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battlekidx2 · 3 months

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Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts

These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.

Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?”

Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor.

And to explain this I'll just jump right in.

It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has.

At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)

Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).

Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.

And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.

This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.

To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.

At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price.

And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.

In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top.

He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.

He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.

The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface.

But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.

He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before.

His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.

I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.

Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #the show must go on #hello rosie #charlie #netflix #Alastor is such a fascinating character #he has the potential to really challenge Charlie's views of redemption #By either showing her when someone is too far gone #because he doubled down on his original plans #or actually accepting that he's changing #and finding “redemption”#thus proving that anyone can change #even a sadistic prideful overlord

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cloudysonder · 3 months

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In Response to Criticism of Loser, Baby

According to the yt comments under prime's upload of Loser, Baby, apparently some folks are taking offense to Husker comforting Angel by telling him he's a loser and to get over it and somehow framing this lovely lovely song as victim blaming??

the media literacy bar really is in hell

I do think the song plays out far better in the context of the show, and isn't really made to be a standalone piece of consumable media, though I will be treating it as such in the coming days by endlessly looping the video

anyway, this is a song that brings comfort and hope to both characters thanks to who each character is and what situation each is in. These are vital pieces of context that are important to understanding the message of the song. It's important to realize one method of comfort is not going to work for every situation-- the particular method in Loser, Baby works because of what the characters are looking for in the moment.

Husk confronts Angel on his self-destructive tendencies, to which Angel responds that drugs, sex, and immediate dopamine hits are his escape, and that, even in the worst case, even if he destroys himself, it'd be better than the situation he's currently in (a suicidal, scary thing to say)

In the previous scenes in the show, we've seen that Angel takes an almost comedic level of pride in his work, eager to drag the gang off to sex dungeons and show them his porn tapes. He delights in how uncomfortable his world makes them and constantly does bits, putting on a character that's hypersexual, that seems like he's in control and wants to be doing the sex work he's doing

This is very clearly an attempt at masquerading a level of power over his life that he doesn't actually have; in reality, he has no choice but to be sexually exploited, but if he acts like he chooses it, it almost feels like he owns his life. Or, really, it almost looks to others that he owns his life. It's all about performance and perception with Angel; he hates the idea of looking like someone who needs saving, hates looking like a victim, and hates being seen as powerless, so he tries to act like he's none of those things. Of course, he can't really lie to himself, so he resolves that inner turmoil (suffering that he completely internalizes because he doesn't want to break his facade) through drugs, sex, alcohol, and even pain as distraction.

Which is why "Loser, Baby," is so fucking wonderful! Husk is telling him, over and over, that he's not fooling anyone, that his little character he's sacrificing so much to play isn't worth it, that Angel's a loser and everyone can tell. If you take his words at face value, it's cruel and unkind and could make things worse--- that is, if this wasn't Husk and he wasn't talking to Angel.

It's freeing. Angel is being told that he doesn't need to do his bullshit performance, that he can be a loser, and that everyone at the hotel's a loser too, so no one's gonna judge him. It's a song about accepting where you are in life, about stopping Angel's denial of reality and refusal of vulnerability.

Most of all, it's a very kind gesture on Husk's part. It wouldn't have worked if Husk hadn't also loudly called himself a loser and opened up about his past mistakes. It's a wonderful song about mutual vulnerability and accepting imperfections and mistakes and accepting that you're in a shitty place so you can finally stop self-destructing and start finding solace in other people also in shitty places.

also it's gay soooooo not too much on my beloved huskerdust

#huskerdust #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel character analysis #hazbin hotel loser baby #loser baby #angel dust #husker #husk

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nelkcats · 10 months

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Journey to another world

Gotham Academy is the least mysterious place in the entire city. Or so you would think, the place where students of all ages attend to learn (and sometimes discover that their teachers are Rogues).

On one occasion, Damian became bored and decided to explore. He didn't see the point of attending the academy when he was more advanced in his studies (Tim agreed with his brother) but his father insisted, probably because he thought he would make "friends".

So, the first chance he got: Damian escaped from class and explored. He wasn't missing anything anyway. During his exploration there was an attack from a Rogue, and he ducked into one of the lockers in an attempt to hide to put on the mask.

He was surprised when he was transported to a completely different school. One that looked very destroyed (much more than the Academy).

Forgetting about his mission, Damian explored the school with curiosity, many students stared at him in confusion and asked if he was an exchange student, to which of course, the son of the bat replied yes.

So, for months: instead of going to classes, Damian escaped to the dimension and learned from it, sometimes just because he wanted to escape from home. Of course, he didn't notice the suspicious look Danny Fenton was giving him. Nor Poindexter pointing out to the halfa that someone was using his locker as some kind of transportation, again.

Danny knew the "exchange boy" wasn't a ghost, but he had no idea where he came from. All he knew was that the boy was too proud to recognize his city as a danger (Danny had kept Damian from encountering so many ghosts), the boy snorted at the mention of ghosts and said it was absurd. Danny just wanted to avoid him being killed, and maybe close the damn portal.

The worst part was when more "exchange students" started showing up, students who were obviously taking his dimension as a vacation. The halfa growled in frustration, knowing he had a lot of work ahead.

#dpxdc #Damian and Tim hate school #but is Damian who does something first #he used the locker to escape and Tim finally noticed #Damian decided to show his brother the other place #Tim told it to their siblings #and Damian growled at the thought of his new place being invaded #dp x dc #dc x dp #Jason compared it to Coraline story #Danny is tired #the Bats keep using his dimension as vacations #and he suffers in consequence #protecting them since they believe the dimension is secure #He is going to break and shout at them eventually #Damian is pretty sure Danny Fenton discovered his family but is not worried #What can a child do against a team of trained vigilantes?#Poindexter locker connects with Gotham by accident #the ghost is investigating why

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roosterforme · 9 months

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The Curveball Part 8 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: After weeks of asking Molly to confide in him, Bob does something impulsive. And when Molly finally opens up about what's on her mind, Bob doesn't respond exactly how she expected him to.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swears, pregnancy, mention of abortion, 18+

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob took a little detour on his way home from work on Monday. He was so in love with Molly, and she just didn't seem happy. She hadn't even texted him all day. He was afraid to initiate a message to her in case she was getting caught up on sleep, so she was either so exhausted that there was clearly a problem, or she was mad at him.

He wasn't happy that one of those things was probably true. But he stopped and picked up five dozen bouquets of gas station flowers and a bag of gummy bears. He watched her eat them on top of an ice cream sundae once, and it made him cringe. But he knew she'd like them.

When he finally got home, he paused just outside their front door. Bob knew she was home; he'd seen her car in the parking lot. He needed to calm himself down before he went inside, because at the moment, he felt ready to beg her not to leave him. And he couldn't do that yet.

As he unlocked the door and eased it open, he called out, "Mo?"

A few seconds later, her soft voice replied, "In the living room." He found her on the couch, all wrapped up in one of his oversized sweatshirts even though it was summertime. The sadness in her eyes momentarily faded away as she looked at all of the flowers in his hands. Molly's lips parted, and she gasped softly, making Bob's heart pound.

"Hey, Honey," he whispered, and then she was swiping tears from her eyes as she stood and threw herself at him. The five bouquets and the gummy bears ended up on the floor at their feet, but it didn't matter. She was in his arms. She was kissing him. He was in love.

"Bobby," she whispered, swallowing hard as she cried in his arms.

"Tell me what's wrong, Mo," he pleaded. "Just tell me."

She took a shaky breath and said, "Nothing's wrong right now. I just need you to hold me."

"I'll hold you. I love you." He never fully released her from his arms as he peeled his uniform shirt off and let it fall next to the flowers. Then he kicked off his shoes and led her to the couch, grabbing the gummy bears on the way. As he stretched out and pulled her down gently on top of him, she let her cheek rest against his chest. It was very obvious she'd been crying, but instead of asking about that, he asked if she wanted to watch a murder documentary with him.

"Yes, please," she whispered, and he pulled the blanket down over them as he turned the TV on. He fed her gummy bears one at a time and stroked the soft skin of her neck, his full attention on her instead of the show. Soon she was sound asleep, and Bob moved incrementally until he was able to stand with her in his arms, and he carried her to bed.

A little while later, after he put all the flowers in water and got himself something to eat, he made his way to bed as well. When slid underneath the covers behind Molly, she turned to snuggle against him and whispered, "I love you."

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Molly was surprised she'd been able to hold it together at home, but work was a different story. The antiseptic smells of the emergency room kept setting off her stomach, and she was running out of ideas for places to vomit discreetly.

The one positive thing she had going for her was that the asshole doctor that she hated was being promoted. She would soon be seeing far less of him. But there was still the glaring fact that she was pregnant. And she couldn't decide what to do about it.

She should have told Bob by now. She knew that. But she just couldn't bring herself to destroy her relationship with the most perfect man on the planet. He loved her. He loved everything about her. Including the fact that he thought she was on birth control that worked. She had in fact assured him that she was on birth control and that he had nothing to worry about.

The mere idea of her as a mom was laughable. She'd seen her sister do it, and while Everett was the sweetest child in the universe, she knew she probably wasn't cut out for parenting. It looked way too hard. Especially for a single mom. She didn't know if she'd have any sort of maternal instinct. Watching Ev was different, because she wasn't really the one making decisions on his behalf.

It was probably better just to go through with an abortion and never mention this to anyone. But every time she thought about it, the guilt crept in. Did Bob have the right to know? She couldn't decide. It was her body, not his. But what if he actually wanted to have a child with her? What if he would stay and help her? Actually want to be involved?

All she seemed to be able to do every night now was curl up on Bob's chest and try not to cry too much as she fell asleep. Last night they had sex, and she turned the lights off just because she just knew she was going to cry. But he'd been gentle with her, made love to her. As if he knew something was still wrong even though he couldn't figure out exactly what.

Molly threw up in a plastic bag three times on her way home from work as she double checked her math. She had to be between six and seven weeks along. When she called her gynecologist, they gave her an appointment for two weeks from today. And she had stopped taking her birth control pills. But she was very tempted to just visit a clinic and call it a day.

Tomorrow she was supposed to meet her sister to help her pick out a wedding dress. She could get through the weekend. She could go to the clinic on Monday. That would give her a few days to work up the nerve.

When she walked inside, Bob was already home and wearing jeans and a nice shirt. Molly's eyes went wide as she looked at him, but he was already shaking his head.

"We don't have to go to the Hard Deck, Honey. We can stay in."

"I forgot," she whispered. Truly, she'd been unable to think about anything except the fact that she was pregnant. She looked up at Bob as he approached her. She was pregnant with his child. Somehow this information washed through her as if for the first time. She and Bob did this together. "I'm really tired."

