#if anyone needs clarification go ahead and ask

[cerisahh]

can i request tdlosk jealous headcanons ?

FOCUS ON ME !

summary ꒱ how would tdlosk characters react if they were jealous

characters included ꒱ saiki, saiko, teruhashi

notes ꒱ hi anon! you didn’t specify which characters you wanted so i just did three for now. i did scenarios in which the characters are jealous and how they would react in each situation rather than a headcanon format - i hope you enjoy it! i may do a part two to this if anyone has any other characters they would like to see ^_^

KUSUO SAIKI

saiki, despite being the powerful psychic he is, has limited experience in basic human emotions.

not that he can’t feel them of course, it’s just hard for him to recognise it sometimes. often he’ll believe a new, unfamiliar feeling is just another drawback of his psychic abilities.

he’s sitting in class during break, tuning out the droning of his self proclaimed friends that are insistent on surrounding him at every possible turn, when the familiar lilt of your laugh filters across his mind.

you two don’t share the same class, but the sound of your laugh isn’t uncommon when around him - even though he never intentionally makes any jokes - so he just brushes it off.

until he hears toritsuka’s voice intertwined with yours. you’re actually conversing with that degenerate? what on earth would possess you to do that?

he decides to focus in on you two. toritsuka seems to be trying to invite you to a cafe after school. it’s of little consequence to saiki, he knows you won’t entertain or indulge in any of toritsuka’s perverted fantasies.

imagine how he visibly tenses when he hears you agree. kaidou sees his face and asks him if he's alright, teruhashi asks him if he's feeling ill, and nendou asks him if he needs to go do a number two.

saiki doesn't offer anyone with a response or clarification as he exits the classroom, every step wondering why he did. maybe, no, it was definitely toritsuka's voice grating on his last nerve.

he decides against paying the classroom you two are in a visit, he'll just... take a trip to this cafe after school too. to ensure toritsuka stays respectful and doesn't go getting any bright ideas about you.

he’s certain the school day has gone by faster than usual as he makes his way outside of the gates. you and toritsuka are walking together a little ahead of him.

saiki doesn't bother with his invisibility since toritsuka would be able to see him regardless, he just keeps a reasonable distance from you two.

you on the other hand, blissfully unaware there's a presence following you and toritsuka, are having a blast. you were the first person to welcome toritsuka to PK academy, and since then you've become quite friendly with each other. although, this is the first time you've hung out together after school.

the cafe he suggested going to was actually one of your favourites. saiki knew that too, he was the one that introduced you to it.

your meet-up is going well. too well for saiki's taste. surely you must know toritsuka's true nature? saiki can hear his thoughts. currently he’s wondering how your lip gloss tastes. he’s truly despicable.

any idiot would know your favourite flavour of lip gloss is cherry.

what saiki does next, he would not call sabotage, but simply an effort to save you from toritsuka. using his telekinesis, he sends a wave of vertigo to the waitress coming over with your drinks so that it’ll spill on toritsuka.

in a turn of events too quick to see with his precognition, the waitress trips over her left foot instead of her right, spilling the drinks all over you instead.

while saiki looks on, horrified, toritsuka takes the opportunity to help you try and remove the stains using a napkin. to no avail, mind you. but it gave toritsuka a perfect opportunity to, well, admire you, let’s say.

saiki is lucky the coffee jelly he ordered hasn’t come yet, as he would’ve unconsciously blown up the glass.

you excuse yourself to try and fix yourself up in the washroom. saiki sits and glowers at an unsuspecting toritsuka for a moment before deciding he's finally had enough of him.

using telepathy, he transmits a message directly to toritsuka's mind; 'someone's messing with your porno mags'.

it's almost too easy. toritsuka's eyes practically boggle out of his head and he races out of the cafe, scribbling a hasty message out for you on a napkin with the broken tip of a crayon. good riddance.

it isn't hard to pick out your voice in the cafe, given it's only mildly crowded. you've failed to remove the stain from your shirt. and it landed all over your lap too! what a shame. you'd have to wash your uniform again tonight.

you exit the bathroom with an apology on the tip of your tongue for taking so long, but the only apology that materialises is the hastily written one toritsuka has left for you on the table.

oh, you think, what was really so important that he had to ditch not even halfway through? did he get embarrassed because i looked so messy? it wasn't my fault the waitress tripped!

correct. it was saiki's. speaking of saiki, was that pink hair in the corner of your eye him? oh! it is! you guys are pretty close, so saiki shouldn't mind if you crash his solo coffee jelly date, right?

saiki finds that he wouldn't mind one bit.

METORI SAIKO

you could count on one finger that amount of times saiko has been jealous of someone.

having as much money as he does, there’s no point in being jealous when he could just, literally buy whatever, or whoever he wanted.

i imagine the first time he feels jealousy when regarding you would be on your birthday. stay with me here.

from the moment you wake up to the evening, he's treated you to a multitude of very expensive activities. perhaps you two take a private helicopter tour over japan, or he surprises you with a meet and greet with your idol, i definitely see him spending hours in an exclusive boutique to get you an array of new outfits.

the point is, there's no limit to what he can get you. his wealth is unfathomable, and you're treated like a princess for the entire day.

he, of course, throws you a lavish party in the evening. friends, family, and famous people attend in equal proportions. soon enough, it's time for the gift opening.

a large majority of the party goers have departed as the hours have rolled on, only your close family and your closest friends remain now.

you open saiko's gifts first, a smorgasbord of one of a kind jewellery pieces, practically a new closet's worth of designer outfits, bags, shoes and accessories, and even an exotic pet you had mentioned briefly in passing.

your appreciation and affection for him is evident as you plant a kiss on his cheek, thanking him for your gifts and for the adventure filled day he planned out for you.

saiko waves it off, exclaiming 'only the best' would ever be enough for you.

you go through everyone else's gifts then, saiko has no doubt that his were the best gifts you had received all night. these plebians couldn't even dream of topping it. not that they even could, considering the price of everything he had bought was more than they would ever see in their lifetime.

you're opening up kuboyasu's gift eventually, who is rubbing his neck with an air of nervousness as he explains your gift - a colourful and funky pair of butterfly earrings.

saiko thinks they're the ugliest things on the planet. they're nothing compared to the jewellery he gifted you earlier. much too gaudy and cheap looking. they can't have cost much at all.

so why on earth are you squealing at them like they're the finest things you've ever seen? you instantly put them on and marvel at them in the mirror, thanking kuboyasu profusely for such a thoughtful gift.

kuboyasu explains that he saw them at a market stall and thought of you and your affinity for butterflies so he had to get them for your birthday.

oh please, saiko thinks, any fool would know she likes butterflies. i got her a pair of sapphire encrusted butterfly earrings too. so what's the big deal with four eyes' gift?

as to not ruin your birthday, saiko wisely keeps his mouth shut for the remainder of the gathering. it's only when everybody goes home later in the night does he say anything.

you're both sat in the centre of the grandeur when he asks you if he liked your birthday. you, of course, give him a resounding yes and chatter about your favourite parts of the day. but all saiko can think about is those damn butterflies that are still in your ears.

you notice him staring at them and touch them with your finger, "it was so thoughtful for kuboyasu to gift these to me, don't you think?"

saiko bristles at his name and harrumphs, "they're certainly an... acquired taste". he softens a little when he notices your expression. "i don't understand. you seemed to like his gift a lot more than you liked mine. were they not up to your standards?"

it takes a moment for you to understand what he's saying but when you do you almost sigh at him, "oh, metori. you silly silly man."

you assure him that you adored the gifts he gave you more than anything, who wouldn't? your outward reaction at kuboyasu's gift was due to the fact it was so unique and unexpected - with it being the first gift you'd received from one of your new friends, and the fact that you didn't even know that he knew you like butterflies, so it was a surprise getting that from him.

ah, he thinks, your reaction was more surprise than anything! his jealousy burns little brighter than a flame now, content with the revelation and the confirmation that you didn't like four eyes more than him. it was a ridiculous notion in the first place. nobody could compare to him.

although he does take it into consideration for your next birthday, he still goes all out with expensive gifts, but he takes more care into choosing some authentic, personal presents for you as well.

KOKOMI TERUHASHI

you're a childhood friend of hers, only recently having moved back to japan. to your luck, your parents secured a job relatively close to PK academy, so you get enrolled there.

teruhashi is so excited to see you again, it’s been a few years since your last meet-up, so she has lots of gossip to catch you up with.

you two walk to school together, filling each other in on various things that have happened in your lives since you saw each other last.

you notice pretty quickly that kokomi is still as popular as ever. even just on the way to school people have been gawking at the two of you - and at least three in the last two minutes have offered you a ride to school. one guy even offered to give you his car.

skilfully avoiding the adoring masses, you two end up at school early as you’d both planned, giving teruhashi ample time to show you around a little before classes start. you’re in her class of course, after a few strings had been pulled on her end.

it doesn’t take long before you get swarmed again, having barely seen any of your new school at all. boys, and even some girls of every year crowd the two of you, asking teruhashi how she is, what she thinks of the weather, if she needs anything - one boy even asks her if she wishes to be carried to class.

ah, nothing much has changed then.

until their attention switches to you after teruhashi introduces you to them. you bow politely to the crowd. best to make a good first impression with the people that are infatuated with your best friend. you’ll probably spend most of your time in this school seeing them anyway.

“woah, it makes sense that teruhashi would surround herself with someone just as attractive as her!”

“our goddess and her disciple!”

‘what a pain. another teruhashi to deal with.’

you feel a little overwhelmed with all the crowding but try and make the most of it by introducing yourself politely.

despite your outward peaceful expression, you’re internally freaking out with all the attention on you. sure, you were aware you were attractive to a point. but these kids can’t all be that obsessed with physical appearance can they?!

the answer is; yes they are. you’re suffocated by questions and compressed by a wall of bodies. where did you come from? why did you decide to come back to japan? how long have you been friends with teruhashi? do you want an escort to class?

it’s actually dizzying. you’ve a newfound respect for kokomi’s willpower - not only having the patience to deal with these people, but also having the willpower to not verbally assault them.

teruhashi has been trying to quell the excitement since it started to small avail. her perfect facade showing cracks as her practiced smiles twitch with every ounce of attention on you.

not that she hates other people having attention on them! well, maybe a little - but not you! you’re probably one of the only people she could stand to receive attention over her. but all she can think about is how they’re taking you away from her.

how dare they! she thinks, outwardly maintaining a perfectly polite demeanour. how dare these nobodies get in our way. sure, we’re gorgeous but that doesn’t give you the right to crowd us! and to top it off you’re making it so i can’t even finish catching up with them! what do you people know about them, huh? at this rate we won’t even get to class on time - i’m putting an end to this!

all teruhashi has to do is clear her throat and the entire corridor is silent, aside from a couple students who don’t care at all moving around the congregation that’s formed around the both of you.

“i’m sorry everyone, but we have to get going to class,” a chorus of sighs and aww’s fills the air, “thank you so much for giving my friend a PK welcome, everyone has been so accommodating! have a good day, everybody!”

her dismissal, soft but firm, causes the crowd to disperse. holy shit, it’s like she had these people under mind control. you were glad for it though, that wasn’t a great experience for you.

kokomi’s cheerful presence after the fact makes up for it though, and you barely notice that she’s walking closer with you than before.

your first day goes by with no more hiccups, you almost get a repeat of the crowd at the school gates but with a flowery goodbye from kokomi to the masses, you’re off without a hitch.

you stifle a grin as you leave the love drunk boys at the gates, “kokomi, you have that school wrapped around your little finger! i don’t know whether to be jealous or impressed!”

she pretends to be flustered and waves you off with a blush. you’ve barely brushed the surface of her influence and power.

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Part 8/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"It's alright," she gave him a small smile. "Saving me was never your job anyway." - S.Z.

Masterlist

Walking through the dimly lit streets of the Undercity, Viktor led the way with a blanket draped over his thin frame like a cloak, your hand firmly clutched in his. Where you were going exactly, you didn’t know, but given your lack of familiarity with the area, it would have made little difference in your understanding of your destination. You trusted Viktor knew what he was doing, and that was enough for you. 

And yet…something was off. You couldn’t place it, like a mist that surrounded you and blocked out your senses, you were left with little to help you pinpoint the wrongness. Was it you and your hallucinations - or visions, though you sincerely hoped they weren’t - that were giving you this feeling? Or was it Viktor and his newfound abilities from the Hexcore that set you on edge? Maybe it was both. 

Viktor kept his gaze trained ahead, the blanket over his head like a hood, and his crutch, warped and changed by the Hexcore to resemble what you would think of as a wizard’s staff, was held firmly in his hand like a walking stick. He didn’t seem to need it anymore, with his new…enhancements, but he kept it anyhow. Sentimentality, perhaps. 

He seemed almost…distant. Not cold or off-putting, but like he had reached a new level of understanding that put him a step above your shattered thoughts. Yet, his hand in yours eased the worry that seeped through the cracks in your mind like viscous oil. He was still Viktor, you could sense as much, that tangible piece of his soul that made him, him. 

As he led you further into the Undercity, you grew wary of the stares the two of you were receiving, or rather, the stares Viktor was receiving. You, with your scarred skin and pink veins, were of little interest to those seeking some easy coin, but Viktor, with his new body and intricate walking stick, looked like the perfect target. 

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” you asked beneath your breath, glancing warily at those around you, huddled on the street, hoods drawn as their gazes followed you. 

“Do not be afraid, Milá, I understand now what I must do,” he said with such certainty you couldn’t find the will to argue or request clarification - though it was ominous enough to send a new jolt of nerves through your chest.

You trusted him, you did, but he’d only just woken up from the Hexcore-induced slumber, and you had no idea how it had truly affected him. 

You stumbled, your feet refusing to move as your eyes locked onto a familiar figure. Sky stood a little ways down the road, her form shimmering like a mirage in the low light of the Undercity. Her eyes were so full of light and life that for a moment you couldn’t imagine they had ever been anything but. She reached out, her fingers stretching towards you, beckoning, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Milá? What is it?" Viktor's voice cut through the fog, his hand tightening around yours.

You blinked rapidly, wiping your eyes with your free hand. When you looked again, Sky was gone, leaving only the grimy streets and suspicious onlookers in her wake.

"I-I saw Sky," you stuttered. "But I don’t think she was real. She's…gone now."

Viktor turned to face you fully, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you want to shrink away. "Are you certain?" he asked, low and thoughtful. "I could see her too."

How could he have seen her? Was it possible that your hallucinations were somehow becoming real? Or was Viktor experiencing his own visions?

Before you could voice your questions, Viktor simply said, "Come," and continued walking, pulling you along with him.

As you followed, a new awareness crept over you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes boring into your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught sight of shadowy figures slinking along the edges of buildings, matching your pace.

You squeezed Viktor's hand, trying to silently communicate your growing unease. He didn't acknowledge it verbally, but his grip tightened ever so slightly, though it did little to comfort you. The Undercity seemed to close in around you, its winding alleys and looming structures feeling more like a maze with each step.

You tugged anxiously at his arm, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. “Viktor…”

“I am aware of them,” he said, though he made no move to do anything about it. “I need you to trust that I will handle it, can you do this?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, lest your more frantic assertions of ‘no, absolutely not’ come rolling off your tongue. 

Exiting the alleyway, you made your way toward a small clearing amidst piles of broken metal and junk. Run-down tents lined the sides, covered in soot and debris. In the centre, a broken archway reached up towards the sky like a plant desperate for the dim rays of sunlight that illuminated the space. 

The shuffling of feet against the dirt ground had you tensing where you stood at Viktor’s side, uncovered and open in the middle of the clearing. 

“Careful not to scrape up the gear,” a man’s voice stammered. “Won’t sell as well.”

Fear lodged itself in your throat, your magic thrumming through your veins, crackling around your fingers. Had you not just gone through this? It had ended in you losing control and giving the Hexcore over to Viktor - a decision you still could not tell if it was right. As if sensing your unease, Viktor squeezed your hand in reassurance once more, offering you a calm smile that had you faltering in your preparations for the attack. 

He released you, and you swallowed a whimper at the sudden loss of contact. Turning to face the men, you copied his movement, only unlike Viktor, you took a step back as you saw the knives held in shaky hands, the growths from Shimmer consumption sprouting from their broken bodies. 

Would you end up like them on day?

Two men came up behind you, on all fours, snarling like wild animals, and you stepped back towards Viktor. 

“Nothing personal, friend,” the man said, his glasses broken and doing little to hide the Shimmer that spread across his face. “We just got needs we can’t ignore.”

The man jabbed his knife towards Viktor for emphasis, but Viktor remained unperturbed. 

“So much senseless pain,” Viktor spoke as he slowly moved forward, pity filling his gaze. The man backed up as Viktor approached, and you remained rooted to your spot, eyes darting to the men around you. They watched you warily, unsure of how to react to the raw power that leapt at your fingertips - though you were sure that they would attack should the others decide it was worth the risk. 

“What are you doing?” the man asked, dropping the knife, realizing he was outmatched. 

You couldn’t see Viktor’s face, but you watched with a pit of dread in your stomach as he lifted his hand and slowly, carefully, reached out to touch the man’s face. 

With a burst of violet light - the Hexcore’s power at work, moulded to Viktor’s will - his arm lit up, wind rushing through the clearing and whipping at your hair, your cloak.

You squinted, your eyes watering as they were bombarded with billows of dust and dirt. The man's body convulsed, his limbs jerking like a marionette with tangled strings. His screams were lost in the howling wind, but you could see his mouth stretched wide in a silent rictus of…agony?

You watched in terrified awe as pink and purple light arced off Viktor's hand in strange, webbed and circular patterns. He lifted the man effortlessly, his feet dangling inches above the ground. The wind tossed debris across the clearing, stinging your cheek as it sliced across the bone.

Blue energy flowed from Viktor's arm into the man's body. You wanted to look away, to run, but found yourself frozen, mesmerized by the terrible beauty unfolding before you.

The light grew brighter, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut, hiding behind your arm. Even then, you could see the afterimage burned into your retinas - a brilliant mandala of colour and power. A deafening crack split the air, and for a moment, all was still. The wind ceased its rushing, fading out to a low whisper, and you blinked the white out of your vision, tentatively lowering your arm. 

Thud, thud, as Viktor fell to his knees, holding himself up with his crutch, heaving for breath. Your immediate instinct was to rush to his side, ensure he was alright, that the Hexcore still pulsed with life inside him, but as you took your first lunging step, you pulled up short. 

The man who’d stood before Viktor, knife in bandage-wrapped hand, Shimmer growths coming from his warped body, was almost unrecognizable. His skin had returned to a healthy, flushed colour, his eyes no longer pink but blue and amber swirls. The growths had been replaced by silvery sinuous tendrils, much like the arc that Viktor had created only moments ago. He panted as he collapsed to his knees, his jaw slack and his eyes wide as he regarded Viktor like one would a miracle. Was this another of your hallucinations? It seemed impossible, there was no cure for Shimmer addiction, especially not one as advanced as his. But even as you rubbed your eyes and looked again, there he remained, healthy and whole once more. 

