#1930s detective au

[owlrolls]

OBLIGATORY (SUPER) LATE BDAY POST TO THE POOKIEST POOKIE EVER!!!!!

I hope you had a great day surrounded by gifts, cake and loved ones!!!

Here's my small offering!!

@froggi-mushroom

[froggi-mushroom]

Early August, 1934, Cornwall

Gabriel could feel his eye twitch, his brows furrowed.

“I told you that I am staying here, I simply misplaced my key.”

The porter eyed him, eyebrow raised and button-mouth pressed into a frown.

“Listen, I—”

“He’s with me.”

Gabriel looked beside him, blinked, was he dreaming?

“Madam, my apologies, I had no idea, please.” He gestured towards the restaurant, where Gabriel had been trying for the last ten minutes to get into to have what he hoped would be a peaceful lunch.

What?

Beside him, Edith (still as small as she once was, though softer, her hair longer and her eyes tired, so tired) made her way into the restaurant, barely even glancing at him. Not that he had the right to be offended, really, since they’d left off on such a bad note, almost a decade ago, Gabriel was shocked she even helped him at all.

“Well?” Edith asked finally, looking over her shoulders, her coat shrugged off, hat gone, dressed in a simple blouse and long skirt, and looking back at him with those wide eyes and coy smile that always brought him back to Biarritz, when Edith dragged him down to the beach, the sun caught in her hair, bleached blond strands from the sun, her face smattered with freckles, smiling back at him, so vivid in his mind, over 10 years later.

“Well?” Gabriel asked, dumbfounded.

“Well, are you going to join me? Surely you do not wish to dine alone. I know how much you hate being left with your thoughts.”

Gabriel smirked, “You’ll find I’ve grown to enjoy it in the years since we’ve last seen each other.”

Edith rolled her eyes, still petulant as ever, “I suppose if you truly do not wish to join me—”

“I will. Though you must know, I am expecting company soon.”

“A woman?”

“No, why?” he bit his tongue just before he added a sly would that make you jealous? to save himself the embarrassment. She wasn’t his to make jealous anymore.

“A world-renowned detective, and still pleasing on the eyes? I’m quite surprised you don’t constantly have a woman on your arm, frankly.” Edith frowned when Gabriel helped her with her chair, lighting her cigarette with so much vitriol, you’d think Gabriel had spat in her face rather than simply helped her with her chair, “I sure do hope you aren’t trying to butter me up, Silva, you and I both know that regardless of whatever case you’re working on, flattery will not help you when it comes to me—”

“Who says I am on a case?”

“When aren’t you?” Edith spat, coughing, eyes watery, a reminder.

“If you must know then, I am not just joining you this afternoon simply to catch up,” he pulled a small card invitation out of his pocket, sliding it towards Edith for her to inspect, “It is why I am here, it is written in your name, but it’s not your handwriting.”

“Curious…” Edith trailed off, “and it coincides with when I was due to visit? I can assure you, Gabriel, I had no part in this.”

“I believe you.”

“Hmm,” Edith looked up at him, smiling, “You still recognise my handwriting?”

“Well, I am technically paid to notice stuff like that.” And it’s you, he thinks, how could I forget?

“So you are investigating me?” Edith asks, wry smile on her face, “Or at least, you think there is a case to be had here.”

“Well, impersonation is a crime, I ought to find out who has done this and why—”

“Am I to presume that you both will be having high tea?”

Gabriel felt a foot nudge his, looking up from the invitation and seeing Edith eyeing him, her eyebrow raised. Hm? Oh!

“I’m alright with that.”

The waiter nodded and left.

“You were saying?”

“Hmm…” Gabriel scratched his chin, “I was saying that impersonation is a crime, but I’m not so sure this counts, you know?”

“You’ll give yourself a headache if you keep agonising over it, dear.”

Gabriel smiled, nudging Edith’s foot across from him, trailing it up her leg, “You know, it’s been so long since we last saw each other—”

“And I treasure the time we’ve spent apart, I still remember thise l sleepless nights, staying awake whilst you worked away in your office.” Edith spat, moving her leg away and rustling around her bag.

“Please, like your ex husband was ever any better to you.”

Edith stopped, looked up at him, cold.

“At least he put me first for once.”

Obligatory @owlrolls tag because tumblr doesn’t always show my posts to her and vice versa

This is born out of me reading and researching a lot about Daphne Du Maurier for my English coursework, gaining a sudden interest in murder mysteries and visiting the Savoy for my 18th birthday almost 7 months ago. Oh, this has been rotting in my drafts for a while. Also, the random mention of Biarritz is in reference to my dear old mother who went on a business trip there with an accountancy firm back when she worked up London still and said it was very nice there

This is still technically a WIP because I wanna rework the dialogue and the pacing so here’s to hoping me posting this and seeing Owl’s inevitable outpour of excitement will encourage me to finally finish this

I have a lot of ideas for this story that I’m hoping I can do justice, it’s a lot different for me cuz I need to actually be clever about how I write it cuz it’ll be all murder-mystery alongside two ex lovers rekindling their relationship

[bam-bo0zle]

1930s Au.

