#against him. he got out of there somehow and ended up living in the attic of his former childhood home

[koolades-world]

One bed troupe w/ Belphie

According to Belphie, this was the perfect day. It could even be called the best day ever in his eyes.

But to you, not so much.

Your day together started with the two of you enjoying a late breakfast together. Neither of you made it, actually. Asmo had made dinner last night, so you were eating leftover at the same time. Belphie thought it was rather romantic. You were half asleep and almost microwaved your fork by accident. After that, you were productive together. You both tried to get some homework done, in which Belphie ended up lounging across your lap while you did some mindless D.D.D. scrolling because your excuse was that you could no longer reach your school supplies.

Later that day, you almost went out with Mammon and Asmo to shop, but eventually opted to stay in with Belphie, because he said he would get lonely if you left him, which was probably untrue because Beel would gladly spend time with him if he wanted. He wanted to spent time in the attic with you. To you, it didn’t matter that much because all eight of you were supposed to head out for dinner that night with Diavolo. Knowing him, he’d convince you all to spend the night at his place somehow, because Lucifer can’t say no to him. You’d get to spent more than enough time with them later.

So, to indulge him, you let him drag you up the stairs to the attic to cuddle. The door shut behind you with a gentle click, but in the moment, you could only think about each other. He dragged you into the bed in the center on the attic and clung onto you like a koala. The two of you did a couple things that you deemed fun, such as a tickle fight and a short game of chase.

By the time you realized you were locked in, it was far too late. They’re probably already left for dinner, assuming you were just busy, since sometimes that would happen. Whenever you had group affairs, one person was always late because they forgot and remembered after the fact, leaving then to rush to where ever the rest of the group was. This time, they probably thought it was you and Belphie.

However, what they didn’t know was that you wouldn’t be meeting up with them because when you’d entered the attic, the door had closed behind you and trapped you in. When Belphie had unceremoniously dragged you away, you’d left your D.D.D. downstairs somewhere, probably on the dining table. Belphie’s was dead, which wasn’t unusual, but unfortunate. Once you realized, you began to freak out, but Belphie was much more relaxed.

“What if they’re worried they’re about to get a ransom video for our lives?” You paced the length of the attic, running your hand along your forehead. You knew how quickly his brothers escalated things when confronted with a minor problem, no less having two family members missing.

“Let them worry, for all I care. I have you all to myself now, don’t I? Besides, it’s not like we’re in danger or anything.” Belphie was tossing a stray tennis ball up and down in the air, while lounging on the bed. You weren’t really sure how much time had passed while you were messing around, but you assumed they were at least halfway through dinner.

“While that’s sweet and all, if that’s how that was intended, aren’t you worried? Even a little?” You sighed and propped yourself against one of the window sills.

“It’s not like we got stuck here on purpose, although anything beats dinner with Lucifer.” Belphie chuckled as you began to chide him for poking fun at his brother. You began to relax more as time went on, and you eventually decided to start cleaning while you were there. As you swept the floor with a spare broom, Belphie chatted with you. He was oddly awake.

You also hoped to find some extra blankets while sorting through some old looking boxes in hopes of staying warm. You couldn’t deny how chilly it was getting up in the attic. Belphie seemed unbothered, but you knew how cold Devildom nights got, and you weren’t dressed appropriately for the night.

“Mc, I’m tired. Come nap with me.” Belphie was still on the bed, arms outstretched to you. A draft swept over the room, causing you to shiver. “See, you’re cold. I’ll keep you warm.” His directness was something you admired about him, and it worked for you in this situation, so you obliged him.

“Is it really a nap at this point? It’s getting late.” You quickly tucked yourself under the covers and let him cling to you. He was very warm. You leaned into the embrace, welcoming the waves of heat.

“Doesn’t matter.” He buried his face in your hair. “Is this my shampoo?” He didn’t move.

“Maybe? It’s whatever bottle I grabbed first this morning so maybe you got the luck of the draw.” You fully well knew you grabbed his shampoo that morning. While you hadn’t picked it out on purpose, you knew the smell well.

“You’re cute. Now, good night. If we’re lucky, maybe my brothers will walk in on us cuddling and get jealous.” His words made you internally smile. If you actually smiled, he’d feel it and stay awake longer. You didn’t fall asleep as immediately as he did, as you heard him lightly snore once or twice, but you were able to revel in the body warmth and fuzzy feelings you got from being around him.

You just hoped his brothers wouldn’t be too freaked out when they couldn’t find you. (You knew they would for sure act like the world was ending and not let you out of their sight for a while)

#obey me #obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me lucifer #sorry if it’s a little shorter than the rest but I struggled to write this and wanted to get it out #thanks for understanding <3

[1d1195]

Dolcezza V

Read Dolcezza here.

Warnings: gonna have an angsty bit in here.

~6k words

“Y’don’t have t’feel embarrassed. Think s’pretty obvious I adore you. If y’want t’do this...” he moved his finger back and forth between them with his freehand. He squeezed her other one again. “S’all I can think ‘bout. Won’t take any convincing on my end. Whenever you’re ready, kitten, m’ready,” he promised and got out of the car.

They were still parked, taking a breather as she hadn’t really had a moment to think since she started on her journey home after her car fiasco. Niall had sent Harry minimal updates. The car was being fixed; he had the key to her apartment in his locker at work. They sat holding hands in the driveway while she tried to figure out the remainder of her day. They had gotten to her mom and dad’s place around noon. It was nearing almost four. As much as the car fiasco caused a hiccup in her plans, she was making good time on all the tasks she needed to get done. The ladder to the attic and the lights would cause another hiccup though. Especially since it would be dark while taking the lights down.

Harry was silent while she thought. He could see her mind turning over and over. He imagined if she was attached to the tachometer, it would be at least 2000 revolutions per minute. That, he was sure. But he let her take her time thinking, he didn’t want to interrupt her deep thoughts.

Eventually, she sighed. “Fixing that ladder is going to be a pain,” she mumbled.

Harry thought so too. It would be small and cramped and not to mention heavy. “Do... do y’have t’fix it?” He asked. She turned to him and looked at him as if that was the dumbest question someone could ask. He smirked. “Sorry, what was I thinking,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed and rubbed the palms of her hands against her temples. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that he asked that. It was kind of obvious that she should just go home and leave her more than capable family to deal with it. “I know... I know I’m a little crazy and I do too much but—”

Harry shook his head and grabbed the hand closest to him. He threaded his fingers through hers, brought them to his lips. He brushed his mouth over her knuckles lingering on the middle one and peppering kisses down the length of it before placing a longer kiss on the back of her hand. She was watching him the whole time. Harry swore she gulped. They gazed at each other, and she couldn’t believe Harry liked her like that. Enough to kiss her in the middle of her crazy family’s house. Enough to run all kinds of errands with her for other family members. “You are anything but crazy, Principessa.”

“I can’t believe you still call me that,” she murmured. Her voice felt shaky. The kiss they shared in the kitchen was magical, otherworldly. But somehow, that kiss on her hand felt like it was connected right to her chest, a short wire that was pulling so hard and making her woozy.

He chuckled. “You should be treated like one,” he smiled, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She was certain all her organs melted into puddles inside her body. It was a miracle she remembered to breathe. A miracle she was still alive after that. “What she said was wrong,” he repeated. “Anyone... anyone who knows you the way I do,” he shook his head. “Y’have made m’life so much better, kitten. Antonio’s, Niall’s, Leo’s, I bet y’made Eleanor and Louis’ lives better too,” he murmured. “Your sister is young. S’not an excuse because it was mean,” he nodded. “She’ll appreciate it when she’s older,” he nodded.

She swallowed. “I am bossy,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You’re caring.”

“I think it’s a large part of why my ex broke up with me,” she admitted.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, Principessa. That man is an idiot t’let y’get away,” he shrugged. “His opinion s’irrelevant,” he promised. She smirked, her gaze dropping from his eyes, and she looked at their hands intertwined, resting on the console between them.

“I like helping people. But...it comes off bossy—”

“La mia dolcezza, stop saying you’re bossy,” he shook his head. “Please,” he whispered.

“What did you call me?” She whispered breathlessly. Her cheeks were that beautiful pink he adored. His heart skipped a beat. His face warmed as he realized what he said. She remembered Harry telling Antonio’s story of how he named the restaurant. How he called his future wife the very same thing that Harry just said.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, worried that it was somehow too far. It rolled off his tongue. The same way Principessa and kitten did. It was the only thing to call her that made sense. Especially in a moment when she didn’t see how wonderful she was to everyone—especially Harry. He hoped she would see how lovely she was sooner rather than later. “My sweetness,” he murmured softly.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” she whispered in response.

He chuckled with slight relief flooding him. He used his freehand to cup her face and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Soon, Principessa, soon,” he promised.

*

“What’s James like?”

“A little calmer than the rest of them,” she said as they walked up the path to his apartment. “Maybe it’s because we’re closer in age than Emma and I, but...I don’t know. James is a lot more understanding of me, I think...overall, anyway...” Harry grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. He nodded as if he hadn’t just completely changed the rhythm of her heart. She bit her lip and stopped abruptly in her path. He smiled at her, taking a moment to look at her pretty being. His lips tingled the second he caught a glimpse of hers.

It was incredible what she could do in a day. Niall and Harry were headed to the restaurant to do early morning prep work—or at least Niall was. But with no plans for his day off, Harry was going to go with him. He was so glad he did. But if she managed to do all of the things on her mental to do list in a day? Harry was in awe. “S’matter, Principessa?” He asked, cupping her cheek and rubbing his thumb on her skin softly.

“James... has a roommate. His best friend Ethan,” she explained. “Ethan has had a crush on me since he was in high school,” her cheeks warmed under his touch.

“Obviously,” he smirked.

“Harry,” she tried to look away as the warmth only amplified against his hand.

“Is Ethan going to be here?” He asked.

She nodded. “He’s... harmless. But... I don’t know how to say this without sounding arrogant or...”

“Kitten, ‘course he likes his best friend’s hot older sister. M’not going t’be jealous or whatever you’re worried ‘bout,” he smirked. “If he tries t’kiss you though, I might have uncontrollable actions,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “Those lips are mine, now,” he rubbed his thumb on her lower lip, and she felt it all the way to her core. Then it was over. He left her breathless. Part of her thought she blacked out for a moment and all he did was touch her lip with his thumb. It took her a moment to realize Harry was now, waiting by the door for her to follow.

She cleared her throat, stepped to the door, and knocked. They only waited a minute before the door was out of the way.

“Hey Sis,” the boy smiled brightly as he answered. He was a spitting image of her dad. The resemblance was less strong between him and her than that of her sister and mother, but it was obvious they were siblings.

“Hi,” she smiled and wrapped her arms around him. James made eye contact with Harry as he held onto his sister.

“Eleanor didn’t want to hang out with us?” He asked.

The poor thing.

She sighed, seeming more defeated but also ignoring the feeling anyway. “Eleanor moved,” she shook her head. “This is Harry,” she explained.

“S’nice to meet you,” Harry stuck his hand out for the last of her family to shake.

“You took him to Mom and Dad’s?” He asked in surprise as he nodded at Harry while shaking his hand. She ignored him and stepped inside. He whistled in appreciation. “I don’t take the girl I’m seeing there for at least three months.”

“That would require you could keep a girl for three months,” she muttered as she started cleaning up the dishes as she went through his living room. James rolled his eyes as Harry smirked. The playfulness, compared to the argument with her sister, was a lot more Harry’s speed. He thought it was a lot nicer on her gentle heart, too.

“Did I hear the love of my life?” A second man appeared in the room, shirtless. He was a little shorter than Harry but still taller than average. Harry couldn’t help but compare how he looked to himself. He was probably attractive. If you liked that sort of thing. Despite what he said, Harry felt a pang of jealousy go through him. Ethan frowned. “James, you said she didn’t have a boyfriend anymore.”

The jealousy went away, and Harry smiled delightedly as she turned the most beautiful shade of pink to date of knowing her. “Jesus Christ,” she put a hand to her face. “Ethan, for the love of God,” she headed toward the kitchen with her armload of dishes. “Put a shirt on! It’s February!” She called.

“Why? Am I distracting you with my hot body?” he called back. The silence that ensued told him that she was ignoring him.

James smiled and shook his head. “This is Harry,” he gestured.

“You are my least favorite person right now,” Ethan said shaking his hand. Harry smirked.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“I’ve been in love with her for at least ten years.”

“Disgusting,” James remarked and headed for the kitchen where Harry could hear water running and the spritz of cleaning bottles.

“Can’t say I blame you,” Harry smirked and headed toward the kitchen as well. Ethan grabbed a shirt off the back of the couch and slipped it over his head.

She was once more a tornado of cleaning, doing dishes, and loading the dishwasher. Harry did what he could to help her. He grabbed dishes and threw trash in the bin. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. He wished he could say he would do the same for anyone. Plus, he didn’t want her to be stuck doing everything. Ethan was busy looking in the fridge but Harry noted there wasn’t much there except for a six pack of beer, a bottle of ketchup, and some eggs. “Thanks for the heads up on the attic ladder,” she turned to look at her brother. He bit his lip and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s on me,” he murmured. “Sorry, Sis, are you alright?”