“You need not suffer anymore,” Viktor proclaimed, a tinny tone to his voice. 

The man tried to speak, but as a smile grew over his lips, tears brimming in his eyes, he abandoned the attempt. Instead, he bowed his head, trembling with relief. 

Those around quickly followed suit, their knees buckling as the full weight of Viktor’s claim filled them with such hope their bodies could no longer support them. 

Your feet unstuck, and though you stumbled forward, the would-be-attackers did not pay you any mind, to entranced by the offer of salvation before them. 

You knelt beside Viktor, your heart pounding in your chest like a caged bird desperate for freedom. The ground beneath your knees was a jumbled mess of rocks and debris, sharp edges poking into your skin. Viktor's eyes met yours, and you never wanted to look away again.

His gaze held such profound kindness, such unwavering hope, that it stole your breath away. The warm shifting colours of his irises seemed to glow with an inner light. Despite everything that had happened, the Hexcore, your slow descent into insanity, and now… this, you felt a sense of calm wash over you like a gentle tide.

Viktor's hand found yours, his long fingers intertwining with your own. The touch sent a shiver through you, not of fear or apprehension, but of deep connection. It was as if, through that simple gesture, he was sharing a glimpse of the understanding he had gained. The scars on your skin tingled in response, your pink veins pulsing in time with the steady beat of Viktor's heart.

And maybe, you could allow yourself to hope that everything would be okay.

News of the miracle healer spread like wildfire through the Undercity. People began to appear at the entrance to the makeshift camp, more and more every day, pleading for a cure to their various ills and ailments. And Viktor provided, calm and patient as their desperation made them shiver and beg. 

The first man healed - Huck, you learned was his name - became a leader for the others, an assistant to coordinate and direct the newcomers. Viktor had a limit to how many he could help each day before it wore him out, but all were welcomed, and provided food and warmth, as they awaited their turn. 

The first few nights you’d barely slept, despite Viktor’s reassurances that none of the men outside would seek to harm either of you, you couldn’t ignore the movement that flitted past the edges of your vision, a threat you couldn’t quite see, couldn’t tell if it was real. He’d even cleaned off the old, dusty tents that littered the area, fussing them with a similar pattern to the enhancements that lay on Huck’s skin. They no longer smelled of mildew and decay, but rather of crisp, freshly fallen snow, or a glass table that had been freshly polished. And still, the shelter did nothing to soothe your worry. 

“What did you do to them?” you asked as you lay together in the tent, tucked into his chest to block out the sounds and sights that caused distress to riddle your mind. 

“I healed them,” he said so simply, like it wasn’t a feat beyond comprehension. His fingers traced the scab on your cheek, the sparks glowing softly around you, humming their content. 

You slotted your leg through his, even with his body being made of metal, he still felt soft and light to you. To you, he would always be the Viktor you fell in love with, irrespective of how he looked. 

“But how?” 

Viktor's fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm as he considered your question. You leaned back slightly, studying his pensive face in the soft glow of the sparks.

"It’s…difficult to explain," he began. "The Hexcore has given me a new understanding of the fundamental forces that shape our world. I can see the patterns of energy that flow through all living things, the intricate dance of molecules and atoms that make up our bodies."

He took your wrist gently in his hand, turning it over to expose the delicate network of veins beneath your skin. The pink lines pulsed softly as if to remind you that the Shimmer remained, just below the surface.

"When I touch someone," Viktor continued, "I can feel these patterns, these flows of energy. And more than that, I can…influence them. Reshape them. With Huck, I could sense the corruption of the Shimmer, how it had twisted and warped his natural energy patterns. I used the Hexcore's power to realign those patterns, to purge the Shimmer from his system and restore him to health.”

His thumb brushed over the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, and your lips parted around a silent gasp. “And yet, I cannot seem to figure out how to help you.” Though he tried valiantly to hide it, you did not miss the crestfallen look that passed across his face like a ghost. “The Shimmer it…has a hold of your magic, of your very essence, and I cannot see a way to remove it without destroying what remains of you.”

Removing your wrist from his hold, you brought your hand up to his cheek. He sighed at your touch, pressing into your palm. 

“I never expected you to solve this, nor do I need that from you,” you said in a low whisper. Viktor opened his mouth to counter, but you silenced him with a thumb pressed to his lips. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice to be back to how I was before…well, everything, but if even a goddess says it’s impossible, then maybe there isn’t anything anyone can do. Maybe this is just me now, like how this is you. All I need from you is to be with me, for you to let me love you. Can we just try that and see how it goes?” 

A smile curved at the sides of his mouth and he placed a kiss on the pad of your thumb. “Yes, lásko, we can.”

And you did, on the bad days and the good days, you were with him, you loved him, and though you spent most of your time away from the crowds that clamoured to Viktor, you could always feel his presence. Your magic was tied to him, intrinsically, instinctively, like he was the home you would always come back to. 

It calmed some base part of you, the part that had unravelled in the days you’d spent waiting for him to wake. The Shimmer coursed through you with a ferocity that burned more often than not, the hallucinations of your friends or invisible threats and terrifying creatures plagued you, but without fail, Viktor would appear at your side - if he was not there already - with a soft touch and gentle words to bring you back to reality. And every night you would curl up at his side, your hand on his chest feeling it move with each inhale and exhale, his breath flowing across the top of your head, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if you’d float away without his grounding touch. Explode in a fiery ball of panic was more like it, but you appreciated the sentiment all the same. 

Holing yourself up in the tent-turned-larger-shelter wasn’t healthy, or so Viktor insisted. When you were feeling up to it, you waded out into the growing camp. At first, you’d been concerned with their reactions to you, a mage infected with Shimmer, scarred and twitchy, but their easy acceptance and kind smiles were enough to make you misty-eyed. You worried, of course, what would happen should you lose yourself among them, if your magic acted up and you hurt someone, and you did your best to venture out when you were at your most lucid. 

It was in those short walks that you discovered, at last, a way to temper the insanity that beat at your skull like a base drum. Those who waited for healing, suffering and aching where they sat together, afraid and searching, watched as you passed by, whispering amongst themselves. 

You paused, looking over to their huddled forms, bundled in blankets, plates empty of the food that had been provided, that Viktor and the others in camp had grown from the desecrated land in only a few days. It was a miracle, or at least it seemed like one to you, but Viktor had been performing a lot of miracles as of late.

Your magic never could heal, much to your chagrin, and even with six Gemstones worth of power and Shimmer amping it up, you found yourself unable to heal even the smallest of scratches. You’d tried again and again on the one that marred your cheek, stubbornly refusing to allow Viktor to heal it himself. But only time had allowed it to scab and begin to seal, your attempts had led to nothing but frustration. While you hadn’t thought there was anything you could do for those who waited for healing, your magic acted of its own accord. 

It flowed from you unbidden, a cascade of azure light that spilled over the huddled figures like a rushing stream. The sparks, usually content to dance lazily around you, now leapt with newfound purpose. They bounced and skittered across laps and shoulders, alighting on gaunt faces and worn bodies.

At first, fear rippled through the crowd. Eyes widened, muscles tensed, and a collective intake of breath echoed through the makeshift camp. You froze, panic rising in your throat. The magic coursed through you, wild and untamed, and you had no idea how to stem its flow. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you braced for screams, for accusations, for the chaos that always seemed to follow in your wake.

But then, something shifted.

A woman with a burn scar across her face and down her neck, pulling tight across her skin blinked in surprise, her brow smoothing as the constant ache that had been her companion for so long began to ebb. An old man with gnarled, arthritic hands flexed his fingers, wonder dawning on his weathered face as the joints moved without their usual protest.

Murmurs of astonishment rippled through the group. "The pain," someone whispered, "it's…fading." Another voice chimed in, "I can breathe easier!" The fear in their eyes gave way to something else - hope, tinged with awe.

Your magic continued to pulse and swirl, the sparks multiplied, filling the air like a swarm of ethereal fireflies. They settled on wounds, sinking into bruised flesh and angry welts, leaving behind a coolness that soothed and comforted. You were not healing anything, the illnesses and injuries remained, but it was something.

A hesitant hand reached out, fingers stretching towards the nearest spark. As it landed on the outstretched palm, a soft gasp of delight left the owner's lips. Soon, others were following suit, no longer cowering but eagerly welcoming your gift.

The magic sang through your veins, more potent than ever before, yet somehow less chaotic. It had found a purpose, a way to channel its immense power that didn't involve destruction. For the first time since the Shimmer had invaded your system, you felt a sense of control, of harmony with the force that had so often threatened to tear you apart.

Movement caught your eye. An elderly woman, her frame hunched and frail, slowly rose to her feet. She was missing an arm, the empty sleeve of her tattered coat fluttering in the gentle breeze created by your magic. Her grey hair was stringy and haphazardly thrown into a loose bun, her face heavy from the burden of hardship, but her eyes…her eyes shone with a light that spoke of profound relief.

She shuffled towards you, her gait unsteady but determined. You wanted to step back, to retreat from this unexpected approach, but your feet refused to move. The old woman reached out with her remaining hand, gnarled fingers trembling slightly as they sought yours.

The moment she touched you, a jolt of energy passed between you. It wasn't unpleasant - rather, it felt like a circuit completing, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. The woman's grip tightened, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Before you could respond, another hand grasped yours. Then another. And another. Like a wave gaining momentum, people began to rise from their waiting spots. They approached you slowly, reverently, hands outstretched.

You found yourself at the center of a growing circle of humanity. Hands of all sizes and colours reached for you - calloused worker's hands, soft children's palms, fingers twisted by age or illness. Each touch sent a new ripple of energy through you, your magic responding to their gratitude and hope.

The circle tightened, and you felt the press of bodies around you. It wasn't claustrophobic, though. Instead, it felt like a living, breathing entity of its own, pulsing with shared relief and newfound connection.

Voices murmured around you, a chorus of "thank you" and "bless you" rising and falling like the tide. Some wept openly, their tears leaving clean tracks on dirt-smudged faces. Others smiled, their expressions of joy almost painful to behold after so much suffering.

Just wait until you see what Viktor can do, you wanted to tell them, but the words stuck in your throat. And had you not been aware of his presence at all times, Viktor’s hand on your shoulder would have startled you out of your skin. Instead, you leaned into him, almost unconsciously seeking the steadiness his touch provided. 

“Making friends?” His lips quirked into a slight smirk. 

You laughed nervously, still unsure if this was a good idea. “Something like that.”

And when he left with the next newcomer in line for healing, you remained, taking a seat amongst the group as they began to relax. And there you remained all day, and well into the evening, until the constant use of your magic had drained you of all energy and you slumped, exhausted and half asleep where you sat. 

Your magic flickered, and a hiss of pain jolted you back to wakefulness. “Sorry,” you said in a rush, shooting the man who clutched his head an apologetic smile. Rubbing your eyes, you slapped lightly at your cheeks. How were you supposed to leave when it would mean that these people would be left to suffer? You’d used your magic in your sleep before, why couldn’t you now? Then again, that had been for one person, not upwards of fifteen.

“My dear,” the elderly woman who’d first shaken your hand, Charlotte was her name, “go and rest, you’ll do no one any good wearing yourself out like this.” 

You sputtered your protest, but she would hear none of it. 

“You have given me the gift of a day without pain for the first time in well over a decade, and I don’t know how I will ever be able to properly thank you.” She flexed her hand, her knuckles knobby and brittle. “But I survived it before, and I will survive it again, as will we all.” She motioned to the others, a dwindling crowd as Viktor had healed many, though more would arrive tomorrow with the rising sun.

“I…” you pursed your lips, guilt gnawing at your throat. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, silly girl, we will be fine.” Her smile lines crinkled and she lowered her voice so only you could hear. “Besides, if I had a man like yours I wouldn’t be wasting my time with a bunch of strangers when I had him waiting in bed for me.” 

The blush that coloured your cheeks had you resisting the urge to fan yourself, instead, you ducked your head to avoid her knowing look.

“I’ll return tomorrow,” you managed, despite the embarrassment making your tongue feel thick and useless in your mouth. 

“I look forward to it, dear.” Charlotte patted your hand, winking once before releasing you to stumble away, towards the man who was definitely not waiting in bed for you, but still working, as was his habit. You waved as you passed him, sitting and speaking with a man - who judging by the look of awe in the wide cast of his eyes had only recently been healed of whatever ailed him - and covered your mouth as you yawned. 

The shelter consisted of an array of soft blankets laid out on the ground, and a small box of clothes off to the side. Viktor promised more was to come as time went on and more people arrived, offering their skills and services as thanks for Viktor’s healing touch, but it could have been a bed of nails beneath some rotted sticks and you would have still been happy as long as he was there with you. 

Flopping down on the bed of blankets, you groaned your relief. Your body throbbed, overworked as though you’d spent the entire day hauling around Jayce’s hammer. How was he doing? After Viktor’s visit and goodbye, as you’d understood it, how had he taken the loss? You’d been friends, of that you were certain, and you found yourself missing his bright spirit and easy laughter. Would you ever see him again? You weren’t sure he’d want to see you like this, what he’d make of it. And maybe you’d never find out. 

As your thoughts drifted, sleep overtaking your beleaguered mind, the rustling of tent canvas brought you back to semi-wakefulness. 

You grunted your greeting, flopping your arm in what was meant to be a motion for him to join you, but ended up more like a pathetic chicken wing impersonation. 

A low chuckle had your lips curving into a frown. You clucked your tongue to let him know exactly how you felt about that, but your eyes remained closed, lids too heavy to bother opening. 

“You should at least remove your shoes, můj miláčku,” he said with a sweetness that had your stomach squirming. His darling, yes that was you, wasn’t it? 

Grunting again, you kicked your feet halfheartedly, but your shoes remained firmly in place. “Ugh.” You were sure you’d never sounded more intelligent in your entire life. 

“Allow me,” he said, and you relaxed, immediately pliant beneath his slender hands. Grasping your ankle lightly, he tugged off your shoe, placing it to the side, before doing the same for the second. 

“You will be very upset when you wake up and find you’ve slept in your pants.” He was right, you hated the way they wrinkled and wound themselves around your legs, the waistband indenting your skin when pulled too tight. “Would you like me to remove them as well?” 

Yes, you very much would, though in entirely different circumstances that neither of you had addressed since…the incident with the Hexcore. How were you supposed to bring up his…smoothness down there without it being horrifically awkward? 

You nodded your assent anyway, appreciating the delicate care he provided you. You felt Viktor's fingers at your waistband, gently unfastening the button. The zipper's faint rasp seemed impossibly loud in the stillness of the tent. With utmost tenderness, he eased the fabric down over your hips, his touch clinical yet affectionate. You lifted your hips slightly to help, mumbling incoherently as the cool air kissed your newly exposed skin.

Viktor worked the pants down your legs, his movements slow and deliberate. The fabric caught briefly on your ankles before sliding free. You sighed in relief, finally comfortable enough to truly relax. A soft rustle of fabric, and then the warmth of a blanket settled over you, tucked snugly around your body.

The blankets shifted as Viktor lay down beside you. His arm draped across your waist, pulling you close. You nestled into his embrace, your back pressed against his chest. Within seconds you were out like a light, drifting off into an undisturbed sleep for the first time in weeks.

You awoke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the tent canvas, painting everything in a warm, hazy light. Viktor's arm was still draped over your waist, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

Slowly, carefully, you rolled over to face him. Viktor's eyes were already open, watching you with a rawness that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to the multicoloured swirling of his irises, but when you saw flecks of gold within them, you felt the unease in your chest settle.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

Before you could respond, Viktor leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, your body instantly awake and thrumming with electricity. His hand cupped your cheek, cool against your flushed skin.

You pulled back slightly, self-conscious and unsure like you hadn’t done this before. "Wait, I have morning breath," you protested weakly.

Viktor's lips quirked into a smirk. "I do not care," he replied, closing the distance between you once more.

His kiss was unhurried, exploratory. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his dishevelled hair. Viktor's hand skimmed down your side and hooked your leg over his hip, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss deepened, growing more heated. Viktor's teeth grazed your bottom lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. Your hands roamed across the planes of his chest, the solid feel of the metal. He rolled you onto your back, his weight pressing down, protected and safe beneath him.

Just as Viktor's hand began to slide under your shirt, a pointed throat-clearing sounded from outside the tent. You groaned your frustration, burying your face in Viktor's neck. "Goddamn it," you muttered against his skin. Could you call it skin if it was no longer made of flesh?

Viktor chuckled, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before reluctantly rolling off of you. "Yes?" he called out, his voice remarkably composed given the circumstances.

“Herald, sir, the newcomers have begun arriving this morning, and their numbers have already doubled from yesterday.” 

Numbness spread through your limbs, your blood rushing in your ears as it drained from your face, leaving you pale and shaky. You didn’t hear Viktor’s response, but as he moved to ready himself for the day, your hand on his arm stopped him in place. 

“Milá?” He sounded as though he was speaking underwater, your vision blurry as you tried to focus on him. “What’s wrong?” 

Your mouth was a dessert, your tongue made of lead. Herald, they called him Herald. You looked down at his body, all metal and magic mixed into one machine-like form. Was it a stretch, a coincidence that prickled at the edge of your consciousness like a needle? Perhaps. But you couldn’t shake the vice-like grip it had around your neck.

Viktor's brow furrowed as he studied your face, concern etching deep lines around his eyes. "Milá, breathe with me," he said, his voice low and steady. He took your hand and pressed it against his chest, the cool metal jarringly different from your clammy skin. "Feel my heartbeat. Focus on that."

You tried to match your breathing to the rise and fall of his chest, but your lungs were filled with shards of glass. The world tilted and spun around you, colours blurring into a nauseating pattern. You squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to Viktor.

"You’re safe," he murmured, his fingers brushing over your hair. "I’m here, I have you."

Gradually, the roaring in your ears subsided, replaced by the steady thrum of Viktor's heart beneath your palm. Your breathing slowed, syncing with his, and the grip around your neck began to loosen.

When you finally opened your eyes, Viktor's face swam into focus. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, and you knew he wouldn’t push you if you said no. But you wanted to tell him, needed to get it out, to warn him.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. "They called you Herald," you whispered.

Viktor's brow furrowed deeper. "Yes, some have taken to calling me that. Why does it trouble you?"

You took a shaky breath, trying to organize your scattered thoughts. "On Progress Day, when I had that vision, do you remember? I saw that…man in metal armour, face covered by a mask, the arm on his back getting ready to fire. A vision, I think. Of the future, maybe." You paused, biting your bottom lip. "It was called the Machine Herald. I know it's not a direct fit but…"

Understanding dawned in Viktor's eyes, followed quickly by a flash of hurt he tried and failed to suppress. "You think I will become that thing you saw in your vision?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," you stammered, frustration colouring your tone. "It's all so jumbled in my head. But hearing them call you that…it scared me."