[pappelsiin]

thinking about crystal who's stuck in a form between life and death, a girl who died in her time only to resurface decades later in a body too warm and solid for a ghost but a soul halfway out of the vessel it's tied to. she's more energy than she is human and thus, maybe she won't have to watch niko grieve as crystal ages (she wouldn't, she'd never feel as though crystal is leaving, but rather thank the universe for letting her hold crystal's hand through it all), maybe this form will withstand the test of time better than her living self could've.

and then there's the monty of it all. no one knows whether monty can sustain himself without crystal, with the familial tie they share now. monty doesn't fear, though, because he can not let such things weigh him down when there are two ghosts, two boys who're so incredibly alive, holding him through the nights he can't seem to settle down on.

just, the things decades in the human world does to five people who are all more or less dead. four of them reminiscing a time they can't go back to and one trying to learn what it is to be a ghost.

[shi-yin-drawings]

Detective Azaliah thinks Riley is hiding something, but she isn't too pleased about being a suspect.

Also included a no subs version and the rough sketch below!

[owlrolls]

WHAT THE FLIP MAN???? DID I NOT SEE THIS BEFORE??... WHAT............ EDITH ONE CHANCE. ILL FREE YOU FROM THOSE BOZOS 🙏🙏

thanking @needcake for making me dig through a pile of wips to pick one i actually like enough to share :')

︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ .*

“Are you sure you want to go alone? I can come with you, meet you there tomorrow.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Henrique replied as he tried to focus on changing lanes mid-sentence. Once he was safely over, he resumed his conversation with Arthur over the phone, and said, "Besides, I don't think he'd be thrilled to see you at the door, of all people. No offence."

"None taken," Arthur assured him. "I wouldn't be there for him, though. Remember that. If you need me at any point, just tell me. I’ll be right over.”

Henrique didn’t want to tell him how silly he sounded over the phone. It was a kind gesture, though entirely unnecessary. He would be fine. All he was doing was visiting Antonio for a week and… doing whatever he could to make him feel better.

‘I don’t know what to do. You said to call you if I ever felt— Well, lost, right? And I’m lost, Henrique. I-I’m so lost right now…’

The words heard only that morning crept up on him, came to hang around his shoulders like a heavy scarf. He’d woken up to a voicemail left for him in the middle of the night. And as soon as he’d heard it, he’d called Antonio back and had arranged to spend a week with him—even if Antonio had protested and insisted he was fine, that he’d been drinking, that he didn’t need the company…

…Frankly, that had only made Henrique pack his bags quicker.

“Let me know once you get there, won’t you?”

Henrique refocused on the road (he was glad it was quiet) and said to Arthur, “I will. Maybe not right away, but… I’ll text you.”

“As long as. That’s all I can ask for,” Arthur replied. 

There was a moment, then, in which Henrique thought Arthur would say more. The pause was not quite a pause—not quite a finale. But, if he did want to say more, he didn’t. Instead, he told Henrique to drive safely, and promised to speak to him soon.

Henrique did not force further conversation. Perhaps, for the sake of himself and other road users, it was for the best.

With an hour left of his journey, the only company Henrique allowed himself was the radio. Some of the songs he knew, and others, he was less familiar with. At least they helped pass the time, singing words that were seldom appropriate for how he felt, but that seemed to do their best to uplift him.

In turn, with time passed signs—so many signs pointing him towards all the wrong cities, the wrong towns, the wrong places. He needed a sign that took him directly to Antonio, the fastest route available. He had a route mapped in his mind but even as he followed it, the thought lingered: what if there's a faster way?

Henrique was worried.

︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ .*

tagging @the-heaminator, @froggi-mushroom, @ellavei, @peppermint-chocolate-cherries (if none of you mind being tagged akzkwkxka)

[moxielynx]

hello! I was wondering if we could do sum cool ass 1950’s AU with Dogday??

you said he had a dire sounding voice, so funky detective fella??

