#this is how he justifies what they do for a living to himself

[mayapapaya33]

Well at least you're disagreeing with what I DID say and not what I DIDN'T say! That's fine then, I much prefer that. Yeah, sure, agree to disagree that's fine.

As for the misogyny bit you're going for... um no. It's a bit ungenerous that you defaulted to that interpretation but ok. No, like Yeza, I am supportive of Veth's career as a strong independent adventurer lol. In your mind is there no happy medium between what happened in canon and what you just proposed? Her cowering in a basement in Felderwin forever? Do you REALLY think that's what I meant? Yeza loves her enough to not live in Felderwin in the latter part of the campaign, do you really think he wouldn't leave Felderwin for her if she had somehow managed to explain the situation to him earlier, or if finding a way to get a new body took longer than it did in canon? What if they never found an answer? What if she was stuck in the body of a goblin forever? Would she have been justified in never telling her family and never seeing them again?

Goblins are not reviled everywhere in the world, there are places they could live together in peace. And let's be real, how old is Luc anyway? Who knows? Certainly not Veth! Does he remember the terror of the goblin camp properly in his teeny tiny toddler brain? Even if he does remember, Goblins are a race of people not actually creatures so they should probably confront that at some point so that he isn't scared and prejudiced against an entire race for the rest of his life due to childhood trauma. Idk just putting that out there.

For instance, in this alternate universe where finding a spell for a new body took longer, maybe they could have set up a home base somewhere less anti-goblin for Yeza and Luc to live, much like the set up in Nicodranas during the latter half of C2 with Veth popping in and out visiting them between adventures. My point about finding a new body taking longer is that at a certain point, it does become a conscious choice to stay away from her family on Veth's part. Yes, the goblins are 100% responsible for their initial separation, but at some point, it is Veth's choice that keeps them apart. So how long does it take for it to stop being an acceptable decision? 1 year, 5 years? 10 years?

The Mighty Nein could hold off the entire city of Felderwin if they tried to start shit with Veth, so eventually it's not about her bodily safety anymore. It's about her fear of rejection. (I'm fairly certain Caleb could take the whole town by himself with a well-placed AOE lmfao). And I know they are allergic to it, but subtlety is also an option. Seriously, what if they never found an answer to get her a new body? Would she have never seen her family again? Sometimes there is no answer to life's gross unfairness, and you just have to bear terrible things and live your life anyway. That's my point. I'm thrilled for Veth that she got her wizard treatment plan and has a new body. That's fantastic! I'm saying sometimes life doesn't work out like that, and how long is it ok for her, or Anyone, Male, Female, Non-Binary, what-fucking-ever, to stay away from their family and not reconnect with them?

I hold everyone to the same standards of parenting I'm holding Veth to btw. Shitty double standards are shitty. I think Veth tries hard and does her best. But sometimes your best isn't good enough. To be blunt, she's an alcoholic who can't remember how old her kid is. Yes, the meta reason for that is because Sam Riegel can't resist making a joke and child ages are hard and he didn't think about it before the show. But Yeza knows how old Luc is and Veth doesn't. She straight up said she was drunk for most of his childhood. (1:04:26) The Mighty Nein Reunion: Echos of the Solstice.

Now, this is NOT to shame people for having a substance abuse issue, it's a serious problem and people deserve compassion and help. But it's still a serious issue that causes a lot of problems for the people around them. Again, in the entire context of the show, the scenes themselves are all very funny, but the in-universe facts of the matter are actually quite sad. Think about it, she was drunk for MOST of his childhood. Think about the implications of that.

To take the spotlight off of Veth for a moment, let's speak of probably my favorite mom in critical role, Marion. Perhaps this will clarify my stance on things, and maybe you'll still disagree, but that's ok. I love her dearly and she is a wonderful person. She is kind and caring and she love's Jester with all of her heart, but she is also not the best at parenting on the planet. She did the best she could, but her agoraphobia caused her to unintentionally neglect Jester. It's not her fault that she's mentally ill, but it was her responsibility to take care of Jester, and in that respect she failed. Life is hard and no one is perfect. Sometimes that's just the way it is. But child neglect is still child neglect, even when it's unintentional and you have good reasons. Now, I happen to like Marion as a person more than I like Veth, but I'm holding her to the same standards. Are you taking care of your kid, yes or no?

You said that Veth is indulgent because she feels guilty, yes that is 100% what it is. Which is totally understandable but doesn't exactly lead to the best parenting decisions or the best partnering decisions either. Honestly poor Yeza got volunteered into owning a dog and having their kid do combat training without even a private conversation, you'd think that would warrant a discussion between them. (I'd be annoyed if a male character unilaterally decided something like that without consulting a female character, why not extend the same consideration to Yeza?)

Here's an example, Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43): She unloads the crossbow of arrows, puts the "safety" on (lol) and stresses the importance of a balanced education, so that's great! Well done parenting right there! But she does immediately follow it up by getting the crossbow back from Luc by trading him a Grappling Hook for it lmfao. Not super safe for a 5ish year old to be playing with, those things are sharp! If she gave him extra candy or toys that would be one thing, even the dog is pretty forgivable and within acceptable levels of spontaneous indulgence given everything they've been through. I feel like THIS level of indulgence crosses some pretty firm parenting lines of Hey, maybe don't hand a 5ish year old something they could accidentally kill/maim themselves with! Maybe that's just me though?

Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43) but she trades him a grappling hook at (1:48:23) hahaha.

If you watch all those family scenes again, try your hardest to ignore how funny everyone is being, which is a difficult task I'll grant you, and actually look at what is factually happening with the characters, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Or maybe you won't, like I said, it's fine to have different interpretations of things. I'm not saying she's a bad person, I'm saying she's a complicated person and she's not super great at parenting, but she does try.

Or here's a big example, how about that time Luc straight up died because Veth and Jester couldn't shut the fuck up for 10 minutes to let Caleb cast the dome to make their families safer in a completely unknown location while they were on the run from a terrifying evil wizard? You'd think responsible parenting (or responsible daughtering, looking at you Jester, your mom is right there!) would prioritize the safety of the child, rather than wandering around chatting about future plans for a detective agency in a potentially dangerous situation.

Veth IS a rogue, they could have snuck around the whole time, but they were having fun and got careless, and the cost was steep. She lucked out big time that Caduceus is THE Cleric of all time and saved a spell slot. (The blame is shared 50/50 with Jester on this one, it's just a vibrant example of the shit I'm talking about. She's reckless, makes bad decisions, and endangers people accidentally).

Again, the meta reason for this is because Sam and Laura can't stop cracking jokes, and THEY were having fun, and weren't paying attention to the volume of the conversation because the CR cast forget to do that all the time anyway. Too bad for Veth and Jester that it reflects INCREDIBLY badly on their characters this particular time. And Veth has a history of carelessness so you can't even say it's out of character, or just a one-off incident. Considering she accidentally killed both Caduceus and herself by being careless, it's a fairly consistent character flaw at this point.

(At least she pays child support though lol you are correct. Where's Relvin's child support Liliana?! Granted the child support payments from nowhere did freak Yeza out a bit so they might also double as accidental psychological warfare, but oh well, she DID try, I give her all the credit for that!)

