#little cringe aaa

[olivergarlic]

silly oc group photo

[trouble-warning]

It's Chews-day

*nomnomnomnom*

[bednbunfast]

just...just one more task...and i am free from school..!! then i can go back to doodling the silly little characters from twst (and perhaps even rio ranger? he has been in my mind for quite a while now...please leave silly doll boy!!!)

or not...i've been very preoccupied with another oc that's not twst related,, she has no name but they will very much be cemented in your head if you meet them!!

here's a very quick doodle of her!! i've just been calling her Dummy atm,, to lose your name...how stupid of you!! i guess she just lies about that,, she does know their own name...just,, refuses to tell people!! even i don't know it...! yet..!

[they-thespian666]

Wow rage is a really good motivator for making art

[lookingformoondrop]

OMG FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES ABT THE COFFIN OF ANDY AND LEYLEY AAA

Honestly I'd take any writing about Andy LMFAO whatever you want to write, I'd just love to read something, be it headcanons or some short story <3

Absolutely! I was shocked when I tried finding content for TCOAAL, and there was none💀. For the sake of fluff Andy, the reader is the closest thing Andy has to a sister!

*Leyley doesn't exist*

P.S. Hopefully, this isn't OOC. This is also not proofread, so

I hope these meet your expectations <3

Andrew Graves x female best friend! Reader

TW: Everyone has a filthy mouth (swearing)... N/M = Nickname ♡

♡925 WORDS♡

Ever since Andrew was a kid, he was treated more as his parent's friend than their kid.

This often meant that Andrew was forced to miss out on childish routines like throwing a tantrum, making a mess, having fun the loud way, and making mistakes, simply because "he was so easy."

If he were to add to his parents' load of problems, he wouldn't be able to live with himself, let alone sleep.

But that was all before he met you.

Every Friday, Mrs. Graves would give Andrew money to go on a snack run for the weekend.

But no matter what he did, no matter when or how he entered the grocery store, this little girl (no less than five) would terrorize Andrew.

"She's so annoying, mom! She always snatches the snacks I go for and then bolts for the next aisle. Then she just giggles and runs away with MY TOMATO SOUP."

Mrs. Graves sighed and turned around to face her son, "Andrew, just because a little five year old girl is taking some of the same snacks as you DOES NOT MEAN I am letting you shop at a different store! 'Shop Shop Shop and Shop, with more Shop' is the best for low-deals and prices. Please don't be difficult."

With no other choices, Andrew was forced to continue shopping.

Every week, she did the same thing. She'd sneak up behind him when he wasn't paying attention. She'd snatch the poor snack out of Andrew's hand and would bolt out of the aisle.

And everytime she did this, Andrew would grow angrier and angrier.

Finally, when the little girl stole the hundredth can of soup from his hand, Andrew turned around and grabbed the little girl's hair.

"AHH! Get off of me asshole!"

"You little shit! Give me that can back!"

They'd fight over the can of soup in the middle of the aisle for the next 10 minutes before the store owner kicked them out for "public disturbances."

Now, without his can of soup, sitting at the curb outside the store, with new bite marks along his arm, Andrew was more pissed than ever.

"What the hell is your problem? Do you just find malicious torment funny, you borderline psycho?"

Andrew turned towards the girl. She turned her smile towards Andrew, "Nah, just you."

Annoyed and exhausted, he put his face in his hands.

She thought for a moment , "No one plays with me, so I figured I should play with someone who looked as miserable as me."

Andrew looked at her through his fingers, "What about me screamed misery?"

She put a finger on her bottom lip, deep in thought, "You just have this face,"

Andrew scoffed at the girl, burying his face in his knees. She giggled.

"You just naturally look like an asshole"

"Watch your language, you fucking shit!"

Andrew went to grab the girls hair, "You dont even know my name, and yet you're calling me an asshole!? No wonder you dont have any friends."

She slapped Andrew's hand before it could reach her, "Well, what's your name?"

Andrew hesitated, "It's...Andrew Graves. What's yours?"

The little girl smiled, "Y/N L/N, your new best friend, Aaaaandy."

Andrew sat lazily with Y/N, laying on his lap. He cringed when he thought about their first meeting.

Of all the things they could've fought about, it was a can of soup... God, they're fucking stupid.

Since that day, Y/N would beg Andrew for attention and fun. She'd stalk him when he was out and about and would drag him away from any errands he was requested to run on.

"Leave me alone, N/M"

"Make me~"

"Please?"

"Lame. Now I have to come with you! With that bitch ass attitude you'll get beat up."

"Great."

And when Andrew accidentally reveal his address? Andrew was permanently stuck with Y/N.

Every Friday, she'd follow Andrew home, and even when Mr. and Mrs. Graves questioned the foul-mouth girl Andrew would never offer an explanation better than, "Some stray I picked up that won't let go. I have to keep her."

"Aaaaandyyy, can you change the channel? I don't want to lift my eyelids."

Andrew sighed, "The remote is right by your leg, dumbass"

"So?" She scoffed, "reach it for me."

"It's closer to you than it is to me!"

"Andy change the goddamn channel!"

"i'm not getting up just because your ass wants to be lazy!"

"ANDREW"

"Y/N"

Even if that meant pissing each other off with meanless schemes.

Despite their bickering that has made local pedestrians' ears bleed, they still were there for each other in everything.

"Whatever, you dumb bastard," Y/N mumbled to herself.

Andrew played with Y/N's hair as he stared at the mindless TV.

"Veronica Steveson asked me out to the date."

"Aw, poor hussy"

"Ouch, you think so lowly of me?"

"No, I just assumed you said no," Y/N continued to watch the TV.

"Why would I...?" Before Andrew could finish his sentence, Y/N sat up and stared at him with intense eyes.

"Do you like her?"

"W- Well no, but it's not like any other girls are crawling to date me"

Y/N scoffed at Andrew, flicking his forehead, "That's because you're stupid to notice."

She laid back down on his lap, and Andrew secretly smiled to himself. "So...who aren't I noticing?"

"Your mom."

"Y/N GROSS!"

And even if no one admitted it out loud, and even if you blushed one too many times around each other, you belonged with each other.

"But seriously, Andy, pass me the remote"

"Eat shit, N/M"

Thank you for the ask <3

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life

Part 8: The Calm Before the Fall

|Part 7: Me and You In Eternity| |Part 9: The Vows That Bind Me [Finale]| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Asexual! Alastor, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, dishes, being a simp for your partner, Asexual! Alastor, husband! Alastor. demon!Alastor School is killing me. I have like an exam tomorrow that I should be prepping for. Somehow, this was more important

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Morning of The Extermination

The bustling of preparation echoes around the hotel, crowding the once empty halls. There’s a cannibal fortifying some stray windows. Every bang of her hammer rings your ears. Boxes are being dropped and discarded all around you.

The bomb thrown from Angel Dust’s friend doesn’t help soothe the pain in your ears, nor does his gunfire. They’ve been practicing some ‘special takedown moves’ since the crack of dawn. It was the same routine yesterday, and the day before that as well. It’s a small consolation that they’re practicing outside, muffled by the hotel walls.

Another booming explosion makes you wince, and it jostles some feathers right out your scalp. With a sigh, you pocket the strays.

Lys and Heme startle, bumping into each other as they follow behind. Lys glances around, taking a step closer to the group. Heme doesn’t seem too bothered by the sound. Their eyes filter around the tacky décor of the hotel.

Heme leans closer to you, whispering. “At least there isn’t much pink here.”

You snicker into your shoulder, and wave Charlie and Vaggie over when they round the corner. Charlie grabs Vaggie’s hand, dragging her closer.

“Come meet my interns,” you say and gesture to Lys and Heme. “They’ve agreed to participate in today’s extermination. There’s quite a number of cannibals fighting, so I thought I would call for some assistance.”

“That makes sense,” Vaggie nods, shaking their hands with a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlie smoothens the skirt of her dress, waving at them. “You guys all work together?”

“I was a paramedic back up top,” Heme says, waving back at Charlie. “Your cannibals will be in good hands.”

“And I was an ER nurse!” Lys gives them a thumbs up. “I never expected to become a doctor here in hell. The tuition fees are so much cheaper. I thought the fees would be ridiculously impossible to afford, but it’s practically free! A bit surprising since we are in hell—probably some kind of off-brand humor.”

“Neither did I,” you say, humming. 

Alastor insisted on paying for your education. It’s one of the very rare times when he refused to accept a ‘no’ from you. The tuition fees were being paid by him, and that was final. It’s good that the tuition fees barely dented his fortune, considering Alastor didn’t bother checking how much money exited his pocket every term.

“Shall we do names?” Charlie smiles at them. “This is Vaggie and I’m—"

“Charlie Morningstar,” Lys finishes for her. “I saw you on the TV.”

“From the commercial, hopefully.”

“From the news with Katie Killjoy,” Lys says. “You put up quite the entertaining display.”

Charlie laughs awkwardly.

You clear your throat a little. “This is Heme, and that’s Lys but we call her K sometimes.”

“You could also just go AAA as well.” Heme snorts into the air. “I certainly do when I see her in the morning. Her hair just puffs up like some kind of eldritch horror.”

“Absolutely not!” Lys elbows them. “K or Lys will do.”

“I really hope that isn’t your actual government name.”

Lys rolls her eyes, huffing. “And why would it be?”

“So…,” Heme begins, cringing a bit. “You willingly choose that name?”

“As if ‘Heme’ is any better.”

Another loud explosion jostles more feathers right off your scalp. Those go into your pocket as well. If Angel Dust and his friend survive the extermination, you will shove a bomb down their throat and smile as their blood streaks the fucking pink of your office walls.

You place a hand on Lys’ shoulders. “Yes, yes, you are both raging nerds—we get it,” you say, swatting your hand in the air. “Now be polite and say hello to Charlie and Vaggie.”