I kinda wanna make bro a therapist wife now….

i love the idea of this old PI/detective au for dogday so i'd love a silly ol 1950s au with him

some rambles i did about him when i first posted about my own detective au :3

[lady-wallace]

Abbacchio Week Day 5: The Story in Your Eyes

For today's @abbacchioweek2024 fic I'm playing with my 1930s AU which up to this point has mostly been headcanons and some various art I've done. I think this might be the first time I've written first person for a character that was not an OC but tried to replicate a noir style narration for Abbacchio here. This AU is set in New York City

~~~~~~~

New York, 1932

It was a quiet night. A bit surprising, honestly, what with all the growing tensions between various gangs—one of which I had, perhaps foolishly, gotten myself embroiled with.

I lit up a cigarette as I stepped out of the restaurant I had come to frequent as of late. The back room had become a little too familiar to me, filled with smoke and discussion, broken up only by the asinine arguments of the young rips my new ‘business partner’ seemed intent on surrounding himself with.

I’d asked him once why he took in a bunch of kids who were more likely to shoot themselves in the foot than enforce protection in his territory and he’d told me firmly that they were good kids. Good kids. Heh. None of us were very good, but that was just what Bucciarati was like, seeing the best in people. He’d tried to do the same to me and I had promptly told him that he was being an idiot. Not that it stopped him, but he’s stubborn like that.

Still, I guess he wasn’t wrong. They weren’t bad kids, they’d just been dealt bad hands—much like the rest of us. Except that new Giovanna prick. I’d thought Fugo was a smug little shit when I first met him but he doesn’t hold a candle to the new blond-haired bastard Bucciarati had picked up. I wasn’t usually in the habit of questioning his judgement, but I was coming close with this one.

I exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air before tucking my hand into my pocket. I wished for a moment that I hadn’t started attempting to replace my nightcap with a smoke to varying effect. I could really use one tonight.

Bucciarati had a good heart despite his chosen profession, and I knew he wanted change as much as the rest of us did. But I just got the feeling in my soul that Giovanna and his grand ideas were going to cause trouble one of these days—with the certainty that I would somehow be dragged along with it.

I wasn’t entirely wrong, if not slightly mistaken in my original judgement. If anything, Giorno Giovanna was a harbinger with an angel’s countenance, heralding the devil close on our heels. Because it was that night, about a week after Giovanna joined Bucciarati’s team that she showed up.

She was waiting in my office when I got back after the meeting. I never locked the door in case a client needed to get inside—all my important paperwork was hidden in the back of my closet in my apartment and I had been grateful for my constant paranoia on more than one occassion.

She was young, that was the first thing I noticed, couldn’t be older than sixteen and her clothing was expensive and well put together; a gold and emerald necklace around her neck that I could tell even in the dim lighting wasn’t paste.

But it was her eyes that struck me most of all. As emerald as the stone around her neck holding a look of desperation and fear that would have caught the attention of Bucciarati a mile away. She was in some kind of trouble—the bad kind. She wasn’t one of my usual clients who came to me about stolen possessions or a cheating lover. She was terrified, running from something, and I thought for a moment that I should send her out the door before she could tell me what it was.

But she spoke up, voice firm, with a tremor that only one as trained in human mannerisms as I am could detect. “Are you…Mr. Abbacchio?”

“I am,” I replied, in a little bit of defeat. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

She shifted, uncomfortable, worrying her gloved hands in her lap. “Mr. Abbacchio, I hope I can trust you to be discreet?”

I pulled my overcoat off and sat down in my chair across the desk from her, tucking a new cigarette between my lips as I reached for my lighter. “I have no one to tell, miss. Not even a secretary to pry into your business.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly but her hands still twisted in her lap. “Mr. Abbacchio…I believe that my father… is trying to kill me.”

I pause briefly in my movements, before I collect myself again and flick my lighter into life, inhaling deeply as the cigarette tip glows red. “That’s quite the accusation. Do you have any proof of that?”

“I have no physical proof but I…I heard him over the phone today, telling someone that…that he wanted me…taken care of.”

She was shaking. I got up slowly to pull the bottle of brandy out of my file cabinet. I poured some into a glass and headed around the desk to press it into her hands. “Are you sure that was the intent?”

She nodded firmly. “I’m positive. I believe the man on the other end of the line asked the same thing and my father said, ‘no, I want her dead. I want… to be sure.’” She was shaking so hard now she could barely hold the glass as she brought it to her lips, taking a bracing drink.

I leaned back on the desk, arms folded over my chest. “Who is your father?”

She looked down, still shaking. “You’re just a private detective, right?” she asked. “You’re not…affiliated with anyone?”

“I work for myself,” Abbacchio said, wondering if he could count Bucciarati as an ‘affiliation’ and decided that explanation would complicate things. At the end of the day Bucciarati and his gang were my clients, not my co-workers. “If I may ask, why exactly are you concerned about that?”