As for the "hag thing" it's not about "thought crimes" or whatever, it's about her having the support system around her to have the strength necessary TO resist stuff like that and like Halas, etc. It's like how without the Mighty Nein Caleb would almost certainly have ended up back in Trent's web as a Volstrucker (Liam and Matt said it themselves, and that was Matt's plan if Caleb left the group) or Fjord would have ended up releasing Uk'otoa (Uk'otoa). Thinking about doing a thing, and doing the thing are not the same. I merely acknowledge the potential inside her for doing the things, and I think it's more than "just a thought" or a "moment of weakness." In the right circumstances, I think she'd do it. But she has support and love and hope and a wizard treatment plan, so she won't.

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[writing-mlm]

Hi, may I request a Tim Drake x male!reader story ? The reader is androgynous, has a rock/punk style, is a Japanese exorcist who dislikes heroes, and has an impulsive, shameless, and slightly paranoid personality. A fluff piece, please. Sorry for asking a lot, take care of yourself !

Stay for dinner-breakfast

Summary: Tim’s in a situationship with someone who hates heroes, this is just great. Pairing: Tim Drake x Male!Reader Wc: 3.8k tags/warnings: Japanese reader, way too many Blue Exorcist references, small demon fight

When most people familiar enough with demons or even the Justice League mention needing an exorcist, minds immediately go to the infamous John Constantine. The guy who managed to trick God and Satan, making himself nearly immortal. The guy who, admittedly, could probably control most demons with the flick of his cigarette.

Tim’s mind, however, wanders to a guy he met during his time abroad. When he had to do some Red Robin stuff that took him to Japan. He reminisces about it as if it was decades ago, in reality, it was two years ago. Hardly even two years, if he’s being honest. But he rarely is. 

While Bruce and Dick argue about whether or not they should call up John (the last time they did, Constantine ended up summoning more demons to deal with the initial demons and then blew up a building to get rid of the extra demons) (it cost Wayne Enterprises too much to justify asking that man for help again) Tim fishes out his phone. It doesn’t take him long to find the contact; it’s been what… a week since you’ve last spoken. He’s texted exactly three people within that week; Kon, Bart, and Jason. Jason because he wanted to know if he could join a drug bust he knew Jason had coming up. 

The answer was no. 

The phone rings as he spins in the chair, waiting until he hears that it’s connecting. Seriously, it’s already been three whole rings, what’s the hold-up?

“Whaddya want, hero boy?” You ask without looking down at the phone. Probably because you’re jumping from the ledge of a roof to a lamppost and then to the top of a vending machine. 

“You busy?” He asks, looking at the mole underneath your jaw. He hadn’t known that. Your head tilts from side to side as you make a noise. 

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Glancing down at the phone, you wink and then pocket the phone. 

“There’s a demon in Gotham, could use the help.” He says, barely able to see as you’re fighting a demon. His eyes glance up at the contact name Okumura, unassuming to most because it is someone’s last name but to Tim, it’s so much more. 

He thought it was absolutely hilarious that you were an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother, and had the same hobbies as the anime where the main character is an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother. You didn’t think it was nearly as funny. The first time he mentioned it you kicked him from a rooftop— it was three stories, he was fine. 

“Like now?” You ask, picking your sword— just like the anime character, he’d gladly remind you— and cutting the demon in half with a mumbled but strong prayer. 

“Yes,” He nods, looking at the live feed of a demon messing up the finance district of Gotham. 

“Fine,” You grumble. “You’re lucky I finished my work for the day. See you in a minute.” 

“Kay, bye!” He hangs up and removes an earbud, calling for Bruce and Dick who haven’t stopped arguing. He wonders how they’d get anything done without him. They stop and look towards him as he waves his phone. “I have someone coming in for the demons.” He announces and Dick just hopes it’s not one of his friends from his YJ time. He cannot deal with those kids after finding out they watched Santa Claus get killed by a sentient meteor and then spent the next five months delivering gifts. 

“It isn’t Constantine, right?” Bruce asks, arms crossed and a disapproving glare ready to be plastered on his face. 

“That white man has nothing on me,” You chuckle, entering the Batcave through the door, spinning a set of skeleton keys on your index finger before putting them back into your pocket. Pointedly, Tim looks off to the wall with a see, anime guy look before turning back to the task at hand. 

“Who…?” Dick slowly asks while Bruce is having second thoughts about letting Tim back into the cave ever again.

“That’s Okumura,” He responds, standing up from the chair to greet you.

You’re wearing a pair of jorts— but the good kind, not the weird-looking ones— with hand-bleach-painted crosses on the leg, chunky beige leg warmers over a pair of shiny black loafers and an extremely large sweater that falls off your shoulder as you run down the stairs overtop a black turtleneck. 

There’s a pair of red shades on the top of your head, they curve at the top in a way that makes it look as though you have horns. Tim decides to not comment on the obvious joke he could make. But you can tell he wants to make it because of the glint in his eyes.

“Hello!” You nod without looking at them, too focused on not tripping over the steps, and give the group a small two-finger wave. “Tim calls me Okumura, it is not my name, though.” The hand that was doing the wave meets his hand and you do a funky little handshake before you look over at them for the first time. You frown, looking at their suits. It’s not even a frown, it’s damn near a scowl. You look at Tim who just shrugs; he would’ve thought you knew he was with his hero family.

“I’ll head out the demon; tell them not to follow me,” You tell Tim and he nods, sending you the location of the fight. While he does that, you look around for a different exit when you see his motorcycle parked, ready to go. “I’m stealing your motorbike again!” You call as you’re rushing over to it. 

“Kay!” He replies, head still buried in his phone. The motorcycle reeves to life as you jump on it; Bruce nearly stops you but the door to the cave is opening and you’re off faster than he can move. Slowly, he turns towards Tim with his arms crossed and a lecture waiting to happen.

“You better have a good explanation for that,” Bruce says once the door closes again. 

“That’s my exorcist friend,” He explains with a shrug. 

“You have friends outside of Kon?” Jason asks, a teasing tone to his voice but Tim can tell it genuinely surprised Dick. He doesn’t know if he should be hurt by that. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs. 

“And he’s an exorcist?” Bruce asks, looking at where the motorcycle once sat. He really hopes you don’t break it.

“Yup.”

“How did he get here so fast?” Dick asks, a little worried Tim was hiding a person in the manor.

“Funny story,” Tim smiles, looking up at them before looking down again, leaving them hanging. Jason grumbles, air strangling him while Bruce just sighs and looks back to the live feed. Thankfully you’d already arrived at the scene and to Tim and your credit, you’re dealing with the demons fairly easily. It’s surprising that your face is hidden from the public’s view, he hadn’t seen a mask but he also hadn’t seen the giant sword so. Probably some magic he won’t care about but probably should learn.

“Let’s go, fifteen Joker goons spotted around the site.” In a fluid motion, Tim puts his mask on and follows Bruce into the Batmobile. 

When Tim gets out of the car, he immediately finds you. You’re on top of a demon, riding it in the air while laughing and stabbing a nearby demon. He stops for a moment, wondering how you managed to wrangle a demon enough to sit on its back as if it were a horse. He then sees the knife in its head and he understands. He’s nearly jealous of the sight. 

Tim finally joins the others in the fight, narrowly avoiding the demons spawning from someplace he hasn’t found out yet. But you have, because you kill the flying horse demon and land softly behind Tim, cutting a demon away before it can sneak up on him. He shouts a thank you, pushing two goons back with his staff.