She gestured to her body and nodded. “What do you think?”

“I think you look fantastic,” Ethan grinned eyeing her up and down.

Harry snorted at his forwardness but couldn’t blame him. Her cheeks flamed once more. “I wasn’t asking you,” she glared at him. “Don’t you have a date you need to torture?” She grumbled.

“I did, but I heard you were coming, and I couldn’t leave without saying I love you,” his smile was full of impish delight. Harry didn’t realize he was going to be that flirty. But the way she glared at him and blushed made him feel much less threatened.

Not that he felt threatened. That would be ridiculous. He was at least six years younger than she was. Maybe seven based on the way he flirted with her.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to be my date,” he said knowingly. “But then you brought a guy with you. Where’s Eleanor?”

Sighing, unable to even say it, she rolled her eyes. Harry smirked sadly while he wiped down the counters she cleared. He found a box of trash bags below the sink right by her shin and he gave her calf a little squeeze in recognition. “Well, thank God for Harry then,” she muttered low enough that Harry wasn’t sure anyone but him heard.

James smirked as he helped clean. Harry appreciated that from her brother. His demeanor was a lot more her speed, and ergo Harry’s. It was quieter than her parents’ house. Relaxing almost. “How’s the hangover,” she asked eyeing her brother. He smirked. “I’m fine,” he promised.

“He threw up most of it when we got home,” Ethan assured her. She sighed and looked at James with a blank expression, but Harry could see the worry in her eyes.

“James,” she said softly.

“I’m fine, Sis, promise,” he nodded. But she looked disbelieving.

“You need a cleanse,” she muttered.

“No way,” Ethan said. “The holiday of our people is coming, we have to practice.”

“Neither of you are Irish!” She said with exasperation thick in her voice. It was obvious that this was not the first time she had had this conversation with them. “Alright, are you ready for your to do list?” She looked at Ethan. He saluted her standing at attention like this was serious. “I’m going to look at the state of your laundry room,” the two boys exchanged a look like she was their mom, and they knew immediately they were going to be in trouble. It was equal parts hysterical and adorable. “James and I are going grocery shopping. I’m assuming,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “The bathroom needs to be cleaned,” his answering smile assured her that she was correct. She wrinkled her nose. “No idea how you guys can bring women here with the state of your bathroom. Spotless,” she stuck her finger at him.

“God you’re hot when you’re bossy,” Ethan sighed dreamily.

Much more Harry’s speed, but still a bit jealous of how it sounded. But he couldn’t argue with him either. She was pretty hot when she gave orders.

*

James sat in the middle of the seat making eye contact with Harry in the rearview mirror every so often while he chatted with his sister. They quickly caught up on their lives. James was working a lot, his classes were good, and he was still having a lot of fun. “Good, that means you can’t drink as much,” she remarked.

He sighed with an eyeroll. “I don’t have a drinking problem.”

“The way you drink is not normal. It’s not moderate. It’s binging and you know that’s bad. I did a whole research project in undergrad for my psychology class. It’s horrible,” she reminded him.

“Yes, ma’am. You’ve mentioned it about a thousand times. I don’t feel like I have to drink. I just like to drink. I’m fine.”

She turned toward him in her seat, looked at him suspiciously. “I just worry.”

“I know, Sis. I know. You worry about everyone,” he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he promised. He glanced at Harry again. “How’d you meet?”

“I rent the apartment above the restaurant Harry works at,” she explained.

“Oh, cool. What kind of restaurant?”

“Italian,” Harry answered.

“Oh, so she eats all the garlic bread,” he nodded knowingly. Harry chuckled.

She glared at her brother. “Shut up,” she grumbled. She turned to Harry who was smiling happily as he drove toward the grocery store. “Traitor,” she mumbled.

He grabbed her hand from her lap and held it on the console. The movement wasn’t lost on James. He stared at their intertwined hands for a moment before looking at his sister. He may have been younger, but he would do anything to protect her. “So... how long have you been seeing each other?” He asked.

She blushed. “Um...” she swallowed. “We’re only...”

“S’pretty new,” Harry explained. “S’been a busy few months with the holidays.”

“You didn’t tell us,” James’ attention was on her.

“Um...” she swallowed. Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. Whatever she said was fine. “I... just have a lot going on. I don’t want to...”

“Oh, I get it, you’re shutting down again.”

She gaped and Harry’s eyes flew to James’ in the rear view. He smirked. “Oh?” Harry asked squeezing her hand again.

“Oh yeah. She does this all the time. She doesn’t let herself be happy,” he squeezed her shoulder. “Gotta worry about everyone else’s happiness,” he winked at her. Her face was no longer pink but bright red. Harry bit his lip.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mumbled with a wink in her direction.

“Pretty sure you should be nicer to me since I’m the one buying your groceries,” she grumbled.

He squeezed her shoulder again. “Annoying younger brother,” he reminded her, getting out of the car and heading for the store. She sighed, pressing her head against the back of the seat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Harry stayed quiet for a moment. Turned in her direction and smiled weakly. She refused to look at him head on. But he spoke anyway. “Y’deserve t’be happy. I’d like t’make y’happy, Principessa. Worry ‘bout you the way y’worry ‘bout everyone else,” he reached out to gently turn her face toward him. His smile was gentle, his eyes just as gentle too. Her heart was beating unevenly. He was so handsome and so nice. It made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world, and she wasn’t sure she deserved someone so normal and wonderful. He didn’t even flinch about her family. “Y’don’t have t’feel embarrassed. Think s’pretty obvious I adore you. If y’want t’do this...” he moved his finger back and forth between them with his freehand. He squeezed her other one again. “S’all I can think ‘bout. Won’t take any convincing on my end. Whenever you’re ready, kitten, m’ready,” he promised and got out of the car.

It took her a full minute to recover while Harry stood by the passenger door waiting for her signal that she was going to get out. She wanted to throw herself at Harry and kiss him in the middle of a city grocery store parking lot. But she wasn’t kidding when she said it earlier. If she kissed him, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop.

*

Harry didn’t know he could fall harder for her. Especially for all the reasons he had fallen for her so much already. But seeing the cost of James’ groceries drop after coupons and her savings card, to one-hundred dollars less than it started, Harry was certain it might be one of the top five hottest things he adored about her. She was taking a picture of the receipt while she walked. “What are you doing?” James asked.

“I get points for receipts on this app. Then I can use the points to redeem gift cards.”

“You sound like mom.”

“Again, bought you your groceries.”

Harry smirked, putting the bags in the trunk of his car. James got the package of water bottles and soda from below the cart and put them in. She tried to grab stuff, but Harry shook his head fluttering his hand and ushering it away. “’Ve got it, Principessa.”

James smirked. “She did always want to be a princess when she was little. So, we’ve been told,” he nodded.

“Shut up.”

Harry smiled. “S’good t’know. Knew she had it in her,” he murmured.

“Er...Harry, would you mind terribly if I talked to her for a moment?” James asked.

She looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you just—”

“M’jus’ gonna make a call,” Harry nodded and sat in the driver’s seat.

She turned to her brother. She remembered the day in first grade when her mom told her she was going to be a big sister. She was so excited. A real-life doll to play with. James was her best friend—probably still was in a lot of ways. He was intelligent and kind. She thought between the two of them, James was a lot more like her than Emma was.

He looked at his shoes leaning against Harry’s car. “M’sorry,” he murmured.

She sighed, already knowing what he was applying. “How much?”

“I paid all my bills for the month... it’s just... we had a party... and then...” he looked up at her. “I met a girl,” he told her. His cheeks turning pink, and she found him the cutest little thing on the planet. “I really like her,” he explained. “So, I took her out to this fancy place and... I charged it but... I needed books for class. Then... I get paid next week, and I didn’t budget right. I’m sorry,” he rubbed his hand over his mouth. He sounded remorseful.

“What’s she like?” she asked.

He looked up at her and smiled. “You’re going to love her,” he promised. “I want you to meet her,” he nodded.

Her heart clenched in a way she didn’t know was possible. Rarely did she meet James’ girlfriends. She met them when he was in high school, but only because she was around a lot more. But since she moved out and since James was in college, she didn’t hear or see much of his dating life. Other than the components she did not want to hear about and made her want to throw up thinking about her little brother doing weird things to girls.

“Are you embarrassed by me because I’m insane?” She asked him point blank when she saw the text messages popping up on his phone once during the holiday weekend about a year ago. There was a red heart next to the name and she didn’t recognize it.

“No, Sis. No way. I... I don’t introduce them to you because you’re the most sane. I want to be sure when they meet you,” he told her. Her heart felt so much adoration for her little brother. It felt like a hug and he wasn’t even touching her.

“I’d like that,” she nodded, trying to keep the tears from filling her eyes.

“Next time,” he nodded. “I know you have to get back and frost Emma’s cupcakes. She’s been texting me the whole time that I’m hogging you.”

She sighed and pulled her checkbook out of her purse. She wrote a sum that no normal sister would write for their younger brother while leaning against the back of the car. But it was better than him asking her mom. “I’ll pay you back,” he promised as she put the check in his hands.

“By my estimates you owe me more than you’ll ever be able to make,” she winked at him. “It’s what older sisters are for,” she promised and gave him another hug.

“Someone should tell Emma that,” he grumbled into her hair. She smiled, her eyes watering against her will. All while holding back the emotion that she felt for feeling understood. Maybe this girl was good for James. She hoped he was. He seemed to have matured in a matter of months since she last saw him. It made her throat tighten and she did her best to control the tears from falling. “Didn’t tell us about Harry,” he said knowingly.

She shrugged and smiled wryly. “I’m still figuring it out.”

“I think you should let him take care of you,” he said knowingly. “I’ve never seen you smile like that,” he wrinkled his nose. “Even if he holds your hand,” he pretended to gag, and she smiled.

“I like him,” she admitted. “A lot.”

“I would think; I wasn’t kidding. I don’t bring girls home to Mom and Dad’s for a while.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think he likes me too,” she sounded shy, like it was hard to believe. It was for her, but still.

“I’ll say. Ethan’s been texting me nonstop saying it’s game over. No more flirting. You’re betrothed to someone else.”

“Ethan did not say betrothed,” she laughed.

“He did, he is distraught,” he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes heading for the passenger seat. Harry smiled as she sat down, winking at her with the phone pressed to his ear. “I’ll call you later, Gem. Jus’ wanted t’say thank you and I love you,” he tapped on the steering wheel. “Tell mum I said hi and I love her,” he added. “Alright, bye,” he gave her a once over assuring she was in one piece—emotionally. “All set?” He asked.

She nodded. “All set.”

*

The ladder was the hardest part. Her dad helped at least. Had all the right tools and all the right pieces of wood needed to fix it. Harry was insistent on keeping her out of the way. “I always help with this stuff, Harry,” she said standing by with a flashlight for more help. It was bright in the hall, but you can never have too much light for these projects.

“It’s true. I had James, but by then my little helper here was doing most of the grunt work,” her dad winked at her as a reminder. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

But once the ladder was up and functional again, Harry still didn’t want her going up into the attic. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself, kitten,” he told her as he climbed up.

“Well, what about you—”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised with a wink.

After that, the lights took all of twenty minutes to come down. Harry was insistent he be on the ladder for that as well, pulling the lights off the gutter and handing the strand down to her. She wrapped them up expertly and stashed them in the bins and helped Harry put them back up in the new and improved attic. The way his arms flexed as he lifted the boxes up and over the ledge of the attic opening made his shirt lift a little, showing off a flash of his stomach. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds of time, but she was able to see toned lines of his abdomen and another tattoo on his hip. She swallowed as he descended the ladder trying to keep her thoughts PG, but Harry was looking at her with that beautiful smile of his and he kissed her cheek just like the very first time he did after babysitting Leo.

They finally ate the shepherd’s pie her mom made. It needed to be reheated by then. Harry was delighted with how good it tasted. “It’s Mom’s specialty,” she said. “Also, my favorite,” she smirked. “As you may have guessed, I have a thing for comfort food.”

He chuckled and nodded. “S’delicious, Principessa.”

Now they were frosting cupcakes. Almost silently. She heard the TV in the other room while the rest of her family watched the news and whatever followed it. “This is fun,” Harry smiled excitedly at her.

“Fun?” She snorted.

“Yeah. T’hang out with y’like this? S’nice,” he sounded almost sheepish.

Her heart fluttered because she couldn’t think of anything but how nice and wonderful Harry had been the whole day. “On the way home, you have to tell me all about your family, please.”

He smiled licking a bit of frosting off his thumb. He got up to wash his hands because he was onto vanilla frosting after finishing the cream cheese flavor. “Course, Principessa.”

*

They stayed for a whole hour in the living area with her family. Harry sat next to her, so close the length of her thigh pressed against his. He had his arm draped behind her on the back of the sofa and he chatted with her family so easily. It was cozy. Like he belonged there. It made her heart feel achy and she wished with everything in her that nothing would shatter this perfection she was feeling.

She couldn’t wait to tell Eleanor.

She visited a couple weekends ago. Had to get a few financial and personal documents from the town hall and whatnot to set up more permanent things in her residence. Her new job was nice—she was able to work from home most of the time; but did have to go to the office at least twice a week. But it was easy to shift the days if needed so she could do things like fly in and get her tasks done and still have time to get pasta at Dolcezza.

