#definitely some angst

[dominimoonbeam]

The Truth In Your Skin - 7

The Tattoo AU continues!! David/Darlin, Milo/SH, Asher/Huxley

If you want to read it from the start it’s on ao3.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, scars, reference to past domestic abuse, developing relationships, learning to trust, found family

The Truth In Your Skin - Chapter 7

Sweetheart had been living in his apartment for two weeks. There was no more talk of looking for their own place and Milo was happy about that.

They’d had a whole conversation about how to handle hook ups with a one-bedroom apartment. Sweetheart had said they’d go home with whoever if they were hooking up solo rather than bring them back to his place. Milo knew that made sense, but he didn’t like it. He’d never liked the idea of Sweetheart going home with a stranger, but he couldn’t really say that.

He’d planned to hold his tongue until one of those nights when Sweetheart was looking to leave the bar with someone and then make up some bullshit about going to Asher’s for something and say they could use his place. But that hadn’t happened. Sweetheart and Milo either went home together or they brought someone back together.

Milo had mentioned it to Asher and Ash had laughed and told him they were dating. Milo shot back that Asher didn’t know shit about relationships but Asher had smugly pointed out that even if he didn’t know much about the ocean, he sure as shit knew when he was looking at it.

Milo had been stewing on that the whole day at work.

He and Sweetheart had already fallen into morning routines. They showered together, usually fucked in the shower, and then got ready in that tiny bathroom together. Their things were all over his apartment, intermingling with his, and he loved it. He knew Sweetheart liked it too, because otherwise they wouldn’t do it. He could always trust Sweetheart to be honest like that.

Milo was startled out of his thoughts when Sweetheart jumped into the chair in front of him, the leather squeaking. “Hey! What the fuck you thinking about so hard?” they asked.

They were both between clients, voices and music thrumming from the main room, but the two of them alone. He smiled and rolled his stool up to the chair, his hand sliding up their thigh. “You.”

Sweetheart laughed leaning forward for a quick kiss, their piercings clicking his before they leaned back again, stretching in that chair like they didn’t know where that always sent his thoughts. He remembered every piercing he’d given them, always after hours, dragging it out. Touching, teasing, flirting, long before ever getting to work. “What? Trying to figure out how to get me out of your apartment?”

His hand flexed on their thigh when they came so close to his thoughts and yet so off center.

Sweetheart’s eyes widened a fraction, that lazy, flirty look vanishing. “Oh shit.”

“No,” Milo said, trying to cut them off.

Sweetheart sat forward, if the chair didn’t have a leg rest they probably would have jumped up. “I can get my stuff—”

“No,” Milo laughed, shaking his head and squeezing their thigh again, this time to remind them that they were not going to get out of this chair and make a run for it. They’d probably dash back to the apartment and start untangling their life from his. The idea made him sick. “No. That’s not what I was thinking at all!”

“You promised to tell me, you dick!” Sweetheart swatted his arm. “You said if I was overstepping or staying too long—”

“You’re not! I love having you at my place. You know that.” He laughed, leaning closer, his chest almost touching theirs. “How can you not know that?” He slid his hand over their thigh, between them and higher until he was rubbing against them and they were dragging in a deep breath. “After this morning?” he spoke lowly, just between them, under the umbrella of sounds in the other room. “After I fucked you into the shower wall and we probably woke up the whole building?”

Sweetheart twitched, one hand on his shoulder and hips rocking against his hand. “M-Milo… Seriously… You have to tell me—”

“I want you,” he said, hoping they heard all the certainty in his voice. “I want you in my life and my home and my bed. I want you in my shower and in your car and sometimes in the bathroom at the bar…”

Sweetheart groaned. “Do…Do you want to pretend we’re going to go get lunch?”

Milo grinned, brushing his mouth against theirs. “Where are we really going?”

Sweetheart kissed him hard and then shoved him back, jumping out of the chair. “We’re going around back and you’re going to use that mouth to get me off in the car. If you’re really fucking good, I’ll repay the favor…”

Milo groaned. Yes, life with Sweetheart was good and he honestly hoped they’d never move out.

 -

 “Just invite him,” David growled.

Asher whined, taking ages to clean up his station.

David was almost done with the piece he was doing on this guy’s shoulder. If he wasn’t working, he probably would have stormed out by now. Asher had retold the grand story of how he ran into Huxley last week and they hung out at some café until dawn at least four times today. David had, of course, already heard the story when he came home that morning and several times since.

Asher was in agony over whether or not to invite Huxley to the get together at the apartment tonight. Was it too soon? Was he supposed to wait for Hux to make a move? David had turned the music up to drown out his best friend but it hadn’t worked.

At least Darlin had laughed.

They seemed to think this was hilarious.

Everyone Asher had told his story to had agreed that he should invite Huxley. Finally, when he was done cleaning up and it was almost too late to fucking ask, Asher sent off a text. David thought his friend had waited that long to create the possibility that the other man couldn’t go because of some very valid, not at all because he doesn’t like Asher, reason. Like it being too fucking short notice!

“There. I sent it!” Asher declared and then slammed his phone down on his station like it had attacked him. He spun in his chair, anguishing.

Darlin watched, smiling.

David focused on his work, but didn’t miss the way Milo and Sweetheart ran off to go get lunch like their lives depended on a sandwich. Like they didn’t all know what they were up to.

David didn’t mean to catch Darlin’s eye, but he did, and to his surprise they shared a knowing smirk about Sweetheart and Milo.

Asher’s phone chimed and vibrated, somehow louder than the music.

Asher almost screamed. He rolled his chair up to his station to look at the phone without touching it, like it might bite.

David focused on the last touches to this tattoo and asked his client how he was doing.

“He’s coming!” Asher shot up from his chair.

Darlin laughed. “You really thought he wouldn’t?”

Asher spun around to look at them. “I mean, he could have been busy!”

Darlin raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Asher was the only one who didn’t see the obvious appeal of Asher. He didn’t have any trouble flirting and jokingly gloating about his own beauty, but David knew he didn’t believe any of it. And maybe that was the real reason he hadn’t really thrown a fit about Asher telling the same damn story over and over again, because this was the first time he’d ever seen him this bent out of shape over someone.

