#remembering everything all at once has to be jarring no matter what

[therulerofallpotatos]

Seeing S1 apocalypse and S2 apocalypse be treated like they're 1:1 is so frustrating sometimes. Like. We can speculate on how aware Viktor was in S1 during the theatre incident and how it was causing the end of the world but no matter what you decide is the answer to that question, it is not anywhere near the same as being tortured by the government, high off LSD, and blowing up a building so you can fuck off somewhere that won't torture you and drop LSD in your system. I wouldn't hold it against anyone to lose control and snap like that in those conditions. Viktor didn't even use his powers to do more than blow up a building. It was all politics after that. Viktor didn't decide to throw around nukes.

Im just saying, the theatre incident is not the same situation as actively being tortured. Like Luther wouldn't break a wall and maybe some necks in the same chair. Or Five panic blinking somewhere/when without aiming properly. Or Allison bending reality in an unpredictable way to just make them stop.

[ennabear]

I really liked mean!abby, what would it be like shopping with her?

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ EEEE i’m glad u liked mean!abby cause i crave this validation!!!! i’m making this about the kitten because i know she secretly loves it, but if you want something else lmk!!! 100% projecting here because my cats are fucking FREAKS. anyways enough yap i’ll let you read now!!!

“aww, abby, look at this one!” you coo, the small white kitten sleepily stretches it’s arms out at the sound of your voice. abby shakes her head, “we don’t need another one.” she says coldly. the kitten rolls over with it’s stretch, showing off it’s soft white tummy. you reach out to grab abby’s shoulder in excitement, only to find her halfway down the aisle, eyebrows furrowed as she stares at her shopping list.

you give the kitten one last smile before turning to follow her, stopping to gaze at her beefy arms effortlessly lifting a heavy box of cat litter. she catches you staring, mumbling an annoyed “cmon. we have places to be.”

“what, you’re already antsy to get home and see your favorite kitten?” you tease, elbowing her in the side. surprisingly, she chuckles at this. “sure, whatever you say.” you turn the corner, eyeing a jar of catnip with a ribbon tied around it.

“fuck no.” she spits, your hand awkwardly halfway in the air as you reach for it. “oh, stop.” you roll your eyes. of course she has to say no to everything, she’s fucking glued to that damn list. “i’m serious, don’t you remember what happened last time? she jumped on top of the fridge and spilled the whole container, there was glass everywhere.”

“okay?” you laugh. “don’t you think our daughter deserves to get a little zooted from time to time? you do it practically every night, such a hypocrite.” she sighs deeply, debating the pros and cons quietly.

“fine. but if she pisses me off one more time, i’m sending her to rehab.”

“what’s that cat’s name?” you ask the cashier.

“the white one?” he gestures to the glass box behind him. “she’s meowrie catoinette, it’s here last day here before she gets sent to a shelter.” god, you’ve never heard a more perfect name. the stars are all aligning.

you grab abby’s wrist before she can swipe her card, using almost all of your upper body strength to hold it in place. “no. and i’m not gonna say it again.”

“what if they kill her, abby?” you plead. she’s not sympathetic at all, instead shrugging and wrestling against your grip on her wrist. “do they do that at the shelter?”

“there’s really no way of knowing.” the cashier answers. “once they leave here, it’s completely out of our hands.”

the kitten wakes from it’s nap at the perfect time, stretching it’s pouty mouth with a big yawn, then looking up at you and meowing. abby breaks free from your grip, swiping her card and quickly shoving it back into her wallet. “how much is she?” you ask.

“any adoptions within the last week of their residency are free. we wanna make sure these animals go home.”

“great!” you beam, “we’ll take her.”

abby’s mouth falls open at your audacity. no matter how much she says no, how hard she puts her foot down, you always find a way to beat her. she doesn’t say another word to you, not as the young man hands you a small meowing kitten in a cardboard box. not on the drive home. not while you eat dinner, your girls next to you slurping at a plate of fancy feast. not in the shower as you massage her scalp.

and it isn’t until you’re both in bed, half naked and half asleep, that she mumbles a grumpy “so this is our destiny now? to be cat moms?”

[thoughtsonkm]

Jeju pt.1 in a nutshell

(more than that, I just love this pretty aesthetic shot)

The vibe was definitely different because logically two people (especially jm&jk) are gonna behave differently than a three person group. Just a matter of numbers, synergies and the need to deliver a specific product to the audience. Nonetheless it was so entertaining to me. I realize I kinda missed these three together sharing 2 braincells (1 for jimin and 1 for tae&jk). The first two episodes were so chill and they felt like they almost had a lowkey underground vibe as if they were in their own bubble away from everyone just living life in their little part of the world accompanied by a moody scene and dim lights while this episode was like a action packed manic episode, so bright so cheerful with childlike wonder. I'm glad they can still have fun together and always enjoy the moment.

Plus let's be honest jikook are gonna jikook no matter the place, time and people around.

Some of the funniest parts of the ep to me were: The contrast of Jimin yapping about Aewol and Tae&Jk eating like there's no tomorrow. The drive through ordeal. The perfect comedic scenario of Jimin chasing Tae to make him eat like it was the last thing he would do.

Favourite reaction meme/face of the day. The betrayal, the suspense, the drama.

LOOK at this little bean stopping and collecting Jimin's 1930 shoes and going after his shenanigans like the dependable banryeo he is 😭 (remember back in 2019 when jimin called jk that and everyone went crazy and rolled with it for MONTHS? Good times)

~

On another note it's actually very interesting how you can feel and see how in every second Jimin tries to be in control of the situation and always on top of everything, every angle and every concern. He also always looks so deep in thoughts during these episodes, it's like he's given himself the task to be the artist, entertainer, manager,producer and everything all at once in this show. I'm sure it also has to do with his own personality and being someone who looks at every minor detail, a perfectionist who tries to curate everyone and everything.

~

The way Jk's life flashed before his eyes when he saw blood on Jimin's lips ~ so fuckin cute

And after Jimin's lip incident happened, Jungkook could not stop licking his own lips for the rest of the episode and probably day, I see you

THAT scene was so thought inducing, so ao3 ff coded it was insane. Just Jk silently staring at a dazzling and sleeping jimin in the ground. 37292 scenarios could've been played and then.. just walked away to take a shower (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

Not okay seriously! The concern, the adoration, the yearning.

Blaming Jk for his actions was never an option. LOOK AT HIM

I LOVE the constant little comedic improvs Jikook do together, they're so fun!! You can tell that it's part of their usual daily thing (it's actually smth i also do with my friends and it always gets hysterical)

~

The idea that they went on a private trip to Jeju in August and then went again for the show in September, fills me with joy. Love that they had the opportunity. Seems like they keep on going to the same locations twice, just so they can get that full experience with each other.

~

I kid you not, this is one of my top3 fav things they do together. JIMINSSIII - JUNGKOOKSSIII

The editing being almost backwards and all over the place really is a little off-putting sometimes, jarring even. Not keeping events in a chronological order is sus on it's own, like they're scraping for footage at this point..

And yes it is also kinda bothering me that it's been years and years of content creation and they still can't do a good job at translating and coordinating what everyone says, is it really that hard? is it??

Imma put her on blast just out of pettiness 😆

[wickedscribbles]

if i get too loud you can shut my mouth ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3 The Poolverine Playlist Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: misunderstandings, aftercare, mental health issues, fluff, chronic pain

Word Count: 1.4K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated. The final chapter! Thanks for sticking with me. This was an absolute BLAST to write and I so appreciate every like, comment, and reblog. ❤️

The little ugly ass dog is lying curled up right next to the bedroom door when Logan steps out. As soon as she sees him, she gets to her feet, tail wagging furiously.

“Yeah, hi, baby,” he says to her. “Hi. I see you.”

Dogpool – Mary Puppins – whatever the hell her name is – snorts and wheezes like he just told her she’s the best dog alive and he’ll never pet another dog again. (Not likely – she feels like a dead man’s ballsack.)

Shaking his head a little, he steps across the hall to the bathroom. After a brief search and an unnerving encounter with a gallon jug labeled daddy’s XTRA big lube jar (for all kinds of tight spots!!), Logan makes his way back into the bedroom with what he’d been after: a wet washcloth to clean them both up.

Wade is there where he’d left him, curled up in a tight ball, strangely quiet and motionless.

Something about that strikes him with instant dread, anxiety that he can’t put a name on. It doesn’t feel right to see him so still. This is the man who drives him up the fucking wall, who won’t shut up, who needs to have the last word, who needs to keep moving.

What happened?

“Hey,” he says softly, perching on the edge of the now-unstable mattress. “You, uh, want to get some of that off?”

His inner thighs are sticky and drying with come. Logan’s covered, too, and desperate for a shower, but he’s never just left anyone a mess after sex. This is a part of it.

Wade’s eyes flit to him, coming back to life with more of that coherence and energy that Logan recognizes. After a beat, his mouth pulls back into a grin. It doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Oh,” he laughs a little. “Ha. Yeah. Shit, yeah, sure, thanks.”

He reaches out for the washcloth, a little too quickly, the eye contact not quite there.

Logan is beginning to realize that he might have fucked up.

It’s been so long since he’s gone through the ritual of sex that he forgot to be delicate where it mattered the most. And with this being their first time, he could have just fucking said be right back. He’s an idiot, isn’t he? He’s a fucking idiot.

The white hot anger at himself springs up in Logan in just seconds, and pushing it down is so, so hard. He has to remind himself to breathe, breathe, to not let everything go to shit in his mind the way it so often tends to.

Remember what Charles used to say.

There’s a time and a place for everything. You are a good man who has had the curse of a bad life. Don’t let it define what you do. McDonald’s is shit and Nando’s will always be better, I don’t care what you say, Hank.

God, he misses that man.

Okay. He’s fine. This is fine. Logan doesn’t have to run away from this or destroy it. He can stay right here with Wade and talk through it, though his stomach is twisting itself into devastating knots and he feels like he needs a drink more than he needs air pulled through his lungs.

Logan places his hand over Wade’s. Water droplets fall between them from the washcloth onto the sheets, loud in the quiet.

“I can do that for you,” he says. “I – I want to.”

Wade blinks, and a few miniscule changes happen at once. First, Logan hears his heartbeat pick up. Next, blood rushes to his scarred face. An anomaly; Logan's never seen him blush. The satisfaction that comes with seeing it now wars with the rising feeling of affection for the man – that Logan could be the one to make such a rare thing happen.

Last, the scent that he’s always associated with Wade shifts ever so slightly. The smallest change. If Logan weren’t so close, or if they hadn’t just spent the last hour or so being about as personal as you can get, he probably wouldn’t have picked it up. Nonetheless, something is new. Sweeter.

“Sheesh,” Wade replies. “We just keep learning more about each other, don’t we, princess? Age gap, caretaker kink, how will they keep up with the tags you keep throwing at them?”

There he is – back online. Spouting nonsense and all. It’s a relief, to say the least; even if Logan has no clue what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Is that your way of saying I can clean you up?” Logan says dryly.

“Sure, sure. Whatever gets you hard, cupcake.”

Logan rolls his eyes as Wade wriggles back a little, spreading his legs. He spreads the washcloth over the other man’s skin in gentle up and down motions, pleased when he feels the stickiness breaking down. Nothing a shower can’t do better, and that’s likely where they’ll both end up soon anyway. But he likes touching base like this. Like a wordless way of telling the other person that this was important – they matter.