“Can you please put that poor man out of his misery and marry him already?” Eleanor rolled her eyes as they waited for their waitress to return with the check to sign. Their to go bag was on the table and Eleanor snapped a picture of her smiling cutely. Like they were on a date.

She rolled her eyes at the time. Not knowing that in less than a month she would be kissing Harry in her parents’ kitchen. “He’s not miserable.”

“No, but that’s because he’s so enamored, he would probably follow you around like a puppy on a leash if you asked him too.” She rolled her eyes but at that moment the waitress returned with their check and another bag filled with garlic bread from the cutest chef she had ever met.

“Well, we should get going. I just have to use the bathroom,” she said begrudgingly, getting up from the sofa. She could feel the heat from Harry dissipate almost immediately. It made her want to sit back down and never move from his side again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, for the cupcakes,” Emma said looking up at her older sister as she walked toward the bathroom. She smiled gently.

“Anytime, Em,” she promised.

“Let me help you get them on trays,” Harry said getting up from the sofa as well and Emma followed him almost implicitly toward the kitchen. Due to the size of the bake sale and how her cupcakes were town-famous, she had invested in several large trays that held cupcakes for ease of transportation. It took two cars and a flat backseat, but it was way more manageable than the first year when she made three or four trips to the school carrying cupcakes in kitschy cases.

After her short trip to the restroom, she nearly tripped over the smoke alarm in the middle of the hall. She rolled her eyes with a sigh. This had to be the hundredth task she did for her family today. But of course, she shouldn’t have expected anything less. She headed to the computer room to find a new battery. It was right near the kitchen, so she overheard Emma and Harry chatting.

“Do you have a sister?” Emma asked.

“Yeah. Gemma. She’s three years older than me.”

“So you know how annoying older sisters are,” she muttered.

Harry chuckled. “I mean...yeah. Gemma’s annoying sometimes... but she’s also m’best friend. Always looks out for me. Think if I were on the edge of a cliff, she’d throw herself off it t’save me,” he said knowingly.

Emma snorted. “She’d never do that for me,” she mumbled. Her heart broke as she eavesdropped on their conversation. Of course, she would. It hurt that Emma didn’t know that.

Harry made a cluck of disapproval. “I wouldn’t say that, Emma,” Harry said quickly. “Your sister talks ‘bout you a lot.”

“She does?” The shock in her voice pulled at her heartstrings. How could Emma not know that? Her baby sister was a spoiled princess. But she was in part to blame for that. She adored her the moment her mom arrived home with her. A new doll. One that she knew how to take care of thanks to James’ arrival three years prior. Emma was just as much of her baby as she was her parents’ baby.

“Yeah... told me all these cute funny stories ‘bout when y’were born. How y’used t’ask her t’do your makeup when y’were eight and she was getting ready for prom and stuff. Now you’re the one that does hers. She thinks you’re brilliant, beautiful, and wonderful.”

Emma was silent for a long time. She held her breath. “Oh...” she mumbled.

“Y’were pretty mean t’her today. M’not gonna lie t’you. I didn’t like it all.”

She was going to cry. Cry a lot. No one had ever stood up for her like that. Harry was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. “I’m sorry,” Emma whispered.

“S’not me who y’need t’apologize to,” Harry said softly.

“She’s...” Emma took a deep breath. “She’s so perfect,” Emma whispered. “It’s hard being her younger sister sometimes. All Mom and Dad say is that they miss her and wish she was here. I miss her. My teachers ask about her. They use her work as model examples, and everyone stares at me like I’m second best. I feel so inadequate...” her voice cracked, and she wanted to do nothing but run out there and hug the girl who would always be a little eight-year-old begging to wear her prom dress even though it trailed off her way too far.

“Oh Emma,” Harry had a frown in his voice. “Y’jus’ need t’tell her that. She adores you...and while I agree with you completely, m’sure she would say she’s not perfect.”

She smirked against her teary eyes and stifled a giggle that she wanted to release. “You’re way better than all her other boyfriends,” Emma said knowingly. “If you break her heart, I will kill you,” she promised. It was really hard to hide her laughter, but Harry found it quite funny, so his laugh hid any little breathy chuckle that managed to escape.

“Thank you, Emma,” he said.

Even though they weren’t really boyfriend and girlfriend, she agreed with her sister completely.

*

Harry told her all about his family. Growing up in England. Getting his degree and traveling until he found Antonio, and she knew the rest. She wanted to meet Gemma more than anything in the world. His mum too, but as a fellow older sister, she imagined she could compare notes. He told funny stories about him and Niall living together in a house across their small town.

He held her hand the whole way home, stroking his thumb soothingly over her knuckles. As awful as the day began, she never wanted it to end. Harry was amazing. In every sense of the word and every physical movement. Not once did he complain. Not once did he mind a single thing, she asked of him.

They made it back to the restaurant. It was only ten, a whole hour before she thought they’d be back. Harry immediately went to the kitchen to get her some garlic bread because it had been a long day and he wanted to make sure she had something good at the very end of the night. He also told her he would get her keys from Niall. She sat at the bar looking at the knots in the wood grain. Patiently, anxiously, she tapped her fingers against it, waiting for Harry to get back. He promised to walk her upstairs and part of her hoped he remembered what he said about kissing her for a lot longer than in the kitchen earlier in the day.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

Niall was ducked behind the bar and reappeared as she glanced up seeing the movement. He was helping himself to a glass of water from the little soda gun. “Hey Niall,” she said softly.

“Hey, Tesorino! How was your day?” He said cheerily. She smiled weakly. Niall assumed it was exhaustion. “Let me get your keys. Did everything—”

“From where you’re standing,” she interrupted. “Don’t be obvious, please. Is there a guy in the left corner? Blonde, longish hair, glasses? Is he staring at me?”

Niall felt his whole body freeze over. Inside and out. The blood in his veins stilled. His muscles locked. His joints stiffened. He looked up briefly, discreetly following her direction. She swallowed waiting nervously as Niall looked to the back corner.

He nodded.

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply. “Okay,” she whispered. “I was afraid of that.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @crossyourpeter @st-ev-ie @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @slayyyyyyyyyyyyyysblog @theresnooneheretosave @emmaawbr

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

[noforkingclue]

The Attic (dark!Thomas Shelby x reader)

Summary: you were told to avoid the attic because it was dangerous. But what happens when you finally stop resisting the pull towards it and ignore the warnings of your husband?

Author's Note: This was written for @zablife 2K celebration! I chose to write something for the attic! I made references to some of my other reader inserts but don't worry, you don't have to have read them to understand this fic.

(alternative title- Thomas Shelby and the Multi-Verse of Fucking Up You Life)

Hope you like the fic :)

Warnings: dark fic, reference forced married, murder

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshitisfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You loved the colour of Tommy’s eyes. So blue they reminded you of the sky on a warm summer’s day. You frequently found yourself getting lost in them as the two of you spent a blissful time in Paris.

Ah, Paris.

It was such a wonderful honeymoon but, as all good things, it came to an end far too quickly. Soon you found yourself back in Arrow House. Grand, beautiful, hauntingly lonely Arrow House. You knew that there were servants. Your bed was always made in the morning, food always hot and waiting for you, yet you never saw them.  You heard the sounds of people moving around and yet whenever you entered a room you never saw them. Tommy said that his family lived with him, he had such a large house that it made sense. However, you had yet to meet any of them. Hushed whispers, the sound of rustling clothes, hurriedly retreating footsteps was the most you ever got to see of them.

You were allowed free rein of the house. After all, it was your home now as well. However, the only room you weren’t allowed in was the attic. When you questioned why Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist, pulled you against him and said,

“Floor boards aren’t stable, love. In the process of getting them fixed but I don’t want you to fall through. So just stay away from there alright?”

“Alright Tommy.”

“Good girl.”

And with a soft kiss pressed against your forehead the deal was done.

At least for now.

*

Despite your faith in your husband, part of you suspected he was lying. There were nights were you laid awake looking up at the ceiling. Sometimes you heard a creek, the sound of a footstep and you’d sit bolt upright in bed. It was strange, whenever this happen Tommy always seemed to be awake. A comforting arm was wrapped around you ready to pull you back down to his comforting embrace. Tommy would mutter something about a nightmare and for you to get back to sleep and somehow you always found yourself drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Then there was the sleep paralysis. You had never experienced it before you had moved into Arrow House. Now it had become a semi regular occurrence. The shadowy figure that seemed to melt out of the wall and slowly approach you and your husband. However, it never seemed that interested in you. The focus of the creature was purely on Tommy and you could feel the hatred seep from it. It was enough to peel the wallpaper from the wall, crack the wood in the headboard and rot the floorboards. When you woke up everything was back to normal and Tommy hadn’t seen a thing.

And yet you found yourself drawn to the attic. If you closed your eyes and concentrated hard enough you could hear the hushed whispers high above your head. You long to be a part of them. To be accepted into the Shelby family.

Which was how you found yourself at the foot of the staircase.

You knew where it lead even though it was your first time seeing it and it terrified you. The staircase was shrouded in darkness but your goal was lit up. White light shone through the crack under the attic door, lighting your way into the knowledge you so desperately craved. You knew that you shouldn’t climb it. It wasn’t safe, you could fall and injure yourself. And yet you were pulled towards it like a magnet. You were helpless as you were dragged into the inky darkness which sealed you fate.

At first you couldn’t understand why Tommy was so adamant that you avoided the attic. Sure it was bit dusty and could do with a lick of paint but the floor looked sturdy enough. You ventured in, your anxiety disappearing with each step until you were in the middle of the room. You breathed in a deeply and immediately regretted it as a cloud of dust was drawn into your nose and triggered your allergies. You coughed and spluttered and then you heard it.

A soft voice.

Soft familiar and yet so strange.

A voice you thought you had heard a thousand times before and yet not at all.

‘Leave.’

Then another.

‘Run.’

And another.

‘Escape.’

And then they all came at once. Like a flock of angry, blood thirsty birds. Like a wave determined to drag you under and drown you.

‘Leave this place.’

‘Don’t come back.’

‘He’ll kill you.’

‘He’ll destroy you.’

‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’ / ‘Murderer.’

That word. Repeated over and over and over again until it didn’t sound like a word at all. You crouched to the ground, hands covering your face, as hot tears pour down your face. You should’ve listened to Tommy. You never should’ve come here.

‘You never should’ve come to Arrow House. Leave. Run. While you still can.’

It was the longest one of these voices had ever spoken to you. You peaked through your fingers and wished that you hadn’t. A figure stood in front of you. Swirling dark mist coiled around it and other things moved in the background. The voices were now just a hushed whisper but they seemed to dominate your senses.

“W… what are you?” you asked shakily

‘A warning of what will be if you don’t run.’

“Run? From who? The Shelby’s?”

‘Tommy.’

“He’s my husband. I love him.”

This caused the mist to swirl angrily and the figure melted away. Another appeared in view. Its face was a dark swirl but its body was still recognisable. It wore a white blouse, well, a blouse that was once white. Red seeped into the fabric and it leant closer.

‘He said he loved me,’ it said, ‘until he tore my throat out.’

‘He said he loved me until he took away my son from his safe life.’

‘He said he loved me until he forced me to marry him.’

‘He said he love me until he killed my Oliver.’

‘He’s a murderer.’/‘Murderer.’/‘Murderer.’

“No,” you closed your eyes tightly, “No. I know him. We’re married.”

‘So were we.’

A thousands voices all at once. They sounded like leaves rustling in a storm. Like millions of pages being rapidly turned all at once. You gripped your hair in your hands and shook your head.

“This isn’t real,” you said, “You’re not real. It’s just a hallucination brought on by too little sleep.”

‘We are real.’

‘Because you are real.’

“That doesn’t make any sense. What are you?”

‘Incorrect question.’

‘Stupid question.’

‘They always ask that question.’

‘Always.’ / ’Always.’ / ’Always.’

‘Doesn’t make it stupid.’

‘An insult to them-‘

‘-is an insult to us.’

“What does that mean?”

The creatures seemed amused at your question. They swirled closer around you, a suffocating mass of something you weren’t sure was real or not. They dominated your senses and curled around your neck as they whispered,

‘You know.’

‘Because we know.’

‘You are we-‘

‘-and we are you.’

“Wh…what?”

‘Shouldn’t stutter.’

‘She’s confused.’

‘We all were when we were her.’

‘We are her.’

‘You know what I mean.’

You shook your head and tangled your fingers in your hair. You pulled your legs up to your chest and pressed your forehead against your knees.

“This isn’t real.”

‘It is.’

‘Run.’/’Stay.’/’Run.’/’Stay.’

“This is all in my head. All in my head. All in my head.”

‘Stay we’ll die again.’

‘Run we’ll die again.’

“Maybe it’ll be different this time. He loves me.”

‘He loved all of us.’

‘And he killed all of us.’

‘And those we cared about.’

‘My parents.’

‘My sibling.’

‘My Oliver.’

“Why should I believe you?”

‘Because we’re you-‘

‘-and you’re us.’

‘We’re the same.’

‘You should kill him’

‘Kill him.’/’Kill him.’/’Kill him.’

