#and answered them in Discord to one person with ALMOST full details (still left some stuff out)

[prince-liest]

PSA I've been doing my best to be vague to avoid spoilers wrt all of the Once Bitten, Back For More questions I get, but there's at least two asks about that fic that I'm going to end up straight up not answering either because it's a spoiler or because even without being a spoiler it's a "this would read much better if you found it out when it comes up in the fic, I promise" kind of thing. If y'all would prefer I just hit 'post' with a little 'No comment! :)' instead, feel free to let me know!

[phantomrose96]

Hi hello that's me!

To be honest giving writing advice is always a little hard because the first answers that come to mind are always like "step 1: think of something cool. step 2: write it in a way that's cool". And then I have to step back and actually pick apart the details of everything I'm actually doing.

But I was chatting about this in the ABoT discord recently, so I have some stuff!

As for "writing like I do", I'm gonna assume this is about writing style. (Which is easier to talk about than the much more immaterial concept of "writing a compelling story"...which I could also try to talk about but requires even further picking-apart).

One thing I think I can talk about with regard to detail: I really really like atmospheric writing. A lot of what I write feels like I'm taking my audience out on a hike and I'm the person stopping everywhere to point out the moss and the bugs and the trees and the sun and everything. (Funny enough, part of my learning process right now is me trying to get a sense of when and how best to reign that in for scenes that need to be snappier and sharper. Balancing pacing and detail is tough!)

But for scenes that you really do want to be full of detail, where the atmosphere and the feeling is half the point of the scene - I do this thing where I try to kind of take a walk through the scene. (Oftentimes this is after I already know the basics of how the scene will go, or sometimes after I already have a rough first draft.) But take a walk like, really think through all 5 senses of being in that space. Not just sights, but sounds and smells, temperature, humidity. And not just what is there but what it feels like to be there. Sometimes I'll hit on a very particular kind of feeling and if it excites me and immerses me, I'll dig in to describing it. A late-night chilly bus ride that's too brightly lit like with Ritsu and Teru heading to the pig warehouse. A mall that's bustling and warm with Christmas aromatics, like Reigen taking Ritsu to the build-a-bear. The cold and humid grayness of a morning after a heavy storm that kind of prickles your neck like the start of Reigen's scene in ch42.

I like to lean into not just "describe the environment" but "describe how that environment makes the characters feel". I like to personify those descriptions some. Not just "it was rainy" but "this is how being caught in the rain feels" and making the rain and the environment almost its own character, something the characters interface with, almost like its capable of feelings of its own.

To grab an example:

Visual (breath curling), feeling (numb with cold), sound (noiselessly, before crashing). The environment is described by what it's like to be there, and feel and experience it. It's personified as something afraid of Ritsu. It's something Ritsu interfaces with.

And I just love playing with phrasing. "the birdsong stilled" - a sound described as if part of physical action. "left to shiver at the impact" - a physical response described like a response to cold. "lay in trepidation" - just fun.

Sharp words for sharp motions and sharp cold are used - lashed, snapped, crystalizing, pinning.

Words that amplify the amount of open empty space at play - curled to mist, a lot of descriptions of the open air and how things interact with it, words like "wake" of his attack, cleared a swath of sky, birds scattering

all serving to build the kind of atmosphere I want to communicate

Cars, sidewalk described in a way that very much personifies them. The fountain is being treated as a whole person pretty much.

I'm grabbing at the details that are the most interesting and immersive to me - the interplay of the fountain light, that emptiness of a park at night

*gestures*

hi!! im so sorry if this has been asked before, but ive been reading your fic lately and its so— its so good?? so amazing??? i love the detail and the just everything about it! its so well written! you inspire me to improve my writing, and i was just wondering if you had any tips to write like you do? or just how you got to that level of writing?

ah! if u mean A Breach of Trust, that was written by phantomrose96~ i have drawn a truckload of art for it tho ahaha

i Big agree with everything u said and the good news is that you can find em on their tumblr of the same name (here) if you'd like to shuffle this question their way~ -w- bbb

[sunrise-lou]

Stupid For You

Ft. Dream x Reader

Word count. 1.1k

Warnings. Fluff, tiny amount of angst, gender neutral

AU: Real life, kinda song lyric (mostly just a reference)

Song: “Stupid for You” Waterparks

A/N: Just a quick fic while I continue the Techno one, I didn’t expect it to take so long to write.

You and Clay had been in and out of these small arguments, well they were more like minor disagreements.

He wanted to tell the world about your love, but you weren’t ready, his fanbase had exploded over these past few months… not that you didn’t support him! In fact, you had encouraged the uploading to begin with, he had always been such a jokester and basically life of the “discord vc” and you had told him that his comedy would be the heart of the videos and a good start to a career online.

You had just had one of these little disagreements right before he started streaming, that was nearly 20 minutes ago and you were sitting quietly in the spare room. It wasn’t much of a spare room, more like a ‘I need a time out and want to chill alone’ kind of room. Saying that Clay was affectionate was an understatement, his love language was definitely touch, however yours was 100% words of affirmation.

There were now hundreds, even thousands of people claiming to be ‘crushing on Dream’, you knew that he loved you above all else, but it still made you insecure and you constantly asked him questions like; “Do you still love me?” or “Is this relationship strong enough for the internet?” It felt like everybody wanted him.

His answer was always full of love, he absolutely loved detailing how you made him feel, the butterflies you gave him when you smiled, even if it wasn’t at him. The euphoria he gets waking up every morning being able to cuddle into you, knowing how well the love between the two of you had blossomed.

You sat scrolling, flipping back and forth between Tiktok and Twitter, you loved looking at Dream Team edits, they were always so cute and clearly made with dedication. ‘Dedication’, that was just the problem, you knew a lot of Clay’s fans would be fine if he was in a relationship, but you knew a huge portion wouldn’t be.

With how often you were flip flopping between self-doubt and relationship-doubt, you weren’t sure how things would go it he revealed you.

‘Click.’

You didn’t bother looking up, he was probably just checking on you.

“Incoming!” He yells before jumping onto the bed, basically crushing you without warning.

“Wh-WHY!” You try pushing him off you, “You’re heavy, I can’t breathe!”

“Aww Y/n, that hurt,” He tries pouting, but the smile says it all, “Come on, I’m not that heavy~.”

You sigh, stopping your resist. Instead, you begin smiling too and go limp, quickly dropping your smile.

“Hey Y/n,” He shakes you gently, “Y/n?” The shakes get slightly more aggressive, almost in a sense of urgency.

Snorting out a laugh, you let him know you’re fine. He huffs in response and flops down to properly hug you.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I know…”

. . .

“Clay?”

He hums back a response.

“Are you still streaming?”

“Yeah, but I told them I needed a quick break even though I’ve only been streaming for about 20 odd minutes.”

“I think… I think I’m ready.”

“Wait, are you sure? I know I’ve asked a bunch, but I want you to know there isn’t any rush, I want you to be happy with me, here, in our little apartment… full of love…” You barely heard his last sentence, but you heard ‘love’ and that was all you needed.

There was nothing strong enough to rip the two of you apart, if you had lasted this long hidden, surely outing your relationship to the world would be fine. If they were real fans they’d love and support his decisions. One of those decisions being; you.

Clay pushed himself off of you and hopped off the bed, holding his hand out to you, which you graciously accepted.

He basically dragged you back into his ‘studio’, he was all smiles from the moment you had taken his hand.

You stood nearby and watched as he placed his headphones back on, pushing his hair back in the process, you thought he always looked so cute with his fringe pushed back.

“Hey, I’m back chat!” He yelled into the microphone, you wondered how even with the pop filter that he didn’t peak the microphone constantly. “What, Sapnap, no! I actually to grab something…” He turned to you, absolute heart eyes shone from him, “I should really say someone, actually…”

You had a moment of panic, maybe this was a bad idea.

Clay goes to grab your hands again, kissing the knuckles on one of them.

“Hey, tell me what you want me to say…” He whispers, not quite loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

You shrug back at him, you’d say you were incredibly nervous, but that didn’t even begin to describe how anxiety inducing this situation was.

“Come on sweetheart, you know I’m stupid for you. Nothing bad will happen, we’ll protect each other in this.” He had said this in his normal voice and the microphone definitely picked it up, because within 30 seconds the chat was spamming ‘Sweet Dreams ARC!’ and the usual ‘POG’. You caught a few small messages the left a sour taste in your mouth, but you were glad that most were positive.

Clay turns around in his chair, placing your hand on his shoulder and resting his own hand on top of yours.

“Well, chat, I know you can’t see them, but I want you to meet my dream, the sweetest human I’ve ever met.

You scoffed from second-hand embarrassment, that statement is not what you expected him to say.

“Hello chat, I hear Dream screaming to George and Sapnap constantly when he’s streaming and I need a doctor’s appointment for it.”

Clay looks at you, he clearly was not expecting you to back hand him with exposure as soon as he introduced you to his viewers. You laugh at his expression, now pouting, crossing his arms, the whole nine.

“Hello Gogy, hello Nick-y!” You greet the others and tilt your head down to the headphones, hearing a faint ‘Hi Y/n’ and ‘Hello!’, it was muffled, but you still caught it.

You kissed your boyfriend’s forehead and went to lay on the small couch in his studio, you wanted to spend time in his presence and listen to him talk, even if the two of you weren’t really conversing.

As the hours went by, he began receiving donations or chat questions about your relationship, as well as you. He’d answer some and refuse the more personal ones, there was one or two donations that expressed their distaste to ‘their Dream’ being ‘someone else’s Dream’ but he quickly said that you were his priority and that he was never ‘theirs’ to begin with.

The two of you were in deep, red roses stretched from your heart to his and it was perfect. Sometimes the thorns would hurt, but they were skin deep, you knew together you could overcome anything, you were stupid for him too.

[kasey-writes-stuff]

The boy with the reindeer clothes and captain america mask part two

The next day you both awake tangled in each other’s arms, you smile and blush softly “morning calla” he nodded softly groggily saying “good morning y/n” You sigh softly and begin to untangle yourself from Calla but his grip is firm as he whined softly and you giggle saying “calla we need to get up and make some breakfast and we need to decide where we’re going today” He groans “But y/nnnnn wouldn’t it be better to just stay here on the couch forever” You roll your eyes fondly “Well maybe for you but I’m hungry so I suggest you let me go before I start eating you!” You giggle playfully nibbling his neck making him squeak and giggle as he scrunches his neck “Eek! Ahhallrihihgghhtt ahhalllrrihihggjhttt ihihill lehehett yoouu uhuhupp!” You smirk softly “Good! Lets go” He lets you up reluctantly and you both head to the kitchen and begin making a simple breakfast of French toast and sausage. Once breakfast is finished cooking you sit and begin trying to think of where to go for the day. “Well we could go shopping I’d love to buy you some things while you’re here” you shake your head at him “no no way you’re not buying me anything I can buy stuff for myself but I don’t really feel like shopping today maybe we could go to an amusement park or something” he rolls his eyes “You’re not leaving without me having at least bought you one thing! Hmm I think the fairs in town does that sound good?” Your eyes sparkle as you nod excitedly “That sounds great! I’m so down for that!” He smiles at your excitement “The fair it is then!”

So your trip to the fair started off with getting some snacks! You each got a corn dog, a lemon shake up and then ended it with sharing a funnel cake! After the snacks you went and played a balloon game where you won each of you some posters and then played another one where Callahan won your plushie! He wanted to try and win you one of the big ones but you said no and he saw how truly happy you were with the little Fuli from lion guard plushie and stopped trying to convince you to let him win you one of the biggest plushies… Next you went walking about trying to find a ride that sparked your guys interest and you finally settled on the cheesy but classic Ferris wheel… The line luckily wasn’t too long and the sun was just beginning to set so in theory normally you would be looking at the sunset right? Yes but in your case no you and Calla were just so entranced with the other, you were desperately staring at his face in fear you’d forget it and he was stuck staring at yours not worried he would forget it because you show your face often but he was just taking in every detail he could that the cameras never seemed to catch… The little mole on your nose he was sure you probably hated but he was sure he loved, the way your cheeks could change from pink to red so fast and how it was shades of pink and red that he had never seen before… The way your eyes sparkle in a way he’s never seen anyone’s eyes sparkle and how just when he thinks they can’t get any sparklier they do when you laugh and he doesn’t know but when he laughs they’re at their sparkliest….

After the Ferris wheel we get ready to head home but as we pass by the fish game y/n stops me tugging on my sleeve softly and looking at me with puppy eyes as they ask “Calla can we please win two fish? Just two! Just so they’re not lonely… I’ll come visit all the time to help take care of them and I’ll send you money to help with their food and cleaning supplies and I’ll buy their tank and all the little decorations and everything they need!” I sigh softly rolling my eyes fondly at them as I nod and sign “Okay we can try and win some fish” They clap excitedly as they lean up and leave a kiss on my cheek, my cheeks heat up and I smile softly as I give the person the money.. We each begin throwing the ping pong balls as if our life depends on it we miss so many times but finally half way through I make one in and at the very end when we only have but two balls left y/n makes one in as well! They cheer excitedly hugging me tightly and it’s like a warmth I’ve never felt before washes over me, and when they pull away? It’s like there’s a big dark hole of cold emptiness left there that I’ve never noticed until now… We collect our fish and head to the car once in the car y/n is immediately brainstorming names “What about phineas and ferb or Drake and Josh or if they’re girls Carly and Sam?!” I snicker softly at their suggestions shrugging “Phineas and ferb sound cool but what if ones a boy and ones a girl?” Their eyes light up as they say “Phineas and Isabella” I nod as we finally begin to actually leave “I like that it’s cute like you” They blush turning their face away from me mumbling “shut up I’m not cute” I scoff softly rolling my eyes as I quickly poke their side, they squeak and jump lightly glaring at me but with no real malice “Eek! Cahalla don’t!” I snicker again and sign “Well then admit you’re cute” They sigh softly “ Fine I’m cute… to you” I shrug softly “Good enough for me”

Soon enough we made it to Walmart figuring we could get some decent stuff for now and upgrade it later on down the line. As we got out of the car y/n glanced at my face and then at my hand and I could tell what they were thinking so I wordlessly grabbed their hand pulling it to my lips for a few seconds and then let it down gently but didn’t let go instead keeping them clasped together my thumb gently rubbing their palm making them giggle softly for a few moments before sighing contently… Once inside we quickly found the fish supplies settling on a decent sized rectangle shaped aquarium, we grab the most colorful pebbles we can find, we decided to also pick out some decorations settling on a few different sized plants along with a little fake log and finally a little bubble chest!

I make sure to grab a few snacks before me and Calla leave and soon enough we’ve made it home! I carry in the snacks and the prizes while Calla carries in the aquarium supplies… We quickly rinse the aquarium and the rocks and then begin trying to find the best place to set it, we finally settle on putting it in the living room setting it on a small table off to the side. “So how much water should we add?” He shrugs softly “I don’t know maybe a little over half way? I mean we do have a lid for it so it’s not like we have to worry about them jumping out” You nod “Yea that sounds good let’s do it!” You decided even though it would take much longer to fill up this way that it was better to leave the aquarium on the table and use cups of water to fill it up… Of course you can’t take it fully serious and decide when almost done filling it up to splash a bit of water on calla as you’re filling up your cup, he gasps in surprise as you giggle before gasping as he splashes a bit on you! He snickers hiding behind his hand and you dump a little under half a cup on him and he squeaks softly before narrowing his eyes and pouring a full cup on you. Both of you are now soaked but smiling brightly at each other and before you know it you’re leaning up and he’s leaning down and your lips have connected again for the second time… You kiss only a few seconds longer before you say “As much as I enjoy this I’m getting cold and we need to finish filling the aquarium” He whines softly but nods knowing you’re right.. You each fill up your cups that being the final cups needed, you add in the special water treatment as calla grabs Phineas and Isabella… He carefully opens their bags and placed them in, you each stand back and smile looking at them, he softly wraps an arm around your waist and side holding you close against his side as you rest your head on his chest…

You stand there together a few more minutes before breaking apart, you quickly to grab some pajamas and begin to take a quick shower… Soon after Calla takes a quick shower his own self and then you each agree and decide to see if your friends are free to finally talk on discord, luckily they are you decide to play a slight prank maybe it could be called on them… Calla let’s you take his main chair as he grabs a second smaller chair for himself, you hold back a giggle as you quickly click call… Soon enough all your friends begin joining they were all quick to say their hellos to calla though they were confused asking why Calla was calling when it was y/n who asked if they were busy or not… Dream and Niki are the only two who already realize what’s going on so they simply stay silent… But for the rest of the group,the group being, Sapnap,George,Alex and Bad, they were very shocked when they suddenly heard a voice and then finally Alex being the one with a little sense realized it was you!

“Y/N THE PERSON YOU MET UP WITH WAS CALLAHAN?! NO WAY!” You giggle and Callahan smiles happily holding your hand “yep! I finally did it!” George is quick to make jokes “So have you seen his face yet or are you still like the rest of us and have no idea what he looks like” Calla covers his mouth hiding his laugh and you quickly mute to allow him to let his laugh if he wishes and he does and his laugh makes you laugh and you can hear George begging for answers but you don’t care and neither does Calla! A few more moments though and you’ve each stopped laughing and are looking at each other and suddenly Calla closes the distance leaving a quick peck on your lips… Finally you unmute “Sorry uh I’m- I mean we’re back, and for your information George…” You pause looking to Calla for confirmation that it’s okay and he nods softly “I have and it’s truly very cute and both everything I expected and nothing I ever expected” Everyone either awwed softly or made exaggerated gagging sounds which made you and Calla blush and then giggle softly, Dream was next to speak “So how are you guys communicating?” You look to Calla and he shrugs softly nodding for you to go ahead..