Lys and Heme both say their hellos.

Vaggie tilts her head, and some strands of her hair shift to her eyes. Charlie brushes some strands away. “K?” Vaggie echoes. “How do you get K from Lys?”

You smile at Vaggie. “If you don’t know why, then you don’t know why.”

“Well, either way, I’m so glad you’re willing to help.” Charlie’s eyes shine as she rocks on the balls of her fist. “I really appreciate how willing you are about helping out.”

Heme raises their hands in surrender. “Don’t thank us just yet.”

Lys shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “What Heme means to say is that we were offered extra points to be here.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Vaggie tells them, placing a hand on her hip. “Are you sure you want to be here? I mean…for extra points…?”

Lys laughs.

Heme laughs.

You laugh.

Lys grabs Vaggie by the shoulder, clutching it as she bores her eyes into Vaggie, pulling her closer. “I would do anything for extra points.”

Charlie’s smile stiffens as she peels Lys' fingers off Vaggie. She takes Vaggie’s hand pulling her closer, and turns to Lys with a smile that shows off her teeth. “I wish you luck, then.”

Somehow, you doubt if Charlie actually means that. Vaggie doesn’t seem to notice as her smile becomes a bit dopey.

Heme brings out their arm to separate Lys from Charlie, showing off their own smile. “We really appreciate that,” they say. “Thank you, your highness.”

Charlie places a hand on her chest, bringing out her hand to offer Lys a handshake. Heme takes it for her, smiling with a gentleness that would be foolish to believe. Alastor would love to witness such a sight. It seems he has trained the princess well, but your own pupil isn’t keen on losing either.

“We shouldn’t take too much of your time. I’ll let you guys go back to work,” you say, clearing your throat. “I’ll be here preparing the station inside the hotel. Lys and Heme will be smoothening the secondary site. If you need anything, we’ll be around.”

The group disperses and so does the tension. Vaggie pulls Charlie by the hand, and the filter off. She has to use the tips of her toes to steal a kiss from Charlie. Goodness! Not even you and Alastor are so unrefined to show off such cheesy displays. (Right…Right?)

You pick up a small crate of vials, hauling it off to its appropriate shelf. It’s quite heavy. Everything needs to be organized. It’s going to be chaotic once the extermination begins. Things need to be in order for quick and easy access.

The shadows below you flicker for a second. Alastor slithers out of your shadow. He doesn’t need to specifically slither out of your shadow. It could be any other shadow, but for some reason, Alastor chooses to pop out under yours anyway.

Alastor snatches the crate from you, inching ever so closer. “We wouldn’t want you breaking such a brittle back, would we?”

You roll your eyes, bumping your shoulder. The vials in the crate clink. “Thank you for bringing me here, Al,” you say. “I like this place. It’s a shame that I’ll have to leave soon.”

Alastor slots the crate when you point to the empty slot on the shelf. He summons his microphone with an annoying type of flare, using it to lean closer. “I doubt you actually think that.”

“It’s only because of the trees in your room.”

Alastor gives you a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s your room until the trees are present,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean on the shelf. “I feel like there are animals that watch me sleep at night.”

Another loud boom has you jostling into the shelf behind you. It ruffles the feather right off your scalp. Alastor inches closer, placing a hand on your ears to muffle yet another boom.

“If you step inside, and actually take a look, then there would be no reason to be frightened,” Alastor tells you, presenting the fallen feathers with a smile that shows off the yellow in his teeth. “It’s quite a nice place for a picnic. You would know that if you got over such ridiculousness, and allow me to take you.”

“Are you going to watch television with me?”

Alastor squints at you with annoyance but still, he places his hands on your ears to muffle another boom. “Absolutely not.”

You show Alastor the most innocent smile you can produce. “Then I’m not bringing a single feather into your forest that’s in your room. Although…I am eager to go to our home where there are no trees.”

Alastor shakes his head at you.

The halls are strangely silent. If you strain your hearing, the cluster of Sinners loitering outside catch your ears. How lovely. It seems the bomb assault on your ears have ceased as well.

Alastor leans forward until his bowtie reaches your vision. It’s crooked. You reach out for it, straightening it for him. The pads of your fingers smoothen the creases of his bowtie. Your hand trails down his chest until your fingers hook on his lapels, and adjust the fit of his coat. It’s all so solid.

He pushes his fingers on your cheek to force a smile. “What’s on your mind that’s got you frowning so deeply?”

“There’s much to frown about. I’m worried about you, deerest.” You fix his bowtie once more. It’s already straightened. “Scared, if I’m to be honest, and confused as to why you would volunteer to fight Adam alone.”

“Would you join me then?”

“I would.”

Alastor’s claws dig into the wood until a portion snaps away. “Don’t you dare.”

He pushes your cheeks once more, and doesn’t stop until you show him a smile. A reward comes in the form of a cheek kiss. His lips linger on the skin of your cheek, nudging his nose closer.

“Either way, what an absolutely silly thought. This is nothing I can’t handle.”

“Silly and stupid, maybe,” you say, turning to the shelf behind to arrange a box of vials that’s already been re-arranged. “Even if it makes me a fool, I am… unfortunately …a fool who happens to be serious. A silly, silly, foolish wife.”

“I only said it was a silly thought. There’s nothing foolish about you.” Alastor places a hand on your head, patting some feather down. “I would leave if you asked me to.”

You lean into his touch, humming as you take in the truth that’s being presented to you. “And what would you do if I did ask?”

“I would take you.” Alastor’s smile softens for a moment. It’s in the way he hides his teeth, and how his smile reaches all the way up his cheeks.

“Just me?”

Alastor glances around before placing a kiss on the very edges of your lips. It causes you to bump into the shelf. A hand shoots out to press back whatever that threatened to tumble off the ledge. “Only you.”

“What else?” you say, playing with the tips of his fingers.

“We would go to our home, and I would sit on the piano, playing while you do your stitching.” Alastor traces the ring on your finger. “Later, the news will play from the radio and we’ll hear all about how the hotel toppled and everyone died.”

“Why—because you weren’t here?”

“It’s because you would be with me, eating breakfast,” Alastor says, smiling. “Then we’d have our coffee. In the evening, I would come home to you and this cycle would repeat beyond eternity.”

The pads of your thumb go up and down as you caress his face, accepting whatever truth Alastor displays for you to see. “But something tells me you can’t.”

“Yes…but I can’t,” Alastor affirms, placing a hand over your hand to nuzzle further into your palm.

“Just like you can’t tell me about whatever mess that caused you to disappear on me for several years,” you say, trying to show him a smile. It doesn’t work. “You could have at least taken me. I would have followed you to the edges of this world.”

Alastor closes his eyes and connects his forehead with yours. His lips open and close as if there are words he wants you to hear. Whatever they are, he doesn’t say them.

Did you make a mistake? The question roars through your mind. Are you saying too much? Are you displaying too much of your soul for him to see?

“My, most precious, Al,” you call out to him, forcing a light chuckle and a smile as you swat him playfully. “I think I would have even settled for a goodbye or some assurance that you were to return to me. Look at me now. Ha! Oh, how you have absolutely ruined me.”

Alastor summons his microphone. It lands with a harsh ‘thunk’ as he it to place a glaring distance between.

Oh…oh…

There’s a proud and dismissive smile on his lip—it almost hurts to see such a sight. He uses the microphone like a cane, leaning on it as he divides the space between you and him.

You reach out to touch him, trying to shorten the gap he’s forcing.

Alastor inches backwards, ever so slightly. It’s the smallest of movements, but it hits you with the gentleness of a crashing wave.

There’s nothing you can do to hide your frown. Once more, you turn your back to him, rearranging a perfectly organized set of glassware on the shelf. The glass clinks together as you move it. What did you say? Did you say too much?

Alastor studies you for a moment. His eyes flicker to you. Somehow, you’re able to give him a small and dismissive smile before turning away to rearrange another box. The cracks are beginning to show again. Not in front of him. Anywhere, but in front of Alastor.

He inches his own hand closer, tapping your fingers with the very tips of his nails.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Three taps in quick succession.

Once more, you reach out to touch him. Alastor meets you halfway, leaning into the hand that holds him. You swipe your thumb on his cheek.

“Will you trust me?” Alastor asks you.

“Not when you smile at me like this.” Both hands go to his cheek, smoothing his face with the pads of your thumb until there’s only a tightlipped smile. It’s better than whatever dismissive smile he thought to give you. “But you tell me—should I trust the Radio Demon?”

“It would be unwise to do such a thing,” Alastor tells you. “But you can trust me, and I need you to know that.”

The cheeky part of you wants to be annoying, and ask who ‘me’ is. There’s no need to question it, not when you already know. It’s the Alastor when you are with him and when he is with you.

“Why the sudden question?” you ask. “I trust you…I always know that I can trust you, deerest.”

Alastor takes both your hands, holding it in his. He presses his lips on your ring, kissing the smooth metal. “Because there is a difference,” he says. “There’s a reason why I will not explain myself to you. Not when it’s much safer if I don’t.”

He pulls you into a hug, clutching your head to press you deeper into his chest. Questions swirl around your mind but the way Alastor cradles your head, brushing your feathers ceases all questions and heeds into Alastor’s silent request. 

You snake your arm around his back, clutching the fabric of his coat to pull him tighter. Alastor leans his head on your shoulder, bending his back to fully curl into your arms.

Alastor pulls you closer to the shadows, shifting you so his back faces whatever Sinners that could walk in. He pulls you even closer, arching his back to press even closer.

You lean your cheek on his head, and the base of his ears flicker. “While the thought is deeply appreciated, I still don’t like it.”

“I never expected you to.” Alastor pulls away to pick a feather off your scalp.