‘I tried to kill him.’

This caused the mist to swirl around violently.

‘But you failed.’

‘We failed.’

‘You failed.’

‘He manipulated you.’

‘Us.’

You shook your head before standing up on shaking legs. You swallowed thickly and turned around and tried to walk towards the door. However, the mist blocked your escape. You didn’t know if you could walk through it or what would happen if you did.

‘Kill him.’

‘Kill him and be free.’

‘Kill him before he kills us.’

“He won’t kill us,” you shook your head and gritted your teeth, “me. He’s my husband. He loves me.”

‘And me.’/’And me.’/’And me.’

‘He loved all of us.’

‘And he killed all of us.’

‘All of us.’

‘You know we’re telling the truth.’

‘Because you are us-‘

‘-and we’

You closed your eyes and shook your head violently. The attic creaked around you and your eyes flew open at the unnatural sound. Darkness surrounded you. Suffocating inky darkness that made it impossible to breath. You took half a step forward and the voices all spoke at once again,

‘You know what you need to do. Kill him and be free of him. Be free of this family. Free us. End the cycle. Kill Thomas-‘

“Love? Are you alright?”

You let out a cry of relief as Tommy almost seemed to glide through the darkness. You flung yourself into his arms and sobbed into his chest. Tommy rubbed comforting circles against your back as you continued to cry. You could hear the whispers of the voices in the background and it took you a moment to realise that Tommy had spoken.

“I… I…”

“Shh it’s ok,” Tommy pressed a kiss on top of your head, “it’s ok. It’s just your sleepwalking.”

“I’ve never sleepwalked before.”

“Yes you have,” Tommy pressed his cheek against yours, “yes you have. I was afraid this was going to happen. The doctor did say that your memory was going to be effected.”

“Doctor?” you pulled away, “we’ve never been to a doctor.”

‘We told you.’

‘He’s manipulating you.’

‘Run.’

‘Kill.’

“Shut up!” you hissed

“I haven’t said anything.” Said Tommy

“Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.” You hissed

“You’re hearing voices.”

“Yes. No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Love,” Tommy’s hand appeared on your shoulder, “You need help.”

‘You need to get away.’

‘Kill.’/’Kill.’/’Kill.’

“Get away from me!” you shrieked

You took several steps back, eyes wide as you looked at your husband. The man you loved so deeply that it hurt but now… now you didn’t recognise him. His eyes that once reminded you of summer had changed. Winter had taken over. Ice filled your veins and you felt like you were sinking into an icy lake, your escaped blocked off by the frozen top.

“Who are you?” you asked

“You know who I am.” Thomas took a step towards you, “I’m your husband.”

“No.”

“Love, you’re not well. The lack of sleep. The voices.”

“I know my own mind.”

“Love-“

“Stop calling me that!”

You took another stepped back and let out a cry of shock. Your foot didn’t land on the floor. Instead it swung back into open air and you felt your body drop back. Was this really how it was going to end? An argument and falling through the rotten floorboards you were warned about.

But as suddenly as you were falling, you were saved. Tommy had grabbed your hand and was holding you. You looked down and swallowed thickly at the drop below. When you looked back at Tommy you were horrified to see that winter hadn’t thawed.

“Tommy,” you said, “Please.”

“Shame,” he said, “so much work yet again wasted.”

As he let you go.

#fanfiction #peaky blinders #reader insert #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #dark

[atimeofyourlife]

A small surprise

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: came back wrong | rated: t | wc: 973 | cw: mentions of Steve having bad parents and diet culture | tags: deaged steve harrington Steve came back different after the final battle against the Upside Down. Nothing dangerous or violent, just a lot smaller.

The third morning of everyone sheltering at Steve's house in the aftermath of the final battle against Vecna, where they'd agreed to spend a week if anyone was unaccounted for after the fight. Steve was the only one missing, but as no one had seen a body, everyone refused to accept that he hadn't made it. Eddie walked into the living room to the strangest thing he'd ever seen. Most of the group were scattered around the various furniture, talking over each other as normal. The strange thing was Robin, stood off to the side holding a small child on her hip. A small child that had definitely not been around the night before when everyone had gone to bed.

"What the fuck is that?" He asked, unable to hold back his confusion.

"It's a baby." Dustin replied, his tone condescending as always.

"I know it's a fucking baby, what's it doing here?"

Then, a small mumbled reply came, distorted around the fingers in his mouth. "M not a baby."

"No, Stevie. You're not a baby, five is so much more grown up than a baby." Robin said softly, bouncing the kid- Steve- a little.

"Wait, that kid is Steve?" Eddie looked a little closer, and it was pretty obvious. The big brown eyes peeking up at him paired with the moles and beauty marks scattered across the kid's skin, there was no one else it could be. "How- What?"

"We're not sure yet. He showed up this morning like this. We're waiting for Owens to get here to check him out. El doesn't think that it's the Upside Down." Robin explained.

"Now we just have to figure out what we're going to do with him in the meantime." Nancy added, looking a little uncomfortable at the situation.

"Yeah, like clothes, food, diapers." Dustin started listing things off on his fingers.

"He doesn't need diapers, Dustin. He's five, not a baby." Mike cut in, sounding offended on Steve's behalf.

Somehow, in the wait for Owens, Eddie ended up assisting as the main babysitter. With Steve getting passed between him and Robin, depending on what needed doing at any specific time. Robin being pulled away as the most familiar with Steve's house to help search the attic and the basement for any boxes tucked away from Steve's childhood, a task that had been deemed too dangerous for Steve to be involved in. So Eddie had to try and entertain a five-year-old. Little Steve seemed fascinated by his long hair.

"And your mommy doesn't care that your hair is so long?" Steve asked, his face lit up in awe.

"That's the good thing about being a grown up. You don't have to listen to what your mommy and daddy tell you to do." Eddie replied, tickling at Steve's sides.

Steve squealed with laughter and squirmed away, looking a little confused. "But Daddy said I always have to listen to him, even after I've grown up. That he knows best."

Eddie's heart broke a little at that. This sweet, tiny boy next to him, believing that he would forever be under his dad's thumb. "Hey. You can do what you want. If he's not around, you don't have to listen to him. When you're older, you can live to be who you want to be. He won't be able to tell you what to do all the time. And if he tries, you'll be allowed to say no to him."

When Dr Owens got there, it was chaos. Everyone wanting to be involved, to give their input. Crowding around, making Steve pull away, clinging to both Eddie and Robin.

"Maybe, if we tried this in a more private room?" Dr Owens suggested, after several unsuccessful attempts to start examining Steve. "With less people around."

"Uh. Steve's bedroom, maybe?" Eddie suggested, "He's got a big ensuite, so there's space in there?"

"Yeah, and if it's just me and Eddie? The gremlins are too loud and obnoxious to be any help." Robin added, being met with protest from most of the kids.

After Owens had fully checked Steve over, during which Steve kept switching between wanting to be held by Eddie, or by Robin, they still didn't have many answers. Owens had done a number of tests and taken samples and told them that he would be in touch. And that all they could do in the meantime would be take care of Steve and keep him safe.

"After you being such a brave boy for the doctor, I think you deserve some ice cream." Robin said, carrying Steve towards the kitchen.

"Not allowed ice cream. Mommy says it makes you fat." Steve replied. "Gramma gave me some and Mommy yelled at her and won't let me see her any more."

"Well, Mommy's not here, so she doesn't have to know." Eddie said, faking a smile and ticking Steve's sides to hide how his heart was breaking even more.

Eddie sat Steve in his lap at the table while Robin filled a bowl with ice cream, topped with far too much chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and sprinkles. Steve went to town on it when it was set in front of him, shoveling it down faster than could be healthy.

"Hey, slow down. You don't want to make yourself sick." Robin warned.

Steve looked up at her with wide eyes.

"No one's going to take it from you, so you can eat it slower." Eddie added. Steve turned to him, and Eddie smiled at the chocolate sauce smudged across his nose. He didn't know how long it would take for Steve to get back to normal, but while Steve was small, he was determined to give him the childhood he deserved. And once Steve was big again, he would always make sure that Steve felt loved and cared for.

This 110% came from the "I know it's a fucking baby, what's it doing here?" sound on tiktok. And I just wanted to try a different version of came back wrong.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #pre steddie #steddieholidaydrabbles #deaged steve harrington #came back wrong #atimeofyourwrites

[victhinks]

Don't Leave, I Love You

Lockwood & Co. Angst week Day two: Treasure Your Relationships | arguments ; @lco-angst-week

Also posted on AO3

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Self-Esteem Issues

“Please, Luce,” Lockwood said desperately, trying to persuade her to stay. Lucy huffed, angrily collecting her belongings from across the room. She wanted to leave this time for real and his heart seized painfully at the thought.

The case was doomed from the start. 

The houseowner, Mr. March had given them false information and the mostly harmless Type I had turned into at least three very powerful Type IIs, which left George, Lucy and Lockwood completely out of their depth. 

Lockwood had packed according to the information presented to them, so their equipment was insufficient and they barely got out with their lives. It was foolish on his part, of course. Stupid, stupid, to pack only the bare minimum and be entirely unprepared by any change of scenery with unprecedented dangers.

It was entirely his fault, forgetting the first rule he had set himself: Keep them safe, no matter what. Lockwood had put them all in danger. And it was only natural that Lucy had finally had enough. That did not make this anymore easy.

“Please, Luce,” Lockwood said desperately, trying to persuade her to stay, as Lucy huffed, angrily collecting her belongings from across the room. The wardrobe had already been emptied, all her clothes stuffed in a suitcase. Now only her small trinkets were missing, which she hurriedly accumulated to dump them in her backpack and leave. She wanted to leave this time for real and his heart seized painfully at the thought. 

“Please, Luce,” he pleaded again. The loss of Lucy would be unbearable for him as well as the agency. They needed her, he needed her. The helplessness of the situation hit him full force and Lockwood felt a shimmer of wetness collect in his eyes.

Lucy’s room could not go back to being ‘the attic,’ bare of her possessions. 35 Portland Row could not go back to being just him and George. And how long before George realized what a fuck-up he was and decided he’d had enough, too. Lockwood blinked away tears as he racked his brain of what to say to get Lucy to stay, not to leave him—

From his place in the center of the room he had a clear view out of the windows and onto the sunset. The sky seemed dipped in gold, bright enough to seem surreal and alter reality somehow. “It’s nearly curfew,” he said by way of argument. 

Lucy scoffed, not turning from her task of collecting her things. The pictures of her and Norrie were missing already, undoubtedly tucked safely between the pages of one of her books. “I can handle myself,” she said sternly.

It was evident that she could. Lockwood had been certain of it since the moment he met her. Her talent was spectacular, no doubt, but that did not mean she could safely navigate the haunted streets of London at Visitor-primetime. 

“Not against all of London at night,” he countered resolutely. It was reckless to try (he knew, he had) and she would likely end up hurt or worse and Lockwood could not bear to think of that. She is hurt already. He recalled her being flung against a wall by one of the Visitors and clutching her side on the way home. “And not when you’re hurt. How’s your side?”

“I’m fine,” she hissed, finally turning to set her eyes on him with a glare. “I don’t need you fussing over me when you’re the reason I’m hurt in the first place!” — Lockwood swallowed thickly, trying to push the shame and guilt to the back of his head — “I can’t do this anymore. This entire agency was a mistake, Lockwood. You’re just an amateur and it’s only a matter of time until someone gets seriously hurt because you’ve been careless again.”

Lockwood let her words sink in, crawl into his heart and rip him apart. Their profession came with a risk, they all knew that, but Lucy was right (of course she was). It was his name at the door, his agency. All that happened was his fault, in the end. He was responsible for them, he had to ensure their safety and he knew that was a weight he could hardly shoulder. How could he, when he passed that closed door every day and fought against the thoughts telling him he’d be better off at the bottom of the Thames. 

His agency was the only thing keeping him afloat. 

“I’ll do better. I swear, I’ll try,” he promised in a soft voice, willing Lucy to give him another chance. “I promise, this will never happen again.”

With a sigh containing all her disappointment and frustration, Lucy closed her suitcase. She was packed. Looking into his pleading eyes, she said coldly, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lockwood. It makes your words all the more hollow.”

He squeezed his eyes shut in an unusual display of hurt. Better than the alternative of having Lucy witness his tears. She was going to leave, he would lose the person he loved most in the world, at last. If this was it, he might as well lay his bruised heart at her feet. 

Lucy was gathering up her bags.

“Wait,” he breathed before clearing his throat and willing his voice not to break. “I cannot stand to watch you leave, Lucy. I—” he could not go on, emotions choking him. “I—”

“You what, Lockwood?” she nearly yelled at him, exasperated and impatient. Him trying to get her to stay did not make matters any easier for her. She was leaving her new family, after all. The second one. And it hurt, but she could not keep doing this anymore. It had become too much.

Lockwood took a deep breath and exhaled unevenly. “I love you,” he said, so quietly she nearly missed it. There it was, his heart in her hands, his walls torn down. He felt nauseous for how vulnerable he had made himself, for her— for Lucy.

She stepped back, letting her bags fall to the floor with a loud thump and stared at him with wide brown eyes, her mouth hanging open slightly in shock. 