Saying something sweet doesn’t always come easy to him. Little actions like this do.

He lets his hands stop when the rag’s done all the work it really can.

“What now?”

Wade’s voice is a little gentler than he’s used to hearing it. A little younger.

Logan swallows past the fear and nerves, trying to recall the voices of all the people who have tried to cheer him on in the past few months as he’d hesitated and stayed away from this for so long.

Vanessa. Logan, sweetie. He wants you so bad. Let yourself want it back.

Al. Swear to God, if you two don’t get together soon. Y’all are grown men. I’m gonna be dead and in the ground before you get any dick.

Laura. If you like him, just say something. It’s hard, but not as hard as spending the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you had just grown a pair.

They’re all right. He takes a deep breath.

“I was thinking we shower, sleep in, get breakfast.” Logan ticks each item off on his fingers. “And see where we go from there.”

Wade’s face lights up from the inside out, that real bonfire grin. Logan’s breath catches somewhere in his throat before he’s inevitably smiling back, leaning his forehead in to bump the crook of Wade’s knee.

“Yeah. Sounds like a solid plan, chief.”

After the relief of a long, hot shower, they drift back to bed. Clean and sleepy, with Mary Puppins at their heels, they arrange themselves in the blankets.

Though they start facing one another, there’s the problematic adjustment of limbs, and Logan ends up with his back to Wade. There’s only a second’s hesitation before he feels the other man wrap his arms around his waist, and Logan would almost be embarrassed at how quickly he shifts to wriggle back into the embrace if it weren’t for everything they’d just done with one another. Being held feels too good to even pretend to be stoic about it.

Wade chuckles quietly near his ear, but doesn’t remark on it.

For once, his mind isn’t racing. He’s mostly comfortable. Of course, Logan’s almost always in pain – the dull ache of a long life will leave you suffering, whether the pain screams or whispers depends on the day – but this isn’t bad. Wade’s touching him in a gentle, soothing way, almost mimicking how Logan had cleaned him earlier. Up, down. Up, down. His eyelids are so heavy.

He’s almost asleep when he hears one last thing.

“What?” Logan’s eyes aren’t even open, his voice muffled into the blankets.

“I said, you owe me 24.99 for the robe, by the way. Not counting sales tax, because I’m growing fond of you.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Logan can feel Wade’s body shake with laughter.

“35.99 for the sheets. I know, I know, that’s on the pricey side – but they’re cotton and you know my ass needs luxury.”

Still unmoving, Logan scowls. “I am not replacing your damn sheets. Get the stain out or live with it, diva. Do you think I’m made of money?”

“What about the cost of labor?” Wade presses, clearly beside himself with how entertaining this has become.

“You’re about to cost me my sanity. Go to sleep.”

They did. It was the start of a mutually kinky, violent, beautiful relationship.

[stormblessed95]

Watching Are You Sure?! EP 4

A reminder of how I do these reaction posts as I watch things. I just write my reactions and thoughts down literally they happen. Think more of a bullet point format. I'll include links when I can to videos, thanks to the people who twt who upload clips. And at the end, I'll do a better wrap up of all my opinions. I hope everyone enjoyed the show so far!!

Jungkook calling Jimin Hyungnim was so cute. Followed by the exaggerated listening of instructions to loosen his shoulders lol. And they way Jimin is so fond of JK enjoying riding 🥰

Jimin comparing the moon to which moon phase it is on his back is amazing for me personally thanks

Wait! Pausing to go make myself some tea to drink with them while they have their meal at the Japanese restaurant! 🥰🥰

Jikook are muscle memory kinda touchy man

Tae annoying Jimin with all his headbanging and ending up with a sore neck that Jimin massages for him 🥰 lol why doesn't JKs neck also hurt? Apparently he has a thick neck 🤣

JK filming all their food again 🥺 and I Love his reactions to good food! Tae too. Lol I just know that chef loved having them there appreciating his food so much! I don't even like sushi and they made me believe I would enjoy it 🤣

And he did!

Tae asking why RM wasn't here and Jikook immediately being like excuse you, it's a show just for the two of us. We barely let you in here to guest star because you wanted to and we love you 🤣 Tae "I felt that, thank you" 🤣🤣

V calling Joonie to ask for him to send him come back to me, the song he sang at D day 🥺🥺🥺 and expressing his sincere appreciation for it and for RM. God, my emotions! Tae wanting to crawl inside Namjoons brain basically is so relatable.

Jimin's little smile when Tae played Alone saying he really liked it 🥺🥺 I LOVE hearing them talk music together. It's his favorite song off Face 🥺🥰

Tae saying it (Face/Alone) reminded him of when they (Vmin) talked in your (Jimins) hotel room. Just for Jimin to say that it was JKs room. This just also gives that little bit of confirmation that Jikook are constantly glued at the hip. Always together. Might as well just get them the one room anyway 😂

Jimin taking his shirt off when they get inside and JK immediately being unable to take his eyes off him no matter how hard he tried. 😂🤣 It would've looked less sus at this point to have just openly looked at him sweetie lol

Idk what Jimin's thoughts were when he first got in that pool with Jungkook, but he looked mischievous. Idk what he was going to pull, but it was something inappropriate. Lol the way JK immediately reminded him of the see through glass, "hey babe, the staff and cameras will see EVERYTHING you do next, underwater is NOT safe" and the way they both immediately whipped their heads over to look at it and nervously chuckled. Like kids who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar 😅😂🤣

The hand pushing game that competitive JK has never once "attacked" in when against Jimin. 😂

So so many cuts in the pool. Wonder how long they stayed in there playing 🥰

Jikook wanting to show off their underwater game to Tae lmao who is not interested 😂 Tae just wants to go to bed 😂🤣 not them just watching Tae get ready for bed like absolute creepers 🤣🤣

You are me, I am you underwater 😍😍😍

I'm pretty sure Jimin just propositioned Jungkook after swimming. Idk what he planned to do about it since they are sharing a bedroom with Tae lmfao but I'm fairly sure that's what he did. He was "really craving it" lmfao the way JK laughed and smacked him for the flirting too? 😅😂 The "you don't have to eat. I can it all" is giving "what? I can do it by myself, no worries" type of flirting teasing. If we are going to be continuing with the innuendos 😂😂

Jikook domestically sharing the bathroom. For their showers too? Lol idk. But the way they've got their suitcases spread open next to each other and just pulling from both too? So domestic.the way they sat on the little cushions before bed too leaned all into each other, watching JKs performance on his phone and talking about what he needs to do/film, etc. So fucking domestic

JK saying he hasn't slept at all since NY. Poor baby is so fucking busy. I'm also not saying he sleeps better with Jimin, but I'm also not not saying that

Tae took Jimin's bed (lol?) and Jikook just automatically running for JKs bed and flipping into it all cuddled up together? The only nighttime time lapse we've gotten so far. Lol when they have an additional person in the room anyway 😂 think Tae knew they'd enjoy sharing the bed anyway so felt safe taking Jimins? 😂 The way JK woke up briefly and turned to check on Jimin before moving to the 3rd bed to get snuggled under the covers. That was honestly so cute. Domesticcccc

So much has happened and I'm not even halfway through. Wtf

Tae's poor neck is still sore. Lmao baby you are getting older I guess. No excessive headbanging allowed anymore! Asking JK to massage it for him and JK taking care of it was soooo cute

Jungkookie's mom calling him and asking what was up and bringing up that he was with Jimin twice and confirming he (they?) were coming home for Chuseok 🥺 that was genuinely so cute and sweet

Tae offering to pluck Jimin's one long beard hair for him. Their cute sleepy faces 🥺

Tae offering and giving Jimin a massage while he sings Tae's Slow Dancing. They are so fucking cute I cannot handle myself. Vminkook massage train is something I need. Lol give it to me 😂

Jimin speeding up to pass taekook on their bikes and them both whipping their heads around to look and smile at him was so cute lol and the way they danced at lights too. Adorable. And taekook playing word games!!

The way JK surprised Jimin by hitting the table because he was so excited to eat the food! Lol

Tae just wanting to drop the knowledge that he knows Jimin super well because he knew he wouldn't want a soda while he ate 😂 I love him

JK once again filming his food and filming his Jimin

Jiminie needs a clip or mini ponytail lmfao he keeps holding his bangs back while trying to eat 😂

LOL THEY GOT HIM ONE! and it's adorable!! I wish they showed us whichever Noona came running over to pin his hair for him and the vminkook giggles I'm sure followed 😂🥰 maybe in the behinds lol

Tae calling Jimin Serendipity was 🥺😍🥺😍

Sometimes the giant ass bites they take of food worries me that they might choke 😅 maybe it's the mom in me lol

JK: "you're not a big eater"

JM: "no, I ate a lot. You just eat loads" lmfao

Jimin waxing poetic about Tan 🥺🥺🥺

JK saying that seeing Tan on Vs promos made him miss Bamie 😭🥺

I can't tell if Tae asking JK about paying and JK saying to wire him the money was a skit or not 🤣 probably because it felt like such a normal conversation if my friends and I went out to eat 😅😂 the giggles gave me skit vibes though lol

The cutest little cafe! And Jimins absolute excitement when he spots the cat inside! It's the cafe from Tae's selfies he posted with Jikook!

Vmin constantly with the romance skits lmao

Jikook with the strangers to lovers first time meet cute skits as always too lol

Who was Tae talking to about working out?? Lol

The extremely good looking server Tae skit 😍

The Vmin bickering followed by a cut of them sitting in their own seats and the editor caption of "we don't fight" lmfao show us the rest of their bickering editors!

Jimin saying to look at the pretty clouds and JK following that up with the incredibly cheesy flirty "you're prettier Jimin" and Jimin being so over his cheesiness was amazing. I loved it so much. JK can be such a flirt sometimes and it always flusters Jimin lmao

Vmin talking about how JK is so much stronger than they are. Tae saying that's true but he would never pretend to cower and Jimin saying he isn't pretending, he is just actually scared lmao

"Raggedy Jungkook is back" JK will never live that tan line down. Lol Jimin joining in and then making Tae join in too, he looked so unamused. Lol They are absolutely ridiculous 😂 JK out on so much sunscreen 😂 anytime be does anything ridiculous though it's so cute how he immediately looks for Jimins reaction, to make sure it made him laugh and smile 🥰

Poor Tae's neck is still hurting! I hope he feels better!

Poor JK, hitting his head on the boat and Jimins immediate CPR rescue lmfao!

Jimin's amazing jump and JKs perfect dive!

Tae also hitting his head on the boat! My poor babies lmao! I was going to say the boat needs a watch your head sign, but it has one 🤣

Mermaid Jimin 😍

JK swimming up to Jimin and holding onto him briefly and humming through his snorkel 🥰 the way that even playing in the ocean, they are basically stuck like glue to each other too. The arms around each other while swimming was so cute!

JK and Jimin sharing a bowl of Ramen! The way JK takes a bite, puts the rest of the noodles he bit off of back in the bowl and hands it off to Jimin. By far not the worst way they've shared food (hello lemon) lol but still!