Viktor was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant. When he spoke, his voice was soft but firm, unwavering. "Mila, look at me." He cupped your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle despite the metal. "I am still me. The Hexcore has changed my body, yes, but not my heart. Not my mind."

You leaned into his touch, wanting desperately to believe him. "But what if it's inevitable? What if this is just the beginning of something we can't control?"

Viktor's eyes softened, a hint of mischief dancing in their swirling depths. "I promise," he began, his tone mock-serious, "that if I ever feel the urge to don a metal suit of armour and attach an evil ray arm to my back, you will be the first to know."

You stared at him, incredulous. "Viktor, this isn't funny," you snapped, catching on the edge of hysteria.

The playful glint in his eyes faded, replaced by a depth of understanding that had you wiping at your eyes. "I know, lásko," he said softly. "I know."

Without another word, Viktor pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. Despite the changes to his body, he still smelled like Viktor - a mixture of pine, ink, and that new tinge of iron. His arms tightened around you, solid and secure.

Viktor's fingers traced soothing patterns along your spine, each touch a silent promise. I'm here. I'm still me. We're in this together.

The world outside the tent faded away - the murmur of voices, the clang of metal, the rustle of wind through makeshift structures. Your universe narrowed to the feeling of Viktor's arms around you, the rise and fall of his chest against yours. The future remained uncertain, but there was one thing you were sure of above all else; no matter what happened, no matter what he did or who he became, you would always love him. Nothing could ever change that.

A/N: They get a little bit of happiness, as a treat. Even though Viktor's future still remains uncertain.

Will he machine herald, or will he not?

[discoursecollector]

My First order of discourse discussion is:

Proship VS Antiship

—————————————————————

What is Proship?

Proshipping is a stance, not a ship archetype, that means you are Anti-Censorship when it comes to primarily Fanmade Fictional media. Proshippers are big fans of the DLDR and DEAD DOVE tags on fiction sites, They don’t care what others ship, even if that ship is problematic in nature. There are subcategories under Proship that are ship archetypes (Comships, Darkships ect)

What is Antiship?

Antiship is the antithesis to Proship as one may guess, These people believe that problematic ships in media shouldn’t be explored in a romanticized manner. Even in fanmade content. They do care what other ship, especially when they perceive a ship as problematic or “illegal”

Whats the issue?

The primary issue in this debate is that anti-shippers don’t know what proshipping is. A lot of anti-shippers believe that proship stands for “problematic shipping” or that All proshippers engage with Dark media, They also believe that engaging with such media is a gateway to real crimes committed.

This isnt true.

On the other hand, there ARE alot of proshippers who taint the community by using it as an excuse to commit real crimes, most notably Pedophilia.

My take?

I lean more Proship than Anti. Obviously i have boundaries regarding what content i like and dont. If you don’t like the content, don’t engage with it. block the tags, block the creators, if you use your free will, you don’t have to see it. Educate yourself on the real meaning and message of the community. If you still think it’s weird afterwards don’t interact with anybody from it. It’s a very simple solution to end this discourse, and from my perspective, it mostly lands on anti-shippers taking accountability for threatening lives.

no fictional ship can be illegal, it’s not illegal to make dark media, the topics discussed in the media can be illegal when applied to real life, but that doesn’t make the media itself bad, or even indulgent on the ideas. to add- don’t report dark fictional media to authorities, it wastes their time and resources looking into real cases of CSEM/CSAM material. If you see anyone asking for- or holding that content, report immediately.

also a note for some proshippers- specifically the icky girl/daughter and l0l11c0n side of that community, stop posting pics of urselves, youre minors and ik you think your self objectification is hot or sexy or whatever but this is dangerous and damaging behavior. you are not fictional, you are a real person who deserves to be safe, pls keep urself safe from abuse.

Even the most problematic ship is fictional, these people are not. If you have substantial evidence that this person is committing an act of pedophilia, go right ahead I don’t care. I hate pedophiles as much as the next. But you need to learn what proshipping is and you need to learn what pedophilia is, so you can adequately understand what’s actually going on instead of making assumptions. you don’t have to agree, just be mindful.

Im Open to Discussion, If i missed any points or you need clarification on certain things, go ahead and ask me.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

Why do you dislike 3zun? ( I'm always interesting about your mdzs thoughts , specifically that one that includes jin Guangyao( and his ships that's why I asking)

i've come back to this ask off and on for months now, so i'm sorry i've been leaving you in limbo about it! to be clear, when i'm talking about disliking an interpretation of the 3zun dynamic that involves a romance between all three participants, i'm talking about the throuple interpretation, but also n!elan and n!eyao. (not that i think that needed much clarification lol. i suspect anyone who has been following my blog for longer than 5 minutes knows i'm ride or die for xiyao.)

i'll put this under a cut because i don't want to make my romantic 3zun enjoyer mutuals sad 🥲 my response really isn't going to be very long, or surprising, but in short:

there's just no canon support for it.

i know this is not what everyone needs for their ships to be enjoyable, but it's necessary for me. "but ray, don't you ship chengyao and suyao? those ships aren't canon." you're right, but a romantic interpretation of those relationships also isn't the prevailing opinion on those character dynamics, either. most of the time when i encounter jgy interacting with jc or sms in fic (again, most of the time), their interactions with each other in the story don't strain credulity. this is unfortunately not the case when it comes to romantic 3zun, where 1) fanon 'nice mingjue' da-ge is the prevailing interpretation of nmj, 2) cold, calculating, murder kitten a-yao is the prevailing interpretation of jgy, and 3) lxc is equally emotionally invested in his relationships with both of them, when this is just demonstrably not the case in either the book or the show.

i do want to be very clear that i'm not saying this to shit on nmj or people who enjoy n!elan, as long as they're not being cunty at me, but the way n!elan is written about in discourse, meta, and fic is a blatant lift-and-shift of the canon xiyao dynamic onto this fanon interpretation of the relationship between lxc and nmj. years of enduring, supportive friendship where both parties are consistently seeking each other out? that's xiyao. i'm not saying that nmj and lxc were not good friends and that their relationship wasn't important, but when lxc is presented with a choice between nmj or jgy, he consistently, each time, chooses jgy: to empathize with him, and to protect him, and to spend time in his company. he isn't going to qinghe for months at a time to be with da-ge. he goes to jinlintai, to be with jgy.

i also don't see the relationship between jgy and nmj as being an emotionally intimate one. i don't think they're friends, let alone lovers, and i don't think that's something either of them are interested in at any point in their history. prior to his legitimization (and after, but especially before), meng yao would never have put himself in a position where even the hint of impropriety could be entertained about his relationship with his superior. and while i do agree with what others have written about nmj's hypocrisy and inability to read the goddamn room, i also don't think he would ever entertain the notion of taking advantage of one of his subordinates that way. i am hardly nmj's biggest fan, but i wouldn't ever characterize him as a man who would knowingly put his own desires ahead of his principles. if he did desire meng yao sexually--and again, i don't think he did--he would never act on it. and then of course after the scorching sun palace and jgy's legitimization, jgy is transparently afraid of being alone with nmj, and nmj's only thoughts about jgy involve wanting to kill him. the only way i can ship n!eyao is if it is written as a one-sided, unreciprocated, psychosexual obsession on nmj's part, but understandably that is not the vibe most people who do enjoy this ship go for.

anyway, those are my thoughts. i very much hope my romantic 3zun friends don't friendship-break up with me now, lol.

[sacred-coffin]

Let's talk a little bit about survey bias and other ways surveys & statistics can misrepresent info.

So far I've had a fantastic turn out for my Ghost fandom demographic survey, which has me really hopeful! I'd still really like to see if we can exceed my goal of 200 responses. On that note, it would mean a lot to me if people continued reblogging my survey post, or even making their own posts to share the survey link!

https://forms.gle/8Kv8kq1sHucifEd86

However, no survey is perfect! So let's go ahead and address some issues this survey may have that might muddy the results.

Survey sample size!

First of all, there's likely a good amount of bias simply due to the fact that I am running this survey. I will not pretend that there aren't people who don't like me in the Tumblr fandom space, and I'm certainly blocked by a few people. Likewise, I have a few people blocked myself. It happens! But this also means that there are possibly sections of the fandom that either do not have access to the survey, or may just refuse to participate. I can't force anyone to participate, and the best I can do to help this survey spread beyond my bias is to ask people to keep sharing! I've already seen a lot of new faces in my notes :)

Next, it's important to have a sample size that's actually able to significantly represent the overall population. The biggest problem here is that I don't really know how big the Ghost fandom is on Tumblr! This makes it hard to calculate what an appropriate sample size is. The reason my goal is 200 is because that's approximately the amount of responses I got on my survey for naming the new ghoulette (which you can check out the results here!), so I at least know I can probably get that many responses. I'm no statistician, but if we were to say that there were about 2,000-3,000 people who consider themselves part of the Ghost fandom on Tumblr, then we probably want around 200-300 responses... I think. As I type this out, we have 121 responses.

Problems with data

There will always be one issue or another with the data collected. For one, I've already had a few people tell me that the instructions are unclear or confusing. I may have gotten a bit specific in my instructions in the hopes that it would make clean up easier, but that can make things confusing too. Being confused can lead to unreliable answers, or people just deciding to abandon the survey all together. I don't think I can really go back and change the questions, because it does seem like a majority of people have been able to understand the instructions, so what I will say is this: if you're confused, just answer to the best of your ability! You can even reach out to me and ask for clarification, I don't mind :) I've already helped quite a few people through the survey.

Related to that, I will also be doing "data clean-up," so if there are any responses that "didn't follow the instructions," I will fix them up to fit what I need (ex. fixing capitalization, spelling, or otherwise making responses "uniform") This of course leaves more room for human error, and I might make decisions that may not be considered ideal. To work around this, I have been consulting others while I start working & planning data clean-up, and I will also be sharing the entire spreadsheet at the end of the survey for full transparency. This will include the original responses as well as my clean up changes (on separate pages, of course).

This is all I can think of right now, but I'm happy to answer any other questions if anyone has them!

[slaymitchabernathy]

Coriolanus SFW Alphabet

| i received a lovely ask for this & am using just a random template i found off google lol |

A (Affection): Coriolanus is very affectionate, but only behind closed doors. He has an image to uphold (cold, mean, basically an asshole) so he can’t afford for anyone to see him pining over his one true love. That being said, when they’re alone, he’s a big teddy bear. When it comes to ‘love languages,��� he is physical touch all the way, he always needs to be touching. Holding hands, hugging, cuddling. That man craves touch. He also loves words of affection, mostly receiving them rather than giving them.

B (Bestfriend): Coriolanus would be a very interesting best friend lmfao. I feel like one day he’d be your best friend and the next he’d be like: “I’m mad at you, don’t ask me why.” Very wishy-washy. He definitely values his friendships more as he gets older, learning to depend on them for help.

He’s very loyal and takes loyalty very seriously. If he were to see his friend talking to someone he doesn’t like, he would take it very personally. Also, not friends with a lot of women, especially if he already has a girlfriend. If he were friends with a woman, he'd be very critical of her physical appearance, even if he never said it out loud.

C (Cuddles): This man likes to cuddle. He always takes on the role of being the big spoon for obvious reasons, but he wouldn't mind being the little spoon every now and then. He also loves having his girlfriend on top of him, basically suffocating him with his arms wrapped around her. Coriolanus likes to cuddle with the least amount of clothing possible, not even in a sexual way, more of a "I want to feel your skin on my skin" way.

D (Domestic): Coriolanus has a very clear plan for his future. He wants to get married and have children to carry on his legacy. He plans on being very traditional; he wants a housewife who will stay at home and raise the children. He's not above making his coffee, but he believes that cooking and cleaning are for the women. He isn't against hiring maids and cooks, but he won't be lifting a finger when he comes home from work. I imagine that he'd instill these beliefs in his children as well.

E (Ending): If Coriolanus had to break up with his partner, it would be in person. He'd be quick and to the point, seeing no reason to drag it out any longer than he has to. It would most likely be due to his busy schedule or work. He wouldn't really take on any of the blame for the relationship's failure; he'd more likely give out a few excuses. He's also returning all the gifts he's gotten over the years, that man doesn't want a single memory of his last relationship in his house. He's also not offering to stay friends after the breakup. Stay the hell away from that man.

F (Fiancé): Coriolanus wants to get married as soon as possible. This doesn't mean that he's going to rush into a relationship with someone, but he wants his girlfriend to be on the same page. He's very into courting, or anything to make their relationship seem more "official". He'd date for a few years before proposing, he's always thinking two steps ahead. He'd pick out a good ring, and the proposal would be tasteful as well as the wedding.

G (Gentle): When it comes to how gentle Coriolanus is physically, it depends. In the bedroom, he gets rough (please reference my NSFW post for more clarification hehe). But in a non-sexual setting, he is very gentle and aware of his large size. He often worries about underestimating his strength when touching his girlfriend and will most likely voice his concerns. Something along the lines of, "I don't know my own strength sometimes, darling. I don't ever want to hurt you." That being said, Coriolanus would never hit a woman.

Emotionally, he's a bit rougher. Coriolanus is very on guard, he doesn't trust a lot of people, so it'll take some time for him to let his walls down. He has moments of vulnerability, as well as moments of lashing out when he gets scared. He's very emotionally intelligent and can read other people's emotions easily. But in the end, he's guarded, which often comes off as being harsh and cold. Trust is everything to him.

H (Hugs): Hell no. He tolerates hugs. Coriolanus rarely engages in hugging, he much rather prefers kissing or hand holding. Mostly because his father was never that affectionate with him. If he does give a hug, it's stiff and awkward as hell. There are those rare moments when he's exhausted and just melts into his girlfriend's arms, letting out that deep, tired groan.

I (I love you): Coriolanus is slow to say those three words. His girlfriend most definitely says it first, and he's just like, "Oh. I'm happy to hear that, darling." As we have established, he is the king of trust issues, and loving someone is something he doesn't see himself being capable of. That being said, when he does say those words, he becomes different, more protective, more gentle, and caring. It would most likely take him around a year into the relationship to say it.

J (Jealousy): Oh, that man gets jealous. It can be over the stupidest thing too, like the waiter asks his girlfriend is she wants more water and he's pissed. He's the silent type, so he's just going to quietly fume in his corner until he can let off his steam (in the bedroom, *cough cough*) and then talk to her about it.

He can get very jealous, and if he gets worked up enough, he'll resort to the silent treatment. Not out of meanness, but because he knows how bitchy he can get and doesn't want to take it out on her. Coriolanus Snow is a possessive man, and he does not appreciate other men looking in his girlfriend's general direction. He needs constant reassurance that she's his.

K (Kisses): Yes! He is a kisser! His kisses can be sweet and short or deep and passionate. It all depends on the time and place. Out in public, he loves to kiss her cheeks, her temples, the back of her hands, the top of her head, the tip of her nose. He loves to kiss her.

When it comes to being kissed, he likes being kissed on the jaw, the lips, and his fingertips. He's got big ass hands but is somewhat fasincated by her gently kissing his fingertips.

In the bedroom, he likes to kiss up and down her stomach, her jaw, and...other areas. Coriolanus is a very good kisser, he doesn't mind a little tongue, but always has to be in control.

L (Little Ones): Coriolanus absolutely wants children. He wants a son to carry on the Snow name, but also wouldn't mind girls. He'd be very protective of his girls. He'd be a good father, devoted, caring, a leader for his family. He would want children soon after getting married.

M (Mornings): He likes to spend his mornings nice and slow. If he's not waking up for work, then he's sleeping in. He enjoys slow kisses in the morning along with cuddling. Breakfast in bed, a long bath, maybe even a massage. He's quiet in the mornings, but his morning voice is so fucking attractive. He's got sleepy eyes and grumbles a lot. Don't talk to him until he's had his morning coffee.

N (Nights): He likes to spend his nights winding down. He enjoys a glass of wine accompanied by the love of his life, reading next to him. Coriolanus values quiet over everything at night, so he doesn't like a lot of racket. Sometimes he'll spend the night between his lover's legs, and other nights he'll settle for gentle kisses before going to sleep.

O (Open): As I have said before, that man is guarded as fuck. He's not gonna open up for a long time, so his girlfriend better be very patient. He's not going to open up until he realizes that she's not a threat to him or his legacy. He reveals things about himself very slowly, almost out of the blue and unprovoked. I feel like he'd let a few things slip after spending a night in bed with his lover when he's in a different headspace. His significant other brings out a protective side of him, but also makes him feel young and innocent again. He often thinks of his mother when he's with her, comparing their beauty and acts of kindness towards others.

P (Patience): Coriolanus actually has a lot of patience. When it comes to his girlfriend, he's extremely patient, and it takes a lot to get on his last nerve. At work, he's different and quick to anger. If he's cranky or hungry, then his patience will thin a lot quicker. He just closes his eyes a lot of the time and takes some deep breaths so he doesn’t punch someone in the throat.

Q (Quizzes): Coriolanus remembers everything. He's going to commit everything his girlfriend says to memory and hold onto it until he dies. He's noting her favorite color, food, and flower. He's pretty attentive to her needs and preferences.

R (Remember): His favorite moment in their relationship would most definitely be a moment when all of his plans went wrong. He made the dinner reservations for the wrong date, the movie got canceled, it started raining. He is such a planner, so to have everything be ruined would gut him, but then she'd show him how to make the most of it. While it wouldn't be "perfect", they'd still enjoy themselves, and he'd realize that she doesn't expect him to be this perfect boyfriend. He's already perfect in her eyes.

S (Security): Coriolanus is so protective of his girlfriend. He constantly worries about her safety and well-being. If she's sick, he is sick with worry. He would take a bullet for her, no questions asked. He never lets her walk near the street on the sidewalk and doesn't like it when she's out late at night alone. He'd kill for her. That being said, whenever she gets protective over him, he finds it adorable. He's also always going to speak up and advocate for her. "She said no pickles!"

T (Try): Coriolanus is putting in effort for their dates. When it comes to his physical appearance, he is always showered, shaved, and doused in cologne. When it comes to planning, he can be meticulous and will even tell her the dress code. For everyday things, he likes a schedule, he likes to know what's happening in her life and in his life. He enjoys giving her little gifts just to see how excited she gets, so those are pretty spontaneous. For anniversaries, he spends a good two months planning out the day. She's getting roses, candies, kisses, dinner, lingerie. The whole nine yards.

U (Ugly): Coriolanus doesn't have a lot of ugly habits. He tends to be controlling, but that's nothing new. He always has to shower first, like don't go to the beach with that man because he will be the first one in the shower. He cleans up after himself, keeps things organized. If anything, he might prioritize work over his relationship, which can lead to some strain.