A tense silence stretched between them and Lockwood was sure she could hear his heart form how loud it was beating behind his ribcage. 

Lucy’s gaze did not falter for a second, fixated on him and seemingly aimed right at his soul. “I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

And Lockwood could not breathe. 

“What?” he gasped, heartbreak evident in the strangled sound of his breaking voice. No, how could she not see.

Shaking her head slowly, Lucy composed herself, recovering from Lockwood’s confession. She set her jaw and picked up her bags again resolutely. “You are only saying this to get me to stay, but I can’t—” she broke off with a shaky breath. 

On her way towards the stairs, she halted next to him. “Here,” she whispered, leaving the necklace he had given her in the palm of his hand. Lockwood’s heart broke all over again and he clutched it to his chest tightly. “Goodbye, Lockwood.” Not again, please. He could not do this again.

As Lucy’s footsteps faded into nothingness on the stairs behind him and the front door shut softly, he allowed the tears to escape his eyes at last. 

This was why he kept his emotions under lock and key, buried in the recesses of his heart. They destroyed him, left him shattered and bleeding all over the halls of the enormous house he owned. Alone. ALways alone, in the end. 

Living under a thin blanket of apathy was better than this. Feeling nothing was better than the agonizing pain in his chest at her goodbye. ‘I don’t believe you.’ After so long, he nearly thought himself incapable of love as well. How could he blame her?

He heard the Thames calling to him. Wouldn’t it be nice to leave this all behind? In the end, what kept him from jumping? He wished he had jumped.

Instead, he fell to his knees in Lucy’s old room and gripped the bedsheets tightly. They still smelled like her — Lucy, his Lucy — and he tried to anchor himself against the sobs wracking his body and tearing him apart. The necklace was tucked away safely in his breast pocket, resting over his shattered heart.

#lockwood and co angst week #lockwood and co #save lockwood and co

[mama-qwerty]

So.

The Beetlejuice sequel.

Looks like everyone's back - Tim Burton, Winona Ryder, Catherine O'Hara. So that's good.

No sign of Barbara or Adam, which either means they 'moved on' or are being intentionally left out for a surprise reveal later.

So. Let's do some speculating from this 70-ish second trailer.

They're burying someone, which could be either Lydia's husband or father. Lydia's daughter doesn't look too upset, and they seem like they're probably in Winter River, so I'm gonna guess it's Charles. Delia looks kind of like she shut down, which I'm guessing she wouldn't do if it were Lydia's husband.

So, Charles is gone, and Lydia and her daughter are in town to help Delia maybe settle some things. Maybe they hadn't lived in the Maitland's house for a long time, and now that Charles (and presumably, the Maitlands themselves) is gone, they're gonna look into selling it. Or Lydia is going to move back.

Lydia's daughter finds the model in the attic. (It was in the living room at the end of the last movie, so I'm wondering why it was moved back up.) Maybe she's got Kid Troubles and feels like the outcast Lydia was when she was younger. Somehow, BJ is called forth.

Or maybe he isn't.

From that little bit where Lydia goes running into the attic and he appears ("The Juice is loose.") he doesn't seem like he's all "I'M BACK BITCH!" He almost seems . . . I dunno, like the estranged uncle coming back to a Christmas gathering after getting drunk a few years back and making a complete ass of himself. Not necessarily apologetic or sheepish, but kinda cautious, I guess?

Fundamentally, that's what Betelguise himself reminds me of. The drunk guy who thinks he's hilarious when he's just an obnoxious ass.

So there could be one of a few things happening.

Number one, BJ is doing 'community service' for all the trouble he caused. He was in the afterlife waiting room at the end of the last movie, and it's very possible he's been put to work for one reason or another to clear his ledger, so to speak.

Number two, Lydia's daughter found the Handbook of the Recently Deceased (or Lydia's diary from back then) and called him for reasons. And now he'll try and get fully released. (I'm really hoping they don't go this route because it would be a real waste to just rehash the 'gotta get married' plot of the first movie, just with Lydia's daughter.)

Number three, there's a bigger, badder antagonist, and BJ was called to help get rid of it. The other baddie's powers are no use against BJ's Looney Tunes logic.

Number four, Delia released him because she's in grief from the loss of Charles.

I could see them trying to keep BJ as this in-your-face asshole who does whatever he pleases, but I could also see him--as part of his community service--being forced to protect this family (sent by the Maitlands??) and begrudgingly forming a real friendship with Lydia's daughter.

Maybe his powers are weakening and he's worried about that. Maybe he feels like this is unfinished business and he wants revenge. Maybe he's just biding his time until he can unleash hell on those he feels have trapped him.

I'm hoping this will be entertaining and enjoyable. Hocus Pocus 2 had promise, but I was disappointed because it simply seemed to rehash the plot of the first one. I hope that isn't the case here.

#beetlejuice 2 #Youtube

[annabethwarriorprincess]

💃

STEPHANIE!!!

My Melodramatic Worstie!

No really, I do love her. She wakes up once every six months and decides to Cause Problems on Purpose.

Really Keeps things interesting.

I think that its fascinating that shes literally the same age as Trevor but they died at different points in their lives. Would love to see some interaction between them that wasn't just her sexually harassing him.

Speaking of, I do enjoy that dynamic. I feel like lesser writers would have had it be the typical Old Dude creeping on a Teenage Girl dynamic that was considered funny for far too long. I really like that they flipped that and have the Horny 54yrold perpetual teenager aggressively hitting on the 20/30something guy who's deeply creeped out at being hit on by a Teenager.

I'm glad they found a teenage boy Ghost for her to be with but I'm like 90% convinced that Ralph was the one who was actually Sucked Off, which would be super funny. Stephanie either mourning her short lived romance, or irate that he just Got What He Wanted from her and then Left. Either way it's hilarious.

Would love to see Issac and Alberta mess with her somehow just to cause Drama like the thing with Crashes head. Maybe they wake her up on purpose and frame one of the other ghosts? Oh, maybe Ralph starts getting flirty with Carol and they wake Stephanie up to end the Madness.

I would love to see her interact with Carol. They'd either be Gossiping Bitches torturing Pete and waging psychological war against the other Mean Girls ie Issac and Hetty, or at each other's throats for petty reasons and either way I would enjoy the dynamic.

I wonder what it was like for Stephanie when she first died, how she got along with the other Ghosts, and how did she wind up living in the Attic.

I would love to learn more about her life. Aside from being murdered on Prom Night because her date was a horny asshat, what was life like for Stephanie?

#ghosts cbs #cbs ghosts #cbs ghosts ask meme #cbs ghosts Stephanie #cbs ghosts season 3 #cbs ghosts spoilers

[music-among-the-amapolas]

The walk home was deathly cold and absolutely terrible. Tallulah clutched her wet clothes, both the set she borrowed and the one she brought to the lake, shivering in Phil’s arms as the avian trudged through the storm. His wings were up, shielding their heads from what was certainly flying denim- and there was a line on Phil’s temple where a zipper had struck hard enough to bleed. Tallulah did her best to wipe it, at first, but the rain thwarted that effort, and it instead mixed and dripped down her guardian’s face. 

He looked tense. Tallulah was starting to suspect this might be hurting him, wings hiked up like that, pelted again and against by thick, wet fabric. It couldn’t have been comfortable.

Finally, finally, he speaks. She knew this was coming. “Tallulah… you should’ve told me where you were going. What if I hadn't known, and you had gotten swept up in this storm? What if you ended up like Charlie? Or worse?”

Again, with the worry. Always with worry. She was growing to hate it as much as she loved it, wrapped up in his arms as they fought through the wind and the rain. Which was sad, of course, because she loved her abuelito with everything she had; and she knew why he was like this- Why he held her like he was going to lose her at any moment- like the slip of his fingers or the let up of his wings might send her spiraling into the depths of the unknown and leave him in the wake of another empty room. There had always been something tragic about him. She suspected she wouldn’t be the first to leave him alone in the cold, should he ever let go.

But at the same time, it felt like poison and left a deep sour taste on the back of her tongue. Acting like this. Like her father- when her real one was somewhere out there, somewhere else, avoiding this horrific storm. 

And avoiding her. 

In her memory, the attic was always too cold or too hot. Stuffy with heat that had her head swimming, left her sweating and palming desperately at the floorboards in an attempt to escape it. Heat rose, it only ever got worse, and she could do nothing but press herself down and cry louder in the hopes someone would hear her. The cold was never better. She could cover her bare feet with her tail and burrow into the thin shirt she had been wearing, but there was nothing else she could do. No way to warm her body as it shook and trembled. She just had to wait. That was all she had, memories of a life she knew she had before blurred and marred. Faces of siblings she couldn't quite remember- people she couldn't quite see. She just had to wait, forgotten.

So she did. And finally, when the light broke in and blinded her, she was graced with the sight of a man she was meant for- and, of course, Tío Fit. But when Wilbur picked her up that first time, laughing loudly when she wrote out that she had been eating dirt- it was a different kind of feeling. A warmth that had pooled from her stomach and rose sharply, but never boiled over and never burned. She felt loved. And it had been so so exciting- growing to be accepted and loved despite Wilbur’s reservations.

But Wilbur was gone. He went to pursue his own goals and life, and Tallulah was left behind again. So loved, she knew, and she was so happy to let him live his life- but it still stung. It still hurts.

And now Phil was acting like it was him who was her father. As if it had been him who found her. And somehow, that stings just as bad. Because Phil already had a kid. He had a family- an admittedly a little broken one, but a family nonetheless. And Tallulah-

Tallulah didn't quite fit.

She wanted to. She wanted a family. She wanted two parents who loved her, in a nice house. Chayanne wouldn’t have to protect her all the time if she always had a parent there. Phil wouldn’t be so damn tired all the time if he wasn’t trying to care for two kids almost entirely on his own like this. It wasn’t fair. 

Instead, poor little attic girl got the runaway dad. And it’s not like she could fight, so she’s left as a burden. What a joke. Phil was trying to replace the father that she had wanted,the mother she couldn’t remember- it was a downwards spiral, really.

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have to tell you everything I do.” She murmurs, baffled at the way he twitches in response. How did he even hear her over the rain? “I just wanted to hang out with my friends. You would've seen it if you were online more.”

“You know I’m not good at seeing posts.” Phil murmurs softly. “Kiddo, I wouldn’t have stopped you… I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m not a baby!” She snaps, wiggling. Phil has to pause, wings flailing out on instinct, only for him to get caught in the back of the head by the objects flying up from the storm. It takes her a minute to get out of his arms while he’s stunned, her clothes landing with a gross, wet slosh on the ground. “I wanted to feel normal! I wanted to go away for a little bit! And then you and Chayanne ruined it!”

“Don’t be like that, Tallulah.” Phil just sighed. He extended his wings more. It no longer protected him, he was simply trying to shield her. She wasn’t stupid. She saw that, too. She also saw the havoc it was wrecking on the appendages. Feathers in disarray from the constant, rapid barrage of items, soaking wet from the water making its way into the mussed feathers. It was probably heavier than even Phil was, ruining the oils keeping his feathers clean and safe. 

Phil always got so nervous when Chayanne got his feathers wet. Something about how easy it was for birds and other feathered species to get sick. She wondered if her Abuelito would get sick trying to get her home.

It makes her feel worse, then, when he kneels down.

“Can we talk about this at home?” He asks softly, eyebrows tucked together. The longer she stares, the more she thinks he might be in pain. Silently, they hold this stare.

Slowly, eventually, she gives up. She gathers her now muddy things, he gathers her back into his arms, and they continue on their way back home in silence. She pretends not to notice every time Phil winces from being pelted, or every time he shudders.

Guilt battles rage. She covers her eyes with her fists and, in return, he pretends not to notice she’s crying.

All the things we never talk about, you know?

#yaoiverse #straightverse #musical notes #beloved abuelito (phil)

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Perfection, Chapter 8 - Perfect Strangers

Aziraphale and Crowley live in a heartbreakingly perfect world. There is no sadness. There is no loss. Every day, the sun rises on an idyllic peace far beyond mortal imagination.

The end of the old world brought Salvation. Justice. Perfection.

But not everything is what it seems. And one angel learns that perfection cannot be bought without great pain.

Aziraphale and Crowley awake again, and find a far less welcoming reality full of strange people...

(CW: This chapter will contain violence, torture, and panic attacks. please heed the warnings.)

Read on AO3!

The voices outside ended in a rumble of heavy footsteps, rapidly receding, and Aziraphale began to relax. He had a moment to register his surroundings—bare wood floor and walls, sloping ceiling with exposed rafters; a small attic room with the bed in the center, lit by a small window on either side—before he realized the door was opening.

In a wave of panic, he dropped back onto the bed, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

The soft pad of feet, the occasional creaking of a board. Someone moving about the room. Two someones, possibly more. He could hear them whispering, but couldn’t make out the words over the sound of his own breathing. Was it too loud? Too fast? Could they hear how his heart thundered in his chest? He ordered it to slow down, but to no avail.

Still, he could outwardly appear to be sleeping. As the footsteps drew closer, he lay as naturally as possible, forcing his muscles to unclench. Evenly timed breaths. A bit of eye movement. Occasional finger twitches. Nothing to make the strangers suspect—

“Liar,” a soft voice said.