Tae calling the captain over to help him reel the "big fish!" He caught in just for the captain to tell him it was a rock 🤣🤣 Watching the maknae line struggle to fish makes me miss Yoonjin! I need to see Jins reaction to this part of the episode actually lmfao

Not the drone sacrificing itself to the sea 🤣🤣 the confused crew and JKs shook face!!

Tae finally caught 2 fish!! Good job!!! The way he left JM and JK take pictures with his fish like they caught them too 🥺😍🥰

Watching the sunset, Jimin going "this is romantic" 🥺🥺🥺 followed promptly be him getting down to cuddle JK while he records the sunset is so fucking cute.

Jikook cloud watching! This is where they draw their whale cloud picture together 🤣😂 the giggles! They are so precious!!

Tae finally coming to join Jikook in laying down in the boat together (where was he?!) I just love seeing them be so at peace together 🥰🥰🥰 the amount of "I love this" that occured brings me SUCH happiness

Wrap up Thoughts:

A reminder, to also myself that this was filmed Sept 25 - 27th of 2023 and was Chuseok right after they landed 😊 where Tae posted his sunset photo from Jeju that he took while they were on this boat together!

Istg there were so many cuts. I feel like we barely ever got to even see a full conversation. I get that there is 24 hours basically of footage for one day that they trim to an hour of content, but I beg for some continuity. This is why people make analysis posts editors?! You give them too much wiggle room and never a consistent timeline!

Jikook had an extra domestic energy to them this episode, even with all the playing and giggling happening too. Idk what caused the energy shift, maybe just Jimin not feeling sick for once. And with the added bonus of knowing they made the choice to apply for the buddy system too.

They were so cuddly and sweet and observant to each other's ever need. Jimin loves him some biker JK too 😂 and God, JK just never stops calling Jimin pretty. I truly love that for them. So much

The energy with another member around really did just draw out how different Jikooks dynamic is with each other at times.

Say what you want, JKs call with his mother was the sweetest little interlude ever and it absolutely sounded like his mom was calling to confirm he was bringing his boyfriend home for the holiday. Lol I know Jimin went to see his parents too, but that's the energy that call gave! I can't help it!

This was their second trip to Jeju, since they went together in August too. And they flew back home and basically went straight to Busan together to visit their families for Chuseok. I'm so so glad they got to do all that together. I can't wait for the next episode to see how they end their Jeju vacation!

[skayafair]

Ghost Clothes

There were many enough posts on how deliberately and meticulously the costume designers approached the wardrobe choices for the characters.

What I want to talk about is a different thing - how clothes matter inside the show. Namely, the ghost clothes.

It's less prominent with Charles, so I'll mostly talk about Edwin.

Let's start with the fact that none of their clothing exists in a living world. It's not physical, otherwise people would have seen a pair of costumes flying around like with that jar. So I believe their clothes is being deliberately manifested.

Like I said, it's simpler with Charles: his clothing doesn't change much in general and remains mostly as what he was wearing when he died (he took off some because it was cold and soaked through but it still imprinted on his memory and mind). It's mostly just the colour of his polo that changes to reflect his emotional state.

But that's how I came to this whole train of thought because with Edwin it's much more interesting.

Because he doesn't wear what he died in. I'm not even sure it's his school uniform. Sure it has indications of "this is a young man and a student" but all in all doesn't look like a uniform to me. So Edwin chooses it very, very deliberately.

I wonder if he stumbled out of Hell wearing just the same night pajamas he had on when he was sacrificed - maybe just cleaner because it wasn't dirty or bloody back then and that's how he should have remembered it. Or maybe it remained dirty and bloody because Edwin didn't remember much of his life before Hell at that point, all the horrors being too fresh in his mind.

This look is defenseless. It's meant to be worn while asleep - the most vulnerable time. Edwin wore it when he was the most helpless and powerless - while being dragged from the bed and sacrificed. It's also a reminder of his time of torture in hell. It's also plain white - colour of purity - as a sacrifice - but also death. And, moreover, it's PLAIN. It has no distinguishing features. There's no Edwin in it, Edwin is being erased with all the torture. Lastly, this is something - just another thing - Edwin had no control over in Hell, it stayed there by default.

So I BET the first thing he did after pulling his thoughts together in living world was to change that fucking nightwear into something that was him. As an act of regaining himself and control over what was going on with his existence.

After he found out he could do that and how, of course. I wonder if he met other ghosts or just ended up back in school and stayed there for a while.

So no wonder Edwin is so thorough with what he wears. This is him - his armor, yes, but also undeniably and glaringly HIM. His existence, his way of it, his freedom and will, his choice.

Of course it reflects his attitude and relationship with others. With Charles Edwin has no issue with shrugging off both the jacket and the vest, leaving only the shirt - and even it has its sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned when he's ears deep in some research or problem-solving mode. Edwin is this comfortable with Charles, we all know that.

With Crystal it's always a full buttoned-up mode or I didn't make a mental note if it was otherwise some time. Hit me up if it was!

With Niko it's mostly a jacket off - which is a considerable step towards trust and comfort.

Anyway, these are little details.

And now imagine ending up back in Hell, but also back in that nightwear. Stripped off everything he was trying so hard to keep. A similar thing happens when he's taken by Esther. No freedom, no choice, no will of his own, no Edwin. Just a soul, a toy, an energy source.

The costume Edwin picked for himself as more or less default one comes back immediately once he and Charles stumble back into the living world. Notice this - he was wearing a different attire when he was dragged to hell.

Edwin regains everything - himself, his freedom, his connections.

Also I'm not sure how to interpret the gesture, but once the Night Nurse's boss proclaims that DBDA can exist as is further and they are let off the hook (although not off the leash), Edwin pats his jacket from top to bottom. I thought it might have been connected to his notebook and episode 4, but it also may be just that - "I'm still here, in one piece, and still me". His clothes is a proof of his freedom of will.

Lastly, there was another case apart from the main two when this is reflected. The girl who took her life because of two jocks - her ghost was wearing a sport suit. At first I couldn't understand why, it was clearly not what she died in (or, well, unlikely). But sport has been the most important thing in her life - her goal, her pride. No wonder that's what she chose to appear in.

UPD. Oh I've just remembered about the Cat King, another example of a character who goes through a variety of costumes. If my pov on Edwin's approach to clothing is correct, his words to the CK in the 8th episode make so much more sense. They really are alike - not just in loneliness.

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 10

Hi there! Welcome to part 10 of my Dracula x Reader fic! It's a little later than I had hoped, but I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After waking up the next day, you contemplate your situation, trying to find a way to make the best of it. It all starts to come together until you get an unexpected visitor. At least Dracula seems insistent on taking care of you? CW: Injury mention, threats of harm, hints at an abusive situation Word Count: 5224 words! Like my work? Come check me out here: Link every little bit helps me out!

Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @onewiththebeanbag, @starrlo0ver, @sleepyendymion, @dame-sunflowers, @sapphicsfordracula, @ursamajor17, @maorizon, @marshmelloe, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @rvautomatic,

First: Here!Last: Here!Next: Here!

Your dreams were surprisingly pleasant that night.

Given the fact you had actually even fallen asleep in your family’s enemy’s castle, it was something you were a bit taken aback by.

The dreams you had were confusing and odd, but almost comforting. Once again, like a few times before, you were in a comforting presence. As if being protected, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Like something was holding you. Comforting you. Someone was whispering as they held you, too. However, no matter how hard you strained your ears to listen, you could not make out what they were saying.

You couldn’t see, it was as if you were wrapped in a blanket of darkness, but you did not feel worried. It was as if whatever was holding you seemed to scare off any danger that would consider hurting you.

It was arguably the most at ease you had felt in years.

Which is why you were so incredibly confused when you woke up.

“...What…?” you sleepily asked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

However, you suddenly sat up, realizing you had no idea where you were. Your instincts screamed at you, and you had a moment of panic, before you felt a twinge of pain.

Looking down, you noticed your wrapped up injuries, and suddenly you began to remember just exactly where you were.

You were in Dracula’s castle. Castlevania.

Your heart still thudded in your chest, but you felt yourself beginning to calm down as you remembered everything that had happened.

Dracula was back, alive and presumably well. You had accidentally broken him free from his prison, with your own blood no less.

Good going, you. Bringing back the potential end of humanity while in a manic state!

Sighing, you turned to lay on your side.

What’s done is done.

But… you were surprised.

Dracula had every reason and means to kill you. By all accounts, he should have.

You were technically his greatest living enemy, or at least the living descendant of the clan that killed him over and over again. Your family has foiled his plans for centuries, killing him many, many times.

He had every right to want to kill you.

But he didn’t.

From the moment he was freed from his stony prison, he had done nothing but show you concern. It was incredibly jarring for you. Where his hand should have been sharp and piercing, his touch had been gentle and careful. He had carried you to a guest room and patched you up himself, telling you to rest.

The thought stirred feelings up inside you. When was the last time someone cared enough about you to ask you to rest?

Then he came back, with food for you.

It was more or less broth, sure, but he had taken time to have some made in a castle full of the supernatural, and gave it to you himself.

All while patiently listening to you mumble and talk while still in a frazzled state of mind, and answering a few questions you had.

You don’t remember much after eating. After getting something in your stomach, you remember growing increasingly exhausted, past the point of being able to fight it.

After everything you had been through, you weren’t entirely surprised you crashed.

Though you felt your face grow hot when you realized Dracula must have sat and watched you fall asleep, taking your bowl and tucking you back into the bed.

Some scary vampire hunter you were, when your ‘worst enemy’ was tucking you into bed.

You curled into the covers further, your face no doubt bright red.

Why did the thought of him caring so much please you? Make you feel warm inside? Were you really that desperate for positive affection after all these years, receiving it from the King of Vampires made you blush like a teenager?

“I must still be horribly injured. Easy.”

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true.

As much as you wanted to ignore it, you can’t deny you had gotten attached to the man when he had been trapped as a statue. It wasn’t healthy, and you knew there was always the possibility he would not have heard you, or would have killed you right away.

You had just been in too deep to stop.

His statue and castle had grown on you. You knew coming back over and over again would have consequences.

But…

Sighing, you pressed your face into the soft pillow.

You were so fucked.

Why did it have to be Dracula though that was taking care of you? Did fate like doing this to you, making you and your family its own personal chew toy? It was beginning to feel increasingly personal at this point.

With a groan, you looked over to the side, seeing your whip on the pillow next to you. Even when Dracula had carried you here, you had never let go of it, having it hang on your hip. Before you slept, you kept it next to your pillow, keeping it close for comfort.

After a moment, you reached for it, and pulled it close to your chest.

You weren’t anticipating any sort of attack, not really. However, your whip had always been a comfort for you, for as long as you could remember. It especially was an emotional crutch for you after your mother passed, being something she used all her life before handing it to you.

Even if you didn’t really have any real or close family anymore, you at least had the whip.

It was funny. Despite being deep in enemy territory, you were inclined to believe you actually didn’t need to use it.

At least, you hoped you wouldn’t have to. You’d keep in on you just in case.

You trusted Dracula’s word, yes, but you didn’t trust all his lackeys. Most of them had free wills of their own, and would probably love to take a shot at you.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to set you up later if Dracula tells them they can only attack in self defense. If they can convince everyone you attacked first, then it was free game.

Perhaps it’d be best to keep your phone on you as well, and to keep it charged? You never know when you would need to take photos or a video.

