the plot along. Messing more with the court system instead of adding new gadgets would also be interesting.

More threats during investigation, not just in court! Remember when von Karma tased you in the evidence room? Let’s have suspense in AND out of the courtroom.

I’m sure there’s plenty of interesting psychological phenomena that could be used to complicate court cases (for example, that use of Justice Minister Inga’s cognitive disorder in recognizing faces coming into play)!

Different approaches for moral ambiguity for clients using psychology-- we’ve seen this with defending clients who are actually guilty, or being blackmailed. I’d be interested in seeing a Jekyll and Hyde situation where 2 different sides of one person commit a crime, but one side is unaware of it-- and how a defense lawyer would handle this!

Exploring the plea for insanity in court! Double jeopardy! Escaped convicts! A murder whose trial to find a good jury has been delayed for a long time and is forced to find its resolution outside of court due to the murderer striking again!

Also, to pull in some stuff I read about elsewhere, after reading about moral psychology in Jonathan Haidt’s book The Righteous Mind and moral triggers that typically pull strong reactions (care, fairness, loyalty, authority, sanctity), I was also thinking about how ace attorney manages to build emotionally compelling cases in relation to this model. Ace Attorney imo so far has done pretty alright at hitting most of these triggers at some point to hype the emotion, but for the final case, it ends up being played in what I see as generally the same way (ex: character development starts from from my duty as a lawyer is my role as the defense/prosecutor into that of my duty is to find the truth, authority corrupt and that is bad, justice should be served fairly, I am loyal to my group of prosecutor/defense, also played with loyalty and betrayal in DD with Apollo and Athena splitting, also triggered sanctity a bit in SOJ with the religion, lots of other examples probably but that’s a few). I’d be interested in seeing these same moral triggers played upon in different manner for some variety! Maybe even pursuing some different themes than justice and truth and duty and all that jazz, but idk what else could be alright to explore cause the courts kinda embody all that and deviating to make a statement about other themes might not fit as well in the courts hmm

Also part 2, I wonder if there’ll be romantic undertone somewhere (or heavily implied) for any new or old major characters. Romantic love isn’t usually used with major characters as a plot point (usually platonic stuff, friendship, family, or duty to the truth is instead) but I’d think it’d be interesting if romance was used this time around as an emotional motivator to drive the plot

#ace attorney #ace attorney 7 #aa7 #i kind of wrote this all at once so it's probably really jumbled ahhhhfhhhh #basically i want that sweet major character angst #i might just end up making an AU with these ideas if they're not in AA7 because i want an excuse to see these in a plot hohohoh #anyway i'm trying not to have expectations but i got myself all excited anyway so here we are

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vanityloves · 3 years

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HHHHHHHHHHHH I'M HONORED YOU THINK OF MAXWELL AND ME, THANK YOU JUDE 😭!!!!!! Gosh please you really know me, ocean and the color green and the royalty aesthetic i try hard to go for is just... Ahhhhh I'm touched man ;----; ✨💗👑!!!!

My one (1) horror f/o is Nate Wallace/Repo from Repo: The Genetic Opera! It's a slapstick, gorey, raunchy, grungy musical and it's just so fricjinf fun to watch, it's free on Prime i believe and gosh i recommend it!!! (You look like you'd enjoy this one character named Graverobber. Imagine a feral raccoon but with nice hair and a great voice and that's him dkkdkdkd)

Nathan is like a Jekyll and Hyde character in which he has a dark persona I HC he created to help himself deal psychologically with the messed up situation he's forced into- when he sings and even talks as his darker self, "Repo", his voice becomes more rough and growly and i just brbrbrbr sit there like

👁️ 👄 👁️<3

i read "wife them up" and INSTANTLY pictured Jason in a 1950s house dress and heels I'm so sorry but also I'm not sorry because that's a whole look and you & I both know this so I guess I'm apologizing to your followers really for me just throwing that mental image out there djdjdjdjd I need you to think of Jason chopping firewood but in a 50s day dress ok it's important <333

Also i think that's so sweet what your sis got you ✨💗🥺!!! I bet she loves her new wallet, those are super fricking nifty, wallets are just idk they're so useful and fun and personalized y'know? Bet Spencer would carry a picture of you two together in his wallet ✨💗

Sunny @tex-treasures

HONESTLY I THINK OF ALL UR FOS WHEN I SEE YOU LIKE kabu, moriarty, maxwell, and def nathan too! you have a very distinct feel/aura and aesthetic that i associate you with and youre always so inviting and kind! @tex-treasures

OK I LOVE REPO AND IDK WHY SUMN DIDNT CONNECT FOR A SECOND LIKE i know hes from repo but i just blanked 😭 also so true, Graverobber is big sexy, i actually use his voice as a voiceclaim of another chara i used to ship with!

