#so sorry if I got things wrong

[scatterbrainedart]

Izzy Hands’ inability to get a single fucking win in any given situation has captivated me. He’s so SAD. Brother literally cannot catch a break for the life (or death) of him. I wanna be silly about him, but he’s such a sad goddamn character that I just can’t. It just feels wrong. Like, who am I to kick at someone who is already down? And who pretty much has been down since ep 2 at BEST? Sigh.

I adore inner conflict in a character, I eat that shit UP. Outer conflict is nice too, but ohhh. Love me a good worst-enemy-is-oneself trope. Realistically, that’s more so Ed than Izzy, but still. I think it’s the contrast that does it, too.

Izzy is so terribly loyal it hurts. He just has so much bottled up for the entirety of the first season, so many things that he’s repressed that all feeds into his bitterness. That, within itself, is really interesting in a character. Let’s start with his feelings of Ed. He starts of the series smug, confident. He looks up to Ed, as pretty much everyone do. He’s the one person he doesn’t mind being “inferior” to. He’s built up this image of Blackbeard in his mind (which is precisely what Ed struggled with the most part. The way his reputation has outgrown him in a multitude of ways) which he puts on such a high pedestal. Working together with the mighty Blackbeard is an honour. He adores him, and he’s very much pleased with the role he’s serving beside him.

Then in comes Stede, who is everything Blackbeard and Izzy is not. Or at least so it seems, until his whole fucking world has been turned upside down and everything he treasured has been snatched right out of his grasp. Then, to make matters worse, when Stede finally is out of the picture and things should be able to go back the way they were, they don’t. For a while, he could at least hold onto the idea that there was hope, that time would work its magic and things would revert back to normalcy. But it only gets worse, and worse, until it’s undeniably so much worse than it was at the former worst moment.

And the barriers start to melt away. Izzy isn’t dumb, he’s always quite aware of the situation he finds himself in. Even he, the former worst enabler of Blackbeards pirate shenanigans, knows when it’s time to stop. And so he takes on a somewhat more caring role, because he cares. He cares more about Ed than most, and he knows him better than most. Even when he’s unpredictable, and when Izzy himself thinks of him as a stranger. He still knows him better than most of the crew, to the extent in which Ed has allowed it. There is a lot of Ed that Izzy doesn’t know, but I’d imagine he knows the way he functions off by heart. The way his brain works, the way he plans, his mannerisms, stuff like that. Stuff you learn by paying close attention to someone as you spend every day together for years. And stuff you need to learn to survive in an abusive relationship, or in a relationship with someone unstable, in order to keep the water’s calm.

Izzy cares. It comes naturally to him, at least it probably did once. And now, after all that has happened all of him that has been broken down, it shines through again. It seeps out of the cracks of his crushed self, where every part of him is on display in a way he can’t or doesn’t bother to control anymore.

Despite everything, he shows mercy to Ed.

Despite everything, he teaches Stede how to survive (when it wouldn’t have been unexpected of him to want him dead at this point, again).

Despite everything, he lies about the ruined portrait to protect Stede’s perception of Ed.

Despite everything, he tries to move on and move forth.

Despite everything, he helps. He tries to make amends about things that were or weren’t his fault.

And despite everything, despite how much he pushes it away and tries to act like he doesn’t, he wants nothing as much as he wants something gentle. Something kind. He has gotten so much harm done to him by people he trusts, people he trusted and people he doesn’t trust at all. Every touch he’s ever received, to our eyes, has been one with the means of harm.

In season one I enjoyed seeing his homophobic homosexual messiness unfold, and his misery was all good fun. This season? I just wanna lay him to be cozy in a bed somewhere and give him some soup and a kiss on the forehead and tell him it’s gonna be okay. What the hell man.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

alternate apocalypse ending or something who the hcrist knows anymore

[turtletoria]

the krampus incident from the book of bill if it was out of character and stupid

[monofazz]

I think Deceptibee AU fans should consider the hilarious potential of a Starscream and Bee dynamic in this kind of situation—

[xoxochb]

heyyy i love ur writing SO much and i had this idea last night... could you write something about percy teaching aphrodite!reader how to kiss with tongue 😵‍💫

holy shit anon

cw: heavyyy ass make out, reader n percy aren’t in an established relationship

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“well, the first thing you should do is relax and close your eyes.”

you frown. “what if I can’t relax?“

“the person you’re kissing should be someone you’re completely ready to do this with, you should be relaxed around them.”