"Let's stay in then," he whispered, kissing her forehead as she melted against him. His big hands and his sweet voice were all over her as he pulled her toward the living room. "You want one of the murder shows? Or a shower? Or just bed?"

Molly knew he'd do whatever she wanted, and she nearly told him right then what exactly was wrong with her. But she just whispered, "Bed."

He took her by the hand, and she let him take care of everything.

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Bob went out to breakfast with Bradley and Ev the next morning while Molly met her sister to look at wedding dresses. He was trying to stay in the moment, trying to enjoy spending time with them. He'd indulged in the idea that Everett might be his nephew someday. He'd let his mind wander to the very amusing idea that Bradley and he could be brothers-in-law. But at the moment, it hurt a bit to think about it. He told Bradley that Molly still seemed upset.

"What makes you say that?" Bradley asked cautiously, glancing at Everett playing a game on his phone.

"She's been acting strange for the past few weeks. I can't get her to talk to me." Bob felt helpless as he said, "I just want to make her happy, but I don't think I actually know how. She's gotta be planning to move out."

Bradley shook his head. "No. It has to be something else? Work?"

Bob just shrugged. "I wish I knew." He reached for his wallet to pay, but Bradley beat him to it.

"It's my turn," he insisted. "I think you should head home and talk to Molly now. I bet they're done shopping and getting margaritas or whatever they're doing."

"Mimosas," Bob whispered. "Molly likes mimosas."

"Right," Bradley agreed. "Let's just skip the batting cages, and you can get home and talk to her since I'm sure they must be done with mimosas."

Bob just nodded and barely managed to say goodbye as he walked back to his truck. He paused in front of a vintage clothing shop window, looking inside without really seeing anything at first. Then a jewelry case caught his eye, so he ducked inside.

"What can I help you find?" asked the young woman who worked there.

"That's pretty," he said as casually as he could, pointing out a gold ring with a cluster of diamonds arranged to look like a flower. It reminded him so much of Molly's tattoos that his heart ached for her.

He thought about leaving and going home to wait for her, but then the woman asked, "Oh, that one's beautiful. Fifteen diamonds. It's been appraised. Do you want to know the price?"

But Bob shook his head and just said, "I'll take it."

He sat in his truck with the pretty ring in his palm, watching the sunlight catching on the diamonds. It was too perfect to leave it inside the shop when it looked like it had been made for Molly. But he couldn't give it to her now, not when she still seemed unhappy.

He tucked it away in the glovebox for some point in the future. Because first, he needed to get her to talk to him. No matter what it took, he'd find a way to get her to open up. He'd find a way to make her happy again. Because now he knew that he could.

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Molly was so tired, she felt like she'd been hit by Bob's truck. Every time she tried to walk into the dress shop where she could see her sister looking at the ugliest dresses, she had to double back to her car to throw up again. She was almost twenty minutes late as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand and walked inside.

She knew she looked bad. The only thing she wanted to wear was one of Bob's extremely soft undershirts and some old yoga pants. But the response from her sister was even worse than she thought it would be. "There you are. "What's wrong? You look terrible."

"Nothing," she insisted. "Did you pick one out yet?" Her voice sounded lifeless to her own ears.

"No, I was waiting for you. I can't do this kind of thing without you."

Molly's heart ached a little more as she sighed. She walked around and snatched up the prettiest dresses that she could see her sister wearing when she married Bradley. "Try those on. I'll be in one of the chairs."

Molly watched her sister eye her suspiciously before turning toward the fitting rooms. She tried to be as encouraging as possible about the dresses, tried to say all the right things, but apparently she was transparent.

"Molly, please. Talk to me," her sister begged, and then she was wiping a tear from Molly's cheek. She wasn't even aware she was crying again, but she jumped up out of the chair, and then the tears came faster.

As Molly took off toward the back corner of the store, she started sobbing. When she couldn't go any further, she spun around. "I fucked up," she gasped. "I fucked up so bad."

"Molly," her sister gasped, reaching for her. Molly was in her arms immediately, trying not to cry on the wedding dress she was still wearing. "It's okay to talk to me about it."

But Molly was crying too hard to talk. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and she started shaking. She could feel her sister rubbing soft, soothing circles against her back before she took Molly's face in her hands and waited.

"I'm pregnant."

She gaped at Molly before asking, "What did Bob say when you told him? He's upset?" She looked so concerned and seemed unsure about what she should do to help Molly feel better.

"I haven't told him," Molly whispered as she was pulled into another hug.

"Molly. How long have you known?"

"About a week," she gasped, tucking her face against the softness of the only person who really cared about her since their parents died. The only person until she had Bob. "I suspected it before that at least. I didn't think it was actually possible at first." She was hiccupping between words. "I just thought my cycle was off. But then I took a test the other day. And then I took a lot more tests."

"Molly, were you using birth control?"

"Of course!" she wailed. "I'm not stupid! I work in healthcare!"

"I know, I know," she soothed, rubbing Molly's back. "I was just checking."

"But I switched from one pill to a different one," Molly whispered. "I did everything I was supposed to fucking do! How could I have let this happen?"

"Shh," her sister whispered. She was sobbing again. "Does Bob not want to have kids with you?"

Molly pulled away from her and threw her hands up in the air. "How the hell am I supposed to even know that?!" she asked, loud and sarcastic. "I've only known him for like four and a half months! We have never, not even once, never talked about having kids together! I know he likes them. He loves Ev and Piper, but that's different."

"Molly, you have to tell him."

"No," she said vehemently. "No way. I'm so mad at myself. I don't want him to look at me differently now. I told him I was on birth control. I promised him there was nothing to worry about." Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I can't tell him. But he knows something's wrong. He thinks I'm going to leave him, and honestly, maybe I should."

"Don't say that," she whispered, scowling at Molly. "Don't say that about Bob."

"Exactly!" Molly raged, because now she was getting to the root of things. "That's exactly it! You don't even worry about me anymore, because I'm with Bob! I finally got my shit together. I'm finally dating a good guy. A stable one who actually loves me! He loves me! Or he did. I can't believe I fucked this up. It was perfect!"

She knew she shouldn't have said it, but it was too late. Instead of feeling like a real adult now, she felt like a child. Molly sank to the floor at her sister's feet and cried, burying her face in Bob's undershirt. And then a sales clerk came over just as her sister tried to sit down with her.

"Excuse me, but you can't just crawl around the floor in one of our dresses. And you shouldn't be crying near them either."

Molly glared up at her, silently daring her to say one more sentence. "Fuck off, lady. Your goddamn dress will be just fine, okay?"

The woman bustled away as Molly turned to her sister. Her voice was calmer as she said, "I'm not going to tell him. I'm going to pretend to go away for a couple days, get an abortion, and then never mention any of this again."

"Molly. You can't. That's not fair to Bob. You need to tell him about this." And now Molly was afraid she was about to make her sister cry as well, but she couldn't help it.

"So I can end up like you?" Molly asked, making her favorite person in the world freeze in place. "No, I know, and I'm sorry, but there's not always going to be a Bradley waiting at the end of the tunnel, okay? You got lucky. Everett is the perfect kid. And somehow you upgraded from Danny to something much better. But I'll never get this lucky again. I'll never, ever find something better than Bob. And I don't even know if I can be a mom. Because I've seen you do it, and it's actually fucking impossible, okay?" She was now crying and laying on the floor, inhaling the scent of Bob's undershirt. "It's either leave Bob or get an abortion and never tell him. And I know I can't bring myself to leave him."

Molly excused herself and got to her feet, swaying a bit as she headed for the exit. Once she was outside, she threw up on the sidewalk.

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Bob was waiting at home, sitting on the couch and looking at all the things Molly had added to his bookshelves since she moved in. There were so many photos of her with Everett, and a handful where her sister was in the photo, too. He reached over and grabbed one of Molly from seven years ago holding newborn Everett in the hospital. That was the brightest smile he'd ever seen on her face, and he was so happy someone had captured it.

When the front door opened, Bob jumped to his feet. As happy as Molly looked in the photo he was holding, right now she looked downright miserable. He set the frame aside and went to her, knowing this conversation needed to happen.

Bob gently wrapped his hands around her biceps and pulled her close. "Molly," he said as firmly as he could when she was looking up at him with watery eyes. "Something is wrong. You've been miserable for weeks, Honey. You need to talk to me. I need you to talk to me!"

She started shaking, and Bob's eyes went wide, an apology already forming on his lips. But then she whispered, "I don't want to tell you."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She let him take his time as he gathered his thoughts into the words that would hurt him the least to say out loud. His voice was a little ragged as he met her eyes and managed to say, "If you're unhappy here with me, I won't blame you for leaving. If there's someone else, just tell me. I'll never blame you, Molly." He nodded against the thick lump in his throat, his vision a little blurry now.

But she burst into loud sobs in front of him and shook her head as she cried. "That's not it, Bobby. That's not it at all."

He held his hands out helplessly at his sides, and she slipped her arms around his waist. When she buried her face against his chest, he let his hands come to rest on her back. On his undershirt that she was wearing. "Just tell me, Mo. I'm begging you to tell me."

"I love you," she said, looking up at him as tears trickled down her pretty cheeks. "I love you too much to tie you down. I swear, Bob...I didn't do it on purpose."

He was so confused, he felt like crying, too. "Molly," he whispered, taking her face gently in his hands and wiping at her tears. "I don't know what you're talking about. What didn't you do on purpose?"

She sucked in a sharp breath and said, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh." That tiny word escaped him before he could really sort it all out. Pregnant. She was pregnant. Surely she hadn't been beating herself up for weeks over this? She was pregnant. If Molly was pregnant, then that meant he was responsible for making it happen. He got Molly pregnant. His hands fell away from her face just as he realized he'd taken too long to respond.

"I know I promised you I was on birth control," she said, taking short ragged breaths. "I switched pills, and...something happened. And maybe we should have used condoms for a few weeks, but this really shouldn't have happened! I'm so sorry!"

When she closed her eyes again, body wracking sobs took over, and she looked like she was going to pass out.

Bob wrapped his arms around her, and she tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let her. "Shh," he whispered next to her ear. "Molly, take deep breaths, okay? Deep, slow breaths, Honey."

As she started to get control of her breathing, Bob wondered how far along she was. Would she start showing soon? How was she going to be able to work in the emergency room with a pregnant belly? Would they let her take time off? Would he need to sell this condo and get them a bigger place?