There’s a box in your pocket. It would probably be safer to leave the thing in your room, but you couldn’t part with it. No…not that. Instead, you slip the ring off your finger. “I want you to keep this for me.”

Alastor’s smile wobbles, and his ears flicker for just a moment. “Ha! Is this your way of asking for divorce, dearest?”

You reach up and plant a kiss on the edge of his mouth. “As if I can ever bear to get rid of you, my love,” you say, taking his hand in yours. “It would be hazardous to wear it later, and I can’t have it falling out of my pocket. You’re the only one I trust to hold it for me.”

The ring slips into Alastor’s fingers easily. There are two rings on his finger now.

Alastor inches closer, and your back hits the shelf. “Is that all?”

You play with the edges of his fingers before intertwining your hand togethers. “I want to keep existing with you, deerest,” you say. “I want to keep doing the dishes for as long as you keep cooking for me—”

Alastor places a finger on your lips, hushing you into silence.

The feathers on your scalp bristles as he shushes you. Part of you wants to chomp off his finger for such an audacity.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Your lips twist as you take in his words. Once more, you look away and rearrange some syringes that have already been rearranged thrice.

“You speak as if I won’t return to you, and even when I do, I won’t.” Alastor presses a kiss on your forehead. “But I shall keep the ring for now if it proves to you that it will be returned. How ridiculous you are.”

“Is that a deal, my deerest, darling, husband?”

Alastor boops your nose. “What is the worth of a deal when we have our vows?”

“Then I will hold you to it,” you say. “Afterall, it would be troubling to have to find myself a third husband.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, trapping you between the shelf and his body. “That implies you’ve already had a second.”

“Oh darling,” you say, placing a hand on his cheek. “You are the second.”

“Am I now?” he says, inching closer. “How come I’ve never heard of this supposedly first husband of yours?”

“He was the most handsome radio start!” you tell him, flaring your hands as you smile. “But I prefer you much better. What is five years compared to decades of existing with you?”

Alastor’s smile widens to show off his teeth. “I happened to enjoy those five years with my first wife.”

You laugh, and Alastor’s eyes flicker all over your face. “Those five years were everything to me.”

“You’re doing it again—speaking as if you’re trying to convince me to stay,” Alastor says, softly. “I will return to you.”

“And I trust that you will.”

“My, most, dearest, your eyes crinkle when you smile,” he tells you. “Have I…Have I ever mentioned that to you?”

You show him your widest smile. “Does it?”

“It always has.”

Everything will be alright. The extermination will pass, and soon you’ll have that ring returned to you.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The full force of the extermination shakes the building. Every boom shakes the walls. The chandelier jerks with every shoot of the canon. Angels fly above the glass ceiling, their swords raised with flared wings.

They’re ethereal.

What makes them fly? Birds have hollow bones to lighten their bodies for flight. Do angels have similar physiologies? Do their insides bleed the same way humans bleed? The things you would do to have their bodies splayed on your table, ready for your scalpel. And those wings…Alastor would love those wings.

You place a hand on your heated cheeks, sighing with delight.

What kind of smile would Alastor show if you presented angel wings to him? Would he be delighted with your gift? Part of you hopes he will. The base of their wings should cut off easily enough. They would look grand displayed out in the living-room of your home.

The shouting and clanks of steel jostle you out of your day-dream. Cannons mixing with the bombs and gunfire are downright excruciating.

The door slams open.

Someone barges in, clutching their arm. Their forearm is missing. The cannibal strides towards you, straddling what’s left of his arm. Blood drips down and pools on the carpeted floor. The bones that stick out are jagged, as if it’s been blown off rather than sliced.

You wave him over as Lys and Heme rush to your side, and ignore their own patients.

The cannibal takes a pensive sit on the cot, showing off what’s left of his arm. Strings of muscle and skin dangle from his elbow, revealing the long-jagged bone of his ulna. Holy energy corrupts the tissues of the skin and patches of his skin droop and fall off by the second.

Right then and there, you knew that there was no saving this arm.

If the holy magic isn’t removed from his body soon, then the death of his tissue would continue to creep up his arm, and corrode the healthy tissues that remains. That is if the blood loss alone isn’t going to take him first.

How absolutely lovely! This cannibal isn’t screaming.

“Oh…goodness,” you say, trying to fight off a smile. “This is the sixth one already, and it hasn’t even been an hour yet!”

Groaning and wailing echo around the hotel. Their desperate pleas for reprieve are ignored in favor of the cannibal with the corroding arm. Holy light consumes what’s left and burns his arm like acid. The cannibal’s face contorted with pain, biting the inside of his cheek to drown the scream.

“Deep breaths,” you tell him. “Once we remove the holy light, your body should heal right on his own. That’s quite lucky, right? Had you been human, I would have needed to clip some blood vessels and cut off your nerves.”

There’s a polite smile on Lys. “Do we remove the holiness?”

The blood on his arm pools on your gloves as you take it in your hold. “That would take too much time and resources, unfortunately.”

“Then…can we cut it off?” Lys asks, and her smile turns downright sinister.

You bite your lips, letting it quiver as you hold your smile. It doesn’t work. “I believe we can.”

The cannibal gulps as Lys and Heme crowd around him. Heme takes his intact arm, pinning it down to buckle the shackles around his wrist. They move on to his head. Lys makes quick work to chain his legs, and buckle his torso with the straps.

Heme takes a deep breath and sighs with bliss. “Shall I grab the morphine?”

“There’s no time,” you say, giving the cannibal a small and reassuring thumbs up. “If we wait, there will be nothing left to cut off...just a tourniquet, please.”

“Of course.”

You turn to the cannibal, pointing to your opened mouth for him to mimic. “Say, ‘Ahhhhhhh’. Can you do that for me? Ahhhh. Don’t worry, it’s just for your safety. Ahhhhh.”

The cannibal opens his mouth, obeying the request. A cloth gets shoved down his throat as Heme tightens the strap of the tourniquet.

“Hello there!” you say, smiling brightly as you lean down to meet his eyes. “Thank you for keeping silent so far. Try and keep it up! Don’t worry, I promise to be extra gentle.”

Lys hands you the bone saw. It’s surprisingly light as you take it from her. This saw is battery operated, and every bit automatic. One press of a button, and the saw revs, its sound reverberating around the busy room.

Modern technology is so useful! Back when you were alive, amputation was done using the strength of the person.

The cannibal begins to trash around to resist, but the straps hold him down too tightly. The saw goes through the tissues of his skin and muscles. He’s screaming now, his whole body taut as you press the saw deeper into him. The bone takes a second longer to cut through, but the force of the saw eventually wins over.

The cannibal passes out.

Lys inserts a morphine drop while Heme wraps his arm with bandages. They filter off right after, the thrill on the amputation obvious in their steps.

Someone barges into the room, cutting the line of Sinners waiting to be treated. It’s a female cannibal this time. She drags another cannibal in her arms, letting the legs drag limply on the floor. The weight of the body collapses her to the ground.

You walk up to her, placing a hand on her shoulders and kneel to meet her eyes. “Hello.”

“Please,” she chokes out, clutching the body tighter. The squish of blood squirts on your coat. How disgusting. “He…Help him.”

There’s a hole where his lungs should be. It’s as if someone punches a cavity straight into his chest. This Sinner is dead, and his entrails are slipping out this very moment.

“Do you know him?” You brush stray hair behind her ear. “Come on, now. Talk to me—Do you know him?”

“Y-yes,” she says, tears spilling from her eyes. “This is my husband.”

A stray tear drips down her cheek. You brush the next one away. “Are you hurt?”

“What does that have to do with him? I’m not here for me!” She clutches your coat, wrapping her fingers around the fabric.  “Please, you have to help. The princess said you were here to help. So, help him.”

The blood staining her palms transfers to the fabric of your coat. How revolting. You peel her fingers off.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” you say with a bright smile. “You’re free to leave your husband in the deceased pile and pick up his body later. The next room is open if you can’t fight anymore. You could always pick up a stray weapon. Do whatever pleases you, but you can’t stay here.”

“…What?” Her teeth sharpen as cracks appear on her pearly white skin.

Interesting.

Had Rosie and Alastor not been on such friendly terms, you would have opened a cannibal’s insides a long time ago. It’s a shame the deceased pile will be used as food. Should you ask Alastor to negotiate a deal for one of their bodies?

Alastor … Alastor…Oh, how he would enjoy some angel wings.

“Toss her out.” You stand up and brush away the flakes of dried blood. “Tag the husband, then toss him on the pile. I wouldn’t want eyes to start appearing here. They’re rather creepy.”

You give the cannibal a small wave as inky shadow puppets drags her out the door, kicking and screaming.

Lys walks up to you, ignoring the growling wails around. There’s so much work to do—a break is taken when a break is found. “Wow,” she says, whistling. “That was harsh.”

Heme appears next. It seems they too tired of their patients. “It comes with the job.”

“Of course, I know it comes with the job. You don’t care for those you don’t care about.” Lys turns to you, smiling. “Hey doc, would you cry if we were here?”

“Probably from the loss of such amazing talent!” you tell them as if you would. Not a single tear would leave your eyes if they died. It would be deluded to think you would, but it’s quite a lovely fantasy. “I see you’ve been practicing—”

The glass ceiling shatters, and glass rains down.

You shield your eyes as Vaggie and some other angel crash to the ground on a dragon. It’s quite sad to see such a majestic creature go to waste. Should you preserve some of its bones after the extermination? Surely, Alastor would love some dragon bones…or perhaps its whole head.

Metal clinks as angelic steel crash against one another. Vaggie swipes her spear, but the angel dodges it easily.

This place is no longer safe.

“Evacuate the secondary site!” you exclaim. “Grab who you can, and…eh… just leave anyone who can’t stand on their own. Forget about the body pile. Just go!”

Heme nods and brushes stray glass out of Lys’ hair.