“Because,” she whispered. “My father…is a very powerful man.”

I nodded. “I gathered as much from your appearance.”

She looked down, hugging her coat closer to her. She had probably put on her least fancy dress to come here thinking she could hide. I felt another wave of pity for her, she was just a kid, after all. A terrified kid.

“What’s his name, sweetheart?”

She shook her head. “His name means nothing. You wouldn’t know him by that. No one does.”

I felt unease run through me as I bent to meet her eyes. “Who is he?”

She let out a half sob. “He—he’s the head of the mafia branch—Passione. The Boss. Don Diavolo. He named himself after the devil, Mr. Abbacchio. That’s the kind of man he is.”

I was still processing the information when her eyes finally snapped up to me with a new look of desperation. “His men are looking for me and they want to kill me. I don’t have anywhere to go, please, Mr. Abbacchio, please help me!”

The tears in her eyes had me pulling out a handkerchief, handing it over.

“I can’t,” I told her simply. I knew I was sealing my fate, whatever that may be, as she looked up at me in shock and hopelessness and I continued. “But…I know someone who can.”

[owlrolls]

Test doodles i made to test out a new watercolour brush! 🫣

[nukaberrycola]

Alright I am super nervous but it'll most likely never be seen by anyone ever but here it goes. Here is the first chapter of a fun thing I'm writing called blood diamonds. Now beware, I am not a professional writer, I am new and I love doing it. I'll gladly and openly accept criticism and advice. I really want to get better and be an author one day!!

Blood diamonds.

Chapter one.

September 25th 1930, 12:28 am.

     The rain still fell heavy as Nick exited his Buick. The neon bar sign casted a yellow light onto the sidewalk, the puddle making it reflect. He stepped over the puddle and walked into the bar, the air already thick with smoke and cheap beer. He took of his hat, the velvet damp from the rain. Nick's client told him he had a lead here waiting for him, told to look for a strawberry blonde woman with cyan eyes. As he approached the bar he scanned the room first, a few small groups of people at tables drinking and smoking. A couple cling onto each other at the end of the bar, no strawberry blonde woman.

   "What can I get for you?" The bartender asked while she cleaned a whiskey glass.

   Nick pulled out his wallet, taking out a five dollar bill setting it on the counter. "Scotch on the rocks." The bartender took the money and began to make the drink. She was nothing too special, her hair was black with thick bouncy curls, Grey eyes and a roundish face, she wasn't too pretty but just enough to flirt men into giving her more money. She set the glass down in front of his hand and walked away from the bar. Nick nursed his drink, trying to seem like that's all he was here for.

   "Hah, rotten luck boys."

  A heavily accent voice called out from the back of the bar. It peaked Nick's interest, he craned his neck to try and get a look in the back.

   "Intrested in the game of poker back there?" The bartender asked in a whisper. Nick turned to face her, he nodded.

   "Yeah it might just be my lucky night."

   She ran a pale hand through her curls, she opened her mouth to say something before a man slammed his cup down on the counter.

   "More whiskey Sky, please I'll tip you more once I win a damn game." The bartender or rather Sky was it just sighed and rolled her eyes.

    "Sure John, we already know that damn Nordic woman is unbeatable." She poured more whiskey into his glass. Nick drowned out their talking and made his way to the back of the bar. There at a table sat three men and one woman, this woman had long strawberry blonde hair that had a bunch of small braids and jewelry woven into them. She laughed as she collected her winnings. The men groaned and cursed at their losses. Nick walked up to the table, holding his hat against his chest.

   "Alright if I join?"

  

"If you're willing to bet."

Nick nodded as cyan eyes met his, her lips curling into a small smirk. The three other men got up and walked off, mumbling about cheating and telling Nick good luck. As he sat down the woman shuffled the deck, this gave Nick time to pull out some change from his pocket and set it on the table. She dealt the cards slowly, his hand already not looking too hot. Five of hearts, four of spades and an ace. She dealt one card and Nick followed suit.

   "What's a pretty lady doing here in mayflower? And so far from home." Nick asked hoping to break the ice.

The woman eyed him before answering.

 

"Moved here when I was young and it seems like I'm not going anywhere. What about you? Wolf." She played another card. Nick had to think carefully.

 

  "Born and raised here miss.. I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

  "Skåld, Eivor Skåld." She dropped her deck showing winning numbers. Nick dropped his, showing just his luck. Eivor scowled as she reached for her pocket. Nick put up a hand to stop her, she looked at him in confusion.

 

  "I don't want your money, I want information that you may have." Her eyes looked him over, trying to figure him out.

   "What kind of information are you looking for mister.. I'm sorry you didn't tell me your name." Nicks lips tugged upwards a little, he fished into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small card and handing it to her.

  "Private detective Nick Valentine." Her accent curled around the syllables in a sharp way. Eivor pocketed the card and returned her gaze to him.

 