“I said no heroes!” You shout as you’re running past, heading towards a glowing manhole. How he hadn’t noticed it before; he won’t ever know. 

“Did he say no heroes?” Dick grunts, pushing back two goons that tried to jump him. 

“Yeah, he got issues with them.” Tim laughed before he was punched in the stomach by the goon he’d been fighting. He grumbles, holding the spot for a second before he knocks the goon out. “How many more are left?” He asks.

“Four,” Bruce says as he knocks out one of them. “Three.”

He goes to reply when there’s a loud explosion from the manhole and he looks over. Blue smoke rises out from the holes and he abandons trying to help the others fight the remaining goons in favor of finding you in the chaos. He doesn’t know what the smoke is but he assumes it’s some type of Joker Gas and he knows you’re not used to that. 

Putting a respirator on his face, he moves the manhole cover and jumps down. He squints into the blue fog, listening for noises but there’s a lot. There are hundreds of insect demons scurrying around him, hissing from the pipes, and he stops to really listen. He hears a string of coughs and follows it, the smoke getting thicker but he sees the faint outline of you lying on your back. 

“You don’ need a mask,” You huff, waving your hand in an attempt to move the smoke. “It is not poison.” 

“What is it?” He asks, removing the respirator as the smoke starts to clear, escaping up to the manhole. Your figure gets clearer, he can see your shirt and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“Spell,” You respond. “A… boobtrap for the talisman.”

“Boobytrap.” He corrects, putting the small device back into his pocket.

“That is what I said.” You blink, sitting up. He doesn’t fight you on that and helps you to your feet before he stops, hand still in yours. Now that you’re up close, he can really see you and when his eyes trail down, he inhales sharply and looks away.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” He says, covering his mouth with his free hand. 

“What? Did I get ugly? Do I look like you?” You ask, genuinely concerned as you pat your face but calm down when you feel your features. 

“Worse,” He grins and reaches around to grab your newly formed tail. “You really are Okumura now!” You shout, tugging at the tail only to wince because it’s connected to you. It only makes him laugh harder and you shout again, shaking him.

“This is not funny!” You tell him and then pause. “Thhhis,” You repeat and then cover your mouth. His eyebrows raise and, to his credit, he stops laughing. At least until you remove your hand and open your mouth, showing off the newly formed sharp canines. He barks a laugh and then pushes your hair away from your ear and you watch in horror as he spins on his heel to hide his expression. 

“You two okay down there?” Dick shouts from the top of the manhole.

“Fine!” Tim replies through his laugh. 

“That was one voice!”

“Fine!” You reply, even though you’re freaking out as your fingers trace over the suddenly sharp ears on your head. 

“I'm cursed!” You cry, dropping your head onto Tim’s shoulder, your ear nearly poking him in the eye. “This is your fault.” Pushing him away, you pick up your sword from the floor and resheath it with ease. “Never trust a hero,” You grunt, rushing over to the manhole.

“My fault?” He echos, following you out of the manhole. 

“You called me into your freaky city!” Climbing to the top of the manhole, you sit and kick his face. Not too hard, though. He shouts, holding his nose with one hand and the railing with the other. Standing up, you redo your hair over your ears and try to stuff the tail into your pants but it swings wildly and then wraps around something that’s behind you. 

When you look at what it was holding, you find it’s wrapped around Tim’s hand, helping him out of the manhole. 

“I think it likes you,” You grin despite yourself. 

“So, you like the tail?” He asks, checking his nose through the reflective metal of his staff. Thankfully his nose wasn’t broken, but it was throbbing in pain. Red on the end and he’s rubbing it with his free hand. You shrug, crossing your arms. 

“If it holds you like that,” Winking, he rolls his eyes under the mask and looks over at his family. Your eyes follow and you check your phone; there are no texts from anyone but you pretend that there are. 

“Wow, glad we settled that then.” He hums, smiling at you. 

“Mhmm, well, bye!” 

“Wait—“ He grabs the tail as you’re walking away and you grunt, eyes wide as you turn to look at him. Your eyes dart to and from the tail, watching as his fingers absentmindedly play with the soft furs on the end. “Stay for dinner, you did say I owed you.” When you first met, you’d gotten a glorious dinner and he ran into you, spilling it right into a sewer drain. You still think about that day and get upset. 

“Is it…” You cringe as you can’t find the right word. “American food?” He chuckles, remembering the countless videos you’ve sent him with angry and crying emojis. Hotdogs in jello, white bread soaked in water, mashed potatoes made out of potato chips, and boiled plain, unseasoned chicken with unwashed white rice.

“It’s not the American food you sent me.” He promises. “It’s good, I like it.” Your face scrunches as that’s not much to go off of; the man drinks Monster Energy’s like it's water. You’re sure it’s melted off his taste buds at this point.

“But you also like the vending machine cakes.” 

“It was good.” He defends. “But this is really good, trust me?”

“I wasn’t invited by B,” You glance over at the scowling Batman and glare back. Tim grabs your face, turning you to look back at him. You smile at him in a way that makes his stomach flutter and he clears his throat, dropping his hand. 

“Ugh! B, can he stay for dinner?” He asks, pressing his finger against his earpiece. 

“No.”

“He said yes,” He smiles and you struggle to still say no to him.

“I have to speak to the council about this—“ You gesture to your newly formed tail and ears. “Raincheck.”

Tim sighs but relents. 

“We’ll make your favorite next time; as a thank you.” He promises and you nod, waving before jogging up to a random door. The team watches as you pull out the keys and open the door, showing the headquarters of the council you work for. You wave again, your tail waving along before the door closes. 

“Better than Constantine,” Jason says as he looks at the ash on the ground. 

—

“That skirt does not go with that shirt,” Damian stops at Tim’s door, blinking at the oak door as Tim laughs. “I regret buying you VIP and custom makeup,” Now, Damian’s no idiot. He has friends and Jon, much to his chagrin, has gotten him into Roblox. So he knows very well that Tim is talking about Dress to Impress. 

“What? It looks cute!” Another voice defends, a voice that isn’t one he’s familiar with. He’d assumed Tim was talking to Kon, maybe Bart, or even himself. “You’re the one wearing a neon green fur hat when the theme is Victorian!” Carefully, he grabs onto the brass doorknob, pressing his other hand to the door and slowly turns it. 

“It’s camp,” Tim replies. He’s sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and laptop perched between them. Regrettably, he’s in an old band t-shirt and sweats; not company attire Damian would later remark. Across from him, sitting with their back to the door, Damian stares at the dangling sword earrings and then the tattered Eastern Youth shirt overtop a pair of leather pants. But his focus is on the tail swishing back and forth. 

“It’s ugly, just like your face,” You remark. Tim smiles, still looking down at his laptop, and moves his leg to kick you. You grab his ankle before he can and extend his leg, tossing your own over it. He shifts so both his legs are out and you naturally sit with your legs intertwined. 

Damian turns his nose up and leaves the room, the door softly locking behind him. 

“Pretty sure you weren’t saying that earlier,” Tim chides after the door had closed, watching as Damian’s footsteps leave from his door. 

“I did,” You hum, showing how you’d gotten first place and he’d gotten dead last. He rolls his eyes, leaves the game, and turns off your iPad. Next time he’ll just rig the game, clearly, the lobby didn’t understand his vision. 