And it didn’t escape David’s notice that Asher and Huxley hadn’t hooked up—that in that first telling of the story when he got home that morning, Asher had been floored by the moment Huxley asked him to go get midnight pancakes rather than a quick fuck. He’d left that out of all the other retellings, either he’d realized what he was saying about himself and his feelings, or he’d only ever meant to tell David about it from the start.

David finished with his client. His schedule was packed today and he had the next one already waiting on the sofa in the front room.

“Do you want me to grab you lunch?” Darlin asked, throwing on their jacket. They smirked. “Actual lunch though, not whatever Milo is up to…”

David laughed, cleaning up his station. “Yeah, do you mind?”

Darlin shook their head. “I’ve got an hour until my next client. I’ll grab a bag of tacos and leave it in the break room.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

Darlin snorted.

“Are you coming over tonight?” he asked before they were out the door.

Darlin paused, seeming to decide on the spot. They shrugged. “Yeah.”

He nodded and they left.

David felt Asher staring at him and when he looked up, sure as shit there he was grinning big. “What did Huxley say?” David asked, his friend still clutching his phone in both hands.

Asher jumped a little at the question, thoughts refocused. He hurried over to show David his screen.

Emojis.

Dorks.

 -

 Asher headed up to the apartment first that night. David still had a client in his chair and would be late, which meant Asher got to order the food.

Darlin followed him up and Gavin was waiting at the apartment door, on his phone and grinning.

He let them both in. Gavin didn’t take his eyes off his phone, walking to the counter and perching on a stool. “Can I invite a new friend?” he asked while texting someone.

Asher laughed, opening the fridge to pull out a few beers and pass them around. “Yeah. Of course. I think most of our friends came from you…”

“All the good ones,” Gavin said and then took his eyes off his phone to regard Darlin. He smiled. “With a few exceptions.”

Darlin shrugged. “I’m not good,” they assured.

Gavin’s smile grew. “That’s what makes you good.”

Asher opened the high cupboard and started pulling down the liquor bottles and sleeves of plastic cups and shot glasses. He liked the way their friends got along.

“Did you invite the big guy?” Gavin asked, putting his phone down and his chin in his palm.

Darlin nursed a beer and let Asher answer with a shrug.

“Ash…Do not tell me you chickened out again.”

“I didn’t! I asked! He might show up.”

Darlin snorted. “Might… He said he was coming.”

“I bet he’s coming… Coming all over that big hand thinking about—”

“Holy shit, Gav!” Asher shoved his shoulder. Gavin rocked to the side and accidentally into Darlin’s beer, bouncing it and splashing the front of their t-shirt which had the misfortune of being mostly white.

“Oh shit,” Asher rounded Gavin to grab a kitchen towel.

“It’s fine,” Darlin said.

“Sorry,” Gavin said. “Do you want to trade shirts?”

Darlin snorted at the tight, mesh top Gavin was wearing. “I don’t think yours would fit me.”

“I think it would fit you great…”

“I might as well just not wear a shirt.”

Gavin grinned. “That’s an option.”

Darlin put their beer down. “No, it’s not.”

Sweetheart, Milo, and their friend Lasko walked into the apartment, mid-conversation.

Asher tried to help with the shirt, but it had a big splotch of beer down the front. He could almost see the shape of the dark tattoo underneath. A letter?

Darlin took a step back. “I’ll go change and be back later.”

Asher caught their wrist before they could bolt. If they left, they might not come back. He would have absolutely fucked this night up for David and Darlin—or whatever chance there was of David and Darlin. “Wait. Just use one of mine.”

“Asher!” Milo called from the living room. “Did you order food yet? We’re dying.”

“I thought you had a big lunch?” Asher snapped back, smiling but not letting go of Darlin’s wrist. He looked at them again. “Seriously. My room’s right down the hall. Just take any shirt you want.”

Darlin hesitated before relaxing a fraction and nodding.

Asher beamed. Fuck yes! He had saved the day! He was on a damn roll. He let go of Darlin and pulled his phone out. “Okay, pizza from that place with the really cute delivery guy and this time we’re going to get him to stay. I can just feel it!”

 -

 David locked up the shop and went around to the front of the apartments. He wasn’t surprised to see Huxley there, a little confused since he’d never been to their place before. David greeted him and showed him up. He was nice, really nice, in a way that he couldn’t help but like for his best friend.

Their apartment was already in full swing when David led the way in. Music was playing and multiple conversations were competing with one another, but he didn’t miss the moon eyes Asher and Huxley shot each other before he headed down the hall to his room to change.

He pushed the door open and jerked to a stop, half in the light of the hallway and half in the shadow of his bedroom.

Darlin was there, one of his t-shirts in their hands and their own on the floor at their feet.

They both froze, staring at one another.

Even in the blue dimness of the room, he could see the flow of those watercolor tattoos stroking down one side of their body before his gaze snagged on the rough black lines of a tattoo that seemed to be carved rather than inked into the side of their abdomen.

His hand tightened on the doorknob.

It was…violent. It looked painful even though it was healed. Had the needle left scars? Was there any chance in hell that they’d picked that tattoo? That it had been a part of their plan? No.

He jerked his gaze away, snapping his head forward and almost pressing his temple to the door. He thought about walking out, closing the door, and pretending he hadn’t seen it. He could stop looking, but he couldn’t forget what he’d seen.

He hesitated, caught in limbo between the sound and joy of the party down the hall and the shadows in that quiet bedroom. “Can I come in?” David asked, voice hard in his throat.

Darlin didn’t pull on the shirt they were holding. They just stood there, their breathing a little fast but other than that, giving nothing away. “Yeah. Okay.”

David stepped into his own room and closed the door. He flicked on the lights and took off his jacket, tossing it on his bed, just like he might have if they weren’t there.

“I’m sorry. I thought this was Asher’s room. He said I could grab a shirt…” They looked at the one in their hands, hesitating over it now that they’d realized it wasn’t Asher’s and hadn’t been offered.

“That’s okay. Take it,” he said, taking steps closer.

They didn’t pull the shirt on, but they didn’t put it back either.

“This is what you wanted covered?” David asked, but he didn’t look. He kept his eyes on their face. He wouldn’t look again until they said that he could.