You grab your things, keeping an eye out as Vaggie and the angel exchange blows. Should you help her? Vaggie’s part of Alastor’s little pet project.... It’s not your fight and thus, not your problem. It seems you wouldn’t need to help. Vaggie’s wings burst forth, and uses her spear to dislodge some concrete to drop on the angel. 

A chain reaction of falling debris ensues.

It has you pressing backwards to narrowly dodge being crushed, and traps you into a corner.

Great! Lucky you. Love that.

Now, you have to climb your way out. Of course, this happens to you. The secondary site should already be prepared if it hasn’t already been run over by angels. The screams of Sinners grate your ears as you step on stray debris.

An angel bursts from the broken ceiling. She swoops down, plunging her sword through the neck of a stray Sinner. Ugh, what a waste of resources. If the cannibal was going to die in the end, then he should have just died the first time. How irritating.

You climb the rocks, dropping to the ground.

The angel turns towards you with her sword. You raise your hand in surrender.

“Are you a doctor?” The angel asks you, taking a step closer.

Fuck…

You take a step back. “Do you angels not have a rule against targeting medical personnel?”

The light reflects off the angel’s sword as she raises it higher. That’s a really sharp sword. A proper sharp sword. A sword with a very, very, sharp edge.

You’re running.

The muscles of your leg aches, and every breath you take burns your lungs. There’s something to live for. It’s not a waste of energy if there’s something to live for.

The building lights glitches sporadically. A buzz grows into the air, and tingles up the nerves of your spine. Your shadow spreads as if darkness itself urges it to grow. It climbs up the wall, and paints the whole space darker. 

The angel looks confused, taking a step back to assess what’s happening. A bright green hue streaks the edges of the shadow. Static builds. It starts off as a soft crackle until it’s all you can hear.

The symbols that carve itself in the air bring out your laughter. “Oh, just you wait until my husband arrives.”

An arm creeps out of the shadows below you. The bones are bent and the claws attached to the arm scratch the floor. A second arm joins the first one, pressing on the ground to haul itself upwards. Alastor climbs out of your shadows, and the air glitches with a sharp static. His antlers are growing, increasing like tree branches.

Blood drips out of his smile, and pools on the floor. Stitches appear on the edges of Alastor’s lips as his snarl widens to bare his teeth. Radio dials replace his usual red pupils.

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, the blood on his mouth transferring to your skin. A blissful sight escapes you. “Hi, honey,” Alastor says, a thick radio filter glazing his voice. “I hope I’m not too late.”

Green tendrils snake up the leg of the angel, wrapping around tightly. With a harsh tug, the angel crashes on the ground, trashing against her restraints.

“Not at all!” you say as Alastor’s bone snaps back into place. Gone are the proud antlers and the radio dials that strike your core. What a shame. “Dinner’s being pesky. Can I trouble you with some help?”

“Tell me you’re alright.”

Tiny voodoo dolls creep out of the shadows. They turn their heads, and their bones creak and snap as they turn towards the angels, crawling towards her.

Alastor grabs your shoulder, spinning you to face him instead of the angel. You try to turn, but he pokes your cheek then brushes the back of his fingers down.

His gaze harshen as he looks at the angel, a cold look in his eyes. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“Just went for a slight jog,” you say and take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. You’re so out of shape that it’s not even funny. “See? Not a feather out of place thanks to you. I just need a minute to calm down.”

Alastor turns to you, and it’s funny to see how fast his gaze turns from cold and harsh to warm and soft.“I thought it was a waste to run.”

“Well, it’s not a waste if you’re running because you have something to live for,” you say as screaming replaces the radio static. It’s loud and shrill, grating your ears. A woosh of the sword, but nothing seems to connect. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the roof?”

Vaguely, Adam and Lucifer exchange blows as they duel across the sky.

Alastor smiles at you, and there’s still blood dripping down his smile. You reach out for him, swiping the blood on his lips with your thumb. It leaves a streak. “I was.”

“Help me…” The angel reaches out. Its wings and part of its legs have been bitten off. “Please… Mercy … mercy.”

“Hush now, darling,” you say, placing a finger on your mouth. There’s a smile on your lips as you bare your teeth. “Mommy and Daddy are talking.”

The angel screams louder. She reaches out as the voodoo dolls chomp their teeth into her skin.

Alastor grabs your shoulders once more, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What happened to Adam?” you ask.

He inches closer. “He isn’t important.”

The angel ceases her screaming, but the sound of squelches doesn’t stop. What a truly gruesome sight.

“You could have saved the body for me,” you tell him, pouting. “I’ve never seen the insides of an angel before…and I wanted to gift you wings. I think you would have liked it.”

Alastor presses his lips on the edges of your mouth and more of his blood transfers on you. He brushes the dirt that sticks on your skin. “This one isn’t worth your time,” he tells you. “I’ll find you someone better. One with less intestines sticking out their guts.”

Somehow, your smile becomes dopey as the taste of iron fills your senses. “Oh, I love it when you flirt with me.”

“You have a very ridiculous notion of flirting.”

There’s a loud and sharp ringing that forces you to clutch your ears.

It’s like a build-up of power. The sound grows, echoing in your eardrums. The pain forces you to your knees, and you clutch your feather to muffle more of the sounds.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Ḯ̶̝͝t̵͇͝h̸͚̲̐̄ũ̵̺r̵̰͎̈́̀ṱ̷͈̉̓s̸͈͕͋̅ í̷̠͎͠t̸͚̥͋h̴̖͌û̷̧r̸̜̉ͅẗ̵͕̯́͐ŝ̴̨ ǐ̵͈̀ṱ̴̻̂̐h̷̻̄͜ǜ̵͈r̶͕̣̈́t̴͇̝̅̕s̷͇̖̈́ ḭ̷̡̈́ţ̵̔h̸͕̱̿ú̸͙̂r̴̯̈t̶͇̖̄s̴̹̆ ḭ̷͗t̸̨͑h̵̭͗̄û̵̞͓͝r̸̭͚̐͌t̸͓̬̃s̵̤̎̂ͅ

Vaguely, you feel Alastor’s hand on top of yours. He presses into your palm to help muffle the sound. His lips are moving. It’s too loud to hear him. Tears prickle your eyes as you clutch your head tighter. He pulls you closer to him, bringing you into his chest as he cradles your head.

With a deafening boom, the building explodes in half.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The dust settles eventually.

Light bulbs shatter to the ground, and the brightness of the morning streams into the broken building, illuminating the ruined hall.

The building cut in half. One large beam, and destruction surrounds Alastor everywhere. So much destruction, and loss of Sinner life that eyes begin to carve themselves on the very foundations of the walls.

Power drums through Alastor’s veins, but it would take more than one haphazardly shot beam to destroy the entirety of the Hazbin Hotel.

His wounded pride isn’t important. Not right now. Not at this very moment.

Alastor brings his hand up and down the feathers of your head, smoothening the ones that sticks out. Your shoulders tremble as he presses you into his chest, and he feels every shake under his palm.

The way he holds you, cradling your head with a tightened grip around your body, flares the wound sliced into his chest.

Every single fiber of him hopes you don’t notice. Alastor will take care of that later, and only when you’re safe and far, far, away the crumbling building. Not a second before that.

Alastor pulls you closer to him, even if the pain burns his chest. “Tell me you’re alright,” he says. “You need to tell me nothing hurts.”

It’s more of a plea than an actual demand.

He looks down at where he holds you, tightly pressed against his chest and crumpled between his legs. You’re both crouched on the ground.

Alastor pulls away, just enough to meet your eyes and not any more or any less.

Your hands press into your ears. There’s a blank look on your dusty face. He’ll clean you later. Safety first—you’re safety first, always and forever.

He trails his fingers until they hook on your chin. Alastor tilts it to force you to meet his eyes. “Come on, now,” he says. “This is not the time to be foolish. Tell me if anything hurts.”

There’s a strange look on your face as you bring your palms out in front of you. Blood stains your palms. The light that streams illuminate the space just enough for Alastor to notice the blood on your feathers as well.

It’s weird—strange, almost—how Alastor can hear the way his heart thumps.

“Alastor… oh god …Alastor,” you call out for him, voice an octave higher than usual. “I can’t hear anything. Alastor, I can’t hear. It hurts. I can’t … Alastor … Alastor—”

“I’m right here.” He holds your face in the palm of his hands, careful not to pierce you with his claws. Always careful. Forever careful. Always and forever careful.

You shake your head, trembling between his legs. “I can’t hear, Alastor,” you say with desperation. “I don’t like this.”

Alastor brushes a feather away, reveling in the way you call out for his name. “I’ll take care of that later.”

He pulls you back into his chest, pressing you deeper into him with tight arms. Even if the pain of you propped directly above his wound forces him to bite down on his lips, Alastor still holds you until you stop shaking.

He brushes his hand along your bake. It takes about ten minutes of sharp pain, and carefully labored breaths until you ease into his hold. Alastor would endure another ten minutes because he is your husband, and this is something he can handle. Even if he couldn’t, he’d still endure it for you.

You pull away, looking straight into him with eyes that shine brighter than the sun itself, and give him a bright smile. “Much better?”

A bright smile? Your smiles are rarely bright. They’re soft or gentle or wide or innocent or annoyed, and Alastor can keep on listing. They are bright, sometimes, but this is the wrong type of bright. This one barely reaches your cheeks, and your eyes aren’t crinkling.

It’s a smile for the sake of showing him a smile. It’s controlled and meant to hold your emotions.

Alastor steals a kiss from you, pressing kiss after kiss until your eyes crinkle. That’s better.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” he says, pressing one last kiss. “Come on. Tell me.”

“I’m assuming you’re asking if I can hear,” you say, and Alastor nods like he did. “The ringing stopped, but it’s all still muffled.”