“Well I of course just verbally talk but Calla does a mix of sign and verbal talking but mainly just sign” Everyone thinks and decides to not make any jokes as they don’t wanna risk upsetting Calla and instead Dream takes lead saying “That’s great, so what have you guys been up to?” You and Calla look at each other knowingly smiling a bit and he presses the quietest kiss he can to you cheek as you say “We went to the fair the other day and Calla won me and plushie and we each won a fish! Calla is gonna keep them though and just video call me so I can see them when I want” Karl gasps excitedly “What did you name them?!” Calla types in chat “Well I didn’t tell y/n but I was thinking of naming them dumb and dumber” You scoff and hit him softly before going to hit the mute button but he stops you and just covers his mouth as he laughs a bit… Theres a collective sound of gasps before sapnap says “NO WAY DID CALLAHAN JUST LAUGH?!” Calla rolls his eyes at their shock and excitement light heartedly and you shrug softly as you say “maybe it was maybe it wasn’t that’s for me and Callahan to know and you guys not to know” Alex whines softly “but y/nnnn we wanna know!” Bad is quick to agree “Yea! We wanna know!” Even Niki joins in on the joke “Yes! Stop gatekeeping Callahan from us!” You and Callahan both laugh and you say “Hey I could really gatekeep him by just ending the call right now to go-“ suddenly you cut yourself off blushing realizing while yea they know your main love language is physical touch they also know you’re crushing hardcore on Calla so they might catch on… And neither of you are ready for that! You’re quick to catch yourself though saying “To go take care of Phineas and Isabella” Luckily most everyone sounds distracted well enough by the names to not realize your near mistake and they just take it as a normal small stutter, George says “But how do you know ones a boy and ones a girl?” Alex says “Yea and how do you know which is which?!” You really don’t have an answer “Well we don’t and we can at least tell them apart because one has a white spot on its head, but yea we don’t know but they need names we can’t just call them fish one and fish two!” Dream snickers “Then just call them white head and not white head” He bursts into giggles and soon everyone else is giggling as well including you and Calla soon after though you yawn softly and despite your protests Calla types in chat saying “Guys I’m gonna go ahead and make y/n get some sleep we’ll try and call you all again soon okay?” Everyone starts saying a chorus of sad goodbyes and a mixture of well wishes and jokes…

Soon enough the call is finally over and you whine softly looking at Calla before giggling softly “Now they’re really gonna think I’m gatekeeping you” he laughs as he stands and holds his arms out to you as he says “so let them think what they want maybe I like you gatekeeping me…” he pauses as you walk towards him and then he swiftly picks you up bridal style “maybe I want you to gatekeep me all night…” Your eyes widen a bit before another yawn escapes and you blush “Let me get some pajamas first okay? Then I would love to gatekeep you all night” he smiles blushing brightly as he carries you to your room and gently sets you down before turning around and shutting your door waiting outside it for you.. You find some comfy shorts and t-shirt tossing it on and open the door lightly tapping Calla’s shoulder, and despite your insistence that you can walk he turns around and smiles picking you up once more and he carries you to the bathroom allowing you to do your business and you allow him to do his and then you each brush your teeth and despite you insisting again that you can walk he says “no I wanna carry you it’s nice I uh like having you in my arms…” You blush leaving a kiss on his cheek, soon after you’re back to his room and he sets you down and you each pull back the covers and climb in… Calla and you both get comfortable and then he nervously puts his arms around your back hands resting on your stomach and you smile snuggling closer to him and within minutes you’re each asleep..

[crowned-ladybug]

1, 6 (ik you do but I'm very curious on the process), 9, and 21 for the writers asks! ♡

As typical it's taking me ages to actually get to these I'm sorry!!!! Thank you for the ask tho anyway <3

1) Who is your favorite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

With all the characters over the years this is a tough one to pick out but proooobably Benrey still. He's got very fun internal monologue in my hands and you can fuck around a Lot writing him, and that does in fact also make him Easy. He's always come pretty naturally to me which explains a thing or two about my HLVRAI fics i'd say sbhdcbhdcbs

(Recent honorable mention to Sam bc he's also been proving surprisingly fun and then Dima destroyed me by saying his POV is the closest to how i talk on discord out of all the characters they've read me write so far)

6) Do you outline your fics? If so, how?

I start with the notepad app and trying to do a relatively basic lineup of just what scenes are gonna happen, so that I can have the pacing and order of things down. I hardly ever go in with a full lineup of scenes/plot already laid out in my brain, so this is where the fic is first actually born

This works half the time, giving me about a sentence for a whole scene, and then other times i end up outlining an entire scene on the spot

Then comes copying the thing over into an actual document that isn't fuckin exhausting to look at and thus the second pass of rounding out the scenes I haven't accidentally outlined well enough already

My outlines have been getting more detailed lately, so here's to believing in ghosts in specific had a Lot of bits near the end where i was just copying notes over almost word for word bc i had entire paragraphs laid out already. Other times stuff gets left at "and then they talk about [topic]" level of detail until i get to it and have to suffer

A lot of fleshing out also happens on the fly while I'm writing a completely different scene or not writing at all and then have to tab back over to the outline and add like two sentences that i cannot allow myself to forget

It's hard to pick a good example without drowning this post but this was the outline for the first scene of poison in the ashes, for comparison's sake

(I very rarely use any dialogue tags at all when outlining unless they're Significant already. I either just know who's talking anyway or if there could be any doubt, I use a chat format instead)

9) Do you visualize scenes in your head before you write them? (Can you picture the setting, character body language etc)

YES

I am a Very visual person so a Lot of the times I'm trying to put entire movie scenes onto paper and even when that's not so painfully the case, I always have the visual counterpart in my brain. Things are always pictured. Hanging onto very Very specific line deliveries which i cannot convey in text is what's less often tho, and thus sadder to forever only be in my brain, unable to hand to anyone

(I've gotten compliments on specific scenes feeling movie-like before and every time it's such huge thing to hear, that the image not only got onto the paper but also into someone else's head)

21) Writers choice - pick any of these questions that you want to answer.

14) What is something you wrote in a fic that you are hoping readers picked up on but you don't know if they did? And/or, what is something that you were excited that readers did pick up on?

There's always stuff and hardly any confirmation one way or another, however very specific example from recently: the way the first collapse scene in poison in the ashes is arranged was very much a callback to the concussion scene in and what comes tomorrow that I never expected to be picked up on and then Dima screamed at me about it so much :D

Also from poison in the ashes: when in one scene they talk about bad tea, and Rafe tells Sam to just tell him to make some next time, and then the next day Rafe is in fact the one making the tea while Sam loiters. Very on purpose. Of all the things Sam has to fill Rafe in on every morning he's decided to include the tea

[guardianofrivendell]

The Way to a Hobbit’s Heart

Thorin Oakenshield x Bilbo Baggins (Bagginshield)

Requested: Yes and no! This piece is part of “The Hobbit Discord Server’s Holiday Gift Exchange 2020″ and is my gift to @misfit-with-a-pen​ 💖

Warnings: oh my goodness, all the fluff! I can’t! Also Sassy Bilbo because it’s still me who wrote this :) 

Summary: When Bilbo enjoys a nice afternoon walk in the Shire, he notices a smell... A rather foul smell, if he was honest. When he comes closer to his home, the smell seems to intensify. It couldn't come from his house now, could it? Because Thorin was home.... Alone. Oh dear!

A/N: This story couldn’t exist without the help of @xxbyimm​! She is such an amazing and fantastic person and always ready to listen to me rant about ideas, complaining about everything and gave me TONS of advice on top of that. How wonderful is that?

Bilbo always favored late afternoon walks over morning strolls.

Though he knew most of his neighbors wouldn’t agree with him and probably would think of him as even more peculiar than they already did if they knew, he just couldn’t help himself. 

You see, it was the way the sun hung low in the sky, giving everything it shone upon a warm golden glow. Furthermore, as most of the hobbit community was too occupied prepping the most important meals of the day, the town was practically deserted.

This meant Bilbo could enjoy the beautiful sceneries in peace without having to get involved in friendly banter and polite greetings. And finally - the temperature was nor too warm or too cold, which was just perfect. 

But there was nothing better than an afternoon walk in early spring. Birds were building their nest, flying past his head with twigs in their little beaks. 

It reminded him of that one time a thrush had landed on Lobelia’s straw hat and had absolutely wrecked the damn thing. It took her a while to notice and Bilbo had had the greatest difficulty in keeping a straight face. She went running through the Shire afterwards, screaming about a vicious bird attack. Since that day he couldn’t help but snicker every time he saw a thrush.

Yes, Bilbo loved his walks indeed. But he loved his home just as much.

It wouldn’t be long before any respectable Hobbit started working in their garden again after the winter break and every yard and patio would get overflowed with a soft and subtly sweet flowery scent. It wasn’t any different in his garden. 

The flower buds of the early bloomers were starting to show, some of them already in their lovely, bright colours. Just a few more days and he could bury his nose in the daffodils, tulips or primroses, taking in their flowery scent.  It was a moment Bilbo looked forward to every single year, but now he could finally share it with his husband Thorin. 

To everyone’s surprise, this grumpy dwarf had warmed up to the art of gardening. Under Bilbo’s patient supervision, they were able to turn their neglected patch of land into the beautiful garden it was today.  

Bilbo smiled to himself at the thought of his husband. He came a long way to get here... Both of them did. Literally and figuratively. 

Thorin had been under a lot of stress for a long time without barely any chance to breathe: the rebuilding of Erebor, restoring trade agreements, bringing his people back to the mountain, … It never stopped and he was close to getting a burn-out.

Bilbo had seen it coming from miles away and had raised the alarm on Thorin’s health. Bilbo’s home in the Shire proved to be the perfect place to get a much needed break from ruling a Kingdom.  

The mountain was in good hands with Fíli and Kíli as his advisor - Balin was still there to keep an eye on them - and the peace and quiet of the Shire was wearing off on Thorin. He was finally able to relax and enjoy the time with Bilbo.Even so, they couldn’t stay away forever and they’d made plans to return to the mountain before the annual Durin’s Day celebration.  

That didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the time that was still left.

Bilbo continued his way on the path that would eventually lead him back to his home, he stopped when he smelled something odd. He sniffed a few times, tilting his head sideways. What in the…?  

Bilbo couldn’t tell what the smell reminded him of, and yet it somehow seemed familiar. Was Lobelia trying to burn down her house again with another attempt at copying his famous rabbit stew? 

The closer he got to his home, the stronger the scent became. It couldn’t come from his house now, could it? Thorin was home so nothing serious could have happened.

Bilbo’s eyes widened.  

Thorin was home… alone.  

“Oh dear,” he murmured.

Thorin was not yet entirely used to living like a hobbit, still adjusting to life in the Shire. The more delicate, joie-de-vivre way of life that suited the hobbits didn’t always go well with the sturdy, rather head-on approach and maybe a tad brute way of the Dwarrows. He definitely wasn’t the domestic type. Yet.

Bilbo hurried up the lane to his front yard, struggled to open the gate in his haste and made his way inside. When the door closed behind him, it felt like someone had slapped him in the face.

Oh yeah, the smell definitely came out of his house. He coughed a few times, and his eyes started to water. He completely missed the leftover trails of smoke near the ceiling, and that was maybe for the better. 

“Thorin?” he squeaked between coughs. “Love?”

No answer. Was he even here? And what was that pungent smell? It almost smelled like an onion died a painful death and was left to rot! But with added spices. Now he almost wished it was Lobelia’s cooking instead... 

He left the entrance hall and stepped further into their home, making his way to the study. If Thorin was home, he would probably be there. Bilbo hoped to find his other half hunched over a book, or too focused on writing a letter to his nephews to hear his calls. Not that he didn’t trust Thorin to find his way back home on his own… okay fine, maybe he didn’t.  

Before he reached the study, his eye fell on the pantry. A rare curse escaped his mouth.

Empty jars, most of them tipped over, crumbs and pieces of vegetables on the ground together with a puddle of liquid that Bilbo wasn’t too keen on investigating further. 

He stood frozen in the round doorway. What had happened? 

Flashbacks of that one fateful night when the company had barged in - uninvited might he add - and raided his kitchen and pantry flooded his mind.

Could they...?

No, he shook his head. It was too quiet for the company to be here. Plus Thorin would have mentioned it. There were no secrets between them. Not anymore.  

He crossed the hallway and entered his kitchen. Or rather, what was left of it.

If he thought his pantry was raided, it was nothing in comparison to his kitchen. There were dirty pots and pans all over the place, as if the dishes hadn’t been done in weeks. Most of the cabinets were opened, the contents of the shelves in disarray or scattered over the counter. A lot of food made it to the floor as well, and it seemed like someone had tried to clean it up by shoving it to one side of the kitchen.  

It looked like Thorin had tried to make something for dinner. Or a snack maybe? At least, he hoped it was Thorin who wrecked the kitchen. Because there wasn’t a single hair on his feet that would even consider cleaning this up himself! 

“Thorin, I really do love you but you got to learn to clean up after yourself,” Bilbo muttered in frustration when he picked up a dirty kitchen rag from the floor. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” a low voice sounded behind him.  

Bilbo swirled around and he forgot to breathe for a second.

There, in the doorway of the dining room, stood Thorin in just his dark blue tunic and black breeches, barefoot and an apron tied around his hips. A towel carelessly thrown over his shoulder and a casserole in his hands made it look like he belonged in a kitchen. But Bilbo knew better. 

The dwarf himself looked like a complete snack. If it wasn’t for the state of the kitchen and the foul smell still filling his nostrils, he would’ve jumped him without a second thought.

No, scratch the snack! His husband was a full five course meal. Bilbo took a deep breath. And by Durin’s beard, was he hungry... 

Thorin lifted the pot a little. Bilbo stepped out of the way so he could pass.

“It just needs a little more time on the fire.”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. 

That became abundantly clear when Thorin lifted the lid so he could stir in what looked like stew, and Bilbo had to grab the counter to steady himself.

Oh, well, at least now I know where that smell comes from, he thought. Breathe through your mouth, that’s the key! 

“You know, if you didn’t like my cooking, you could’ve just told me,” Bilbo joked while he took the pot off the fire again in an effort to save what could be saved, but not before he put the lid back on. “I think this is done, love.”

“Are you sure?” Thorin chuckled. The sound reverberated in his chest and it made Bilbo’s stomach flip. It was one of his favourite sounds and it still did something to him every time he heard it. 

“I wanted to repay you for taking such good care of me,” he said. “So I made us dinner.”

“You did?” Bilbo asked, endeared by the gesture but honestly, also a little afraid for his life by now. “Marvellous!”

“Go and take a seat at the table, I’ll be right there,” Thorin hummed and he gestured towards the dining room.  

Thorin came out of the kitchen and placed the pot in the middle of the table and wiped his hands on the apron. His eyes fell on Bilbo who still stood a bit to the side.  

When he entered the dining room Bilbo froze, stunned by what he saw. 

Thorin had set the table beautifully and had paid extra attention to details, the way Bilbo liked. Freshly picked flowers from their garden stood proudly in a white porcelain vase, napkins neatly folded on the right side of the plate and he had used Bilbo’s mother’s pottery. He really went out of his way for this. 

“Is it not to your liking?” Thorin asked, a slight tremble in his voice. “If it’s about the mess in the kitchen, I promise I’ll clean it up later.”

He was nervous, Bilbo realised when he looked at Thorin. The King under the Mountain who could face multiple armies with only twelve companions without a second thought or hint of fear was almost shaking with nerves because he had made dinner for his lover. It was adorable.  

“It’s lovely, Thorin. Really, it is,” he assured him, while Thorin pulled a chair from under the table so Bilbo could sit down. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all.” 

Thorin quickly made his way to the other side of the table and filled the mugs with ale and the glasses with wine. Bilbo however, eyed the food on the table cautiously. 

To be fair, from a distance it looked decent. There were carrots, mashed potatoes, other vegetables that he couldn’t quite name at first sight but seemed okay, bread,… And the pot of stew. On the corner of the table stood a bowl of what he suspected was some kind of gravy, but the chunks in it made him doubtful. 

He took some of everything on his plate and tried to keep it together when the aroma of the stew filled his nostrils once more.

Thorin looked at him expectantly. 

The things one does for the one they love, Bilbo thought while he took a deep breath and tried the stew. Oh dear, it tasted exactly like it smelled!

He tried to swallow it as fast as he could without a lot of chewing. His hand flew to his glass of wine and with a large gulp of the red substance his food finally went down.  

“Is there something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s… well, it’s a little hot,” he explained. That wasn’t exactly a lie. 

He tried to find the correct words to let him know cooking maybe wasn’t his strong point, but decided to change the subject instead. “Have you heard from Fíli yet?”

Thorin shook his head.  “I did not. It hasn’t been that long since I sent my last letter. Give him some time.”

He took a sip from his glass of wine. “But tell me about your afternoon, did you enjoy your walk?” 

Bilbo was relieved he could talk for a while - and avoid taking another bite - and told Thorin about his walk and how he was planning on asking old master Worrywort what he did to his wood poppies to get them so big and bright.

While he was listening intently, Thorin took a first bite of his homemade stew.

The minute he closed his mouth, his eyes widened and he almost choked on the meat. He let his fork drop on the plate with a loud clatter, a fist against his lips while he tried really hard to swallow the food.

Bilbo didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. He decided on a neutral expression, like it was the most normal thing in the world for a person to choke on a spoonful of stew.  

Thorin brought the napkin to his mouth and wiped the tears out of his eyes, still panting from the effort.

“Mahal, why didn’t you say anything?” he groaned.

Bilbo eyed him carefully, not wanting to hurt Thorin’s feelings. He worked so hard to prepare all this, well, you couldn’t exactly call it food…

“About what?” he tried, gathering his courage and taking another spoonful. 

“The food! I saw you eat it!” Thorin murmured, his face distorting in absolute horror as he watched his husband trying his best to process another bite.

“Please don’t. I can’t believe you want to take another bite!” 

“You made this for me, of course I’m going to eat it,” Bilbo said, smiling at him. Please don’t make me eat it again, Bilbo pleaded internally. 

“To be honest, I don’t even think Bombur would touch this,” Bilbo added.

“That bad, huh?” he laughed. “Who am I kidding, of course it is, I tasted it. I still taste it!”

He took his mug of ale and chugged it down in one go. When he placed it on the table again with a thud, his expression had changed into defeat.

“I know you love your meals and this isn’t…” he rose from his chair. “This is not a meal worthy of any hobbit, let alone Bilbo Baggins.”

With the majesty only a true dwarven king can muster, Thorin strode from the dining room towards the kitchen. Bilbo shuffled in his seat, pondering what had happened before hurrying behind his One.

The sight that greeted him made his heart clench. Thorin had started cleaning up the mess, his back to the door, head low and shoulders slumped. Bilbo could see he was distraught and clearly wounded in his pride. 

In a few strides Bilbo stood behind his husband and threw his arms around him, giving a little squeeze.

”Don’t you ever think what you do isn’t enough. The fact that you went through all this trouble for me, means more to me than you’ll ever know,” Bilbo mumbled into Thorin’s neck before he placed a featherlight kiss there, which elicited a groan out of the King’s chest.

Thorin turned around and wanted to return the favor, but Bilbo stopped him. 

“No, no, no, Thorin. First we need to clean up this mess. I’ll help you.”

After an hour of cleaning, they sat on a spotless kitchen floor, looking over their work proudly.

“We make a great team, you and me,” Thorin said.

Bilbo rested his head on Thorin’s shoulder and sighed contentedly.

“Can you promise me one thing though?”

“What’s that?” Thorin wondered.

“Please leave the cooking to me?”

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​ @artsywaterlily​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Comics: Spies Like Us and Dime after Dime or Weblena: The Preschool Days (Lena Retrospective) (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, My Lena Retrospective, which fittingly has now come to Women’s History Month! I sadly do not have anything besides this arc prepared for the month. This month is pretty packed for me with two shows a week to cover, as while there’s only two weeks of Ducktales left final space starts up right after to take it’s spot, two arcs to cover, and two time specific movie reviews: animal crossing the movie and the 1990 TMNT film. I will try to get more than the currently planned top 12 superheroines list out there... but this month is very tight as is, so if I do not I deeply apologize.

Now that’s out of the way, it’s appropriate we start Women’s history month on some likely lesser known parts of Lena’s history, with some comics stories focusing on our faviorite emo lesbian duck and her 87 counterpart. Before I get started on that though Kev my patreon pointed out something intresting a few weeks back i’ve been forgetting to get to and since we’re looking into Minima, I felt this was the perfect time to do so: Lena’s Concept art. 