Darlin exhaled and it almost sounded like relief. He supposed he understood. They wouldn’t have to show it to him now. It was already done. “Yeah.”

“Can I take a look, or would you rather do that at the shop sometime?”

Darlin smiled a little, it was thin but lighter than he’d seen before. “You can look at it. It’s… Well, it is what it is.”

David tipped his head to the side and slid his gaze down. The lines were rough and rushed. They had definitely left scars in some places where the needle had stabbed deep. He almost asked when they got it but that wasn’t the right question because Darlin didn’t go into some shop and get this shit put on their body. Someone had done this.

They were still holding onto his shirt, the fabric twisted in their fingers as if restraining their hands from trying to hide the tattoo. They shifted, turning slowly so that he could see all of it. David clenched his teeth to keep from making a sound. Two words, not one, folding from their front to their back on that side of their torso. They would never have been able to cover it themselves, no matter how good they might be.

The words alone should have been okay, maybe even romantic, but there was no missing the message in the strokes of the ink.

ALWAYS MINE

He couldn’t read those words on their skin, carved in anger, without thinking of the scar on their lip and the one on their temple. It took everything he had to keep his breathing even and not ball his hands into fists.

Everything else he had seen on their body had been done by their own hand. It was all cohesive, one tattoo touching the next, evolving. They had had a plan, which only made this violation worse. David couldn’t help imagining that the guy knew it too. Had Darlin been unconscious when he did it? Was it after the attack that had led to all those scars?

They shuddered out a breath, still looking only at the shirt twisted in their hands. “So, yeah, maybe a big black rectangle? Just cover the whole fucking thing, you know?”

He could hear the tears in their eyes even when they choked them back—maybe because they choked them back, because they were forcing that light who-gives-a-fuck tone. “Darlin…” David said, still standing so close that he could have whispered and been heard, but he spoke clearly because they needed to hear this. “You didn’t ask me to do it because you wanted a rectangle. You make art. You are art. And someone fucked up your canvas. Let me help you put it right again.”

Darlin’s chin snapped up and their eyes were on him, swimming with tears and something so breathlessly fragile that he knew it had surprised them to find it still there. It was like coming home after a tornado took the whole house and finding one perfectly untouched glass sitting in the rubble.

“Do you want to talk about it?” David asked.

“No,” they answered fast, a flash of fear in their eyes.

“Do you want a hug?” he asked.

Darlin sighed, naked shoulders slumping in defeat and a tear sliding down their cheek. “Yeah.”

It was the quietest yeah ever, but David heard it. He wrapped his arms around them, his palms on bare skin, and pulled them into him. They leaned in and exhaled hard when their face was against his shoulder. “Fuck…”

He smiled a little at that single all-encompassing word.

They stood like that for a long time, his fingers tracing up and down their back and some of their tears soaking into his shirt. When they finally pulled back, they dragged a deep breath and scrubbed the back of their hand over their face.

“Can I touch it?” David asked, wanting to get an idea of the scars, ideas for the cover up already rolling in his head.

Darlin snorted, somehow easier with him now than they’d ever been before. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad. If you don’t want to work on it I’ll under—”

“No. I’ll fix this,” he said, certain.

Darlin shuddered out another breath on a wobbly smile and shrugged. “Go ahead.”

He ran his hand over their side. He wouldn’t trace the words—wasn’t even willing to see them as words anymore. They were just lines, a mess of lines that had no right to be there. Darlin held their breath until his hand had passed from the tattoo. “I’ll come up with some sketches. If you want to keep this private, we can talk about it after hours instead of when everyone is around.”

Darlin blushed, shaking their head and pulling his shirt on. It was too big for them, but it looked good. Or maybe he thought it looked good because it was his… “We can talk about it whenever. It’s…It’s not really a secret or, I guess it is? Just not something I meant to make a secret, if that makes sense?”

David nodded. “Sure. Not exactly something you want to talk about.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you wanted to talk about it…”

“Yeah,” Darlin said quickly. “We should probably go before someone thinks we’re fucking around…”

David shrugged, changing his shirt and feeling them sneaking glances at him. He took his time. “I mean, you are wearing my shirt. As soon as Gavin notices that, it’s bound to come up.”

“Is Gavin really going to recognize your shirt?”

David smirked but led the way back out into the hall.

The party was busy trying to talk the pizza delivery guy into staying. They’d lured him a few steps into the apartment. Asher was hellbent on making friends with this guy and Milo and Sweetheart were hellbent on something else entirely. Gavin spent a full ten minutes being gobsmacked when he realized the guy’s name was actually Guy.

And then he noticed Darlin was wearing David’s shirt and his eyes nearly bugged out of his beautiful face.

[sweeneydino]

Father and Son.

Happy ending

[bluegekk0]

(03.03.24) the info here is a bit outdated, both hornet and hollow got new designs for the au, and grimmchild is no longer included (UP TO DATE DESIGNS), so i recommend checking out my feral pk au tag if you’re interested

some hornets + post ‘embrace the void’ au stuff

i like to think hollow has tons of affection to give after having to bottle it all up and being sealed away for years, and it just so happens that a grumpy, vaguely sibling-shaped bug can be found in dirtmouth. obviously said bug will never admit they want to be loved and would rather stab you in the eye, but that won’t stop hollow from adopting them like it’s a stray kitten

hornet is definitely not a fan of the idea, but it’s not like she can really do anything about it. also grimmchild is there, since ghost is no longer around

[berrybanana-arts]

“It was not your fault that he betrayed you.

Even if there were signs, even if you think you should’ve ‘known better’, none of that gave him the right to hurt you as he did.

I don’t blame my great nephew for trusting Bill who he knew was an enemy… Nor my great niece who trusted Bill when he disguised himself as an old friend. So of course I can’t unfairly blame you.

You are not to blame for his choices. He chose to be cruel to you. It was not your fault.

It will get worse before it gets better but I promise you- you’ll come out the other side and be so much happier for it. In thirty years, I know you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been in your whole life.

You trust no one, I know, but- trust me. Stick it out. It’s going to be okay in the end.”