V (Vanity): That man is a diva. He loves his curls, spending a good ten minutes styling them every morning. He keeps a clean-shaven face and shaves every few days to maintain the hairless image. He picks out his clothes the night before and is a menace with the ironing board. He cares very much about how he is perceived publicly due to his upbringing. He expects his significant other to do the same as well.

W (Whole): Coriolanus most definitely feels incomplete without his girlfriend. Even when he's at work, he's thinking about her. He likes to spend as much time with her as possible and will literally pout if she has to go somewhere without him.

X (Xtra): An extra little thing about Coriolanus is that he does not like animals, yet he will tolerate his girlfriend's cat. He also doesn't like anything too spicy and, while he'd never admit it, is scared of spiders. Do not ask him to come kill a little spider because he will freak out.

Y (Yuck): Coriolanus has a few things he doesn't like in a partner. He doesn't like people who are late or who have no social awareness. He knows how he is perceived in public and can't afford to be seen with someone who will taint his perfect image. He also doesn't like women who have too much body hair, he wants his girlfriend to be as hairless as possible.

Z (Zzz): That man is a heavy sleeper. He snores if he's really tired and has no problem taking up the entire bed. Once his girlfriend moved in with him, she brought her humidifier, space heater, and white noise machine along with her. He rolled his eyes at all of it at first, but now, he can't sleep without it. Coriolanus sleeps in his boxers and always falls asleep with his girlfriend wrapped up in his arms.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

{Coriolanus NSFW Alphabet}

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust @snowsgames @wakdjenwowj |

[loganwritesprobably]

Right Person

Tags/Warnings: Dalton/GN!Reader, first date, childhood friends to lovers

Word Count: 634

Freshly fallen snow was nothing less than stunning, the way it coated the ground in a plush blanket, glistening like polished pearls in the slowly rising early morning sun, a pretty iridescent glow drawing you to touch it. You carved a small smiley face in the snow, then stepped ahead, making your way to the store. You did need food to survive after all. You’d lived on Drum all your life, having seen Wapol rise to power, abandon Drum, return, and be replaced by Dalton. 

Dalton.

The man was nothing short of stunning, as if carved from marbled stone by only the greatest of artists along the grand line. For years you’d admired him from afar, being his same age, you’d grown up together and been in each other’s lives to a small extent for as long as you could remember. Just before Wapol returned, you’d been ready to confess your feelings for him and ask if he was interested in going on a date, and then he took over as the ruler of the island, your home now known as the Sakura Kingdom. He was just so busy, never seeming to be done with his duties, or tending to the townspeople, you’d hate to take away from that or distract him, after all his work was deeply important to him after the way Wapol had treated the people. 

As you walked, you passed people that you’d known all your life, smiling and waving, exchanging pleasantries as you always did. That was what it was like to live in such a small community, one that had experienced so much loss together. When the bell rang to announce you’d entered the grocery store, you waved at the owner, and then his wife as she stocked shelves, and high fived a young boy as he scrambled past you to buy himself a sweet treat. You could be happy here forever, you thought, even if you didn’t get Dalton. After all these years, he was still the one you wanted, and nobody else had even come close - so maybe you wouldn’t date him, but you were sure you wouldn’t date anyone other than him either. That was your fate, but there was certainly worse.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost collided someone as you meandered down the aisles of the store. You stumbled and looked up, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but there was the very man that had been on your mind. Dalton laughed softly and adjusted the food in his arms.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologised, and you couldn’t help laughing along with him.

“Me neither. Sorry.” You replied, grabbing the bread you’d been looking for from the shelf beside you.  If you just continued with what you were doing, you wouldn’t end up stuck staring dumbly at Dalton.

“Hey uh, it’s been a while. Have you uh- have you found yourself a spouse yet?” He asked softly, hesitantly. Like he was nervous to learn the answer.

“No, I haven’t.” You replied, keeping it short and succinct. You didn’t need to be judged or questioned on why or why not, or if you had your eye on someone.

“Are you not the marrying type?” Dalton asked instead, and you shrugged with a smile.

“Only for the right person.” Only for the very man who’d asked the question, not that you could let yourself say that.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what makes someone the right person, but I’d like to try, if you’d let me?” He asked, while you stared at him, blown away by his words.

“Huh?” You asked dumbly, though moreso out of shock than needing clarification.

“Can I take you on a date?”

“Yes.” You said, probably far too quickly.

“Great.”

Tags: @cainnoable @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @frillsinadress @categoryace

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

[lokiina]

I wasn't gonna do it. But I'm gonna do it.

I'm gonna kjhdkfjghdkfjg

If you don't want character spoilers I'm slapping this under a readmore but I need to cry a lil about Gale.

So many people just think he's annoying or Solas 2.0 and that's kdghdfkjgh

if it's not coherent I apologize I need to word vomit.

!! also some mental health related TWs ahead as a warning !!

THIS MAN IS SO DEEPLY DEPRESSED. His self worth is so low and it's so heart wrenching to listen to and the writing is incredible.

(A lot of the characters in this game deal directly with like Gods and the abusive relationships they have with them but this is for Gale specifically. Everyone's got their own mess that's it's own thing. )

Holy fucking shit. I don't know if you get some of the dialog options I have gotten if you don't actively romance him but omfg. Man openly admitted to being suicidal so you talking him out of blowing himself up while everyone else including the last love his life is saying "kill yourself" is such a big big deal. Even if the end result is being framed as help. It's not. It's more manipulation and down right fucking EVIL.

His relationship with Mystra is messed up, the power imbalance is fuckin wild and if anyone out of this is expecting a goddess to be the victim when she was clearly a manipulator is unreal. Their situation he was just trying desperately to prove his worth to her and her essentially stringing him along until he wasn't of any use anymore. He wanted Mystra to see him as equal to her, and nothing he ever did was enough for her. Cuz she did not care about him. If it was a proper relationship and she actually loved him back he wouldn't have had to try to continuously prove himself.

He was taken advantage of through his relationship and his entire self worth has been shattered. Now he's not entirely without fault through some of it and acknowledges where he screwed up himself.

When you offer to find another way for him that doesn't end up in him exploding, you kick a lil spark back into him and as someone who's fuckin struggled with self worth and depression. I feel for him so hard. Sometimes it does take another person simply acknowledging your worth to be that lil spark. It doesn't even have to be in a romantic sense.

This man is high key autistic coded. Everything about the way he loves so purely, misses cues on certain things and misunderstands and needs direct clarification on stuff. Ask him about his special interest, magic. The gloom drops in these moments. It's fuckin precious as hell to see him light up.

The writing in this game is fucking phenomenal and I just. I have a lot of deep feels on this whole thing. Every character has so many lil layers to them and I wanna just smooch the whole dev team.

Anyway. He's my fav character out of this chaotic game and I just. I will protect this silly wizard with my life. He deserves good things. Fuck his haters.

I wanna go get some comfy fluffy art of him and my boy.

[autisticlifelessons]

Tips for Autistic Students

I managed to get really good grades both at school and university, but it involved a LOT of emotional anguish. I had this reputation of being really smart and nerdy, but the truth was I had to put in an almost inhumane amount of effort in order to sustain my grades. I lost perspective and sacrificed other aspects of my life - such as building friendships and having experiences - that I'm still catching up with, now.

If I had to do it all again, knowing I'm autistic, there are definitely some things I would change that would have made my life as a student so much more enjoyable. Read on to learn from my mistakes!

Spend time going over the things you aren't so sure on - I wasted a lot of time reading over and over stuff that I could recite off by heart, but to be honest I don't think it made one iota of difference to my grades. I tended to avoid the scary stuff I was struggling with, but with hindsight this would have been a much more productive use of my time. Identify the areas you know you are weaker in, and focus on plugging those gaps in your knowledge rather than aimlessly wading through course materials.

Look after yourself - it's all too easy when you're looking to get good grades to totally overwork yourself. But this can actually be counterproductive as when you are tired/stressed you are actually more likely to make mistakes and underperform. Try making a studying timetable for yourself, and make sure it has a cut off point so you know when to stop. Trust me - grades are not worth burning yourself out over.

Give yourself plenty of time to complete assignments/study for tests and exams - it's very common to hear other people on your course bragging about how the started a essay 2 hours before the deadline and still got an A, but don't listen to them. More than likely they're lying or at least exaggerating, but they are also NOT you. You don't need to compare yourself to anyone else. For most autistic people - even those with executive function issues who are prone to procrastination - having to do things last minute can lead to overwhelm and burnout. A neurotypical person may be able to handle this approach, but for neurodivergent people this strategy could lead to a fallout period where you would need to recover. Starting ahead of time will allow you to pace yourself and ensure you have the chance to ask for help or clarification if necessary.

Try and make a few friends in every class - socialising often doesn't come easy to autistic people, but I promise going to class is much more bearable if you have a least one friendly face to look forward to seeing. Statistically speaking there is a really good chance there is someone else who is neurodivergent, and you likely can relate to each other's experiences more than a neurotypical person's. It also gives you people to arrange to hang out with outside of class, which is how friendships are built and sustained. Just a simple 'good morning' or complimenting someone on their clothes is enough to begin building a rapport.

Pay attention to your sensory needs - it's much easier to concentrate and take in information if you are comfortable. If the sun is in your eyes or if your desk is wobbly, ask if you can switch seats. If having a stim toy in your hand helps you concentrate, do what you need to do to get permisson to use one. Advocating for yourself can be scary, but it makes such a difference to your experience.

Did you find my tips helpful? Let me know!

[wolvsaalt]

Hello people! It's Dynamite here, I'm posting to provide clarification and more in depth explanation on what happened.

First off, I must sincerely thank the post owner for not bring other people's names in. My friends had nothing to do with what happened, and I'm glad to see they haven't been dragged into this.

Second off, I would like to apologize for taking so long to clarify things. The original post happened when I just got to school, so I haven't been able to respond until I got home.

A break down on everything:

The conversation started up because I asked what fanfics and recs were. I got my answer and I wanted to move on from the topic, but hatter posts a comment I barely skimmed through. I barely remember exactly what led to the argument, but I must state that Bucket never said its okay to post about sexual things, but that if people messaged them I'd be their delicision to do so, and that Hatter would most likely get in trouble for saying that.

They start arguing and I tell them to move on from the subject, which we do. I'm not at all surprised that mods came in and deleted the posts and gave us a lecture.

I don't appreciate people saying that I had a mental breakdown and went on a rant about how much I hated the rules. I did NOT have a mental breakdown, nor did I rant about hating the rules.i simply stated that I was frustrated with continuously getting in trouble, despite constantly rereading the rules and trying to abide by them.

That was only part of the reason why I decided to move the group chat somewhere more private. I know people were stalking the forum (mainly to watch Hatter), and I felt uncomfortable knowing that

And how are we being disgusting? I can provide screenshots of our group messages, where we're sharing the pups we've had, saying hi as new people join in, and some people offering some cheap wolves up for us. I'm confused on how that's considered being disgusting?

Yes, while I would've liked to include everyone, some people can't access Discord. Which led to everything blowing up at once, with Cool Guy saying we shouldn't run and that the rules are easy to follow. Cool Guy goes on to telling me that I should use a different app, including giving out my Gmail (my PERSONAL contact info), and some apps I've never heard of.

And while I'm deeply sorry some people have been cut off, it was a needed move to take things off a public place.

Crya was blocked for calling a friend a bitch because I sold a wolf she wanted to someone else. I unblocked her after a few days and invited her back, choosing to ignore the fact that after that everything she did seemed to grate on my nerves.

A few days back, Crya promised she could get me something. So I sent her the money, and she sent it back saying she didn't have it. Myself and another friend provided proof that she did indeed say she had it, and instead of owning up and taking it. She decides to post in Greek, saying she hated us and had no reason to prove her wrong.

I took her to private messages and ended up blocking her for good. Her sister, Heather, messages me, saying that me blocking her was making her depression worse and she was going to commit suicide because of me. So I blocked her as well.

Everything after that seems normal, until the fight and being moved to discord. I told everyone that if they messaged me their username on Discord, I'll invite them to the chat. Vix starts going on about Crya, and says she did nothing wrong. How crya has on her profile, stating that she has a temper and if she gets back then she's sorry. Vix proceeds to keep talking about crya, saying I should give her a chance to apologize, and that she doesn't care and I could go ahead and block her. So I proceeded to block Vix as well.

Now, I feel the need to say that I never asked anyone to spy on me. I was ready to leave those people in the past and forget about it. But I get messaged that Crya openly admitted on a public forum that Vix was a 2nd account created by Heather to spy on us. I unblocked them to see this forum, took screenshots of the post and them threatening my friend if they told me about it. And proceeded to report it to mods before reblocking them.

I have just been informed by one of my friends, that Crya, Vix, and Heather have all been banned from WD. Showing proof that I wasn't in the wrong, and neither were my friends.

I must also say, I know Cool Guy will see this. Know that I've received proof that you've been disgustingly sexual across several different websites. So how can you accuse my friend of saying something sexual on the forum (which they no way did), when you've done much worse?

- Dyna

.

[cardierreh15]

“Jump!”

**I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work!!!

Warning 18+: Mentions Of Sex but , Clark being the man we always wanted . ✨ amazing ✨

Pairing: Clark/Kal-El x Lois Lane (Black!Plus Size female)

Description: Clark doesn’t exactly know how to explain to Lois that he is Kal-El, Superman.

Word Count: 2.0K

Song: Magic by Coldplay

One Shot

‘Clark, this has to be the dumbest idea you’ve ever come up with!’ Lois squeaked through her teeth as he managed to push her forward. She was on her heels, backing her weight against him but somehow, he was not budging. He just kept on pushing.

Clark chuckled as they finally came to a stop at what had seemed to be the edge of the world. ‘Trust me… I’ve thought of dumber things.”

Lois was still far enough to see the cliff but not what was beneath it. Her knees were practically buckling and her teeth were damn near chattering. ‘N-no! I’m convinced, this is the dumbest!’

He’d walked ahead of her and placed his hand on his hip before turning around to face her, ‘Y-know, for you to have been pushed off of the globe of the Daily Planet, you’d think you’d grasp the idea of heights.’

Offended, Lois raised a brow and popped out her hip, ‘Excuse me?!’ Her face began to grow hot with irritation. That had to be the most insensitive thing he had ever said. Leave it to a man to say something stupid.

‘Before you get mad… Let me finish.’ He sighed for a moment, ‘The only way one has truly ever fallen from something high like this is because they were either pushed, or they jumped.’ He then turned to walk towards the edge of the cliff.

‘CLARK! BE CAREFUL!’ She yelped.

He turned halfway and lended his hand out towards her.

Lois stared at her boyfriend for a moment. His deep blue eyes were so gentle, and so sure. They offered her a place she had only felt with him: safety. She knew that whenever he was around, she would be safe. It was a strange feeling… but it was blissful and comfortable too.

So, Lois sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. But if I fall off this cliff Clark, I will haunt you for the rest of your life!’ She said as she walked over and placed her hand in his.

‘Haha, sure— sure. Look,— look at this view.’

Ahead, was the melancholy vastness of the ocean. The sun shone brightly down on the crystal blue waters. Waves sparkling and shimmering as if it was a sea of jewels. A few tiny yachts and sailboats floated on the horizon; only adding to the breathtaking sight.

‘Wow— Clark… this is…’ she scoffed as she just held his hand a little tighter than before. She just needed clarification if he was real or not. All of it just felt like a dream. Her being on a much deserved vacation with the love of her life. Life felt too good right now. But somehow, it was going to get a lot better.

Clark stared down at her with a gentle smile cracked on his face, ‘I know.’ He then wrapped his heavy arms around her waist, giving her a soft squeeze before kissing her cheek. Then, he rested his chin on her shoulder gently, loving the sound of her now calmed down heart beat. A rhythm that had put him to sleep on multiple occasions.

Placing a kiss on her shoulder and savoring the moment, he let out a gentle sigh, ‘Lois, I have to tell you something.’

Lois then looked over her shoulder at him with concern, ‘What is it, Clark? Is everything alright?’ She then turned around to face him, her small manicured hands on his sturdy chest.

He grabbed her small hands in both of his large palms, ‘Yes— … sort of. I—‘ he looked off to the side and then took a deep breath.

You have to tell her, Clark. She’s important to you. You plan on asking her to be your wife one day. She must know.

Letting out another huff that seemed to come from his soul, he closed his eyes as he asked, ‘Do you trust me?’

She raised a brow in confusion, a skeptical half smirk curled on her lips, ‘Uh… we’ve been dating for 6 months. I would like to hope so.’

The couple let out a short litter of laughter before Clark pressed his lips together.

‘Then there’s something I have to tell you… well, showing is better than telling.’ He then grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. ‘Just… give me a few minutes. I left something down in the rental. Wait for me?’

Now she was curious. What could be so important that he just couldn’t share with her now? Or, why did he leave it in the car? Was it on purpose? Oh my god! Is it a ring?! Shit! Was he going to ask her to marry him?!

Her mind raced with these ideas! All of these what ifs! Her heart began to pick up pace again. ‘Well—‘ she swallowed her spit, ‘O-of course, Clark! I mean— I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’ She giggled nervously, her cheeks burning with excitement and her ever growing smile unwavering.

Clark chuckled and gave her a gentle nod. He could hear her heart begin to pick up its pace again, but he just kept it cool. She was as nervous as he was. That was evident in the way she smiled.

‘Alright then. Just hold tight. I’ll be right back!’ He then placed another kiss on her cheek and jogged his way back towards the marble staircase that led them here.

She spent what had felt like an hour up on that cliff. She picked out a pretty pink flower and stuffed it in her big poofy ponytail. Then, she took some selfies and made sure she looked good for the special occasion. Adding on a little bit of gloss on her full lips.

Then, she heard her name being called.

‘LOIS! LOIS!’

Closing her mini makeup mirror, her eyebrows tugged into one. ‘What the hell? CLARK?!’ She then shoved it in her purse and walked back towards the edge of the cliff.

Catching herself, a few small rocks fell off of the edge. Damn, that was such a far fall. Letting out a shudder of a deep breath, she felt like she could only hear her own heart hammering in her ears.

Him calling out to her didn’t bring her out of her own head until she saw a familiar bright red cape.

‘LOIS! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!’

‘I’M FINE, CLARK IT’S JUST—‘ then it occurred to her. ‘CLARK WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE!?’

He was standing at the large rocks down below where the waves crashed and eroded the cliff.

‘SEE I KNEW YOU’D ASK THAT! LISTEN, I’VE BEEN THINKING A LOT LATELY! AND I'M READY TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH ABOUT WHO I AM!’

Lois made a face, getting down on her hands and knees to lean a little further over the ledge to see and hear him better.

‘CLARK?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU WEARING?!’ He was just so far down below, her eyes couldn’t make him out. Only the bright red cape that blew in the wind.

‘LOIS! DO YOU TRUST ME?!’