Alastor brings you to your feet, clutching your hand.  The pads of his thumb go up and down. It’s a habit he doesn’t fully notice. “We’re leaving.”

You’re patting your pockets.

The shadows spread around you and his own clutches your hand, pulling it possessively.

It’s easier to travel alone, harder when there’s another person. It takes a significant portion of his magic to bring another person with him. Alastor doesn’t care, not when it’s you he’s bringing.

The shadows snake up, ready to transpo—

You push him away, stepping out of his grasp. “It’s gone! I can’t find it,” you mumble, whipping your head around. “It was right here. It should be right here.”

There’s panic in your eyes as you dash to a pile of rocks. It’s in the way your eyes open wider and your mouth hangs slightly open. Alastor sees every little detail on your face, even in the dark. Anyone who wasn’t looking would miss it, but he’s always looking.

“It was just in my pocket.” You’re in a frenzy now, digging your nails into whatever debris you find.

There’s a loud snap that echoes, but you don’t hear it.

Things were crumbling around you, but you didn't seem to notice. Or was it that you didn't care?

Alastor grips your arm, pulling you away. He narrowly saves you from a light fixture crashing right on your head.

You push on his chest, right above his hidden wound. Pain flares just enough for Alastor to ease his grip, and you pull away.

There are debris that escapes your notice. You trip on them, landing on your ass with a wince.

Alastor should laugh at you. He can’t find it in himself to do so. Not when it hurts in a different way to witness your push him away so… so effortlessly. The base of his ear flickers downwards at the sight of such apathy. Alastor forces them up.

He offers his hand to you. Still, you shake your head.

“No, no. nononono,” you tell him, pushing back. “Later. It should be right here. It was just in my pocket. Where is it?”

Your nails scratch the ground as you push away whatever’s in your sight to keep digging. The feathers on your scalp sharpen as you allow your emotion to take over.

Alastor grabs your arm once more, and he doesn’t care that your frown deepens. “We are leaving, now.”

Just as easily as before, you push him away.

“Stop being foolish!” he snarls at you, even when he knows you hardly hear him. “Whatever it is, I’ll get you another one.”

“It’s important, and I lost it,” you say, still entrapped into a frenzied daze. “I can’t lose it as well. Don’t leave me…Alastor, don’t leave me. Where are you?”

There’s a sharp edge on the concrete you’re trying to push away. It slices your palm open when you push it away. Somehow, you don’t pay any mind to it.

Alastor takes your hand, and kneels on the ground with you. “I’m right here,” he says, and shows the two rings around his finger. “I’m not leaving until you are.”

You pull on his hand, but Alastor grips it tighter. “I have to look for it,” you say, weakly. “It’s important.”

There’s a handkerchief in his pocket that has his name on it. Alastor takes it out, studying the stitches. It’s one of hundreds that you’ve gifted him. Actual hundreds. He counted each and every one.

“Nothing is more important than you.” Alastor wraps the handkerchief around your hand, holding it tightly. “Late me take you, and I promise I will turn every stone in this pathetic building to find whatever it is you’re looking for. It’s not worth your life. Not to me.”

Alastor presses his forehead on your shoulder, curling into you. Shadows pool around, and it grows with his command.

You’re pushing on his shoulders, trying to squeeze out of his hold. “Alastor…no, no. Please!”

He doesn’t listen to a single word. The shadows grow higher. Alastor tightens his grip on your waist, even as you push him away.

“Alastor, no,” you beg him, still pushing on his shoulders. “It’s right there. I found it. It’s right there. Please, let me get it. Let me get it, and we can leave. Please!”

The shadows stop. They recede back into him. It heeds into your demand because your lips were not meant to beg.

Alastor peels himself off your shoulders, swiping your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me where it is.”

You point towards a flipped couch, near the edge of where the building cuts in half. Alastor places a hand on your shoulder when you try to stand.

“Stay here, it’s safer,” he tells you, and your eyes scrunch as he brushes more dust off your face. “If I get it for you, will you finally stop being ridiculous by pushing me away?”

Your head tilts as you lean into his palm, but you nod. It seems you still can’t fully hear him. Alastor goes to get it for you. It’s propped up right at the edge. It’s good that he went. You could have tripped and fell right over.

The box is smooth against his fingers, and the paint has long faded away. All this fuss for such a simple box? Alastor doesn’t understand why you treasure such an item.

He tosses it, and the box lands on your lap.

There’s relief in your eyes as you grab it, and a smile forms on your lips when you check what’s inside. You look around, eyes fluttering until it lands on him.

Alastor’s smile widens into a snarl before he controls himself. Not you—never you. He offers a hand. “We’re leaving, now,” he says. “I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.”

A crack echoes across the walls.

You take a step towards him, reaching your hands to try and meet him halfway. Alastor will take you out of here. Somewhere safer. Somewhere that doesn’t threaten the life of his very reason for existing.

The Hazbin Hotel.

The war with heaven.

Freedom from his deal.

None of it will matter if you weren’t safe. Everything he’s done so far will become useless.

Another loud crack.

The tips of your fingers are so close. If he can just reach it, Alastor can take you out of here. He can bring you to solid ground where you will be safe. Just one step, and you will be safe.

One last sickening crack, and the floor crumbles beneath you. There’s a soft smile on your lips as the shadows claim what belongs to him.

Beautiful.

You are beautiful.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Some of you really wanted Alastor to fuck around and find out. So this is him fucking around and finding out. I have the ability to do the funniest thing ever and just…end the series here <3. Reader fell and that’s it. The end. Gosh, I really hope at least one of you know how K and AAA are taken from Lys. T___T Id be such a nerd if at least one of you didn’t huhuhuhuhu Writing for Alastor is like, just so fun. He’s such a meticulous character so everything he says and the way he says it has a double meaning. Taglist: @mybrainsautocorrect @ray-rook @valentique @qardasngan @valentique @teavibesaf @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @reikamasama @slaggylemon @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @littledolly2345 @b-o-n-e-daddy @infinitefox @ayyyyyy-vase @kny-kween @thehiddenvase @stclen-sweethearts @obessivlyonline

[claudemblems]

Cloud + Reno Flirting Headcanons | FFVII

Summary: How they flirt with you at the beginning vs. a long time into your relationship. Fem!Reader.

Notes: I've been in a huge Cloud Strife loving mood (probably because I recently finished CCR) and I'm also just coping with the fact that I don't have a PS5 to play Rebirth AAA

Cloud Strife

Beginning of the Relationship

Honestly, he's not even sure how he managed to win your heart in the first place. Poor boy is confused

He has absolutely no experience when it comes to romance, much less flirting but that's what happens when your life is full of unresolved trauma + Sephiroth

And, in his own words, he has "no good qualities" besides knowing how to swing a sword

A lot of time is spent in his room practicing pick-up lines in the mirror and then cringing at himself because oh gosh he's just so AWKWARD has he always been like this???

He only tried learning how to flirt in the first place in order to impress you and because that's what "normal couples do" but he soon realized he's not normal and it's best to just leave it at that

Eventually he just gives up and treats you like he normally does. Soft glances, lingering touches, and the occasional smile when he's feeling especially fond

Thankfully you don't seem to mind his, but part of him still feels guilty that he's not as romantic with you as he could be

Established Relationship

Over time Cloud's figured out how to flirt with you in his own way

His quiet observations have led him to figure out what sorts of things you like and what specifically makes you all flustered

On that note, one of Cloud's favorite things now is making you turn into a blushing mess

He's not usually so bold, but the sight of you hiding your face in your hands and stumbling on your words makes his heart do backflips

He's not saying it out loud, but internally he's crying over how cute you are

And he's not even doing anything super flirty. He just does his usual thing but turns it up a notch, and it works like a charm

Soft glances turn into unabashed stares. Lingering touches turn into hands trailing down your waist or jawline. Smiles turn into lips pressed against your cheek, already over and done with before you can register what happened 

Without fail, you're left wearing a flustered expression, unable to form the right words in response. And it inflates Cloud's ego. Just a little bit

Reno

Beginning of the Relationship

It's no secret that Reno's universally known as a shameless flirt, but now that he's involved with you, he becomes even more shameless than before

He pulls out all the stops to elicit a reaction from you. Not only does it fill him with pride knowing he has such effect on you, but he also just finds your facial expressions to be incredibly adorable. And he WILL tell you that

Whether it's a hand on your thigh during meetings or whispered words against your ear in the hallways, he never passes up an opportunity to make you flustered

However, you should know that none of his words are shallow or spoken half-heartedly. When he calls you lovely or breathtaking, he means every word he says

He would never tell you something he doesn't mean, so no rejecting his compliments, okay? You deserve to have nice things said about you

And he always makes sure to say something sweet to you every single morning

Just seeing that gorgeous smile appear on your face lifts his spirits. He wouldn't trade your happiness for anything

Established Relationship

After a while, Reno tones down on the flirting, but he's still the same suave romancer you know him to be

Now that he's with you, he just feels like he doesn't have to try so hard, you know?

It's not that he didn't enjoy flirting with you at every given moment in the beginning. It just sunk in one day that you're his, and no one is ever going to take you away from him

Now he knows that all it takes to make you flustered is a sincere "I love you" falling from his lips. What you want is something real and genuine, and the same goes for him

He still pulls tricks on you if only to see you glaring at him all red in the face, but his romantic gestures have become much more natural

It's a quick kiss on the cheek when he has to go off on a mission, a hand on your waist as you sit on his lap, or a gentle ruffling of your hair when you're playing coy with him

At the end of the day, he knows he doesn't have to prove how much he loves you. You already know you have a place in his heart

And, without question, he knows that he has a place in yours, too

[ivy-is-fine]

Reacting to the Wish soundtrack!

before I watch the movie!