[Below the cut is an excerpt from a Crowley scene, here called Prisoner Thirty-Eight, which is not violent but does have a lot of lingering pain/injuries.]

The dream melted into nothing, and for a moment he floated, peacefully, in a place where nothing really existed. It was lonely, but not distressing.

Fingers brushed the side of his face. “Time to get up,” a quiet voice said.

Not yet, Angel. He reached out tiredly, searching for Aziraphale’s hand.

The fingers grabbed his ear, twisting hard. “I said, get up.”

Prisoner Thirty-Eight was awake in an instant, trying to fight off the attacker.

Trying, but not succeeding; every part of him had gone stiff and sore, and not just from sleeping on the cold floor. Shooting pains raced through every muscle, his joints screamed at the idea of bending, and he couldn’t see anything. He could barely even lift his arm, never mind his head, but he managed it somehow, scrubbing uselessly at his eyes. One was still crusted with blood, but he got the other open, blinking against the painfully bright light.

A figure stood over him. Human. Youngish, but they all looked youngish now. Brown hair, dark blue eyes. Pretty, in a generic sort of way. Vaguely familiar. Someone from the Tower, though he wore dark clothes instead of the pure white robes of the guards. 

Behind the human stood two more figures, demons, each holding a bucket at arm’s length. Two of the many identical demons, looking identically anxious, though the one on the left seemed a little less filthy. For some reason, they were chained together by the ankle.

“There we go,” the human said, in an almost sing-song voice, smiling in a way that might have been encouraging, were it not for the cold gleam in his eyes. “Prisoner Thirty-Eight. They told me so much about you.” He crouched down, pushing aside Thirty-Eight’s hair to study his face, the depth of his wounds. Eyeing him like a piece of meat, like a dog about to be sent into the dogfighting ring. “I’m going to be watching over you for a few days. Special request from the Archangels. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Read the rest on AO3!

#good omens #good omens angst #whump #ineffable husbands #good omens prime #crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #good omens fanart #good omens fanfiction #emotional whump #cw violence #cw torture #cw panic attack #just a lot of cw #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #there is in fact a little comfort in this chapter #and a lot of hurt #au heaven won the apocalypse #my writing #fanfiction #my wip #perfection #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

[ml-typhonverse]

Kwami’s Background

So, we know what happened to Duusu since Fu lost all the miraculouses. But Typhon won’t be the only miraculous holder in this story. He needs some other wielders to fight against, to sic his sentimonsters on, to (hopefully) eventually lose to. The kwamis need to show up somehow, or at least three of them do.

After Fu loses the miraculouses, it takes a few weeks for him to recover from his heroic bsod. Once he pulls himself together, he goes back to the abandoned temple to find that someone, or a group of someones, has come and found all the miraculouses. He eventually tracks them down in a city nearby, where all  of them have been sold off except for the Turtle.

So Fu spends the time between then and the present day tracking down the scattered miraculouses. Sometimes he’s lucky and able to buy them from someone, while other times he’s forced to steal. (Yes, he robbed a few museums in his lifetime. No, he’s not proud of it.) Sometimes he goes decades without finding one, but Fu never stops searching. He has a lot to make up for.

Around the time that Typhon starts building up his espionage empire, Fu is hunting down the Rabbit. Thanks to all the time travel and burrows, at least 86 people have the Rabbit in their hands at one time, and Fu isn’t quite sure which one is his. Half of them go back in time to make themselves rich using the lottery. The other half decide this is a great way to murder past tyrants and evildoers in the past. Fu is kind of sick of having to save Hitler so many times.

But while Fu is busy trying to keep the timeline from collapsing and retrieve Fluff, the three miraculouses that our heroes will wield are having vastly different experiences. Those three are the Ladybug earrings, the Black Cat ring, and the Fox necklace.

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

Tikki probably has the easiest time among the three. The earrings were mistaken for a pair of cuff links at first by a rich Englishman traveling through China at the time. He never got the chance to wear them though, as he was robbed on his way back to his hotel. The thief immediately sold off the earrings and they were passed from hand to hand without anyone wearing them for a while.

Eventually, they ended up in Korea, in a little town along the border between the North and South. A young man bought them as an apology gift for his wife, hoping to rekindle their relationship after his discovered affair with her cousin. His wife took the earrings, and promptly kicked him out for good. She hid the box away, telling her children that no one was to open that box ever while she lived.

And they never did. Tikki remained dormant for decades, with the box shut and locked up in the woman’s attic until the day she died. After her funeral, her things were shipped overseas to America, where her children had immigrated around 60 years ago. The boxes were stored in the attic of her only grandchild, slowly being opened and sorted into what would be kept and what would be sold off.

Eventually, her great-grandchild opens the box and finds the earrings. Happy about finding some new and free earrings, they put them on...and Tikki is released for the first time in years.

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

While Tikki was stored away, Plagg was the most active of the three kwami during the time skip. Destruction is a powerful tool, and Plagg had too many holders to count. All of them part of the criminal underworld.

His ring was bought by a young man recently turned out by his parents and looking to make his way in the world. He popped it on, and Plagg found himself bound to the first of many cruel wielders. The man had some leadership skills, and using those along with fear was able to swiftly form a surprisingly effective criminal gang. It helped that Cataclysm was very good at keeping rebellion down; no one wanted to be disintegrated.

But Plagg’s wielder grew cocky, and he had loose lips after a couple of drinks. Rumors swiftly spread of the ring that gave him his power, and the bold and the stupid were willing to try their luck to get it for themselves. A knife in the back and the ring was on a new finger, one just as cruel and callous as the old.

And that was the pattern of Plagg’s life for years. He’d get a new wielder (who would never bother to get him some decent cheese), be stuck with them for around a year or so, and then they’d get killed by someone and Plagg’s ring would adorn a new finger. The ring stuck to China for a while until one wielder decided it was better to skip town and head to America, where hopefully no one knew of the ring’s power. Too bad the rumors flew faster than he did; this one died before he got off the boat.

Eventually, Plagg’s latest wielder gets on someone’s bad side. But this one is smarter, or at least less ruthless, than the rest. Instead of a knife to the back, the finger with the ring gets sliced off, and then falls off once it hits the ground. For the first time in decades, Plagg is free. So he seizes the chance, grabs the ring, and streaks off into the rainy night. In the dark, no one sees him vanish.

Once he feels he’s far enough away, Plagg takes stock. He could find a spot to store the ring and hide; it’s done too much damage over the years and there’s been no ladybug to fix things. He could try to track down the guardians, who would probably just lock him up again if they still exist. He could look for Tikki on his own, but where would he start?

That’s when Plagg notices the kid nearby. It’s rainy and dark, sometime past midnight so this kid probably shouldn’t be outside. But they’re hard at work building some kind of shelter. Plagg takes a peek and realizes it’s not for the kid, but instead for a scrawny stray cat, tail curled around a litter of kittens. The kid’s thin, but they shove a small bowl of cat food at the mother before turning to leave. Kindness. Plagg hasn’t had any of that in too long.

So he takes a chance. He flies over to that kid and shoves the ring in their face. At least this one will be his choice.

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

Trixx’s years outside the box are an odd combination between Plagg and Tikki. Like Plagg, the necklace is bought and its power quickly discovered. Unlike Plagg, the man who bought it is part of the local government and immediately realizes its value. Using the power of Mirage, he cements his role as a spy for the government to protect the people. Trixx is thrilled. At first.

But Trixx doesn’t stay with this man. Instead, the miraculous is considered government property, which is stored away when not needed and sent out at their leisure. Trixx has many wielders over the years, all spies and none lasting more than a mission or two. If the spy got caught, then the necklace would be dropped in the hands of a new government, to use in pursuit of their goals instead.

Trixx is a loyal kwami. So the constant passing around really wore at his soul in a way that Plagg’s jadedness protected him from. It didn’t help that he’d often be locked away for a few years before being sent out again, especially with a government change. Trixx was very lonely.

But he was also very clever. Eventually, he managed to fall into the hands of a spy for hire, selling her skills to the highest bidder. While Trixx knew manipulating her wouldn’t produce results, she did have a teenage daughter. An arrogant one, who was easily tricked. It didn’t take much for Trixx to encourage her to swipe the necklace from her mother, to use for simpler things like popularity.

So as she strode out of the office her mother used with the box tucked away in a pocket of her backpack, Trixx slipped out and unzipped the bag from the inside. A solid push and a lucky bounce and the box fell free to land on an empty stairwell. Now Trixx just had to watch and wait for someone to come buy. Someone he could guide into using the miraculous for good, as most of his wielders refused to.

What he didn’t expect was the sentibeing to come by and pick up the box.

#typhonverse #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous kwamis #miraculous ladybug fu #story building #story background #tikki #plagg #trixx

[geisthouse]

"PTOLEMAEA"

Inspired by Ethel Cain's song Ptolemaea and very loosely follows PD's lore.

CW: Violence, Murder

  I watched a bird fly from one side of the window to the other, landing on a thin tree branch, it bobbed slightly under its weight and then balanced out as the bird hopped closer to the base of the tree. 

I stared out the window from the floorbound mattress. He wrapped me in blankets before he left but the attic was more stuffy than drafty so, I ended up pulling them off of me in my sleep.

It had been a few days since we got there, he didn’t want me going outside but I could leave the attic if I needed to. He hid my shoes on the first day and I haven’t had any luck finding them– I suspect they’re in his truck. I was mad at him for taking them from me but, I guessed we’d be on our way out of this state sooner or later and I could have them back.  My stomach grumbled for the second time since I woke up, but sleep weighed so heavily on my body that I just couldn’t get out of bed. He kept me up half the night ranting about how his business here was taking too long to end and we should’ve been out of here a while ago. I tried to calm him down, but I realized I just had to let him get it out of his system.  When he left he said he’d come back with food, though, it had been hours since then. I sat up too quickly and felt woozy— Fuck, I need food. 

I slowly got up but swayed a bit on my feet and lumbered to the ladder. I had been scared of going up and down it, it was creaky, unfinished wood that’s probably been untouched for years. Somehow, I got down without falling and headed to the kitchen.

The fridge was empty except for a stack of American cheese slices, lunch meat, and two six-packs of beer. I pulled a can from the ring and took the ham and cheese from the shelf. The bread was on the counter and I grabbed one of the three plates from the cabinet. The kitchen was joined with the living room and there were two windows on either side of the wall and a fireplace built into the wall. This would’ve been a nice place for an average person to live if it wasn’t so removed. I made my sandwich, grabbed my beer, and headed out of the kitchen. 

Back upstairs, I sat on the mattress and ate. The attic was a fair size, there was a big dark wooden dresser next to the head of the mattress, and boxes were stacked against the wall closest to the far window. My attic back home was around the same size but it was filled to the brim with my grandmother’s old stuff. My mother never had the time to go through it and the rest of the family (the ones that talked to us, anyway) didn’t think she had anything precious to take. I used to go up there and rifle through her old letters, clothes, and jewelry. I stole one of her lockets when I was about twelve and my father yelled at me for wearing it but, when he died, I wore it to his funeral and every day afterward.

During our stay here, we littered the ground with pill bottles, take-out containers, cigarette butts— all of that bullshit. I realized I didn’t know what time it was. I judged by the shadows on the ground that it would have been around mid-afternoon, the fact that I hadn’t been sure put me on edge. 

I finished my sandwich and put the plate on the floor. I stood, walked to the window, and looked out of it, down at the ground. The tree mostly obscured it, but the sliver of the world I could see wasn’t much of anything: dirt and patches of grass led to a larger woodland. I sighed, leaning my forehead against the glass, it was cool on my skin— a fairly pleasant sensation. My eyes trailed down to the hardwood floor; maybe I’ll go back to sleep. There was a stray pill bottle at my feet, separate from the others in the pile across the room. The label was ripped off but whatever it said before probably wasn’t what was in there anymore. I plucked it from the ground and it gave a low rattle as I opened it. A few pills were left in there, all uniform: white and ovalish. I poured two out and I took it— whatever it was— and washed it down with the rest of the beer. I closed the cap and lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling until I drifted off again.

I woke up to the sound of shuffling. He was back. The sun had almost completely set but the remnants of fading blue light would hold on for at least another couple of minutes. I rolled over in bed to see what he was doing; the light coming from the stairs below was just enough to illuminate him, he was looking through one of the boxes.

“Goddammit!” He threw something back into the box.

I shot right up, fighting the fact that my head was spinning,  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He jerked at the sound of my voice but waved me off seconds later, “It’s nothing.”

I put my head in my lap to recoup, “It’s dark out,” I said looking back up, “Where have you been all day?”

“You ask too many questions, you know that?”

“I was just making conversation.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Fine.” I groped in the dark for the little lamp I plugged in at the foot of the bed. My hands found the embossed brass base and clicked it on. I could see his face now, he looked…different. Harsher. Something was behind his eyes and it made him even more guarded than usual. He loomed at the other end of the room, glaring at me. I sank into myself, pulling my knees up to my chest. His frown deepened and his expression turned to obvious anger. He stepped forward. 

“I thought I told you not to go outside.”

“You did…”

“So why’d you do it?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Your feet are dirty.”