The same question from earlier, she sighed out before slapping her forehead, ‘YES! CLARK! I TRUST YOU! BUT YOU’RE NOT EXPLAINING TO ME HOW AND WHY YOU ARE DOWN THERE AND NOT HERE!’

‘I WILL IN A MINUTE! THIS IS GOING TO SOUND COMPLETELY ABSURD! BUT I NEED A FAVOR FROM YOU!’

Her eyebrows tugged into one. Now she was more worried than she was curious. Whatever plan Clark had rolled up his sleeve, she was not feeling it. But she’d allow herself to hear him out. She was in love with him after all.

‘WHAT DO YOU NEED?!’

Clark paused for a second, knowing how she reacted just standing up there was just the beginning, but he was about to ask a lot of her. But he had to try.

‘I NEED YOU TO JUMP!’

Lois’ eyebrows pulled into one, ‘YOU NEED ME TO WHAT?!’

‘I NEED YOU TO—‘

‘I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME CLARK! ARE YOU NUTS?!’

He sighed out and pressed his lips together, ‘LOIS! I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU TRUSTED ME!’

‘I DO BUT—‘

‘IF YOU DO … I PROMISE IT’LL BE WORTH IT!’ He reached out towards her.

She stared down at him, her eyebrows tugging into one as her eyes were finally able to make out a bit of his attire. A bright burgundy “S” carved into his chest. ‘Oh my god…’ she whispered to herself, covering her lips with her fingers.

‘I—I KNOW, LOIS! I KNOW I HAVEN’T BEEN TRUTHFUL AND I HID A LOT OF THINGS FROM YOU. BUT I WANT TO MAKE THIS RIGHT! FROM NOW ON, I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING… BUT YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME… YOU HAVE TO JUMP!’

Lois felt her heart pounding in her chest, her head grew dizzy and her palms shook.

‘LOIS?!’

She thought her brain was going to shut down on her. But she had to face this! This was her boyfriend! And her coworker! It’s not like she could avoid him, hell, they came here on this trip together! So she let out a deep breath.

‘w—what if I can’t?’

‘I KNOW YOU CAN. BECAUSE YOU’RE MY GIRL! YOU'RE THE BRAVEST PERSON I KNOW, LOIS!’

When she heard those words, it was like her adrenaline had kicked in. She needed that reassurance, she needed that reminder of who she was! And from her sights, it looked like she was up here and her boyfriend, better known as Superman, was waiting down below to catch her.

So she stood up and walked towards the edge and took another deep breath. ‘Alright… “you’re either pushed… or you fall…”.’ she repeated his words from earlier, ‘Who are you going to be Lo? The person who gets pushed? Or the one that takes that leap?’

Lois closed her eyes, ‘OK.’ And she opened her arms out and just pushed her body forward. ‘AHH!’ She let out a short scream as she began to free fall.

In the beginning of her fall, the moments seemed so serene and peaceful. Like nothing really mattered! She didn’t fear what would happen if she didn’t land in Clark’s arms. It was as if she was embracing death with open arms. But the longer she was in the air, the more anxious she became. She was starting to doubt him and even began to count. ‘One… two… threeee— CLAAARRRR—Oof!’

Abruptly, she felt herself being hit with the reverse of gravity. Landing right in his arms, Lois felt like she was floating! One of her eyes popped open to look all around, and then the other one popped open to look up at her lover.

‘Clark.’ Lois shuddered out as she stared up at him in awe.

Clark smiled down at her, one arm tucked beneath her knees and the other around her back.

Lois looked from his face to peak down below. They had to be at least 50 more feet off the ground.

‘I told you all you had to was trust me…I will always catch you, Lois.’

She smiled before looking up at him, ‘I know… I’m sorry I doubted you.’ She said, smoothing out the back of her fingers on his clean shaven jaw. ‘I love you, Clark.’ she said softly as her finger tips traced along the intricate detailing of the embroidered “S” on his chest. It wasn’t like any kind of fabric she had seen on Earth. It was so full of pigment and color. Remarkable!

‘I love you too, Lois.’

Clark then leaned down as Lois stretched up her neck to meet him in an Earth shattering kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her body flush against his. Their tongues fought one another for dominance and want.

Lois had broken the kiss but her eyes remained closed as her forehead rested against his. ‘Wait!’ She stirred out of her thoughts for a second and looked up at him, ‘Is that why we haven’t slept together? Because you were Superman the whole time?’ She held back her giggles.

A bright red hue grew on his face and he started to laugh, ‘Partly,’ he said before pressing his lips together, ‘But now that the cats out of the bag… I plan on indulging you… any way my mind sees fit.’ He said with a bit of Once we make it back to the hotel.’

‘Well, I like the sound of that!’ Lois squeaked as she clasped her hands together.

[yogs21134]

kind stranger on the internet, if u have the time and it is no inconvenience, a tutorial on how to make the yog world work would be amazing and immensely appreciated T^T

absolutely no problem! i'm here to serve :) i'm gonna explain this with the assumption you have no idea what you're doing, just so it's thorough.

so, first thing's first, go to the ATLauncher downloads page choose one of the options that's under your operating system (windows, mac, linux) then run the program it gives you. (if it's a setup version, you'll have some stuff to click through but that's pretty easy)

once you've got ATLauncher up and running, you'll want to log in with your minecraft/microsoft account (unsure if it makes you do that at first startup anymore but if it doesn't, it'll be in the Accounts tab) then head over to the Packs tab on the right

go to the search bar and look for Yogscast Complete Pack, it'll be the one with the blue and orange icon, then hit New Instance and Install. it'll come up with a bunch of optional mods, but i personally just select everything except the minimaps and morph

once that's done installing (it might take a while) go over to the Instances tab, and it'll be there. you'll want to mess with it a little bit before opening it, though. there's be a bunch of buttons under the description and that's we're gonna be

you'll definitely want to give it more memory/ram by going to Settings > Java/Minecraft and messing with the very first option. the number you'll want to set it to depends on how beefy your computer is, so make sure you know how much ram it has

after that you'll want to hit Edit Mods and disable Flatsigns, Obsidiplates, and Switches, as the launcher doesn't like to allow them to run anymore

if everything goes right, you'll be ready to import the world save. go to the download link in my (currently) pinned post, save that wherever, and since it's a rar file you may need to have 7zip or winrar to open it but i'm unsure. i personally use 7zip

go back to the ATLauncher and hit Open Folder, that'll open your instance in your file explorer. open the saves folder (or make one if you don't have one yet, 'saves' all lowercase) and extract your world(1).rar into there. you should be left with a folder simply called "world"

go ahead and run the pack and see if everything works! i have noticed a few other errors that come up, so:

if it's giving you an error along the lines of "two dimensions have the same id," try heading to the config folder (same directory as the saves) and find TwilightForest, open that and scroll down until you see # dimension, then change the number from 7 to 250 (or whatever else works)

if it's giving you an error along the lines of "can't connect to [whatever ip/url]" try editing the config of OpenBlocks and removing all radio stations

if it's something else entirely, try re-running/brute forcing it a couple times then come back and i'll see if i can figure it out i hope this helps you and anyone else that happens to need it!! don't hesitate to ask for clarification on anything :)

[nebula--dreams]

why are you accusing me of guilt tripping and lying when i just wanted further clarification on why i was blocked? /gen

i don't "suibait" antis either according to leyleyboy and plus anti harassment means to me is that i don't harass anyone over their ships but it doesn't mean that i let antis push me around and bully me.

i just wanted to fit in and follow more crp proshippers but ig i can't as i'll get accused of guilt tripping and lying over asking for clarification on why i was blocked so hopefully my rsd and mindset of perceived/real rejection won't go off causing me to split on someone i.e., you. you have BPD, so you must know how it feels.

i'm only commenting via anon ask as i can't message you directly to keep this private and there's no other way i can contact you that wouldn't be doxxing myself. if you take offense to this, go ahead. you can make a callout post and doxxed me too if you want. i don't care anymore.

You need to stop talking to me. You're too immature to handle simply getting blocked and talked about, nor seeing how you worded things is seen as guilt tripping.

I've had my fair share of people like you. I'm not interested.

I have bpd yes but I'm recovered, you clearly aren't and you show such behavior to make me think you aren't interested in recovering. I'm not interested in interacting with such people.

If you do go on to not only continue to talk to me, but split on me like you're threatening, I'm going to report you to staff. I am a stranger to you. I blocked you for your shitty behavior. I talked to someone who also had to block you. That's my " offense ".

Plus... I don't own the creepypasta fandom. You can find people who will like you. In fact, if you stop your toxic behavior then I'd gladly welcome you back.

I can't say as much for leyleyboy since I don't personally know them, but if they're gracious enough maybe them too

I suggest you step away from the internet a bit though, if you keep going while upset you will likely do something you are going to regret, I speak from personal experience.... go get a drink of water and eat something, small or big doesn't matter.

You can change your behavior and come back, if my approval means that much to you I will give you another chance for the mere exchange of changed behavior.

[astranite]

CH2 of Where was he? Pancakes.

Behold, a second chapter!! Thanks for everyones lovely comments and encouragement! I did not quite mean to stay up until midnight finishing this, but ADHD and I'm excited about this!! Enjoy!!!

@idontknowreallywhy yes im going to sleep now.

@edutainer2022 The rest of this, as you've already seen the first little bit!

Tumblr part 1 :)

---

Instead of pulling away from his brothers and getting to work like drill sergeant at the back of his mind nagged that he should be doing, Scott sunk into the group hug. Just a while longer. He needed this.

"What do I do now? I don’t know what to do now," he asked, or rather mumbled into John's t-shirt where he'd smushed his face. 

There. He'd admitted it even to himself. And his brothers. 

His voice was small where he'd meant it to come out as a demand or at least a question, not a pitiful cry for help.

Gordon gripped him tighter and so did Alan, and Scott was already leaning into Virgil's enveloping embrace at his side and John's fingers were still in his hair. 

He didn't actually know what to do with the mess he'd made of the kitchen or the unfinished pancake batter. The useless bowl of ingredients couldn't even be put back in their respective packets because he'd mixed them together because he hadn't thought further ahead than throwing them in. They were wasted. 

The idea of sifting apart flour and sugar and the baking powder that was possibly in there until it was like nothing had ever happened buzzed in his brain. Every solution he could come up with to undo it all was summarily discarded as they were impractical, impossible or simply ridiculous. Life didn't work like that. You didn’t get a do over on your mistakes, and even if anyone could it certainly wouldn’t be him getting the chance. 

But he didn't want to give up. What Scott wanted was to eat pancakes with his brothers, to get to laugh together without the pressing weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

Alright, at this point he would definitely prefer to jump out of One without a jetpack than face the kitchen, or y'know go cry in the shower. He had such great coping mechanisms. 

Just it was easier to think in the middle of a crisis. The present moment swallowed up all the mistakes of the past as the only thing that mattered in the universe was the next several seconds in the now. Doubt didn't have time to eat him alive; there wasn't time for vegetables to go mouldy in the bottom of the fridge. 

Maybe he'd dissolve into a puddle of suspicious goop too. Ugh, then someone would have to scrub the floor, which he'd be responsible for doing given it would be his fault if he liquified into hypothetical ooze. 

Gordon interrupted his thoughts, sing-songing out his name, "Scott, Scotty, Scooter, what can we do to help?" 

If he knew how they could help, that'd solve a lot of problems. 

Scott shrugged. Caring too much left him in the same place on the outside as caring too little. 

His brain steamrollered over Gordon's clarification of whether Scott wanted suggestions for what they could do.

The batter needed to be finished except that needed the eggs and other whatever it was that they didn't have, the fridge stuff needed to be dealt with by putting it in a place that wasn't the fridge, but those containers would have to be cleaned—

When A plus B equals C, you've still got to work out what bloody A is to find C.

"None of you deserve to have to clean up my messes," Scott burst out, "I should be able to do this on my own if I can just get my act together."

I don't need help. I've totally got this, I'm fine. I'm so completely fine, not that any of you would believe me if I said that. Not that he was doing a particularly good job of lying to himself right now either.

He was barely managing not to yell. 

His mind ran at lightning speed even as he knew he was missing out on the looks the others were throwing each other over his head.

He kept going, "I'd been meaning to do this for you guys, you know, as a nice breakfast we could enjoy on our day off..." Scott's voice jammed in his throat.

His brothers were here supporting him, but he still couldn't fix any of these problems because he was the cause of them.

"Scott." Virgil was as always his rock, there for him when Scott couldn't figure out which was was up. "You. Are. Allowed. To. Ask. For. And. Accept. Our. Help."

With how awful he was at remembering that no matter how many times everyone told him, he should let them permanent marker it onto his forehead and be done with it.

"We all need help with stuff. It doesn't make you incapable," Gordon said.

Scott never begrudged fetching Gordon heat packs when his back was bad so he didn't have to get up or rubbing at the sore muscles after missions or assisting with the physio exercises Gordon still had to do.

Alan butted in, “I mean I don’t like chores, ‘cause who does, but Scott, that’s totally unfair if you have to do everything!”

"Sprout, it's alright, I don't do everything," Scott reassured automatically.

Alan gave him a look of utter teenage incredulity. "Yeah, but you try to."

John’s arms tightened around him as he rested his chin on Scott’s head and said simply, "We help each other, on missions and at home. That’s who we are.”

Scott could hear the smile in John’s voice as added, “So, how about breakfast?”

He took a deep breath, filling up his lungs before letting it out, allowing his brothers’ presences steady him. “Breakfast.”

"They're Scott-special pancakes but that doesn't mean we can't all help," Gordon ruled firmly.

"We'd all rather that than you having to do it all on your own." John hesitated then added, "Scott, you remember when we used to cook with Mum and Dad? Sunday mornings, all of us crammed in the kitchen in our pyjamas, covered in flour, everyone helping out?"

Of course he remembered. It had hurt too much to think about for years and the ache of loss was still there, but now he had a chance to make new memories with his brothers right beside him. His small smile matched John's.

"It makes them more special, not less," Virgil said, "Because we get to spend the time together."

"Yeah Scotty, we want to hang out with you," Alan finished, and that was that.

The group hug transformed into a mission planning huddle, though John and Gordon remained propping Scott up on either side. 

Gordon was bouncing on his toes in anticipation, the fins on his clownfish towel flapping. "Okay. Where were we? Oh yeah, suggestions for us helping if you want us to give suggestions, because I don't want to stomp on what you're doing and take away your control over it 'cause that's really not actually helpful. But I do know how hard the 'thinking up what people should be doing' is when your brain is—" Gordon waved a hand about to complete the sentence. "So, yup."

Scott pressed his shoulder to Gordon's in silent appreciation of his thoughtfulness in the face of Scott's overwhelm. That's what he was, overwhelmed. 

"Having some ideas would help. Please."

"We'll clean up the kitchen together. We've all had a part in leaving stuff in the fridge too long," Virgil said calmly, like there wasn't any shame in it. Scott filed that away in the back of his mind for later consideration.

"Alan can take One to Aotearoa and get the eggs and blueberries. He needs the practice flight hours anyway," John put forward.

Alan’s face lit up as he immediately shook off Virgil's arm around his shoulders to jump to the ready. “Can I? Scott. Scott, please? I promise I won’t scratch her, I’ll be as careful as I am with Three, in fact I’ll be carefuller! Wait is that even a word? So can I?”

"Nope. Not quite a word," John chipped in affectionately when Alan had to take a breath.

"Alright, alright." Scott held his hands up. "But you'd better bring her back in one piece or you won't be getting any pancakes," he joked. Mostly. As long as One didn't end up wedged in the swimming pool...

One last moment was spent in the huddle with his brother as Alan darted back for a goodbye hug, no matter how short the flight would be. 

Putting their hands out in the centre in a stack, grinning at each other, they yelled in unison, “Tracies are go!!!”

Alan ran towards Scott's launch chute entrance, tossing over his shoulder, "Don't let Gordon eat them all before I get back!"

Gordon's indignant, "Hey!" was lost as the painting swung around, taking Alan with it.

"He does know that we need the eggs to make the pancakes which he is getting, right?" John asked as an aside.

"Eh, he'll work it out." Scott was looking after where Alan had gone wondering when their undeniably littlest brother had grown up so much. That applied regardless of continued brotherly taunting ‘cause wasn’t like he, John or Virgil had ever grown out of it.

Finally, the rest of them returned to the kitchen. Scott steeled himself as he stepped over the imaginary threshold separating it in the open plan design from the lounge.

The containers of spoilt food were sitting out on the bench where he'd left them, condensation dripping from the outsides in the subtropical heat. Unfinished pancake batter loomed from its bowl. Where would he even start? The multiple frying pans he'd need to cook such a big batch with were languishing in the bottom of the sink too.

Gordon set his hands on his hips, in a stand off against the mess. "Okey dokey. Scott, would you rather do dishes, begin emptying out the containers or make coffee so the Virge doesn't keel over? We'll split up the rest between us."

Scott found himself wandering over to the coffee station before he answered. It was the easiest, most straight forward task right now.

He bit his lips guiltily. "Can I?"

Virgil was already standing beside the sink, putting on an apron. He waved a pink rubber washing up glove at Scott in a 'go ahead' gesture, idly chewing on the corner of his flannel shirt collar.

That was about as much as he'd normally get out of Virgil before coffee, excluding missions and brotherly crises as this morning.

Scott inspected the array of coffee types set out in the cupboard next to the overly complicated, super fancy coffee machine Virgil insisted they have. It had more knobs and dials than Thunderbird Two's console he swore and that was already far too many, but Scott couldn't deny it made the best coffee.

None of that mattered though because above the machine was a laminated sheet of paper covered in Virgil's blocky handwriting outlining exactly the steps he had to follow in the order he had to do them, the same as a pre-flight checklist. Scott relaxed. Like a math problem, if he took it bit by bit he'd eventually end up at the right answer.

He'd make a cup for himself too. Not that it would wake him up, thanks ADHD, but he enjoyed the taste and it might do something for his focus.

Virgil's favourite coffee brand came in an electric green package with its name written in an indecipherable font most expected on a death metal album cover. Though at the strength Virgil drank it, it was pretty fitting. Scott had tried a sip once. Only once, as drinking undiluted tar was not his cup of, well, coffee. But Virgil loved the stuff.

Scott made the coffee and got out their biggest mug with the silly, absolutely tiny in proportion Thunderbird Two perched on the handle for his brother.

After passing Virgil his coffee, his brother turned it this way and that then grinned up at Scott. "Did you draw Two in the middle of the froth for me?"

Scott fetched his own coffee, before standing next to Virgil to squint into his mug. A lighter blob of foam floated in the centre. Those bits on the side could be the stubby wings. Though maybe Virgil was kidding, but he might not be so if he saw the Flying Turtle, the Great Green Bathtub, Thunderblob Two, who was Scott to protest artistic genius?