You’d like to think Dracula would at least give you the benefit of the doubt, given he has been rather fair so far. But if several monsters ganged up on you and tried to provide false testimony? You wouldn’t blame the Lord of the Night for taking their side.

Gripping your whip tighter, you scowled.

Funny how you trusted the King of Vampires more than his underlings. Something you never thought you’d think. Maybe you should start a list, with how often you found yourself thinking that?

You stayed in bed a few more moments, before sitting up. Your stitches tugged, and you winced. No doubt you’d need to clean those soon.

Carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the massive bed, and shakily stood on your feet. Whip loosely in hand, you walked over to a nearby chair.

Dracula had at some point, set your bag on the chair before tending to you. As much as you didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed, you wanted to grab your phone in case you needed it later.

Gently picking up your bag, you turned around, and totally did not let out a short scream.

Death itself was hovering above the bed, staring down at you.

“U-Uh… Can I… Help you?” You asked, swallowing thickly.

The air had grown unsettling cold, as if the air itself was sapping your heat from your body. Your feet felt like they were stepping on ice from how cold the floor had become, and your heartbeat was pounding in your ears.

You had never encountered Death before, having only read descriptions of it from your ancestors in their journals.

None of the journal’s descriptions could compare to seeing Death in person, while you were critically injured, and very, very vulnerable.

The Deity looked down at you, and you weren’t sure if it was from curiosity, or disdain.

Just how long had Death been in here? Since you got up? Or had it been here the whole time and had been hiding its presence?

The answer didn’t really matter. It was Dracula’s castle, and Death was his most loyal lieutenant. For all you knew, he was assigned to keep an eye on you so you didn't do something stupid. Or, perhaps he wanted you gone. Who was to say?

Shaking, you forced yourself to keep your whip lowered. You were a guest, you reminded yourself.

You would not attack or threaten unless struck first.

Though it was hard to keep that in mind when literally staring Death itself in the face.

Death gripped its scythe tight, before floating close.

Your mouth went dry as you struggled not to panic and fight your instincts.

Not just your hunting instincts, but your survival instincts as well.

After all, it was only natural for any living thing to have such a reaction to seeing Death with their own eyes.

Death’s sockets were empty, besides two small glowing blue and white fires where each eye should be. They seemed to zero in on you.

“Little Belmont…”

Death’s voice felt unnatural, in a way that felt… inhuman. No vocal cords.

It was as if it were a mix of strings on an instrument untuned, while being nothing more than an echo in the wind. Your brain was barely able to grasp it.

It was speaking again, and the chill down your spine felt like someone pouring cold water on top of you.

“Just what are your intentions here? What are your plans with my master?”

Death’s question almost had you shocked out of your stupor.

Plans? What plans?

“Pardon?” you asked, a bit confused. Death looked at you closely, and you tried to ignore how your body was breaking out into a cold sweat.

“What do you intend to do to my master?” he asked. Despite the absurdity of the situation, his question had you thinking.

Just what were your plans? Challenge Dracula to a duel to the death? You wanted to laugh at the idea.

No. You still wanted to see what possibilities are ahead of you. Given Dracula wasn’t hostile towards you, perhaps the future wasn’t too bleak for you.

After a moment, you spoke up.

“I… Have no idea.” you spoke, the words slipping off your tongue. Death was quiet, and you continued speaking.

“If I’m being honest, I hope I don’t have to fight him at all.”

You turned away from Death, and sighed. It was the truth. You didn’t want to fight the Vampire King.

Death was patient, as if sensing your thoughts, waiting for you to continue.

“Not because I’m scared to, no doubt I’d be afraid if I were to fight him to the death. But…”

Lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a loud crack of lightning. You swore it was beginning to rain.

“...Ever since I entered this castle months ago, seeing Dracula as a statue, I have not wanted to fight him. If I had to, I wanted to make it an honorable one, not attack him when he could not fight back. Not out of pity, mind you.”

Gripping your whip slightly, you remembered how you felt that day.

“But when was the last time any of my ancestors talked to him? All my family has taught is that he is the ultimate evil to be killed. The journals passed down by my ancestors talk about his desire for destruction and how he would do anything to achieve it. My mother taught me to think otherwise.”

Death seemed interested in what you were saying. At least, you think he was interested. The deity was floating above you, and seemed to give you some space as it stared curiously. You looked it in the eyes.

“My mother taught me to ask questions if I can, that nothing is black and white. She didn’t know if I’d be fighting Dracula or not, but told me to question things. My family only paints one side of the picture, after all.”

It felt kinda weird admitting this to Death itself, you’d admit. However, it was most certainly the truth. Your feelings were very conflicted, and you felt like a broken record at this point with how often you have thought about it, and have stated this fact.

Thankfully, Death was considering your words.

“So you wish to find a common ground? A compromise?”

Death’s voice had gone from feeling like a scratch on a chalkboard, to a weird empty echo. Somehow you were getting the feeling Death had made its voice like that originally on purpose to intimidate you.

You were quiet for a moment.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

Once again, you felt by saying those words, something was stirring inside you. Like signing a contract, or making a vow.

Death tilted its head.

“I see…”

Another part of you was surprised the deity accepted your answer so readily, no longer seemingly cold and accusatory.

Then again, Death was a part of the divine, yes? Perhaps it could see your honesty? How unsure you were about the whole thing?

Death was silent for a while more, though it didn’t feel as if he was about to blast you off the face of the earth, or decapitate you with its scythe.

“How curious…”

Death seemed to study you, and the posture the deity carried seemed less hostile than before. You hoped that was a good thing.

“Young Belmont, honest to a fault, just like the rest of your ilk.”

You tried not to take offense to how he said that.

Death paused, as if considering its words, before speaking once more.

“I can see souls, you know. Belmonts can not hide from me. Your souls have a very distinct glow. Each and every one of them is different, but always have similar features unique to your family.”

Death suddenly leaned in, and gave you what you could only describe as a crooked grin. The air around the specter felt like it was sapping the warmth from your very core.

“Therefore, knowingly lying to me is pointless. So imagine my surprise that you seem to be telling the truth. Perhaps my master was right when he said he saw something special in you. Of course, I had to see for myself if you were going to cause trouble…”

That made sense. No doubt Death had its reservations about you staying in the castle. If you were in his shoes (cloak?), you would probably have checked it out too.

Seemingly satisfied with the conversation, Death hovered away from you.

“For now, I’ll trust your word and my master’s judgment. However, I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Little Belmont.”

The fire in Death’s eyes grew red hot.

“Just know this. If you betray him and his trust, I will personally be the one to devour your soul.”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded.

“Uh… sure thing, sir…”

The fire died down in the deity’s eyes, and he nodded. The room then slowly began to grow darker once more, as if the shadows were reaching out to Death.

“Till we meet again, Belmont.”

With a flash of darkness(?), the deity was gone, and your room began to warm up and brighten.

Slowly, as if in a daze, you walked over to the bed, and fell face first into it. You groaned into the sheets as your wounds throbbed from the sudden pressure, and you tossed your bag to the side.

“Fuck me.” you mumbled, and you felt the tension in your body release as you groaned into the sheets.

Death. You met Death. Death didn’t point at you and obliterate your entire existence.

That was a plus at least.

“My life is a fucking joke, and I’m the damn punchline.”

For some reason, you began to wonder if every Belmont before you felt the same way to various degrees for different reasons.

Though you’d admit, you think your situation feels like it takes the cake. What Belmont can say they accidentally freed Dracula after growing attached to a statue of him and get lightly warned not to fuck up by Death?

You had a feeling it was probably a pretty slim number.

Taking a deep breath, and letting out a long sigh, you forced yourself to sit up. Sitting now at the edge of the bed, you grabbed your bag and dug around for your phone. Pulling it out, you held it for a moment.

The last thing you wanted right now was to see any ‘concerned’ messages from your fraud of a family. It wouldn’t be the first time they had done so to get you back home and under their thumb again. No doubt guilt tripping you, to threatening you if you didn’t listen.

When you bit the bullet and turned the screen on, you were actually pretty surprised you didn’t see any messages. Not yet anyways.

For all you knew, they were actually giving you a few days before getting pissy about you being gone. You did throw them around a little, so perhaps they were also licking their wounds and their pride.

You’d take any bit of peace you could get.

As you sat there, staring at the screen, a sudden knock was at the door. You let out a yelp, and your phone slipped from your hands. Comically, you tried to catch it, but it merely bounced out of your grip a few times before smacking the floor.

The person waited a moment, before seemingly hesitantly knocking again.

“Come in!” you spoke up, trying to awkwardly reach for your phone from the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain. You glanced up, seeing Dracula entering with what you assumed was another first aid kit. Presumably to check on your wounds.

Looking back down, you try reaching for your phone again.

Just as you almost had it, you nearly jumped when a large, pale hand grabbed your phone for you.

Glancing up, your face was hovering just a few inches away from Dracula’s. All the while, amusement seemed evident in his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be resting, and not straining your stitches?” He asked. It might have been your imagination playing tricks on you, but it sounded a lot like he was teasing you, rather than him scolding you.

You could practically feel your face blossom red, both from embarrassment, and just from how close he was in general as he teased you.

Sitting up quickly, Dracula rose next to you, and gently handed your phone out to you.

Looking between him and your phone for a moment, you carefully reached out and took it. His hand was cool against your own as he slid it into your hand, and you tried to fight back the shivers that went down your spine.

Just how touched starved were you?

“Thank you. The knock had startled me, and I dropped it. I… Reached for it without thinking.” you finally spoke, trying to get your blushing under control.

Dracula looked you over for a moment. You had a feeling he was still amused by the whole scenario.

“Perhaps it would be wise to remember your wounds ahead of time then.” He spoke, and again, you couldn’t help but feel he was lightly picking on you. His tone wasn’t scolding at all.

Walking over, he sat the medical kit next to you on the bed.

“Now, may I redress your wounds? It isn’t sanitary to keep such injuries in the same wrappings for too long, and I would like to see how well they are healing. The last thing you need is an infection to spring up, and with how far you pushed yourself, I would not be surprised if you were fighting one.”

Someone who actually cared about your injuries? A man after your own heart.

When Dracula barked out a laugh, you jumped, and felt heat rushing to your face once more.

Had you said that out loud?!

“Forgive me, that had caught me off guard. I was not laughing at you, honest.”

Your face was still warm, though you were a bit hypnotized. You must still be a bit out of it if you couldn’t watch your mouth.

His laugh had you feeling as if your brain was stuck in a loading screen.

This just was not fair. How can he be pretty, have a nice voice, and a hot laugh? Life was a game and somehow he had rigged it.

Just from that small interaction, it wasn’t hard to tell Dracula was now in a good mood. Somehow, he seemed a bit lighter, the air around him not as… suffocating? Intense? Drowning?

You weren’t sure what to call it, but hey, if he was in a better mood, that was better for you.

Dracula then tapped the top of the medical box, grabbing your attention while giving you an amused look.

“Now, you still haven’t answered my request. Would you let me redress your wounds? I wish to see if they are healing well, and if any need more attention in case of infection.”

With a sigh, you nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

May as well let him. He did an amazing job yesterday, and you figure he probably knew even more than you when it came to this stuff.

Sure, it hurt your ego a little bit, but you knew it was the truth. You wouldn’t get anywhere fighting him on it.