“You should stay for dinner,” Your face contorts at the idea and you scoot closer to him until your ankles reach his back and his knees are at your ribs. “They’re not bad, not right now, at least.” He adds, messing with your studded belt. 

“I don’t like heroes, Tim,” You remind him. He frowns, eyes meeting your own. “And Bruce definitely will not welcome me after the curse,” Right, the whole demon curse. His eyes move to your tail that’s now wrapping around his left leg, the soft hairs brushing against his calf. While you’re not wrong, Bruce would have a heart attack if Tim was caught letting a demon (it's temporary, the council assured you) inside his house. 

“Fuck what Bruce has to say; I have my place! I run the company now, too,” He shrugs. 

“So why are we at the manor?” You tilt your head and he shrugs again. 

“Alfred offered to make my favorite for dinner because I haven’t visited since the whole demon thing.” You tut, leaning forward so your head rests on his chest. He looks at your awkwardly folded pose and pushes your legs. Getting the hint, you lift yourself and fold your legs underneath you. He lays his head on top of yours, using his phone behind your back. 

The two of you sit in silence until your legs go numb and you turn around, now watching as he scrolls through his socials. He shifts so one arm holds you close and locks his legs over yours while you hold his hand. 

Now, despite how it may look, you and Tim were not in a relationship. Nearly, you’ll both admit that much. But nothing that ever surpassed longing glances and touching that lasted far too long for the two of you to simply be friends. 

And that was for one simple reason.

Tim was a hero. 

You don’t hate heroes, simply a strong dislike towards them. For a multitude of reasons, enough for a twenty-page paper. Tim would know, he had you make one when you first rejected him. You don’t really trust them, all of them except for Tim. And maybe his strange friend Kon, but that’s about it. All of the rest can leave you the hell alone. 

Your phone buzzes and you spare it a glance; a call from your superior. 

“I gotta go,” You tell him but make no move to leave. He just hums, still scrolling on his phone. “There’s probably an attack and I’m needed.”

“That’s crazy,” He mutters, showing you a video of a cat lying down in an empty fishbowl. 

“And Alfred will probably come up soon,” The time is around when dinner is usually ready.

“Probably,” He agrees. Your phone starts ringing again and you stare at it. 

“I really should be going,” 

“You really shouldn’t.” He drops his phone to hold you with both arms.

“I’ll get in trouble,” You look up at him and he just blinks. “They’ll take my keys away.” He relents and lets you stand but you don’t move. He raises an eyebrow and you smile before flicking him with your tail and getting up. 

He spluttered at the hairs, wiping his mouth as you shoved your feet into your boots. 

“See you,” You wave before opening his bedroom door to your boss's room. He sees the woman sitting on the edge of her desk, dangling her phone. She sees him and you quickly shut the door. 

Flopping onto his back, Tim runs his hands down his face and stares at the ceiling. He rolls over and looks down at your iPad, deciding he’ll just keep it until you notice it’s gone.

—

“Still have an issue with me being a hero?” Tim asks as you’re cooking in his apartment. You’re making breakfast for dinner, considering he’d come back at three in the morning and you’d skipped breakfast in favor of dealing with some demons terrorizing school.

“Yes, Tim.” You reply, setting a third pancake onto the plate. He leans against your back, staring at the side of your face while making sure to be careful of your sharp ear. Your tail pulls him closer and he snickers. “The tail has nothing to do with me,” You grumble, side-glancing at him. 

“Even if I say pretty please?” He bats his long eyelashes, making sure that they tickle your face. 

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” You laugh, pushing his face away. With a small snicker, he pulls his face and adjusts his grip on you. Tim sighs into your shoulder and then steals a piece of bacon, narrowly avoiding the slap from the spatula.

“Can I just be the one hero you like?” He hops onto the counter, watching as you continue to cook. 

“You already are,” You watch from the corner of your eye as he flicks his hair out of his face, studying you. He watches you for another minute or two, offering up forks when it’s time to plate the food. He’s clearly thinking as he pours the cups of juice, smiling while he jumps back on the counter before he eventually speaks up. 

“Can I take you on a date, then?” He asks, eyes flickering from the last pancake to your face. Pausing mid-flip, you shrug. Taking a moment to think about it, Tim watches as your tail slowly moves side to side before it settles on the back of the couch.

“It would be faster if you just kissed me, if I’m being honest.” You chuckle and his eyebrows raise. 

“You’re telling me all of this could’ve been avoided with… a kiss?” He slowly asks and you nod, turning the fire off and then moving to be in front of him. He reaches for you, his fingers curling under your jaw as you stare up at him. Opening his legs, you sit between them and mess with the hair around his face. 

“I just wanted to see some initiative,” You hum and he rolls his eyes before crashing his lips into yours.

[a-regular-amount-of-spiders]

dick grayson x reader w blood (like kissing his split lip after a fight, u get it)

Oooooo I do get it :3

They/them afab reader babes

This got like, weirdly poetic? I'm not really sure what happened, but this is more esoteric than my usual brand. Hope yo uenjoy all the same!

18+ for smut my loves

Dick spilled through the curtains covering your balcony window with a crash and a bitten off groan. You rush into your living room to see your almost partner splayed on your floor, blood sinking into your carpet. 

  “Fucking Christ!” You yelp, rushing over to his side, hovering nervously over his prone form. 

“Hey, I’m okay” He muttered from your floor.

“Yeah, sure, you going to say something believable this time?” You snap, more out of distress than anger, before taking a deep breath. You can handle this, you know what you’re doing. Probably. You assess his injuries, ignoring whatever dumb shit he has to say to justify the state of him in favor of getting all the wonderful tools afforded to a poor as hell medical student working part time as an EMT.

You work your magic, absently quipping a few jokes here and there as you assess the damage. It’s not as serious as it looks, thankfully. You zone back into reality as you finish cleaning his more severe injuries. He’s giving you a dopey smile that you can’t help but to return, he’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s got a lot of superficial cuts, so he looks a bloody mess despite barely losing any blood.

“Am I gonna live doc?” He gives you that lopsided smile that makes you want to kiss him, so you do.

“Idiot” you respond fondly. The coppery taste of blood on his split lip dances across your tongue. A sharp metallic twang that intertwines with a flavor that is uniquely him. You nip his bottom lip, just to hear him groan and just to feel his fingers tighten around your plush hips. He leans in, positioning himself in your lap. Hard, muscle-corded thighs splaying wide over your thick ones.