There’s quite a few things to gleam from this. For starters as pointed out in the reddit thread I got the image as a whole from this was made in 2015, meaning Lena was one of the first new characters designed for the series and was part of it from the VERY early stages, as evidenced by the fact that despite clearly having their new personalities established, Beakly and Webby still had the old designs. 

The other notable change is that her first design was way more like both Magica nad Minima, a bit more modern, but clearly far more obvious who she was related to. She also had all black feathers making the shadow twist a bit more obvious and was likely done away with both to avoid giving that twist away, the same reason for the fake lestrange name, and to avoid accidently black coding her, as while Lena being black would’ve been intersting, it also would’ve invited a firestorm of controversy given that their one black character in season 1.. woul’dve started off as a homeless, manipulative antagonist, and none of that would play well nor was it something the progressive crew of this show couldn’t spot from a mile away.  And even this early on they have an almost final design ready, simply changing the shirt to fit her personality more, and her hair to be pink because it honestly looked better She also had green eyes throughout, but for whatever reason they phased them out. That part I don’t quite get as they look nice but probably they were hard to translate to the reboot style once they settled on their own. Her purple eyeshadow and haircut though have stuck since and were good calls. 

One last VERY obvious note.. Webby was gay for Lena from minute one. While Dana helped it is now VERY obvious they gay coded this relationship from the design phase, and the crew was entirely aware the whole time and I gave them less credit than I should have. They clearly had this in mind, and it’s very likely ONLY subtext because Disney, while making more and more progress, is very reluctant to have queer characters as Owl House was a struggle and since they have a tighter leash on properites based on the sensational 6, that means Frank knew they had the same odds of making Webby or Della queer in anything but subtext that a pig has of suviving in a slaughterhouse. I bring this up because I fear the series getting accused of queerbaiting somewhere down the road instead of doing what they could with a bad hand and hoping they could make the show as gay as they could. Penny is as out as they posisbly could get her, and Violet and Lena’s dad’s got a full apperance, if no speaking role that made it obvious beyond a shadow of a doubt their gay and did it in a plot important episode. So they did their best and I want them to get credit for that. 

But while this is all intresting stuff, join me under the cut for the meat of today’s review as I dig into Lena’s only apperance in the tie-in comic that was never punished here, and the only apperance of her protoype Minima.

Spies Like Us:  As I mentioned this comic was never published here which is doubly weird to me because of how I knew this story existed. Since I follow comics weekly and buy trades reguarly, I read the solicits companies put out eveyr month to see what new series are coming, what the ones i’m currently reading are doing, and what trades are coming out. That sort of thing, and it’s something I love. I know their basically adds.. but their well put together adds that really pull you into the books you like. The big two and the indies are all very good at it and sometimes i’ts the only way to know a comic is coming if the company dosen’t make a press release for it ahead of time. 

So naturally given there are several comics I follow at idw, paticuarlly the TMNT comics, I read those solicits and found they were going to do an issue with Webby and Lena becoming spies, and was excited about it. I ended up forgetting about it and never really followed the Ducktales comic as it came out, and upon reading an issue or two recently, one for another comission by kev as one story, happy happy valley, was particularly terrible. For those who haven’t read the story or my review, it involved the family getting stranded on an island where their forced to partake in activites and smile..that somehow turned into an aseop about Louie wanting to be rich. It ended with this

Yes.. really. That actually happened. But even with this, I fully planned to cover the issue when I covered Lena, and brought it up to Kev when he commissioned the retrospective. He gave me the discord equilvent of a blank stare and had never heard of it. I soon found out why: the story was replaced as, and fair play to disney, it spoiled Beakly’s past from the agent 23 episode which wasn’t going to air in time.  What dosen’t work is they never reprinted the story in The US.. didn’t put it in a future issue and just swap it’s place didn’t put it in the nothing. And the story was fully complete as we’ll see, with a cover and everything so they had no excuse whatsoever to NEVER use it, even with what happened to Lena in the season finale, this clearly took place before that and it was weird to just shelve it because of that. But thankfully when a bunch of the stories were reprinted overseas, this and another one, also webby centric got published overseas. But not in english.

Lucky for me, I was able to find an english translation of an english story which you can read RIGHT HERE. It was translated by @neopuff and I thank them for it as without them this review would not be possible and want to give them all the credit. So was it worth all their hard work translating it? Well let’s take a look. 

We begin at the Manor where Lena is skulking around suspiciously.. though it turns out she and Webby are just playing hide and seek. Though Lena accuses cheating. The dialouge here is pretty flat though that’s not Neopuff’s fault at all. As I can attest from reading other stories a lot of the early IDW comics are just this flat in dialoguge no matter the writer as they were likely given character descriptions and basic info about the show they likely had written up for merchandising and Frank and Co were given no involvement and likely weren’t made avaliable to consult on the comics to help them be a bit more fleshed out. It’s very obvious to me Disney just tried to get these pumped out so they’d have a series in stores to tie in without carring about qualities and given Scrooge debuted in comics, their lack of care toward that side of things in general, but especially in the first american published original duck comics in a while, bothers me a lot. It’s inexcusable. 

That being said the story isn’t half bad nor is the setup as the two hear a beeping and find it’s Beakly’s phone going off with a mysterious message from Q, Webby thinks she’s been reactivated, and is encouraged by Lena to go look after her while she stays along. While Webby says in response

It just feels grossly out of character for both. Lena is far more subtle about manipulation as shown five minutes ago and Webby blindly trusts her. Because she has a massive crush on her and is naïve about how the world works. It just seems very odd of her to get suspicious as she never does on screen, and again it comes off as Disney having barely given the writers any materials on them when i’m sure Frank or Matt would’ve been happy to write up a thing for them to help outside of the usual press materials they were given. 

Though hte last line isn’t all that out of character and has an obvious answer as within a jumpcut Launchpad’s taking them to London and is told to blend in.. which he does with an australian flag and accent.. good gag. 

So our heroines do some heroic breaking and entering and look for the package, but soon find while hiding it’s already in transit.. and had obvious bows on int. Whoops. Our heroes trie the old follow tha tcar bit and refreshingly, it dosen’t pan out as the guy stops and tells them to get out. A nice twist. Unable to follow, our heroes instead find launchpad lost, as his map is upside down

So Lena dares him if he can follow that plane, a nice bit of character for both. I will give Joe credit. While the dialouge’s a bit flat and there was that out of character moment.. for the most part he does nail the actual character down and does use it decently enough. He’s just not given enough page room or actual details to work  with is all. 

So while our heroes follow they end up having to crash as they run out of fuel.. lucky their with the expert but end up near home where the package is delivered to. Turns out this wasn’t a spy thing, this was just a thing with her aunt. That’s fine and a nice gag.. it’s just ruined by just sorta.. ending. Lena leaves disapointed and Beakly scolds webby for “playing spy” and she’s sad. That’s it that’s how it ends. Which dosen’t fit the characters, as while Beakly would defintely scold her, it just dosen’t FIT that she’d be that tearse or not appricate the effort or give her an actual lecture and it feels like Joe had no idea how to end this after the gag and just.. ended it. 

Final Thoughts for Spies Likes Us: This was okay.  It is a bit of a disappointment as for the only story not available.. i’ts just okay and not really above an average Ducktales comics story, with some nice character bits but feeling a bit weak overall, as do at least the first half of the idw comics. I haven’t read the later stuff to see if it got better. It’s worth a read if you like Webby and Lena as characters and it’s not BAD, it’s just not anything impressive and is a simple hyjinks filled misunderstanding story. 

Dime After Dime:

So now  we go back a bit to the original. I didn’t do these in chronological order because frankly, Dime after Dime is the better story of the two and the bigger one at that, so I have more to work with here. But the original also had comics and honestly from the few i’ve read much BETTER comics. I chalk this up to two things: The Ducktales 87 comics seem to have come out AFTER the series was already a hit, and since Ducktales is pretty close to the original uncle scrooge comics minus it’s own tweaks here and there, it’s easy enough to just write the stories like you would a regular uncle scrooge story, just with Webby and Launchpad added, whereas the idw writers were staffed with writing for all new versions of the characters with noticable differences without much to go on.  It’s why to me with tie in comics you have two options: Wait long enough so you can put your story inbtween the episodes like the Steven Universe and Regular Show comics did or just make your own continuity entirely like the Adventure Time Comics and the Archie TMNT Adventures series did. The ONLY time i’ve seen a comic work like this is the Bravest Warriors comic, which had a talented writer and fit well enough in the margins until it sadly ended.. and honestly is BETTER in some cases than the series. I might get to it someday. The point is this comic shows why you need to have a deft hand adapting something instead of just falling your arms about and hoping it’ll work. 

So today’s comic was part of some Disney Series called cartoon tales, which clearly repackaged comic stories from wherever, and put them together. I don’t know much about it and the only other issue avaliable collects the disney adventures adaptation of “Just Us Justice Ducks”, which I might cover at some point. This book does have two other stories which i’d be happy to do on comission or on my own at some point, one involving gladstone the other gizmoduck, but for now, i’m just sticking to the title story and the reason you all came here. 

So we open with Magica gazing into her crystal ball from her Mt. Vesuvies base saying that Scrooge will never know what hit him I know exactly what and who wiil hit him thank you very much. 

Scrooge is seeing Webby off to her first day of day camp, getting all teary eyed which is touching. Beakly apparently goes with her as the story never SAYS Sshe does but she’s not also not around when the story moves on, as Launchpad says it looks like rain. Scrooge dismisses him, though Launchpad turns out to be right. Scrooge had good reason for once though, instead of just being a dick good on you comic for making me not want to punch him in the face, trust me that is a high bar to clear with the scrooge comics, as the weather was fine just a minute ago. Naturally it was Magica All Along! Nothing scrooge can do now that eveyrthing has gone wrong! Her entrance though is sadly not a catchy earwormy tune, but .. this confusing line

I think your thinking of Gladstone. And he’s still single so.. have at that but no Scrooge is the one who values hard work over anything else and brags about THAT or being rich. I .. I don’t get this line and frankly I don’t want to. Even in stories where the dime is supernaturally lucky and the source of his wealth he dosen’t boast about it because he’s not stupid and dosen’t want everyone knowing how to bankrupt him instantly. This line will baffle me until I die, presumably, given my life’s tragetctory, after reviewing an episode of mighty ducks and slipping on some a jerky wrapper. 

Scrooge asks what she wants... 

No this isn’t that kind of story sadly. Her plan is to.. zap the bin with lightning and take the dime. Really just went with your first draft didn’t you magica? But as stupid as this plan is Scrooge has prepared for it. He installed a lightning rod on the bin to save on power, and to power his new super soaker traps. So all Magica did was save him money. She flies off and nothing is acomplished. 

So we get back to Webby at the Teenie Weenie Day Camp.. and just so you don’t think that was a terrible joke on my part...

My theory for how this name got approved at all is the editor KNEW how that sounded and just wanted to see if Disney would actually print a comic with the phrase Teenie Weenie without getting what it means in slang or how hilariously inapproriate it is to namme a children’s camp after it. 

Your probably wondering who that grown woman calling Webby a dweeb is. Well story wise, she’s SUPPOSED to be another kid at the camp around Webby’s age. In practice, she looks like THIS in closeup

So it looks and plays like a 30 year old woman snuck into the day camp and no one’s noticed she’s not actually a children. Or their just humoring her because she had a week to live. I don’t know. I do know she doesn’t get to judge on names. 

Snippy Von Glitz, proof rich people really do hate their kids and this this comic is trying personally to give me material. Snippy is your average alpha bitch, taking a chair from Minma and being obnoxious and classist and all that jazz. Minima gets hers back by making the chair bouncy then returning it to normal so Snippy gets in trouble when she makes up things about the chair, with the lady in charge getting ready to call her Dad. You cannot convince me that her “Dad” is just what she calls her husband, this is how they both get off, and that the lady at the preschool only tolerates it because they pay her a lot and so far the kids haven’t noticed Snippy is 30. Webby likes minima finding her name pretty, proving that the ho yay is alive no matter the webby and magica relative, and Minma returns the favor by saving her from a block. 

Minma is reluctant to make an actual friend, finding they aren’t worth anything and given most of the kids here apparently pick on her and her aunt is well.. Magica, it’s understandable why she’d be so cold. But Webby presses on and says something from Scrooge about friends. Which given Ducktales scrooge has none goes weird but it gets Minma to find out she knows and lives with Scrooge, so she cons webby into taking the dime for show and tell, showing that she can manipulate them with her powers, and that he won’t notice it’s missing, getting her with “I thought you wanted to be friends” 

So let’s pause for a second and compare and contrast the two: Both are the niece, or at least sorta in Lena’s case, of Magica, both manipulate webby, and both are her first real friend: The 87 boys are little monsters and I don’t consider them friends or even brothers, while the 2017 ones are just that: brothers. Their her siblings in all but blood, not friends and have hteir own long complicated history. 

But otherwise the two are vastly different. Lena is a far more complex character as she’s been abused her whole life, is a rebel because Magica hardly gave her agency, and while she starts wooing webby out of self interest it’s clear even as far as the first episode she cares. Lena would gladly be part of the world if she could and this whole scheme is to gain that choice. 

Minma is still sympathetic but very different: She walls herself off because the other kids laugh and mock her for being herself and lashes out at them.. not unreasonably mind , but still feeling she needs no one else.. but as we’ll learn later she’s only helping Magica to finally feel accepted, to get all the fancy clothes and stuff that will make her popular instead of that grown woman masquerading as a kid for disturbing reasons. Minma is at her heart just a hurt kid desperate to fit in. And while Lena shares the desire for a place to belong.. it’s at it’s core much sadder. Lena.. wants a family. Someone to love her and to care about her and actually look after her. Minma has that she just wants to be loved. it’s similar but very diffrent and I can see why Lena evolved into what she did, as Frank and Matt ended up going in a far darker but ultimately more interesting direction. Minima is not a bad character at all though and without her I don’t think we would’ve had Lena, but at the end of the day the 87verse is just not that complicated, so the reboot needed something more and that more evolved into who we have now. 

Both kids excitedly talk about their new friends, with their respective guardians being distracted. Scrooge is distracted by the fact his car is a bit bumpy and Launchpad offers to fix it up for free with some parts from a buddy, which given the sentence “This won’t cost you anything” makes him erect, Scrooge agrees. Magica meanwhile, whose watching Minima while her mom is away which raises a LOT of questions we don’t have time for like who she is, is she’s poes wife or does Magica have other siblings... it’s a lot of questions we’re never going to get answers to. 

The next day Webby got the dime easy as Scrooge was distracted. so Minima swaps them while she’s distracted. But while swiping it was easy, which to be fair Webby is likely approved in his security so it woudln’t match her.. or the story just needed to progress. You make the call. 

Magica does the logical thing and goes and get sthe dime and the story ends there.. and i’m shitting you, she of course brags to scrooge, reveals minima as her spy, and offers to RACE him for it shortly after he realizes he has a fake.

The only major flaw in this story is Magica’s overconfdience, which isn’t BAD persay, but here has gotten to dumbass proportions. She just can’t plan for anything and a CHILD has a better plan than her that only dosen’t work for reasons we’ll get to. And that plan is almost ruined by Magica taunting scrooge!

So a race is on but Launchpad has transformed Scrooge’s old Model T into this

Damn that’s cool. Scrooge of course dosen’t like it, but honestly you get what you paid for. Oh that’s right you paid nothing for something you NEED to use every day for transportation. 

At  the rickity thickity bridge, Steve Buschemi’s worst roll and her minion ask Webby to roll with them and Minima mistakes this for betrayal planning to soak them all.. only for Webby to DEFEND HER, pointing out minma’s her friend, how she dresses is fine and she loves her no matter what.. the last part’s implied. The 30-year old asshole and her minon leave Webby and Minma is genuinely touched, as no one’s done that for her before. She put up so many walls... she didn’t realize someone could ACTUALLY care about her, so obessed with thinking she had to be like that soccer mom in preschoolers clothing, she just had to be herself: kinda werid but in that fun adams family way. Webby says she knows Minma would do the same.. so while she prepares to let’s get back to the race. Magica realizes Launchpad’s roadster is actually gaining and spreads some tacks, but Scrooge counters with some money.. because of course he has a lot of money in the trunk. But Magica takes out the bridge and while scrooge awesomely JUMPS IT... he’s still too late. 

As you probably guess though, Minima had a change of heart, and gave Webby the real dime back, and Scrooge confirms it. Minima TRIES to tell Magica, and Magica is horrified her niece is a goody goody “I”ll never hear the end of it at my astral aerobics class”.. I.. I want to see that. Let’s raise those spirit ladies and kick kick that soul, doge that shadow king punch them in the soul. Yes! Now eat it eat it and absorb it’s power!

We end on a button joke as Webby apologizes for taking the dime., Scrooge accepts it and Webby tells them magica learned to carpet and they gulp for some reason. 

Final Thoughts on Dime after Dime: This story was decent. It has problems, some jokes don’t land and Magica is made horribly incompetent, but minima’s character arc is endearing, and Webby herself is precious as always and her winning Minima over feels genuine. And Scrooge is in prime adoring uncle mode with her and i’ts just so cute. And the roadster race is pretty awesome to watch honestly. It’s an exceptional and enjoyable tie in story.. and not the last ducktales 87 story we’ll be covering here. Wink wonk. 

Next Time: Things get DARK as Lena and Webby head into the depths of Scrooge’s hidden bin and Lena heads into the depths of her own soul. 

Tommorow: Woo-Ooo mofos as we go back to the very beginning of the reboot! A family restored, a lost city to explore, and a glomgold rises! Be here or be square. 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Drive By ~ L.P. (Part 1)

A/n: I have a discord I’m part of! I’m gonna add it to every jatp fic I have, so you’ll get updated links as I post or if you just ask because I don’t know how to do permalinks lol. Have fun reading!

Word Count: 5300+

MASTERLIST

"What are you smiling so widely about?" The teasing question came from Luke and was directed at Alex, who had come into the room blushing with a smile wide and bright enough to outshine the artificial lighting.

"Nothing," Alex dismissed, hopping down from the piano he'd manifested on top of. "Willie just answered a lot of questions and now I feel a lot better about what's going on." They'd just gotten done talking about Julie joining the band and how Alex had met a new ghost friend on his walk.

Reggie's eyebrows came together and he reached out, catching Alex's wrist with both of his hands to still the boy. "What's that?" In dark ink, almost like a tattoo, words were set into the base of Alex's wrist. "I didn't know you had a tattoo, and why does it say 'I think you dinged my board'?"

Alex ripped his arm away from Reggie, but the damage had already been done. As Alex looked over at Luke, he could see in the guitarists' eyes what was about to happen. "You found your soulmate?" Luke asked, a slightly bitter tone already in his voice. His nose was scrunched up a little. Not in hate or disgust per say, but edging toward those emotions. Like he was ready for Willie to be a total jerk or hurt Alex.