The ring. The pretty ring was in his truck. If Molly was pregnant, maybe Bob wasn't the reason she'd been so unhappy. Maybe she was just anxious about how he'd respond. He kissed the top of her head as she wiped her eyes on him, and he told her, "I love you, Molly." He'd give her the ring today, pull a full Bradshaw on the situation.

She whispered, "I know we've only been together for a few months. If you can't trust me after this, I completely understand. And if you don't want me anymore... I guess I can understand that, too."

Now Bob felt like he might pass out. How could he not want her? Not want them? He was holding onto her, trying to speak. But once again he was taking too much time!

"Listen, if you don't want to be involved, that's fine," she whispered, not quite meeting his eyes now. "I'm... thinking about having an abortion on Monday. There's a walk-in clinic near work. And if you want me to leave...I can move out."

He needed to speak instead of thinking things through. "I want you," he swore. "I'm never not going to want you."

"Bob," she said, face crumbling again.

"Molly, please don't leave. Don't leave me." He could feel his heart breaking. She was talking about moving out. About having an abortion. "Please." The last thing he wanted was to live without her.

"You'll still want me? Even if I terminate the pregnancy?" she asked, laying it all out for him.

"Yes. But Molly...I would love to have a baby with you."

"Really?" she asked, seemingly surprised. "Because I don't know if I'm ready for that," she added so softly as more tears dripped down her cheeks.

He kissed the tracks of her tears and whispered that he loved her until she stopped crying. "I want you. And I want a baby," he told her, tipping her face up so she was looking him in the eye. "I would love that. But I don't need it. What I do need is for you to stay with me, Mo."

She searched his face, and Bob had never felt so vulnerable before. He'd never felt so much love before. Just as he went to gently rest his hands on Molly's belly, she shoved him violently away from her.

"Fuck," she gasped, nearly tripping over he own feet as she tried to get away from him and run down the hallway. And then he heard her vomiting into the toilet.

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

Molly let her cheek rest against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Her eyes were closed, but she knew Bob was there as well now. She wasn't exactly sure how she was still throwing up. She'd barely been eating. Even though she was starving, nothing would stay down. And she started to wonder why she hadn't gone to the clinic already. Why was she suffering through morning sickness if she was going to terminate the pregnancy?

When she rolled onto her stomach and tried to stand, Bob's strong hands were there, guiding her steadily upward. She felt pathetic as she looked up at him. He was perfect, and she was wrung out on the bathroom floor. He was everything, and she was just his careless girlfriend who couldn't do anything right.

"Let's go get in bed," he whispered, and she nodded as he led her out of the bathroom. He looked so sad. She wanted to ask him why he was sad. She was the one who was sad. She was the one who had to make a decision and live with it. But right now, the only thing she could do was let Bob guide her into bed.

"I'm so fucking tired," she said, letting her head come to rest on the pillow. "I feel awful all the time."

Bob reached out and ran his knuckles along her neck, making her eyes flutter closed. "Get some rest, Mo."

She cracked her eyes open and reached for him. "I want you to stay here," she whispered, and then he was in bed with her, and she was falling asleep on his shoulder.

When Molly jolted awake, the room was getting dark. She was laying on Bob's chest, and he had one arm around her as he held his phone in the other. "Are you okay?" he asked, those greenish blue eyes focused right on her. When she nodded, he kissed her forehead.

"How long did I sleep?"

"Four hours," he replied softly.

"Four hours? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You needed sleep, Honey. You still need a good night of it, so I'm going to feed you and help you shower, and then I'll bring you right back here."

She swallowed back a sob, mouth dry and stomach growling. "I can't eat," she said with a little laugh. "I keep asking myself why I'm still suffering through all of this if I don't even want to be pregnant."

Bob was quiet for a beat. "Are you absolutely certain you don't want to.... keep it?"

As she studied his handsome features, she slowly shook her head. "The only thing I'm certain about is that I couldn't force myself to leave you."

He sighed and wrapped her up in a tight hug. "Stay. Stay forever. We can make it forever. You know that, right?"

Forever. What a concept. Impossible. But a lifetime? That was real. "Bob... how do I know you won't leave?" But as soon as she said the words, she realized how foolish she sounded, because she knew, she just knew he wouldn't.

"Molly, I can't show you my heart. I can only describe it," he said softly as she buried her face against him. "I feel so much love for you. I've been running ragged in my mind, trying to figure out why you were so unhappy. I just want you to be happy. And it's from my heart that I can promise I'm not going anywhere. And it's from my heart that I am telling you that if you think you might want to keep our baby, then I am one hundred percent onboard. I'm ready. I don't need to think about it. I decided about thirty seconds after you said you were pregnant that I want to do everything with you, including raise a child. If you let me."

And now she was crying again. Because this was the reason she'd put off making a decision. She wanted so badly to hear him say these words. She thought she could do it if she didn't have to do it alone. She knew she wasn't as strong as her sister, but she also knew that Bob was her ideal. He was nothing like Danny.

Molly eased herself up and guided one leg over Bob's waist. He was looking up at her with a soft, sincere gaze, but he looked so nervous, like he was waiting for her verdict. When his hands came to rest hesitantly on her thighs, she bit her lip to try to stop her tears. She was so tired of crying. All she wanted was for Bob to make her something to eat so she could go back to sleep.

She smiled softly, because she knew what to say now. "Bob, I'm really fucking scared. But if you still want to be in a relationship with me...if you want to do this together...then I'll keep the baby."

To her surprise, Bob pulled his hands away from her thighs as he started crying. He pushed his glasses up to his forehead and pressed his fingertips to his eyes. "I just need a minute," he whispered, his voice unsteady. Molly watched him cry as he gently shook beneath her. But a moment later, he was sitting up and she was straddling his thighs as he pulled her close and kissed her. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere. We're having a baby."

She laughed as he kissed her lips softly. "I love you, too, Coach Cute Glasses." She giggled as she imagined a tiny, cute Baby who looked like Bob with a pair of wire frame glasses. And Bob was smiling now too as she said, "Just don't do anything rash like tell me we can get married, okay? I feel like that's something you'd say."

"Oh," he said softly, pulling her a little closer as his smile faded a bit. "Okay. I won't."

She kissed his neck and inhaled his scent. "If I ever decide I want to get married, I'll let you know," she told him as her stomach growled.

"Let me feed you," he said, helping her out of bed. "Let me take care of everything right now."

Molly decided to let him.

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

Bobby about to get everything? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 9

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the-au-thor · 3 months

Text

Bestfriend Blurb #5 | Spencer Reid

This one's for the beautiful creature who kindly asked me for another blurb and gave me ideas for it. I know is not exactly what you asked for but this is the first part of your request. Hope you can enjoy it!

This is part of a series of blurbs that you can find down below:

Summary: Spencer and Reader are bestfriends who are in love with each other but they don't know it yet. Let's see how they find out.

Words: 1.5 k

Warnings: Go to this link!

"Are you okay?" you asked casually from your seat to Spencer, who was enjoying a glass of iced tonic water with lemon slices and mint. "Want to leave? We can go."

He smiled playfully and shook his head. "Of course not. Enjoy your margaritas, and we can leave when everyone else does."

That night marked the end of your exhibition. A photography magazine even interviewed you, which you found utterly crazy. The whole team attended the gallery, including a couple of other FBI agents and your old friends from college. After the gallery, Penelope and Emily insisted on celebrating at one of their favorite karaoke bars. When you arrived at the bar, Spencer extended his arm in front of you, palm open, asking for the keys to your car and officially declaring himself your designated driver. "You don't like driving," you argued, but he flashed one of his childlike smiles and shook his head, "It's your night, and I know you want to enjoy your margaritas. I'll drive us home."

Home.

Spencer's apartment had been infested with mold a couple of months ago, requiring urgent renovations. You couldn't resist pointing out it was due to lack of ventilation and his habit of keeping the curtains constantly closed. His landlord promptly announced that Spencer needed to leave the apartment for him to repair the whole mess before the mold spread to other units. That was the day Spencer became homeless and the day he started calling your home his own. It wasn't strange for him to bring his things to your apartment and take up the guest room. You got used to his quirks, like his clinical cleaning sprees when anxiety hit. Being roommates with Spencer was great, but what you never got used to was the warm and terrifying feeling whenever Spencer called your place "home."

"It's been a very long day," you murmured. "I'll have this last margarita, and then we can go," you promised, relaxing back into your seat, watching Derek and Savannah share a drink while following the music of a song Penelope and Emily were singing—or rather, destroying.

Lizzie, by your side, sipped her gin and tonic with a somewhat strange look. She seemed miles away inside her mind.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

She snapped out of her reverie, momentarily startled.

"Nothing."

"If something's bothering you—"

"No" she quickly answered.

"Yes," you insisted confidently.

She furrowed her brow. "No."

"Yes," you retorted, imitating her gaze until she finally rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you're a pain in my ass. I'm just tired; it's been a long night," she admitted, then smiled, nudging your shoulder. "But I'm proud of you; you stepped out of your comfort zone and succeeded."

Your cheeks blushed slightly, but you couldn't deny it. You were happy to have done it, and finally, the photos you had taken over the years saw the light. You took the last sip of your margarita and hopped off your chair with a light skip. Amir and Emma, your old college friends, convinced you to join them for one last song before leaving—a karaoke favorite: "I Want You Back" by the Jackson 5, full with choreography.

"That was amazing. It's always so much fun when you guys do that," Spencer exclaimed with a smile as he put on his jacket.

You had introduced Amir and Emma to the team years ago, and they occasionally met up in a bar to catch up and sing. Karaoke had become a tradition, and it wasn't the first time Emma, Amir and you pulled off such a performance you had prepared during your college years.

"It is fun. Maybe we'll convince you to join us someday," Amir replied with a smile, not expecting an immediate response from Spencer. He planted a kiss on each of your cheeks and cradled your face affectionately. "I'm so proud and jealous of you. The exhibition was fantastic. If you weren't doing such a wonderful job at the FBI, I'd try to persuade you to leave it for photography," he said, bidding you farewell and hugging Spencer.

You said your goodbyes, knowing that Emily, Penelope, and Lizzie would stay a bit longer that night. You and Spencer left the bar, facing the cool night as you crossed the street toward your car parked on the edge of an alley.

"Oh no," Spencer whispered, searching for something in his bag before getting into the car.You looked at him, furrowing your brow as he stepped into the passenger seat. "What happened?"

"I left the notebook you gave me at the gallery... do you think we can go get it now?"

You patted the inside pocket of your jacket where the keys to the gallery were, keys you would return tomorrow when picking up the photo frames you left hanging. You nodded, getting into the car.

"With all that eidetic memory, and you forget your notebook at a gallery," you teased, laughing, and then nodded again, making the keys jingle outside your pocket. "Let's go."