Ford’s past self needs a hug and Ford needs to forgive himself for his past mistakes and move on. Little bit more hurt/comfort for Forduary!

[princessasmosprincess]

My interpretation of Nightbringer so far:

MC went missing and the brothers noticed and freaked out about it (obviously, their favorite person disappeared without a trace) and they made Solomon go after them.

Then at the end of lesson 40, once the time rift was open, MC and Solomon went back to the exact time that MC disappeared, that's why the brothers only feel like it's been a long time since they've seen MC but in their reality it's only been a few minutes to them. They hadn't experienced the loss of MC since time was rewritten but maybe they felt something in their pacts, like loss, before MC entered the library.

[just-a-repa]

This was their dynamic, me thinks

There is a lack of Dooku and Qui-Gon content, so I'll take it upon myself to try to fill that emptiness a lil bit

[mayashesfly]

A follow up/expansion on the Robot replaces Dead Vox scenario au

For simplicity's sake I'll refer to Vox's robot replacement as the Proxy. And any possible future posts about this au will be tagged under "The Proxy AU"

(Do take note that some of these things may be subject to change as I expand on this au in time)

Thank you @theautotrophic for your questions! ^w^

Vox made the Proxy at first after his fallout with Alastor as a way to let out his self loathing. So Alastor didn't know about it.

The Proxy is almost direct reconstruction of his body but improved to better at handling overheating amongst other things while also having the chest area be more… masculine. (If you headcanon Vox as Trans ontop of my headcanon that he can't exactly have permanent top surgery because sinner regeneration is a bitch)

The biggest difference between Vox and the Proxy is that the Proxy doesn't have alot of shark-like qualities unlike Vox since Vox was still terrified of sharks when he made the Proxy.

So the Proxy doesn't have any dorsal like fins and his tail is a retractable cord tail instead of a retractable shark tail. But it still does have the gills as its vents.

There's also details on his backside specifically that he couldn't replicate because well… It's not like he can see his back.

The Proxy was meant to be Vox's attempt to upgrade his body as a way to cope with his fallout with Alastor. After all, if he can upgrade his head, why can't he upgrade his body?

Unfortunately, he couldn't actually replace his body with the Proxy. And the idea of completely getting rid of it didn't sit right with him since he wasted alot of materials and time into making it.

It'll be a waste to scrap it but it's not like he could admit that he made the Proxy in a state of weakness to his only business partner friend left.

After some time of calming down, he realized that he could use the Proxy as a back up plan if things go south with him.

At this point, he still didn't know he could transfer parts of his memories into flashdrives to download them somewhere else. But he reasoned that he could theoretically make a head for the Proxy and program it to act like him.

So knowing that there's a chance Valentino would see the Proxy because you can't exactly hide a life-sized "improved" replica of your body, he told Valentino that the Proxy could be a backup plan for him if things go south before Valentino could find out about it through other means.

At the time, Valentino was utterly confused and pretty disturbed at the information.

But it was something they never really brought up again since they both wanted to forget it.

Velvette didn't actually know about the Proxy until it happened.

After his close fight with Alastor wherein Valentino intervened before Alastor disappeared, his thoughts went back to the Proxy as he realized that he could actually die.

His media empire with Valentino and Velvette was already growing and if anything happened to him, the technological and broadcasting aspect of their business would fall over without him acting as the head.

And their reputation would take a hit if Valentino and Velvette was forced to rebrand Voxtek in the case of his death. Especially if their competitors sees his death as something that'll weaken the Vees.

He couldn't bare letting the Vees go without an actual backup plan in case something happened to him.

So while he and Valentino healed from the battle with Alastor, he took some time upgrading the Proxy to be up to date and actually modifying and programming it so that it could actually act like him in case something happened.

He didn't bother making the Proxy a head of its own since he knew he always upgraded his head and it would just be a waste of time.

But he did set up a machine that can automatically give the Proxy a head after the head that'll be installed has the proper programming and necessary memories installed inside.

The Proxy doesn't actually have any personality of its own unlike Kitty wherein Vox put in the extra effort to give it some personality thay he knows Valentino would like since it was a gift for him (just like how Vark was a gift for Vox from Val which helped him embraced his shark-like qualities)

The Proxy is programmed to handle broadcasting, interviews, and public meetings. Pretty much every public appearance Vox had to make.

The memories downloaded into the Proxy mostly isn't personal at all, and they mostly only pertain to the business and important aspects of their business. (So it doesn't have any personal memories of Alastor)

Though there are also programmed codes and memories on how to handle Valentino and Velvette to make sure they don't fly off the handle based on Vox's previous interactions. With more emphasis on how to specifically handle a Valentino who's having a fit just in case.

Though when the two of them goes against the programmed interaction the Proxy has on them, then it has some difficulty.

After all, it wasn't like it has anything to work off on on how to handle a grieving Valentino and Velvette.

It takes alot of energy from the Proxy to handle its daily public appearances. And it's unable to do surveillance unlike Vox as any attempts to do so would overload its systems and it'll just crash.

When its not on "public appearance" mode, the Proxy is on a "low power savings" mode around the Vees as it tries to keep up the appearance of a businessman for the other employees. Though it visibly buffers and pauses at times, causing its face to disappear.

Sometimes Valentino and Velvette would manually power it off to be hidden somewhere out of plain sight.

It's a miracle if they could remember to plug it in through its tail cord or its actual charger or another charger so it could recharge.

Something that Vox's assistant has to keep up on consistently unless he wants to reschedule the entire day so that the people who are none the wiser won't be confused or upset that Vox had to reschedule their meetings and other public appearances. (Poor Eelliot)

As for Vox's death well… I'll keep that to your imaginations for now :D

But I will say that one of the reasons Alastor knows Vox is dead is because of how their shared frequency went completely silent.

Meanwhile, the Vees have a contract to ensure that everything the deceased Vee has under their possession would be transferred to the other Vees in the event of their death so that they won't lose any power, souls, properties, and ect that the other Overlords and Kingpins could steal.

Even when Valentino and Velvette didn't know where Vox was or how he died, the both of them physically felt Vox's powers and possessions going to them after he died, confirming his death.

Valentino quickly went to Vox's surveillance and control room to desperately search for him while there was an Extermination going on outside.