   "Something very valuable was stolen from the May's easte and a maid was murdered in cold blood." Nick ran the tip of his finger over the scratched wood of the table. Eivor scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

   "Think I've got anything to do with that mess?" Nick shook his head while he pulled out and envelope and dropped it onto the table. Eivor hesited before snatching up the envelope and pulling out the money that lay inside.

  "I heard you were at the party when it happened. Witnesses say you were quite the shutter bug that night." Her cyan eyes looked over the money before quickly shoving it back inside the envelope. Her long slim fingers fidgted with the corner of the envelope, Nick now noticed how long her nails were, painted a deep cherry red. Eivor gently set the envelope down before speaking gently.

 

   "You want to buy those pictures off me." He nodded.

   "Yes I do, and that should be enough to cover it."

  "I need to develop them first, then I can give them to you." Nick rose to his feet, Eivor doing the same motion while picking up the envelope.

"Well detective, I have your office address. How about I bring those photos over tomorrow morning." Eivor held out her slender pale hand, Nick took it and they both shook on it. He watched as she collected her earlier winnings and shoved it all into a velvet coin purse. She walked out from around the table and towards the front of the bar, Nick noted that she was tall for a woman, slightly wide hips and a fuller body. Definitely Nordic. Mayflower has always been very diverse in its population but the Nordics were rare, not a lot of them like leaving their cold homelands for a floating island. Nick shook his head and made his way back up to the bar, he grabbed his Scotch and looked it over, he decided he no longer wanted it. Pulling out three dollars he set it under the glass and took his leave. He was thankful for fresh air once he stepped outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and no traffic lined the streets. But people did line the sidewalks, he was downtown and that usually meant more bad people and crime were active. He hoped Eivor didn't live down here, Nick slid behind the wheel of his car and began the lackluster drive home. Nick always wondered if what he did mattered, taking small cases like for instance helping an old woman get her rights back to her dead husband's home, or getting back a mother's stolen car. The M.F.PD didn't do much these days or even seemed to care about its own citizens. He focused on the painted white line on the road, while his mind wandered farther then it needed to. He pulled up to the apartment complex, lucky enough only a couple of people lived here. He parked into one of the small garages that lived under his apartment. As he ascend the stairs he heard an argument between a young couple who moved here not too long ago. Trouble in paradise, Nick thought as he unlocked the rickety wooden door. His apartment stood dark and silent, the air rather stale and stuffy. It was late and Nick was tired. He turned on the small table lamp that sat by his couch and opened up the window. The cold night air washed in bringing in the fresh smell of rain, he retired to his small bedroom and took the time to remove his suit. As he laid down he hoped Eivor's photographs gave him more to grab onto and work with.

[alphacentaurinebula]

Fanfic Recs!

Been on a reading spree so I thought it would be nice to rec a few of my favourite Good Omens fics

The Many-Venomed Earth (teen) - Gorgeous AU 1930s detective story where amateur sleuth Aziraphale must get Crowley off a murder charge. Yes that pun was intentional but actually this one is rated teen. I absolutely INHALED this fic and am halfway through the sequel - it's just brilliant.

Trial & Error (E) - Crowley on trial again - this time in Heaven, and the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is the judge. AWK-WARD. Hilarious, angsty and hot, what more could you ask!

Half agony half hope (teen) - absolutely loved this one! Regency AU which basically uses the British class system as a replacement for Heaven, with a lovely bit of moral awakening, especially for Aziraphale. I’m a sucker for a good bit of history and there are some nice real historical events referenced within - part of said moral awakening - and really deftly done. highly recommend.

Jesus, Etc (Gen)- the very first Good Omens fic I read, in that desperate post S2 period where all I wanted was a funny, happy resolution for those ineffable idiots...and this one delivered!

A Narrow Escape to the Country (teen) - properly funny. Aziraphale and Crowley appear on a daytime househunting tv series. Hilarity ensues.

Married at first sight (teen)- another reality show, which I have not watched, but that did not interfere with my enjoyment of this fic. Fake marriage is like…my favourite trope. Give me more.

Muddle through somehow (teen)- oh wait, here’s some more! Fake marriage and fake kid and fake country cottage. The voices are spot on in this one!

The Grinder Logo Doesn’t Even Have a G in It (E) - You've almost certainly read this already and if you haven't you must. Post season 1 fic which manages to do footnotes RIGHT. Properly funny, extremely hot, and pretty flipping adorable. I loved it.

Slow Show (E) - AU. Who possibly hasn’t heard of this fic? But it is fantastic, and hot and romantic and gorgeous.

[deconstructthesoup]

Sorely tempted to make a 1930-1940's film noir AU for Dead Boy Detectives just so the Cat King can fulfill his dream role as a femme fatale

[kstrucknet]

surprise !! please check out { @seokminfilm } new post !!

─ ⊹ please reblog and leave feedback for the creator.