"It'll only take a moment," he promised quickly.

You knew how important that notebook was to him. You had given it to him as a kind gesture a few years ago. You didn't know him well then, having recently joined the BAU, and you had made an effort to get along with everyone by giving them a small gift to break the ice. It had worked wonderfully with Spencer. You still didn't know why that little notebook had made him so happy or why it was imperative for him to carry it everywhere, but the thought that he liked it so much pleased you.

"I hate that these things have so many locks," you complained, unlocking the last latch and pushing the door open for Spencer and you to enter the gallery. You turned to the entrance to switch on the lights. "Do you remember where you left it, or do we have to comb through the whole pla—?" Your sentence cut off because suddenly, you were breathless.

The walls were no longer adorned with your photographs (the ones you had left there just two hours ago). You silently took a step forward to scrutinize the first large canvas. You looked at Spencer, who was studying you attentively with a mischievous smile trying to hide.

"What is this?" you asked with an excited smile, not really knowing what to make of the photo that had immortalized the day when everyone decided to go for a long walk and picnic. On the way back, Penelope had twisted her ankle, and you and J.J. had decided to carry her in turns. In the photo, you were holding Pen in your arms, both smiling tiredly at the camera. "Spencer?" you looked at him again, waiting for an answer.

He smiled at you again, this time slightly moved, and took your shoulders to guide you to the next photograph. "You always portray us so we won't forget the good times we spend together," he explained, stopping you in front of a picture where you were painting Henry's face while wearing raccoon ears and having your face covered in makeup. You were sitting in front of him looking concentrated, while the little guy smiled with his eyes closed. "I don't want you to forget that you, too, are worthy of being photographed, and these moments are important."

Moved, you looked at him with teary eyes and turned back to hug him.

"That's why Lizzie was acting strange. She knew," you said when you ended the hug.

Spencer smiled."Yeah"

"Did you come up with this? Only you?" And he nodded "why?"

He furrowed his brow, looking at the photograph and then at you. "I don't know," he honestly admitted. "I just wanted to make you happy."

Your heart skipped so strongly that you couldn't stay near him without doing something foolish.

You looked around, distancing yourself from Spencer to explore the gallery at a safe distance, seeing all those photos he had compiled. Then you answered back.

"Just look at me, Spence," you pointed to the photos. "I'm already happy."

And you were. You were happy with him. For him. You were happy with your work and your friends. Right now, if allowed to exaggerate, you were the happiest person on earth.

You walked a couple more times, remembering those moments with Spencer, laughing at the anecdotes encapsulated in each photo. Occasionally, in silence, you wondered why you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You were calm, though, as if you had been anesthetized by that emotion you felt when seeing Spencer's surprise. In the silence of the place that accompanied you and Spencer, it would never feel forced or uncomfortable.

Peace.

Happiness and peace.

On the way home, you carried with you the trunk full of photographs that Spencer had taken the trouble to print and hang in the gallery. You didn't know where to put them in the apartment you shared, but you couldn't leave them lying in the gallery, not with everything they meant to you. They weren't special because you were in them; they were special because they were Spencer's gift, because he had taken them.

You brushed your teeth after taking a bath and changed into a loose and comfortable pajama. You walked down the hall to Spencer's room and tapped on his door gently. When he opened it, he was, like you, with wet hair and ready for bed.

"I just wanted to thank you for today," you murmured, then gave him a broad and honest smile. "It's been the best day I've had in a long time."

Spencer's eyes did that thing they usually did; they smiled, rising with appreciation and something more, a kind of intimacy that cut through the air in your lungs and made you feel dizzy.

"It's nothing," he replied. "I'm glad you liked it," he said, embarrassed.

"Goodnight, Spencer. Tomorrow, I'll make gratitude waffles."

Spencer accepted without hesitation; he couldn't refuse your traditional mountain of waffles with melted chocolate in the middle and small bacon muffins decorating the plate.

"Goodnight," he bid you farewell. "See you in the morning"

You hurried your steps to your room and locked yourself in as if you were escaping something dangerous. Your heart started pounding again.

He was so special, Spence. You just couldn't live without him. He was just....

Panic ran through your veins with adrenaline. You threw yourself onto your bed, typing quickly in your chat with Lizzie.

"I like Spencer."

Three simple words, and three dots that moved hyperactively on Lizzie's side of the chat.

"Okay, good. Now try again." She finally wrote back.

You bit your lips until they hurt.

"I love Spencer."

Another three simple words, but now they were the right ones because just writing them made you feel like a heavy burden had left your body. Your lungs filled with air again, and tears welled up in your eyes without you realizing they had been waiting a long time to be released.

"I mean I'm also in love with him" you clarified.

"Ding, ding, ding!!" She wrote back as you locked the screen and let out a tiny scream.

You stretched out on your bed with this new realization knocking you out, and you looked at the ceiling completely relieved. Many things now made sense, and at the same time, everything looked terrifying. You were in love with your bestfriend. The man who was in his room sharing home with you.

Spencer, on the other hand, stood behind his bedroom door, where he hung the only photograph he decided not to show you in the gallery because it was too accusatory. Derek had taken it when they went for coffee in Utah during a challenging case investigation. Derek waited for them in the table while you and Spencer decided what to order at the counter. You were studying the menu written on a huge blackboard with concentration while Spencer smiled at you, playing with your hair, unbeknownst to you.

That photograph made him think about all the times he had done that without realizing it. He became even more aware that he didn't touch people, but certainly he didn't have that problem with you. He felt vulnerable but also free. And as he looked at the photo with a smile, he wondered why the hell, when you asked why he had bothered to prepare that surprise, he didn't answer that it was because he had recently discovered that he loved you.

He was in love with you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid bestfriend blurb #bestfriend blurb #spencer reid x bestfriend!reader #bestfriend!spenced reid × reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid friends to lovers #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #criminal minds fanfiction

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thewertsearch · 4 days

Text

TG: i thought about taking his sword TG: when i was there TG: but i couldnt TG: couldnt really bring myself to try to pull it out it was too weird

Even if you did, you’d have to break it in order to wield it - and unlike your regenerating sword, I don't think Bro's katana will be very effective as a half-blade.

GG: dave we have to stop him!!!!! TG: what GG: jack! […] GG: why dont you stop jumping around through time like a maniac and stop being like a hundred daves all the time and come to my house so we can make a plan to kill him??

I’m liking this new, more pro-active Jade. With Rose distracted by Doc Scratch's games, we probably need a new leader, and I think Jade could fit the bill.

However, I don’t think any number of Daves would be enough to take Jack down. That’s exactly what Aradia tried, and we all know how that turned out. If a thousand telekinetic necromancers can't put a scratch on him, I don't think Dave will fare much better.

TG: besides we cant beat him TG: look what he did to bro and davesprite together TG: im at the top of my echeladder with all the fraymotifs and i stand no chance

Dave’s already stronger than Future Dave was when he came back to the past. His progress is astounding - but the session's power creep has got so bad that it doesn’t even matter.

Like - let's imagine, for a second, that all four kids attacked Jack with their full power, right now. If they all synergized perfectly, taking full advantage of John's hurricanes, Rose's Horrorterror connections, and all the time duplicates Dave can make....

They'd still be reduced to a fine mist.

Jack has inherited a power strong enough to raze the entire Earth, and none of the kids can touch him. Becsprite initially seemed like an opportunity to match that power, Sun-to-Sun, but Vriska, for her own godforsaken reasons, nixed that plan.

The kids have got nothing. Even their plan to cheat by destroying the Green Sun is probably hopeless, because we know it ultimately serves Doc Scratch's ends, not ours. Things are really dire.

TG: only thing we can do is hold out until the scratch GG: what is the scratch? TG: guess i shouldnt really say TG: since you sort of lead the way in making that plan

And then there's the Scratch plan itself, which is apparently Jade's idea - although I'd be extremely surprised if Doc's grubby little fingers weren't all over this one, too.

Opening rifts in space is certainly Jade's department, so I think she's going to suggest it as a counter-plan to Rose's more risky Sun strategy.

TG: if we cant beat him TG: all we can really do is exile him to a place where he cant teleport back TG: which hopefully buys us some time TG: to try to take out his power source in a crazy suicide mission

A two-pronged approach, then. They trigger the Scratch, push Jack through a rift, and then send Rose's dream self out to destroy the sun before he's able to return.

...man, this is such a dangerous idea. Even if it wasn't being influenced by Doc, it'd still set off some huge alarm bells.

Like - sure, destroying the Green Sun might help this session survive, but what about every other session? Don't they need the Sun, to power their non-corrupted First Guardians? I just think we should maybe think for a second before deleting a critical piece of the reproductive mechanism for the entire multiverse.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s109 #3204

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gatitties · 8 months

Note

HEY! I really hope your requests for TokREv are open because I had an idea plagued in my mind since this morning!! It defiantly changes canon, takes places after Kisaki gets kicked out of Toman! What is reader is his older sisters (19-20) and she finds out about what he did and she's pissed! Like she has ties with yakuza so she is able to get info on where mikey and his friends are hanging out and she shows up, dragging hanma and Kisaki by their hair/ears and she looks really scary before she just forces the two on their knees infront of the Toman captains and forces the two to apologize before she herself apologies for her brothers behavior and she's really sincere about it and promises Mikey that they'll never here from Kisaki Tetta or Hanma again, bows then just leaves, still dragging the two trouble makers behind her. This can be crack or fluff or serious. Headcanon, fic, scenario. Its really up to you, I just want to see this idea play out please.

─Tokyo revengers x kisaki!reader

─Summary: You discover something you don't like about your little brother and decide he needs to apologize

─Warnings: none

Oh this was fun to write, a interesting idea!!

"Don't fuck with me…"

You massaged your temples after one of your friends had told you some information about small teenage gangs, having friends from the yakuza gave you the privilege of finding out about all the acts of vandalism that were about to happen or had happened, you always met with them to spill the tea on gang gossip.

And while you found some of the stories about teens fighting each other entertaining, you didn't fully support that behavior. Finding out that your little brother was involved in a group like that didn't please you very much. Even though you weren't the best sister in the world, you had to draw a line in his behavior for planning to destroy a group of friends. You didn't mind that he got into fights because you knew that he wasn't the typical one to throw punches, you knew that Hanma, his friend, would do it for him, but they would learn the lesson that violence wouldn't lead to anything good on their own.

But it was something different when you saw all the ins and outs that went into his main task, you weren't going through that, he wasn't going to go through that, trying to destroy people just out of contempt or trying to impress someone, in no way had you been taught those ethical values at home, your parents would be disappointed if they found out, you did him the favor of keeping that information to yourself, however, his actions were a hard blow to your morale.