It took everything from Velvette to convince him not to go outside when he could also be killed and then Vox would be fucking upset with them.

(Neither of them said a word that there was no more Vox to be upset with them ever again)

When they finally located his body, they quickly collected him discreetly so that noone else would know that the Vees lost its eldest member.

Neither of them said a word as they hugged the cold, lifeless corpse.

A stark contrast to the warmth Vox constantly radiated despite his calm and collected persona.

It took some time for Valentino to finally put Proxy to use.

Some of Vox's shows having a few reruns while he gathers the courage to face the machine.

He had half the mind to completely destroy it beyond repair.

To tear everything down to pieces after he had lost his longest business partner.

But Kitty and Proxy was the only things left that Vox made with his two very own hands.

To have them repaired by someone else other than Vox…..

Well, while Vox may still be the same despite how much he changed…

The same could not be said about the robots he made.

It wouldn't be the same.

When metal and wires could easily be replaced but the soul cannot.

It wouldn't be the same.

Still, he couldn't stop himself as he shattered the screen that showcased it buffering instead of the exasperated but still fond sneer he had gotten used to.

Velvette was absolutely devastated and livid when she found out about Vox's replacement.

She screamed at Valentino, asking him what the fuck he was even thinking and HOW THE FUCK DID HE EVEN ACQUIRE SUCH A THING

Vox never told her about the Proxy and while Velvette could care less about the roofies she makes and the Fizzibot Val has and every worse thing she's done under existence, she couldn't fathom replacing Vox with a mere husk of a pathetic disgusting thing.

She only stopped her shouting when Valentino quietly said it was Vox's idea.

And they both promised that they'll kill whoever decided to hurt the Vees and avenge Vox.

For now it was something both of them could focus on, even if it was a lie.

Valentino will hunt them down no matter what other people may say.

When Alastor saw Vox alive and well after the dead silence in their shared frequency, he first thought it must be a bad dream.

But he knows it was real.

That it happened.

After the confusing feelings he felt upon seeing that familiar face alive and well passed by, anger gripped his soul.

He had half the mind to ruin and destroy that pretender.

Vox was well and truly gone and it'll stay that way if Alastor could help it.

But when he realized what truly happened, he could only laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh at the situation.

And when he calmed down, he deigned to not interact even further at what happened.

Except for mocking the remaining Vees at what had happened to make himself feel better.

[lucasoliko]

Why didn't they just kiss and talk things out? Are they stupid??

[solargeist]

The Watchers in my AU are meant to be complicated and confusing. It’s part of why Grian stays for so long, why he’s so conflicted and why it bothers him to the point of venting to Mumbo.

They can be very kind, they do love him, they compliment him on everything. He gets gifts and everything given to him.

But on the other hand, bc they love him, they can be critical, telling him why that and why this, not that not this, they have pretty high standards for Beings that have seen everything already, not easy to genuinely impress.

They give him food, as parental figures should, anything he asks, but that’s sorta the problem, he always has to ask, there’s no way around this, no independence. He can ask for ingredients to cook by himself, but they’ll watch him.

He’s given clothes to wear, always within Watcher standard, dark and loose garments, open for his wings. He’d honestly prefer brighter colours, but that’s not rly a choice.

They tell him he’s special, he was chosen, better than the rest, a champion, a hero, and while it pets his ego, he feels pressure, they went out on a limp for him and he still can’t do enough. There is so much guilt.

Being here in the end messes with his psyche a bit, he’s much shorter than everyone, he has to rely on everyone, they all treat him like a kid, petting his hair or moving him via his shoulders instead of asking. He accidentally leans into this sometimes as a subconscious coping mechanism, he cries easier than he thinks he should. Tantrums where he has to press his face into his hands, or grumble and stomp off. He always has to apologize.

Despite being treated like a child, he is a Watcher child, so he studies a lot, he trains a lot. If he throws up from training, that’s no excuse (well by Flora’s standards)

He does feel a sort of comfort or safety around Aether, She’s lenient with him, but they’re definitely still not equals. She still hides things from him She thinks is too serious, She’s still overtly positive. He thinks abt Her sometimes, in hindsight he knows it was a family dynamic, and he feels guilt abt this too.

The Watchers love him, but they are ultimately overbearing, overwhelming, and frankly quite scary if you don’t play by their rules. Grian has reason to be cautious, the silent threats that hang over his head, never directly said to him, but traitors are cast out, if you’re not worthy you don’t deserve these gifts of wings or eyes. I think he’s convinced if they ever find him they’ll rip his eyes out with talons.

He won’t admit that he likes the attention sometimes, when his efforts are acknowledged and/or praised, when his hair is brushed. He wants their approval.

However, this is the only ‘human’ contact he gets. He doesn’t have anyone else, so it’s taken with a grain of salt how genuine his feelings are abt the attention.

[crispys-records]

laurence will always be left behind.

garroth will follow aphmau and their friends to the end of the earth, having adventure after adventure, all in the hopes of supporting aphmau and the man she fell in love with, and come back and laurence is waiting for him, as if he never left that house. garroth will ask laurence where he's been, and laurence shrugs it off, saying he had to take care of the house. status quo restored, there'll be peace until garroth leaves again, and laurence doesn't leave with him.

garroth can't remember the last time he had been home. is laurence there? will he be waiting? or will he be gone, having finally gotten sick of waiting on an empty street for a best friend who hasn't thought of him during the most stressful moments, with not even a letter or a call.

but laurence is there when he opens the door. hes still there, resting on the couch, smiling when garroth comes home. and garroth doesn't believe it. he looks around, searches desperately for signs of life in the house hes been missing from for months. laurence hasn't even said a word about garroth's new ears and tail, only asking what hes looking for. and garroth doesnt reply, only running to his room and shutting the door. because laurence had gone missing months ago. because garroth had come back from love~love paradise, only to find laurence gone, without a note. all of his things left behind. laurence had vanished, and he couldn't even bring himself to call the police, not when he hadn't even thought of laurence in the months hed been gone.

there was no status quo. there was no peace. not when his house was empty. not when people had asked when laurence was going to come and hang out, and garroth couldn't bring himself to tell people that laurence was gone. he would make up some lie, like he was too tired from work lately, that he didn't want to go anywhere. people stop asking. and as the months go by, and a new status quo settles in, no one says anything about laurence. and life happens, and days go by. until garroth is the only one who remembers him.

until garroth is the one left behind by laurence.