“okay…” you sigh, looking up to the cabin ten ceiling, adorned with pretty twinkling lights thanks to your siblings. you fix your head back down to look at percy. “well what’s next?”

“the second step is to tilt your head, you don’t want to clash noses. and start off slow, get used to the feeling, then once you get more comfy with it you can introduce more tongue. and don’t forget to breathe through your nose, that’s important.”

“what happens if I breathe through my mouth by accident?”

“It’s fine… but you’ll run out of breath quicker. you’ll just have to break the kiss to regain it and it kinda ruins the moment.”

“oh.”

“do you want- uhm… well, only if you want, but uh- I could… demonstrate if you’d like?”

your eyes widen slightly. “you want to… kiss me?”

“yeah, but only if you want me to!” percy blushes feverishly.

“I- sure. that would be nice…” you’re swift to avoid any eye contact. for one, you’ve had a crush on the son of poseidon for as long as you’ve known, and for two, what if you messed things up? would he hate you? would he think you’re an idiot? would he never talk to you again? would he never be friends with you again? what if—

“c’mere.” percy ushers you to sit closer to him. you move yourself so both of your criss-crossed knees touch, practically overlapping each other. “are you sure about this?”

no. but also yes. but also no. “yes, I am.”

he takes in a deep breath, before slowly leaning and and gently placing his lips over yours. he places a steady hand on your jaw to keep you in place as the kiss starts off. he begins at a soft pace, lightly advancing his tongue as he newly explores your mouth. you mirror his motions, your tongues swirling together as one— you’re sure by now you’re getting the hang of it (and you did have a good teacher, at that).

the rooms aura is filled to the brim with the utter sound of progressively growing passionate kisses, over time becoming more intense than the moment before. fully immersed, percy’s hand travels to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulls you closer. you can hear the sounds of only mingling breathes and wet lips intertwined urgently.

his grip on your hair tightens for a moment, eliciting the quietest of moans from you before you feel as is fingers trail down your body, gripping your hips and pulling you atop him. you take this chance to tangle your hands in his hair this time, twirling your fingers around the silky raven strands as you try to eliminate as much space as possible.

“you’re incredible,” he whispers between kisses, his tongues then becoming more insistent, pushing deeper into your mouth (how you haven’t gagged by now is beyond your capacity of understanding). he lowers himself on his back, allowing you to straddle him— enjoy a more comfortable position as your ‘teaching session’ grows more intimate.

you’re pretty sure you’ll ace the test.

[eggwishing]

PEACH BOY ♥️

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[deerspherestudios]

Hello! This is my first ask to anyone,

I hope this isn't considered rude but I think Vida is really cool! And I noticed that when Vida got nervous their dog sorta tapped them on the shoulder/arm with their paw and it reminded me of a service dog ^^ and I wanted to know if that was the case, if not that's cool too then Vida just got a really cool dog

(btw I love this game so much I talk about it all the time) 💚

I didn't want it to be too on the nose but that was actually my intent!!

I tried my best to do research on the matter since I didn't wanna misrepresent both Vida/Alma as a person who needs a service animal and Laika as a service dog herself, so I decided to leave it up to interpretation since I wasn't confident if I could do it correctly.

Personal interpretation below but you can imagine their relationship however you'd like!

But if you'd like to have a different interpretation I highly welcome it!

In my head Laika is an ex-service dog, who happens to get adopted by Vida. While not strictly on duty (meaning people can interact freely with Laika and Vida doesn't mind) she's often accompanying Vida since it helps them a lot when it comes to regulating emotions.

So while Laika wasn't assigned to Vida (is that how it works? /genq) it helps that she's trained to pick up on signs and respond appropriately. I don't know if that's a possible scenario but I just think it's sweet if Vida got lucky with their dog. Like a friend over functionality thing.

[sf3uuf]

I've been thinking about JJBA again...

[parisoonic]

I was reading a sci-fi book featuring Russain cosmonauts and the book mentioned the phrase 'Ни пуха ни пера'. I was tickled by the similarity to 'break a leg' BUT it has a call and response ('Go to hell' or 'to the devil with you') - who doesn't love call and response??

Heavy, you'll get a more playful response when Medic isn't hyper-focusing on the days battle plan.