Your friends talked to you a lot about fights, but also about respect, just like how they raised you, and a mistake comes hand in hand with an apology, whether it was sincere or not, depended on your brother, although it would be on your part.

That same day you entered the house, hearing the voices of both teenagers, a grimace on your face, still somewhat grumpy at their behavior, you didn't even knock on the door to ask if you could come in, you walked in with long strides, looking at the duo with a frown as Tetta looked back at you.

"What's up with knock the door and respect privacy?"

"What about having a minimum of values and not manipulating people?"

He looked away clicking his tongue, Hanma just smiled slyly, he even seemed amused by the situation because he couldn't give more than a damn about that whole Toman betrayal thing.

"You shouldn't care what I do or don't do with my life decisions, get out of my room."

You let out a sigh of surprise at the aggressiveness in his words, looking stunned as he even approached you to push you out of his room, a bad decision, when his hand touched your shoulder to push you, you put him in a headlock, holding his head.

"What the hell!? Hey, let me go!"

"I'll let you go when you apologize to that gang! What you have done is disrespectful and a stain on your morals."

He squirmed in your grip but you stopped him from letting go, although a laugh made him escape from your deadly hold, you turned your head slowly to see Hanma laughing heartily at your struggle, your eyes turned into burning flames, you used your dominant leg to kick the door shut while cracking the bones in your knuckles, they had pissed you now.

"Shit, did you have to laugh at a time like this? She's going to kill us."

Younger Kisaki muttered to his friend, his face paling at the sight of your completely serious expression, though Hanma didn't seem to take it seriously until he spent at least half an hour locked in the room with you. A few knocks on the door made you step back, you adjusted your clothes and hairstyle, smiling when you saw your mother open the door.

"Have I heard screams? everything is alright?"

"Perfectly, mom, we were just playing Uno, and you already know how wild the game is."

"Oh yeah, you two hate losing at Uno, anyway, don't you want something to snack on?"

You looked back, Tetta tried to say yes to get rid of you, knowing that your mother would kick you out of his room if he complained asking for privacy for himself, but you cut him off with just a look.

"Don't worry, I haven't spent time with my dear brother in a long time, I'll take him for ice cream!"

"Oh how nice, bonding time, then I'll leave you, be careful and have fun!"

When your mother left you looked back at the duo, they gulped at the sight of your mischievous smile. One of your friends had told you that just today Toman was having a meeting, so it was the perfect time to apologize, you dragged them both by the earlobe, letting their complaints be music to your ears.

Everyone tensed when they saw that both former members appeared, interrupting Mikey, who narrowed his eyes as he watched you drag them towards the first step of the stairs where he used to give his speeches, everyone remained silent, watching your next move.

"In the name of…" you pulled them down, making them kneel, you doing it with more grace and softness, still looking directly at Mikey " this two idiots, I apologize for all the problems caused, with all my heart, I promise that they will not bother you again, if so, I will take care of punishing them again."

You lowered your head, hearing a snort from your brother, you hit the back of their necks, hearing some murmurs that sounded like apologies on their part, although perhaps only Mikey and Draken could hear it since they were the closest. The two leaders of Toman looked at each other perplexed by the scene, they shared a smile, Mikey nodded towards you, ending the meeting.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

You nodded in the same way as farewell, still dragging your brother and his friend by the ears, once out of sight of all those teenagers ─who were surely laughing at the strange situation─ you let them go, your face softened slightly and you let out a breath you had been holding.

"I hope you two have learned your lesson… now, let's go get some ice cream."

"Ice cream won't solve the pain in my ear."

"No, but maybe you want me to keep stretching your ear until you can get a damn dilation."

You said under your breath, noticing how Hanma stood next to you, obediently, not knowing if it was because he didn't want to know anything more about your punishments or because of the ice cream, Tetta gave up easily, crossing his arms and mumbling here and there, but accepted the ice cream, after everything he had endured today, a refreshing snack wouldn't hurt, he needed to cool his mind to recalculate his plans and make sure you never found out again about the things he was planning.

#tokyo revengers #tr #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x fem reader #kisaki reader #fem reader #kisaki x platonic reader #platonic reader #hanma #hanma x reader #request #reader instert #x reader #sfw #toman #toman x reader #scenarios

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stillebesat · 1 year

Text

*vibrating a normal amount*

GUYS. There is a Lazarus Pit somewhere in the BATCAVE.

So. Apparently at some point. Bane and Batman (probably not together? I'm sorry I'm just going off of a wiki) were both going around destroying Lazarus Pits.

ONLY.

Batman eventually found out that the Lazarus Pits are actually needed to keep the world stable. You can't destroy them all. That's bad. Very bad.

And so he decided to create his own and where would he put said pit? In the safest place he knows.

The Batcave.

Because he knows that's like the one place that Ra's will never get to so therefore The Demon Head will never use it.

But like can you imagine the DP X DC possibilities?!?!

Like what if the person who told Batman that destroying all the Pits was bad was the Ghost King?

What if Danny was the one who helped Batman to pick out a safe location in the Batcave as well as design the holding area for the Pit/Portal so that it would remain stable and be unlikely to hurt any humans?

What if the increased ectoplasm in the area makes the Batfam more liminal?

What if the increased ectoplasm in the air allows certain ghosts (Bruce's Parents, Dick's Parents, etc) to become more visible?

What if, depending on the timeline of just when the Gotham Lazarus Pit is created, if it was created sometime after Jason's death but before his revival....it's ectoplasmic presence helps to fully revive Jason. He forms a core in the coffin. His mind returns to him without the LoA having to get involved. He instinctively uses ghost abilities to escape from his grave without having to dig his way out. He returns to his family.

What if the Pit was created while Jason was with the League. And he's dealing with corrupted ectoplasm from that Pit. But when he finally finally ends up in the Cave (maybe he's severely injured and has to stay there for a while?) the pure ectoplasm in the Cave helps to filter out the corrupted stuff and helps him form a core then?

What if Jason feels like he can never go home because he's been replaced, he has too much blood on his hands....and yet the moment he steps foot in the cave or steps foot in the manor he feels like he's come HOME. And he has no idea why he feels so safe and protected there and why it's so difficult for him to want to leave when he's HOME until a while later when he finally discovers the presence of the Pits.

What if Batman created the Lazarus Pit on his own and he or some other family member accidentally becomes a Halfa in the process?

What if Ghost King Danny feels the presence of a new connection to Earth opening up and goes to investigate and discovers the Batfam?

What if Phantom (injured maybe, possibly in desperate need of a new haunt) comes through the portal/pit after they're created and feels the presence of another halfa (jason) or else feels a 'connection' to the Batfam in some way and ends up making Gotham his new home? (Found Family AU)

Also. Like. Could you imagine the freak out that Batman would have the first time an actual ghost came up through the pit? And if said ghost wasn't Phantom? Like nothing in his research mentioned creatures emerging from the pit itself! What is he to do?!

He created the pit in the cave to keep it safe from Ra's but he had no idea that the pits would come with their own 'problems.' And now suddenly there are these beings from the Infinite Realms hanging around the cave and he's desperately trying to research just who these beings are and what they're capable of and trying to find contingencies just in case they're more evil than gremlins. Plus HOW does he keep them from entering the cave itself?!

Imagine Technus messing with the technology in the cave. Skulker borrowing weapons to augment his suit. Johnny taking the Batfam's various motorcycles out for a spin.

Like...guys. There are soooooo many possiblities. So many.

#DP x DC #Lazarus Pits #Batman #Danny Phantom #Ghost Shenanigans

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ineffable-endearments · 4 months

Text

I always felt like Good Omens was about free will not only as an individual thing, but as a systemic issue. Since it was first published, there was always an aspect of the story that explored systems and how they exert pressure on people. This flowed into an exploration of ways people can take responsibility even when everything is too big to handle alone. A lot of it seemed, to me, to be about just showing up and doing your sincere best even when you weren't quite sure how it could all work out.

All this to say that I don't feel that the...pressure? coercion? Aziraphale may have been feeling about going to Heaven can be handwaved away entirely. There is a System and the pressure it is putting on him is real, not just fluffy nonsense in his head. He knows what Heaven does to dissenters. He knows what they were ready to do to him. Seventy-five percent of the time, he chooses to ignore it, but he knows. In fact, I think it's a bit of a feedback loop in which the fear of consequences leads Aziraphale to believe Heaven has to be right after all because the alternative is intolerable.

I've never seen any satisfactory explanation for what Heaven would do if Aziraphale insisted on saying "no" to the Supreme Archangel thing. As we see from Crowley's trip up there in disguise, the very best Aziraphale and Crowley could hope for would be to be left alone for a little while until Heaven destroys the world, except in that scenario, they wouldn't know anything about it until it started happening because they'd be off being clueless. This is Good Omens, so humans would almost certainly save the world again, but with all his anxiety around control this season, I don't think Aziraphale is in the headspace to be placing that bet right now.

And where did that anxiety around control come from? Heaven, of course.

I don't love the idea of dismissing the coercion of a system as massive as Heaven because Heaven feels like an analogy to real-world structures. Like, are we going to suggest that people can just magically break free of their religious/cult/authoritarian influences and face no serious repercussions from the people around them? That is usually not the case, and in many situations, those repercussions are so bad that people don't actually have a choice but to stay silent.

I can definitely embrace the idea that Aziraphale has actively decided to put on a happy face and believe the best of Heaven because of the sunk cost, the need to feel good and useful, and the fear of punishment, but I can't embrace the notion that he has a real, free choice.

I'm working on a long, long post about this, about the real central issues I believe Aziraphale is facing and how I think the primary mistake the narrative wants him to address is the manner in which he talked to Crowley during the Final Fifteen, and the complicated stuff he's going to have to disentangle before he can figure that out. This post didn't exactly fit there, but I wanted to post it separately because of the amount of chatter I've seen lately about Aziraphale.

Anyway, getting in that elevator most likely wasn't the mistake. How is it a mistake if you probably don't have a choice in the first place?

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lazycats-stuff · 8 months

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Hii, can I request a follow up from the secret weapon!reader? Yk the one where they didn’t know much about his past but than find out because of the scars? Can you do one where during a mission they come across his father? Maybe his father is trying to kidnap him or manipulate him into working for him again?

Sure thing! It feels like I never closed my requests. Okay, lets hurt my baby. This gif is too cute. Batfamily & male!reader - part 1

Summary: (Y/N) is still recovering from telling everyone his past. Everything goes wrong on a mission.