monet | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warning: non-idol au, noir au (early 1930's), romance, private detective!seokmin, jazz singer!reader, lots of flirting, seokmin calls reader angel, implied age gap, mutual attraction, they're hot and in love your honor

word count: 1.7k | for @kstrucknet

The sultry sound of jazz music filled the vibrant nightclub, where the brooding Seokmin sat in a hidden corner. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and whiskey as the singer on stage finished her final solo. His eyes were like darts, dashing across the room and scanning the faces of patrons who passed by him.

Smoky nightclubs weren’t Lee Seokmin’s thing—as a detective, he spent most of his time in a police station, working on filing papers and questioning delinquents who didn’t want to talk. Being stationed in a nightclub was the last thing he wanted, and now that he was here, sipping on a glass of whiskey himself and wincing at the crooked high notes the older lady hit, he realized just how much he hated this atmosphere.

And then, you came along and changed that completely.

The clapping started to fade away, and you entered the stage in all of your soft glory, light dress a stark contrast from all the other female singers who tried so hard to be sensual. A smile was on your face as you cleared your throat away from the mic, and once the pianist started to play, you sang like there was no tomorrow, your voice clearer and brighter than anything Seokmin had ever heard. You looked out of place—like you weren’t made for the smell of cigarettes and dirty wine, and Seokmin found it incredibly alluring. More alluring than any other woman he had seen tonight. 

At the end of your song, Seokmin found himself joining in with the crowd, standing up and clapping his hands together as you did a polite curtsy, smile dazzling once more as you made your way off of the stage. He felt tempted to laugh at himself; it was as if he was observing his actions from outside his body and the instant attraction that he had to you was something akin to a high school crush.

As much as he tried, though, he couldn’t deny how much more he wanted to know about you. How much he wanted you.

“Hey,” Seokmin’s voice was sharp, and the bartender cowered slightly, answering with a timid “Yes?” as Seokmin’s slender finger jabbed to the stage. “Who was that girl?”

“Her? Well, she’s—” Seokmin’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek annoyedly, and he turned to the side for a second, immaculate side profile on display as he returned his piercing gaze to the confused bartender. “The one who just left the stage.” He sighed, annoyed, and the young bartender cleared his throat, nodding quickly.

“That was Monet. No one knows her real name, as she uses her stage name for everything. She’s one of the newer performers, but she’s already our most popular one.” He explains, and Seokmin is drawn in even more, mind now full of unanswered questions as he continued to ask the bartender about her. What made her choose the name Monet? Why did she start singing? Wasn’t she too young to be in a place like this?

“Where would her dressing room be?” Seokmin asked, and the bartender looked at him warily, obviously disturbed by his rather out-of-the-blue question. “Why would you want to know that, may I ask?”

Something about this girl was different. He didn’t know her from anywhere, but he wanted to know more about her. The desire to get to know her was so strong, and he couldn’t fight it anymore. Monet was the only thing he could see or hear anymore. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, or maybe the cigarette smoke was finally getting to him, but he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had finally solved the many mysteries swirling around in his head.

This wasn’t Seokmin’s mission, and he knew that. Now, though—now he had made it his mission.

“I simply want to congratulate her, that’s all,” Seokmin says simply, and it was the truth—he just wanted to lay his eyes on her once, thank her for her stunning performance, and finally get her out of his head. The bartender, on the other hand, didn’t seem so convinced and shook his head. “I don’t think I can let you go back there, sir.”

Seokmin’s thick eyebrow raised as he looked down at his watch, and straightened his black tie, nodding. “Fine. Just let her know I want to see her before she leaves.” The bartender nodded slightly, and went back to cleaning glasses, leaving Seokmin to make his way back to his seat in the corner of the room and ignore the look of swooning women surrounding him. He only had his eyes set on one woman, and that woman was the ever-present Monet.

The bar was empty now, with just a few more patrons left as the quiet chatter of certain tables played as the music of the hushed establishment. Seokmin finished another glass of whiskey, still not drunk as his eyes continued to dart down the hallway that contained the dressing rooms. He could see your plaque on the door, signed Monet in a pretty cursive font that teased him as he waited for your door to open.

Seokmin stared down at his watch again, reading the time as he pushed the empty glass away. It was almost ten at night, and you still hadn’t left your dressing room; he wasn’t about to give up, and as long as the workers of the club didn’t kick him out, he’d still be here, eager for any chance to talk to you and hear your pretty voice.

Just as another patron said goodnight and left the bar, the door in the small hallway—the one Seokmin had been waiting on for what seemed like forever to open—had finally opened up, revealing you in a dark coat as you said goodbye to what must have been your makeup artist.