[quirkedupkicks]

pretty risky plan, but yeah ..

panel redraw/ode to the hero killer arc 💙 no shade version + the ref pic that saved me ->

[domoz]

Madatobi Week Day 1: Court

Hashirama is always eager to use their times at court to espouse the benefits of peace -- he has never delegated anyone come to court in his place before. Madara is not ashamed to admit that this time, he is far more interested to hear what the Senju have to say.

[gurinpotte]

Please more buff aang I'm thirsty 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

well i hope these will quench ya....

i had wayyyy more fun with this than i should have had. i was giggling and kicking my feet nonny, it's my first time doing quenching drawings like that. i'm not that great with manly muscles so i'm sorry for the messyness and mistakes. thank you sm for this ask my dear thirsty anon! also sorry if the kataang wasn't that you expected but in this house we serve kataang at every chance

[takeyourheart]

gonna talk about a lil thing I noticed in p5/p5r about joker and akechi that I think everyone knows but nobody's really mentioned yet.

when it comes to confidants, we sort of make our own opinions about them outside of how joker actually is with them in game (example: mishima. so many people hate him but that's a topic for another day)

but the exception to this is akechi. sure, in p5r's confidant, we still get to choose what to say as part of the Silent Self Insert Protagonist™ shtick, but to my knowledge, we never see joker explicitly have dialogue in the form of thought bubbles revealing his (and not our) thoughts about his friends.

you know who he does acknowledge in his thought bubbles? akechi.

specifically, I'm thinking about 2/2 ("this isn't trivial!" "but akechi will...") and when you go to jazz jin after the palace, to realize joker has kept akechi's glove in his pocket this entire fucking time. and yea sure joker has tons of shit in his pockets, that's how inventory works, but keep in mind he's just having his hands in his pants pockets at this moment. he literally carries around akechi's glove in his regular ass clothing pants pocket.

what I'm trying to say here is that with all the other characters, you're expected to grow to like them. joker doesn't have special dialogue because you're expected to see them as his/your friends, and he doesn't need to establish anything different.

but with akechi, you're most likely going to have mixed feelings about him, and joker is making it very clear that no matter what the player thinks, joker loves akechi, and he wants to do everything in his power to help him. because he's joker, and that's what he does, and what he must do. (another discussion for a different time tbh.)

tldr; joker loves akechi even if the player doesn't. people who think joker dislikes or hates akechi can't read

[haveihitanerve]

I am a proud Bruce Wayne can cook believer so I, a humble tumblr user, request Bruce cooking with his family.

YES. sorry that was loud. But yes 100%. i gotchu

Dick: Dick awoke to the sound of sizzling. He slipped out of bed slowly, padding down the stairs into the kitchen. Alfred was off on a little veteran excursion with old friends, and it was just him and Bruce in the manor for the week.

Bruce was standing at the stove, humming along to the soft music playing, an apron wrapped around his waist as he flipped something in a pan with one hand, messing around with a spatula in the other. He turned when Dick entered the kitchen, smiling.

"Hey chum, you're awake! Wanna help me cook some breakfast?" Dick nodded, climbing onto a chair to peek at the eggs Bruce was making. "I'm making omelets. They're simple and quick and provide you with lots of good protein and vegetables." Bruce informed him, lifting him off the chair and onto his hip instead, handing him the spatula.

"Go on, flip it." Dick laughed, leaning over the pan to flip the omelet. "Nice work chum!" Bruce cheered, sliding the finished omelets onto two plates. "Now we make some bacon- and.." Dick leaned against Bruce's chest, watching as he easily moved around the kitchen, explaining every step as he went. It was nice. Cozy. Domestic.

Jason: Jason awoke to the smell of frying bacon. He slid down the banister into the kitchen, and padded over to Bruce's side, who was leaned against the counter, drying dishes. "Hey Jay lad." Bruce greeted with a smile, bending down to lift him up. "What's up?"

"What're you making?" Jason asked around a yawn, peering around the kitchen for the source of the smell. "Oh," Bruce grinned, bending down so he could peer into the oven. "I'm making breakfast muffins. They've got bacon, eggs, cheese, and jalapeños." Jason's stomach rumbled and Bruce laughed, standing again.

"It'll be ready in a few Jay." He plopped Jason on the counter, grabbing a cookbook off the shelf. "In the meantime, wanna help me get started on this pot roast for dinner?" Jason nodded, running his hands along the old, yellowed pages of the cookbook. Bruce smiled as he watched him, collecting the ingredients.