At All Costs

:o a love song?!

title feels more like a villain song

pretty good

Love characters that are ride or die for each other

cant be a Disney movie without a classic love story

cute, but a little repetitive

This Wish

it doesn’t really have good rhythm

”throw caution to every warning sign” ?

wait hang on what are you wishing for

ooo so the town is suffering!

gasp, is she gonna lead a revolution?!

oh sudden change in tempo. Ew.

hm. So there must be a tyrannical leader causing “us” to suffer and/or lack the ability to thrive

I’m A Star

meh

not a fan of the background instruments compared to the voices

i I have no clue what’s happening

main character feeling down and the “us” are helping her get back up?

no freaking clue

”so your dust is my dust, fantastic!” Lmao

idk it just feels really plastic

sounds like something I would hear in vacation bible school

no

This Is The Thanks I Get?!

A villain song! :0 I love villain songs. Let’s hope this one measures up

funky aaa beat

egomaniac

HOLD UP

”I got these genes from outer space” IS THE ANTAGONIST AN ALIEN WOAHHHH SUPER HYPED NOW

low key kinda cringe tho

hang on, what about clothes on Benito’s back???

whos henry

“I let you live here free and I don’t even charge you rent” you just said the same thing twice buddy. Villain not bad? Villain… give free housing to people?

I know it’s an unreliable narrator, but like. if he’s doing what he’s doing I don’t think he’s that bad

maybe not final boss?

just wants respect? Hang on, why aren’t you getting respect?

main chorus isn’t bad, kinda meh

egomainac

disneys poor attempt at using recent slang

background chorus is getting on my nerves

shut yo bitch ass whining up

maybe this is the song where he snaps

oop

hes snapping

suddenly chill? BUT SUPER SPOOKY HUH

meh

I’ll make part two in a little bit, hopefully this doesn’t leave me disappointed in the great monopoly Disney has become.

[starleska]

Hi. You don’t know me (lie) could you write a drabble about Maestro coercing you to sing Phantom of the Opera style, you know the “you’re all mine” kind of thing

ohhhh yes of course i can 😉 i have never seen Phantom of the Opera, so i am substituting it for Poor Unfortunate Souls in The Little Mermaid 😂💖 this is suggestive! content warnings for invasion of personal space, being tied up, and threats 😉

Open Wide - Maestro x Reader 🎶💖

"The time to sing is now, darling—and I won't take NO for an answer!" Thick musical staffs made living encased your body, mummifying you and compressing your ribcage to the point of pain. Helpless, you'd dangled for hours and screamed 'til your throat turned raw. But such sounds were appetisers to an entity like Maestro: a monster in a conductor's gown, with a face beat for a god.

"But I can't..." you whimpered. "But I CAN'T~!" Maestro wheedled back in an exaggerated mockery of your voice. "Don't lie to me, sweetie. I can see all that delicious music of yours...it's all knotted up inside you, juuuuust here!" Maestro tapped your chest with the tip of their baton, and a cruel smirk graced their flawless lips. "Such...delicate songs," they whispered. "Almost as fragile as the body they were made in. Far too breakable for me to extract...so we're doing this the old-fashioned way." Maestro's voice lilted and purred like the ocean caressing a wayward ship, and with the same amount of danger. Their register waxed and waned between high and low, sharp and dull, girlish and masc, in a dizzying concord which made heat bloom in your cheeks. Up close, you found it difficult to focus on Maestro at all. It's as if the gorgeous ginger bombshell speaking those words was but a lure on an anglerfish, and the real Maestro sat contained within that honey-nectar voice. Your resolve weakened. Distantly, you heard Maestro laugh in a raucous way: the drunken laugh of tavern songs. The next time you blinked, Maestro loomed in front of you, their eyes heavy-lidded and their lips all plush and coy. "Why don't you open that pretty little mouth for me, sugar~?" Maestro didn't give you time to reply. They shoved their exquisitely manicured nails into the crevices of your cheeks and pried apart your lips, like they wanted to crawl down your throat. You gasped and tried to kick back, but Maestro was too quick for you: another musical staff lashed out like a whip and bound you at the knees.

"NO!"

The violence of Maestro's yell mere inches from your face made you cringe. Your whole body tensed, then slackened. Shuddering breaths left your open mouth as Maestro's thumb slipped inside and pressed down against your tongue. You stared into their wide, wild eyes, and saw a madness within Maestro which no song could ever contain. "Try that again, and I promise you, I will drain you dry of everything that makes you human. Understood?" Your heart hammered in your throat. Saliva gathered around the intruding digit in your mouth, and you fought every impulse to close your lips around it. Horrified, you nodded. "Now." Maestro's voice teetered with rage. "Say aaaaaa." "Aaa-aaaa-aaaaah~!" And you sang. Somehow, the most stunning melody poured from your previously untalented mouth. Maestro slipped their index and middle fingers past your lips and began massaging your tongue whilst tapping their nails against your teeth. With each slight manipulation of your mouth, Maestro altered the pitch, cadence, and beauty of your voice. It was the most wonderful thing you'd ever heard. You felt like you might pass out. How were you capable of singing like this?! "Mmm~," Maestro murmured approvingly. "There we go. That wasn't so tough, was it, babycakes~? I don't know how you could be so shy with such an...irresistible voice..." Maestro's staffs squeezed you on irresistible, and a full-body shudder wracked your insides, sending a tremor through your still-singing mouth. Hunger flashed in Maestro's eyes, and a wolfish grin cracked the symmetry of their lipstick. "I wonder what you taste like~?"

[where-dreamers-go]

Man. You know what. I just really need more dad Eragon. What about him being in in the middle of training the riders with like this infant strapped to his chest. No one can concentrate. Baby starts crying. This calls for CUDDLES

“Training Baby”

(A/N: The sudden urge to draw the image that’s in my mind… I doodled in the margins. Hi! Eragon with an infant is pretty cute. Even if I think of it attempting to be the Lee Shang in Disney’s Mulan before the song. lol Warnings: none. Word Count: 423 words)

Clear skies and temperate weather led the leader of the Dragon Riders to hold training outdoors. Some fresh air was good, healthy.

Eragon knew that he, himself, could not be inside the fortress forever. Nor could he be outside and away from his little one for too long. A personal choice and a necessity.

He was needed almost everywhere.

“Now remember,” Eragon paced slowly in front of the other Riders, “even without a traditional weapon, you can attack or defend yourself with the aid of magic. The more complicated or difficult the spell, the more of your energy will be used. Be mindful of yourself.”

Before him, the Riders were silent. Gazes watching his every move.

A small, insistent whine pierced his ears.

Eragon lightly patted the bundle of fabrics strapped to his torso. He was awarded with quiet from his infant. His companion for the day.

Remaining indoors had not been a possibility.

Eragon cleared his throat and continued. “Even a blade of grass could aid a Rider as a weapon given the speed or sharpness. There may come moments where you must—”

“Ahh.” His baby spoke up.

“—think quickly—”

“Wahh ahh.”

“—and be creative—”

“Aaa!”

Eragon cringed as his baby’s cries continuously struck his sensitive ears.

He raised his voice to the Riders as they gawked at the infant. “Be creative with your words. Carefully. Take a rest period.” Eragon dismissed them as he turned his full attention to his baby.

“WAAH!”

“Easy, my little one.” Eragon patted them gently as he walked into the shade of a tree. “What’s the matter?”

The infant grabbed at his shirt as they cried.

“Was I boring you? Too loud?” He ran his fingers over their head as their cries subsided. “I was teaching. It’s my responsibility.”

They babbled, looking up at him.

“I can’ play all day.”

“Ah.”

“I know,” Eragon wrapped his arms around the precious bundle, “it’s silly, but it’s true.”

“Uhhoo.”

He chuckled.

What a responsible, silly, and magical life Eragon lived. So full of possibilities. Knowledge that could progress them along and love that could surprise him.

“Ah.”

“What?”

“Ahhoo.”

Eragon kissed the top of their head and earned a delighted giggle in return. “Is that what you want?” He kissed the infant’s forehead. “I see you smiling.”

“Wah Ahaha!”

“I knew it.”