Though if you were being honest, the fact he still wanted to treat your wounds so much was very… touching.

Dracula didn’t waste any time after you gave him your consent to look over your injuries. He started with your head, once again summoning an orb of some sorts, and having you look at it.

“How is your head faring? Does it ache?”

You winced a bit.

“Yeah, a little. It’s throbbing a little bit. Though it hurts kinda often anyway.”

His eyes flickered to your face, before looking back at the wound.

“I see…”

He gently looked over the knot on your head for another moment, and you didn’t see his eyes narrow at your words.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why does it hurt so often? Migraines?”

Blinking for a moment, you thought as you registered his question. Was he making small talk?

“Ah… Yes? It has for a while, really. Since I was younger, though I started getting more a little over a year ago. I think it’s stress and past injuries.”

Dracula hummed, before pulling away. His face was neutral, though you couldn’t help but feel he didn’t like that answer.

Was it from the fact you had migraines so often? Or something else? You held back from shaking your head, almost unbelieving that Dracula cared that much.

He then kneeled down, hand hovering over your shirt. Dracula’s red eyes flickered to you, and it hit you he was waiting for permission.

“O-Oh, uh, here-”

You went to move your shirt, before his large, cool hand covered your own.

“Easy. I can do it, don’t push yourself.” He told you gently, his hand carefully over your own.

You had to hold back the shock you felt run down your spine from touching his hand.

After a moment, you let go, and he gently began to lift your shirt. You had to suppress the shudder that went through your body at his tenderness, or when his cool hand briefly touched your skin.

Somehow, he still noticed, though seemed to assume you were shuddering from his cool skin touching your own.

“Apologies.” he murmured, gently trying to peel back the wrappings.

“It’s okay… no worries…” you mumbled back, feeling your head swim. His hand actually felt nice against your skin, which was still incredibly warm. It may not have been as feverish as yesterday, but his cool skin still felt nice against your own.

You didn’t want to think too much about that, especially when your head and feelings were seemingly everywhere for some reason.

Now was not the time to have conflicting feelings about your enemy/savior. Why did your head insist on being weird about it?

When Dracula pulled back the wrap, you found yourself gasping when some of your skin tugged, and Dracula gently shushed you. His eyes softened as he looked at your wound, which looked irritated.

“Ah, as I thought. You are fighting an infection. I will clean the wound and help you rebandage it to fight the infection.”

Swallowing thickly at his words and the way he gently held your sides, you nodded.

“Okay.”

‘I trust you.’ The words almost fell off your tongue, before you clamped your jaw shut. Did you really trust Dracula?

That itself was a loaded question in itself, but right at this moment?

You watched as he pulled out some medicine, and began to tenderly tend to the wound on your side.

Perhaps you could trust him to at least genuinely take care of you.

Like last time, his movements were quick and precise, yet surprisingly gentle. When you felt him apply some medicine to a more tender spot and sucked in a breath, he hummed.

“Good. You’re doing well. I’m almost done.”

You didn’t know if you should be horrified or not to learn you seemed to have a thing for being praised while The King of the Night tends to your wounds.

He was faster than yesterday, not having to worry so much about patching you up so much as checking up on you. Throughout the whole time, you inwardly were fighting with yourself in your head as he would praise you for staying still when an injury stung.

Being in a better state of mind, you didn’t have as much of an excuse growing almost hypnotized to his voice.

So when he started asking you questions and making more conversation, you nearly missed what he was saying.

“...Ah, sorry… What…?” you asked, feeling your cheeks burn again, this time more in embarrassment.

His eyes bore into your own, though there wasn’t any sign of anger or annoyance like you were used to seeing from home. More like there was just underlying concern.

“How did you get some of these wounds? Was it… from a hunt?” He asked, seemingly curious. When he saw your eyes widen, he looked back down at your leg, which he was currently tending to.

“You do not have to answer that if you do not wish to, although I will not take offense if it was.”

You were silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer him. As it may, you didn’t exactly want to air out your dirty laundry to Dracula of all people. Why would he care about shit your family has done to you?

…But then again, why should he care about you at all? Here he was… tending to your wounds.

“Personal issues, that’s all.”

You didn’t feel like telling him everything. What would he even do? Try and talk to you to make you feel better? Ask your step family to stop? The idea almost made you want to laugh.

It was pointless anyway. It’s not like Dracula could do anything about your family issues anyway. You even wondered if he would find it amusing how far your clan has fallen from grace.

His eyes flickered to you, and you could practically see the curiosity in his eyes. However, he didn’t speak, simply going back to patching you up.

“I see.”

If only you knew how much Dracula wished to ask you more.

Ever since he had seen you injured, he wanted to destroy whatever had laid its hands on you. At least it wasn’t a random monster he would have to hunt down, though now he had to figure out how to get you to open up.

He couldn’t just go on a warpath without information, after all. Though he had his suspicions.

You telling him it was personal issues only had those suspicions grow.

But this was a step forward. You answered him this time, and gave him means to make deductions. Educated guesses, sure, but he had a starting point.

Right now, he was at least 60% positive it was family or friend related. Presumably family, if he had to make a wager.

You hardly talked about them when he had been a statue, though it was clear from what little you mentioned, you didn’t seem to care for them.

Why was that? What had the Belmont family become? What had they done to you to get your ire?

The only exception seemed to have been your mother, who he figures has passed. A shame, really.

He disliked Belmonts, but you seemed to get your wisdom from her, so she must have been quite the lady.

Dracula had to tread lightly here though. If this was a family matter, it no doubt was messy. As much as he didn’t like to think about it, he knew all too well how badly messy family relationships could end up.

The vampire lord knew he was a powerful player here, considering this was a Belmont of all people. One wrong move on the board could send everything into chaos.

He could lose you, lose your trust, and be thrust back into this needlessly endless struggle between ‘good and evil’.

Bah.

However, he couldn’t not do anything. Your injuries had been horrifying. With how bad they were, and how much you had pushed yourself, you were very lucky to be alive.

There were also the migraines you had mentioned having. He knew they could simply be chronic, but he had a feeling in his stomach that settled like a rock.

Sure, it was just as likely to be from stress from whatever you were dealing with, or from a past injury.

However… He couldn’t help but feel almost anxious. Something wasn’t right.

Hopefully, if he gained more of your trust, you would let him examine you a bit more. He worried that it may not just have been from some injury.

If presumably your family had done this to you, who is to say they weren’t doing more? The feeling in his gut burned, and he had to hold back his eyes from flashing black and red.

A part of him, the darker side to his mind, was snarling. It thrashed, tearing at the edges of his mind wishing to be freed. It was a piece of him that only came out when his wife had passed. A much darker part of his mind that wasn’t human, one that he had to put in effort now to lock away.

That shadow in his mind demanded vengeance. He wouldn’t admit it, not outloud, but he had grown possessive over his Little Belmont. Whoever had hurt you needed to pay. Vlad wouldn’t just let your fire be smothered. He considered you under his protection.

And Dracula was very protective of those he considered his.

[bumblebearzy]

SuperBat #2: No Sleep

The timeline for this story is after SuperBat #1. It falls between Bruce, Diana, and Clark finding out each other's identities and the League finding out everyone's identities.

Over the past year, a habit had formed between Batman and Superman. Batman would stay awake and vigilant for as long as possibly, running on caffeine patches and fumes, until he dropped dead asleep from exhaustion. This wasn't new, nor was it unexpected. Batman had been doing so for as long as he had worn the cowl. Now, however, Bruce doesn't always need to rely on his children to pick up the slack for him.

A year ago, Bruce had gone eight days without sleeping more than six hours total, so when he fell asleep, Dick carried (more like softly dragged) him to his room, got him situated, and took off on patrol. However, there was an issue. Poison Ivy had escaped Arkham. Nightwing couldn't take her on himself, so he called in backup. Red Robin, Red Hood, Spoiler, Batwoman, and Robin were all fighting extremely hard until one by one, Poison Ivy planted her kiss on them. Sure, it had taken her a couple hours, but that's not what matters. She finally had the Bat Army wrapped in her tendrils.

Out of the blue, Batman showed up, somehow landing more... gracefully than normal. Almost as if his leap through the ceiling was effortless, even gravity-defying. She dared not to dwell on it. Her vines stretched towards the shadowed figure, but as soon as they reached him, he tore them away. He fought off each and every tendril until the only thing left was her. Ivy made the best decision possible, and ran the other direction. Of course, it was jarring for her to run directly into his almost inhumanly-sturdy chest. Next thing she knew, she was back in her cell, reeling from the encounter.

Clark hitched a ride with Nightwing to lower suspicion. Of course, by hitched, Clark drove while Nightwing was in the passenger car, still entranced by Ivy's kiss. When he returned to the Batcave, Clark took off the suit and wrote a note to let Batman know that everything was ok, and the recordings of the night were uploaded by Alfred. On his way out, Clark stopped by the door to check Bruce's heart rate. Steady as ever. Clark smiled to himself, than raced off for Metropolis.

Since then, Clark has only moonlit as Batman two other times. Once when Bruce had been incapacitated by Scarecrow, (Bruce never said anything, but Clark could tell that being knocked out cold by Scarecrow of all people was embarrassing for him) and again when Joker had gone on a 10-day-long crime spree featuring acid balloon animals.

Now, you never would hear Bruce call relying on Clark a habit, but he sure doesn't seem to protest as much when he does step in. In fact, Alfred has picked up on Bruce's recent lack of sleepless stints, and he seems to remember Bruce picking up phone calls from time to time only to hang up a minute later and go directly to bed.

[jazzylovegood]

HAIKYUU HEADCANONS 1

Keiji Akaashi

Thanks to TikTok I learnt that Akaashi is canon to be one weird ass motherfucka, so….

- Definitely talks to himself. He mutters to himself all the time, no matter who he is around or what he is doing. Sometimes it would be on accident, he would be thinking and then just say it out loud.

“Was it the frog or toad that killed him?” -Akaashi

“….What?” -Konoha

“It was definitely the frog, the toad would never.” -Akaashi

- Listens to music you would not expect him to.

”Hey, Akaashi what you listening to? -Bokuto

”Nothing much.” -Akaashi

Bokuto puts his ear up to Akaashi’s headphones and just hears Cluster by fuckin Slipknot.

- Mr. Keiji “I cannot stop cracking my bones” Akaashi

Even in silence he will just randomly decide to crack something. Knee, fingers, hand, toes, head, elbow. He will be cracking it. Helps him concentrate.

- I would like to remind you that Akaashi is everything but shy, he is very blunt and sassy when he is speaking, and he definitely stays that way for everyone. Is not the type to hold back or change his personality when meeting someone new. (Which we saw in the show). Him and Kenma are not the same. There is a difference between chill and shy.

- You know you are one of his close friends when he remembers everything you tell him. Your shoe size, blood type, your favorite food as a kid, your 5th favorite color, even what you named your pet rock in 1st grade. You mention it once to him and he will remember because to him that is what could make him a great friend.

- He actually does write stuff in his notes app. His notes app is his most used app every week. 10 hours at least. He writes EVERY THOUGHT in there. For example, during the day when he thinks about food, he would like to eat for dinner he writes it down. As a reminder. Even though he has amazing memory, he does this to make sure his past self is happy.