i rly need to rewatch it when i get the chance! i still have the songs saved on my phone n they casually come on when i shuffle my music which is ♡♡♡ on top of that, i made repo!medic art a while ago which is actually one of those pieces im kinda proud of :D

also i can definitely see that! esp with how grim their present day is, plus having no real solution? on top of having a sickly daughter - its just A Lot for a guy to take :'/ hopefully you can bring some light in his life (and shilohs if thats your dynamic!) YAYA I GET WHAT YOU MEAN! his darker, alter ego, having to hide it from his daughter and being the guy everyone fears when mentioned;:

its so wild bc jason shouldve been raised in the 50s (but The Incident happened so things didnt rly work out) but i imagine his mother taught him a few things n was generally well behaved! jason in the housewife fit fo tha day 😩 also no need to apologize, i think this guy needs more clothes as a treat 😌 a mans gotta make due with the clothes campers left so i imagine he has to squeeze into some tight shirts and such when hes desperate hshdcthe guy can rip apart logs w/ his hands in a dress and id sot there like *claps* encore encore 😌💕

also ty! i cleared up my keyring and put her stuff on it + a wee jason charm i bought ! also i was kinda surprised at how happy she was w/ it bc shes usually like 'ew.' whenever i give/tell her sumn shdjd and yayaya i feel like those smaller items can tell u a lot ab the person (eg. ppl that still use those duct tape wallets...Wow.) Spencer is the puts ugliest photo of me as his home screen but he'll be dramatic and have a pic of us in his wallet so he can make up a story to get out of things qjdhd

#ah...au where jasons Kinda Ok ... *puts on the camp counselor fit*#sunny!!!#tex!!!#nathan: i can be yuor angle...or yuor devil #idk why repo and beetlejuice give me the same vibes sometimes #probably the dead mom concept HSHSHD #ask reply #ahhh ty sm tex i care youA

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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Ok so its 2:30 am and im going feral over syndicate au

After they “officially” (or as official as they can be at least) hire jekyll as their chemist things are somewhat awkward between henry and jacob for a bit. With the other people henry can be professional and friendly towards but jacob was literally the one introducing him to all of this. Via a one-night-stand

Except that attraction between them is obviously there?? Like they (probably) wouldnt have done the wahoo with eachother if it wasnt there, so all theres left is for them to get to know eachother. And they do slowly get to know eachother through meetings, and business exchanges where jacob tries to flirt and henry is flustered but not too flustered to laugh, and then they start talking outside work and then before they know it theyre back to making out except this time theyre SOBER and they decide it means something. And then BOOM, boyfriends

And then jacob thinks hes funny, and the kidnappings start happening

Also i would to know how jacob would react to the big reveal that jekyll = hyde. Personally im a big fan of “oh wow my beloved youre genuinely an insane person :) thats cool tho. Love you lots xoxo”

Hey dude. You know what I was... Is it called daydreaming if I did it to go to sleep? Either way you know what I was imagining over and over and over when trying to go to sleep?

Exactly this.

I can imagine Henry being so incredibly awkward around the other assassins and especially Jacob at first. After all, Jacob was a one-night-stand and all other assassins wanted him dead (he assumes) but he quickly befriends Evie and Greenie because he is as social as a puppy and is just as likable as one. But he keeps a distance from Jacob because he finds the entire situation incredibly uncomfortable and especially after what happened with Robert. He doesn't want to get hurt like that again and even if his heart slowly, slowly is letting go of Robert and willingly opens itself up again, he desperately tries to lock it away and make sure he isn't too close to Jacob. Jacob, who probably is a person to fall head-over-heels with persons he just met and especially if they have even shagged (he literally fell in love with two of his enemies after 1-2 meetings, canonically, one being a gal and one being a lad) is probably quite hurt by Jekyll taking a distance but he still tries. Hence the flirting, hence still trying to get to know Henry.

A few months pass, maybe. Henry gets used to working for the assassins, he spends most of his free time on the train because he can escape both Lodgers and friends alike and just... Relax. Even if he spends most of his time there, and even if he tries to get away from Jacob to not end up more hurt, he just can't. He keeps getting pulled into those handsome eyes and those flirty jokes and he just can't deny that he is feeling something for Jacob, and Jacob notices. Suddenly Greenie and Evie are gone on an emergency mission and Jacob and Henry are alone on the train. Perhaps Jacob would offer Henry some whiskey, perhaps they would just sit around and talk on one of the couches. Perhaps Jacob would slowly inch his way closer and Henry would pretend not to notice. Suddenly Jacob's hand is on his thigh and Henry's breath hitches, his face shots up to meet Jacob's gaze and their noses brush together. They are alone, Jacob takes his chance, and so softly he presses their lips together. Nowhere near as hungrily as their first meeting and nowhere near as possessively as during their shag. It's soft, it's adoring, and Henry can't help but melt into it. He doesn't want to but something in him feels safe with Jacob, much safer than he had ever felt with Robert, much more loved than he had ever felt by Robert, yet he quickly falls back to reality when Jacob's hand moves-- maybe not even up his thigh, maybe he just accidentally nudged it-- and Henry places his hands on Jacob's chest and breaks off. So many thoughts and feelings swirling around in his head, yet all he can feel is how his heart clenches so violently and everything in him is screaming stop, stop, go back, you are ruining it, all while it's also screaming run, run, don't look back, don't let yourself get hurt again.