You said thank you to every patron and other performer who had complimented or congratulated you, and the smile on your face was radiant as you left the hallway, chatting with the bartender Seokmin had talked to earlier.

After a few minutes of laughing, the bartender whispered a few words to you, pointing to the corner table Seokmin sat at as you looked over to see the man he was gesturing to.

He was attractive in many ways—he had this air of strong masculinity around him, one even you weren’t immune to. His features were strong, eyebrows thick, nose strong and sculpted, and lips plush as they wrapped around the glass of water he was drinking. The suit he wore was out of place, but it drew you to him even more.

After thanking your good friend behind the bar, you made your way over to the table where Seokmin was, a polite smile on your lips as you spoke. “I heard you wanted to see me, sir?”

Seokmin’s throat bobbed as he admired you quietly, taking note of your delicate face and soft features, highlighted by the soft makeup you still had on. You were an angel, an angel from heaven that God had somehow graced Seokmin to see.

“I did. You were amazing up there, angel.” The pet name just came naturally to Seokmin, and you didn’t shy away from it or become uncomfortable because of it—in fact, it made you blush. 

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed the performance; that’s my goal for every performance I do. To have someone enjoy it.” You look up at Seokmin through your eyelashes, and the collar around his neck feels tighter as he gives you a lazy smile, eyes sparkling with an undeniably attractive emotion as he takes another sip of his water.

“It seems like you don’t have a hard time reaching your goal, then. The compliments have been flowing for you tonight, you know.” Seokmin’s voice was like honey, thick and smooth while draping you with such an ego boost you could barely stand to be around him anymore.

“That’s what I’ve heard, sir.” You reply, and Seokmin looks up at you, glancing down at his watch. “Well, are you heading home? It’s growing increasingly late.”

“I am, sir. My house is about fifteen minutes away, so I better start walking now.” You say, eyes glancing at the clock adorning the wall. Seokmin’s eyebrows furrow, and he stands up, adjusting his crisp black suit as he looks at you. “You’re not going to walk home, are you?”

“That’s what I was planning on doing, sir. There’s no other way I would get home, and I’ve done it many times before,” You reassure him, but Seokmin doesn’t let up, coming closer to you—so close you can smell the strong cologne wafting off of him in heavy waves.

“I can’t let you walk home alone, angel. There are plenty of dirty men out there who would jump at the chance to take you for themselves.” Seokmin states, and you can’t help but laugh, looking up at Seokmin again through your eyelashes as you tease him. “But don’t you want to take me for yourself?”

Seokmin’s eyes darken slightly and he smiles, taking your hand in his as he pulls you closer to his body, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I do, angel, but I want to do it in a polite and proper manner.”

You blush, laughing nevertheless as you add, “But you don’t even know my name. I don’t know yours, either, I’m afraid.”

“I know everyone calls you Monet, angel. And now you’ll know my name,” Seokmin says, taking your hand again as he brings it up to his soft lips and kisses your knuckles, sharp eyes meeting yours as he continues to speak with that husky tone that embodies the strong personality behind his watching eyes and rich-looking exterior. “I’m Seokmin—Lee Seokmin, private detective.”

“Oh, I’ve heard many things about you.” You giggle deviously, and Seokmin’s smile widens at your cute, contagious laugh as he adds, “All good things, I hope?”

“All good things. All very, very, very good things,” you reply sweetly. Seokmin promises himself from that moment on that he’ll do everything in his power to have you, only if you want him in the same way.

“I’m flattered, angel. So very flattered,” Seokmin’s voice is like sugar, making you feel sweet inside and out as he comes closer to you again. “So, will you let me take you home?”

“Depends on which home we’re talking about—I would much rather go home with you, Mr. Lee.” Seokmin’s chuckle is dark, dangerously attractive and alluring as his lips brush the shell of your ear again, sending shivers down your spine as he whispers once more.

“Then let’s go home, then, angel.”

[mintsuwu]

Midnight Mysteries AU Q&A!

Hello! I´ve been opening asks on Twitter recently and a bunch of people asked stuff about the AU. So I thought it would be fair to share the information here as well to keep everynyan updated! I´ll also take the chance to reply to asks that I have pending in my inbox as well.

Which Midnight Mysteries characters would be magical fellas, like "madoka magica, smile precure"?

Probably Poppy or CraftyCorn, the latter was a unicorn after all 👀

Detective Bubbaphant looks like he needs serious therapy /aff

Oh trust me, HE DEFINITELY DOES.

Every single Critter in that AU needs therapy. That´s partly the reason why Rosie (Bobby) became a psychologist /hj

Can I give Officer Kicks a hug?

Sure you can!! Don´t approach him when he´s angry though.

Do you allow OCs/Fanfics or such for your AU?

Yeah, I absolutely do and it makes me so happy that people would like my AU that much! 😭🙏💖

Does CatNap have a tragic backstory or personal goal or is he bad just for funsies? :00

He sort of has a tragic backstory, not too much, but he definitely has his motives... And even though his intentions could be sort of good, his ways are not the right ones (?