“You’re so soft.” He whispers in your ear, nipping it almost meanly, smearing blood down your neck as he places little kisses and sucks bruises on your skin, hand threading into your hair. You press your fingers into a wound on the inside of his arm, just to watch him tense. You still gasp when he pulls your hair back, when he digs his teeth into your neck and rocks his hip forward. You love when he gets like this, when the endorphins and relief of making it through a night almost gone horribly wrong go straight to his head and his cock. “And you’re so needy.” You take his hands in your own, placing them on your hips, just beneath your night shirt. He squeezes them, kneads his fingers into you, always fixated on how your body differs so much from his own. Dick leans in to kiss you again, this one slower, more considerate as he rolls his hips into yours, hands drifting up to trace the scars from top surgery,  then over your sensitive nipples, pinching and twist with a smug and bloodied grin that has you grabbing his arousal with a firm grip that makes him whimper, and makes the smug grin melt into those pretty watery blue eyes getting wide and pleasing. His long agile fingers drift lower, across your stomach and slipping beneath your waist band to stroke your clit and get his fingers slick enough to press into you at a pace just shy of desperate. He’d figured out all your sweet spots a long time ago, so even with the haze of endorphins and lust cast over his mind, he finds them easily. He presses into your hand eagerly, seemingly unable to help himself as you lick up the blood beading lazily on his open wounds. You’ll have to clean him after, when he’s plaint and clingy, but it won’t be hard. This is one of the few circumstances where he allows you to take care of him easily. You lean into whisper praise in his ear, you tell him how good he is, how he’s being so sweet for you, how he’s so lovely like this, and he starts to fall apart. Neither of you last long like this, a little slice of time where there;s no ego or competition. Where neither of you is scared of your wants, or worried about driving each other away. You fall apart in each other’s hands, clothes still on, because like this there’s no pretense. You’re just glad he’s here. Your love allowing him to covet tenderness. His vulnerability allowing you to covet the feeling of being needed. Of being irreplaceable. Your orgasm washes over you like honey sluggishly warming your veins. You lean against each other for awhile. The floor is cold and uncomfortable beneath your knees which are pressed in an uncomfortable fold. You hold each other despite the blood and sweat soaking your clothes, stick and gross, because in the face of the simple euphoria of loving human contact none of that matters. When reality creeps in, city breathing with cars and lights just outside of your window, you both drag yourself to the bathroom. You wash his hair of the dirt and grime, of thee smokey, ripe city air. He washes his blood off your hands, He cleans your body and you clean his soul. You collapse into your bed together, wrapped tight in each others arms- neither willing to go in between dreams, nightmares, and the waking.

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XVII): Two Steps Forward, and Going Down Swinging

In the wake of feeling professionally replaced (and betrayed), Mulder continues to commandeer the Galpex-Orpheus oil rig... that is, until Doggett begins to assert his own dominance, too.

In other words: how does their dynamic change, now that Agent Doggett is head of the files?

SHIFTING HIERARCHIES

We left off with Agent Mulder making Agent Doggett jump through hoops to prove himself-- antics which have, by degrees, whittled away the patience Doggett kept doling out for his partner's wayward partner.

Now, however: enough is enough.

"Agent Mulder! Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!” Doggett demands, roaring up behind the aforementioned man (who is studiously ignoring every word he’s saying.) Patience thoroughly thinned, his voice-- while controlled-- projects across the oil rig: the days of biting his tongue are over. “Like it or not I've been assigned this case-- one call to the Deputy Director and you’re canned for insubordination.”

Instead of addressing his claims, Mulder deflects, “How are you going to call when the radio’s broken?”

“Hey, don’t push me, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder pulls up short, turns, and faces Doggett coolly. “You won’t do it.”

“You think?”

“We're both in the same boat, Agent Doggett. We're just paddling in different directions.” Which is an admission, albeit late and smugly given, of Mulder’s feelings and reservations: Doggett’s not a bad man, nor a simple cog in the machine. He is, however, allowing himself to be used as such-- Mulder believes-- which is a danger in and of itself. But instead of communicating this directly, he characteristically dodges a straight answer-- a behavior Mulder is forced to overcome (forced to grow up from, in a way) halfway through Vienen.

Fed up with uncooperative grabs for leadership, Doggett lays down the law. “No, we’re not going in different directions here-- we’re going in one direction. My direction.” 

Snapping his head in a faint nod, Mulder’s mouth drops open slightly as he considers how to challenge this new angle. Despite feeling affronted, a tinge more respect floats to the surface: he can't help respecting someone who confronts him honestly, in spite (or because of) all his difficult, sanctimonious, cryptid approaches and critiques-- trust through transparency, essentially (which is also how he can easily be manipulated, be it from Phoebe Green or Alex Krycek or Diana Fowley or Karin Berquist or etc.) 

Following Doggett’s authoritative footsteps, Mulder raises his voice across the sparse, accumulated distance. Nasally and matter-of-fact, he argues, “I don't think Kersh expects you to come back empty-handed on this one. Since you have already told me about what you think about this case in so many words, I don't see you coming back with anything that's gonna protect anybody's business interests.” 

Thoroughly riled, Doggett stops and slowly turns, slightly grimacing with contempt. “Wow, you really got me pegged. Anything that doesn't fit in my narrow field of vision might as well not exist, is that right Agent Mulder?” 

Mulder stares, then slightly nods and gulps-- pegged, and a little impressed at Doggett's combined insight and complete self-control. An accusation of this nature would have made him or Scully blaze up, but not his replacement. Agent Doggett, then, isn’t as soft-bellied as he'd supposed... which shouldn't be too surprising, given the man's penchant for taking undeserved punches and still saving lives days later (post here.)

Although Mulder doesn’t deny the accusation, he doesn’t need to: his faulty perception has been revealed. The past has already justified his replacement: Doggett, for all his practical, probable skepticism, still encouraged Scully to take leaps of faith in their cases-- he’d studied Mulder’s methods, notated its success, and trusted to that process, to the work, in Mulder's absence. The exiled x-file agent doesn’t know this, of course-- his former partner hasn’t told him about her new partner’s recruitment, or about Doggett’s journey towards a form of belief, or about Doggett’s steadfastness and loyalty. And why hasn't Scully told him about everything? Because Mulder didn’t want to hear it; and, resurrections and PTSD and abruptions aside, perhaps she wasn’t ready to get into a larger conversation over issues that would resolve themselves in a few weeks (via her maternity leave), especially in light of their recent reconnection. This is, of course, speculation built off of Mulder's hinted one-liner (previous post here), but it fits quite well with what we’re given in Alone. 

Besides, Mulder previously glimpsed Doggett's floundering struggle with, but not complete rejection of, the unknown (post here)-- a truth he'd set aside in wounded pride (post here.)

“So why is this man Taylor lying?” Doggett asks, seeing that he’s nailed Mulder’s motives and proven himself again in some small measure. “You do know he's lying, don’t you?”

Bobbing his head and licking his lips in agreement, Mulder drops the cynicism and gives John Doggett an honest, upfront answer: “I think he knows the truth about what happened. And he may not be the only one.”

The other agent, however, is not charmed by this admission-- too little, too late; too many bits and pieces that add up to a mercurial, paranoid loon. 

“I never would have believed it, these stories about you”-- gives away Agent Doggett’s position, as well. Up to this point, he’d borne Mulder’s antics with the graceful assumption that there was ‘more than meets the eye’. Agent Mulder was the crazy man burrowed away in the basement, yes; but the extent of his conspiracy theories for something as simple as turf wars over an oil rig-- Doggett assumes-- frustrates, baffles, and disappoints. 

Eyebrows pumping-- guard shooting right back up-- Mulder prods, “Really-- what stories are those?”

“That you can find a conspiracy at a church picnic.”

Again, nodding; again, reasserting dominance; again, changing his opinion, Mulder concludes, “What church?” before he walks ahead, leaving Doggett’s consternation in the dust.  