"Yeah," Alex slowly admitted. Reggie shot Alex an apologetic look but Alex just shook his head. Reggie hadn't done anything wrong. Normally it would even be a good thing, like when Julie had spent hours talking to him about Flynn and how happy she was that Flynn had been her soulmate. Luke wasn't Julie though. Before Luke could go off like he was getting ready to, Alex stood up to his full height, determination setting in his eyes. "And you know what? I'm glad I did. Willie is really great, and it's nothing like they used to say soulmates were. It isn't forced or weird or magically easy. I don't feel addicted to him. It wasn't even like we were flirting with each other or anything. It was really chill and nice, and he was funny and easy going and listened to what I had to say and understood my feelings and helped me. He's a good guy."

Luke was suddenly very interested in his guitar. "I'm happy for you." His tone didn't support his words.

It was hard, because Alex knew that any other time Luke WOULD have been incredibly happy for him. He'd have wanted to know every detail and have hyped him up and been excited and invested in the story like he always was. Luke would have been more than happy to tease and laugh and be so, so very happy for him just like he said. He'd have smiled and hugged Alex, because he knew how hard this had been for Alex. How he'd always thought he'd die without ever really falling in love and then he DID and now despite everything he has answers and a cute boy who's interested in him and a promising relationship waiting to bloom.

But Luke wasn't, and it was all due to the fact that Luke had a soulmate once and swore them off ever since. Sometimes... Sometimes Alex wished Luke had never met Y/n.

-

It had been a good performance, and Luke was tired. He wanted to go back to the studio and burn off the rest of his performance high with lots of snacks and a good movie, right beside his best friends, like they did after every performance. Before that though, they drank lots of water so they could drive home without passing out. It had happened once and Reggie had sprained arm. He'd sat out the next performance and they all made a rule to be more careful about self care so it wouldn't happen again. They would have just canceled the gig but Reggie would have killed them. They did learn however they hated not performing with everyone present, so here they were.

Because they were just performing at a little bar on a slow night, there weren't many people around. They also weren't a big enough band to perform at somewhere they could get a real bad stage, so they all just sat on the bar, sipping on water so they wouldn't hurt their stomachs. Luke had thrown up once and it was another lesson they'd taken to heart.

As the guys were refueling, a girl approached them. Her smile was wide and she took the open seat next to Luke. Alex had been sitting there but he'd gotten up to use the bathroom. "Hi," she greeted. Her cheek rested on her hand and her eyes sparkled.

Bobby was immediately returning a flirty, "Why hello." He'd always been more of a charmer than the others. Luke was a close second, but Bobby did it more often than he did because Luke didn't like what usually happened when you flirted with someone.

The girl ignored Bobby though, turning to the lead singer, who currently far too busy shoving his face full of food to pay attention to her. 'Hey, slow down or you'll get a stomach ache," Reggie reminded.

Luke nodded and then swallowed, breathing for a few seconds before going to take another, smaller bite. He paused when the girl cleared her throat. "Uh, hi," he said hesitantly, only now registering she'd been talking to him. For some reason.

Her smile grew when he greeted her. "You're Luke, right?" She leaned against the counter, draping herself in an odd way.

Despite how much he hated when people did this, he wasn't thick enough to not know when it was happening. He wiped his mouth, offering an awkward smile. "Uh yeah. What's your name?"

"You can call me anything you like," the girl responded evenly. Her bright hair moved fluidly as she twirled it around her finger. She was pretty, Luke could admit that. Her eyes were a bright blue, and her clothes were a nice silver, which went well with her deep tan.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn't interested. "I'd prefer to just call you your name if that's okay with you."

Her eyebrow arched in surprise. She seemed like the type of girl who dealt with people like Bobby or Reggie. People who were into her and didn't often say no when offered the chance. She was attractive, and probably popular. Luke just... didn't want what she did, and what she wanted was getting more clear by the second. Before she could make some comment that would probably make him feel even more awkward, he slipped off the stool and began to move away from his friends, using it as an excuse to dismiss the girl. She only followed after. "Oh come on," she drawled. "You're hot. I'm hot. We'll have lots of fun. I promise I'll be worth your time." She stepped in front of him, stopping his path and hooking her finger into his collar, pulling him closer to her.

Luke felt panic begin to rise. He'd never had someone come onto him this strong before. Usually they backed off pretty quickly after he made it clear he wasn't interested. What could he say to her to make her lose interest that would make sense without offending her? He didn't want to be mean but... he was the last person to sleep around, even after Alex who was gay in a world that hated people like him. A world that demanded him to keep it secret. HE was more sexually active than Luke was. To say, Luke wasn't. "Listen..." he began slowly, feeling his nervousness twist his gut. His friends had told him so many times that it was okay he didn't want to be with people like Reggie and Bobby did, the same way that Alex didn't want to be with girls like that. It was fine. Yet, every time he had to face it in a situation with someone who might not be so forgiving, he felt the weight of the world on his chest. Not all people were like Alex, Bobby, and Reggie.

"Darling, you're breathtaking." The low purr came from a new body. A hand touched Luke's arm with the most gentle pressure, just enough to nudge Luke backward so the new person could pay attention to the girl. All Luke saw was hair and broad shoulders, but he was distracted suddenly by a weird tingling where the person had touched him. A guy, he realized. "I can't believe there's anyone here that can't see how absolutely beautiful you are." The man rose a hand to brush the girl's cheek with a thumb. Her shining eyes turned to him, taking in his charm in gulps. The man's arm moved to go around her shoulders as he tucked her into his side, burying his nose in her hair to leave a little kiss on her forehead. "What do you say we ditch this poor soul who's so obviously blind and have some fun of our own?"

The girl blushed. "Oh definitely."

An odd feeling went through Luke when the guy made eye contact with him and winked. He turned away from the couple as they began to walk away, hurrying back to his seat. He sat down, trying to get the guy's face out of his head. He'd never been exactly blind to how attractive some people were, but usually it was easy to ignore or forget. This guy... his mind was packed with this guy. Everything about him that Luke had seen in those short moments before he'd left. How he'd smiled at Luke with a look that said he knew Luke had been trying to get out of the situation. Almost like a little 'you're welcome'. And if he was honest, he was thankful.

"Hey, what's that?" Reggie grabbed Luke's shoulder, stilling him so he could get a better look.

"What?" Luke looked over, but he could only see the tip of something inked on his shoulder. It was just out of view for him to see any better.

Bobby moved over then, a smirk growing on his face as his eyes widened. "That's a soulmate mark."

There was a tension between the three boys for a second. Everyone knew that soulmates were a huge taboo, but with all the things between them that were taboo, it was kind of thrilling too. Bobby shrugged off his jacket, offering it to Luke. "Probably a good idea," Luke agreed, putting the jacket on and covering the mark. Even if all of them were cool about it, other people might not be. He could get it tattooed over later or something.

-

Three full days and no one had stopped talking about Alex and Willie. Willie seemed really cool and Luke was easing up a bit, but when the conversation turned that way he found himself usually drawing away, focusing on cleaning his guitar or writing more lyrics. Today he was fiddling around with a melody quietly, a pencil in his mouth and his lyric journal on the floor next to him. He absently rose a hand to tug at the collar of his shirt. He'd never really gotten used to how high the collar went, or the feeling of fabric against his shoulders. He had always worn cut off sleeves, but had changed it after...

He felt suddenly ill.

"You know we still have some of your old shirts," Alex comments casually. "Most of them are cut off actually. You could wear one of those instead." He spoke with a soft voice, and Luke looked over to see Julie and Reggie going off about Flynn. Of course Alex wasn't one to call Luke out in front of anyone else, but he'd still had to check just in case.

Luke's eyes fell back to the song he was sort of writing. "No it's fine. The sleeves cover... my shoulder."

Alex didn't have to ask, but there was something in his expression. "You know you don't have to hide it here," the blonde reminded gently. "Julie and I have our marks too, and-"

"I know," Luke cut off. "I just... don't want her to ask about it." His eyes flickered to Julie before moving away again.

This time Alex nodded and let it drop. "What song are you working on?" Luke smiled, appreciating his friend more than ever. Luke didn't get to respond though because Reggie began to come over. He was holding Julie's glass of water, thrilled by the fact that he wasn't dropping it.... He tripped though, spilling the water all over Luke's shirt.

"Crap!" Reggie hissed, his eyes widening with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Luke."

Laughing it off, Luke rolled his eyes as he moved to his feet, putting his guitar down. "It's fine Reg." He pulled out another shirt, pushing down the way he wanted to glare at it as he pulled off the wet shirt to change into the new, dry one.

Julie's eyes went wide. "You have a tattoo?"

Luke suddenly froze. He tossed the wet shirt by his other stuff, forcing himself to move to cover his midrift again. "No, I don't."

Alex made an expression between pained and amused. "Guess there goes keeping Julie from asking," he mumbled quietly.

As if on que, Julie asked, "What is it?"

Now, Luke could have lied. But he hadn't, and he didn't want to. He hated lying, especially to bandmates. "It's a soulmate mark. It appeared the first time my soulmate touched me." He pulled his shirt the rest of the way down, covering the mark. Without even thinking about it, he tugged at the sleeve. He'd never worn sleeves before using them to cover his mark. He'd always passed it off as a tattoo, but when the mark had just turned into a bad reminder, he'd started covering it up for himself.

Julie didn't pick up on the tone of his voice though. He had played it casual, so he didn't blame her, especially as she rushed up to him with shining eyes and a wide smile. "Wait what? You have a soulmate? How come you never told me?"

"Because I HAD a soulmate," Luke answered softly, offering a small smile in response to her enthusiasm. It turned a little bitter when he continued, "I don't. Anymore."

Suddenly Julie looked really guilty. "Luke, I-"

"It's okay," he dismissed quickly. "That's just why I don't usually engage in soulmate conversations." He forced his smile to brighten. "Now, where were we?" Seeing his urgency, the others shared looks before moving the conversation onward. They talked about soulmates around him a lot less after that.

-

Hey, wait!" Luke's eyes had caught the guy that had saved him earlier as he moved through the crowd. Luke picked up his pace, reaching out to catch the guy's arm. Suddenly they were looking at each other straight on. Luke was a little shorter, but he was a little shorter than most people so it wasn't new. "Sorry, I just wanted to thank you for earlier." He felt his body heat up under the stranger's gaze. "I... thought you would have left."

A smile rose to the stranger's face. "I don't exactly require a lot of space to handle business." When Luke drew back, the man ducked his head. "Sorry I didn't mean to be vulgar, I'm just used to people... anyway." He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. Not everyone likes to get attention like that from people, and I have no issue stepping in when it's required." His fingers tapped against his leg, his demeanor a lot different from the flirty, confident front he'd put on earlier. 

Luke swallowed, trying to pull himself together. "Uh... what's your name?"

The guy's shoulders sagged, as if he was disappointed by the question. "Y/n. Yours?"

"Luke," Luke responded. "Listen, I was just wondering-"

"Look," Y/n began, a sudden tiredness coming into his features. "I get that you're not into girls and that's fine, but I've already had sex tonight and I'm really not in the mood to-"

"What?"  Luke's face screwed up in confusion. "I don't want to do that. With anyone, let alone you. I... I'm into girl. And guys. But- I- That's not why I-" His face burned hotter. "Listen." He reached forward, grabbing Y/n's palm. He turned it up, to reveal what he was so hoping would be there. A mark, in the shape of a rose. It looked a lot like a tattoo, just without any color. The details were outlined in black ink - even the thorns on the stems. He felt thrilled when he saw it, angling his body to show the exact same mark on his shoulder. "I know we all grew up on the same stories. But I thought... maybe we could get a drink? Talk? I'm the first one of my friends to get a mark and I'd hate to lose the chance to act on it." He shuffled nervously, ready for rejection.

By the look on Y/n's face, it might be harsher than he wanted to face. Y/n surprised him though with a gentle, "I don't think you want me. I- I know we're soulmates, and this has nothing to do with you being a guy, or the whole weird thing most people have with soulmate bonds. I just... I'm not the best person. People don't usually stick around for long."

There was something in what Y/n said that pulled at Luke. "Maybe I could change that. I'm planning on sticking around for a while. How about you?"

Hope of the kind Luke had never seen before filled Y/n's eyes and Luke was rocked breathless by the sight. "You promise?"

"On my life," Luke swore. "At least give me one date to prove I'm not a total waste of time."

Y/n grinned. "You have one date." Luke pumped his fist and Y/n laughed. "Now what did you have in mind?"

-

Luke plopped next to Julie on the couch, concern already on his face. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, slowly reaching out to rub her arm. Alex was on the other side of her, laying on his chest. The two had gotten really close in all their talk about soulmates but when Alex had shot him a plea for help, Luke had been plenty willing to jump in.

"Yeah," Julie sides, picking up her head. "Flynn and I just got in a fight. It was dumb, I just... Someone made a comment asking about 'my boyfriend' after the performance yesterday. Claiming we were together. They were talking about you." She sighed and Luke felt like he was the worst person to get involved in this, but one look from Alex made him stay where he was. "I told them you weren't my boyfriend, and the conversation moved on. She was a little annoyed that I didn't mention she was my girlfriend, I guess? And then went off about how you're into me or something?" She shook her head.

Luke's eyes went wide. "Wait what?"

"I know!" Julie gushed. "I tried to defend you, because we all know that's kind of just how you are with everyone. I mean people also think you're dating Reggie and that's not true..." Suddenly her head tilted. "Is it?"

Despite the tense feeling of the situation, Luke laughed. "Uh, no." Then he considered it, and tilted his head in thought. "I mean, not that I'd pass up the chance if it came. Just-"

Seeing him struggling, Julie supplied, "Your soulmate?" Luke hesitated before sighing and nodding. "When did you..."

"Not long before the night we died, actually. A month max? Time started to kind of blur  as things got more intense and trying to get over a break up and stuff." He shrugged.

Julie nodded. "That makes sense." She hesitated, but finally asked, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, of course, but... what was she like?"

That made Luke smile. "He."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, really. Uh, I mean it was actually Alex who helped me come to terms with that whole me being attracted to dudes thing." He shook his head. "Anyway-"

Julie chuckled. She calmed, her eyes settling on Luke with a gentle curiosity. "What was he like?"

Immediately Luke remembered a time when things were amazing. When life had seemed truly good since he'd run away from home. "He was... like, a light. In a really dark part of my life, he came to me like sunlight in the morning? You know when the nights really dark and the clouds cover the stars and the moon just isn't enough and then the sun rises and it's almost a relief? It's like that. I had enough before him, but after... It was like everything I needed - everything I'd ever wanted or dreamed about or thought of - it was just right there. A whole person made of my dreams." He got a sort of dreamy smile on his face. "He was always so warm and soft. He used to... trace it." He rose his hand so his fingers ghosted over the mark on his shoulder. "When he did, it sort of tingled. Like this warm sensation that rippled across my skin. It always did that when he touched it. I usually did it more though. I'd hold his hand in my lap and just like stroke the mark. Cause his was on his hand, below his thumb. He used to call me his flower because of it." A bubbly laugh rolled from him and Alex and Reggie looked at each other in surprise. They hadn't seen Luke like this since...

Julie's eyes were very soft. "He sounds amazing."

"He is." Luke's smile suddenly faded, slowly. His fingers grazed the rose again. "He dances like I play music. He was really good at it. All kinds of dancing actually. He used to slow dance with me all the time. Just pulling me close when it was just us and swaying back and forth. He did actual dancing too, but I loved slow dancing with him the most. If he was feeling really restless he would HOARD spray paint and sneak out. The next day we'd wake up with some street art of our band. It's how we did most of our advertising back then. No one could ever pin it on us because we didn't do it, and no one knew me and Y/n were..." Suddenly Julie realized why Luke looked so sad while talking about something that was obviously such a happy time. "I mean, two guys are soulmates in a world where both soulmates and anything nonheteronormative is demonized? I was trying to make a band that was gonna get really popular and do a lot of incredible things and we couldn't even DREAM of being caught together, let alone going public. Girls would still flirt with me all the time, and I got distracted really easily with practices and writing music." He shrugged. "I always thought that soulmates were... different, I guess. I learned my lesson." He stood, putting his guitar down. "I'm done for today. I'll see you guys later." He walked out and Julie almost went after him, but Alex shot her a look.

"Well that went well," Julie mumbled, sitting down again and rubbing her face.

Alex sighed. "About how well it always goes." He shook his head. "But anyway. How about we figure out how to get you back on Flynn's good side?" He winked and Julie managed to actually smile. Luke hadn't had luck with soulmates, but she had. The past was the past. It was time to enjoy the now, until Luke was ready to really talk about it.

-

Luke wasn't sure what he had walked in on, but it was obviously something he wasn't supposed to have. When he opened the garage door, the muffled sounds of an argument trying to be hushed died out immediately and of all people, Reggie and Y/n were the ones who stepped away from each other to break out of whatever heated exchange they'd been having.

Since Y/n and Luke had started... whatever it was they were, Y/n and Reggie had become like best friends. At first Luke had been a little jealous, but at the end of the day he was just glad that his two favorite people had someone when he was busy as he so often was. Bobby and Alex were important to him of course, but Y/n was his soulmate and he and Reggie had known each other the longest. Sometimes he felt like there was a disconnect between him and Alex; the same with Bobby. He and Reggie were always on the same wavelength though. Even when Reggie missed something, he always got the idea or figured it out after a second. He was slower to do so when it came to the others. Y/n was the same way, as if he was just an extension of Luke's body. Rather than an echoed return, it was just one fluid motion. He and Reggie bounced off each other and built; he and Y/n slowly grew together, feeding off a constant wave of energy. Reggie and Y/n were like a game of hot potato, where the potato got hotter each time they threw it. They had that same gaining effect, but not an echo or a constant, just a little bit of energy from each until it was overflowing. The three of them were kind of unstoppable and anytime they could all hang out, it was the most fun any of them had ever had.

That didn't seem to be the case right now.

Y/n snagged his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. "Hey." His voice was strained, and all of his muscles seemed to be tense. He couldn't focus directly on Luke, his eyes constantly drifting to the door. He wanted to book it.

Luke caught Y/n's shoulder, his eyes full of concern. His eyes drifted between the boy trying to run and the one still in the studio, retreating to the furthest corner - seeming just as desperate to escape. "Wait what's happening here?" Luke asked. "You guys never fight." When they didn't answer, he pressed, "Come on, maybe I can help. Friends argue all the time; it's not a good idea to leave on a bad note."

Despite how odd it was, he did not miss at how the two flinched at the word 'friends'.

Finally, someone spoke. "It doesn't matter, dear." Y/n didn't relax, and the small smile he managed onto his face was so forced it was painful to look at. Luke went to argue, but Y/n rose a hand and caressed his cheek and Luke got distracted for a second - just long enough for Y/n to add, "Just some talking between friends." The word came out harder than the others. Friends. Luke was even more confused. "It was stupid to argue about. Some people just have their minds set, and that's it."

Luke's eyebrows came together, eyes moving between Y/n and Reggie. "You know you guys could... tell me, right?"

"Of course," Y/n reassured. "We just..." He sighed. His walls fell and Luke relaxed, knowing whatever was about to come out of his mouth would be genuine. "Can we just not talk about it please? It's something we need to deal with."

That was understandable. Luke could let it go for now.