Warnings: attempted kidnapping, fluff, angst, boys love their brother,

(Y/N) was still recovering from the attack. He wasn't still cleared to go out on the field and to Bruce, patrol was still of limits. Bruce started looking for (Y/N)'s father, just ready to bring him down. He wasn't a threat like Ra's al Ghul, but he still was a threat if he did this to children?

Bruce was still shuddering at the thought of those scars. No child should go through that. Not even Ra's al Ghul was so harsh with his punishments. He looked at the time on the Batcomputer.

He really needed to take a break. Despite the fact that there was an upcoming mission and the amount of things he had to go over with his kids, but he knew that he had to take a break. He promised to (Y/N) that he would take breaks.

He stood up from the chair, putting it back into his place. He sighed as he rubbed his face. (Y/N) was right. Breaks were a great idea. He needs to get Tim on board too.

He got back on ground level, looking for some coffee. He stopped by the living room, smiling at the sight of (Y/N) napping with Jason on the couch. The couch wasn't small by any means, but they still squeezed on it.

(Y/N) was worried about how he was going to get treated after he told them the news, but his brothers didn't care about it. They cared for him none the less. After they talked about it, (Y/N) opened up a lot and they discovered that he was a tactile person.

His love language was psychical touch. They were happy to see (Y/N) more open and it seemed like a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders.

Bruce also talked to (Y/N) about going to a therapist. He talked to Black Canary and she was more than happy to help (Y/N) talk out his trauma and what he has been through. (Y/N) said that he wanted to wait and Bruce agreed with him.

It's not good to force him. (Y/N) will go when he wants to go. Black Canary also said that he shouldn't force him to go.

Batman looked at his sons who were getting ready for the mission. (Y/N) was cleared by Alfred and (Y/N) was finally happy to get out on the field. The boys were happy too, just ready to get back into the grove.

Everything is fine now and more importantly, everything was normal now.

Bruce was a little bit worried about this mission. It was to infiltrate a base that was under the League of Light. They had a plan to get intel and destroy whatever weapons there are. They had some intel that there was Venom, but they didn't know how much.

So there was a chance that Bane could be there. That was one thing that worried Bruce about the mission, but other than that, everything was fine. The Justice League was going to back them up, with Wonder Woman and Superman coming to help them.

Bruce didn't need to say that this was a undercover and covert mission. Once Bruce briefed everyone and made sure that everyone knew what to do and how to do it, they got on the plane without Superman.

But Bruce was a little bit worried about this mission. There was something about this that he had a bad feeling about. Sure, it was the Light and they were dangerous, but there was something more to it.

Bruce couldn't pinpoint it and he hated it. His boys were sleeping at the back, since the base was at a very remote island. He glanced at (Y/N) who was sleeping on Jason's shoulder.

Wonder Woman turned to him, eyes moving to see where he was looking.

" Tell me, what's bothering you? " Wonder Woman said, seeing that Bruce was bothered by something. Only years of working together will give you an ability to see if something was wrong with Bruce.

" I have a bad feeling about this mission. There is something about it that I can't pinpoint. "

" Could it be with the Light? Something about them? " Wonder Woman tried.

" It could be. But I feel like there is more. I still don't know what. " Bruce admitted, turning his head to look forward.

" I have no doubts that we are going to find out. But I know we are going to be fine. Your sons are going to be fine with you watching over them. "

Bruce nodded, seeing that they were getting closer. He unbuckled his belt and stood up, moving to the back of the plane to wake his sons up. He shook them awake and they all groggily woke up.

" Come on, we are almost here. " Bruce declared, moving back to the front. He heard some mumbling from his sons. They were clearly tired, but the adrenaline would get them going.

After a few minutes, they left the plane. It was eerily quiet on the island and dark. (Y/N) looked around. It was a tropical island, but there was something off. (Y/N) looked around a little bit.

Why was this island so familiar to him?

(Y/N) walked up to Bruce and Bruce leaned down, seeing the discomfort on his face.

" What's wrong? " Bruce whispered into (Y/N)'s ear.

" I feel like I've been here. It looks familiar. " (Y/N) whispered back and Bruce patted his back. (Y/N) was most definitely going with him.

" Alright, we are going to split into teams of two. (Y/N) is with me, Jason is with Wonder Woman, Damian is with Superman and Tim and Dick, you two are on your own. " Batman said and everyone nodded.

" Lets go. "

They moved quietly and they surrounded the base. They took out a few guards and Batman made sure that (Y/N) was near him all the time. Either next to him or behind him. Bruce hacked into the room and they saw a man whose back were turned to them.

" Hello son. "

Bruce's eyes widened, before collecting himself and running towards the man, ready to bring him down. Deathstroke had a completely other idea. Roped wrapped himself around Batman's ankle and he was sent backwards.

(Y/N) was shocked by it. He didn't hear a thing. His father finally turned around and (Y/N) remembered everything he went through.

" The traitor is finally here. " He said, making (Y/N) clench his fists.

" And the bastard is here. " (Y/N) replied.

" (Y/N) we are going to be at your location in a few minutes. Stay put." Jason said to (Y/N) through the earpiece.

" Do you really think that they are your family? I am your family. " His father has said, making (Y/N) see red.

" They are my family! They don't torture me like you do! " (Y/N) yelled at him.

" I have seen you fight. You got sloppier. We need to change that. "

(Y/N) didn't have time to blink before his father jumped at him. (Y/N) wasn't going to go down with out a fight. No way in hell. (Y/N) groaned when he was slammed into the wall. His head was hit too and his vision swam a little. He was thrown across the room in the next moment.

He saw something as his father was taking something from his pocket. A syringe. (Y/N) was about to get up to fight once more. Jason blow up a wall and jumped at (Y/N)'s father. He was insulting him with curses and insults that (Y/N) has never heard before.

Batman came in quickly, knocking (Y/N)'s father out. He was breathing heavily, clearly angry. He took a deep breath to calm down. (Y/N) was still on the ground, trying to get up.

Bruce quickly helped him up and hugged him tightly. (Y/N) returned the hug. His father was going away for a long time. Bruce was going to make sure that he did. No matter how many strings and favors he had to pull and get, he was going to put him away for life.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #platonic relationships

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befuddled-calico-whump · 2 months

Text

Total $hit$how: Good Cop

in which Jericho cracks a wall

cw: aftermath of violence, adult language

previous // masterlist //

×~×~×

When Harbor's hour was almost up, Jericho made his way back to the briefing room, a hopeful plan at the ready and a nervous feeling in his gut, every step closer to the door jiggling at his nerves like jello.

The word interrogation didn't exactly fill his head with pleasant images. In movies, it was usually portrayed as torture, ineffective on the protagonist but shockingly useful against any minions the heroes snatched for intel. In real life, he'd experienced something like it once or twice. Corporate cronies trying to grill a confession out of him; entrapping questions intended to get him to admit to anything they could twist into something worthy of an arrest. Those were some of the scariest moments of his life, and even though he'd insisted on his own ignorance, in the end he was only saved by a lack of evidence of his hacking activities (hacktivities?).

Jericho's own encounters had been pretty mild, but he still wasn't eager to put anyone else through it.

Then again, this was just a challenge, wasn't it? Succeeding didn't mean they'd suddenly be required to hurt Finley, it only meant Sahota wouldn't kill her. If they managed to win, maybe they could pursue Joy's original idea and just talk to the woman. Whether she was a hardened criminal or not, surely she'd be willing to help if she knew the safety of the city was on the line.

…But that was all a big if. Unless Harbor had managed to pull a trick out of his hat, no one had been successful so far, which left Jericho. Jericho going toe-to-toe against Sahota's boundless willpower. No big deal, just a stranger's life hanging in the balance.

If he failed, could they still back out?

There were other avenues. Both Sahota and Vic had been clear on that, but the group's own insistence had gotten them to this point. If they completely gave up on Finley as a lead now, they'd have just wasted a day, and he doubted Vic would be very happy about that, but between wasting a day and throwing away an entire person, Jericho knew what he'd choose.

From the moment the challenge was announced, he knew what method he'd be using. Bad-cop good-cop, sans the bad-cop. In his experience, difficult people could be swayed to a cause if the reason behind it was just explained, if he pled to their humanity and compassion. And sure, some people were so far up their own bias that they'd refuse to listen, but it was worth a try.

Hell, it was how he got Ari to take a chance on asparagus.

He was prepared to act on the same technique he'd use if they actually won, if they got a chance with Finley: Just talk. A conversation might be all they needed. The Reality Cage was potentially destructive. If Finley knew that, knew what was at stake, wouldn't she help them? It wasn't even as if she'd be responsible for destroying it. She'd just have to tell them how. Some part of her had to exist that would want them to succeed, to save people.

Jericho was inclined to believe that the same could be said about Sahota. He'd given them this chance in the first place, hadn't he? Why let them try at all, unless he wasn't too keen on killing Finley either? If that was true, if this was more than just a lesson in their own inadequacy, Jericho had hope that this whole mission wouldn't wind up as violent as he feared.

Footsteps drew his attention back to the corridor ahead, and he looked up to see Harbor, head drooping, wild multicolored hair obscuring his face. His walk was usually something between a sway and a stumble, but it looked more erratic now, with him nearly bumping into the walls as he went.

“Hey,” Jericho started, but his voice caught when his gaze landed on Harbor's hands. His knuckles were red, skin splitting in some places, blood drying in the lines of his fingers. Totally cut up, and not from the morning’s sparring matches, so that meant… Jericho’s stomach twisted.

Sahota.

Harbor didn't look up, passing right by him as if he wasn't even aware he was there.

“Harbor—”

“Fuck off,” he said in a voice that sounded bitten off, and disappeared around the corner. Jericho had to stop himself from chasing after the other man, from asking what happened.

It was pretty clear what had happened, but why? Harbor was rough around the edges, but he didn't seem like the kind of person who enjoyed hurting someone else, especially not a someone else who was already injured. A part of him hoped that he was jumping to conclusions, that Harbor had just… punched the wall or something to try and intimidate their trainer. But before he made it to the end of the hall, before he could even open the door, he knew what he would see.

An anxious sort of nausea built in Jericho’s stomach as he took in the scene, deliberately avoiding the focus of it as long as he could. The briefing room had been cleared, the big table pushed to one side to make space for the day's challenge.

In the center, tied to a chair, sat Sahota. Blood and spit hung from his face in sticky strands, and his head sat heavy atop his shoulders, like he was struggling to keep it up. His cheek was split, the cut on his lip reopened and dribbling blood, and the eye that had been bruised was now nearly swollen shut.

Jericho’s heart beat faster.

“Is your plan just to stand there?” Sahota mumbled. “Or do you have a better idea?”