[trebuchet151]

This is jumping the queue bc some really cool people reblogged my last post of Corey and they escaped containment.

Updated sidestep design perpetual WIP

Sidestep days vs retribution. They're slowly reacquiring their self expression. Next book will probably be the full return of the scene/punk look

Bonus Corey sans most of their clothing to show off their tattoos under the cut. CW for healed SH scars

Yes that is Ortega's bedroom yes I half assed it. I drew this background in my car at work when it was like 110 degrees idgaf

[bubbiethesaur]

LRA doodles

(Woe, silly doodles be upon ye)

One of my goals this year is to improve my art skills, so I’ve been trying to practice every day. And what better way to practice than to do silly LRA doodles?

[logan-lieutenant]

shoutout to @escapentropy for this post and the brainrot rpf spiral i went into immediately after <3

anyway here is the fic about logan’s appearance on an instagram story and how alex may or may not have felt about it

The spaces between the stars

George knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the story.

For one thing, it was two in the morning. Not an abysmal time for anyone to be on social media, just abysmal for Alex. George still thinks it’s hilarious that Alex has screen time limits on his phone like an internet-addicted teenager, but he’s listened to enough lectures about the detriments of blue light and sleep cycles to bring it up anymore. And anyway, it’s not like Alex is any more responsive during the day. Over a decade into their friendship, and Alex is one of the worst texters George has ever met. If Alex isn’t texting back at 2 am, he definitely isn’t engaging in the cesspool of the internet. That had been a red flag in and of itself.

The story itself had been an even bigger hint: camera pointed straight up, showing a slightly blurry close-up of the night sky. If it was a constellation, George hadn’t known it; there was no tag, no caption, nothing. There also hadn’t been a hint of a horizon line or any indication of where the picture had been taken, but George hadn’t needed one.

He calls Alex a few minutes after he’d gotten the notification, and of course Alex picks up immediately.

“Get off the roof,” George says in lieu of a greeting.

Alex doesn’t say anything for a bit, leaving an awkward, staticky murmur on the other end of the line. Finally, he protests sheepishly, “I’m not on the roof.”

“You are,” George insists. “Don’t fuck with me. You’re at that little deck with the telescope and plants that no one’s watered in a month, and you’re not supposed to be there.”

Alex makes a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “Would you believe me if I told you I finally paid for roof access?”

“No.”

Alex laughs again, but his voice sounded jagged and painful, rough around the edges.

“Come on,” George prompts. “You hate breaking rules. You only go up there when you’re stressed about something.”

“That’s…” Alex tries to begin, then trails off.

“Did you only post that star story cause you knew I would see it?”

The silence is enough of an answer.

George sighs. “Get off the roof. I’m coming over.”

“Really?” Alex’s voice is timid, almost a whisper. He sounds weak, like all the wind has been knocked out of him and he hasn’t had time to recover.

It hurts George just to listen to. “Yes, really. Someone needs to make sure you don’t engage in more criminal activity.”

“Fine, I’ll get off the roof!”

When Alex opens the door, he looks exactly how he’d sounded on the phone.

“Mate, you look terrible,” George informs him.

Alex rolls his eyes, then steps aside to let George in. “Thanks. Your commentary is always appreciated.”

George ignores the back talk. “Have you slept at all?”

Alex knots his fingers in his hair and pulls distractedly. He shrugs his shoulders, looking like he’s trying to curl into himself. “It’s not that late.”

“It’s late for you.” George steps forward and takes Alex by the shoulders, forcing him to stay still. “Alex.”

Alex struggles to meet his gaze. There are shadows under his eyes. Even under George’s hands he’s trying to fidget, shifting his weight, hands twitching at his sides.

“I didn’t come here to listen to you lie to me. You basically sent up the bat signal.”

That gets a laugh, Alex playfully trying to shrug George away. “Right. I forgot. You’re the British Batman. Who gets summoned by… stars.”

“You’re making me sound so poetic.” George claps him on the shoulder and pushes him gently in the general direction of the couch. “Sit down. I’m making us tea, and then you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Is that an order?”

George looks over his shoulder at Alex’s smirk. “You know what? For old time’s sake, yes.” He finds a small stuffed cat toy on the counter and throws it at him.

When George brings in the tea, Alex is already surrounded by cats.

George laughs at the sight, Alex leaned back into the couch with two cats fighting for space on his lap and another draped lazily in some anatomically incorrect position over the armrest. “They gonna make room for me?” he asks, holding out one of the mugs.

Alex sits up straighter to take it, and one of the cats flicks its ears haughtily and strolls across the room.

“Your presence offends her,” Alex explains. “So yes.”

“I’m heartbroken.” A friendlier cat nuzzles George’s hand; he scratches it behind the ears. “You gonna tell me why you went up there?”

Alex looks away from him, slowly chewing his lower lip. He stares at the wall as if the picturue frames will tell him what to say. George waits patiently.

“Well, I should definitely stop,” Alex says at last, trying to laugh at himself. It falls flat quickly and he gives up. “I got in trouble for it, once, a few years ago. I think it belongs to only the top floor, not the whole building…” He boops one cat on the tip of the nose and it wrinkles up its face, swiping a paw over its eyes. He smiles at it. “Anyway, it’s one of the highest places in Monaco. You can see the stars better there than anywhere else– that I’ve found, at least… I don’t know, it just, it feels really peaceful up there. It helps me think clearly.”

George knows he’s not being given the whole story; Alex knows it too. George sips at his tea and says nothing. Alex doesn’t like silence; the longer George stays quiet, the more Alex will say just to fill the void. It’s not a very nice tactic, but letting Alex deflect and ramble and run away from his feelings isn’t helpful either.

Alex drinks his tea, pulling his sleeves over his hands and holding the mug close to his chest. “And I’ve got good memories, too… not like, that roof in particular– just, stars in general, I guess. That sounds stupid. Everyone has–”

“What’s the memory?” George asks softly.