Eragon, grinning widely, peppered his dear infant with affection and silly voices. It was necessary. Perhaps not to some, but why would he possibly care about that when his little one was filled with abundant joy?

~~~

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Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok says that Vulcan children are very well behaved and have a lot of emotional control by the time they’re ~elementary school aged which makes sense but also makes me want to see what a Vulcan toddler or kindergartener acts like since they can’t be reasoned with as well (can’t really meditate) + are babies and also brimming with near irrepressible violence/emotions.

Vulcan toddler is just quietly accompanying their parent along on an errand. They stop and point to a toy of some sort and ask politely if they can have it. Their parent explains that they have enough toys at home. The toddler immediately throws the tantrum of the century. Just turns into an absolute wild animal in their rage. Other Vulcans are just like “aaa I remember when my children were that age” but any aliens around are like “oh my god is that thing OK??” I imagine even older Vulcan children would have issues with emotional control given that they’re also children! Though they’d of course know they needed to control themselves and behave...sometimes you just slip up. Vulcan children are playing together harmoniously. Then one breaks the established rules of the game. “I made contact with your arm. You are now the chaser.” “You did not make contact with my arm. I dodged your attempt.” “You dodged unsuccessfully. I made contact with your arm.” “I did not.” “You are cheating.” “I believe you are the one cheating.” And an adult has to rush over as one pounces on the other and they both begin screaming and clawing at each other’s eyes. The rest of the children are watching with interest or perhaps grabbing implements to assist their friend.  Little lapses in emotional control would probably be common until they reached like....highschool age. I can imagine an eleven year old Vulcan hearing they can’t sleepover a friend’s home and immediately shattering a vase before apologizing and cleaning it up.  It also seems like bullying would be very prevalent on Vulcan. Spock is canonically bullied frequently and it seems natural that Violent, Extreme Emotions in teenagers would lead to that kind of behavior which isn’t outwardly unacceptable (like crying, laughing, etc) but still satisfies an illogical desire towards cruelty and establishing dominance.  Vulcans schools probably have so many ‘Bullying Is Illogical’ seminars that do nothing and everyone makes fun of behind their teacher’s backs. Two Vulcan teenagers bullying each other, trying to see who has the more emotional reaction. If you cry or get mad you lose. Only babies cry and get mad...seems pretty illogical(cringe).  Vulcans seem to be very focused on respectability so I’m sure that as bloodthirsty teens there would be a lot of accusations and rules...if you hang out with X then Z,H and Y won’t talk to you. If you apologize too soon then they might accuse you of behaving too emotionally and gossip about you...if you don’t apologize at all they might accuse you of behaving too emotionally and gossip about you. It’s very stressful. Tuvok also said when he was a teenager in that one flashback that he was ready to fight over the girl he had a crush on (saying he’d “issue a challenge” or something) so I’m implementing that into my personal understanding of Vulcans...like adults do NOT want these kids to fight but amongst other teens they’re like:  “Seynar is my boyfriend.” “I disagree. He sat next to me during meditation three times this week.” “Only because I was absent.” “Then he is fickle and will be mine soon enough.” And then they challenge one another to a secret duel after school. Dueling to the death is very cool and grownup v_v (teens rarely die from such duels though bc either the other teen stops or someone told an adult). It makes sense to me that teenagers with violent urges would fight one another in a way that they consider acceptably adult. (mimicking the marriage ritual thing or even pon farr...romantic and cool.) Imagine being a teen Vulcan and your crush starts hinting that they have another person who might be interested in them....hmmm.....and you know you’re gonna have to duel for them or lose em. Such is life. Vulcan teens seem like they’d either date a lot (emotional whims) very non seriously (because they’re all betrothed) or date not at all because they’re gonna get married to their betrothed anyway. Loving someone other than your fated match is probably a pretty big trope in Vulcan romance stories...or maybe the opposite? Like someone bad tries to steal your heart but you remain resolute and return to your fated match as is logical. Anyway all this to say that I think Vulcan children and emotional control is something that’s fun to think about. Especially regarding how Vulcan children would act around adults vs other children. Vulcan child to adult: I will do my best to get along with my sibling. (2 seconds later once mother has left)  Vulcan child: You may play with the red toy. If you play with the blue toy I will harm you. Bodily. Meanwhile their older sibling is rolling their eyes like ugh....threatening violence is for babies....now to prepare for my logical and very adult duel for the love of my life whom I have known for three months. v_v

[lollytea]

I don't know if anyone has said this before, or who came up with the idea but Hunter would absolutely be the kind of person to doodle himself and willow as wolves and in love whilst kicking his feet and giggling (as soon as someone else walks in though he would be throwing the entire book out the window)

It's so funny because Hunter has a tendency to talk to himself. He's very loud. But I think he'd be drawing his little wolfsonas and getting so giddy and overwhelmed by the thought of it that he is rendered incapable of even articulating what he's feeling but he still has to make some noise.

He's so embarrassed that he's doing this and also he's so PUMPED by how much fun he's having and he's jittery with how smitten he is with his little self indulgent wolf au and he's getting a thrill from it because there's nobody around to stop him and nobody will ever know. He is cringe but he is free. So he's overstimulated, he's kicking, he's giggling, he's squealing a little, he's trying to make words but all that's coming out like "WHAT IF-!!" *scribbles a green streak in wolf!Willow's fur* "SO COOL!! IT'S--JUST GOTTA--AAA!!! TEETH!!!" *makes wolf!Hunter's teeth sharper* "YES!! YESSS!!!!!"

Like he's trying to be low-key about it cuz this is supposed to be a secret but the whole fucking house can hear him. They're politely ignoring the racket he's causing.

He's like a little mad scientist bringing his creation to life. Except his creation happens to be his drawings of him and the girl he likes as wolves nuzzling together.

That's the kicker here that's making him go fucking bonkers. Hunter draws wolves all the time and he shoves them in the face of everybody who will look but drawing himself and Willow being affectionate wolves is a HUGELY personal thing. Hunter's equivalent of pouring his heart out in a love letter or whatever.

And God if Willow happened to catch him in the act and he's got nowhere to throw it, he might be inclined to eat the fucking sketchbook. He was SO in the zone and SO gushy that Willow sneaking up on him spooked out a full blown scream of terror. His whole face is set fucking ablaze. All he can really do with the sketchbook is drop it, fucking lunge after it and clumsily scrabble to make a grab for it before it hits the floor and clutch the stupid thing close against his chest like it's his first born, still heaving as he recovers from his fright.

Willow hadn't meant to scare him, she just wanted to see what he was doing. He was usually excited to show her his little drawings. He'd also blush really bad when she complimented them, which was super cute, so Willow usually sought out stuff to praise him for. Wasn't hard. He WAS the coolest dude ever.

Willow can absolutely tell he's embarrassed and she assumes it's because he doesn't think his latest drawing is very good. He often points out when he messes up proportions or other errors, so it's not unlike him to be shy about showing others art he's not proud of.

"Can I see your drawing?" She asks with a soft smile. She has no intention of pushing it if he says no, but she's always curious to see the stuff he makes.

But a detail Willow hasn't entirely grasped yet (she gets the basics) is that the softer her voice gets, the harder it is for Hunter to tell her no. He can clearly tell she's not pressuring him into anything. He can tell she's giving him plenty of an option to keep this to himself. She's always just SO nice to him and ugghhhh!!!!

Completely mute, eyed locked on the floor, ears scalding, Hunter ends up handing her the sketchbook.

And Willow goes completely fucking batshit insane.

"Is this us??" She demands, pumped as hell. "Is this us as beasts??? That's so fucking cool!!! Look at sharp your teeth are, look how awesome my hair looks!!!" She catches him by the face and squeezes his cheeks "You are SO talented!!!"

Willow praises him RELENTLESSLY and Hunter's just there like

He really does gobble her attention up. He really does. Gets him all floaty and smiley for hours afterwards. Nerd.

Anyway Willow is obviously aware he has a bit of a thing for her but she doesn't know a lot about wolves. So the specifics of their little affectionate touches in the doodles completely fly over her head.

"Are our wolf selves friends?" She asks "Is that why we're hugging like that?"

Hunter's ears light up like poppies and, knowing full well that he added those gestures of affection with the idea in mind that their wolfsonas were mated for life, decides to choke out "Um. Yeah. We're friends."

Its not technically a lie. They're just very good friends.

Anyway Hunter nearly fucking faints later that day when Willow tucks her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzles into it then smiles up at him and says "It's just like we're wolves :D 💕"

[jokerstrider]

woe cringe be upon ye! (sorry, but this man deserves so many hugs)

Edit: The skin color is a little different from canon because I accidentally used a screenshot with a filter as a reference and didn't notice it, Aaa!! Sorry :(( it wasn't intentional

[shesacarver]

wanna ship joshler so bad but all my friends think its cringy and idk what to do aaa bc whenever i get into smn like that i wanna talk about it but i cant. because cringe :( it just sucks (i dont really care about being cringe i think mostly it's bc i wont have anyone to talk to abt this silly little ship in my brain)

brother . ur friends should accept & embrace & encourage ur cringe :/

But my personal dms are open if you ever wanna talk ! i will never turn someone away . shrug emoji

i also know tht Most of tumblr clique is made of like . avid joshler enjoyers . it’s like fork found in kitchen over here … and everyone’s super nice ! we’re all active here on tumblr ( obviously ) but there’s also a discord server i could point u to if ur interested anon ^_^

[averytirednerd]

silly movie review (if you can call it that)

Disclaimer: This is all just a silly little review based completely on my personal opinions and how I viewed the movie. I’m also not supporting anything bad the actors in this movie may or may not have done. I just enjoyed the silly ☹️

I watched ‘Wonka (2023)’ for the first time earlier today.

Absolutely life-changing for the following reason:

Seeing Mathew Baynton as an evil chocolatier in a polycule with other evil chocolatiers. It’s something I never knew I always needed.

Oh yeah, the songs are actually pretty good too. I liked them. They kinda had a sort of ‘Hazbin effect’ (if ykyk) though. Some of the best scenes and character moments come from the songs. Not complaining, just a thing I noticed.

I didn’t have high expectations going into this movie, didn’t watch a single trailer, only heard negatives reviews/comments about it. That might have made the bar low, but idk I enjoyed it.

It is a silly movie. It’s decent. You have to lean into the cringe to enjoy it. I promise if you suck it up and allow yourself some willing suspension of disbelief as well, you might just enjoy yourself. I know I did for a bit.

Meme Time:

(Credit to the creators ofc)

(said creators—at least to my knowledge—can be found through my Pinterest account, sorry there’s not a more effective way aaa)

[frenziedslashers]

Ayo! Ima be honest there, this fic with wounded Handsome Jack x Reader was the first one where I didn't skip a single word, like aaa u did it so great!

I had a thought about something oppsite - where it is the reader who gets hurt, and HJ is the one saving them and taking care... likeeee AAA.... it could be fluff, or something more dramatic and bloody, whatever you thing would be great :D I just can see it written great by your talented hands