"Happy accident?" Scott told him as Virgil rolled his eyes and nudged his side.

Gordon stood on tip toe to look too. "It's not green. I mean, I could make it green!"

Virgil hunched protectively over his coffee. Do not get between Gordon and food dye was wisdom learned early.

"I think it looks more like Four," John deadpanned to significant outrage.

Scott cackled as Gordon attempted to mess up John's hair in revenge, both of them laughing at each other.

The coffee was warm going down as he took the moment to lean on Virgil as they both quietly sipped theirs, watching the others' antics.

His own mug had a comic of a Boeing aircraft crashing then bouncing down a runway, captioned 'boing.' Scott had giggled when he saw it in amongst the other mugs in the cupboard as he always did since Gordon and Alan had gifted it to him on his birthday, and decided he needed that today.

He held up for Virgil to inspect, along with John and Gordon glued together in their tackle hug. 

Laughing, he read the text out loud, complete with sound effects.  

Several hilarious minutes followed of them all repeating the sounds between them, bouncing around, echoing and playing off each other. Scott grinned so hard his cheeks ached. He needed this. 

Maybe it was the placebo effect or the time spent freely messing around with his brothers, but with the coffee in him Scott was starting to feel a little better about the world and possibly himself too. 

Better enough that he could face approaching the counter of suspicious containers to help Gordon.

Gordon was currently inspecting them with equal parts fascination and repulsion. He poked at the box Scott had found wedged at the very back of the fridge. 

"Do you reckon that's last month's meatloaf? Or maybe it was the stew. I think it's got its own ecosystem!"

Nope, nope, nope. It looked like it was about to crawl away. "Do not open that, Gords!"

Virgil and John gathered behind him, peering over his shoulders. Scott could tell without seeing exactly which utterly icked out face John made.

Come on, Scotty, he told himself, you've dealt with grosser things on rescues. And in raising very little brothers; he certainly did not miss some stuff. 

"We can sacrifice one container, right?" he said. Right? You had to know when to call it in the hopeless cases.

Unanimous noises of agreement were rapidly made. The container was summarily carried over to the bin with caution equivalent of handling radioactive waste. Scott wouldn't be surprised if it set off a geiger counter.

The punnet of blueberries he'd meant for the pancakes joined it. They were well beyond salvage. 

Scott tugged a hand through his hair, trying his best not to let the guilty regret swallow him up. The frustration surged, as even though they'd finally cleaned out the fridge and dealt with the stuff, he hadn't been able to prevent the waste happening in the first place.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he and Gordon wiped out the shelves so they could put back all the non-archaeological bottles of lurking sauces that he'd also taken out to get at the other stuff. The patch of mystery sticky substance probably didn't require as much scrubbing force as he was putting into it.

...it wasn't a mystery. It was the strawberry smoothie leftover from a morning Gordon had made too much that Scott had spilt while getting it out midnight to fuel his deadline induced frenzy of report writing. That had been only after he'd realised the reason he felt so shaky and sick was that he'd forgotten to eat all day despite several heavy, exhausting rescues.

After wiping up the last of it, he tossed the cloth into soapy sink with a splash. Immediately he was apologising for startling Virgil as the cloth flew past him as he did the dishes. 

There went Scott and another stupidly impulsive action. No one even had to tell him off for the gaping hole to open up in his chest. He stood in middle of the room, feet rooted to the floor, frozen as he resisted the urge to storm off to One's hanger or some other darker, damper crevice to curl up and probably sob about such a dumb mistake, so he wasn't abandoning his brothers.

Gordon's much smaller hand slipped into his own. 

"Do you wanna take a break, Scotty?"

Silently, honestly, Scott nodded. 

He followed Gordon's lead as he tugged Scott over to the patch of clear floor in the lounge by the full length windows.

Then, because this was Gordon, he just lay down on the ground with an exclamation of, "Floor time!"

Scott got down next to him and flopped onto his back staring upwards. At least attempting to work out where Gordon's offbeat schemes were going was a distraction from his thoughts tearing him apart. 

Virgil and John were still working away in the kitchen. The guilt gnawed. Scott screwed his eyes shut then rubbed the heels of his hands over them, hard enough to see spots before he opened them again as he really shouldn’t do that. He wound his fingers through the hem of his shirt, fidgeting.

Blue sky stretched above them, framed by the edge of the roof. Beyond the glass, sun shone through the cloudless expanse. Scott let himself relax into the floorboards.

"See, it's all good if you need some time out. We're proud of you, big bro." Gordon edged closer to press their shoulders and sides together.

"Thanks," Scott whispered.

He fixed his gaze back on the sky outside, on the wide, open, beautiful sky.

 "How did you know this would help?"

The fish nudged him. "Sometimes a change in perspective is what you need, getting in the ant's eye view if you will. You're too tall, the air gets thin up there."

"Like you'd get the heights, fish sticks," Scott joked.

Gordon's impression of mock offence, complete with hand clutching at his chest and shocked gasp, was ruined by his giggles.

For a moment he grew serious again, amber eyes taking Scott in. "And like literally it’s also a break so the rest of you can catch up with your brain. I get when there's so much going on up there anything extra tips you overboard."

Slowly, the world felt less like it was about to end as he briefly met Gordon eyes then turned to the blue above.

Scott bumped their heads together. "Thanks, again for everything."

"No problem, I'm always happy to help my bros."

It was impossible to miss the emphasis that this very much included Scott, despite him being the eldest.

Lying on the floor with Gordon in a pool of sunlight streaming in cut through the frantic spiralling he had been nose diving into again. 

Scott calculated the windspeed outside from the movement of the small branches at the tops of the pōhutukawa trees he could see upside-down at the corner of his vision. Little bits of leaves and debris, a constant pain to clean up on their heavily vegetated island danced across the concrete patio outside. 

"You reckon it's blowing about twenty, twenty-two kays per hour out there, Gords?" he said.

Gordon levered himself up and leant towards him to get a better look over to the ocean. "Yeah, thereabouts. Twelve knots."

They heard Virgil's hum from the kitchen before he chipped in, "Closer to twenty-four or so kays, I'd say."

"Bets all in?" The mirth in John's voice was obvious as he pulled up a holo, though Scott didn't doubt he had his own number in mind. "Our weather system puts Tracy Island local windspeed at twenty-two—"

Scott pumped a fist in the air.

"—Point nine kilometres per hour." 

Gordon cheered. "AKA twelve point four knots, boom!"

Scott rolled his eyes and high-fived Gordon in celebration.

With several more breaths of watching the sky, he sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Ready to go, Scooter?"

Scott stood before giving Gordon a hand up from the ground. "Yeah, I am." 

Coming back to the kitchen, the first thing Scott did was fall into Virgil's offered hug before he, Virgil Gordon and John gathered in a circle to work out what was next. When John got too wobbly on his feet to keep standing, he hopped up on the counter, sorting through the papers that had been stuck under the fridge magnets as Scott handed them to him. Categorised piles formed from the sticky note and post card debris heap before his eyes.

Alan's holo popped up on the com. "Hey everyone!"

Scott jumped at the sudden noise before grinning at his little brother. 

"I swear I was listening but what am I supposed to be getting, again?" Alan said, twisting one of his hoodie strings up before tucking the end into his mouth to chew on.

"It's alright Alan. Get a dozen eggs, actually make that two dozen if we want to have any for breakfast another day. The blueberries, a couple of packets. Bananas, while you're at it. Maybe more maple syrup, I don't know if we're out," Scott listed as he wandered over to the pantry to check. "More cornflakes!" he yelled back.

Scott returned to the kitchen proper to stick his head in the fridge to find out about their milk situation. He turned back to his brothers after determining they were probably two days from running out.

Alan on the holo glanced up from inspecting the bottle of caramel sauce that had materialised in his hand. "Uhh guys, I kinda missed everything after how many eggs?"

Scott winced. He should've noticed Alan was distracted by the overstimulating hell of a supermarket, and that as ADHDer number three he probably wasn't going to remember all the points on Scott's rambling list, hell, Scott didn't ever remember half of them and he was the one who'd just said them. He hadn't thought—

"Scott, I've got it." John waved his phone in the air before resuming tap-tapping out Scott's dictation. "Allie, I'll send you the list once I'm done.

"Awesome, 'kay thanks! Hey, can I get ice cream, it's half off?"

"Get the one with the marshmallows and the little fish!" Gordon exclaimed as he shoved his way into view. 

Alan hung up before Scott managed to get a word in edgeways. The fish of Gordon's favourite flavour were made of chocolate, not actual fish as Scott had feared the first time he'd tried it.

Alan would have the written list to refer back to, it was all alright. Scott didn't need to worry. Even if Alan had spent a while wandering the shops as One must've gotten there fast, his littlest brother had been more sensible than Scott had been in the past in calling them up for clarification. Or in the present.

It hadn't been the first time and it definitely wasn't the last, but Scott remembered getting sent out to the local shops to get bread as a teen and how he'd made sure to get everything from John's bagels, to the type of cereal Virgil liked and all the other stuff to go on sandwiches for school lunches, except he'd forgotten the bread and Dad had just sighed disappointedly, going back to his way more important work. Scott had barely managed to put everything away before bursting into tears, hiding in the kitchen by ducking below the cupboard level so no one would see at a glance. Damn, he hoped he was doing better than that with Alan.

"Thanks for the save, John," he murmured, approached to lean against the counter next to John.

Typing one-handedly, John reached out to squeeze Scott's hand with his other.

Instead of throwing himself back into the fray with frustrating emotions ready to boil over like he usually would, or joining in with whatever the fish and the tank were getting up to that involved overly loud whispering near the pantry, Scott boosted himself up to sit on the bench with John, carefully avoiding all the papers. With a quiet question so as not to surprise his brother as he was focusing, Scott ended up leaning his head on John's shoulder for a bit to rest. John leant into him too. 

A change of perspective did help. Scott was doing okay. Not perfect, but well enough, no matter how hard that was to admit that when he spent too many nights up worrying about all the things he should've somehow done better. As well, some part deep inside him nudged that maybe, possibly he also deserved the kindness he gave everyone else but never himself. 

Gordon spotted him taking the moment out and they shared a smile. Gordon being Gordon also gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. See? Scott told himself, Progress.

Shortly, Alan's holo popped up again, back in Thunderbird One.

"Groceries are stowed, enroute to Tracy Island now!" Alan chirped.

"FAB," sounded off from all of them.

Everyone was now listening out for the sound of One. Several stomachs growled.

Soon, soon they'd finally have pancakes.

The minutes passed in suspense. Scott put the organised papers back on the fridge, filed them over at the desk or chucked them in the recycling as John directed.

They discovered the fishtank plan in the form of the opened bag of chocolate bits being squabbled over.

"Can we make some choc chip ones too?" Virgil was practically vibrating with excitement. 

Gordon unrepentantly stole a chocolate chip. "What he said," Gordon campaigned, despite Scott knowing that Gordon actually preferred the blueberry and banana pancakes as his top pick.

Finally rockets arrived with a roar, as the pool slid open and One disappeared into it.

Then the elevator dinged and Alan triumphantly stumbled out carrying far too many bags for one person. 

"Good work!" Scott cheered, as he and Virgil rushed to help.

"Thanks, Scotty!" Alan lit up. "Also I'm starving."

"Well we'll soon fix that problem!"

Scott took the eggs and cracked them one by one into the bowl of dry ingredients for his pancake batter. Just to show off, he did it one-handedly. The blueberries were washed and he added them in, popping a couple in his mouth too for good measure. Someone needed to taste test, it was tradition, all the way back to the ranch and small hands trying to sneak around Mum before she bopped them playfully with the sticky wooden spoon. The berries were the perfect ripeness, sweet with that tiny edge of tartness cutting through right.

"The baking powder," Scott began, "I don't—I've got no idea if its in there or not."

The pancakes wouldn't rise it he had forgotten,  they'd fall flat as unfortunate, failed pancakes. But in reverse, if he had put it in and added more—he'd made that mistake before. The resulting puffy ooze resembled a science experiment more than an edible food.

"I found the box of baking powder open on the bench, if that helps," Virgil gave him.

"Yeah, it was right next to the bowl. Looks like it had just been sat down." Gordon confirmed.

Alan's eyebrows were crumpled into an incredibly serious expression as he contemplated. "I think you probably did put it in, Scotty."

There was no guarantee. But he could take the leap, having faith in his brothers and the best guesses they all had.

"Okay, alright. The batter is done then!" he said, putting as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could muster.

Virgil shooed Alan out to set the table , following with plates so there wouldn't so many cooks in the kitchen with the potential to bump the hot stove.

Gordon set the several pans to heat, guarding over them as he added butter, melting and bubbling.

Scott lingered, beating the last lumps out of the mix with the whisk. He bumped John's dangling legs out of the way of the drawers so he could dig out a ladle. 

"Worse case scenario, we will make another batch. We have enough ingredients," John said quietly, just to him as the others danced about preparing things to eat the pancakes with, Gordon pretending he wasn't listening to them also.

Scott could always trust John to think through all the possibilities on missions, even, especially the hard ones. It was more reassuring to know that they had a plan if stuff all went to hell, than pretend it simply wouldn't. Biting experience had taught him better than that. 

This though was just making pancakes for his brothers, not saving the world from high stakes catastrophe. His brothers, who no matter how badly he messed up would always love him. 

Scott ladled batter out into the pans, flipping the pancakes over once they grew bubbly and cooked at the edges.

Even when the first one fell apart and turned out rather burnt on one side as he attempted to salvage it after flipping too soon, they all tore it to pieces and ate it anyway as a snack before the proper ones.

The next turned out golden brown, speckled with the blueberries.

Scott grinned happily, joy bubbling up inside his chest.

He made sure to make some blueberry and choc chip ones, and blueberry and banana ones, separating out the mixture. Then some all of the above ones too for good measure.

Virgil and Alan were singing along to a boppy pop song Scott would probably find stuck in his head later. Gordon twirled around the kitchen, dancing along with his wonderfully ridiculous clownfish towel swirling. John kept him company, nodding his head with the beat before he joined in the singing, swinging his legs slightly out of time, carefree. Scott flipped the pancakes, tossing them recklessly high in the air, waving the spatula and moving his whole body with the music, wiggling his hips and bouncing on his toes in excitement. 

Scott ate pancakes with his brothers, closer to noon than to breakfast time but everyone swore this lot were the best they'd had. They laughed together and the weight of the world pressing on Scott's shoulders didn't feel so heavy.

[looselyreadymade]

Part 13: Ahead of the Game

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH 

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, panic, drugs, violence, mild gore, reader x Alastor, reader x Vox, ADDICTION, SEXUAL ASSAULT, DISSOCIATION, ABUSE, DRUG WITHDRAWAL, ACTIVE RECOVERY (this and the last chapter got dark real quick. I'm so sorry. But my god did it feel freeing to write such a painful story arc. Please do not read on if you are under 18 or triggered by the above features or think these themes may affect your mental health. I will post clarification in future chapters when the dark has passed and it's safe to read on if you need to avoid these themes. As it always does, it will get better, I promise. Hope is very strong on the horizon, in life and fanfic <3 )

POV: Anonymous Letters 

The first of the letters arrived on the Monday, delivered by a hooded figure. They knocked, awaited to be let in before giving the letters, avoiding showing their faces to any potential cameras. After handing the letter to Husk at the reception, the demon hastily walked out, not looking back. 

Husk looked at the small envelope with a messy ‘A’ on the front. Assuming it was creepy fan-mail for Angel, he laid it on the desk and returned to his doom scrolling. 

He completely forgot to tell anyone about it by the time everyone came down for dinner. Angel still hadn’t returned from shooting in the studio. The letter remained untouched, forgotten. Alastor had served up a delicious Creole dish with multiple sides that everyone was chowing into when they heard a female voice calling out a “hello?” 

Curiously, Charlie leapt up, followed by Vaggie to greet the potential new guest. They were wearing a pink hoodie, hung low over their face, holding her hands in her pockets. The woman asked if they worked at the hotel; confirming, she passed them the envelope and ran out the door to her parked bike, speeding off. 

Charlie eyed the small envelope, baffled. They brought it into the kitchen with the others, holding it up, asking if this was for Angel, Alastor or someone else? Husk snapped his finger, “oh shit yeah, i forgot. Left it on the side. It’ll be for angel. Alastor doesn’t get letters from fans.” He smirked at the demon, side-eyeing him. Alastor chuckled, waving off the comment and acknowledging it belonging to the famous porn star. Charlie looked at the letter, still confused. “Wait what do you mean? I was literally just given this, right now. When did you get a letter?” 

Surprised, Husk wandered to the front desk, returning with the exact same scrawled letter ‘A’ on an identical envelope. “Two creepy letters? Damn, someone’s trying too hard.” 

Vaggie takes the letters from Charlie and Husk, pocketing them. “They’re for Angel to do what he wants with, creepy or not. Come get some more food, guys.” 

A few hours later, Alastor had slunk to his room while Cherri, Husk and Vaggie watched a movie. Charlie was in the workshop, fixing together a project piece for one of their next activities. 

Angel walks in, stretching out his back. 

“Rough day huh? Got somethin’ to cheer you up.” Husk points to Vaggie, who holds up the letters.  

“Two of ‘em? From the same guy?” 

“They were delivered separately, by different couriers. Husk got one this morning, the second turned up during dinner. Go on, open them.” 

He pulls out the folded sheet, squinting to make out the scrawled writing. “Hey, guys? This ain’t for me, it’s for Alastor. And i think it’s a threat?” He threw one of the letters through the air, Husk catching it neatly.  

They read it, shocked and confused. 

“Hey, Alastor! Get your butt down here! Someone’s threatening your ultimate power!” 

His shadow soared across the hallway into the lobby, down the walls to stand behind Vaggie. “Hmmm?” 

She passed him a letter. His face twists in disgust as he tried to decipher the writing. “This truly is awfully written.... the details though... what does the other note say?” 

“It’s the exact same, chicken scratch and all.” 

He squints, intrigued. “This doesn’t seem much of a threat. Actually, more of a letter of concern. Is someone afeared for my wellbeing? HA!” 

“This is incredibly strange. Two letters, from two separate deliveries, the exact same warning. I think someone went out of their way to stay anonymous here, Al. This might be real, and serious. It literally lists the times and dates you go to cannibal town. Do you think maybe someone could be trying to save you from an ambush?” 

“Ha ha, i doubt it my dear. Even if they were so foolish as to assume i needed the help, i hardly heed anonymous cries for attention. If i wish to see my friend, i shall do so at my whim.” 

Vaggie pinches her chin, thinking. “I mean... maybe it’s not the cannibal town part that they’re warning you about, maybe it’s more the journey there. What if you got a taxi this week, instead?” 

Alastor looked annoyed at the implication. “And avoid my assailants? They no longer have the element of surprise, if that would have made any difference whatsoever. No, i don’t particularly concern myself with this level of half-baked assumption.” 