And he was just acting like it hadn’t happened. Jericho had already gathered that Sahota didn't like to show any weakness, but this was bigger than pride. Their trainer had been hurt, while he was tied down, by someone who was supposed to be on their team.

“Are you okay?” He clearly wasn't.

“Fine.”

“Did Harbor do this?” Why was he asking such stupid, obvious questions? Why couldn't he make himself step forward to untie the other man? Because of how little he wanted to believe it was true? Because of how surreal it was?

“I… I told him to,” Sahota replied.

What? Hadn’t he warned them all not to do anything he couldn’t sleep off? No matter how tough Sahota was, this didn’t look like it fell into that category.

“Let me cut you loose,” Jericho said, finally breaking a leg free of the uncertainty that held it captive, taking a step closer.

“No,” Sahota said, and he froze in his tracks. “Do what you came to do or get out. I don’t need your help.”

Jericho grimaced. “Should we really continue? You should get cleaned up, maybe—”

“I said I'm fine.”

Same song, different verse. He'd said he was fine yesterday, even after they'd all seen the video that so clearly told them he wasn't.

“Sahota…”

“Davis,” he answered in a clipped tone. “If you can't ignore the blood, leave.” He took a shaky breath, coughed, sent little flecks of red flying. “Tell me what information you're after and pursue it, or get out.”

Jericho exhaled through clenched teeth. It was pretty clear that no matter what he said, their trainer was determined to suffer through this. Was there any point in continuing? He could just leave. Walk away, abandon Sahota to his own wounds and pride, but it didn't feel right. What would happen? How long would it take Sahota to get free on his own? Better to finish the exercise and hope his trainer allowed help after it was completed.

“Okay,” he said, letting out a resigned sigh. “I want to know your first name. That’s what I’m after.”

“Then get on with it.”

Jericho took a deep breath. Ignore the blood. How was he supposed to do that?

“Hey,” he began, forcing a smile. “My… uh, my name's Jericho. I have a few questions for you, and…” he couldn't stay on track with this. He couldn't just pretend Sahota wasn't actively in pain in front of him.

“And I'd like to apologize for any rough treatment you received before I got here. It… that wasn't my intention,” he said. “I didn't want to hurt you.”

Sahota scoffed. It sounded closer to a wheeze. “Do you think Finley will buy that?”

“I don't… Maybe.” Jericho sighed. “Let me start again. Hey,” he said. “You… uh, you have some information that I need. Pretty badly." Everything he said just sounded dumb. "I want to know your name. Sounds weird, I know, but this… you could help me stop a lot of people from getting hurt.”

“What if she doesn't care?” Sahota said.

“There's hundreds of thousands of people in this city,” Jericho continued, trying not to let the other man's words deter him. “Right now, all of them are at risk. If you’ll just work with me here, we can keep them safe.”

Sahota didn't answer. And really, he had a point. Even if Finley did care about the well-being of the city, she’d have no reason to believe anything they said. How could they convince her?

“My family doesn't live here,” Jericho tried. He was truly thankful that they didn't. Having to worry about their safety, their potential destruction at the hands of an uncaring company would be terrible.

“My mom, daughter, aunts, uncles, cousins… they're not the ones in danger," he continued. "But people like them are. I’d never be able to sleep again if something just… destroyed people's lives. Something I could've prevented.” He clasped his hands together, hoped the motion looked sincere. “That's why I'm here. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be your enemy. I just want to help people.”

Jericho sighed when that didn't get a response. He shouldn't be too disheartened. Sahota probably just didn't have much energy for conversation. Not after Harbor… did that. He glanced down at his own knuckles, still sore from fighting the taserbots just a few days ago. He'd saved Harbor. He’d thought they were finally starting to meld together and work as a team, but teammates didn't do this to each other. Even if Sahota had ordered it, why would he take it that far?

“I'm sorry about what happened,” he said. “I know someone on my team hurt you.” He swallowed. “Whoever… whoever touched you was in the wrong. You didn't deserve to be hurt like that, and… I'm sorry.” He was. He really was. He'd need to find Harbor after this. They could talk it out.

“I won't let it happen again,” Jericho said. “If someone tries to touch you, just let me know, okay? I'll stop them. I know I'm basically a stranger, but I promise I want to help you. I promise you're not alone. I—”

He stopped at an odd noise. A catch in Sahota's breath, a sound that was oddly familiar but out of place. It took a second for Jericho to realize that Ari made a sound just like it sometimes. When she was trying not to cry.

“Sahota?”

No answer, just another shaky inhale. Shoot, he knew he shouldn't have proceeded, not when he was all beat up like this. Even with Finley on the line… Vic be damned, he'd fight for it to be nothing more than a wasted day. He was fine abandoning the lead, he was fine admitting defeat here.

He wasn't fine leaving Sahota like this.

Jericho exhaled sharply through his nose, crossing the room in two strides to reach the chair their trainer was strapped to and setting to work on the knots. Surprisingly, Sahota didn't tell him off this time, just sat with his head bent and his shoulders shaking.

Why was he crying? Of course, Jericho couldn't blame him. He was probably overwhelmed with everything that was going on, and this was just the straw that had broken the camel's back. But what was ‘this’? What had been his breaking point? Had something he said triggered it?

He fumbled with the ropes, eventually managing to find a weak point in each knot and pull them loose, letting the bindings coil to the floor.

Now with his arms free, Sahota buried his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” he whispered in a thick voice. “I… I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jericho said, taking a step back. The other man refused to look up. He could understand if he was embarrassed. Holding up an emotionless, unshakable facade all the time must be exhausting, but it would also be jarring to ever let it drop. He got it.

“The exercise is over,” Sahota said, still not raising his head.

“Alright.” Jericho couldn't let himself be mad about it. He'd given it a try, but if their trainer was just too overwhelmed right now, and no way was Jericho going to push him further. They could worry about Finley later. “Seriously though, are you okay?” he said. “There's no shame in not being fine. I know you're under a lot of stress.”

It took a moment for the other man to respond. “Go wait by the mats. I need to reset this room.”

I need some time alone.

“Okay,” Jericho said softly, backing towards the door. “Do you… want a hand getting patched up?”

“I'll handle it.”

Alright. He wouldn't push him. “Okay,” he said again. “I… guess I'll give you some space.”

It felt like it was all for nothing. Their idea for a peaceful approach had already resulted in violence, and for what? They’d all failed. They were no closer to their goal than they'd been yesterday.

He had one foot out the door when Sahota called after him.

“Davis.” It wasn't loud. It sounded uncertain, like he might ‘nevermind’ him and send him on his way. Jericho turned around, determined to be patient, to show he was at least willing to listen, even if their trainer said nothing else. But instead of sitting silent, instead of ordering him off, Sahota spoke. His head stayed bowed, hands tangled tightly around each other, eyes on the floor.

“It's Ander,” he said. “My name is Ander.”

×~×~×

tag list:

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight

#ive been sitting on this for too long #it's not perfect but its gotta get out there at some point eh? write and don't look back too hard #total$hit$how #aftermath of whump #blood #beaten #angst #whump writing

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bluecatwriter · 5 months

Text

This idea, based on the Blood of My Blood AU, got stuck in my head and I had to write it! (Sorry @animate-mush, the cylinders didn't make it into this scene because I was trying to keep it from being like 10,000 words long, alas.) Featuring Jack with his prosthetic hand and destroyed vocal cords, and Vampire Quincey Harker trying to make sense of what he is.