I checked the soles of my feet and they were blackened with grime, “My feet are dirty because the floor is dirty.” 

“You’re such a little liar! You could mess up this whole plan– our plan, remember?” He pointed at me, “You’re considered a missing person, they’re saying I kidnapped you– do you want me to go to jail?”

“No, I don’t! Even if I did go out, we’re in the middle of the woods, there’s no one around more miles!”

“Get up.” He demanded.

“What?”

“Stand up.”

I scrambled to my feet, he closed the gap between us and got up in my face. His forehead was uncomfortably sweaty and his pupils were dilated like saucers. I tried softening my tone, “Hey, maybe you should lay down, you don’t look–”

“No,” he lowered his voice but kept the same intensity, “If you wanna leave so bad then do it.”

“What?”

“Do it. Run. Run back to your mama and your piece of shit town where they can laugh and beat the shit out of you for being a fucking freak. I accepted you, I wanted you to come with me because I knew you wouldn’t survive there!”

I could only stutter, trying to tell him that I didn’t want to go. 

“Run, or I’ll fucking kill you!” He yelled, pushing me back onto the mattress. I didn’t know if he was serious or not and I didn’t want to find out. I bolted back up and rushed to the ladder behind him. I didn’t know how I climbed down that thing so fast but I hit the floor in no time and started down the other set of stairs. 

That’s when I heard him following me.

He was shouting my name along with every epithet he could call me. I stumbled to the kitchen in hopes of finding his keys. I thanked God for the first time in a while because there they were sitting on the countertop. I grabbed them and headed in the opposite direction towards the door. 

He was at the bottom of the stairs. I undid the deadbolt and the lock and swung open the door. The cool night breeze cut through me and I felt a swell of ecstasy, but it came as soon as it went, his truck wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It was dead black out there at night and he usually parked in front of the door just in case we had to make a quick exit. I was about to book it to the road on the slim chance I’d run into another car, but I felt his big arms wrap around my middle and hoist me up. I started to scream and I couldn’t stop. I dropped the keys on the porch as he dragged me back inside.

I wriggled in his grasp as he carried me into the kitchen. He let go suddenly and I dropped to the floor with a hard thud. I struggled back up and tried to run passed him but he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the ground. Before I could get up again, he knelt over top of me, ‘Stay down’ he kept saying. I thrashed and kicked but he got my arms under him. I whined out a series of ‘Please’, ‘Don’t do this’, and ‘I love you’. He barked at me to shut up and, when I wouldn’t, he put his hands around my neck. I pleaded with him but he squeezed his hands tight. I couldn’t breathe– I couldn’t speak– I couldn’t think. It couldn’t have been for more than two minutes but it felt truly infinite.  

And then, he let up. He took all of his weight off me and got up from the floor. The sudden rush of air and lightness was a shock to my system; I knew I needed to move but my body and my brain weren’t working in tandem anymore. He wasn’t far away, I heard drawers open and shut. I was able to sit up on my elbows but the clanging stopped and his shadow bore over me. I braced myself to look up– he gripped a kitchen knife. I screamed no and he dropped back to his knees, held me to the floor, and thrust the knife down.

It pierced my stomach. The obtrusion stung– almost burned. He left it there for a moment as if he was unsure of what he was doing. 

There is a knife in me. 

He tightened his grip on it and pulled it out; blood came with it. I groaned. He brought it up…and down again. Warm blood filled my throat and mouth and I spewed it out. I couldn’t lift my head. I felt the knife everywhere on my torso, and then the feeling faded away– it stopped at some point but I didn’t know when. Either way, it was done, I wasn’t breathing, I was still, I was dead. My eyes, however, were open. The ceiling and part of the counter was all there was for me. 

An hour passed and nothing else happened.

He reappeared over me, covered in blood from his face to his shirt. He had a ghastly look on his face. He kneeled to the ground and was struggling with something around me. He pulled off my shirt and did the same with my jeans and underwear. He left and took my clothes with him. And, again, that was it for a while. 

The next time he came back, he looked considerably filthier. His nails were caked in black dirt and there was a large patch of sweat on the front of his shirt. He lifted me and brought me outside. 

There was a fire going, orange light flickered off the trees, making living shadows on the ground. He put me down a ways away from the flame, my head lolled to the side, facing it. There was a shovel lodged in the ground next to a pile of dirt. He picked up my clothes which were lying in a heap on the ground and tossed them into the fire. He watched them burn.

He didn’t notice my eyes on him. 

He pulled up the shovel and began to dig again however, gave up after a short while. 

He came to me, gawking like he noticed something strange. He moved his hand just below my collar and tore my locket from me, examining then pocketing it.

He took me up and placed me in my grave. The sun was starting to come up, it was as blue-gray as the sunset before. He began to shovel dirt over me, all without closing my eyes.

#my writing #horror writing #ethel cain #preacher's daughter #long post #fiction writing

[biblioquotables]

‘Are you going to tell me you don’t want me?’ she demanded. ‘Because you’ve only to nod and it’ll save you the trouble.’

‘No, I’m not,’ he replied hastily. ‘Something quite different.’

‘Then I know what it is,’ she went on, ‘and I’m going to tell you. You were just going to point out that you hadn’t much money and didn’t exactly know where you were going to earn any and that I’d have a damned thin time, weren’t you? I knew you were. Well, that doesn’t matter. If you really like me enough, we can have some fun together and manage somehow. To begin with, I can get a job. I really have been in the chorus, you know—though lately I’ve been resting—though I’ve not had much from Bill, you needn’t think it; he’s not been keeping me really—and I can go back to the chorus. If there’s nothing doing there, I can easily get a job of some sort—there’s a girl I know managing a milliner’s who’d get me into the shop. And we’d find a cheap little flat, high up, somewhere not too far out, and if you found anything at all to do, we’d manage all right. I know I’d be pretty rotten, and you probably wouldn’t be comfortable at first. I can’t do much—something quick and easy on a gas-ring is about my limit in cooking—but I’d try and I’d be happy so long as you didn’t curse me too often. I know what it means, of course; I’m not a kid. Living like that with anybody else but you would be little hell; but with you it would be all different—there’d be fun and excitement all the time—and we’d go roaming round together and talk and talk about everything, just as we’ve been doing to-night, and we wouldn’t feel lost and lonely any more. I know I’m not the sort of girl you used to think about—like that other one—but I understand; and if you ever got depressed I’d tease you out of it and then love you hard—Oh! you must think I’m silly.’ A little choked cry, and she had flung her arms round him and was pressing her face against his.

‘My dear, my dear,’ he found himself saying. He saw the two of them crazily garreting it together somewhere above the bus tops; laughing or grousing together if nothing came off; jubilant over the occasional wind-falls; rushing one another into life. He was holding her close now, was protective, soothing; yet all the time he had a dim feeling that it was he who was finding comfort, sustenance itself, in this happy weight in his arms. Here was the way back into things. But he wouldn’t sneak up to share her attic. His own idea, mad as it seemed, was better than that. They’d get married, risk all and then plunge in together. No doubt people were right, he’d wanted the moon; now he’d start again and simply want cheese; and perhaps in the end he’d find that the moon was made of cheese after all.

— J.B. Priestley, Benighted (1922)

#book quotes #booklr #just my type (tm) #j b priestley #benighted #1922 #1920s #horror #suspense #confessions #confidences #revelations #propositions #proposals #relationships #love and romance #city life #modern life #hope #future #ambition #aspirations #potential #happiness #metaphor #cohabitation #companionship #love and marriage #affection

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They’re- Oh Crap They’re Barbatos’ Kid!

This is the second part of that one request I answered for Dia and Barb’s possible kids. Sorry this took so long! Writer’s block, y’know? Anyhoo~ enjoy, everyone!

This story didn’t start on the first day of the exchange program, it started five days before in Barbatos’ room at three in the morning with the poor butler waking up in a cold sweat.

Oh dear, it appeared the exchange program would be up in a bit of a tizzy. He had… a child? Oh my… Barbatos hoped the young master wouldn’t be too miffed about the student not being a totally normal human.

On the day of the exchange program, Barbatos insisted he had to be present for the event, he carefully pushed a cushioned sofa in the drop zone before opening the portal. The child fell right out of the sky and landed perfectly on the couch, they were already wearing a helmet and looked quite shocked by the cushioned fall.

Well, it was a big shock to the assembled crowd, but the child gave everyone a lopsided smile and removed their helmet.

“So, I assume I’m here for the exchange program?”

Dadbatos

Well, this child was incredibly… what was the word the kids were using? chill? They were quite chill considering the situation, and was surprisingly prepared for the sudden drop into hell.

“Oh, I had a dream that this was going to happen, and I dream about the future n’stuff. I thought I’d come prepared.” “Ah, that’s very sensible.”

Diavolo recovered quickly from his shock and was positively delighted to meet this little munchkin. He insisted that they had to stay with their dad.

MC was polite, if not a bit overly calm about a lot of things. They didn’t run off to start trouble, and they didn’t seem very impressed by the Devildom itself. It was sort of like this child had a very low maximum level of excitement. Barbatos was glad his child wasn’t some little hellraiser.

He was never a child himself, so he’s a bit clueless about what children actually enjoy. Here child, have a… have an old torture weapon. Don’t use it on anyone who doesn’t deserve it :)

(I’m kidding, Barbatos is too responsible to give one of his instruments of torture to a child. That’s for when they’re older.)

“MC,” Barbatos knocked on his child’s door. “Have you done your homework?”

MC answered the door with a grin on their face. “Yep, done this week’s and next week’s. I’m getting a head start on the potions project due next week.”

Barbatos almost breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank the stars his child was responsible, it already took a big chunk of his energy to make sure Diavolo didn’t get distracted from his paperwork. Though, his stress levels did rise a tad when he got a glimpse at the mess in MC’s room.

“Are you going to clean that?”

“Nah,” MC shrugged. “It’s whatever. I know where everything is and nothing’s a fall risk. See you at dinner, father.”

And with that, MC shut the door. Well… no child was perfect.

As much as MC’s lack of cleanliness bothers Barbatos, he knows his kid isn’t being maliciously lazy, just for the love of the Demon King please stop leaving cups on the coffee tables without a coaster!

Oh yeah, Luke has a big sib. Sorry- little sib, because Luke isn’t some chihuahua child, he’s a totally mature grown-up Angel.

Barbatos is the type of father who will let his child go off and have whatever kind of fun they want as long as they don’t slack on their important duties.

Barbs also has a goddamn torture dungeon so we here at Stupid Headcanons inc. do NOT recommend trying to eat MC. Doing so may result in you wishing you were dead.

Don’t fuck with the butler.

Lucifer

…out of literally everyone in the room, the last person Lucifer expected to have a secret scandal baby… had a scandal baby. Damn.

At least the human wouldn’t have to live with him and his brothers. The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Barbatos to be even more aware of the chaos that went down in that house every single day.

MC and Lucifer have a healthy level of respect for one another, but Lucifer just can’t shake the feeling that this kid is messing with him somehow.

Just, little things… MC offering him fruit and loudly assuring him that it was just blackberries and nothing poisonous, asking if the RAD uniform suits his tastes, proclaiming that the dirt was high quality-

SOMEONE TOLD MC ABOUT LUCIFER’S FIRST VISIT TO THE DEVILDOM!

MC wasn’t exactly visibly goading him, they said everything with an innocent smile on their face.

When MC starts getting nosy with the attic, he’s not terribly sure how to deal with it. He was going up against a child that could at least partially tell the future. After the first time Lucifer told them to scram, they never went back to the steps… at least not when Lucifer was there to guard it…

After everything goes down, Lucifer is glad that MC wasn’t hurt or anything. He’d come to like the child and it’d be awful to lose the only person who could get his more hyperactive brothers to calm down.

Mammon

Mammon wasn’t present for the meeting, but when he was informed later, the news was met with an eloquent: “the fuck? Huh, wild.”

He isn’t too interested in MC at first. At least until the little runt saved him from getting busted for skipping class. Mammon was just eating his lunch in the courtyard when MC passed by and calmly told him that if he skipped class he should not hang out in the west staircase because Lucifer was going to walk down those steps during third period.

At first Mammon tried to brush off the warning, but ended up listening to the kid anyway, and what do ya know! He didn’t get caught by Lucifer!

That’s when it clicked that MC could see the future, right? Right?! Ya know what Mammon could use that for?! Right?!

Gambling! Scams! Schemes! General shennaniganery!

MC wasn’t terribly enthused about the entire situation, so they may have messed with Mammon a little. Just a bit.

It’s not like Mammon ever listened when MC told him to cut his losses and leave the casino anyway 🙄

Leviathan

First reaction? Thank the anime gods that there wouldn’t be another normie living in the house with him…

Reaction upon hearing that the MC was Barb’s kid? Really? Barbatos? Wow… well, to be fair Levi totally understood why someone would be attracted to Barbatos, I mean, Levi’s watched plenty of anime involving butlers, but Barbatos actually having a living breathing child? Damn.

But still, Levi wasn’t going to hang out with some normie brat. He had better and nerdier things to devote his time to.

Whenever MC visited, Levi was up in his room. But once MC decided to poke their head in the door while Levi was in the middle of gamer raging.