Alex looks over at him then. He doesn’t say it out loud, but the gratitude is plain on his face, the shine in his eyes. Then he casts his eyes back down to the cats. “Last Christmas,” he begins “they did this video thing with me and Logan, just a bunch of questions, you know…” He waves a hand vaguely. “This interview thing. It was so silly, I don’t even remember a whole lot of it. But the thing way, the setup they chose was like this tiny inn in the middle of nowhere– I mean nowhere. And by the time we were done shooting it was night, because of course it was, and I remember we stepped out and there were just so many stars.”

Alex tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling, like if he reaches far enough into the memory he can bring the stars back with him. He takes a deep breath. “Y’know. Because there was less light pollution…”

“Yeah, so much gets washed out in the city,” George offers.

Alex nods. “Exactly. And I’ve been in like, less bright areas before, it had just been a while since I’d been able to see that many. And I remember I looked over at Logan cause I was gonna say something, like ‘Holy shit, it looks like we’re in space’… and he was just.” Alex stops, swallows heavily. He looks back into his tea, breathes out, watches the surface ripple. Then he leans over and places the tea, barely touched, on a side table. He rubs at his eyes and tries to pass it off as scratching an itch; George doesn’t call him out.

“He was just looking up at the sky,” Alex continues, voice softening with nostalgia, “and… and there was this expression on his face like I’d never seen before. He just looked so, like… fascinated. Enchanted.” He laughs a little, eyes far-away, and tucks his feet under him. One of his cats meows frustratedly at the change of position before settling down again. “I mean, he looked like a little kid. Like he’d never seen a night sky before, just smiling up at it… And I think I probably teased him in the moment. ‘Do they not have stars in America’, or… something.”

George feels a cat pawing at his shins and sits back. The cat jumps into his lap and turns to stare attentively at Alex. Even the animals are drawn in by the story, the way the emotions in Alex’s voice have started to fill the room like morning fog.

“But I kind of wish I hadn’t,” Alex adds, shuddering, “because I thought back after and I realized I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him that happy.” His hand, in the middle of stroking a cat, falls limply to his side. “Relaxed. Not for the cameras, not playing anything off. There was just this moment where he was genuinely just happy about something. And I didn’t figure this out until later, but… I think it hit me so hard because I realized I hadn’t thought I was ever gonna see him like that again. Like, the season had been so tough for us, and especially toward the end it was really dragging him down, and I just sort of expected that. The way he used to look at everything like, no light in his eyes. Gone.”

George says quietly, “He never looked at you like that.”

Alex shoots his gaze over, focus sharpening to a razor-point. “Don’t,” he chokes out in a wavering, inflamed voice. “I’ve told you. You can’t make me… think like that.”

George puts down his tea so he can shift closer to Alex. “Mate, I’m just saying the facts. We’re in the same paddock. I know you know him better, but the rest of us aren’t blind. This season, when you two are together… he looks at you like–”

Alex puts his hand up.

George sits back, spreading his palms. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Too far?”

“Sorry.” Alex sniffles, then tries to hide it with a cough. “It’s just–” He nudges a cat off his lap so he can pull his phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through a couple photos until he pauses on a screenshot, then reaches out and shows it to George. “Have you seen this?”

George looks at the picture. “Not the original. I’ve seen it reposted, though.”

It’s the last thing Logan’s posted on his story, shared from someone named Zack Justice (George doesn’t know if he’s supposed to recognize that name) and it’s a picture of Logan. Playing golf.

The sun is shining. The sky is a perfect, picturesque blue. The green stretches on to the horizon, unbroken color that contrasts elegantly with the sky above. The horizon line is right at the halfway point of the image. It couldn’t be more aesthetic.

Logan isn’t too close to the camera, but he’s still recognizable. He’s also not wearing blue.

Alex takes back the phone but doesn’t turn it off. He stares at the photo, glassy-eyed, blue light throwing stark shadows across his face. His expression is lethargic, unreadable, but George has known Alex long enough to tell when he’s spiraling into his own thoughts.

Carefully, he takes the phone form Alex’s hand and flips it face-down onto the couch. An additional cat, seemingly from nowhere, plops onto the couch and sits between them, covering the phone with its tail.

Alex smiles, gentle and hurt. “Point taken.” He looks at his lap and twists his fingers together until another cat head-butts his hands. “This was the first sign of, like, anything. Sign of life, I guess. Since the… since Tuesday.”

“You haven’t talked since then?”

Alex shakes his head, and the motion is abrupt, almost violent. “Every message I send turns green, I… I think he blocked me.” His voice is almost completely shattered, words thick and effortful.

George doesn’t say anything. He just reaches over and rests his hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex finally loooks back at him and clasps George’s hand between both of his own.

“You miss him,” George murmurs.

Whatever chains Alex had been wrapping around himself snap and the tears fall like a storm. Dark and churning and unforgiving. He’s silent when he cries, teeth gritted, shoulders shaking.

George squeezes his hand, and Alex squeezes back. He’s clutching hard enough to hurt, but George doesn’t pull away.

Alex takes a deep breath and coughs on the exhale. He speaks like his voice cuts his throat on the way out. “He’s happier now, I think… I mean, he got away from it all. He got out.”

“It wasn’t you he was trying to get away from,” George insists fiercely. “He needs space.”

“Fucking hell, I know he needs space,” Alex spits out, voice rising. George tugs on his hands a little, shaking him, and Alex forces himself to take a deep breath. “But I need him.”

George stays very still.

He has to choose his next words carefully. He’s known about Alex’s feelings for months, had his suspicions long before that. He’s the only one who does, because Alex wouldn’t trust anyone else with the secret. He’d told George that, point-blank. And George had kept his word, obviously.

He’d worried for Alex, though. Has been whole time. Between Williams and Logan there was a ticking time bomb, and if George could’ve saved Alex from the shrapnel he would have. But hopes that it was just a phase, that it was just temporary infatuation that would fade over time, were dashed quickly. Whatever Alex felt was serious, and it was going to get him seriously hurt.