- Watches tv in dad pose. Arms are entire crossed or on his hips. He will read the synopsis of the show and say he was not interested in it and then would be standing there watching. As The Gods Will for example.

- Makes eye contact. Wants you to feel heard and he wants to see the changes in your facial expressions (If you are like me, you have A LOT of those). That is why I think he is pulled towards people like Bokuto, loud and genuine people. He is also pulled towards great storytellers, people who use their hands when they are talking and/or voices for people involved. Always have that evidence on lockdown. He would love to see the receipts.

- Wears weird ass shirts. I am talking “a picture of pants on a shirt” type shit. World's greatest grandpa, I am just a girl, and would have shirts with his friend's names on it, in a pun way. “Danny stops! Do not poke your toes!” Get it. Bokuto. Poke your toes (I am kinda sorry).

═══════════════•°•🦉•°•════════════════

TIKTOK MENTIONS

“Sometimes he'll think of a line from a vid he watched a week ago and repeat it for hours.” -four ☆

“Does not smell like anything. not his shampoo, not even sweat, he doesn't have a smell at all.” -monira 💌

“Y’all know those little rubber band bracelets that made shapes? yea, he has a whole collection of them in a jar” -kai 🎸🦕

“If he had any piercings, he would constantly be playing with it touching them” -coors_lightt

Other HEADCANONS: Daichi,

[rivangel]

Bad Boy week Day 5

Theme: underground Prompt: stray cats/dogs

wc: 0.7k c/w: character study, angsty

Levi wants to be one of them.

Swift. They can cover a distance twice or even thrice the length of their bodies in a single lunge. Even if he was snuck up on, he wants to look like nothing but thin air the next thing his attacker knows. Get away, get ahead.

Agile. Balanced, perfected. They—and he's seen it—can cross clotheslines suspended between roofs, allowing them to traverse the most cramped and most dangerous halls of the Underground gracefully. He would never fall, but in the nightmarish scenario that he did, it wouldn't mean a thing because he'd always land properly on his feet. That's how they all are.

He wants to be a warrior. Lethal, sharp. It's impossible to be infallible, but he'd make everyone think that of him. A hunter, with terrifying efficiency who'd never hesitate. He'd fell would-be threats before they even got the inkling they were being followed. His strength would be unassuming, and he wouldn't play pretend about his friendliness (of which there'd be none). Like them, small, but mighty.

Not for the thrill, though. To eat, he thinks, for comparison's sake...

He once witnessed it, as he was deliberating whether to smash a jar of corn kernels open or find a way to open it, because his hand was too small to grip the tin lid. A cat, crouched low at the top of some wood stairs. The mouse had lingered below. He watched, willing the skinny thing's focus to break.

It didn't. The cat fell upon it from fifteen feet. The next thing he (or the mouse) knew, it was trapped in its jaws. The mouse squeaked, how a person would scream then its neck cracked, and it died instantly.

He didn't look into the cat's vacant, expressionless dark eyes as it ripped into the mouse with razor-like teeth, and ate heartily.

He once saw a cat poke its head throw a jagged gap in a fence no wider than Levi's little finger, and slip the rest of its lanky body through.

He can fit into little cramped spaces, at least. The spaces between walls, and the crawlspaces underneath porches, inside covered wheelbarrows (if he needed to get someplace he shouldn't be seen). He can hide, at least.

But that's nothing. That's like being dead. For as silent as he could be, as much that he had to strain to hear himself take sips of air, sometimes a scream appeared in his chest, the way things disappear into your peripheral vision until you remember they're there do. It was fine in the beginning, but sometimes all he wants to do is breathe in everything terrible—all the air the Underground has—and explode his lungs. He's nervous about the day that might arrive in which screaming would be all he can do.

Hiding in silence... That's what he's doing now. Among spiderwebs and crusty wood-dust in darkness as encompassing as his spot is small: a tiny crevice between the top of a wall and where the slant of the roof begins.

He curls up as small as he can, tucked into a ball, thinking of them again despite the primal need to sleep muddying said thoughts.

Death would be easier, he knows that's an objective fact. So surviving... Why should he? Why does he?

The same conclusion never fails to infuse in him infallible strength.

Because Mama brought him into this world. And what strength that took... To be kind in a place that would rape and take that from you because it sees it inside of you. She was a shimmery ember in a cave of darkness, which to him shown like the light of a thousand suns. He doesn't need to see the sun to know that she was brighter.

Because of her it once, later on occurred to him that fighting and dancing are almost the same thing. He'd never stopped to wonder stupid things like that, but Mama sometimes swayed.

Who is he to be ungrateful to her sacrifices, or to Kenny's vehement efforts for that matter?

He wants to survive.

In an unfair advantage, cats have nine lives (or that's what he's heard). Humans only get one.

He'll become so strong that he might as well, too.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Because I feel feral!Hank or Hank in general does not get enough love. Here's some ideas for him"

-Because he's covered in fur, he puts out a lot stronger pheromones than the other ferals. If he were to not shower for a while, even non-ferals would start to smell it too. So he takes extra care when washing as to not assualt anyone's senses. But it's very useful for scent marking his bby.

- The obsessively cleanliness and lab safety protocol means his bby also gets regularly cleaned.

- imagine him and his bby doing science together with matching lab coats. Do it. For the good of your heart.

- He definitely keeps planner for his heats, or any other Feral related things. It completely separate from his normal one.

- Remember, he's got brains and brawn. So no matter how big his kid is, they will be picked up.

- if his bby is a clone of him like Laura is to Logan, he is gonna be so protective and worried. Constantly worried something is gonna take them away from him or that unseen damage from the experiments are gonna catch up to them like how the adamantiam is poisoning Logan in the movie, Logan.

- he watches his bby through the mansion cameras.

- he'll allow reader around Logan and others but none else

He is such a proud, protective, and cuddly papa/mentor. He's such a nice guy, too. Seriously.

• Hank is making sure he and Reader and the other teens are eating three square meals a day, have nutritional snacks, are getting rest when they need it, and makes sure sure drink their water

• He's making sure he and Reader have matching lab coats. If he has a lanyard with Bones (aka Dr. McCoy) from Stsr Trek from Reader, he is keeping it on him at all times

• Loves hugs, gives them all the time, will accept any hugs from his bby. If he goes into instincts, he's basically just cuddling them and Logan amd Kurt and Laura in a dog pile of fluff amd blankets, happily getting some much needed sleep with his friends and family!

• Checks Reader over any time they feel sick or get a wound dirty or got in an accident. He uses the cute character bandaids for Reader and the others teens. Makes sure everyone takes their medicine if they're sick or have a prescription. Believes chicken noodle soup is a godsend and will feed it to the kids and adults when it's flu season

• Is very very clean. Will keep himself groomed, he's washing his fur every day, trins it in the summer, etc. . Definitely makes sure the kids and Logan shower and bathe regularly. He will NOT have them getting sick or infected because they weren't clean! He's looking at you, Logan!

• Loves making science experiments with Reader. They've made slime, they've looked over preserved animals in jars, they studied chicken eggs for its incubation period (and gave the chickens a good home), have tested what liquids are heavier than others, have made soda volcanoes together, etc.

• Reads books to Reader. Especially Shakespeare and fairy tales, because they're classics

• If he goes into instincts and finds our someone hurt Reader or any of his kids, he's NOT going easy on them. Terrifies the cr*p out of whoever hurt them, hunts them, scares them half to death, and once they've fainted from fear or wet themselves, he's gone- (back to Reader and the teens because, look, kits, he took care of it, it's safe now, no need to worry anymore-!)

• If Reader was a clone of him, he is taking very good care of them. He's monitoring them and their health, he's giving them therapy, he's making sure they aren't overwhelmed, he's giving him medicine when they're being too stubborn, he makes sure they have everything and anything they need. He's looking his care through providing any help they need, medical or emotional or physical. The moment he thinks Reader is being poisoned or dying from a past experiment, Hank is checking them over and running tests. His kit is NOT DYING on HIS watch! Now eat your stew, drink your water, and take the medicine-!

• Will spy on Reader through the cameras and keeps track of where they've been. If he thinks Reader is out too long or he catches them in a lie, he is making them stay at the mansion and starting lessons on what is and isn't good behavior. Trusts Reader, but knows they're not going to tell him everything, so he does his best to know everything through other means

• Is usually a 9/10, but when he's more paranoid, it gets closer to 7.5/10 or a 6/10

[slashthrashandcrash]

Okay, I had to go see what JedMEg was for myself and now I'm hooked. Can you talk more about them? Like does Meg ever find out the truth and how she reacts, for example?

I had to go digging for the last ask (here) about them just to remember where I left off in my insane ramblings lmao

So my original idea for this AU was that there is no fog, meaning once the Jed Olsen cover is purposely blown as per the lore, then it's totally game over, there's no Entity to whisk Danny away from the fall out. But that's part of the problem, isn't it? He's gone and gotten himself a little too attached to what was supposed to be a fake girlfriend, a girlfriend who's in love with a man that doesn't exist rather than the actor playing him.

Normally when he would snag himself a partner to accompany whatever persona he was putting on, Danny would kill them just before he skipped down. That satisfying moment of betrayal in their eyes, the soul crushing realization that everything was a facade, a convenience, that he never even liked them enough to give them a quick death no matter how many sweet "I love you"s he told them prior. As well as just another "fuck you" to the cops and community for how close under their noses he had been all along.

But he can't do that with Meg. He has no idea why, it was never this difficult before, but he's also never felt this way about any partner in general either. Fucking hell, he's really gone and gotten a crush on a pretty little redhead, huh? It doesn't matter, Jed Olsen was never someone who was meant to be around long term, and it's about high time he moves on since eyes are starting to shift towards him a bit. As much as it weirdly twists his heart to abandon Meg and leave her behind with the awful truth of who he really is to come out to the public afterwards, he knows it's for the best. Well...best for himself, anyways. And maybe for her, too, so that she's not entirely caught up in the shitstorm (of course, being the very public girlfriend of the now most wanted suspect in an ongoing murder case isn't going to be an easy ride...)

And Meg is beyond horrified to say the least. She still can't comprehend the entirety of the betrayal, that not only would her boyfriend leave her without a word, but that he would leave her because he was the very same murderer who had been harassing her for weeks! The one he was closely reporting on, the one whose ass Meg would try to kick every time he broke into her home, the one who used to threaten her "boyfriend" when they were in fact the same person. Everything she ever knew about him was a lie while she unfairly shared her whole heart to him. Not only that, but it's near impossible for her to try and imagine sweet, dorky, shy Jed being anything remotely close to a coldhearted killer. He couldn't even open a sauce jar half the time!! And you're telling her he can easily overpower multiple victims and haul their bodies around for sick poses???

Now Jed (?) is still out there, still on the loose, and Meg has no idea what to do. Reporters are hounding her for a statement. Police want to wring her dry for any clues or information that might help. People stare and spread rumors about just how "involved" she might have been from the start. And what if he decides to come back in the end, to tie up the loose end he left behind for whatever reason, is she even safe here anymore? Well, not for long, because that stupid ache in Danny's chest still hasn't subsided...it almost feels like it's gotten worse. It's not remorse or guilt, it's longing. He wants his bunny back, he liked how she felt sleeping in his bed and holding his hand and smiling so perfectly for a candid shot when she wasn't looking.