GOING DOWN SWINGING

Here we reach the first marker for Mulder’s resignation decision, and the boldest on-screen nudge, thus far, of his impending fatherhood-- which we all know at this point is criminal, particularly so because David Duchovny would have loved to flesh out the more personal aspects of his character’s challenges and changes. But I digress.  

Scully calls the oil rig with salient and pressing information; and before she’s either disconnected or connected through to Doggett, Mulder intercepts the comms. 

“Well I’m sorry, Agent Doggett’s gone fishing. Can I take a message please?” He slides into the chair, lips gleefully glued to the microphone-- tickled to talk to Scully.

“Mulder?” she questions-- not tickled to find him there. Big consequences-- huge-- if this gets out. 

“I was just in the neighborhood.” 

“Mulder, you can’t just flout orders like this. It’s not like old times-- Kersh isn’t going to tolerate this.” 

“Kersh doesn’t need to know.”

“Mulder….” 

It’s like old times: Mulder sneaking off to the sea somewhere, unable to let the evidence get away yet unwilling to take Scully down with him (ex. Tooms, Triangle, etc.) And like old times, he knows he can completely trust her: “You need me out here, Scully, you know that better than anyone.”

But a neat little twist happens (the second for Mulder in a span of hours): Scully agrees with him, openly-- “I hate to say, as of this morning, I’d have to agree”-- so openly that he immediately realizes she’s been sneaking around, too.

“Who’s flouting orders-- you found something, didn’t you, in that victim’s body? The virus?” 

It’s a delightful little punch of character work, a reminder to the audience that Scully has grown since Mulder’s abduction-- that she is willing to take leaps separate from her partner (old and new) in order to follow her own instincts. In this case, conducting Simon de la Cruz’s autopsy instead of shipping the body back wholesale to Mexico, weaseling around top-down commands in order to do so. Mulder takes this in stride, without comment: it's just enough like "old times"-- as he mentioned in the previous post-- that he can lose track of the differences in his post-abduction reality.

“Yes, I did; and it’s dead, Mulder.” 

“Dead? What killed it?” Puzzled, sucked into another mystery, he swipes at his nose, churning through variables. 

“Possibly radiation.”

“But that’s not possible--”

“I know,” Scully cuts in, not wanting to waste a precious second. “And this could be an isolated event, but that he’s infected at all means that everybody out there could be at risk. And that means you and Agent Doggett.” 

She stresses 'you', here, but the original purpose of her call was to back up Doggett-- an excellent carry-over from Medusa, and a neat little foreshadowing of the guilt complex she will battle in Alone. Even so, she, again, stresses 'you' because Mulder's unaccounted for presence has thrown a wrench in her subterfuge.

“We got to quarantine this rig,” Mulder decides. 

“No, Mulder-- you need to get off the rig.”

His face shifts, tongue lapping his lips as Scully offers up a faulty alternative.

“Have Agent Doggett give the order. We can quarantine you and the crew when we get back there.” 

“Scully, if these men are infected, the last place we want them is onshore where they can infect other people. You’re sitting on the answer right there, Scully. The body: you can find the virus, you can find what knocks it out, you can find what kills it.” 

Uncomfortably, she shifts, eyes clouding over, voice strained. “And what if I can’t?”-- the old undertow that steals her confidence from time to time, the one she battled in his absence (i.e. Patience, Badlaa, etc.), rears its ugly head.

And this, this is the moment Mulder realizes the costs of his position: tilting his head, he contemplates the possibility of his death, troubled--

--then freezes, looking up at the sky as he remembers his child. 

“When he, uh,” Mulder begins, closing his eyes and wincing over his words, “when he gets old enough, tell the kid I went down swinging.” His tone is no longer evocative, insistent, or charged… in fact, his voice has dropped a few decibels and sounds someplace close to defeated. 

In the fervor of saving the world, chasing the truth, hounding after the "Them" that continually puppet and destroy the lives of others, he forgot about the one person who can’t take care of itself, who utterly and wholly relies on him (and Scully.) In Three Words, Mulder knew the baby was his (posts here and here) but was too consumed with staying afloat to fully embrace the child, let alone the responsibility of having someone else rely on him. He was afraid, moreover, to drag Scully and the baby down with him. In Empedocles, he and his partner had a talk off-screen (post here) that prepared him for the next step: a present at the apartment, a hand on her belly, a commitment to the child in the form of a Mulder family heirloom. And now he’s here, commitment is staring him in the face. As Mulder feared in Three Words, he is letting Scully and the baby down. The only recourse left (is to solve the case, save the day, and get home in one piece. 

But what about next time? Who can he rely on to save the world in his stead? It’s a question Mulder has to confront and come to terms with-- and one he does (or attempts to do) in Vienen’s final scene.

Scully immediately heaves a sigh at his words-- refusing, absolutely refusing to engage with this hypothetical-- and orders him, “Let me talk to Agent Doggett.” Whenever Mulder gives up, it’s usual for Scully to step up to the plate and drag him to reason… however, it’s new that she asks for someone else in his stead. Is she replacing him, considering his opinion less than or his tactics faulty? No: she is simply doing everything she can to make sure the father of her child makes it off that rig. 

Her partner, meanwhile, resents that Doggett’s advice would be worth her attention. “Agent Doggett’s not here right now.”

“Yes, I am,” barks Doggett, a frowning, sturdy figure in the doorway. When he demands, “Who’s on the radio?” Mulder brushes him off-- plopping the headphones down, flailing his arms, and stalking out of the room-- without disconnecting the channel.

It’s likely, perhaps, that Doggett could have talked to Agent Scully if he hadn’t followed Mulder out, incensed again. So, did one agent storm and shrug off the other, on purpose, to draw the bull away with a flag?

BATTLE PLANS

“Who you talkin’ to?” Doggett insists, escalating to a sharp, “Hey!” when he isn’t answered. 

“That was Agent Scully.”

“What’d she say?”

Mulder keeps walking, facing away as they head into a sheet of steam. “She said it was lucky that I’m out here.”  

“No, you’re lucky I’m lettin’ you stay.” Stressed, wired, and at his limit, Doggett reroutes his voice from its taut, wounded note to a hushed, firm one. “You got information important to this investigation, then I better well know about it. I’m in charge out here, Agent Mulder.” 

Again, Mulder responds to that transparently commanding appeal, turning around and looking his compatriot directly in the eye. 

“Alright, then go ahead and take charge. Only you might not like what it means in this case. What you’re going to have to do with that information you’re so anxious to have.”

And, while the dialogue and marked lack of a response isn’t… the best writing, the challenge is clear: here’s your shot, prove me wrong. 

Agent Doggett, sensing that challenge, is ill at ease; but he takes up the gauntlet, regardless, and leads the lock-down debriefing on the rig. Mulder hangs back, respecting his position-- approving, silently; and when Doggett walks over later, he invites him along without second thought to locate one of the missing crewmen. 

It’s the barest whiff of camaraderie, but both men seem to have struck a bargain for another test drive. 

Fresh off of quarantine orders, replacement agent wants answers: “So, what are you hoping to find, Agent Mulder? Honestly?” 

As they talk shop, Mulder finally begins to share theories-- or shadows of theories, opening up the more Doggett takes his answers in stride. It’s the same method Agent Doggett used on newly un-parterned Scully, one that seems to work well on both Spookys.