He discards the letter to the table before strolling back upstairs, unphased. 

Two days later, Lucifer returns to the hotel with minor updates about the Goetia heiress. He had managed to have her looked after by Belphegor, who she got along with hilariously well. Charlie thanked him for ensuring she got somewhere safe, reminiscing on how you made the sacrifice of your own life to save Octavia. Your memory was fond in her mind, aching her chest, but bringing joy for what you had done for someone else. In a horrifyingly beautiful way, it had mirrored the loss of Sir Pentious. Vaggie suggested a movie night to watch a film that you had said you loved the earth version of. Three guests and all the hotel staff crowded into the small lounge corner with snacks, drinks and a sense of family. 

Later that night, towards the end of the movie, the TV changed channel to a city-wide broadcast. Vox took the screen, stood with his chest puffed proudly in a long black and neon trim coat, looking like he owned the world. He introduced his new and improved app, 'VitalityV'. He gestures to an on-screen animation of the app’s user interface, the cyan of his face a shade brighter than the royal blue in the studio background. He introduces the app as a game changer, a platform like no other to express and improve oneself. He invites the audience to attend a grand opening at the Vees tower this Friday night, to welcome everyone into the Vee family. “What we have, we will share with you. Trust us.” The camera zooms in on his hypnotic eye. Everyone in the room covers their eyes except Niffty, who gets hers covered by Alastor after a few seconds. The audio of the commercial becomes a rhythmic song without lyrics. The screen goes black, followed by shimmering light reflected off a curved surface, swinging on the screen. The camera pans, revealing your hips. Your clawed gloves loosely swung by the shiny material. The whole room drops a few degrees in temperature. All at once, they all recognise the gloves... and who wears them. The next shot of you peering over your shoulder, looking unphased as an animation of the app plays in the background. They watched the recording of you interacting with the app, then cuts to the next sultry scene, one after another, barely tied into the theme of an app at all. This was purely to attract attention, and fuck had it worked. The angle of your crouching and licking the blood particularly disturbed the group, especially Charlie, who let out a “Holy Fuck.” followed by Angel’s “Yeah. Fuuuuuck.” 

The commercial ends with your stride to the Vees and touching Vox’s shoulder. The air around the TV went black as the lights flickered. Everyone knew Alastor was freaking out, but they couldn’t look away from the screen. 

The screen flicked back to the forgotten movie before switching off. Three very long seconds passed before everyone started shouting and exclaiming that you weren’t dead, how did you survive, why were you with the Vees, what the hell went wrong. All except Alastor, who’s form was shifted into full Radio Demon, still locking his piercing eyes with the now blank television screen. 

 Lucifer grabs Charlie, exclaiming “it’s her, she’s alive! She’s really alive!” He looks overjoyed until seeing Charlie’s horrified pale face. “What’s wrong Char? Why aren’t you happy? She’s okay!” 

She knew this was far from okay. Very, very far. They had left her. Assumed she was dead when they couldn’t find her. She probably didn’t even know how hard or long they looked, the hellhounds and imps and investigators they hired, how Alastor had torn demons apart trying to find witnesses with information. Oh Shit, Alastor. She looked over to him, still completely paralysed. She was truly afraid to speak to him right now. 

“Charlie?” Lucifer pleaded, not understanding. A tear rolled down her cheek as she blinked and threw her arms around him. “We messed up dad. We really, really messed up. She’s never going to forgive us.” Her sobs quietened some of the shouting from the other characters. Vaggie stopped arguing with Angel about whether you were safe or not in order to comfort Charlie.  

He hugged her close, feeling the pain in her daughter’s voice. “She’s alive, that’s more than we could have ever dreamed of. Whoever those guys are, they must have found her. Can’t we go see her now?” 

A pitch of radio tuning startled them mid conversation. “No.”  

Everyone turned to Alastor, anxiously awaiting for him to continue. 

Eyes still locked on the picture box, he spoke in pure radio static, venomous and cold. “No, you cannot go see her now. She’s in the clutches of some of Hell’s most manipulative, narcissistic, controlling maniacs with God complexes. If you dare to approach them, they will be expecting you. I even believe this may have been a ploy to lead us to them. It’s not common for the trio to extend an open invitation like this, and especially not on that box.” His finger, lengthened by the demonic shift, pointed at the TV. “They will be expecting for us to try to save her. It’s a trap, no doubt. We must prepare our own counter offensive and backup measures. I am familiar with the Vees personally; this will be my mission to lead, if you shall have me as so.” 

Vaggie, hesitant but compassionate, tells him “alright Alastor, you’re definitely the best one for figuring out their motives. You’re right, it’s definitely a trap. But we need to do this carefully. What if they’re trying to get a reaction out of you? Trying to make you go full Radio Demon and trick you somehow? This seems targeted, at us. The app, if it’s really what it sounds like, might be some sort of mind control. I really don’t want us risking losing one of our best allies to their mind games.” 

Alastor relaxes slightly at the compliment, ego swelling. He huffs, frustrated. “I see. Well as long as you utilise the information i give you, i trust we will be in full confidence and high spirits getting back our girl.” 

The look was as much eager as it was menacing. Nobody was comfortable with it. 

Lucifer met Charlie’s eyes again, apologising. “I’m so sorry. If I'd known... i’d never have left her. I swear. I’ll make sure we get her back, no matter what.” Gratefully Charlie hugs him again, needing the reassurance. “I know dad, you did exactly what you were asked, it’s-” 

“If you DARE say ‘not your fault’ i will personally find every angelic blade this side of the pentagram and play acupuncture with ‘his highness’s’ vital organs. Do not doubt me, princess.” 

Vaggie steps in, diffusing before Lucifer could snap back. “Hey, hey, alright, we get it, you’re pissed and Lucifer’s sorry. Turn the page. Let’s work together on this and argue later. Think of her,” gesturing to the blank TV, “and what she’s probably been through. As far as she knows she got shot and left for dead. I doubt they told her about us looking for her. Might have even weaponised that. We need to remember the brainwashing Vox does. Alastor, can you talk us through how it works?” 

The drawing board with pins and strings came out in full force as the group debate the strengths and weaknesses of the Vees. It was difficult for them to acknowledge the full force of their failure to save their friend. They could only make it up to you now by bringing you home. 

POV: Trapping a trapper 

You can feel the buzz in the city as everyone prepares for the app celebration party. Nightclubs and bars across town are alight with people conversing about what to wear, who to bring. You hadn’t braved leaving the Vees tower since you sent out those notes; unfortunately, there’s going to be three very disappointed unpaid demons out there. You’ll try to repay them later, with interest. For now, you just need to survive. 

Vox made you wear a soft velvet choker than matched your gloves. It had a rounded blue pendant dangling from it, slightly glowing with electricity. You had no doubts this was a tracker or recorder of some kind. You made sure to take it off before leaving the bedroom that night. 

Later, after your usual routine, you settled in front of the wall of screens with a plan forming. All the notes and details about the gala were saved in a subfolder that Vox had tried to keep out of logical sight; you knew him well enough to overcome this pathetic hiding attempt. He really did think so fucking little of you, didn’t he? 

You memorised the details, the itinerary, the planned guestlist of VIPs, the ones to watch for. Hazbin Hotel staff included. In bold, red highlight. No surprise there. Next came the coding. You used your VPN and copy-pasting skills to create a secret network of backdoors into the Vee tower’s programming. You planted the keys in the lighting, the fire sprinklers, the automatic doors, the WiFi, the speakers, one by one establishing your escape route. However they assumed this was going to go, you were at least five steps ahead. 

Looking through the keystroke history, you noticed a few visits into the audio file logs during the day, not made by you. Had Vox been exploring the archive? Why? 

The answer came soon enough, bringing the whole exposé to light. Vox had copied segments of the conversation between Alastor and Rosie; particularly the parts about trying to remove Lucifer from the equation and needing Charlie’s power. There were also copies made of the discussion about you, with Alastor bragging about having nearly got you into a contract. There were at least three variant copies of this clip, presumably for different uses. He was collecting evidence to expose Alastor in front of everyone. You strongly doubted warning Alastor not to come would make a difference; at least he could defend his name if he was there.  

Typing and pasting code furiously, sped up by the powerful narcotics, you create a counter-attack that will destroy his weak attempt to ruin Alastor. You just had to pray on any God that would listen that Vox didn’t find your coding before the gala. You were meticulous, setting up a vicious counter move using Vox’s own words against him. Your final step was to weaponize a brutal trojan virus. This thing needed to be contained until the very last moment, or it would ruin everything. Neatly packaged in layer upon layer of cyber security, you set it to detonate and release into every back door you created upon hearing voice activation of four words that you were absolutely unequivocally sure would not be uttered by accident in the same sentence. Or anywhere near each other, really. You’re not even sure YOU could say them. But if Vox wants to destroy the Radio Demon and turn all the people who care for him against him, you had to play really fucking dirty and extremely carefully to stop him. Hell knows how long it will take him to debug this system if you detonate this bomb.

  

POV: If you can’t take me at my worst, personified (at the app release party) 

The doormen had a quick-test kit for filtering out angels. One little stab on the finger; if you bled any colour other than gold then you would be allowed in. They gave no flexibility for the King of Hell, nor Vaggie, despite multiple protests.  

Angel led the group through to the nightclub floor of the Vees tower. A bouncing tune thrummed a steady bass into the room, spotlights and mini disco balls throwing diamonds across the floor and walls. A long black bar spanned the length of the right wall, tended by demons with consistently broad shoulders and cropped hair, highlighting their horns. Guests mingled across the steadily filling room, blocking most of the view to the stage up ahead. They filed through, dodging overexcited patrons recording their videos in the flashy dancefloor. Husk kept his guard up, feeling tense in the upbeat room, as if a calm before the storm was brewing. “I don’t like this, Charlie. You sure she’ll be here?” 

Charlie clutches his hand in a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure she will. Right now, the Vees are flaunting her like an asset on that app. She’s practically the main face of it. She has to be here.” Her firm words were betrayed by her nervous glances around the room, not seeing you anywhere. 

Alastor followed from behind, staring directly ahead to the stage before his expression neutralises into a plastered smile.  

Charlie, uncomfortable without Vaggie as she was barred entry, kept her arms close to her body. Not wanting her to feel so exposed, Angel put an arm around her shoulders, encouraging her to try to relax, nothing was going to happen to the four of them, and Vaggie was safer out there than in here anyway. 

She looked purposefully at him, saying “I know, Angel, thanks. But it’s not us I'm worried about.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I really think Alastor might start a fight in here. You saw how he was when the commercial aired... Honestly i don’t know which way it would go without Vaggie or dad here.” 

Angels rubs her shoulders, hiding his own similar concerns. Also whispering, he comforts her, “I know Charlie, i know. It can’t be too bad though, right? As long as we can get him to hold off long enough for us to persuade her to come back to the hotel, we should be fine.” 

She smiled at him, remembering their plan. Alastor stepped next to them, cocking his head. “May i be impartial to this discussion?” 

Charlie blinks. “We were just, uh, giving each other moral support. This is a lot, you know? I mean, what if she’s happy here and doesn’t want to come back? Or they own her soul or something? Or what if-” Alastor silences her with a finger pressing against her lips, shushing her. “Now now my dear, speculation is hesitation. We must abide only by facts. And as of now, we know she is alive, and i would say that is miracle enough.” 

Husk shrugs stiffly before complaining more about his gut feeling being off. The group is quiet, not disagreeing. 

The crowd clears enough to see the stage ahead; a large semi-circle of luminous plastic flooring, glowing spotlights and a singular pole in the centre. 

Angel laughs awkwardly, “I guess they must have got someone else to take the stage, they sure didn’t ask me.” 

Charlie and Alastor do not order anything, eager to keep their wits about them. Husk and Angel preferred to ease some of the nerves with a freshly opened bottle of beer each, watching the bartender closely to avoid being spiked.  

The music shifts to a flashy pop song with a breathy female voice and male backup vocals. The stage brightens as all guests look toward a wall of dry ice smoke filtering down the back wall like a waterfall. Emerging from behind the smoke, Vox, Valentino and Velvette stride out, welcoming the applause in the room. Charlie claps politely, unsure what to do, letting her hands drop when the others remained stoic. 

Velvette takes centre stage, announcing their arrival, “Welcome to the party, fuckers! This is the grand celebration for our new and improved app, formerly known as Voxbox. Say hello to the best shit you have ever subscribed to: VitalityV!” 

The room erupts as the lights spin and flip, releasing a cloud of confetti from the ceiling. Angel shrinks slightly, feeling dread pit in his stomach as Valentino meets his eyes with a lecherous grin.  

Valentino speaks next, “You all know how fucking hot we can get it in here. The Vee’s tower is the pinnacle of the sex, drugs, and sin of Pentagram City. I bet you thought we were inviting you to a platform where you can view and share explicit videos without filters. But who the fuck hasn’t got that already nowadays? We have something a little different.” He looks to Velvette to continue speaking.  

“The VitalityV is more than a social media platform, it’s a self-improvement exercise tool. Our success has thrived on the techniques we know WORK, and we think it’s time to share that shit with you, our people.” 

Vox steps forward, cocky. “The best way we can help uplift our citizens of Hell is to ensure you are all well supported, nurtured and encouraged to learn and grow. Hell is no longer a place of suffering and stagnation; we, the Vees, are rising above that. VitalityV brings you video after video of our very own guidance to bring you the power to become who you were always destined to be.” 

Charlie and Angel look at each other, shocked. None of them expected this.  

The Vees continued, marketing their newly branded app for a few more minutes before bowing to a cocophany of applause. The guests seemed genuinely thrilled to be wanting to improve themselves? Isn’t this what the Hazbin Hotel has been fighting for them to do for a couple of years? Where was this reception then, Charlie mused angrily. Alastor placed a hand on her shoulder, seeing the rage building. He gives her a stern warning glance with his eyes, startling in comparison to his usual wide grin. She shakes his hand off and continues to watch the Vees. 

The Vees disperse among the crowd, talking to guests, networking their product.  

 They try to avoid the Vees as much as possible, especially Valentino. They bump into a few people they know from Hell, making distracted small talk until the conversation fizzles out. Alastor barely utters a word, even when asked direct questions.  

Vox is stood by the stage, schmoozing a couple of near-overlord level power players. He meets Charlie’s gaze and raises his martini to her. She panics, giving an incredibly awkward fake smile, bearing her teeth with a nervous wave. He returns to his potential investments, sweet talking with eyebrows raised. 

Charlie covers her eyes with one hand, embarrassed, while Angel laughs sarcastically, “smooth.” 

Husk keeps distracting Angel to keep him occupied. Valentino was focused on making him uncomfortable, successfully. 

Alastor suddenly growls, low and angry. The others spin to see Vox only a metre away, hands behind his back, swinging on his heels as he greets Alastor with false cheer. “You made it, excellent. I was worried you would miss the main event. Have you had a particularly hard time with the loss of your dear friend, Al?” 

Barricading his emotions behind a shield of humour, Alastor laughs vigorously, swatting a hand in the air. “Oh, no! Not at all! You know how i do enjoy a good murder mystery, especially when it remains a mystery. It was quite a disappointment to see her pop back up alive and well. Ruins the intrigue, don’t you think?” 

Vox’s immediate scowl betrayed his facade. “You honestly don’t give a shit about her? Not one?” He raises an eyebrow, smirking. 

He responds casually, eyes slightly narrowing. “If i were to care for the lives of every fallen sinner in Hell i wouldn’t have time for my radio show.  Now that would be a great shame.” 

Vox snickers, seeing through the deflection. He figured it was time to start riling up the old-timey bastard. 

Vox straightens his posture and locked eyes with each of the other Vees before staring back at Alastor, unnerving the Hazbin group. “Alas, if you don’t really care then maybe your time here is wasted. Still, i hope you enjoy the show... It’s all thanks to you.” His savage grin hints at his sadistic meaning. 

Not making any further remarks, Alastor stared him down as the Overlord closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. The room tinted a few shades darker, highlighting the stage ahead. Dry ice filtered from the ceiling again, creeping across the stage as a new song began. 

They froze, hearts stopping in tandem as you walked out onto the stage.  

POV: Onto the stage 

You had no idea if they were there. You assumed they would be, yet you kept your eyes fixed on the stage floor. Vox had made you learn how to dance in stilettos without Alastor’s magic supporting you. It took immense focus to remember the moves to a dance you had given up learning. Once you were this high, you just had to wing it. The Vees were happy enough with the routines you improvised over the last few days. They honestly didn’t care too much; as long as you looked good, didn’t fall over, and made Alastor furious then you had done your job. 

POV: The dance 

Angel gently let out a cry, saying “oh god no, oh god. What the fuck has he done to her.” His eyes were wide with pinpointed irises, an exact mirror of Alastor’s horrified expression. 

Their human friend from the hotel, who they promised to protect and look after, was doped out of her shit in stilettos and a tiny black stripper set. Not an inch of her exposed body was unharmed. The bruises ranged in colour, mostly soft yellows and oranges, with some more vibrant fresh purples and reds. Long scratches etched down every limb, criss-crossing and tracing down every extremity. Her neck was partially hidden by a black choker with a glowing pendant, not wide enough to cover the still fairly fresh bite and scratch marks. Her eyes were unfocused and wide as saucers, unseeing anything beyond the pole. She threw herself into impressive moves, showing off her strength, but there was no passion, no tease, just empty expressions and seductive poses.  

The song reached the second chorus, the energy in the room building. Vox stood at the foot of the stage and looked back over his shoulder, eyeing Alastor. The evil prick lingered his glare for a few seconds before using a finger to gesture to the dancer. Obeying, she swayed her hips as she slowly stepped towards him, kneeling into a crawl as she got near. He stood at the stage, hands on hips. She swung her legs around to straddle Vox, squeezing her thighs suggestively at his hips while leaning back, part of the dance. She ran her hand up his torso, lifting herself back up with an arch in her spine, looking dully with a slightly parted mouth at the Overlord’s screen. He reached up, held her neck and kissed her, slipping something in her mouth with his.  

Releasing her to continue the dance, she lifted her legs to roll into a crawl and dance on the stage floor in front of him, as if it were one of his private dances, slow and suggestive. She braced a foot as she stood, wobbling slightly in the heels, collecting herself as she danced towards the pole and began throwing herself into moves again. She slid down the pole with both hands wrapped around it, knees bending into a slut drop. The drug Vox gave her trickled down the side of her lip. Red, like blood, but with a pink residue. Valentino’s potion. Her eyes rolled as she performed the final moves, beginning to struggle with the loss of focus. The song ended with her dramatically dropping to her knees with the gyrating of her hips on the stage floor. Her head hung forward, breathing hard. The audience applauded enthusiastically, multiple wolf-whistles and cheers heard from across the room.  

Angel didn’t realise he was crying. Husk took his hand, also devastated. The two stared at the shell of the powerful, fierce friend they once knew. 