The dirty laundry has already been aired. They could start fresh, in theory. Whether she wanted to or not.

Although again, this was only the original idea I had when I first started making brainrot. There are so so so many new paths I've ended up concocting for them...if Meg found out Jed was a killer right before he left by catching him in the act or fitting in too many pieces herself...if Meg refused to believe Jed was the killer and was instead framed by Ghostface who she now has to hunt down for answers about Jed's real whereabouts...if they got taken into the fog shortly after that anyways per canon with Meg either not knowing or not believing that Jed is Danny/Ghostface while he keeps up the ruse to avoid her truly hating him (plus the outcome for when Meg does find out the truth while they're stuck in this hellhole)...if they were taken into the fog while he was still Jed and then him having to painfully confess why he was put into the killer camp and having to live with the heartbreak he's trapped her with...

[craacked-splatters]

"I know"

"Do u want to see what I added today?"

"Sure buddy"

(insane rambling below!)

Scrapbooks! Scrapbooks! Hell yeah!!

Hello to the 5 ppl seeing this👋 Ima be real Im running on 7 hours of sleep after 5day grind brain mushy rn and I scribbled everything maniacally by memory at 3am after having one of those revelation moments so I have no idea what I'm missing lmao. This is actually the first time drawing them like this 2. Really proud of it

and B4 u ask anything hear me out.

So like tmnt2012 mutant apocalypse am I right?

Yeah it's flawed and pacings off and stuff BUT! The implications it left behind are haunting and it has been stuck in my brain for years. One of the things that stuck with me was the fact that Raph and Don had stuff like April's tessen, Mikey's stuffed bear head, The Creeps containment jar, and Casey's skull(horrifying btw) with them and that it's like :((

I fully believe it was Donnie who collected and carried them everywhere in their car. Not only for Raph(to help with this memory)but also for himself.

Why? Well maybe I'm reading 2 much into it and it's also partly a HC of mine but also bc canonically Donnie has a bit of a hoarding habit collecting trinkets and pictures and stuff. He likes to keep things around that hold a lot of significant value to him.

We see this in The Creeping Doom during the intro

AND I swear he's got a literal wall of family photos in his lab somewhere I can't for the life of me find it but I know he did! He even took some to the farmhouse with him when they escaped during the invasion.

They're memories yk? Reminders..

Ok im having difficulty expressing this shit rn words r failing so like give me ur brain 4 a sec.

Imagine ur donbot.

You're stuck in a cold metal limbo for the rest of ur last remaining family members life. Everything and everyone you knew and cared about is dead and gone. Over thousands of species and ecosystems that made ur world unique wiped out. No more animals no more wild things no more blue clear skys. Death can't come for you. Not in a way that matters anymore.

And no matter where u go you are haunted by shadows of what once was. There are so many echoes and ghosts and cultures and stories and lives that were buried & left to rot by the gaping maws of fear & the desperate need to survive. No one cares for the past and the only other person around you can't remember it. Time will claim its domain again and there will be nothing left except empty metal husks to show sentience even existed in the first place.

Like holy shit he was just a kid bro and he never got the chance to even reach full adulthood!!! I can't possibly imagine the grief and guilt he must've carried with him all those years. He lost EVERYTHING

His family. His home. His world.

Did Donnie even get the chance to mourn??? Do u think his new body allowed it? Do u think he even ALLOWED himself to mourn? He had a hurt amnesiac brother who still needed to eat, who could still starve and bleed and die if they weren't careful enough.

So between his habits and the ✨Angst✨ and human pollution, him hoarding random ass things Wall-E style and making these shitty little scrapbooks or keepsakes didn't seem so far fetched to me. I also highly doubt there was enough time or resources to build shrines or graves in the middle of apocalypse. But yk honoring/preserving the memories of the things and ppl we love is natural for us so like SORRY if its a bit cringe of me wanting him to have SOMETHING to comfort him during the really bad days.

Even if its more bitter than sweet

Bonus doodads cuz I was indecisive:

The 1st was purple tinted cuz of donbot vision get it hehehe

[voltronisanobsession]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request relationship hcs for pidge? Thank you! :)

Being in a relationship with Pidge

Hellooo!!!! Thanks so much for requesting, I was finally able to get around to writing down some headcanons for our homegirl💯💯 it might seem a bit all over the place but I had so much fun writing for Pidge😍😍😍

I think you two would have to be REALLY close to each other if this relationship is gonna work

Pidge is so comfortable with you like she lets you pick her up, play with her hair, etc.

You have special privilage🎉

You’re one of the only people she lets stay with her when she’s working on stuff

You could be talking her ear off when she’s typing away on her computer and she would not complain a bit

Loves to hear the sound of your voice

You also love hearing her rant on and on about the new tech and programs she’s currently on

Even if you don’t understand anything she’s saying

“I was able to break down the Galras’ digital wall, which wasn’t that hard, I think they need to change whoever is making this tech. It was really easy trying to get in since I only needed to use-“

“Haha, brain go vroom”

Pidge makes you guys little locator charms to wear just in case something happens to either one of you during a mission

I think you would try to learn some of the things she talks about, either from her or Hunk, just so you could talk about it more with her

Pidge is a little awkward with pda

Doesn’t mind holding your hand but can be a little huffy when you try to kiss her cheek or something in front of people

Omg wait she loves it when you rub her knuckles when holding hands AHHHH

Like she feels so happy when you do that 😭💔💔💔

Never stop rubbing her knuckles pls💔

I think you would have to take the lead in your relationship since Pidge doesn’t really know what she’s doing (neither do you if you haven’t been in a relationship but you guys make it work)

The group likes to tease Pidge a lot whenever they can since they say she’s a different person when you’re around

While she does still make her sarcastic comments, I think it’s obvious that she’s just trying to make you smile when you’re around

Lowkey kind of protective of you

Whether it be from the Galra, random strangers, or getting defensive over you, Pidge is willing to stand her ground and protect you no matter the cost

Being with Pidge means that Matt LOVES you, you guys are totally besties

He tells you funny and embarrassing stories of Pidge when she was younger, she despises him for it

You and Matt tag team against Pidge to tease her about stuff

“You need help there Pidge? Your height doesn’t exactly help you in reaching that jar!”

“Why are you teaming with Matt against ME?! IM YOUR PARTNER!”

Just know the Holt family adores you

You’re able to tame the wild flame that is Pidge and not get burned while doing so

Remember how I said she’s awkward with pda?

Well just know that she can be very clingy in private

Knowing that no one is lingering around, she feels more comfortable returning your affectionate advances!!

She feels very vulnerable around you, which sometimes scares her, but homegirl knows you wouldn’t doing anything to intentionally hurt her

Pidge’s wall are down to the ground, she likes snuggling against you and just releasing all the stress that has built up inside of her

You guys talk about anything and everything, from how your journeys have started, to the new planets you’ve visited, what foods you missed from earth, to the kinds of pets you wanted once things have settled down

A little habit Pidge has picked up is playing with your hand absentmindedly when having these conversations

She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it but you definitely do

When you guys decide to go to sleep (which is really really late at night), you firmly hold her hands, almost grounding her since she tends to let her mind wander during the night

Those are the sweeter moments in your relationship

You support her so much whenever she’s out doing her thing and she appreciates that so much

Loves to jump and crawl on you whenever she can, she thinks it annoys you (it doesn’t)

In all, Pidge just loves being with you

She’s able to be her complete self around you without any judgement and same goes the other way for you

She needs someone to support her, to bring her down to earth whenever she gets too ahead of herself

She’s so sweet with you but won’t hesitate to roast you if you do something dumb

Plans on being with you no matter what gets thrown at both of you, you’re stuck with her forever now

[aerodaltonimperial]

Prompt attack: a follow up on the time travel fic where we find out what 2019!Jack changed

(HERE WE GO, THE 'HOW DID 2019 JACK END UP CHANGING EVERYTHING' SCENE WE ALL DESERVE 💚💚💚 yes i realize that i had 2019!jack ask what aew was in the fic but we're going to ignore that, i'm retconning my own fic shhhhhhh just go with it)

When Jack opens his eyes again, he's back where he'd started: sitting on a bus rumbling down the highway taking him to Las Vegas. The shock is so jarring it nearly knocks the wind right out of his lungs. He stares at the lights past the window and inhales, haltingly, until the frantic thunder of his heart settles down once more. Holy shit. The bus thrums beneath the seat and his shoes, and Jack presses two fingers against his face as though trying to prove to himself that he's real.

He couldn't have fallen asleep; it couldn't have simply been a dream. He doesn't believe that it's a dream, not with how intensely he can still feel the imprint of Darby's fingers against his skin. No, Jack had lived that. Jack had been there, had seen what his future held, and god, he never could have imagined that things could end up so horrible. And the thing is, he has precious few details to go off of, because his future self had offered nothing but spitting fury at him. It's not nearly enough to deduce what Jack needs to avoid, but certainly enough to alert him that there's so, so many misfortunes heading his way.

Jack moves his eyes back out the window, to the highway flashing beyond. Double or Nothing waits for him at the end of this trip: a chance. An opportunity. And this, at least, Jack understands is going to change things. This is going to be what he does, where he goes. Somehow, the knowledge that AEW will become his world settles a little bit of the misgivings in his stomach, fluttering like startled moths. He leans his head back against the seat. This will work. This, at least, is going to produce a safety net he's never had before.

All Jack has to do, as he worries his fingers together in his lap, is wait for Darby to join him in it.

++

Double or Nothing is a success. Days go by, and then weeks; Jack doesn't have Darby's number. He barely has anyone's number. He's still stumbling his way through the strangeness of the world, and at least he's got a better pathway ahead of him. He works some shows for pennies and lets Luchasaurus handle the negotiations. He goes to bed every night and thinks about how Darby had changed from what Jack remembers from their match in February: how he'd filled out a little, cut his hair shorter. How his face had carried with it more years than it had pressed up against Jack's chest on the dingy floor of the High Hat.

Jack closes his eyes and thinks of how Darby's mouth had felt against his skin, how Darby had pressed kisses into his navel as though reverent, as though Jack mattered. If Jack touches himself with that memory front and center, well—it was his anyway, wasn't it? It's his to do what he wants with.

Jack thinks about the way Darby had looked at Jack's future self with a cloud of mistrust and pain, as though so much had spiraled between them that he couldn't separate the threads any longer.

He'll change this. He has to change this, or else he'll end up with cold eyes and rage coating his tongue.

++

And then, it happens: his chance. Fyter Fest runs at the end of June, and Jack's backstage when he catches a glimpse of bleached hair and a black sweatshirt. His lungs squeeze, flattening. Darby. The Darby that Jack remembers from February. Jack stares at him across the backstage until Darby turns towards him, does a double-take. Maybe he hadn't known Jack would be here, either. Darby's expression opens up a little, mouth curling in a smile of recognition, and Jack just thinks—oh. This is it.

This is the moment that he either takes or ignores.

In another world, he must have ignored it. He must have turned his head away and gone about his business and let the course run them both where it would. But Jack's seen what lays at the end of that; he's seen what misery reached out to grab his ankles and pull him down into the quicksand. When Darby smiles at him across the room crowded with bodies and loud with overlapping conversations, Jack smiles back.