Still, all they’re working off of is hunches; and Doggett isn’t too keen on building an investigation solely around guesswork-- particularly when it's Mulder's guesswork; and even more particularly when it shuts down an oil rig involved in a dicey American and Mexican territory dispute. 

“You know? I quarantine a whole oil rig without any evidence to support what you’re saying-- not one thing-- but you still have yet to give me a straight answer as to what you think is going on out here. If these men are hiding something, if they’re protecting something, what is it?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Mulder confesses.

“And when you do, let me know-- 'cause I’ve got to get on the radio to justify this action.” Mirroring their walkabout before, Doggett switches up positions by taking the lead.

And like before, Mulder takes up pursuit-- but this time, he hangs back a second, struggling internally. This time, he has to confront an uncomfortable truth: if he's going to work with Doggett, he's going to have to trust him a bit more-- a precursor to that leap of faith. This time, Mulder must acknowledge that two are still better than one, even if the other half of the team is not someone he cares to confide in-- even if he, himself, is technically no longer part of the team.

What would mucking up the potential of the case through reticence prove? And truthfully, that wasn't (and isn't) his goal, regardless-- but he still needs to communicate this; and to communicate this, Mulder has to stop clinging to a bruised ego and admit to his own shortcomings, baring the fragility of his theories to the new X-Files head for assessment and judgment. In short, he must be vulnerable.

“Agent Doggett,” he calls out, “I didn’t come out here just to bust you. I’m telling you, I’ve seen this substance. I’ve seen how it can take over a man’s body. This crew could be infected and not even know it. They may have no idea they’re being controlled.” 

Giving him a processing, though still skeptical look, Doggett leans over, swipes some oil on his finger, and purses his lips as he prods, “This? This is what you’re saying is going to take over my body?”

Mulder jostles his head, annoyed and uncomfortable. 

“Well,” Doggett continues, “when’s it going to kick in?” 

Mouth clenched, the oil expert shakes his head stiffly. “That’s not how it works,” he insists softly. “It body jumps from man-to-man; and I’m not sure that it’s in all oil.” 

Turning sarcastic at Mulder’s uncertainty, Agent Doggett adds, “Well, that’s a relief, because only ninety percent of the planet is dependent on the stuff.” 

This statement snaps the disparate pieces together; and Mulder's face hardens in realization: the representative of Galpex oil lied. 

“What, he’s infected, too?” Doggett snips; but his asides and warnings-- “You’re reaching, Agent Mulder”-- are lost in the other's madcap rambling. Finally, he turns to leave, only stopping with restraint as Mulder calls after him.

“Agent Doggett! What, wh-what, what if that’s why this man is hiding-- Diego Garza-- because he knows what they’re up to; and he knows what they’re up to because he’s the only one who’s not infected with this alien virus?” 

“Alright, he knows,” Doggett concedes, willing to play along. “Why doesn’t he just come down and tell us?” 

And suddenly, without warning, an alarm blares out across the rig. Doggett takes off, but it’s Mulder who passes him up and arrives at their destination first. 

The radio room is on fire.

CONCLUSION

And there we have it-- progress has been made.

Now: into the inferno.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[karizard-ao3]

Any couple of your choosing is stuck inside an elevator!

The way I'm feeling right now, Luigi Mangione x Elon Musk ❤️🩷🤍

But in less seriousness, Yor and Twilight/Loid!

I'm picturing that Anya is at school, but Yor and Twilight have the day off for whatever reason (this is mainly for my own peace of mind - I don't want her all alone in the apartment for who knows how long :( ). Or, Yor has the day off and then Twilight unexpectedly has to go on a mission which requires him to stop at home first. Yor is planning to spend the day trying to cook something edible, so she is just getting back from the grocery store as Twilight is arriving back at the building.

He, of course, puts on a pleasant expression even though his gut is grumbling over this unexpected mission. There are a lot of logistics and he's on a time crunch! He gives her some excuse about needing to get something from the house in order to treat a particularly challenging patient. Yor tries to imagine what weapon he'd use for concussive therapy and concludes that one of their heavy stone bookends might be the most therapeutic (I don't know if they own a set of bookends in canon, but let's say they do).

They get in the elevator together, chatting, and then, on their way up, that is when the power goes out and the elevator stops.

Yor is startled but generally pretty chill about the setback. Loid is Not Having a Good Time™️.

Yor settles in to wait, hoping that the elevator gets back up and running while Loid is climbing the walls because he has a mission.

He wants to open the ceiling hatch and climb up, but let's say for some reason he can't. Perhaps it's padlocked? Why would it be padlocked? I don't know! But he would obviously try to go up the elevator shaft so something has to prevent him so he can enjoy this accidental romantic date with his wife.

Let's blame it on his digestive issues. I mean, I know that half the time he makes them up so he can pretend he's on the toilet for three hours while he does espionage, but sometimes he really does get a tummy ache and this is one of those times. He cannot climb up the shaft because his belly feels yucky because he's so stressed that he can't complete the mission he doesn't want to do in the first place.

Yor is very zen about the whole thing, though, and that starts to rub off on him. She starts going through the groceries and trying to figure out if she got anything that could be used medicinally to help his digestion.

Loid slides down the wall of the elevator until he's sitting on the floor and thanks her but tells her he's all right. He just hates to cancel on a "patient".

She sits down next to him and says the power probably won't be out long. They've had a lot of outages in recent weeks but never longer than a few minutes.

Loid is comforted, but only for about five minutes. Once it's clear the power is not coming back on, he gets antsy again.

Yor starts going through the groceries again and pulls out some bread and cheese and starts making a sandwich. She offers it to Loid, then makes herself one. She is smiling to herself and she tells him a story about how when she and Yuri were orphaned children, they would do rainy day picnics whenever the weather was bad, and eat a picnic lunch inside and how much fun they had making a dreary day more bright. She wishes Anya were here to enjoy the picnic with them, especially since she bought a whole bag of peanuts while she was out.

Loid, as usual, is touched and soothed by her ability to live in the moment and find the good in a situation. He puts his hand over hers and thanks her for being so chill, but he stares at her a little too long and she gets embarrassed. Suddenly, they realize how small the elevator actually is and how close to each other they are. This is hardly a problem for Loid, who is already justifying to himself that continuing to hold her hand is good for the mission. He starts to lean in, but Yor springs to her feet, launches through the hatch, and shimmies up to their floor. She starts hauling the elevator up (maybe there's a manual lever or something. I don't know how old timey elevators work - I also don't really know how new timey elevators work), hyperventilating and also a little mad at herself for running away. She's been curious about kissing Loid and thinking about it sometimes at night, but she is afraid of doing it wrong and disappointing him, so when it looked like he was going to go for it, she bolted.

Now that she's got some distance to think about it, she realizes maybe Loid thinks they should start kissing to sell their ruse better.

Loid is stunned when she wrenches the doors open with her bare hands and, apologizing, frees him from the elevator.

He says it's fine, somewhat bemused by her feat of strength, and they go into their apartment. he grabs whatever he needs for his mission. She is putting the groceries away when he comes out and he can tell she feels embarrassed and confused.

He apologizes if he made her uncomfortable in the elevator.

She says he didn't, she just isn't very confident because she was too busy raising Yuri to do anything else. If kissing is to be a part of their marriage ploy, she will do her best.

Loid is a little taken aback. He tells her she doesn't have to do anything she is not ready for.