-

Luke was glad he couldn't dream anymore. It had taken him a while to figure out he could go to sleep. He didn't tire like he used to, and usually any exhaustion he felt faded pretty quickly if he just sat down and relaxed for a few minutes. He had been nervous the first time he'd fallen into what he now considered sleep, and had woken up pretty quickly. But then he realized he'd been out for half an hour and he hadn't had any dreams. Not like when he had when he was alive.

Y/n wasn't in his dreams now that he was dead.

If he was being honest though, in the very back of his brain, he did miss it. He missed going to sleep knowing that he would be lulled all night by imaginary arms, dreaming of a life he yearned for. A life he missed. A relationship he so regretted losing.

Without the dreams, he started to imagine. Just out of nowhere, if he wasn't engaged in something important, he might just sort of... zone out. And he would think. Think about what things used to be like when Y/n was still around. What life might have been like if Luke had been better. Just, in general. They'd never even called each other boyfriends. The title had never been used, and Luke knew it was because their relationship didn't deserve that. They cuddled sometimes and kissed sometimes and knew each other well, but Y/n had never been Luke's first priority. Of course his music was important but...

The night they'd... broken up? No, that was for people who dated. It was more of just a parting of ways. They'd argued and then Y/n had walked out and like an idiot, Luke had let him. He hadn't gone after Y/n, or tried to fix it after. He'd just lost himself in music and the thrill of being so close to fame and victory. It hadn’t been until he was dead and had realized he’d missed twenty-five YEARS that he even thought about Y/n again.

And now he couldn’t STOP thinking about Y/n. How wonderful and special their time together had been and how much Luke absolutely didn’t deserve it. How he had ruined everything and just let it be ruined. He had been too ashamed to go looking for Y/n because he knew it would only bring him pain. Seeing him with someone else - or even worse, still alone - it would kill him. Again.

What really sucked is that Luke was back to exactly where he’d been when he was alive, after Y/n had left. He was distracting himself with music and work and shutting everyone else out and refusing to talk about it or acknowledge it or anything, and WANTING to go back and fix it but being far, far too terrified to. The result was that Y/n was just always on his mind, more prominent than ever, because now he had so much more guilt. So much more pain, watching all his friends be happy and in love. It was all so much harder to ignore.

Maybe that was why he saw Y/n across the street as they stood outside Bobby’s house, Julie telling them off for going after Bobby and holding onto the past when there was so much in the present to focus on.

Luke suddenly couldn’t hear a single thing Julie was saying.

He stepped past her, eyes wide and heart racing. He had forgotten how beautiful Y/n was. Maybe it was a weird word to use for a guy but... GOD it fit.

The weird thing was that Y/n wasn’t a day older than the last time Luke had seen him. So for a second he thought that maybe he was just imagining it. But the longer he looked, the more clear Y/n became. He wasn’t looking at Luke. His eyes were focused on Bobby’s house, anger twisting his features. And then someone passed him, a woman and her child, and they walked right through Y/n and the small child, a little girl, jumped, eyes wide as Y/n seemed to become clear to her. She dropped her toy and Y/n ran to pick it up and hand it back to her, a soft smile on his face. She took it back with a look of awe and then hugged her little toy close, a huge smile on her face.

She said something to her mom and Luke didn’t know how but he HEARD it.

“Mommy! Mommy! The angel helped me!”

Luke took another step forward. “Y/n?” He only whispered it. He was sure the others hadn’t even heard it, let alone Y/n from all that distance away. But he looked anyway, as if answering to his name, and his and Luke’s eyes locked.

Behind him, someone gasped and someone else shouted in a voice flooded with concern.

Then Y/n disappeared, and with him, Luke felt his heart shatter all over again.

[svtkillua]

milk and tea > 6 (final)

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 3k

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1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 [final]

Waiting was something you used to think you were good at. You used to believe that you were fantastic at ignoring the clock and letting the hours tick by, thought that if you could handle the months of longing for Todoroki, there was nothing you couldn’t be patient for. You’d been wrong, however, completely incorrect that you were anything even remotely close to stoical. Because sitting there on the couch of your apartment, staring at the front door waiting for Todoroki to come back from his last tattoo removal appointment, you’d never felt more impatient in your entire life. Every creek of a floorboard or honk of a horn outside sent your heart racing, your skin crawling with nerves every time you glanced at your phone and another minute had passed. 

You hadn’t seen him all week, not since the night after you’d been at his and Momo’s home, when you’d gone with him to his parent’s place. You could still picture the look on his face in the car ride over, could still feel the way he gripped your hand tighter than he ever had before, to the point where you could feel his pulse pounding beneath his flesh. He’d confronted them as soon as the pair of you were inside, ignoring the disapproving looks you got for being so physical, facing his demons head on even though it broke his heart completely in half. 

They had denied it at first, insisted that they would never do such a thing as cover his mark, even going as far as accusing you of making things up, saying you had been putting lies into his head so he’d leave his soulmate for you. The remark stung, but nothing had hurt as much as watching Todoroki crumble apart when they finally fessed up, the look on his face one that would haunt you for the rest of your life. It was almost like a tiny part of him had been hoping he really was wrong, that maybe this was all some other weird freak soulmate mix up and that his parents hadn’t actually sabotaged the happiness he was supposed to have in life. 

He’d yelled, screamed, cried until his lungs were burned to ash and his face turned beat red, a vase broken on the floor when he swore that he’d never forgive them for doing this to him. You’d never seen him so upset, never witnessed someone more broken than you had that night, curled up on your bed with his head on your chest as he sobbed until all the water was gone from his body. He’d been there when you both woke up, still curled up in bed, his fingers tangled into your own as he pressed aimless kisses along your cheek and collarbone, like he was trying to calm himself down, quiet sniffles carried over from the night before. 

That was when he told you he needed a few days to process things, and as much as it broke your heart to think about being away from him anymore, you understood why he needed some space.

Everything about his life had come unraveled so quickly, things he’d wanted but never dreamed of being given to him were delivered in the worst manner possible. Things he thought were true and unbreakable were proven to be lies that easily shattered, everything he knew now brand new, like a map he had no idea how to navigate. He found out the girl he never quite loved right wasn’t made for him, discovered that his parents arranged a marriage for him and covered up a part of himself that was supposed to lead him to true happiness. He got to kiss and hold you, but also had to let you go, only to find out maybe he was supposed to be with you all along. But until the mark was gone from his hand he wouldn’t know for sure what fate had been hidden from him his entire life. 

He kept insisting it wouldn’t matter if it matched yours or not, promising that his heart belonged to you no matter what. It didn’t ease the worry in your heart, however. 

Because the universe had been awful to you before, had dangled hope in front of your face only for it to be ripped away and replaced with that hollow feeling you’d grown familiar with. You loathed it, you never wanted to feel it again, not after starting to get to memorize the way it felt to finally be full, to have Todoroki there next to you keeping your heart from wandering too far from his own. You had gotten close enough to hold him now and you never wanted to let go, the mere idea of his mark matching someone else yet again was enough to have you anxiously digging your nails into your palms. 

You didn’t think you could handle watching him fall in love with someone else, especially when this time you knew it would stick, that with whomever his soulmark matched would be who he stuck with for the rest of his life. Of course he loved you now, but if you didn’t match, that love would fade and be given to them, whoever it was, that was lucky enough to have the same beautiful tattoo as Todoroki. 

And damn it did you want it to be you. 

That gold mark on your palm didn’t seem as bad when you pictured it living on Todoroki’s skin, the pigment reminding you of the warmth that seemed to pump out of his chest naturally. You could see the beauty in it when you imagined it being the same as his, didn’t want to vomit just looking at it when it was attached to the way you felt when you were around him. It didn’t seem as daunting when you reminded yourself that maybe it would allow you to be with the one person you’d ever loved like this, the one person who ever seemed to love you back. 

You’d talked to Todoroki every night over the past week, listened to his voice as he rambled in your eardrum about how much he missed you, his light laughter now and then little indicators that he was slowly but surely starting to accept how things were. The thought brought you comfort, even if you were desperate to be able to see him, that he was going to be okay one way or the other. He hadn’t mentioned until yesterday that he had a few appointments with a specialist to get his dark blue tattoo removed over the past week, letting you know that this morning would be the final one. 

He promised he hadn’t seen it yet, that the doctor insisted he keep it covered until it was finished healing properly. He wanted to look, you could tell from how whiny he sounded when you made him swear to tell you if it didn’t match right away, able to detect that he was just as impatient as you were. 

“I’ll come over right after the appointment.” He’d promised, his voice full of vague excitement you wanted to feel yourself, eager to see him but scared of what you would both do depending on the outcome. “No matter what, it’s gonna be okay.” 

You wanted to believe him. 

The jiggle of the doorknob made your spine lock up, knees aching when you forced them to unbend, standing just as the sound of keys stopped, the wood pushing open. You sucked in a breathe when you saw him, his head down as he tried to shove his spare key into the front pocket of his jeans, his hair draped in front of his eyes, his jean jacket draped across his broad shoulders. It made your throat tighten, eyes trailing to his hand, which was wrapped in a bandage spanning from his fingertips to his wrist, only his thumb poking out, curiosity spiking when he finally lifted his head and looked at you. 

“Todoroki.” You nearly melted seeing the way his lips lifted slightly once you saw each other, his free hand raising to rake through his hair, shutting the door with his foot. You were moving before you could stop yourself, body barreling closer to his, eyes squeezing shut as your chest molded into his strong embrace, his arm not hesitating to wrap around your waist like a boa constrictor. He felt familiar, warm, like your home you never wanted to leave, like your lighthouse in the middle of a stormy night. He felt like everything, like the sun and the moon and every star in the universe, like the one thing that you had ever wanted to memorize every detail of so you could replay its beauty forever inside your head. 

“I missed you so much.” His muttered words made your grip on him tighten, the heavy exhale he puffed out making the hair on top of your head ruffle, his fingertips pressing into your hip. He leaned back enough to ghost his lips against your forehead when you looked up at him, lungs shrinking when his eyes bored into your own. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he paused, his bandaged hand resting against your lower back as the both of you stayed pressed together, like you were the other’s anchor keeping them from drifting. “I swear I couldn’t sleep all night because I knew I’d get to see you in a few hours.” 

The smile that fought its way onto the curve of your mouth made his features relax only slightly, the muscles in his neck tense when you lifted a hand up enough to let your fingers brush along the back of it, assuming it was because he was as anxious as you were. How couldn’t he be, with everything happening in such a short amount of time? 

“How was your appointment?”

“Good.” 

“Did you see it yet?” Your voice lifted just slightly, lips pressing into a thin line to try and hide the nerves that were filling you up to your brim. 

“No.” His head shook before he even answered, taking a step back to lift his hand up between the two of you, the bandages seeming paper thin the longer you stared at them. They were the only thing left standing between the both of you and the future of your relationship, the one barrier stopping you from finally being together, but also the one wall defending you both from getting let down once again. “I wanted us to see it together.” 

Your head bobbed as you swallowed, stomach full of nerves that felt like stinging wasps, lips pursing as you exhaled all the air from your body in an attempt to calm down. It was useless, really, because your brain was going a mile a minute working out the possibilities, heart near ripping at the seams the second you let a finger brush against the start of the bandage resting right in the middle of his palm. Your pulse felt too strong, your eyes burning with the worry that was bubbling up your esophagus, lashes fluttering closed as your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. 

“Hey.” His whisper made your eyes open, hand raising and cupping your cheek, keeping your head angled towards him. The way he stared at you made it feel like the world had slowed down, gaze dancing across his features to take in every single inch. Even with the way the edges of your vision were blurred from unshed emotions you could see how breathtaking he was. “I love you, no matter what. Remember? We’re going to be okay, regardless of what’s under this bandage. Okay?” 

Your quiet sniffle was accompanied by a small nod as he leaned down enough to mold his forehead into your own, noses brushing as his lips ghosted against yours, not enough to be considered a kiss, more like you were just breathing him in. His proximity brought your nerves down slightly, his grip on you staying tight as you blindly started to unwind the cloth from around his palm, your gazes glued together as his bottom lip shook, his heartbeat palpable against your cheek from the contact of his palm there. 

It felt like everything had been leading to this, like from that first moment in the park the both of you had been meant to end up here, in your apartment, with your fragile hearts on the line, that pigment on Todoroki’s palm the deciding factor on what would happen now. It was all so heavy, like the walls were closing in on you, like you were wrapped in a comforter but far too tightly, to the point where it was near suffocating. Every emotion imaginable was dancing through your veins, good and bad, happy and dreadful, hopeful and lost, every single way a human could feel but all bundled up into a jumbled mess that was crushing you. 

The bandage slipped from your fingers as it finished unravelling, falling to a mess on the floor neither of you bothered reaching for. Todoroki’s fingers flexed when your own skimmed against his wrist, his vision boring into your own as he tried to look less anxious than he felt, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down his heart that had made a home in his throat. With a nod from you, he mimicked the action, the both of you pausing for a beat longer before you looked away from each other, like you were remembering what being close felt like incase it was the last time you’d get to be. 

With a deep breathe you slowly dipped your head down, his palm coming into view, resting between your bodies while facing up towards the ceiling. 

And there, going from the base of his hand straight up to the tip of his middle finger, was the most beautiful strip of gold you’d ever seen. 

There on his hand was your soulmark, the one you thought matched no one, the one that made you upset and angry and bitter and so full of disdain for so long. The one that made you despise yourself at times, that made you question why you were the way you were, why no one was supposed to want you, why you had to be alone. That stupid gold line that you’d almost hated for so long now made your heart burst, a sob slipping from your lips as your hand raised and covered your mouth as you tried to muffle the sounds falling out of you, eyes blurring with an onslaught of tears because you’d found it. 

You’d finally found your soulmate. 

And it was Todoroki. 

He pulled you back into his chest as he sniffled, arms enveloping you as his nose buried against the side of your neck, your eyes squeezing shut as you gripped him as tightly as you could, your bodies swaying as your back shook from the crying, his lips pressing into your collarbone over and over again. It was everything you’d ever wanted, for his mark to match yours, for your heart to have someone to hold onto, for you to be able to love someone with all of you. He was everything you could have ever dreamed of and you’d known your heart belonged to him from the day you met. 

And finally, after so long, after so much pain and struggling and longing, he got to be yours too. 

“I love you so much.” His hands raised to cup your cheeks, his lips melting into yours repeatedly, in languid, lazy kisses, ones with so little effort but so much emotion lingering behind them. Every one felt like a bandaid being placed over the wounds the world had inflicted on you both, slowly undoing the damage that the circumstances you’d been in had done to you, healing the pain in your bones until all you felt was each other. You never felt something as perfect as the way it felt to be his. “So damn much.” 

“I love you too.” The words were muffled against his lips as he lingered closer to you, your fingers combing through his hair as his grip abandoned your face to instead grip the backs of your thighs, pulling your body closer, raising onto the tips of your toes with a gentle laugh against his mouth. His lips pulled into a smile against yours, your skin feeling hot as he abandoned the kiss to instead pepper them along your cheeks, nose and forehead, ending with one on each eyelid as they drifted shut. “I always have.” 

“I knew it was you.” He whispered, his eyes swimming with the things he was finally allowed to feel, his head shaking as your lips made gentle contact with the curve on the corner of his mouth. “From that first day in the part, from the moment I saw you, I knew. I knew that I was made for you and no one else. It’s always been you, you’re it for me. You’re a part of me, and you always will be now. We don’t have to fight it anymore.” 

You sniffled as your lashes fluttered, eyes opening so you could peek up at him as the light peered from the window and painted his cheek, his thumb brushing against your damp bottom lip as his grin spread. You’d never seen anything in your life more beautiful than the pure happiness oozing off his features, feeling content knowing that even if the world had tried to break him he still was greatful it ended him up there with you. That even though he felt like he’d lost it all, he’d gained something better, someone better for him, someone who loved him with every single cell in their body. Someone who would be with him until the end and would love him even longer after that. 

And that someone, was you.

-

[previous chapter]

a/n: and there it is! the finale!! i hoped you all enjoyed this spur of the moment christmas/holiday gift from me to you <3 since this is being posted on christmas night, i hope you all enjoyed your day to the fullest and filled up on a bunch of delicious foods and got/shared all the gifts you wanted! -aikigai

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- Chapter 24- An Obitine Story

Lunch was served in the main hall, but Satine did not attend. Instead, she sent Korkie, Khaami, Parna, and Hera in her place. Parna had returned with multiple copies of the audio, which were hidden all over the palace. Tristan and Tyra were engaged in espionage activities, so Satine ate her lunch in silence and then slept. Her night up with the twins had suddenly hit her and in the moment she could barely keep her eyes open.

“Your Grace?”

The Duchess groaned.

“Please, Lady Mother,” Tyra whispered, “I have news from the Council.”

Satine rolled over to find Khaami and Parna preparing a new outfit.

“What-”

“Almost dinner,” Tyra pulled her mother up, “and we have much to discuss.”

The Duchess was wearing one of her favorite gowns, the one she wore to meet Padme all those years ago when she was Queen of Naboo. It was blue and purple ombre with the Mandalorian star system embroidered on it.

“You look glorious, Lady Mother.” Tyra clapped.

Satine snorted, “Thank you, darling, but this girdle feels less than glorious.”

Parna laughed.

Khaami raised an eyebrow but couldn’t stop herself from smiling, “The news, Tyra.”

“Right,” Satine noticed her daughter was already dressed, “there was an ancient Sith who is believed to hide a powerful relic here, they say it’s on Concordia.”

The Duchess huffed.

“There’s more,” Tyra frowned sympathetically, “the Jedi believe he wanted to frame you for the creation of Death Watch to turn the people against you.”

Satine shook her head, “I hate those same old tricks.”

“Finally,” Tyra continued, “Mara and Boba have captured a couple criminals and are holding them in the cellar.”

The Duchess’ eyes went wide, “All this happened while I was asleep?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Khaami answered, fastening a ring of pearls around the Duchess’ neck, “Tristan is currently dressed as a regular servant and has been delivering the Count’s necessities.”

“Oh, poor Tristan.” Satine frowned.

“He’s doing well,” Parna assured, “we hope he’ll overhear something.”

Satine nodded, picking up her pearl-drop tiara.

“I want to see these vagrants before lunch,” she turned to Tyra, “please take me.”

The dungeon was a place Satine rarely was, and the last time had been because she was betrayed once again, so she was not looking forward to it. Fortunately, Mara and Boba clearly didn’t feel the same way.

“Mara,” Tyra gasped at the scene before them, “what is this!”

Sheepish, Mara extracted herself from Boba’s grip, “Hi, Tyra.”

“We’re dating,” Boba grinned, giving the Duchess a polite nod, “took Mara long enough.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, Tyra squealed.

“The criminals?” the Duchess prodded.

“Yes,” Mara blushed, “I’ll take you, Tyra must have special duties to attend to.”

Tyra turned to her mother, who nodded.

“We shall discuss this, Mara.” Tyra warned, wagging her finger before leaving.

Boba gave Mara a look, and she giggled.

“The criminals?” Satine asked again.

“Down the hall,” Mara pointed, “we’ll take you.”