"It was my mothers." He informed him, picking the recipe. "and one day," He bopped Jason's nose with a spoon. "It might be yours." Jason smiled.

Tim: Tim awoke to the sound of clanging dishes. That was... strange. Tim jumped out of bed, hand closing around his bo staff. His parents were off on another one of their little adventures. He was home alone. There wasn't anyone else in the house. Or, not supposed to be.

Tim crept down to the kitchen, keeping his back against the wall, before slowly peering inside. Bruce was standing at the sink, filling dirty pots and pans with soapy water, an apron wrapped around his waist, though clearly not big enough for him, so Tim assumed it belonged to the old cook who must have left it when Janet fired her.

"Uh," Tim cleared his throat and stepped into the kitchen, leaving his staff in the hallway. "Bruce? What are... you doing here?" Bruce turned to face him, smiling brightly.

"Timmy! You're awake! Lovely, sorry to drop by unannounced, but you mentioned yesterday not eating breakfast lately, and, well, I figured I'd stop by and make you something." He wiped his hands on a towel, suddenly seeming a little nervous. "If- if that's all right?" Tim nodded slowly, unsure.

"Uh, yeah- yeah no that's fine. What um, what for though?" As far as he was concerned, Robin hadn't done anything wrong lately, and he definitely hadn't done anything that warranted Bruce coming over to make him breakfast. Unless this was Bruce's way of softening the blow of firing him... Something curdled in Tim's stomach.

But Bruce smiled, set at ease again, and turned to his dishes. "Oh no reason, you just mentioned not having eaten breakfast and well," he laughed lightly, sticking a brush into the sink to help his cleaning. "Its... a little bit of a tradition, you know." He shrugged. "For me to cook something. For every Robin. You don't, uh, live at the manor, but that doesn't mean you should miss out."

Tim blinked in confusion. Bruce was... openly sharing a Robin tradition with him? That was new. Bruce sighed, apparently knowing it to, and turned back around. "I'm sorry Tim, I should... this is weird.. I should have told you I'd be coming and... you're permanent Tim."

Tim stared at him wide eyed. "I'm what?" He repeated, utterly confused and a little scared. "You're permanent." Bruce repeated, eyes utterly serious. "i know I haven't always been the best towards you, but I'm trying. I want to- I want to fix that. And be there for you. Like your parents should be. I'm not trying to replace them- I just want you to know I'm here and-"

He was rambling, words moving too fast for Tim's ear to pick up, his own cheeks flushed as his hands moved awkwardly in his haste to explain. Tim didn't care. He'd stopped listening after 'you're permanent'.

Before Bruce had a chance to react, before Tim could stop and think more about what he was doing, he was across the room, his arms wrapped around Bruce's torso. Tim's mind finally connected to his body and he tensed, waiting for Bruce to push him away, to say "no thats not what I meant"... but after a short pause, Bruce's arms wrapped around him.

He was warm and strong and solid, firm and protecting. "I've got you Tim," Bruce whispered, his breath tickling Tim's ear, but the words sweeter than anything he'd ever heard. "You're permanent."

Steph: Steph didn't know how he was in her house. She wanted to know how he'd found her much less. As Bruce Wayne, even, not as Batman. She just stared at him. At Bruce. Standing in her kitchen, awkwardly, holding a Walmart bag of groceries. He cringed, lifting said bag. "You wanna make some waffles?"

Stephanie didn't even know what her life was, anymore. Here she was, ex-robin, remade Spoiler, standing in her cramped, crappy kitchen apartment, making waffles with fucking Batman, except it wasn't Batman, it was Bruce, and he was wearing her obnoxious purple apron and was singing along to her horrible music taste and he was good at singing damn it, and he was laughing at her jokes and even making his own and he even let her lick the spoon and the waffles looked delicious and...

"Why are you here Bruce?" She asked finally, while they were waiting for the last waffle to finish, and Bruce had already moved on to do the dishes for her. "Hm?" Bruce returned, pretending like he hadn't heard her, or understood her, though she could tell by the way his shoulders tensed that he had.

"Why are you here?" She repeated, crossing her arms. Bruce sighed, shoulders slumping. "Because I messed up." He whispered quietly. Steph stilled. "What?"