She says something about wanting to be ready and they should just do it and closes her eyes so he can kiss her.

But Loid can tell by how she's trembling that she's liable to high kick him in the chin if he's too bold and tries to push it too far. So instead, he kisses her on the cheek and says he'll be home as soon as he can.

Her hand flies to her cheek and her face turns red, but he doesn't see it because now he is hurrying away, his own cheeks burning and his heart hammering in his chest, because maybe he's starting to lose sight of the mission after all.

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[p4nishers]

thinking about the relationship between mightily oats' "the worthwhile [words] don't burn" and constable dorfl's "the words in the heart cannot be taken"

[definitionsfading]

#the phrasing of he's not a monster is making me insane right now #he's not a monster he only cut once #he's not a monster he didn't brutally dismember her #(we did that though) #(we're monsters) #also lemon's reaction to tangerine telling him about the arm thing. they're both still disturbed by it #and tangerine takes this guilt and turns it into 'well we succeeded. we're professionals. we can't fuck up again. but we're professionals' #its an interesting coping mechanism #and it also kind of explains why he's so fragile. and why his understanding of himself as a pro is so important to him #while its such a precarious identity for him

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

I think the problem with a lot of Geto analysis online cannot truly understand that he's a victim and abusive. Like I'll straight up say jujutsu society is abusive and exploitative and he had to deal with three people his age and younger Dying (Satoru he was supposed to be working with, Riko was literally. There. And then Haibara who y'know. Is his junior so there's a level of protection and teaching they're supposed to have) and I can yap about my opinions on some of the stuff that's implied but also. HES A CULT LEADER AND CULTS ARE ABUSIVE. Even in his short interaction with the women he helps he is rude demeaning and manipulative (idk how to describe the name thing he's just fucking weird) he's willing to just Murder People in cold blood and he's a eugenicist who dehumanizes people and compares them to animals like. And even with sorcerers who he "respects" like. Do I need to explain how eugenics interacts with bodily autonomy or is that generally understood. I'll say straight up that I think he basically just copy pasted power dynamics from Jujutsu society (basically why I call him a victim of that. Jujutsu society is a-ok with child murder let's all remember that) but just bc they're learned doesn't make them Less Abusive (it just points to a bigger problem)

He contains multitudes and some of the multitudes involve being traumatized and physically assaulted as a child and others involve being a hateful person who decided that lateral violence feels good

[skrunksthatwunk]

really fun letting all of my favorite shows take turns being the "i can't think about it i can't think about it i can't think about it!!" bingewatch during finals season/associated crunch times. they're being inducted into a society

[tovaicas]

some of the threads probably could've been handled better but as a whole I love alphinaud's HW character arc so much

[quietwingsinthesky]

Leaving the safety of Sam tumblr and seeing the worst takes possible is sooooooo… just…

(Dean Stan on TikTok called the Sam and dean fight about Amy in 7.06 dean “finally standing up for himself”)

That’s so funny.

Bro, he killed a lady. And then lied about it.

Like, there’s a lot of times where I’ll go, fine, Dean’s being morally ambiguous and he thinks he’s making the right call, sure, sure. This was not one of those times.

(Secret good spn in my head where this and the Benny situation combine in Sam’s mind in such a way that once Jack comes around, that why he becomes so invested in Dean seeing Jack as family. Because he knows that if he doesn’t? If all he can offer is that he would spare Jack, that he thinks Jack isn’t a monster? Dean has disregarded that before. But if Dean can come to that conclusion on his own, strip the title of monster away because he’s become personally invested, that might protect Jack.)

[orcelito]

As a certified Akechi lover i probably should have more love for Legato. But it is just not the same.

Probably the level of cruelty involved + the fact that Akechi's ultimately a kid with a vendetta & too much power whereas Legato is someone who had no will to live so he filled that hole with the will of someone actively pursuing genocide.

Fantastic antagonist! Compelling narrative purpose! I love Legato as a character. I still want to drop kick him anytime I see him.

[xenosagaepisodeone]

in retrospect it's crazy how we just let parents turn to the media and blame their child's hobbies when their children commit suicide. I get why news outlets let it happen (if you can say "video games made my kid suicidal" or "my kid hung himself because uh... he was doing The TikTok Noose Challenge" then it justifies banning those things and enforcing stricter means of monitoring what kids do, on top of giving the parent an out for their culpability in the situation), but if your brain hasn't completely calcified with a boomerlike contempt for The Youth, you should immediately recognize this rhetoric as cope for a massive parenting fuckup. and generally if you examine a lot of these instances that make news, the sequence of events is normally the same; a kid is relatively isolated due to bullying or abuse, their parents don't know how to connect with them (or at worst view their lack of conformity as a burden), the child does not feel safe turning to their parent for comfort, the parent doesn't make any effort to aid the child in connecting with similar-minded peers (or don't bother until the issue is so apparent that they can't afford to ignore it), the child turns to outlets to sate their desire for interaction and belonging until they feel backed against a wall. parenting is hard, but the isolation that produces suicide is largely preventable in ways that a lot of parents gloss over because they do not consider the inner lives of their children to be real or meaningful. and going on TV to bleat to the world about how the one thing that your 14 year old strongly identified with is actually a corrupting influence just seems like a means of obliterating the remaining personhood of that child. you can call me callous, but to me these parents are looking at their child's suicide as another tantrum to be managed, and controlling their image post-mortem is their discipline of choice.

[stressfulsloth]

You understand that Kim's perception of himself as a "good cop" is a character flaw that is meant to be questioned, yes? That he is a good man but equally he is petty and mean and embittered by years of living through the racism he experiences on the force and he takes that out on the people he's meant to serve and protect. Taking the jackets from Pissfaggot and Fuck the World? A cop grasping for a little bit of power in a situation where he feels powerless. He looks better in comparison to the other cops because they're terrible. He's a good man but a bad cop. The RCM, the power, the racism, the violence, is a dead weight hung around his neck pulling him down.

Harry's attempts at being a good cop are explicitly futile; he is working for an organisation that is killing him by inches, killing Martinaise, killing Jamrock. He can try and try to be better; people still die because of the inaction of the police. He's held up as a cop with a low kill record before the game. He still killed three people. The copness is a malicious consuming force for him. Why do you think he tried to flush his case papers down the toilet and sell his gun? He's chronically physically and mentally ill and his healthcare is tied into an organisation with a monopoly on legalized violence. He hates himself for leaning into the violence and he also can't escape it. His status as a police officer keeps him trapped in it, no matter how hard he tries to be a good cop, to emulate Dick Mullen, however warped his idea of that may be.

Disco Elysium never presents the idea of a good cop as a truth, a certainty. Only ever as a fun house mirror, a reflection of what we actually are given, distorted by layers of media and irony and the sheer impossibility of people responding well to that level of power. Revachol's cops are corrupt. They kill, they brag about it, they steal from homeless people, they sit idle while crimes- not even crimes but the extrajudicial execution of the union workers- are committed. Better than the worst of them does not mean good, does not mean justified. The RCM cops are like kids playing police based off what they saw on TV, with their nicknames and their quips and their laissez faire attitude towards the law applying to them. Perhaps they try to perform the role of good cops. But anything deeper than surface level will reveal that it is exactly that; a performance.

[svbhuman]

idk man. i should be humble and whatnot but i have to defend myself