As they approached the cells, Boba warned them not to get too close to the shields, but when Satine saw who was in jail, she took a step closer.

“Viceroy Gunray?”

The man’s head snapped up.

“Duchess Satine,” his voice made her skin curdle, “there clearly has been a mistake.”

“Certainly,” the Duchess agreed, “you were most certainly not invited, unless of course, you happen to be allied with the Separatists and are here to stir up trouble among the Mandalorian people?”

“I assure you, Your Grace-”

“Are you aware of what I am accusing you of, Viceroy,” Satine asked, a harsh edge to her voice, “will you answer my questions?”

Gunray sneered, “The Mandalorians are a peaceful people.”

“But we do not take kindly to nefarious acts that brew discord in our system,” Satine countered, “you can be sure Mandalore’s heritage is still dear to many of us.”

“You would not risk war.” the Viceroy stated.

“With who,” Satine questioned, “the Trading Federation? You have no army of your own.”

“No,” Gunray narrowed his eyes, “but Count Dooku-”

“Is courting me,” the Duchess interjected, “so, you see, I have nothing to lose if you’re threatening me with people whom I curry favor.”

Boba Fett cracked his knuckles.

The Viceroy frowned, “You can’t keep me here.”

“I can keep you as long as I want,” Satine raised an eyebrow, “but if you are friendly with the Separatists, perhaps you would like to explain that to the Republic Senate?”

“You couldn’t-”

Satine pressed her comm and a small form of Padme appeared.

“Senator Amidala?”

Padme turned.

“I hate to bother you, Padme, you do look quite busy,” Satine began, “but Viceroy Gunray has been sneaking around Mandalore on the word and protection of Separatists, and I think you’d like to talk to him.”

Padme frowned and turned to face the Viceroy, “Yes, I most certainly would, although perhaps this should be done with more Senators present.”

The Duchess nodded, “I will schedule a meeting.”

Satine turned to Mara and nodded, she curtsied and went off.

“Friends with criminals,” Gunray observed, “your reputation clearly needs revisiting, Duchess.”

“Apparently,” Satine countered, “so does yours.”

With that, she beckoned to Boba Fett and left.

“Any other important ones?” Satine asked.

“A few,” the bounty Hunter nodded, “your guards and I will question them.”

“Thank you,” the Duchess nodded, “and do look after Mara for me.”

Boba Fett’s eyes narrowed, “She has a pin, you know, with your house colors on it.”

Satine only nodded.

“I work with your sister-in-law,” Boba added, “she’d love to meet you.”

The Duchess smirked, “Tell her to learn some manners first.”

Parna met Satine at the entrance to the dungeons.

“The meeting is scheduled,” she stated, bending to clean off the Duchess’ dress, “and the Count is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Parna.”

“Also,” the lady stood and lowered her voice, “the Jedi are sending an expedition team to Concordia.”

“Thank you,” the Duchess repeated, “I shall keep that in mind.”

Satine met the Count at the breakfast table, her full retinue already there to entertain him.

“Ah, Duchess,” Dooku smiled, “you look lovely.”

“Your Excellency is most kind,” Satine replied coolly.

The Count raised an eyebrow, “Still tired I imagine?”

It took everything Satine had in her not to reveal what she knew of his deceit.

“You make for a very trying guest, Your Excellency.”

A couple noblewomen around the table laughed. At that moment, Tyra and Hera entered, bearing platters of traditional Mandalorian cuisine along with other servants. Dooku’s eyes lingered on Tyra too long for her liking.

“I don’t believe I’ve met these ladies.” the Count observed.

“My maids,” Satine gestured, “Tyra and Hera.”

Both curtsied.

“So young.” Dooku added.

“Certainly you wouldn’t object to training the young early?” Satine asked, bitterness in her tone.

Count Dooku smiled, “I most certainly would not.”

And so, breakfast began. The older Countesses, Bralor, Eldar, and Saxon, made a point of judging Dooku openly.

“And what makes you think you are worthy of Mandalore, Your Excellency.” Countess Saxon had the audacity to ask.

Satine grinned.

The Count shrugged, “An ancient empire needs a modern one to ally with.”

Ursa Wren ground her teeth. Currently, she wasn’t talking to Satine since Sabine had been discovered as a spy and sent to a special school for rebellious children. The Duchess wasn’t pleased with the Count’s answer either, however, and decided to go on the offensive.

“At least the Republic’s army is alive.”

“Yes,” Dooku smirked into his soup, “alive.”

Satine made a mental note to ask Obi-Wan about that statement.

“I didn’t know you were friendly with the Master Jedi.”

The Duchess practically growled, “It is impolite to intrude on personal boundaries, Count, I suppose as you weren’t born nobility you wouldn’t know that.”

Dooku’s frown set deeper.

“Yara,” Satine smiled politely, “what do you think of my new sister-in-law?”

Countess Eldar grinned, “I should’ve known you’d heard.”

The Duchess gave a pleasant giggle, “Oh, I hear everything.”

“I think it’s quite like your sister to match herself like that.” Ursa commented.

“Very true,” Satine turned to the Count, “tell me of your former apprentice, Your Excellency, do you think we should invite her and my sister to court?”

Now it was the Count’s turn to grind his teeth, “I think that decision is best left up to Your Grace.”

Satine nodded, pretending like she didn’t already know this.

Lunch was finished, and the Duchess invited the Count on a stroll through the gardens, he accepted.

“Parna, Khaami,” she announced, “you will trail us.”

Satine made a point to focus on specifically Mandalorian details of the garden, then, seemingly out of nowhere, asked if it would be seen as a traditional alignment to support enemies of the Jedi.

Dooku actually smiled, “I think many would view it that way, yes.”

“But my people must choose,” Satine’s face darkened, “Padme and I agreed on that.”

“You did, did you?” the Count tilted his head.

Satine nodded, hoping he couldn’t hear her heartbeat. Was that a force user power?

“Well, I suppose you can be friends,” he sighed, “until we marry.”

“You presume to know me.” Satine snapped.

“I know you don’t care for me.”

The Duchess turned to look at the Count.

“Our union, however,” Dooku began, carefully choosing his words, “would be very beneficial.”

“You seem to think so.”

Count Dooku grabbed Satine’s arm, “I’ve seen them, no one has to know about your bastards that smell like Master Kenobi.”

The Duchess froze, her limbs cold.

“Ah yes, I know.”

Satine began to shake.

“Marry me and no one will know.” the Count offered.

“I’ll play my part,” Satine told Dooku, gritting her teeth, “but expect a long courtship.”

Count Dooku left early, he said it was business. It did, however, kiss Satine’s cheek upon departing, which caused quite the stir on Mandalore. Now, it was evening.

“He seems awful.” Korkie mused as the Duchess and her children waited.

“Terribly,” Mara agreed, “but he knows about our father.”

As she said this, Satine noticed a ship wading through the dark sky.

“What do you know, Tristan?” the Duchess asked, sensing his unease.

“Many of my classmates are slightly horrified, or aggressive.”

“He will have to prove himself ‘worthy of Mandalore’.” Tyra added.

The ship got closer, and Satine told Mara and Tristan to wait in her personal parlor. 

“Lady Mother,” Korkie whispered, “I’m worried for you.”

“So am I.” Tyra agreed.

“Thank you, children,” Satine squeezed her children’s hands, “I appreciate your concern.”

Master Aayla Secura got off the ship and Satine counted herself surprised, then Ahsoka disembarked and the Duchess was put at ease.

“I wasn’t aware I would be having such distinguished guests.” Satine told Master Secura.

“After such a famous visitor you mean?” the Jedi questioned.

“I’m just glad he’s gone.” Satine replied honestly.

“Hey, Kork, whaddup?”

“The sky, Ahsoka,” Korkie smirked, “not that you would know that.”

The Padawan feigned offense, “Dear me, what a burn.”

Tyra snorted.

“Padawan Tyra,” Master Secura nodded, “you have been very helpful.”

“Wow really? That’s a first!”

Master Secura smirked, “I hope the Duchess appreciated your enthusiasm.”

“This Padawan is certainly a handful.”

“Master Vos would agree.”

Satine gave Obi-Wan a smile resplendent of the sun.

“And did he tell you as such?”

“I know her well enough.”

Aayla cleared her throat.

“Korkie, Tyra,” Satine turned, “be a good host and show our guests to their rooms.”

The Duchess watched happily as her children moved through the palace with ease, and she grinned to herself.

“Dead!”

Satine jumped. Out of the shadows slithered Asajj Ventress, with Bo-Katan behind her. The Duchess frowned.

“Interesting,” Ventress grinned, “I didn’t know you were Mrs. Kenobi.”

The Duchess opened her mouth to defend herself.

“Everybody knows now, Satine,” Bo-Katan waved dismissively, “after a moment like that I’m surprised there aren’t riots.”

Trying to suppress her blush, the Duchess asked if they planned to stay.

“We didn’t get a chance to capture the Count,” Ventress frowned, “he left early.”

“There was no time to-”

Ventress reached out and shoved Satine, who stumbled backwards onto the pavement.

“Excuses are useless with me,” the witch warned, “do not use them.”

Shocked, Satine remained on the floor.

“Get up, sister,” Bo-Katan huffed, “you look like a fish.”

“Satine!”

Suddenly, Obi-Wan was beside her.

“How-”

Reaching out with the force, Obi-Wan threw Ventress into a mass of sculpted hedges.

“Are you well, darling?” the Jedi asked, picking her up.

“Ben,” Satine blushed, “how heroic.”

“Ugh,” Bo-Katan spat on the ground, “spare me.”

“Your manners have worsened, Obi-Wan.” Ventress called.

“They may have,” Obi-Wan admitted, “but I thought matrilineal cultures praised women who just gave birth.”

A beat of silence.

“Satine,” Bo-Katan sighed, “no.”

“You’ll never see them, Bo,” Satine promised, “they won’t bother you.”

Ventress smirked, “A family man, Obi-Wan, how interesting.”

“I could say the same about you,” the Jedi countered, “you’re married.”

Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow, “And you’re not?”

Satine looked down and blushed.

“Oh, sister,” Bo-Katan clapped, “you have bastards!”

“That’s not true,” Satine huffed, face still red, “my children are royalty.”

“How many children do you have?” Ventress asked after a pause.

Satine bit her lip.

“Six.” Obi-Wan answered.

Ventress’ jaw dropped.

“Oh, Satine,” Bo-Katan whined, “I thought you were better than that.”

The Duchess was about to answer when Tristan called down from above.

“The Jedi are asking for you, Lady Mother!”

Bo-Katan blanched, “Is that Tristan Wren?”

“I’ll be right up, Tristan!” Satine called.

Ventress clicked her tongue and shook her head.

Satine fluttered her eyelashes, “Carry me, Obi?”

“Of course, my angel.”

Bo-Katan groaned, but Satine paid her sister no mind. Instead, she squealed and grabbed onto Obi-Wan as he jumped impossibly high and landed on Satine’s balcony.

“Wow, Dad,” Mara snorted, “be more chivalrous will you?”

“That’s a big word, Mara.” Tristan teased.

“I learned it from Lady Mother’s library.” 

Obi-Wan placed Satine down.

“Ben, this is Tristan, and this is Mara,” she gestured, “our second set of twins.”

The Jedi’s eyes glowed as he hugged both his children.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Sixteen now,” Tristan answered, “and I’m older than Mara.”

Mara huffed.

“Your Grace,” Jaym’s voice accompanied a knock, “the Jedi are asking for you.”

“I’ll be right out.” Satine promised.

The Duchess turned to her children.

“Behave yourselves.”

The twins looked at each other, then giggled. After an exaggerated sigh, Satine left to find Master Secura and Ahsoka.

The Padawan saw her first, “Momdalore!”

Satine smiled, “You all asked to see me.”

Master Secura shot Ahsoka a look.

“Remember your manners, Padawan.” Aayla frowned.

Ahsoka grinned, “Of course, Master Secura.”

“Duchess,” the Jedi Master turned, “we’re here to search for spyware or anything the Count might’ve left behind.”

“I’ll take you to where his quarters were,” Satine gestured, “although I don’t know what you’ll find.”

Satine sent Tyra and Korkie to her personal parlor while she allowed Aayla and Ahsoka to search. 

“Be polite to your father.” the Duchess whispered.

Tyra winked.

“Momdalore,” Ahsoka piped up, crawling on the floor, “why didn’t you let Death Watch capture Count Dooku?”

“He left early,” Satine responded, “there was no time to warn my sister and have it not be suspicious.”

“He kissed your cheek.” Aayla pointed out.

“I was there,” Satine nodded, “I remember.”

Ahsoka snorted.

“Duchess Satine,�� Master Secura, sighed, “the Council needs your assistance with a secret.”

The Duchess raised an eyebrow.

“Master Anakin Skywalker is married to Senator Padme Amidala.”

Satine laughed, she certainly wasn’t expecting to hear that. Even Ahsoka joined in.

“You knew?”

The Duchess hesitated, “Yes.”

“Your Grace,” Master Secura frowned, “this is a great offense against the Jedi code.”

“Senator Amidala is my friend, Master Jedi.” Satine countered.

Aayla nodded, “I understand, but I tell you this to warn you.”

The Duchess frowned, “Warm me?”

“Master Kenobi wants to leave the Jedi Order after the war,” Master Secura stated, “he confessed it was because he loved you.”

Ahsoka gasped, Satine had forgotten she was there. In a burst of emotion, the Duchess collapsed onto a chaise lounge with a sob and let tears of joy roll down her face.

“Oh, Momdalore,”  Ahsoka stroked Satine’s head, “it’s alright.”

“Are you pleased?”

Trying to collect herself, Satine nodded.

“I advise Your Grace to be careful then,” Master Secura’s face softened, “it seems you’ve already picked your side.”

“Thank you,” Satine dabbed at her eyes, “Master Jedi.”

“Please,” the Jedi helped her up, “call me Aayla.”

Satine thanked Aayla and excused herself, when she arrived in her personal parlor, her children and their father were happily chatting, exchanging jokes and funny stories. Satine paused for a moment to admire the beauty of the scene, it was really all she’d ever wanted.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan smiled, “come in.”

The Duchess tripped as she made her way to Obi-Wan, who caught her in his arms.

“I knew you loved me.”

“If six children didn’t tell you that,” Satine grinned, lifting her head, “I don’t know what will.”

Obi-Wan scooped up the Duchess and placed her in his lap.

“Now, tell me children-”

At that moment, Bo-Katan and Ventress appeared on the balcony. Obi-Wan growled, Satine put a hand to his chest to hush him. Bo-Katan gaped.

“Wow, Obi-Wan,” Ventress remarked, “you have quite a large amount of offspring, but there only seems to be four of six.”

Bo-Katan recovered her senses, “Satine, are you out of your mind!”

“Bo-”

“A Jedi,” her sister asked, “I mean, I knew you hated tradition, but really?”

“Bo-”

“I’m not done,” Bo-Katan announced, “what would our parents say?”

“To be fair,” Obi-Wan interjected, “your parents were the ones who requested Jedi protection all those years ago.”

Bo-Katan blinked, “Oh, as if that’s an excuse.”

“I didn’t know the Duke of Sundari was yours though, Obi-Wan,” Ventress grinned, “a real fan of monarchies are you?”

Satine flinched.

“You lied,” Bo-Katan frowned, “you created a false brother and sullied our father’s name to hide your own transgressions, you lied?”

“Bo,” Satine held up her hands, “I can explain.”

“What is there to explain-”

“Bo-”

The door burst open and Gorg ran in with Jaym. Satine clamored out of her Jedi’s arms.

“Escort them out,” Satine ordered.

Bo-Katan snarled, “We’re not done here.”

Mara stood, “How dare you speak to my mother like that.”

Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow.

“It’s awfully rude of you.” Tyra agreed, assuming a fighting stance.

Ventress tensed.

“The Duchess of Mandalore should be treated with respect.” Tristan added.

Bo-Katan turned to Korkie.

“I’m sorry, Auntie Bo,” he stood, “but what my Lady Mother did was right.”

At this time, Ahsoka and Aayla appeared in the doorway with Jaym,

“Ventress,” Obi-Wan stood, hands out, “I suggest you follow the Duchess’ orders.”

Bo-Katan was fuming.

“Come on, Babe,” Ventress growled, “we should teach these self entitled brats a lesson.”

“It’s a foolish fight,” Bo-Katan glared at Satine, “you can’t fight someone who cheats, we’ll get them later.”

“Bo,” the Duchess begged, “you will get a chance to capture him.”

“You lie.” her sister spat.

“No,” Ventress stated, everyone paused, “he’s proposed to you.”

Obi-Wan turned to her, Satine swallowed. 

“I’ve accepted.”

Pandemonium erupted. Bo-Katan lunged at Satine, but Tyra threw her out of the way. Ventress then ignited her lightsaber, but so did Obi-Wan.

“What is this?”

Satine, who had stumbled backward, stood to face Master Secura.

“There is much to discuss,” the Duchess stated, “but my sister and her wife decided to pay us a visit.”

Ventress snarled.

“We were just leaving,” Bo-Katan announced, “tell us when the wedding is.”

[honeytea8]

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

.

.

.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

.

.

.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

.

.

.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

[rrasado]

THe mfing sequal

|Which One is At Fault?|

@mintystale, discord peeps, y’all want a sequal? I’ll give y’all a sequal. @sourpterodactyl,thank you for the idea so know what’s coming for you.

———————————————————————

“Hm, from what I recall the scarabia students found a place with rare breed of mushrooms near the gate of ramshackle dorm”

“Oya, near your gates you say? I’ll have Floyd look into it, who knows what purpose those scarabia students have in mind”

“Oh of course Jade-senpai do as you wish”

“I caught wind of a certain new store at the nearby square, apperantly the books there are from all sorts of origins”

“Hm...you think they’d have one from my world?”

He spun her around to the melody of the cello as they connected hands again in a matter of seconds.

“Who knows? I can have someone accompany you in case my information is wrong. We don’t want our guest of honor to disappear because of my miscalculation now do we?”

“Oh haha very funny senpai, just give me the location and I’ll go there with Ace and Deuce”

“You know, I think someone else is willing to accompany you”

“It’s fine I don’t want to-“

“Look subtly behind you...”

The amused smirk on the teal haired 2nd year’s face was able to convince the prefect to do so as she carefully glanced over her shoulder.

“...Why the hell is the takoyaki bastard hunched over the bar?”

“Hmm well, you could say his pride is not cooperating with him”

And with that the waltz like rhythm came to a halt as the two of them bowed for the final courtesy.

The prefect straightened her back once again, catching a glimpse of jade snickering ever so subtly at whatever was behind her.

“F-Floyd I’m telling you stop these nonsense-“

“Blah blah you talk too much for someone who doesn’t wanna say anything to our guest of honor ne Azul~”

“Damn you two-“

The infamous silver haired dormhead accidentally lost his balance almost crashing into the prefect that had the decency to move, letting said dormhead hit the table behind her.

“Now that’s a graceful entrance you don’t see everyday”

“Shut it prefect as if you’re graceful yourself”

“Did I ever say such thing?”