Charlie couldn’t move as she watched the performance, barely able to breathe. She was shaking, from anger and shock. 

Alastor looked like he was in agony. He clung to his smile like a lifeline, the corners of his lips trembling. He was assessing every single mark on her. Every way Vox had hurt her. Vox had massacred every part of her body he once touched. The thought was excruciating. How long had she been suffering like this?  

She finally lifted her head, rolling it slightly. She made it to her feet, stepping as carefully as she could in the state she was in, off the stage. A servant came to touch up her makeup, removing the dripping potion from her chin. She was shaking her head as if trying to clear it, her movements disjointed and unsteady. Angel tried to go near her, to be with her. Two stocky bodyguards blocked him almost immediately. “Please, she’s my friend. I need to see her, just for a minute. Please, let me in!” 

Valentino came up behind him, grabbing his forearm, whispering, “now Angel Dust, you know the rules. No touching the dancers unless you’re paying for it. Besides, she belongs to Vox now.” 

His eyes darted between Valentino and her. “Vox did this? The bruises?” 

“Lovebites, essentially. He’s not a gentle lover, i can attest to that.” 

Angel felt sick. He’d hurt her in so many ways. The worst thing was... it was like looking into a mirror of his past, before he met Charlie. This was him. High as fucking shit, dancing for a master who assaulted him beyond care nor measure. He let out another cry as the tears welled again. Valentino savoured the sight, admiring Vox’s handiwork. He’d outdone himself this time, he thought. Absolutely wrecked the little hotel demons to their core. 

Charlie pulled Angel out of Valentino’s hands, defending him. The Overlord immediately growled at her, furious at the disrespect. Angel didn’t even care, He was too focused on trying to bargain his way through the guards. 

POV: executing the plan 

You swayed slightly as the heels stung. The narcotics barely cushioned how much they were hurting your feet. You’d already performed, surely now you could just sit down. Maybe take something to help you relax a little more. 

Every so often you realised your eyes were closed. It didn’t matter. Being awake didn’t matter right now. You wanted to sleep so, so badly. 

You felt like you were hallucinating, hearing Angel’s begging voice. You didn’t even look up. It didn’t matter. Valentino still had his contract. You couldn’t help him. 

The assistant cleaning you up took your elbow and started to lead you to the back door. 

You didn’t make it three steps closer to the door before thick black tentacles sliced through the air, slamming the door shut and blocking your way. Alastor. He must be here, you pondered, not able to focus on what that meant.  

The room silenced immediately, the music cutting off abruptly. Thank God, it was giving you a headache.  

“DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE.” 

You turned, stumbling, to figure out where the disembodied voice came from. Near the front of the stage, in thick clouds of black air and vivid green stitches across his mouth and hands, Alastor glared at you. It took a long moment for you to notice the ring of people surrounding him with guns pointed at him, Valentino included. Angel was held off to the side by Charlie, blocking him from Alastor’s lashing out.  

Vox laughed, maintaining the power in the room. “Oh, you want to act like you care? Pity. Perhaps you should have cared more when you left her for dead, bleeding out in the street.” 

“I searched! For days i-” a gun pressed into his throat, cutting him off. His eyes shrunk even further into pinpricks, furious. 

“Alastor, you’re embarrassing yourself. Everyone knows you don’t actually care about anyone except yourself. Not even the poor souls you claim to help rehabilitate in that little hotel of yours, Charlotte.” 

Her demon form took over as she fought back, shouting “he does care! He helped protect the hotel when no one else would! He’s the reason we had all the cannibals supporting us, why we had time to fight off the angels while he took on Adam. He’s far braver than you will ever be, coward!” 

He grins back, unphased. You know they’re falling right into Vox’s plan, taking the bait. Your head swirls as you remember something, you were supposed to say something? To... activate something? What the hell was it? 

Velvette spoke next; striding next to Vox, she faced Charlie with a cocky smile. “Bold of you to assume the hotel is anything less than an advantage in his sick game. Why do you think we’re creating this app? The hotel doesn’t work, because it’s being sabotaged by your own fucking bellhop!”  

Alastor went to speak, quickly silenced by two guns cocking and the barrel against his neck digging in. 

“You’re lying, Alastor is one of us, he believes in us!” 

Many eyes dart to Vox, who is making beeping noises on his smart watch. Your mind starts to clear a little as you realise he’s making his big move. Concentrate for fuck’s sake, focus. This is important, you know it. The cloudiness is just too strong for you to remember why. If only you hadn’t taken that pill off Vox. The kiss. God, his awful, forceful kisses. You hated this, hated everything he’d made you do for so long. All you wanted was to be back at the hotel, whether they wanted you or not. Whether Alastor wanted you or not. Your mind fog dissipates for long enough to realise what you’re thinking. It’s not about whether Alastor wants you, it’s that you need him, whether it’s to save or be saved by him. His human and demon side, both two sides of the same coin, a man incapacitated by years of abuse becoming so incredibly powerful to protect something so vulnerable inside. That was the key, you remembered now. 

The watch brightens as a holograph appears, showing an audio file with numbers for the title. You already know what’s coming. Your face scrunches as you try to remain lucid. He presses play, revealing a playback of the conversation with Rosie, discussing how futile the Hazbin Hotel is. A short fragment, but damning enough to condemn the Radio Demon. Charlie stares, aghast, looking directly at a cornered Alastor. His eyes meet hers, petrified of his own words being used against him. 

Vox swipes, revealing the next snippet of their chat. Alastor and Rosie laughing about how much of a pain it is to have Lucifer around, with him getting in the way of Charlie’s dependence on Alastor.  

Every single face was watching the Radio Demon’s destruction. This was the perfect trap. A massive audience, with no way to escape. Evidence clear as day. 

Charlie spoke, barely above a whisper, “is this real, Alastor? Do you really not care, at all, about the hotel? About us?” 

You watched Alastor, seeing the Radio Demon form shrink. He looked so young. There was no power there, no manipulation. Just fear. Fear that no one and nothing could save him. It came full circle, the same fear birthing a serial killer was what signified his demise. 

He still wasn’t allowed to speak, a firing squad at his neck. 

You were there this time though. 

“You’re lying, Vox” 

Your voice carries, pivoting hundreds of eyes your way. 

“Ex- excuse me? Are you feeling alright, you look a little confused...” Vox appraises you, enraged. 

Your speech is slightly slurred, but clear enough to make out the words. You slice through the velvet on your choker, metaphorically breaking his control. 

“You’re lying. You didn’t make this app. I did. I have been running this mess for so long. You lie and lie and lie, it’s Vox, Vox, Vox, Vee this and Vee that, like you had shit to do with this-” you gesture wildly at the gala, “and you want to lie again, to take out the competition. It won’t work this time Vox. I can prove you’re lying. You’re not in control of the system... thing. I can prove it.” Your head sways as you grimace through the high, feeling nausea and bile rising.  

The Vees are glaring at you furiously, not expecting your outburst. You look at Alastor, still terrified, his eyes pleading for help. 

“Computer... activate... trojan.... keywords: I Love You, Alastor”

 

The room erupted into disarray. Lights fizzed, spasms and bursts of rays distorting the view as sprinklers went haywire. The sound of doors slamming open and shut like guillotines crashed with the rhythm of screeching and jumping speakers. Guests screamed, sheltering from the onslaught of senses. A couple of shots fire towards the ceiling as people panic. You drop to your knees, praying they take this opportunity to run. You’re far too gone to try to get out. You just want to sleep. 

Thick arms grab you, wrenching your body out towards the moonlight. Not arms, tentacles? The tower is in chaos. Still wrapped tightly, you’re facing the Vee’s building, watching the floors flash and burst with sporadic lights like a rave, filled with high pitched screams and glitching music screeching loudly.  

You make a pretty dramatic exit as well as entrance, apparently. 

POV: nursing through the withdrawal 

The news of the sabotaged Vee gala had spread like wildfire across the Pride ring. Rumours about the Vee’s big move being taken apart from the inside lingered in the articles.  

Vaggie and Lucifer were ready, waiting nearby in case of emergency. The spasmodic lighting and musical screeching seemed a pretty good indication that things had just gone wrong. Guests sprinted from the entrance, escaping the pandemonium. Charlie ran out, holding Angel’s arm, followed closely by Husk and Alastor, who had a body hitched over his shoulders, held on by thick black limbs from his back. Lucifer ran forward, meeting them, helping shield them from bullets that began to fly their way. He opened a portal back to the hotel with a blaze of golden light. 

Inside, Alastor lowered you to the lounge sofa. They could see you were fighting the drug-induced cloud, still trying to focus enough to process whether this was real or a hallucination. None of the words you uttered made any sense together.  

Angel explained you had probably overdosed a little, enough to make you lose your grip but not enough to do serious internal damage, hopefully. He said your symptoms would be much worse if it had, especially for a human. 

The group fumbled, disorganised, trying to help in some way, while Angel kept reiterating that coming down from opioids like this wasn’t a quick fix, and that you would be a wreck for the next few days while you wean off the dependency. He gave advice about having a rotational shift to watch over you, like Cherri did for him when he overdosed. He listed the basic self-care needs you wouldn’t be able to manage, like drinking water, eating, bathing, walking to the toilet. You’d need help with everything, to an extent.  

Angel began to organise a roster for watchers when Alaster glowered, stating this was his responsibility and trusted no one else. They could help bring you things if it was needed, but he would ensure you remained safe and stable until you were capable of basic functions.  

“Alastor... what happened at the tower.... I’m so sorry i didn’t see through them. I know they’re full of shit, i really should have challenged them. It just sounded so real, like an actual recording of you talking. I’m sorry, Al.” Charlie came over and hugged him tightly, crying gently as he patted her head, unsure how to respond. Obviously, he HAD said those things. The recording was genuine. It was you who'd lied to save him, to save his bonds with the hotel. After everything you’d suffered, you’d still chosen to lie for his life. He felt sorrow and regret stronger than anything since his Maman was killed. He’d do better this time; he would stay by you until you were healed. No one would harm you while he stood watch. He reiterated this vow as he carried you, still moaning softly from the nausea, to your bedroom. Angel walked around his side, drawing the quilt back from the bed for Alastor to place you in. The last time he was there with you...  

Angel continued to list things to remember. You wouldn’t be able to regulate your temperature properly during the withdrawal, so keep checking the skin and either adding or removing layers. You needed regular bathroom breaks, probably without realising, so every few hours he’d need to walk or carry you to the bathroom. You probably won’t want to eat or drink, but small sips of water through a straw might be manageable. Loose clothing, easy to change in and out of. A lot of the initial sleep period might actually be loss of consciousness, so keep checking pulse and breathing. Keep talking to you when you’re awake, encouraging the mind to fight off the emotional turmoil. It was alarming to everyone how familiar Angel was with this whole scenario.  

The last few hours of the night passed and broke through into a dull grey morning.  

The ambient light began to spread in the room. Your body trembled, first only mild, then became an aggressive shivering and rocking. Pain etched on your face, all you could do was rock while Alastor panicked, trying to soothe you and look for ways to help. The pain was on the inside, burning and contorting. Alastor felt helpless, begging for Angel to think of anything to take the pain away. He couldn’t. He reminded Alastor that this was a recovery process called ‘cold turkey’, severing the dependency at its root. It was going to be fucking agony, and all they could do was help you survive it in the meantime. 

Hour by hour, Alastor made checks. He watched clocks, ensuring you were taken to the bathroom regularly, even if you didn’t need it. He’d leave you in there until listening to your cries through the door got too much.  

He tried to offer water, bringing it to your lips. He wasn’t even sure you were aware of his presence. The violent shivers and convulsions just kept coming until you would pass out again. 

Once, he tried lowering you into a tepid bath to help wash off some of the sweat. He didn’t dare remove your bed gown, too afraid to see more of the marks left across your body. The water, though barely lukewarm, had eased some of the discomfort. Right up until you’d noticed Alastor leaning over you, supporting your head above water. Dissociative from the pain and blindingly terrified, your screams had brought half the hotel running in. In the end, Vaggie and Cherri had to help finish bathing and changing you; anyone male triggered off the same petrified response. 

Intermittently, someone would come to check to see how you were doing, or if Alastor needed anything. He declined offers for his own needs, focusing solely on his ward. 

The next day became slightly easier as loss of consciousness became regular sleep. Alastor sat on the mattress, still observing for signs of deterioration. In all his years, he’d never fought to keep someone alive like this. It felt strange. Human. 

He noticed the pain easing fractionally by that evening. You had accepted water, sipping greedily, much to Alastor’s relief. You still couldn’t tolerate food, however had at least stopped dry heaving and retching up bile. 

In rotation, the Hazbin Hotel staff would periodically bring supplies, initially just for you; until they noticed he hadn’t left the room at all, only drinking water if a glass was left out for him, though he never asked. 

They started bringing him meals and snacks they knew he liked. He initially tried to refuse, then saw the kindness behind it. Even after stabbing them in the back, this little band of misfits cared for him as one of their own. Niffty came in a few times to hug into Alastor’s lap, trying to keep him company. When she started to get talkative he would clear her from the room to stop her disturbing you. 

The third day was the first that you had sat up on your own; such an incredibly small milestone bringing joy to your guardian.  

POV: Embracing the withdrawal 

---------------------- 

“She’s going through withdrawal, you gotta let her body get through it.” 

“She’s in pain! Help her!” 

“I’m sorry, but nothing will fix this but time and care. You gotta just ride it out. I’ve been there. She’ll be ok, just give her time.” 

----------------------- 

“How’s she holding up? 

“Not great, she....” 

-------------------------- 

“Has she had any water?” 

“i keep offering, she keeps pushing it away. She’s in too much pain. Is there nothing we can give?” 

------------------------- 

“Has she slept any more? She looks a little better today. A little less baggy under the eyes. She must be starting to recover, now?” 

“She is. She’s fighting it. You were right, it just takes time.” 

“You need anything? Water, snacks?” 

“No thank you.” 

------------------------ 

You only made out snippets of conversation between waves of agony. Your body twisted and rocked beyond your control, your head caving in on itself. Your stomach heaved, sending your vision into stars and blurs. 

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by. All you could do was count in your head, fighting for sanity to keep from screaming. You would count the seconds going by. Count your breathing. Count the dots in your vision. It would work briefly. Intense waves of pain made it impossible to maintain control. You often felt your throat vibrate as you moaned, clutching your body. Voices seemed so far away. One voice was consistently there though, every time you did manage to focus on it, it was always Alastor answering questions about you to whoever came in to check. You would feel your body lifted and brought to the bathroom; more often than not you were too dehydrated to urinate, but there was always a need to retch. Whether it was dry or bile, the change in position from bed to bathroom brought on another round. 

More senses beyond the pain became easier to tolerate processing. You differentiated the light through cracking your eyelids open, vaguely telling if another night or day had passed. Hunger growled in your belly. You tried to accept a bite of something brought to your lips; not even swallowing yet, the retching began. The first sip of water you managed felt like drinking from an oasis. You wanted to cry with relief, but no tears came. You occasionally noticed your teeth chattering from the shivers, yet you were so overheated. Then, freezing cold, desperately reaching for a blanket that would magically appear on you. 

You started to feel the difference between passing out and falling asleep. Sleep felt softer, slipping away from the cruel battering of your recovery. Each time you awoke was slightly better.  

It was a long journey to being able to control your mind and body. At least a couple of days had passed. Waking to a pounding headache, but a far less suffering body, you sighed in relief. An end was in sight. You eased yourself up onto your arm gradually, pushing at a sloth’s pace into an upright position, leaning on your left arm. Forcing your eyes open, you carefully breathe, keeping nausea and days of hunger at bay. You notice the pointed shoes to your right; you track your eyes upwards, rising to meet his face. “Alastor,” you squeak out, struggling with a parched throat, “you’re still here?” 

He looks absolutely thrilled, genuinely over the moon. You have no idea why. He brings a metal straw in a cup to your lips, leaning over you. Before you were shot, this would have probably excited you. Right now, it sent chills down your spine. You gulp down as much as you can, holding a fist to your mouth to stop the round of nausea that followed. 

He stayed, every day, every hour for the next two days. He barely speaks, only when asked a question by you or a visitor. Anyone who came to see you looked so happy to see you doing better. You must have looked like a fucking wreck then. Superb. 

You realise your mind is working more like normal now, sarcastic thoughts and wandering through memories. Your new normal, anyway. You were concerned with how different it felt being here; it wasn’t the safe, cosy haven you recall. You felt like you had to analyse every interaction, monitor every move, track behaviours. They all seemed so genuine. It must have been a trap. No other logical answer came to mind. 

On what Alastor says was the sixth day, you managed to walk on your own, under his direct supervision, to the kitchen. You had been able to stomach small bites, the sickness fading as you recovered. You might as well have told them you cured cancer for how uncontrollably elated they were seeing you come downstairs like this. 

Growing exhausted, you were picked up without asking, carried to bed by an overprotective demon. 

[stormyblueberry]

About this AU:

This is just a random idea that came to my head, and it all started when Iskall was rejected by Joel. As soon as I caught wind of the love polygon, I just started thinking about a Hermitcraft Rejection Saga, and the first Hermit I thought of, and how they react to rejection, was Iskall as a Yandere.

Now as a character, I’m envisioning them (yes, I’m using they/them for c!Iskall, mainly because cc!Iskall said he doesn’t care what pronouns we give the character) as an obsessive Yandere who chose Jimmy, Joel’s flirty friend, as a rebound just to make Joel jealous, and when that failed, they resorted to murder. Of course, this is all fun and games, and this is a whole saga, not just Iskall, but the other Hermits are up for debate. Everyone is allowed their own opinions, and I can’t control what you do or don’t do with your own headcanons. So feel free to share them as asks or suggestions if you feel comfortable! I’m not forcing you to share if you don’t want to, it’s your choice!

So if you decide that you want to contribute to this AU, I could use all the help I can get coming up with ideas, and if you just want to share headcanons based on this au, that’s totally fine, too!

Also this is my first time using Tumblr so most of this post was me messing with formatting stuff, sorry about that y’all.

This is all up to you! It’s your choice to contribute! If you wish to make a contribution, then go ahead!

EDIT: Oh, also, I have an AO3 that I will be posting this on, I forgot to share it the first time around, so here it is for anyone that wants it!

EDIT 2: Okay, I made a clarification post, as well! I forgot something else here, and needed to add it, but I felt a separate post was easier for some reason.

Edit 3: Okay, this is something that I know got lost with the amount of posts I made and reblogged in the past few weeks, so here's a post I made explaining the current state of the Tumblr and something I still wanna do.

Final Edit: Okay… This is on hold indefinitely, mainly due to everything currently going on with Iskall and Stress resigning from Hermitcraft after some complaints about Iskall were believed to be credible. So sorry but this Tumblr is gonna turn completely random.