"I messed up." He repeated, and returned to his scrubbing, doing it more forcefully than necessary, and not turning around to face her. "I- I shouldn't have fired you Stephanie." And that was when the world slid out from under her feet.

"W-what??" She exploded. Bruce bit his lip, knuckles white on the scrubbing brush. "It- it was wrong of me to fire you. I- I'm sorry." And any fight she was gearing up for went out of her. "I was just so mad, and- and I was missing Tim and Dick and Jason and everyone... and its no excuse." He turned, finally, meeting her eyes. "Its no excuse. Not for how I treated you, not for any of it. And, I'm sorry."

Steph stared at him, rendered speechless for the first time in her life. Bruce fidgeted under her stare, but to his credit did not move away, or break eye contact, or flee. "Why now?" She finally managed to squeeze out. Bruce sighed, and it seemed like enough of an acceptance of his apology for now that he turned around again, and resumed doing the dishes.

"I don't know. I guess... I guess because I realized I hadn't done it with you yet." he gestured to their pile of waffles. "Cooked. Cooked for you. I cook for every Robin. For every Robin I've ever had I've cooked. And I- I didn't do it for you. And its because you weren't there for very long but truly its because I didn't want to. I didn't want you to be Robin. Because that meant Tim truly was gone. Because I only get a new Robin when the old one is gone. Gone for good." He shrugged. "There's no excuse."

"Those sounded like some pretty good ones right there." Steph joked lightly. Bruce smiled at that, but still didn't turn around. "But they aren't." Steph swallowed, and slowly walked closer, taking a rag and slowly drying off the dishes he finished.

They worked in silence for a while, until all the dishes were cleaned and put away again, and Steph motioned him to sit down at her rickety old table, and served them waffles.

"I forgive you." She said finally, when they had both eaten their fill. Bruce looked at her. Clearly shocked, but... listening. Staying. She loosed a breath, leaning back in her chair the way Jason had taught her.

"I forgive you because... because you have some pretty good reasons and because... well these waffles are really good." That got a smile, a crack in his mask, and Steph smiled back before she could stop it.

"But mostly..." His smile faded and he waited. Waited. Stayed. "But mostly I forgive you because you apologized. And because I want to. Because well," She smiled ruefully. "Robin can't ever stay mad at Batman for too long can he?" Bruce smiled back, smaller, more subdued, but he smiled back. "No," The words sounded almost sorry. "No he cannot."

Damian: Damian awoke to the smell of home. But... that wasn't right. He wasn't home. Not, not at home. He was at the Manor. At Home home. But the smell...

Damian slipped out of bed, walking to the kitchen. He found Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Steph there, yelling at each other and cooking, Bruce and Jason doing the most work while Steph handed them things, Tim read stuff aloud from a big yellow cookbook, and Dick watched, occasionally sampling things and calling for more of something.

"What's going on?" Damian asked, and his words cut through the chatter like a knife. Silence fell. Damian regretted speaking immediately, wishing he hadn't come downstairs at all. But Bruce turned with a smile, still stirring something that smelled so familiar.

"Hey Dami," he greeted, nodding his head for him to come closer. "Happy Birthday. We just decided we'd get together and make you something special for breakfast." Tim nodded and he and Dick herded him to the table, sitting him down and tying a napkin around his neck.

Jason appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray that wafted like home. "We made a bit of everything," He eldest brother said with a sheepish smile. "Wasn't sure which you'd like." He set the tray down and Damian couldn't stop the tears from welling up, not as he beheld the staples, the dishes Mama had made him. That he had shared with Grandfather.

"Wh- why? What?" Damian looked around at all the sweaty, proud, flour covered faces, beaming at him from around the table. "Do you not like?" Bruce asked in concern, brows furrowing.

"NO!" Damian returned, a little too forcefully, cheeks turning pink. "No." he said, a shade quieter. "Its lovely, but, but why?" Steph grinned, leaning over to ruffle his hair. "Because, little moon, it's Robin tradition that Bruce cooks for you. And, well, since we're fairly certain you're gonna be the last of us,"

"I don't think B's hair can take anymore." Jason grumbled. Tim snickered in agreement and Bruce smacked the back of his head with a small, fond smile as Jason ducked, laughing lightly. Steph rolled her eyes at them, winking at Damian as she continued. "We figured the rest of us would pitch in too." Dick grinned, leaning over to pour him a glass jellab. "Happy Robin Birthday Damian."