Big TW for suicidal ideation.

~~~

Jack was up late, as usual; he'd just heard the clock strike midnight, but he was scribbling corrections on the latest draft of his paper about therapeutic treatments for epilepsy, due the day after tomorrow to a scientific journal. He paused to push up his glasses and scrub at his eyes. Even though he'd been keeping a nocturnal existence for years, he felt exhausted.

He heard a soft knock on his door.

He looked up in surprise; Lu was usually fast asleep by now, and Arthur would not have knocked. But why would one of the servants be disturbing him at this hour? He turned his pen over and tapped it against his desk three times, which signaled to come in. However, the door didn't open, and then the knock came again. Ah. He knew exactly who it was, now.

He walked quickly to the door and opened it. Quincey Harker stood in the pitch-black hallway, his pupils contracting as light from Jack's study flooded in on him. He was even paler than usual, and trembling slightly.

It was remarkable how much he managed to look like both Jonathan and Mina: he carried himself like his father, that same grave politeness, but had the quick, clever look about him that Mina had always had. "Dr. Seward," he said, his voice sounding empty. "I need to talk to you."

Whatever he was here for, it couldn't be good. Jack nodded to him, ushering him inside, and gesturing him over to his desk. He cleared the papers and set up a one-handed typewriter (they had one in every room of the house, in case Jack needed to mention some technical language that they didn't have a sign for yet). He bade Quincey pull up a chair so they could sit next to each other, and he put in a fresh sheet of paper. He wished Quincey knew his sign language, but this would have to do for now.

Jack gestured to him, raising both eyebrows to invite him to speak.

Quincey hesitated a long time, clenching and unclenching his hands on his knees. At last, he spoke with a dead serious voice. "Dr. Seward, I need you to kill me."

For an instant, he couldn't breathe.

He heard Mina's voice in her son's: the vow he had taken, the vow he had failed.

But he also heard his own words, typed out on a typewriter very much like this one, letter by letter since he wasn't fluent yet, as Arthur stood there with tears in his eyes.

>>Let me die<< Jack had typed, all those years ago.

And Arthur had said, "No."

(That day, Jack had grabbed the typewriter with his remaining hand and hurled it through the window.)

(And then he had kept living.)

He shook his head, trying to rattle himself back into the present moment, to this child— this vampire child, this child who should not be able to exist— trembling in the chair before him. Quincey was staring at his hands now, his breath stuttering as if trying to hold back tears, and Jack had to reach over to touch his shoulder to get him to look up at him.

Quincey raised his head; his eyes were brimming with what appeared to be blood, which sent a stab of alarm through Jack before he wondered if this was how vampires cried. Focus, he told himself. He reached out to the typewriter and typed one word on the blank page:

>>Why?<<

Quincey gritted his teeth, and held his chin up almost defiantly. God, he looked just like Jonathan right then. "Because I am a monster."

Jack stared at him: the blood welling up as tears, the pallor of his skin, the fangs protruding from his mouth. All the elements that had once raised only fear and terror and disgust in himself.

Without looking away from him, Jack placed his hand on the typewriter and typed out the words: >>Who told you that?<<

Quincey stared at him as if the answer should be obvious, and Jack raised his eyebrows again, keeping his face calm.

"I read the journals that Lord Godalming gave me," Quincey said, staring at him as if challenging him.

Jack gave out a small, pained sound, and slumped back in his chair. Of course Arthur would do something like that. Of course Arthur would want to share the documents, to not keep secrets. And yet, Arthur had so little to lose by doing so: he had barely any words of his own in the collection of documents. But Jack's words… all those things he had said and done, the record of his wrongs and mistakes, seemed to rise from the past and choke him.

"I read Papa's words," Quincey continued, still staring him down with those crimson eyes, "the stories of the way he met Father. Everything I've known— everything I am— is horrifying to him." His gaze was steady, but his fangs bared. "And to all of you." The blood-tears slipped from one of his eyes and dripped down his face. "I need you to kill me."

Jack reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. Then he decisively shook his head, and mouthed the word, No.

"You have to!" Quincey burst out, shaking off Jack's hand and jumping to his feet. "You know what I am! I've learned what I am through your words. I thought you of all people would understand!" He whirled to face him again, and the snarl on his face sent all the hair on Jack's neck rising in instinctive fear. "What about Lu's namesake? You were disgusted by her. You loathed her. You said yourself that you would kill her with pleasure when she became like— like me!" He was shaking so hard he looked like he might fall apart.

Jack fought to keep his expression calm; every word hit him like a knife, as if Jonathan's son was slashing into his throat as surely as Jonathan had. (Any moment he would wake up drowning in his own blood…) But these were old wounds, and though they bled anew, the pain was familiar.

Once again, Quincey seemed to have forgotten that Jack could only talk when Quincey was looking at him, and he had to put a hand on his shoulder again. Quincey pulled away, but he had his attention now. Jack motioned to the chairs, and Quincey sank down, blood-tears now trickling down his face.

Jack hesitated a long moment, unsure how to sum up everything he wanted to say. No, it was impossible. So he typed three words:

>>I was wrong.<<

Jack gulped, staring at the inadequate words he'd typed. He looked at Quincey with all the remorse he felt, wishing desperately that Quincey understood sign language. It was like being back to the beginning of his great silence, when all he could do was scrawl illegible words on paper, or pick at the typewriter to learn to type for the first time. He pointed at the words again, and with his prosthetic hand he beat his breast in a sign of penitence.

Quincey just stared at him, at a loss. Jack made a nervous hum, then started to type, trying to get his typed words to keep pace with his thoughts.

>>You don't have the whole story. When your mum began to turn, your papa loved her just as much. He never stopped loving her.<< He paused, making the only rumbling sound that his throat would make, frustrated at how hard it was to put his thoughts into words this way. >>In the end, he defended her from us. I paid the price for trying to harm her.<<

Quincey's eyes grew wide. He had stopped crying, and the blood was drying on his face now.

Jack held up his prosthetic hand meaningfully, and touched the scar that snaked along his neck. And how could he convey the enormity of the other losses— of Quincey and Van Helsing bleeding out in the snow? He would never forgive the Harkers for that. But he did not need to. >>I did what I thought I must do. So did he.<<

He might not have forgiven them, but he did not blame them.

Quincey slumped in his chair, his shoulders dropping. When he looked up, there was something incredibly young and vulnerable in his face. "…Doesn't that make you hate me even more?"

The old Jack would have hated him, perhaps. But he was not his old self. He was not a 29-year-old who felt invincible in his pride and intelligence. He was not a man who drew hard lines and separated everything he experienced into those two sides. He was fifty now, silent for 21 years, and had learned to live with the complexity of gray, of nuance, of the ache of not knowing.

If Quincey could understand, he could have signed all this. But Quincey could not, so Jack just typed, >>You are proof that love can survive in all places.<< He paused, then added, >>You are a good man.<<

He didn't expect Quincey to burst into tears again, but he did, hunching over in his chair and sobbing. Once, Jack had not known what to do when someone broke down, but now he did not hesitate, leaning over and wrapping both arms around the boy. Quincey leaned into his hug, still sobbing messily. "I'm not, I'm not!" Quincey wailed. "I'm not…"

Jack wished that he could speak the words aloud, could repeat over and over, You are a good man.

Instead he just hugged him, holding him as he rode the wave of emotions, trying to help him learn, as Jack himself had once learned, that the answer to Please let me die would always be No.

At last Quincey cried himself out, and his breaths grew longer and slower. Jack pulled away and offered him a handkerchief, trying his best not to be unnerved by the amount of blood-tears that had marked his jacket (Arthur was going to have another nervous breakdown when he saw the stains, he thought with a sigh).

When he had Quincey's attention again, he pulled out the sheet of paper, and tore off the last line, pressing it into his hand. >>You are a good man.<< Jack smiled at him as best he could, willing him to believe it.

Quincey gulped. And then slowly, he nodded, crinkling the paper in his hand. With a little sob, he slumped over again, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack pulled him back into a tight embrace.

He doubted that Quincey believed him, at least not at the moment. But he didn't need to. Jack and Lu and hopefully even Arthur would believe it for him. And someday, he hoped that Quincey would believe it for himself, too.

~~~

#my writing #blood of my blood #quincey harker #jack seward #dracula (novel)#suicidal thoughts tw #now i'm second-guessing some of it but y'know what i'm posting it anyway

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nunalastor · 4 days

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Hello! A continuation of Snow White + Tangled AU (and I really need a name for this, I welcome suggestions)

When Lucifer regains consciousness, he realizes 3 things. 1) Lilith's office is destroyed. 2) His...Lilith lied to him. 3) He took off his ring for the first time since she left, and he doesn't know what to do about it.

He just doesn't understand, what did Lilith gain by lying to him? What did she gain by giving him false hope that one day he would get his daughter back? What did she gain by reassuring him by telling him that everyone in hell was looking for Charlie?

He thinks about it and...believes he could understand her. He definitely would have understood if she had told him she didn't want a baby, he wouldn't have demanded anything from her. If Lilith just wanted to rule hell she could have done it, he would have been happy to give Charlie his full attention, he would have let Lilith remain as free as ever while he was a father. So, yes, he understands that it wasn't a priority for Lilith to find Charlie, but why take the option away from him? Because that's all Lilith did, right? She just lied to him when she said they were looking for her daughter, right?

Definitely...her daughter had been kidnapped by that sinner, perhaps with some terrible ideas in mind...Lilith just took advantage of the situation...right?

He can't...he doesn't want to think about that right now. He puts his ring in his jacket and goes to look for some toys, clothes and photographs to take to his daughter. He promised to bring her proof.

When he returns to the hotel, he shows his daughter all her things, everything he treasures, he tells her that her room is intact and that she can go see it if she wants. Her daughter looks at everything almost with...indifference, she touches the dresses and thinks the toys are cute, she looks at the photos and says she recognizes herself in them, but she doesn't seem to feel anything.

He understands, their time together was so short, he doesn't expect her to run into his arms (he definitely does). He tells her that he knows it will take time, but that he really wants to be a part of her life. He tells her that he is very sorry for the terrible experience she had to go through, he apologizes for taking so long to find her, and that he really wants to be her father.

It is to this that he gets a reaction from her. Charlie frowns, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she looks at him again, she tells him that she will be... happy that they can start getting to know each other, that he can visit her whenever he wants, even if he is not very busy, she will reserve a room for him in the hotel so that he has a place to arrive. But he must understand that she will also be busy, she has a business to run.

She also asks him not to attack her father when he sees him. He tries to protest, but she interrupts him and asks him to understand, regardless of what he believes or what the truth is, the only father she has ever known is Alastor, and that if he wants their relationship to move forward, he must accept that Alastor was, is and always will be part of her life. She tells him that this private meeting between the two of them was Alastor's idea, so that they could talk calmly and determine the basis of their relationship.

Lucifer doesn't want to agree to that, but for now he'll accept it. He just has to show HIS daughter the life that sinner took from her by kidnapping her. He will give her everything she could want.

---

Charlie is...uncomfortable with all this sudden attention.

It's not that she's used to being ignored, quite the opposite. Her first years in society she had respect and attention for being the daughter of the Radio Demon, until she began to garner her own respect. And contrary to what most people in Hell may think, his father was not a heartless monster, he was simply very selective about who showed that soft side.

What makes her so uncomfortable is that the King's attention feels so...false? Like he's overcompensating for something.

That kind of attention is what she saw in some sinners who approached her hoping to get something from her father. That kind of attention where they just give you things and pretend to agree with everything you say.

She didn't want that kind of relationship with the King. She sincerely hoped that he would try to get to know her, and in turn she would get to know him, but even when he pretends to agree with her, it seems like he wants to impose his ideas on her, and frankly, she feels suffocated.

Aunt Rosie always told her that actions mean more than words, but she had to learn to identify when someone was sincere in both their words and actions.

Her father, for example, has always been sincere, not because his morals tell him to, but because he doesn't see the point. Yes, her dad may be sadistic and manipulative, but he is not a liar. He can be brutally honest, or he can disguise the truth, hide or omit information or be quite vague with his answers, but with her he has always been brutally honest.

When she first asked him where babies come from, he told her that there was a method in the human world, but in hell sinners couldn't have children, so he had no idea where she came from. Now, how did she get to him? In a basket.

And after the King's visit, when he told her that she was a princess, she asked her father only two questions.

Would anything have changed if he had known that she was a princess?: "Definitely", her father had no problem admitting that he would have taken advantage of the situation if he had had that information. Perhaps he would have kept her hidden until he realized that no one was looking for her and raised her to hate royalty, convince her to take the throne or give it to him.

Will things change at all now?: "It depends on you", her father doesn't see the point in things changing, she is his daughter, and if she wants the King to be her father or if she wants to be a princess (they are two different things) depends exclusively on what she wants, and as long as she wants him to be part of her life, he will be there to support her.

Charlie didn't need more, her father stepped back and let her make her own decisions. But always at a respectable distance to help her if necessary.

The King seemed quite sincere in his words, but his actions tell her otherwise.

He talks about how he misses her every day, but he never did anything to find her. She wasn't hiding in a tower or some nonsense like that, she was right there, in hell, convicting with the rest of the sinners.

And he seemed sincere when he said he wanted to be part of her life, but it seems like he just wants to buy her off by giving her nice things, say he was a good father, and leave her in some room in his palace.

She can't just have her father deal with the King the way he dealt with freeloading sinners. She simply cannot eliminate the King like she did with sinners who thought she was an easy target.

She supposes she will have to put up with the King until he gets bored. But the moment he does something stupid like trying to put a fountain of champagne or a mountain of caviar in the hotel lobby, she'll kick him to the other end of Pentagram City.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #snow white #tangled au #tangled #lucifer

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