After the one confession they had barely spoken about it– not in explicit terms, anyway. As the 2024 season staggered on, their conversations started edging closer to the subject. Any mention of Logan was entangled with references and hints and what had practically become a code between them, all so Alex didn’t have to look the truth in the face. George wished it wasn’t happening; he wished his friend wasn’t setting himself up for heartbreak like this. But it wouldn’t have been fair to tell Alex to change and George would never hurt him like that anyway.

But this night, Alex’s talent for sidestepping reality is dead and buried. He’s hurt and he’s lost and his vulnerable, so George won’t say his own truth:

This was doomed from the start.

You’ve let yourself be hurt by things out of your control.

You can’t race with your head like this.

You need to move on.

Instead he only says, “He’ll come back to you.”

Alex releases one hand to nudge a cat closer to his chest. He lowers his head, voice muffled by the fur. “I wish I could believe you.”

[solarmorrigan]

A scene I spent too much time thinking about in the Bob Adopts Steve AU [more on this idea here and here]. Takes place during s2, sometime after they all convene at the Byers house, but I know not exactly when because I don't remember the whole timeline

cw: hurt/no comfort

-

Steve refuses to break. Not now, not when the whole night is ahead of them, the problem of the demodogs and the gate and the mindslayer or whatever the fuck the kids keep calling it. He can’t break, not when they need him.

But he does just need to– take a minute.

Take a minute to breathe, to process the information that Bob had been at Hawkins Lab. That Bob had been involved.

That Bob is–

When no one is looking his way, he steps out onto the porch, just for a minute, to get some air.

He sort of expects it to be Nancy who’s followed him out there when he hears the door open behind him (he sort of hopes it’s Nancy; that even if she doesn’t love him, even if she’s angry at him, maybe she still cares enough to at least make sure he’s not self-destructing out here).

He’s surprised when it’s Joyce Byers who sinks down onto the steps next to him.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Steve wonders if he should speak first. He should probably apologize for her loss or something, shouldn’t he? But he can’t get any words to come out; all he can do is clench his fists more tightly in his lap to hide the way his hands are shaking.

Then Joyce speaks; her voice is still husky, like it was when they’d first gotten into the house, like she’d been crying (or screaming), but it’s steadier now. “I didn’t realize that you were the Steve that Bob was always talking about.”

Steve’s head comes up, turning to look over at Joyce. “He talked about me?”

Joyce offers Steve a tiny smile. “So much that I thought maybe he’d somehow gone and had a son without anyone knowing. He eventually had to tell me that he met you when you were helped him out with his yard.”

Shame prickles in Steve’s stomach, and he looks away. “Yeah, and I was helping him out with his yard because I destroyed part of it when I probably shouldn’t have been driving after getting into a fight with… pretty much everyone I knew, actually.”

“He did say you had a little… hiccup, is what he called it,” Joyce says, sounding fond, and not at all as judgmental as Steve thinks she probably has a right to be. “But he also said that you came right over to make amends, and that you’re a good kid. He always sees – saw. He… saw the best in people, always.”

“Even when we didn’t deserve it,” Steve says.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Joyce says. “You deserve to have people see good in you, Steve. It’s there.”

Somehow, that just makes Steve feel worse.

“I yelled at him,” Steve blurts out. “The last time we talked, I… I yelled at him.”

Joyce is quiet, and Steve knocks his fist against his forehead, because she’s just lost her significant other and he’s over here whining about how he said something petty to a guy he has no right to be upset about losing. Fuck, no wonder Nancy had dumped him. No wonder Bob had gotten sick of him.

“What did you yell about?” Joyce asks, pulling Steve from his spiral. She sounds genuinely curious.

“I…” Steve freezes; if Bob hadn’t talked to Joyce about moving away, then he doesn’t want her to find out that he was going to like this. “He said he was going to talk to you about something, Halloween night. Did– did he get around to that?”

“About moving out of Hawkins?” Joyce asks, and Steve nods. “He did. I wasn’t sure what to say at first, but… well, I’m sure you can see why there’d be some appeal.”

Steve lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah. Well, he floated the idea past me first, and I kind of flipped out on him.”

“Why?” Steve chances a glance at Joyce and she’s looking at him with a soft kind of concern. “Did you not like the idea of leaving here?”

“What do I have to do with it?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. “He said that he wanted to get you and Will and Jonathan out. And, like, I don’t blame him, I just– I reacted badly, and I wish–”

“Oh, sweetie,” Joyce breaks in, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “He didn’t– Didn’t he get to tell you?”

More confused than ever, Steve shakes his head. “Tell me what?”

“He… I mean, he said that he wanted to wait until summer to move, not just because he didn’t think it would be fair to move Will and Jonathan in the middle of the school year, but also because he was hoping…” Joyce trails off for a moment and takes a breath, like what she says next is going to hurt; Steve stops breathing at all. “He wanted to wait until you graduated because he was hoping to convince you to come along.”

“Oh,” Steve says, completely on automatic.

For a moment, the information doesn’t compute. It doesn’t even sink in.

And then it does.

And that’s when Steve breaks.

[rendnotmyheart]

Soulmate aus are so interesting in an iwtv context. Like for humans it's easy, right? They get their soulmate mark, they find their soulmate, or maybe they don't, and they live their life. For vampires though? Do vampiric soulmates even exist? How could they when the soulmate marks are relics of their human life? When the other person who has the mark will be dead before their life as a vampire has even begun? Or were they always fated to become a vampire? Did the universe take that into account? Will they have to wait some hundreds of years for their soulmate to be born? Their soulmate could be anywhere, any time. Hell, their soulmate could be the person they just drained. Who knows. Even if they were somehow able to find them, what are the chances they'd stay together for eternity? It is eternity after all. Not even the universe or fate can guarantee that.

[chayannesegg]

im so glad empanada, even after a tough day, got to have that talk and hug with richas and then bagi where em got some lovely advice about dealing with grief from richas & talked about what went wrong during the day

but i can't help but contrast this with sunny. sunny who empanada still hasn't seen. sunny whose been alone for days. sunny whose talked with almost no one. sunny who doesn't know bad is dead. sunny whose pretending tubbo isn't dead. sunny who got no goodbye. sunny who got no long talks about grief. sunny who got no explanations. sunny who no one visited today. sunny whose birthday is tomorrow. sunny who no one will wake up for first tomorrow