They calmly sat Levi down and explained to him that he could be upset about whatever happened in his game, but lashing out wasn’t going to fix anything or make him better at the actual game.

…damn it… they were right.

Slowly but surely Levi and MC built up a friendship, and the brothers rejoiced at the lack of rage related Lotan summons.

Satan

Out of everything Satan could have possibly expected from the second exchange student, this was not one of them.

Satan began to wonder exactly how MC’s powers worked, he didn’t exactly have any concrete data to compare them to because Barbatos was so mysterious

Hm, how very interesting. Satan decided that it was up to him to satiate his own curiosity and began to study MC. To be honest, MC wasn’t being terribly interesting.

They were a pretty normal kid all things considered. MC went to class, made friends, did their work, very very normal. Well, except for the fact that they seemed to dodge practically every unfortunate thing that could have happened to them.

They’d stop at the perfect time to avoid something accidentally being spilled on them, they always had pencils ready, and they always seemed to know exactly when a teacher was coming… mad sus.

Satan eventually confronted MC about this, and they just shrugged and explained that they tend to dream about what was most likely to happen the next day and would adjust their actions accordingly.

It may have been anticlimactic, but MC did inform Satan that there would be a cat in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.

HE NEEDED TO GO!

Asmodeus

Asmo had genuinely been looking forward to the new exchange program, he was excited to have a new face around the house to shake things up! He loves his dear brothers but spending thousands of years with them makes their shenanigans become a bit… well, a bit boring.

But my oh my, the new face was being obscured by that tacky bicycle helmet… the new face looked an awful lot like Barbatos…

Once Asmo registered what was going on, he was positively enchanted with the little half human. They were just so cute! They looked like a baby Barbatos with those adorably chubby cheeks!

Oh Barbatos~ he just had to let Asmo babysit!

When Asmo managed to sweep MC away for a fun day with shifty uncle Solomon, he was reminded of all the shenanigans that he, Barbatos, and Solomon used to get up to.

*sigh, Barbie was always so busy… no time for a fun night of torture, chaos, and revelry

Anyhoodles~ MC was always such a relaxed little thing. They let Asmo vent whenever any awful tragedies occur, like when Asmo finds a sweater that isn’t in his size… *sniffle*

Beelzebub

A child of Barbatos? The best cook in the three realms Barbatos?! …hey kid want to hang out with cool uncle Beel?

Beel tried everything in his power to get MC to make him food. I mean, the genetic disposition for making good food has to have been passed down from father to child!

When MC finally made Beel food, he was ecstatic!

…Until the food touched Beel’s tongue and he realized it wasn’t good, it was just… okay. Average. Passable.

Aw man… but the kid looked so excited to have made something for Beel…

Beel really hammed up his reaction to make MC feel better. Beel was like “Wow. So good. Amazing.” “Thanks Beel.”

Very sweet child, they don’t mind being used in place as a dumbell.

Belphegor

Damn, and here Belphie was, thinking Barbatos has standards. Apparently not!

When MC went and walked up the attic steps, Belphie was almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. This human had been a pain in the rear to call up, so he was excited to finally get a good look at them. And lo and behold, a half demon child of Lord Diavolo’s butler.

MC grinned and greeted Belphie first, using his name and asking why the Avatar of Sloth was stuck up in the attic of his own home when he was supposed to be in the human world. Belphie was flabbergasted and didn’t exactly know how to respond.

He came up with a new plan quickly. Belphie didn’t exactly know how this kid’s powers worked, so he’d continue with trying to trick them into opening the attic door. Allowing Belphie to end their miserable little life and thus ruining the exchange program.

The child continued to visit Belphie up in the attic, relaying the events of what was going on, and Belphie continued to play the part of prisoner. Until one day in particular…

MC appeared in front of the door, looking a tad more unkempt than normal, they weren’t smiling their usual carefree smile either. Their eyes bore holes into Belphegor’s skull as they flared at him.

“How long have you been planning on killing me?”

MC had seen the future where they died at Belphie’s hand, and they sure as hell were not going to let him out of the attic after that. Though, they did tell Belphie about Lilith’s true fate before they left, and assured Belphie they had no reason to lie to him about something he wasn’t directly involved in.

So, Belphie did get let out of the attic eventually, and even though MC smiled and welcomed him back all the same, there would always a barrier between the two. Broken trust wasn’t easy to mend, after all.

#I just like to think that the kid just carries weapons with them in their bag #But they never use the weapons for what they’re SUPPOSED to be used for #Like- MC: Oh yea this is meant for pulling out teeth but it’s big and heavy enough that I can just clobber someone with it #obey me #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor

[endlich-allein]

Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works

"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.

Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.

"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"

The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.

In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.

Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.

At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:

"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.

Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:

“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."

And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."

Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."

Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.

"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."

The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."

For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."

The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.

He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."

And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.

He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.

It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."

His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.

Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.

Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."

In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.

Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:

"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."

But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."

There was always a “but”.

At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.

I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."

I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."

"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"

Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."

Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:

“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"

Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.

With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."

Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."

- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto

Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."

Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"

Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"

Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."

Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."

"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"

Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."

- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool

Emotionally, concerts = sports:

"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.

When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."

The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.

Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:

“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."

With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.

They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:

"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.

Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.

I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."

To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.

"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.

Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.

In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.

- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."

The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."

Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.

It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."

Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:

• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."

• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of ​​what it could be.

And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."

• “Art is a kind of therapy.

When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.

But everyone chooses this for himself.

• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.

We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."

- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."

- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."

• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."

This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:

Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."

Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "

Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."

June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium

#very interesting #till's life #till is love 🖤 #till lindemann #till 2021 #werner lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #christoph schneider #richard kruspe #oliver riedel #joey kelly #rammstein #t.lindemann #t.lindemann 2021

[batarangsoundsdumb]

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘�� (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

#this is only like half of it #but at least you can get like a few answers #yanno fuck it #bataranswers #ask #asks #anon

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Friends to Lovers with Rodrick Heffley

Rodrick Heffley x reader

warnings: mentions of a bad home life

a/n: YALL I FUVKING DID IT AND IM TERRIFIED OF THE REPERCUSSIONS

prompt: y/n and rodrick have been friends for a long time, so long boundaries seem to be blurred

you’ve actually known rodrick since elementary school

it all started when he asked you to join his band

“i can play drums, you can play the tambourine because that’s the only other instrument i have! it’ll be wicked!”

your band lasted a week and only had one gig, it was for rodrick’s parents

who LOVED you by the way

they somehow permitted you to sleepover almost every other day, you practically lived at their house

FOR YEARS you did this

terrorizing lil greg

“what’s he gonna do, pee his diaper?”

“rodrick!!!”

always trick or treating together, exchanging candy when you got back go his house (or occasionally yours)

you guys didnt like hanging at your house, your parents were kind of....a lot to handle

starting middle school together, wreaking havoc on all the teachers

rodrick did it to impress you, according to mr. and mrs. heffley

but he’d give you a stupid little smirk from across the classroom after he got scolded so you believed them

whenever anyone gave you shit at school, rodrick wouldn’t hesitate to step in and show them who’s boss

“rodrick, you’re gonna get detention again!”

“yeah, well, i’m not gonna let them be mean to you”

you went to his house after school most days, sometimes you’d get there first while he was in detention

mrs. heffley had after school snacks

“y/n, why don’t you play some video games with greg while you wait for rodrick to get home?”

playing wii sports with greg, who cried when you won

you also had time to do homework while you waited, rodrick usually copied afterwards

when rodrick came home, he’d drag you to the garage to show you his drum skills

he hit himself in the head with his drumstick

“ooh, that’s gonna leave a mark”

next step was high school, which was a weird step up

but you guys had each other

you still spent most nights at the heffley residence, but you had to sleep on the couch instead of on the floor in the attic (aka rodricks lair)

“you two are growing up, so we think it’s best that you don’t sleep in the same room together, right?”

rodrick emptied one of his drawers for you to put your clothes in

but you still end up stealing his clothes half the time

“i wish i could be mad, but you wear all of my clothes better than me”

subconsciously doing couple-y things without realizing it

like rodrick would pull you closer to him when you two were together, put his arm around you, give you his jacket, etc

“are you guys serious? you’ve got to be dating!” -everyone

“rodrick, when are you and y/n going to get together?” -mr. and mrs. heffley

the answer was always the same: “we’re just friendssssss”

watching his band practice and cheering him on no matter what

you’re his guest vocals ☺️

when he got the van, it was a whole new world for you guys

you could go out wherever whenever

(with parent approval usually)

“wanna go ride around for a little while? hit a gas station and get a bunch of candy?”

“do you even have to ask?”

watching scary movies in his room

“platonic” cuddling in his bed

stuffing your face in the crook of his neck during scary scenes

“come on, y/n! it’s not that bad!”

him having to hold onto you for comfort so you’d keep watching with him

sometimes falling asleep together and his mom or dad coming to check on you later

“alright, time for bed! y/n, you get your usual couch...”

laughing your ass off at rodrick when he messes with greg

manny loves you, sometimes rodrick is jealous of the attention you give to his baby brother instead of him

rodrick scooping you up in his arms when you least expect it, never fails to make you scream

“hey there, hot stuff”

“you’re impossible!”

roller skating together, he held your hand the whole time bc he was worried you’d fall

his friends ENDLESSLY taunt him over your relationship

when he makes plans with others, he always says “let me ask y/n first” which just SENDS his friends oh my god

“dude, that’s your s/o!”

“no, they’re not! shut up!”

hating being apart a lot its so stressful

sometimes you’d have a pretty hard time at home and show up to his house at odd hours, but you were always welcome

you have your own key

“hey, what’s wrong?”

“my parents...they’re just the worst”

rodrick knows its bad when you start crying

he took you up to his room and played some music (quietly as not to wake the house)

you laid on top of him while he rubbed your back and told you that he was there for you

dozing off on him, as per usual

dude, the amount of pictures you have? astronomical

you playing his drums, the two of you going 🤘, an actual nice picture of you guys, him carrying you on his back, kiddos on your first day of school by year, you kissing his cheek “platonically”

comforting him when he was having his own hard times, whether it be an argument with his parents/greg, difficulties with musical inspiration, or anything else

“come here, you need a hug”

“i need several”

“you’ll get ‘em”

talent show! talent show! talent show!

you completely cussed out the rest of his band before they went on bc they had the audacity to replace him

but greg managed to save the day

“greg, my dude, give me a high five, that was awesome”

he wasn’t actually half bad but like, his mom kinda stole the show

more joyrides in the van

absolutely BLASTING the music in there while you and rodrick sat on the floor in the back and ate the taco bell you’d just picked up

“dude, you gotta try my potato griller, it’s a godsend”

“okay, but try this slushie, its so good. i mean, not as good as a 7-eleven slushie, but it’s up there”

finishing your food and laying in the van for another hour bc you just loved each other’s company

but after sitting together alone for so long, you felt like there was something left to do, what was it?

you and rodrick were moving around a bunch and ended up next to each other sitting against the wall of the van

you looked over at each other and hesitated before leaning in to kiss

and you guys kissed for a while

okay, so, you made out on the floor of his van with led zeppelin playing in the background

✨magical✨

it wasn’t awkward or anything, just long overdue

okay it was a little awkward actually

“well, that was” *clears throat* “that was cool or whatever”

“yeah...wanna do it again?”

“oh, for sure”

not like it was a surprise to anyone when you announced you were FINALLY dating

“wait, you guys just started dating? i thought you’d been together for like, at least 5 years” -mr. heffley

“this is great! obviously, we’ll need to set up some boundaries so that everyone is comfortable and safe, but yay for young love!” -mrs. heffley

“gross” -greg

mrs. heffley wrote a column in the newspaper about you titled “my teenage son’s fantastic significant other”

not much changed after you and rodrick got together, just kissing, “i love you’s” and more teasing from friends and school faculty

“we were all rooting for you two, actually!” -the teachers

summer vacation with him

it was always SWEET

going to the pool together, he’d usually lay out on the chairs with you but you were able to drag him into the pool a few times

“come onnnn, it’ll be funnnn”

“you’re lucky you’re cute”

hugs from behind!!! kisses on the top of ur head!!!!

PROM AH HAH HAH

seeing rodrick in a tux was too funny for you, you almost couldn’t stop laughing (especially at the eyeliner he insisted on wearing)

but he just couldn’t stop staring at you

“rodrick!”

“what?! you’re stunning!”

honestly, prom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be

you danced like maniacs for a few songs and ended up ditching early on

but you did end up renting a bunch of movies and getting tonssss of snacks and changing into pajamas as soon as you got to his house

im talking popcorn, candy bars, ice cream, cans of pop, chips, chicken nuggets and so on

and also passing out on each other

“i think i love you a little more, i didn’t know that was possible”

“i have that effect on people”

he makes u breakfast before his mom gets the chance though

“pancakes? for me?”

“i put chocolate chips in them too, you’re gonna love them”

(they were a lil bit burned, still good tho)

you guys really did just spot on get each other

okay but i know you also roast each other sometimes so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

relationship goals, honestly

fresh outta ideas 🤠 goodnight

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley imagine #doawk #doawk x reader #doawk imagine #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid x reader #diary of a wimpy kid imagine #devon bostick #devon bostick x reader #devon bostick imagine