Chat, what happens if Officer Kicks is angry?

Dear user, I pray that you never encounter an angry rooster in your life because one nearly attacked me when I was little and it was... Quite the experience-

That aside though, he has an awful temper and can even get violent at times. Kickin´s character development simply hasn´t kicked in yet.

Are LoolaLamb and CatNap dating or does he just like messing with her?

They have been engaged for years. They married out of convenience and their relationship isn´t fully romantic, but CatNap actually cares about her in a way and is kind of possesive of her.

How did you come up with the Midnight Mysteries AU?

Funny enough, the idea simply came to me one day in which I was listening to the Spy X Family openings, and since my previous hyperfixation was The Great Mouse Detective my mind suddenly thought "What if I made an AU inspired on both things?" That added to the fact that I always kinda imagined Bubba as a detective and knew I had to draw it sometime.

Does CatNap just manipulate or make deals with the Sugary Scoundrels to cause trouble?

Sort of! As those two grew up in the orphanage that he runs, it´s more or less their way to repay him the favor, even though they spend most of their days out on the streets roaming around. But they are also lowkey intimidated by Catnap... Though, Bunzo has it worse with Mistress LongLegs in comparison. PD: The girls, specially CatBee, really admire Loola! And the latter is quite fond of them too.

Will the Midnight Mysteries AU have a similar story to Poppy Playtime, or does it only have the characters in common with the original source?

It will most likely have a slightly different route as PPT´s story is not done yet, but there will be events of the AU based on it! For example, The Hour Of Joy took place as well, but the motives behind it will be different.

What year does the Midnight Mysteries AU take place in?

Historically wise, it would take place around 1930-50, I don´t have an exact year but I know it would hace to end in 5 given how Poppy Playtime takes place in 2005.

What was MM Catnap´s childhood like?

I still have to think better on it, but he was a wondering performer! Perhaps specialized in acribatics.

What sort of things did Huggy and his siblings do before working for the railroad? What were their parents like, were they even around?

Their parents died when they were still yound, so Huggy had to raise his siblings by himself. They were later taken into a circus, but things weren´t very nice in there... After leaving the circus he took part on several crimes, being the brute force of the villanous gang while his siblings were unaware of their brother´s felonies. But when he took part in The Hour Of Joy, Huggy decided to change his ways from then on and did his best to leave the past behind along with his family.

What are Angel´s pronouns in the AU?

He/They!

Is Angel close or affiliated to any of the characters from the AU (DogDay for example?)

Yeah! He is allies with Poppy, Kissy and DogDay. Angel shares a parent-son relationship with the latter as they practically raised the poor dog after he had gone through a negative moment in his life.

Is CraftyCorn in the MM AU, or does she have yet to be revealed?

... She used to be(?

Is Billie actually a boy looking for his dad, or a kid playing innocent to help CatNap?

He´s mainly looking for his dad! But I love that twist ngl...

Did DogDay get that scratch from CatNap or something else?

Yes, he got it from CatNap in a fight.

Is Billy´s mom, by any chance, Mistress Long Legs? Does she know?

Yes, she does know but perhaps she wouldn´t recognize him at first as she didn´t raise him and Billie wouldn´t even know how she looks like. Darwin tried not to tell him much about her and her deeds, or at least he wanted to wait and tell him until he was old enough.

How did Darwin go missing, did Billie witness it?

He got kidnapped, and Billie did witness it. He caught sight of the kidnapper but couldn´t catch up to them when he tried to go after his dad.

What happened to Angel?

Many things...

Does Angel have the ability to die and revive in the past before they died? The Angels from the other universes are able to do that too.

No... Or at least, they haven´t tried out yet, so who knows!

"Traitor"? Did Angel used to work for the Prototype before rebelling against them?

Indeed, Angel betrayed their comrades in a very critical moment and since then they all have been searching for him... CatNap mostly. Which is why they usually remain hidden, outcasted and only keeping contact with selective people.

[bam-bo0zle]

hii uh! i was wondering if you could talk more about the 1930s au⁉️ i think it’s really cool .w.

YESS :)))))) I loooooove the premise i just dont got any ideas about plot atm </3 some vague stuff about javert being a private eye and being hired to investigate jvj - who is a politician of some sort im not sure - but other than that i got nada :,( i just love 1930s-40s fashion and the whole noir detective vibe :) ... been thinking of doing a little comic for the au but as of yet the ideas arent flowing.. perhaps be on the lookout for that tho..

[ducklover606]

[Wendigo AU - Radiostatic]

It's New Orleans in the 1930's.

Alastor has been missing for 7 years in the Bayou. It's the whole reason Vox became a detective was to find his lost ex-friend. Maybe make up with him, or to know if he was okay.

Rumors spread about a wendigo killing people who got lost out there, so Vox was going to get to the bottom of this.

He was going to find this wendigo. and avenge his friend.

Will include:

Gore / Horror

One-sided Radiostatic

angst

Vox crashing out multiple times

Wendigos

It is a wip as i write this!