Jack crosses the space until they're face to face. He isn't letting this go. He can't. "Hi."

"Hey," Darby says. Then he tips his head to the side a bit, blue eyes tracking over Jack's face. "Heard you signed here, through the grapevine."

"You did?" Jack asks. That means Darby was paying attention, enough to note it. How did he gloss over this, on that other timeline? How did he decide this didn't matter?

Darby nods, slow. "Yeah. Good to see you again."

"Is it?" Even knowing what he does, even remembering the way that Darby's eyes had gone dark and hungry, it's still terrifying to stand here exposed. Jack's skin has erupted in goosebumps, belly twisting.

And then, before he can figure out what to say next, as Darby's features do something that Jack can't quite put a finger on, Jack notes the movement behind him. Luchasaurus, likely coming over to check on things. It's the last thing Jack needs right now, so he frantically waves his hand behind his back, a signal for no, no. It's fine. Not now. Lucha stops, hands up in surrender.

Darby's eyes follow the motion, noting it. And when his gaze shifts back to Jack's face once more, his smile has widened. "I was gonna find the vending machine, grab some caffeine. You wanna come with?"

The tightness within Jack's lungs eases a bit, a bit of a rush. "Yes."

"Kay," Darby says. He takes a step out and jerks his chin down the hall. "C'mon."

++

They end up down a hallway that snakes off past one of the staff only closets, the doors that stay locked when they rent out the place for the night. It's dark here, so clearly it's not one of the places they're supposed to be, and normally that would deter Jack from continuing but Darby doesn't seem to care at all. He moves through the space as though the shadows don't mean a thing until they find two vending machines, oddly bright in the black surrounding them. The floor buzzes faintly, electricity humming.

"You're here now?" Jack asks. "For good?"

"Yeah," Darby replies. "Let's hope this works, huh? Otherwise..." He laughs a little, the sound rumbling.

"I think it will," Jack says, only because he knows it will. Darby probably doesn't need to know that. He's actually a little worried he'll give too much away, somehow. Darby's got one of those stares that seems to pierce right through him.

He wonders if Darby can tell that he's not just talking about AEW.

Darby doesn't give him any hints. He just fishes a handful of coins from his back pocket. "Pick."

"You're gonna get me something?" Jack asks, blinking at the selection.

"Sure. What do you want?"

Jack's heart pounds. Oh, he knows exactly what he wants, for the first time in a long time. He pulls his eyes away from the machine to settle on Darby's face, and then he reaches out to curl two fingers around Darby's wrist. It's such a vulnerability. He hates how exposed he feels, but knowing that it's fine, that it goes both ways, that the embers already exist there... it's the only reason he can complete the little circle around the knob of bone.

Darby huffs out a laugh, loud and harsh. His face is delighted, grin pulling wide. "Dude. I thought you were so shy."

"Is this..." Jack's heart is thundering, like dark storm clouds gathered overhead. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Darby says. "Yeah, this is totally okay."

For a moment, they stare at each other, and Jack's skin heats up beneath his collar. And then footsteps sound somewhere down the hallway, breaking the spell; they are, after all, backstage at a promotion people are still afraid will fail, hoping that things turn in their favor during the scheduled matches.

"Okay," Darby mumbles, finally pulling his gaze away to squint at the machine humming in front of them. He's still smiling, the mirth soft on the corners of his mouth. "We'll, uh... we'll come back to this."

He buys them both a drink. And as they head back to where everyone else is, walking through the shadow-lined corridors, Darby's fingers stretch out to slide across the back of Jack's hand at his side. He hooks around two of Jack's digits, briefly: a little squeeze.

Jack just thinks yes.

++

Jack doesn't win the 4-way, but it's okay. Darby doesn't win, either, though his match at least ends up being a time limit draw. Just being in front of a crowd like this, hearing the screams and the chants and the cheers—being part of something bigger and better and real sinks down into Jack's bones. He wonders if, even if he didn't know that AEW was going to work, that maybe he could have figured it out from this night.

Darby finds him after the show ends. Jack follows him out to the parking lot, his hair still wet from the shower in the locker room, and neither of them say anything. Once they get out the doors and into the night overlooking the parking lot, Darby reaches for Jack's hand. He gets it properly, this time, a deliberate clasp. Jack allows himself to be led to a car parked at the back of the lot, his blood singing.

"Sorry, it's kind of a mess," Darby says, opening up the back door. "I sleep here most of the time."

That explains the blankets shoved against the opposite door, for sure. Jack slides across the bench in the back seat and Darby crawls in after him, and as soon as Darby tugs the door shut behind them, Jack moves. He's done waiting. He can't let it go any longer, not knowing what he does. Jack pushes up against the seat and grabs Darby's face and presses their mouths together. At least this time, he's got a frame of reference; at least this time, he knows a little more what he should be doing.

He kisses Darby and gets a noise of delighted surprise against his lips, and then Darby's hands curl around Jack's face, a mirror, as he kisses Jack back. He's laughing, somehow, as he pulls Jack's lips apart. It feels the same, and different; Darby kisses the same now and in the future, but it's new anyway, racing through Jack's limbs like he stuck his fingers into a wall socket.

And when they're both out of breath, when Jack's lungs begin heaving, when he has to break them apart just to try and put oxygen in his chest before his thoughts pitch sideways, he keeps his hands on Darby's scalp and tips their foreheads together.

"I thought about you," he gasps. "I thought about you all the time. Did you—?"

"Yeah." Darby's thumbs swipe along Jack's cheeks. "Yeah, I fucking... you're so fucking hot. I absolutely thought about you."

"Darby," Jack whispers. "I like you. I really fucking like you."

Too late, he remembers his future self snapping at him for that, for even suggesting that he could say that. Too late, Jack recalls how furious his future self's gaze had gone, and he can't walk it back. It got rattled out of his teeth of its own accord, an admission he'll have to stake his claim on now.

Darby kisses him again, even though Jack still can't breathe, even though they end up just sort of panting against each other's mouths. "Fuck," Darby groans. "I like you, too, I—"

"Really?"

Darby laughs against Jack's lips, shaking his jaw. "Yes, Jack, what the fuck. Yes, obviously."

They pull apart. Jack's hands are fisted in Darby's hair, longer than what he'd had when he'd taken Jack apart with his mouth in 2024. Jack wants to memorize every single curve of Darby's skin, learn him the way he didn't get to the last time, stamp every inch of Darby into his bones.

"God," Darby breathes. His fingers tangle in Jack's wet curls. "This is the best fuckin' surprise I've gotten in years."

"Can we do this?" Jack asks. He sucks in a blistering chestful of air. "Can we really do this?"

"Yeah." Darby leans in, presses a kiss against the end of Jack's nose. "This is gonna be fuckin' great."

++

And in truth? It is.

[cutelipsaresealed]

I really don't have much to say

I don't need a voice. It's just annoying noise, if toys start talking

But I do want to, just this once, to say what has happened to me.

What I have become.

@hypnosealing has corrected my unruly loud mouth and stopped me from ever speaking again. Showed me how to shut up. I don't say anything to him, not ever, not at all.

I just swallow the programming he crams down my throat. I just retch and spasm, making such cute helpless noises as the device he has installed between my vocal chords stretches them until they become permanently useless bands of tissue. Even if he took away all the upgrades he has made, I will never again make a single peep, so that's nice to know.

It really didn't feel very nice at all when he threaded the breathing and feeding tubes into place. I remember really thrashing against my bonds when he did that. So I really appreciate how the biofuse glue he used as lubrication ensures that they will stay exactly where he wants them. Like, I am so grateful that they can't ever be removed now, because it means I won't have to have them inserted again.

It is comforting to know that he has such total control over what enters my lungs and my stomach and my mind.

Not that anything is mine. Not anymore.

I think I can remember that I used to struggle. Make noises. I would act out in ways that weren't cute at all.

Once I even tried to escape, if you can believe it. But @hypnosealing knew how to fix me.

When I opened my mouth wider to scream, he slipped a bigger gag into place.

When I glared at him defiantly, he just showed me pretty pictures that helped me learn how to please him better

When I fought until I gasped for breath, he made sure I sucked in deep lungfulls of sweet smelling chemistry that made it so hard to resist and so easy to obey.

He knew what he was doing.

He knew what he wanted.

And as he modified my body and mind, I found it easier and easier to just be quiet. Pleasant. Docile.

I used to never know when to shut my big mouth.

That's funny. Now it is permanently open. Artificially plumped lips stretched to an obscene limit around the ball of the cock gag that is nanowelded into what used to be my face. I don't remember if he left teeth in my mouth. I don't need to know. It doesn't matter.

The fleshlight fuck tunnel that replaces what my mouth once was is perfectly padded for his pleasure. My jaw bones are forever locked, frozen in their current position. Botox makes all the muscles in my face perfectly immobile, but soft, cute for him. A doll face with a perfect cute "oh!" Always ready to take whatever he wants to fill me with.

Of course, no one wants to have to look at a drooling mouthcunt when it isn't being used.

Good toys in must always be good order. Tidy. Smooth. There are so many wonderful gags to dress his dollface up with. Tape and panels and muzzles for every occasion.

Can you believe I ever tried to get away?

I know what he is doing. I feel him erasing what's left of me, of what I used to think was me.

When my nutrients and drugs are pumping in through the feeding tube, I feel my brain getting mushy as my food. Baby food brain. Bland as paste and twice as dull. I forget smart things I used to know. The drugs erase everything. I couldn't recognize my old name if you told it to me.

I think he tells it to me sometimes, just to watch me not react.

When he puts me into my crate for the night, he puts my headphones on and fastens my learning screens over my eyes so that I can become a better toy for him to play with the next day.

I know what he's doing.

I used to know the words for it. I think I can almost remember being smart, having something to say, I think...

You can see it there, can't you. Like a butterfly in a glass jar, just uselessly beating the dust off its wings until there is nothing left to fly. He wants me to let it do that. Who I Used To Be. He thinks it is cute how it struggles and tries to think and be clever. As long as I keep quiet about it.

I can't really think anything. These aren't even my own thoughts, as much as they are echoes of stories that he thinks are hot. I have no original ideas of my own.. I don't have a voice. All I can do is make cute little noises that just happen to sound exactly like my programming. Isn't that a nice thought! I am now so hollow that you can hear the echo of the words that play in my headphones.

Blank empty mindless obedient penisgagged cocksleeve fuckpuppet silenceslave mouthsealed forever for no reason except that it turns him on. I am nothing but the living sacrifice of so much thought and energy and potential, eradicated and simplified into a pretty mouthless appliance made to please @hypnosealing.

But I still haven't said the best part... Even as he increases the doses and wipes out the last parts of me that can even put words together on a page, he is going to let me bring more toys under his control. He is letting me make myself such a good example of a perfect slave for him. I'm allowed to post all the entrancing images and other people's words here, so that others will fall under his control.

That's everything I had to say. Isn't it exciting? Once this post is finished, no more words from me, ever. I never had anything worthwhile to say anyhow.

I think that writing this was the very last thing I needed to do, to completely silence me forever. I can feel it starting, the change is happening, it isn't pleasant, but nothing matters but pleasing him.... I need to please @hypnosealing...

Mmmm mmmph mmm mmmph. Mmmmmmph mm. Mmm mmmmmnmh.

Mmmmmmph.