Henry stands up, Jacob follows as Henry begins to panic so slightly. He is apologizing profusely, he is saying that Jacob please shouldn't take this personally, it's just... He can't handle this right now, he's sorry, Jacob did nothing wrong but Henry just isn't ready for it. Right as Henry is about to leave the train, Jacob stops him. He asks what he did wrong, or what's making Henry panic so. Henry stops, for a moment, takes a deep breath, and tells him that he just... Does not know what Jacob wants from him, and he has been hurt by pretend-relationships enough that he doesn't want to experience that again. Jacob tells him that he actually likes him, he would like to have an actual relationship with him sometime, if that would be something Henry would want and would be comfortable with. Henry pauses, another deep breath, and finally, he just says that... He needs to think about it. Please give him some space, he will give him a letter once he has gotten to think things through, he is sorry for being difficult but it's just... So, so much for him and after what he has been through. It's nothing personal, he assures Jacob, yet both of them just feel so, so hurt as Henry waits for the nearest train station and leaves. It's in the middle of the night, yet he is trudging his way back to the Society alone. Jacob debates following him, just to make sure he gets home safely, but doesn't.

Maybe it takes a few days, maybe some weeks, maybe even months, but soon, when Jacob enters the train after a particularly foul mission, Evie has a letter for him. "Jekyll came by and told me to give it to you", she says. Jacob could not grab it any faster, hastily tells her some weak excuse before excusing himself to his personal train compartment. He sits on his bed, he takes a deep breath, and he opens the wax seal of the letter-- so formal and official, he thinks. He wonders what Jekyll has told him, what news he is about to get. He can't deny that he likes him and that he likes him a lot. More than he liked Pearl. More than he ever liked Maxwell. What he feels for Henry feels good and real and he just feels miserable at the thought that Henry might not feel the same.

He opens the letter; the actual text and paper are just as "official" and formal as the actual wax seal and letter fold.

And then he reads it.

And the first thing Henry does, no surprise, is apologizing, and Jacob feels his blood run cold. But then he continues to read, and Henry is explaining why he was so scared. He has been hurt before, his last boyfriend treated him like a side piece that he just threw away and they had known each other for two years and it has affected Henry a lot. He apologized for being difficult, but he is willing to try out a relationship if Jacob is still up for it, and if he is just willing to take it slow and be patient with Henry.

And Jacob, of course, is willing to be patient. He is willing to wait for Henry because he likes him.

At the end of the letter, Henry asks Jacob to meet him in his office somewhere during the evening; he will keep the window open.

And Jacob does come.

And they get to talk it all out, they get to set some boundaries and actually talk about what they want out of all of this. Obviously ends with Jacob embracing Henry in a way only lovers can, and loads and loads of kisses.

Look, I'm just... So soft for this ship, ok? And now I have an excuse to ramble on about it bc more people actually ship them through this au and I love it.

ALso realized I completely forgot the last part heeh <3

So far, I have imagined the assassin crew (Jacob, Evie, Greenie) needing Henry for something but they see this... This blond gremlin breaking into his office. They immediately think of cornering him and questioning him about why he is breaking into Henry's office, except they enter at exactly the wrong time and manages to catch the transformation as Hyde turns back into Jekyll. They all stare in horror and yet Jacob doesn't hesitate to immediately run forward and cradle Henry; spitting and trying to keep himself from vomiting as all that slime and goop comes out of his mouth and eyes. Henry coughs, he manages to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the assassins and Jacob's face. He coughs again, he presses out a panicked smile, and the only thing he says is "oh fuck."

Jacob, without even thinking about it, immediately helps Henry to gather himself and clean himself off of the slime, Evie and Greenie are just standing on the sidelines unsure of what to do. Finally, Henry is rested against a cabinet and his breathing is calmer, and he manages to explain everything. Yeah, he was really depressed a few years ago and he thought there were things that were horribly wrong with him so he wanted to get rid of that. Except he accidentally personified all of that "bad" stuff and now that person is Edward Hyde. Jacob would definitely be... Slightly concerned, but would very much be like "oh so you are slightly insane and also halfly schizophrenic? Ahaha is no big deal I still love u darling xoxo"

...Y'all think Jacob would start flirting with Hyde too after that?

Honestly! I very much like all kinds of confessions when it comes to the Jekyll/Hyde reveal, so? Gimme all your thoughts, I crave them all. I just love the angsty routes <3

#eheheheh <3 #deliefdevanmijnleven #ask #banshees au #syndicate crossover au #banshees faves

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