This literally made me smile so much??? I am so scared to post Jack content because I always feel like I butcher his character (I have a couple drafts that I have been working on. They are pretty much ready to post, I'm just a little scared. I swear I am not ignoring the Jack asks 👹). I am honored that you liked it that much though! As someone who has read nearly all the xReader Borderlands content on ao3, I totally get that... Some nice I had to skip paragraphs because it was either too ooc or just... Odd... I forget how scary some borderlands fans are 😟 There are a lot of pics on there that I adore, but I feel like every fandom has those pics that you just physically cannot finish. So I am glad that my Jack was good enough 💪💪 ALSO thank you for the love homie. glad you sent in a request! I love me some angst that leads to fluff 😌

Flying Bullets:

"More incoming!" Jack screamed over your com, a grunt leaving your throat as you slammed your body against a crate in a poor attempt to avoid the bullets that flew overhead. You had no idea how you got yourself into this mess. Let alone with Handsome Jack. You knew he was bad news. Everyone despised him, but you still saw him as John, who simply worked with you for Hyperion and was incidentally your best friend as well.

You saw him as the guy who you would sit with alone for lunch break. The both of you talking and laughing over nothing. The friend that would take you out for drinks after a hard day of work and even hit on you here or there. Though, nothing serious ever happened between the two of you.

"Kiddo, answer me!" You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Jack's voice screaming into your ears. It made you flinch, a cringe settling on your face. "I hear you, Jackie." You responded, shooting a couple times at the Raiders that ran out into your line of sight.

"Are you able to get to where I'm at?" You huffed a bit. As if you would know exactly where he was without him sharing his coordinates. "Where's your location?" "I'm up near the front gate. If you get here we can get to a ship out of this shit hole and back to Helios!" He spoke, and you groaned again. Your shield was low and broken. It wasn't recharging anymore. A problem that you were almost scared to tell Jack. The confrontation would go either one of two ways. He'd freak out, worry, and throw himself into the line of fire to make sure you were safe. Or he'd freak out, worry, and then yell at you for being so stupid and agreeing to go with him to Pandora with a shitty shield.

"Can you do that?" You pondered, "I can try."

It was a hard task to complete. You figured if you did die in this fight you may as well go out guns-a-blazin'. Shooting round after round into the Crimson Raiders that tried to take you down. You nearly made it to Jack, too. If it weren't for a Raider you missed shooting you once, breaking your shield. Then twice, a fatal shot to your back.

The scream that ripped from your chest had your head pounding, and Jack's heading whipping towards you.

"Kid," He stammered, "Kiddo? Pumpkin?" His voice wavered, and then something clicked in the guy. If your vision wasn't blurry from the pain as you lay on the ground. You would have seen the glint of rage behind the mans eyes. The way his face shifted from concern to pure rage. It made the few remaining Crimson Raiders freeze up. Knowing Jack was going to be putting up a hell of a fight.

Screams and gunfire were all you could hear in your ringing ears. You could hardly decipher the screams of the dying to Jack's war cries. If you weren't dying yourself, you might actually feel a bit scared, but right now you could hardly care. Gasping and wincing while lying helplessly on the ground. You could hardly move without your whole body sending shocks of pain through itself.

"Hey, hey," His hand on your back made you cry out again. You hadn't even noticed that Jack was at your side now. Attempting to tend to your wounds to get you back home. Back to Helios where you would be safe and someone could save you. "I know, I have to look at it!" He snapped, but quickly cleared his throat. "Dammit, sorry. I just need to see it. I'm not trying to hurt you, pumpkin." He told you, trying his best to be careful while he moved your clothing up so he could see the wound a bit better. Your cries making him wince himself. You'd think he would have been shot, too. Just from hearing the pathetic noises you were making.

"Oh shit, God this is bad. Why didn't you tell me your shield was low? I could have came to you!" There it was. Option one of how you expected him to react if you would have told him your shield was down. You wanted to smile, laugh a little at how well you knew your friend, but your thoughts were quickly pushed aside when Jack decided to apply pressure. A scream left your throat, and your vision went blurry. It was too hard to stay awake no matter how much Jack pleaded with you to keep your eyes open. You hadn't realized how much he really cared for you until you were nearly meeting your Maker. Vision finally blurring enough that all you could see was black. Your senses dulling, succumbing to the darkness once you passed out in his arms.

Jack had no idea that you had just passed out, though. He thought you died, but that didn't stop him from picking your body up from the ground to carry you back to the ship. He was just thankful that he had people on there to pilot it for him, and some health to at least give you a slight boost until the two of you made it back to Helios.

He refused to let you go until those doors opened. Continuing to apply pressure after he had wrapped his belt and one of his jackets awkwardly around your middle to help stall the bleeding. There was so much blood. His clothes were soaked. His skin was sticky with sweat and blood. The thing of it is, he didn't even know if it was all your blood. Some of it had to be from the Raiders he killed after you were shot. His anger getting the best of him like it regularly did.

"Sir, you need to let them go." He looked up at the nurse in front of him. "What?" His voice was shaky. "I need you to let them go and put them on the table now before they lose any more blood. I need to get them into the infirmary, now." They stated sternly, and Jack nodded with understanding. Laying you reluctantly on the bed. These were his own men and women working for him, but he was so scared to trust them with you. You were the only good thing he had left that was connected to his old life, rather than Angel. You were almost a better memory holder than she was, though. With her being the reason her mother died and all.

It wasn't until later that night, nearly five hours later that Jack was informed that you were in Critical, but stable condition. He knew you wouldn't be able to help him with his plans for the next coming weeks, and honestly, he was glad. Not that he didn't enjoy your help, he just always worried about your safety. This call was too close for comfort. It nearly made him postpone his plans of finding the Vault, too. If it weren't for the fact that he was literally the man's most wanted by the Vault Hunters themselves. That didn't stop him from trying to take care of you to the best of his abilities, though. Even going as far as sending people to check up on you when he was away from Helios.

"Jack," you would say his name, and he would be there. Holding your hand, offering food, water, entertainment, whatever it was you asked. He was giving it to you. You were his light after all. The brightest star in his galaxy. Even if he didn't show you how much he cared, often. He truly did.

It was almost weird for you. He was always so snarky and rude with you. Even if you knew that was just how he showed his affection. How he told you that he loved and appreciated you as a friend without telling you those exact words. You almost weren't sure if you liked how nice he was being with you.

"Why haven't you called me an idiot." He looked up from the book in his hands over to you with raised brows. "Excuse me?" "When I nearly got myself killed. I expected you to at least call me stupid for it. I didn't tell you my shield was broken and not recharging, and yet here you are. Being all sweet and nice to me. It's kind of scary, honestly... You aren't a doppelgänger, are you?" Jack smiled as he placed his book down in his lap. "Well, now that you say it. I did forget to tell you how utterly idiotic that stunt was and if you ever go pulling it again I will personally revive you just to shoot you again." Jack told you, and that caused a smile to form on your own features. There he was. "Oh, so I should have just ignored direct orders?" He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "No, you should have told me what was happening and I could have come to help. You really think I like putting you at risk?" Well, it seemed like it. With the number of close calls you have had, and then this.

He sighed at your lack of a response. "I don't. I really don't. I only take you along because I know you'd find a way fighting those assholes without me or with me. I may as well be there to revive you when you decide to do something stupid." You rolled your eyes this time. "Didn't realize you actually cared about me." He froze up when you said that. You were only joking, and you thought that he could tell, but obviously that seemed to strike a chord with the man before you.

"Oh, so you think I don't care about you either? What the hell has the past few weeks been? I've laid off finding the fricken Vault for you! I've been by your side, making sure you don't die on me and you think I don't care about you?" He shouted, tossing his book to the side while standing to his feet. "Why don't you fill me in on what it is I feel about you then. Why every time I see you I want to blow my brains out because of how much I care about you. Shit, it's annoying, honestly!" Jack started approaching you. Slight more weight to his steps than usual. Obviously pissed and growing more so by the second. "I could have left you to die." He told you, a slight grin on his face as he laughed out of disbelief for himself. "Hell! I would have left any one of my other employees or skilled assassins there to die! But I just couldn't fricken leave you there, now could I? Not when you're the one real thing that I have anymore."

Your eyes were wide. Staring up at the man who was looming over you as you lay on the bed. You looked a little scared, but you were more so taken aback by his words. Yeah, he was basically saying he would have left you for dead if the two of you didn't have a connection, but he was also admitting things that you never thought you'd hear from him.

"I don't mean to yell," Even though that seemed to be the only thing he knew how to do. "I just... I hate that you would even suggest that I don't care about you. I mean, c'mon! Look at everything we've been through!" He exclaimed as he sat on the bed beside you.

Yeah. Everything the two of you have been through. Working together. Getting fired together. Jack gaining power. You gaining power through Jack. Late nights together. Even an attempted date before his ex had come along. It was a lot, and you regretted making him think that you thought he didn't care.

"Jack, I'm sorry. I was just joking around." You admitted, reaching out to grab his hand. His eyes darted down and then back up to study your face. "Could you ever forgive me?" He pondered, a smile creeping on his lips. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I could forgive a cute thing like you." A sigh left your lips, tapping the top of his hand. "If I didn't know any better. I'd say you were flirting with me, Jackie." The way you purred out his name in such a teasing way made his blood boil. Out of annoyance at the nickname, and slight excitement from just the sound. "Well, I could be if you wanna interpret it that way, pumpkin." His hand reached up to brush your chin with his thumb. "I think it's your turn to be called out for your ignorance of my own emotions." His brows furrowed, sighing at his dumbfounded expression.

"So... Was that a yes?" "Jack," "Huh?" "You're as oblivious as the day I met you." He stared at you for a moment longer. "I'm saying yes, Jack. Jesus Christ and you're supposed to be the flirt of Helios?" He let out a groan of his own before carefully maneuvering himself over top of you so he could lay on the other side of you on the bed. "Oh shut it, you're the one overcomplicating shit." He huffed, carefully pulling you close to him to hint that the both of you needed a nap. Whether you wanted one or not. "Just shut up and sleep. We can talk about our stupid emotions later. You ruined the moment by calling me an idiot." "Oh, like you haven't been calling me one for the past 10 minutes. Plus I didn't even call you one!" "Well, that's different, and yes you basically did. I'm not arguing further." "Fine."