[pines4thetwin]

As promised, here's that fusion post for the three people that asked for it (drops it and runs).

Ford thinks of himself and Stan as one, an extension of each other, and lowkey hates that its not true nor possible.

And Mabel really shouldn't have shown him Steven Universe because now he's obsessing over the concept of fusions and his desire to be one with stan.

Now lets say this is Pre-Weird and everything is still tense between them and they aren't exactly talking but despite that ford still wants to be close and he knows stan does too.

He can see it in the broken resigned looks Stan keeps throwing his way. And listen, Ford isn't the best at communication but he can fix this. He may still be angry and self righteous and an asshole but he can fix them.

So now he spends an even more absurd amount of time in the lab trying to making it his reality and entirely disregards his base needs to the point even dipper is concerned.

He has a journal dedicated to this idea where he keeps all his notes and theories on how to make it possible. Would he have to alter their DNA for it to work or could it be possible for them as they are?

While doing the tests and research for his fixation he remembers a dimension he briefly travelled to back when he was younger and fresh through the portal. One where this concept, his desire, his fantasy, his wish was real. A dimension where it was was their culture, their way of life. And while he did think it was interesting then, he was young and angry and raw with unrestrained hurt. Too emotional to stop and study the practice the way he should have.

He beats himself up over it now. If only he had been thinking more logically him and stan could be one already. They wouldn't have to be so... apart.

He doesn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings though. He has to figure this out. He doesn't know exactly why but he feels like he's running out of time. Like he has to do this now or he'll never have the chance again.

Eventually he has his prototype and it functions well... enough. He just has one more trial to run. Except Stan comes down to check on him. 'Worried ford isn't taking care of himself properly.' or something like that.

And honestly, Stan in his space is the last thing he expects because they have an unspoken agreement. Stan roams above and Ford stays down here. And when they cross paths they both look the other way.

But stan is here and yes Ford is annoyed at first but this also means he doesn't have to go seek stan out.

"I told you to stay- wait actually this is perfect. We'll do it now," Ford fiddles with his device, turning it on and he really isn't thinking right anymore. He know the device works and that's all that matters.

"Do what now? Stanford, what is that," And Stan is kinda terrified because Ford looks... well he looks kinda like how he did decades ago when he had sent that postcard and Stan had come running because well, its Ford.

Ford looks insane, primal and unhinged, like he hasn't seen the light of day in weeks. And Dipper had told Stan, had been worried but Stan brushed it off because Ford locking himself in the lab and avoiding everybody, avoiding him wasn't a new development.

But now Stan’s worried because that wild-eyed look is directed at him again and the cowardly little animal in him is screaming at him to run.

It’s like Ford knows what he's thinking because before Stan has a chance to decide if he's going to shut down or entertain that scared little animal, Ford is grasping at him and pulling him deeper into the dingy little basement.

Stan trips and he fully expects his back to hit the floor but fords got and arm wrapped low on his back that keeps him from falling fully. And stan's hand is also tangled in fords sweater so even if Ford had let him fall, well they would have gone down together.

But then he catches sight of that thing again and it looks vaguely like a gun and why did he have to get saddled with the insane twin? He doesn't even have time to flinch because a bright light floods his vision and he blanks.

For a second, Stan's mind goes black and there's a strange humming in his ears. But then he hears a laugh he hasn't heard in forever. Soft and joyous and for a moment stan smiles. It's Ford's laugh.

Because he and Stan become one. And everything is warm and bright and as it should be. For a moment everything is right. It feels like coming home.

His-Their eyes open and Ford's confused? No, Stans confused.

"Sixer? Lee?" Their voice says, soft and bewildered. They look around, searching for each other. Stan? Ford? Where did they go? They look down and their vision swims. Four hands, five fingers? Six? It all blurs together.

Is this me, they think as one. Finally as one. Four hands run up the sides of their one body then stretch out for their wide eyes to view. Ford can feel his giddiness rising unbidden. And a whisper from Stan, rising to meet Ford. Uncertain but matching nonetheless.

Finally

Finally together... Finally fixed... Finally right.

They spin slowly, as if that will give them a better view of what they are now, and they catch their reflection in some dim glass. Ford wants to smile but their face drops, eyes horrified.

"What did you do," Stan says, voice a cutting accusation. Nausea erupts in their stomach. And that isn't right. Why isn't it right?