“Your implying it-“

“Ahem”

The banter would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for the tweel’s interruption. Floyd went ahead and helped the dormhead up on his feet, immediately patting off the dust from his attire for the night. Now she thought of it, he wasn’t wearing his usual grey overcoat and dorm uniform.

“Well if you three have nothing else to discuss with me then I’ll take my lea-“

“Ne shrimpy~ hold on a minute! You haven’t even tried the blueberry cheesecake yet~”

“Floyd Senpai I’ve been here for 50 minutes and I see no cheesecake in sight-“

“That’s because azul will give you a slice after he tells you something~ right Azul~?”

The prefect side eyed the...wait is he avoiding eye contact? Nani da fu-

“Oya, Yes prefect, Azul indeed has something to say to you”

“And what would that be? I already left the budget planning to him like he so desperately wanted-“

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

Azul gripped the hem of his overcoat as he stared directly at the unphased prefect.

“I-I...I well, I’m sorry...”

“For someone so proud speaking, I didn’t here a single thing-“

“I’m sorry!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Pfft-“ “HEY I’M BEING GENUINE-“

“Oya Oya prefect~ compose yourself would you, your sadism is showi-“

“I-I’m sorry senpai it’s just-HAha I’d never thought I’d see the bastard actually apologize-“

The prefect couldn’t even finish her sentence as she full on laughed at what she deemed amusing while the octo merfolf merely pushed his fedora down to hide the growing blush of embarrassment on his face.

“H-hey are you ok bastard?”

Azul only pushed his hat farther down as he can feel the blood rushing to his head, trying to avoid any possible eye contact with the girl in front of him.

“...I’m apologizing to the person I’d usually fight and disagree with, only to have her laugh at my sincerity, how do you think I feel.?”

“Pfft- peachy I guess”

The prefect wiped a tear from her laugh fest as she carefully reached for the tip of the dormhead’s hat, raising it ever so softly to look him in the eye.

“Look, I honestly don’t know why your apologizing right now...but I’ll accept your so called sincerity for tonight, since I did let you purposely hit that table earlier-“

“That left a bruise-”

“Yeah I can tell from the thud thank you very much.”

The prefect, still holding his fedora gently raised it higher to fully see his expression.

“Tell you what, if you give me that slice of blueberry cheeskcake right now, I’ll wholeheartedly forgive you and accept your so called ‘apology’.”

Azul’s eyes scanned the prefect’s features, there was no sign of her usual hostile expression he was so used to greet at meetings, only a neutral facade, brow raised waiting for his answer.

“Alright, Floyd did promise you that when he invited you-“

“Ne~ but your the one who’s told me to tell her-“

“S-She doesn’t need to know the details!”

“Alright that’s enough you two, our guest of honor is obviously waiting”

At that point the octo merfolk didn’t notice the prefect completely removing his staple attire as she gripped the fedora in her hands.

“I’m keeping this until I get my end of the bargain”

Azul immediately reached to touch the top of his head, eyes widening as he realized some strands of his hair were untamed.

“Tsk fine...”

The prefect, out of instinct reached for his hair and gently flattened it for him.

“Oya?” “Ne~?”

“You remind me of grim sometimes, that cat’s fur is so hard to tame it’s starting to piss me off”

Without even noticing the alludance of his hair to the grey beast, Azul stiffened at her touch but slowly eased soon after.

“Ne Jade~ wasn’t the last girl to touch Azu’s hair was his own mother?”

“Your indeed correct Floyd, it seems even the infamous prefect has her soft side.”

“Y’know I can here you two clearly from here?”

The prefect, still holding his hat, grabbed the dormhead by the arm and strutted towards to one of the tables...

...Not noticing how dazed he was in the process..and how the tweels are snickering in the background as they watch their friend be taken aback by a magicless girl.

———————————————————————-

[xxscarletxrosexx]

Close

Synopsis:

Unbeknown to Marinette, Max recommends a thriller, horror game to help bridge Marinette's and Adrien's relationship closer. After all, a little stress wouldn't kill anyone. (ML x Phasmophobia) 

FF | Ao3 | Wattpad | DA || Or read below ^^

References:

(c) Miraculous: The Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir belongs to Thomas Astruc Zag Toons (c) Phasmophobia belongs to Kinetic Games (c) Why Did I Agree to Do This at 2 AM? - Phasmophobia (1)  (c) In the name of fanfic research... - Phasmophobia (2) 

A/N: It’s been 6 years since I last wrote a fanfic.

"Say Marinette," a short mocha-skin boy with square-framed glasses turned his attention from his laptop's screen and faced a teenage girl with ultramarine pigtails, "I've got a game recommendation for you and Adrien to play together."

"Me and Adrien?!" she stammered with the mention of the model's name ending with a higher octave. "I mean-" she said rather quickly in an attempt to regain composure, "Game! I mean what game d-did you have in mind?"

Restraining his own amusement from further embarrassing the teenager from her obvious crush-attack, Max Kanté continued, "There's a popular game currently blowing up in the gaming community called Phasmophobia. Have you heard of it?"

Marinette responded by shaking her head from side to side.

"That's perfect. Well, make sure you download the game before your next da-game night with Adrien," Max had quickly adjusted his phrase as soon as he caught glimpse of said blond model approaching them. "I think you two will have an amazing time working together and solving problems."

"Wait... "Marinette contemplated, "What kind of game needs me to pair up with Adrien? Can't I do it with you?"

"Hey Marinette! Hey Max!'' the young model greeted, which then resulted in Marinette flailing her hands in the air and falling backward. Much to Marinette's chagrin and embarrassment, Adrien had reflexively caught her with ease. "You alright, Marinette?" Adrien asked concerned.

Marinette squealed as she jumped back whilst shrieking, "I'm alright! Just being clumsy as usual! Hahaha!"

Adrien shot her an affectionate gaze and replied, "Glad to see you're alright though." Then turning his attention to the notorious gamer in their class, "what was this about a game about tag-teaming, Max? I hope I didn't come in at an awkward time."

"Not at all," Max responded whilst adjusting his glasses with his index finger pressed on the bridge of his frames. "I was just telling Marinette that you should both play Phasmophobia on your next game night."

"Phasmophobia?" Adrien pondered," I haven't heard of that game before."

"The game is relatively new and is as popular as Among Us," the gamer replied," But I heard it's easy to get immersed into the game."

"Immersive?" The statement had piqued Marinette's interest, "Sounds like an interesting game!"

"I think so too!" Adrien agreed wholeheartedly, "Let's play it tonight, Marinette!"

"What?" the ultramarine pigtail was taken aback. Adrien had responded to her surprise by wearing the same reserved smile accompanied by an arched brow. "I, uh... I mean it's not that I don't like you, Adrien, I like you! I-uh, I mean I like you like a good friend. I'm just- I'm just surprised to hear... you'll play with me tonight..." Marinette's shpeal was as sporadic as her personality around the young model beginning with clumsy phrases then explosive and fast-spoken, then tapering off to a flustered whisper.

"My plans were canceled today. My photographer caught a cold and asked Nathalie to reschedule."

"Oooh!" Marinette chuckled nervously, "That's great! I mean-uh-it's not great that your photographer fell ill, but it's great that you can finally have more time for yourself!"

"Yeah!" the model agreed. "Although I feel bad for my photographer, I can't wait to try out this new game tonight."

"By the way you guys, for the best experience, please do the following: play only at night, turn off Push to Talk under the PC Settings, always test your audio under the Audio section, and wear headphones before you start the game."

Both the model and aspiring designer mirrored serious and contemplative expressions whilst staring at the ground. The sight before the young genius was nothing short of comical. He understood then why Alya and Nino got a good kick teasing these two.

Marinette had mouthed the list until she had reached the third step and had closed her mouth abruptly. Meanwhile, Adrien had one hand resting against his hip while his other hand had his thumb and index knuckle had cupped his chin while he stared at the ground as if he were recalling a script. Then, with sudden and synchronous timing, the duo's expressions snapped back to look at the young gamer. Marinette had been the one to break the silence, "Could you repeat that to us one more time?''

"I'll send you two detailed instructions on Discord, just make sure you hit Play and ignore Training."

• • •

"Okay, so according to Max, the first step would be to take care of the setup," Marinette stated in a private call with Adrien. To her embarrassment and respecting her crush's wishes, Marinette and Adrien had decided to keep their videos on in process of setting up and familiarizing themselves with the game."

"Headphones. Check. Nighttime. Check." Adrien read the list aloud, "All that's left now is running the game.

"Right,'" Marinette agreed, "while you run the game, I'll read the other instructions for us!"

"Perfect."

"Once you begin the game, use your mouse to turn the direction of your player and move with the WASD keys."

"Woah," Adrien stared with amazement as soon as he was loaded into the game. He was greeted with a howling wind, a chorus of crickets, and a male's voice-it was low and muffled with a familiar quality similar to ones heard from a radio station-stating, "Welcome back! I've got some jobs ready for you!" He began to move his mouse and did what all typical players did at the beginning of each session and began to drag his mouse side to side which resulted in a whiplashing blur of graphics to take place across his screen and proceeded to say, "Woaaaahhh!"

"Is everything alright, Adrien?" the confused teenage girl asked, voice thick with concern.

"No, it's nothing," Adrien answered embarrassedly. He couldn't believe he had done that. Adrien felt the black kwami's emerald eyes staring judgingly at him, but he dared not meet his gaze. Instead, the blond teenager had slid his hand onto his lap in hopes to prevent himself from behaving dorkily and wore a nervous smile. He had almost forgotten that he was in a video call with Marinette and glimpsed at his second monitor where he saw a confused expression etched on Marinette's face. Thank God… It seems she saw nothing.

"Alright," her answer was stressed but had reluctantly moved on to the task much to his relief. "So after we're in the game, Max had mentioned finding the board, which is located to the left of the character, and click the board."

Gliding his hand over his mouse once more, Adrien guided his character to turn to the board and do as instructed. Upon clicking the whiteboard, the same radio-muffled voice greeted him, "Looks like there are others out there in need of help."

"Okay. I've done it, Marinette. What's next?"

"Complete the following: select Options then click on Audio and click Test found next to Voice Recognition. Read the text aloud. If the text states it can hear you then you can move on. Note: this audio should already be presetted with your PC."

"Say Give us a sign. Oh! That's cool, the bottom text says We heard you, "Adrien reported back.

"Give us a sign?" Marinette asked curiously, "I wonder why this game needs voice recognition."

"It probably has a puzzle that needs us to talk in order to solve it," the model surmised, "This is so awesome! I have never played a puzzle game where we needed to talk before."

"It definitely a unique feature," the aspiring designer agreed. "Okay, next, click PC Settings, scroll down, and click Local Push to Talk to: Off."

"Okay."

"When you're finished, click back and return to the main board screen and click Play. Have you or Adrien create a private room by selecting Create Private while the other selects Join Private. The host will find the mute code on the top-right screen. Click the eye image to reveal the code. The host will give the code to the other player after they select Join Game. Have the host Select a Job and press Select, have each player click Ready Up, and have the host select Start to begin the game."

"Sounds easy enough. I'll set up the room while you finish doing all of the tasks," Adrien proposed. "Do you think Edgefield Street House sounds like a good place?"

"Sure! Sounds like a good plan," Mariette chirped, "Do you mind guiding me on the steps as well?"

"No problem."

• • •

"Our room code is 240833," Adrien announced.

"Our room," Marinette sighed infatuatedly.

"Yes, our room code, Marinette," Adrien smiled sweetly to her.

"R-right," Marinette stammered. She forgot Adrien could still see her, but she wouldn't be able to see his face and expressions... If only I had a second monitor… "Since it's both of our first time playing the game, I guess this is where we click Ready Up then start the game," Marinette continued.

"Awesome. Now, this is the part where we mute ourselves on Discord. We should be able to hear each other with the game's audio," the young model added and proceeded to mute himself on Discord.

"Right," Marinette followed suit by minimizing her game followed by selecting the mic button. Catching a glimpse of her partner, Marinette smiled at him. Surprisingly Adrien had caught glimpse of Marinette's smile and exchanged a smile and a wave. To Marinette's horror, a scream of embarrassment had lodged itself in her throat and her smile became a tense line that hid back her flustered expression. All she could do was wave faster and giggle painfully awkwardly and nervously until she had clicked the game to become full screen once again. Smooth, Marinette, she grimaced internally while forcing a calm expression on her face as to not freak out her crush from her freaking out over her raging emotions from being around him. She had forgotten that Adrien had a second monitor. Be cool, Marinette. It's just Adrien. It's just Adrien. It's just- "Adrien?" she said aloud.

"Oh, hey Marinette!" Adrien called back. "Now that that takes care of the immersion checklist and completing all of Max's tasks. Let's start the ga-"

"Wait!" Marinette interrupted, "I think we should write down some notes about the game's hotkeys."

"Great idea! Max was really considerate about completing that task for us. I wonder why he had gone ahead and gave us these keys rather than letting us play the Training section."

"He said something about it being a solo-trip and being time-consuming," Marinette recalled as she scribbled down the hotkeys on a sticky note and placed it on the bottom frame of her monitor. "Ready?"

"Just about..." Adrien answered as he scribbled the last instructions,"... and done. Ready to start?"

"Yup!"

"And we're in."

Both Adrien and Marinette waited patiently as the loading screen loaded up to 100%. Below the loading statement, the duo read the provided hint: Don't stay in the dark too long.

"Don't stay in the dark too long?" Adrien read aloud, "I wonder what that means."

"Maybe our characters will lose sanity if we stayed in the dark too long! Sounds like there'll be some puzzles that will need to be completed under a time limit," Marinette speculated.

"Wow this game just sounds interesting by the minute," the model exclaimed, unable to withhold his excitement.

Marinette giggled concurringly, "It sure does."

The first things that greeted Marinette and Adrien after loading into the game were a bright clock with a design of black and white halved horizontally. In the bottom was a dark frame that contained what seems to be an American round monument with several pillars upholding a dome-No. Upon further observation, an American car-a Hudson Sedan perhaps-was made out due to the window, silver framework, and the two headlights. The dark background made it quite difficult to notice the outline had the individual lacked sharp eyes and attention to details, but Marinette was not one of them. Her sharp attention to detail also made out two indiscernible, dark checkered flags poking out of the ends of the vehicle's framework. Above it, a Route 66 plate is found off the right end while a large Garage text occupied the other half. Below it contained two smaller and incomprehensible texts positioned off the right and hiding behind the clock's hands.

A packaged brown box was found on the right shelf with exquisite details including a gray tape, a white stamp address with a bard code, an arrow pointing upwards, and a text below the arrow stating, This side up.

"Amazing," Marinette blurted admiringly, "this game has so much attention to details."

"You bet," Adrien agreed as he observed the objects about the room. Then a distant, muffled sound of the same fuzzy, male voice, that had greeted the duo at the launch of the game, had gained the pair's attention. It was then a computer, stationed at one end of their location, had caught both Adrien and Marinette's attention and the two proceeded to approach it. While doing so, they noticed not only the male's voice growing stronger and more coherent, but also how unsettlingly loud their characters' footsteps were with each movement.

"… and get set up before investigating. And remember to check the whiteboard for help. There've been reports of violence on site. Please be careful."

"Violence?" Adrien repeated. "You think there'll be an encounter with a villain?"

"Sounds like it," the Marinette answered, "I guess the developers wanted not just variety but also to increase the game's difficulty."

"I always love a fun challenge," the model stated eagerly, his voice drenched with baited excitement, "I'll keep you safe while you work on the puzzles, Marinette."

A warm blush gently blanketed the freckles of the young designer's face. She smiled bashfully and stared at her screen, grateful that she could not see his expression as she uttered, affectionately. "Thank you, Adrien."

"Anytime."

Directing her attention to the sticky note resting on her monitor, Marinette began guiding both she and Adrien into familiarizing themselves with the hotkeys of the game. "Now according to the notes, it seems that we can squat with C."

Adrien then began to squat and move his perspective elsewhere. The action resulted in an inhumane and unnatural human position in which Adrien's character had his upper body lying completely back as if it were lying on an invisible table whereas his lower half remained squatting. Marinette found herself unable to hold back her laughter from the inhumane contortion.

"What's so funny?" Adrien smiled.

"You should see how you look right now! Wait, let me show you!" Marinette proceeded to mirror Adrien's action and had almost immediately heard the model's laughter.

"What with this position!? Is this even humanely possible?!" Adrien cackled.

"Right!?" Marinette agreed as she wiped a tear from her eye."

"I guess we figured out one solution to prevent intruders from completing our tasks. Let's just hope that they feel weirded out and leave us alone."

"You're funny, Adrien!" Marinette complimented, "It's a nice guess, but I doubt that the moderators thought of this as a possible defense option." The ultramarine teenager then proceeded with playing around with the hotkeys. She turned to a book and brought the small circle cursor to hover over it and clicked the E key. "Oh! It seems I picked up a book..." Marinette's character waved it about, much to Adrien's amusement, and couldn't resist snickering when he saw his teammate's wonky gestures as she shook the book up and down in that inhumane arch and unnatural, half laid back extension. Marinette couldn't help but giggle due to his contagious snickering. "Alright, Adrien," a laugh made its way into her statement, "What would you do with this book if you were told hold one?"

"Probably to write notes or evidence," the blond teenager surmised amusingly. "I'm pretty sure waving your book in your manner won't win you some game points."

Marinette laughed, "You're not wrong. But it would be nice to figure out how to use the pencil somehow."

It was then Adrien's turn to pick up an object and turn to Marinette.

"Nice! You found a camera."

"I wonder if we use this for taking pictures of the evidence. How do I-" the sound of a shutter is heard as he took a picture of Marinette holding the book. "Nevermind. But it looks like I got myself a sus squatter in this shot."

"Make sure to remember the squatter's face when it's time for questioning," Marinette laughed. "But say... Don't we have a limited amount of pictures?" Marinette's character returned to her upright position.

"Uh... I think I noticed the 5 change into a 4," Adrien mumbled nervously, his mirth fading, "Sorry, Marinette."

"I think we can still work with 4 pictures. You can hold on to the camera, I'll pick up a flashlight and... whatever this is..." She finds what appeared to be a walkie-talkie and holds it up to her teammate.

"What is it?"

"Uhh... I think it's some type of walkie talkie."

"Try right-clicking it."

The sound of static immediately floods their entire room and startled Marinette with a shriek," Ah!" She immediately right-clicked once again to turn off the object.

"That must be the voice box."

"The voice box?" The teenage girl repeated, "what are we supposed to do with this? Record voice memos?"

"Not sure, but Max said it'll be useful to have. So while you have the notebook and the voice box, I'll carry the camera and EMF reader."

"What's that?"

"Looks like a remote, but it should be able to react in certain places," Adrien read Max's notes aloud.

"Ugh," Marinette groaned, "I feel a little overwhelmed with all of these gadgets."

"Don't worry, Marinette, give yourself some time and I'm sure that you'll get the hang of it." Adrien watched as Marinette's tense expression relaxed and softened from their video call.

"Thank you, Adrien." Marinette felt so lucky to have Adrian as her gaming buddy. She hoped that he could see how safe he made her feel. "Okay, is there anything else we need to do?"