Something is wrong. Everything is so very wrong. Ford's head hurts. Or is it Stans. He doesn't know. They can't tell.

"I fixed it. I fixed us," Ford says and it isn't right either. Why is it still so wrong? Stan is angry. But why is he angry? Why aren't they happy? They're together. After all this time they're finally together again.

Ford can feel Stan pulling away. It's like their mind is splitting in two. Hot searing pain shoots through their head, four eyes closing when the world starts to spin.

Ford grasps ahold of stan and refuses to let go. He can't let Stan ruin this, ruin them. He will not let Stan destroy everything he's worked towards again. They've been apart for so long- too long but not anymore. Besides, this is for them. Stan will just have to understand. They are one now. Broken and wrong but one nonetheless.

"Let me go," They yell, tugging apart furiously. Their shape shifts and distorts but doesn't split. Ford won't let them. They snap back together painfully, stumbling on two bulky legs, one that branches into two feet. Wrong.

"No! This is what we wanted right," their voice bellows, loud and angry and wrong. So very wrong. "For us to be together. Always together."

They grip at their hair as if trying to pull themselves back apart. Stan.

"Not like this. I never asked for this." they shout back, voice sharp and hurt and why aren't they happy now. They should be happy. This is right. This is how they are meant to be.

Even as the anger and hurt courses through their entire being, Ford knows he wouldn't want to be any other way. Stan's angry and scared but at least they're one. They're shattered and hurting but even then some small part burns in them, it's a tiny little ember but it's both of them and it says yes.

Another set of hands reach for the ones in their hair, pulling them out and restraining them. Betrayal spikes, scorching and increasing rapidly even after years of dormancy. Ford.

"Stop being so ungrateful! You're always so-." angry tears spill from their eyes. Decades of hurt and anger and resentment spill forth to mix into a sense numbing cocktail but most of all they feel alone. So very alone. Them.

They grapple and struggle and Ford's device glints from the corner of their eyes. Ford can feel Stan's intent before their body even moves. Being one now, it's like their minds have melded which means Stan knows the device's purpose. And he intends to separate them.

"NO!" Ford bellows, voice priggish and angry, hurt tinting the singular word so strongly that their body stalls. Why would stan- Why doesn't he want them to be together?

"Grunkle Stan?" Their head whips to the left, eyes locking with a confused and tired Mabel’s. Their focus splits, body jerking in an awkward aborted movement as Stan tries to move forward and Ford holds him back.

“Pumpkin grab that- Mabel don't-” And why can they never agree on anything. When did everything go so wrong? 

Flashes of being in this very lab, so long ago- but no, it was before that even.

Mabel stares at them, scared and confused and stan has never wanted her to look at him like that ever. But Ford doesn't register it because for a moment, one split second, Stan stops fighting him. 

They don't hesitate to rush forward, very much intent on destroying their creation before it has a chance to be used against them. To hurt them.

Two small hands wrap around it before they can get ahold of it. Mabel clutches it to her chest, watching them with something too close to fear. They freeze in place, hands raising in surrender.

"Sweetie," Falls from their lips, pleading. For what though, they aren't quite sure. Because their mind, it should be one yet it isn't. It's at odds, fragmented by a fear and necessity that clash so strongly it could tear universes apart.

“Press the green- Don't you dare-” They speak at once, words and thoughts overlapping. Large hands cover their mouth, two others gripping uselessly at wrist that refuse to budge, because regardless of whatever insanity that has plagued Fords mind to make them act this way, Stan will not let their voice- their words even hint at a threat towards Mabel.

Mabel's head bobs, looking from them down to the thing in her hands, unsure of what to do. Stan nods, eyes pleading.

Ford lashes out, angry and hurt and thrashing like a wild dog. 'Stanley please no. Why don't you want us to be-' Stan is retreating, silent and distant. 'Lee. LEE!'

Everything goes dark.

Ford rises slowly, head spinning and ears ringing. He has the worst headache he has ever experienced. He stares at his hands, splayed on the floor. Two hands, six fingers. Wrong.

His head whips up and his gaze finds Stan's crumpled form across from him on the floor. Stan's glaring at him, thick angry tears spilling down red cheeks.

No. No!

His head turns slowly and his eyes fall on Mabel. Mabel who is standing with his prototype in shaky hands looking between a separated Ford and Stan. He... failed. And now they're...

Apart.

Broken.

Wrong.