"According to Max's note, it said that we need to read the board, have each of us carry three items where one of them must be a flashlight for each of us, and to use the key when we're both ready to enter the house. Left-click on the door and move your cursor to open the door," Adrien concluded reading.

"Did Max happen to describe which of these two rods are the flashlight?"

"Hang on..." Adrien paused as he rolled his mouse to find the keywords, "Here we go. They should be the long ones. The short ones are the UV lights that detect fingerprints."

"Fingerprints!? That's so cool! I can't believe this game has this level of detective skills and gadgets! This reminds me of our class project when- " Marinette's words trailed when a flashback of how she and Adrien had almost shared a kiss until Chloe had barged in and interrupted them.

"I remember! It was that time when Mylène was akumatized into Horrificator, right?" Adrien recalled excitedly.

Marinette nodded and giggled nervously. She wondered if he thought about that moment as well. Her cheeks had suddenly felt warm.

"I'm sure you'll be a great detective in this game, Marinette," the green-eyed model encouraged.

"Thanks, Adrien," Marinette smiled warmly. She breathed in a deep, lungful of air and exhaled. Then rolling her shoulders back and cracking the tension from her neck, Marinette began to hype herself, "Okay, I got this. I got this!"

"We've got this," Adrien agreed.

Marinette felt her heart was about to burst. She was sure that if she saw his face, she would've been in an even bigger mess. "So..." she giggled nervously to shake off her flustered emotions. "Anything else Max advised?"

"When your flashlight blinks, find the nearest room and close the door. Listen to the door click to confirm it is closed and stay away from the door."

"I'm surprised this game has a chasing function. I thought we were just looking for clues," Marinette commented.

"Maybe the developers wanted to increase the challenge. After all, looking for clues sounds like an easy task, solving puzzles in the dark could become an easy task over time, and since there are two of us, having one of us fight off an intruder may even be easy," the model theorized and recounted.

"I can see that," the pig-tailed teenager agreed, "Any more comments from Max?"

"Nope, he just said G-L-H-F."

"Sounds like we're ready to go."

"Yup. I'll read the whiteboard first, so you go on ahead and wait by the door."

"Got it!" Marinette began to walk to one end of the truck, where the monitor stayed then back to the opposite end. "Uh, Adrien, how do I get out again?"

"Oh, right. You have to left-click the number pad on the wall to your left."

"Alright!" Marinette clicked the number pad as instructed and heard a mechanical grumble almost immediately. She noticed the door began to move and lower itself downwards to create a ramp. "See you in a bit."

As soon as Marinette had stepped outside of the vehicle, Marinette no longer heard the humming of the fluorescent light but the light wind and soft crickets. The sounds produced in the game were accurate to evenings when she strolled outside her or patrolled the streets of Paris. She couldn't help but say, "Wow." She continued her stroll and walked to the door whilst fumbling and flickering with the light as she waited for her partner.

• • •

Adrien had taken note of how distant Marinette's clear voice had faded away due to their proximity and found himself agreeing with Marinette's distant, "Wow." He couldn't help himself and grin before turning his attention back to the whiteboard:

Objective 1: Discover what type of Ghost we are dealing with. Objective 2: Get a ghost to walk through salt. Objective 3: Cleanse the area near the Ghost using smudge sticks. Objective 4: find evidence of paranormal with an EMF reader.

I've done some more investigating for you. Looks like the ghost's name is John Garcia. This ghost also seems to respond to everyone. You should be able to use its name to anger it and get some paranormal activity. Make sure to refer to your Journal and write any evidence you find.

"Oh no..." Adrien sighed aloud, then remembering that Marinette could possibly hear his voice, he had dropped his voice a few decibels, "Marinette's going to hate this when she finds out..."

• • •

"Oh no..."

Marinette's ears perked to Adrien's soft and muffled voice. She couldn't make out what words had followed after and she found herself moving walking back to the vehicle and stopped midway to get his attention. "Adrien? What's wrong?" Marinette's voice grew stronger as she neared him. "Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

"I.. uh..." Adrien hesitated. He recalled how much Marinette had disliked horror-themed films and displayed fear when they had snuck into the movie months ago. He wasn't sure how much more freaked out she would be if she found out what they were playing. "I'll tell you when I come over there.''

"Okay..." Marinette replied, giving him the benefit of doubt. She returned to her post in front of the door and waited for her partner.

Marinette probably hadn't realized the game was a ghost hunting excavation. As much as he would have loved to not tell her and witness her reactions firsthand, he recalled their trip to the Musée Grévin and his small prank on her. "It's probably better to just stay honest, "he muttered to himself as he walked to meet Marinette by the door.

"I think you should let her figure it out once you're both in the house," a mischievous black kitten-like kwami interjected.

"Shh!" Adrien gestured and hissed out. Then pushing the microphone from his cheek further from his lips, the model added, "That's a terrible idea, Plagg."

"I think it'd be a hilarious memory."

"Of course not."

"Did you say something, Adrien," Marinette's voice sounded similar to the male NPC's voice accompanied by white static. "I can't really hear what you're saying."

"It's nothing, I was just thinking out loud. I'll be there in a sec."

"Take all the time you need."

"Not another word," Adrien whispered to his mischievous kwami.

Plagg stuck his tongue out cheekily and returned to hugging and devouring small pieces of his Camembert. He knew better than to give Adrien's identity away to the current Ladybug miraculous owner, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun from time to time.

• • •

"What was it that you wanted to tell me?" the curious blue-bell-eyed teenager asked.

"Well... to be honest with you, I think you're not going to enjoy much of this game," Adrien began. "I kind of realized that this game is a ghost-hunting game."

Marinette's actions came to a halt and blinked once, then twice. "I-I'm not sure if I heard you correctly, Adrien. But correct me if I'm wrong... Did you say g-ghost hunting?" Marinette stammered. She felt the words ghost hunting plummet in her stomach.

"Yeah, and I remembered that you mentioned not being a fan of anything horror-related films. So I can't imagine you enjoying yourself playing a horror-themed game. I understand if you feel uncomfortable, so you're welcome to quit if you want."

Marinette sat with trepidations and weighed her feeling next to Adrien. First, she felt herself melt when Adrien had not only taken notice of what Marinette had disliked, but he had also remembered them. These acknowledgments were enough to motivate her to play the game. Second, she recalled how excited Adrien had sounded as they continued exploring the game prior to learning that the game was a horror-themed video game. She would not forgive herself if she had backed out and left Adrien feeling disappointed that he had to back out because of her. The final motivation had been the amount of effort that the two had already invested to become familiarized with the game and its hotkey settings. Marinette was genuinely afraid but... Adrien did genuinely sound excited since earlier that day. Swallowing her fear, Marinette answered." No, it's fine. We're already here so we might as well..."

"Are you sure, Marinette?'' The boy's voice was drenched with concern.

"I-I-It's not bad to give something a chance at least once!" Marinette raised two thumbs and mustered the best smile she could wear without giving away her anxiety.

Adrien had considered that Marinette may have been pushing herself for his sake. "But Marinette-"

"I-I want to give this game a chance rather than hide behind saying no," the ultramarine teenager insisted, mustering the confidence and conviction to play this game. "I won't know until I try, right?"

Adrien sighed, touched by her obvious efforts to be brave for his sake. He felt truly moved by her kind gesture. "Okay, just know that I'm here with you, Marinette. I'll be next to you every step of the way."

Hearing his comforting words made Marinette feel like her stomach housed millions of butterflies. "Please don't leave me, Adrien." Marinette was shocked by her own words.

"I won't," she heard his gentle voice reply. Then turning to the door, Adrien asked once more, "Ready?"

Adrien heard Marinette take a sharp deep breath and exhaled.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The door to the Edgefield Street House had opened silently, but one step into the home had sent all of Marinette's butterflies to swarm in the most unpleasant and uncomfortable places. Another step into the house, Marinette wondered if her character's footsteps had always been obnoxiously loud.

Author's Note:

It has been 6 long years since I've picked up a pencil and spent endless days writing a story. I'm pretty proud of the results! Writing this was pretty spontaneous, since my partner, our friends, and I have been playing Phasmophobia for quite some time now! :3

This lil fic is going to be a two-shot, and I apologize since this story was supposed to be released 5 days ago, but the problem for the long edit was due to being unhappy with what I wrote. I ended up re-writing some of the details during my editing progress. The final part of this fic will be following a similar process and may take a couple days to a week to complete. I hope you guys are understanding and patient, the process is quite long ;'(

To give you a quick overview, I love handwriting my stories since the very beginning of publishing my fanfics. Typing from my paper to the computer had always been a lengthy process, but now I have a tablet where it can change my handwriting to text (amazing right?!) and then I can send this text file to my email. The process after that is to copy/paste to OneNote where I can easily focus on reading and editing my work. Oftentimes, my first draft (writing) misses some details and I have a tendency to add more details during the reading and editing process.

That being said, I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this little fun fic! I truly enjoyed writing this and visualizing Marinette and Adrien being in a video call on Discord and guiding each other with the technical functions of the game. While writing the scene where the game had loaded the characters in the van, I actually got scared when thunder struck during the process of collecting all of the NPC quotes from the tutorial game. I actually decided not to let Marinette and Adrien do the tutorial scene because of my first-hand experience playing in the tutorial... my boyfriend told me to play the tutorial scene and I'd like to share that I was petrified beyond words. I have actually live-streamed myself playing Phasmophobia and my fanfiction will be significantly referencing it. If you would like to see my references and enjoy a good laugh the video is titled Why Did I Agree to Do This at 2 AM?- Phasmophobia (1) by Hannybunnns.

For the second part of the fic, I have already filmed a second video where I had actually played at the Edgefield Street House... solo-player. I had hinted at some events that I will mention in the next fic so if you guys are interested to see a glimpse of what part 2 will be having, the video to look for is In the name of fanfic research... - Phasmophobia (2) by Hannybunnns.

I will be working on part 2 and possibly a sequel including our favorite duo's besties in the future playing this game! Let me know what you guys think and I'll answer future comments/questions in the next author's note.

[roggenmuhme]

Strawberry Colada

The Pearls x Reader Summary: You get drunk and your unsuspecting gem girlfriends have to deal with it. There's always a first time for everything, right? [A series of short one-shots/Human Antics series] Wordcount: 2.3k

I hope this whole collection isn’t too ‘out there’ for you to enjoy, a lovely person on discord had this prompt idea and it … just took over. I legit couldn’t stop thinking about this, so here goes nothing. So far I have Jasper, Bismuth and the Diamonds planned; if you have any input/ideas, I’d be glad to hear them! (But I can't promise anything, some characters are incredibly hard for me to write unfortunately) As always, feel free to contact me for anything really - imbutahumblefarmer#5583 on discord! Also tumblr is being weird with the format again - can also be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864869/chapters/57363457

Warning: Detailed descriptions of nausea, along with the more uncomfortable feelings of being drunk. Be careful, please (no vomiting)

Dedicated to that one time I fell asleep cuddling a clorox bottle. The hot, humid air around you quickly became overwhelming as you pushed past a couple standing irritatingly close to the exit. Your hand clenched around your smartphone, the only thing grounding your upset stomach right now. You definitely had had one shot too many with your friends an hour earlier and the wild dancing afterwards didn’t help either. As you fought to keep the bile down, you swore off Jägermeister for at least a month. Pushing open the heavy, black door, you greedily breathed in the cold air. It felt almost as good as the ice-cold glass of water you had downed minutes ago, a desperate attempt to keep the nausea at bay. Stumbling away from the entrance, you hastily looked around, searching for any sign of your girlfriends. You had texted them fifteen minutes back, when it became obvious to you that you had to end the night early, too sick to continue. They had answered in seconds, you knew how vigilantly Pink Pearl watched her phone (she had been enamored with the device ever since she got it, because it meant constant and fast communication with you) and now all you had to do was wait for them. Easier said than done, in your drunken stupor all of your thoughts flew to your gut, you knew you had to keep moving or else its contents would soon find another home on the streets - and you hated vomiting.

Pacing around in front of the dimly lit club entrance, the dulled bass soon blended into the background and seconds turned into hours. You cursed yourself for being so careless with alcohol this time, falling victim to the peer pressure of your friends. In the end, it was your fault for accepting too many drinks and you knew tomorrow wouldn’t be fun. But right now, you had different problems on your hand. Just as you were about to check your messages once more, someone yelled out your name as if it wasn’t two in the morning and they hadn’t seen you just hours ago. Quick steps followed and soon an enthusiastic Pink hugged you from behind, her arms digging into your stomach. As much as you wanted to appreciate the sweet gesture, you nearly expelled  your hearty dinner in that moment. “H-hey”, you croaked, slowly turning your head to meet a loving gaze. “C-could you let me go?” In an instant her arms were gone and she appeared next to you, a sweet smile on her face. “Hey!” You tried to reciprocate her grin, but it looked rather pained. Somebody pointedly cleared their throat behind you and you didn’t have to turn around to know who the culprit was. Although you were slightly compromised right now, you still made a show out of turning around slowly, clearly trying to annoy Yellow Pearl. When you finally faced both Blue and Yellow, the latter rolled her eyes at your antics, but you knew she didn’t really mean it. Blue Pearl promptly rushed over to you to greet you with a gentle hug, her voice nearly too quiet to be picked up by your abused ears. “I’m so glad you want to go home so early.” You forgot your upset stomach for a moment as you patted her back, melting into her touch. It was adorable how they all missed you the instant your back was out of the door, even grouchy Yellow. Said gem brought you back to reality with a snide comment, one hand touching her chin. “You look absolutely disheveled, what have you been doing?”, she leaned in to inspect you closer, only to recoil in horror. “Stars, you reek!”, her tone was seriously offended, her face scrunched up as she blinked rapidly. “Oh...”, was all you could muster, suddenly aware of you unkempt your whole presence was. A wave of nausea forced the thought into the background, a hand flying to your mouth as your cheeks comically puffed out. “Oh no”, Blue put a hand on your shoulder, as did Pink. With two concerned pearls to either side of you, you only managed to blurt out a ‘let’s go’, hoping you’d make it to your apartment without any accidents. As you tried to power-walk your way back home, the alcohol hit you once again, making you stagger with each step. Blue and Pink stabilized you with a surprisingly firm grip (sometimes you forgot how strong they could be despite of their slender builds) while Yellow took the lead, arms crossed behind her back, throwing you a glance every couple of minutes.The silence was overbearing and your mind too focused on that dreadful feeling in your gut. You couldn't take it any longer.

"Please…", you huffed out. "Tell me something. Talk to me."

Next to you, Pink piped up, her voice excited. "Blue and I made a batch of your favorite cookies!"

An image of said cookies flashed through your head and your stomach turned at the thought. As much as you loved a homemade batch, food was the least appealing thing you could imagine right now.

You made the most disgraceful gurgling sound. "About anything else, please? No food, I beg of you…", you heaved out.

Pink let out a surprised noise, seemingly at loss for words. Even in your inebriated state you could feel the guilt creeping up, they had no clue what you were going through (not that you could explain it right now, anyway) and were just trying to help you. “Ugh”, you tried talking through a surge. “S-sorry, I can tell you why tomorrow, but I’m j-just not up to speed.” Blue clutched your left arm a little harder and Yellow looked at you a little longer than necessary. Yes, they were definitely worried for you. “B-but it’ll pass”, you took a deep breath. “Promise!” Pink gave you a small smile at that, but you could still see concern in her eyes. You owed them a detailed explanation tomorrow. The chatter picked back up, Yellow and Pink taking turns. One was more or less bickering, the other eagerly talking about the evening they had spent without you. Blue practically hang from your arm, slightly massaging your tense muscles when she felt another tremor working its way through you. You got accustomed to walking after a while, your overloaded brain phasing in and out of the situation. When you finally arrived at home, it felt like you had teleported to the location. Your aching feet told you otherwise. To your amazement, the nausea had died down a bit, probably due to time and fresh air. You’re were still hammered though.

As the Pearls ushered you as quietly as possible into your shared apartment, you could feel the exhaustion creeping up your eyes instead. Your walk became even more sluggish, you barely managed to kick off your shoes (much to the displeasure of Yellow, who gave you an indignant sigh) and you blindly wobbled to your bedroom, all three of them following you. As you simply face-planted into the incredibly soft bedding, Yellow was getting winded. “No, no, no!”, she picked you up by the back of your shirt, hauling you back into consciousness. “You’ll ruin the sheets.” Struggling to find your footing, she only released your top after you were out of the door, the soft giggling of Blue and worried gaze of Pink following you. After closing the bathroom door forcefully behind you, she left you alone. Now it was only you and your haggard reflection in the mirror. “Goodness”, you steadied yourself on the sink while you poked your eye bags. You looked very… unfavorable, to say the least. Nothing a full night of sleep couldn’t fix, though. Sighing, you sat down on the toilet lid to wrestle yourself out of your clothing - all those zippers and hooks had been easier to put on a couple of hours ago. Somewhere during the struggle - probably between wiggling out of your socks and fighting with some knots in your hair, your eyes simply clamped shut. You fell asleep then and there, outfit still on, slouched on the toilet seat. After ten minutes of no noise - especially not the tinkling of the shower head -  Yellow decided to check up on you, the other two in tow. As the three of them peered into the bathroom, Yellow had to suppress a groan at your sight, while the Pink and Blue laughed silently. Rolling her eyes, she strode up to you, lightly touching your shoulder, trying to wake you up. Your head lolled back in response, eyes flickering open for a moment, promptly closing again. She tapped your chest with her index finger once, as if to chastise you. “You should feel honoured that you’re my human”, her voice was barely above a whisper as she lifted you up with a sour expression, the others quick to help her. Together, they carried you back into the bedroom, freeing you of your restrictive clothing. Pink and Blue quickly found their usual places right next to you, cuddling up to you with ease. Your subconscious made you curl into the both of them, Pink lovingly stroking your hair away from your face. Yellow sat on the edge of the mattress, frowning while she watched the three of you. “Why don’t you join us?”, Blue’s voice was hushed, trying not to wake you up. Yellow raiser her chin in response. “And dirty myse-” She didn’t get to finish that sentence as your hand shot up and pulled her towards the cuddle pile with an iron grip. “C’mere.” She squealed in surprise, face immediately on fire. After a minute of adjusting herself, she eventually settled into a comfortable position and reluctantly drifted off, as did the others. You woke up to the sound of soft breathing and an unfamiliar pressure on your stomach. Looking down, you first saw Blue resting on your chest and further down a lightly snoring Yellow. Pink’s face was nestled in the left side of your hair, her breath warming your scalp. Groaning as quietly as you could, you strained your neck to take a look at the time, only to be greeted by Blue’s head shooting up, a tired smile on her lips. “Morning”, you grinned at her, promptly pressing your hand against your mouth. You had the most terrible morning breath, even you could smell yourself. A wave of humiliation washed over you, along with an agonizing headache. She only giggled and pressed a kiss to your forehead instead, then quickly got up to wake the others. After Yellow basically propelled herself out of bed in shock and Pink finally (after many gentle words and loving touches) was ready to let go of you, you were forced to take a shower and brush your teeth, no matter how bad the headache was. To Yellow’s credit, you did feel better after getting clean. The sun was still painfully bright and your head wasn’t done with throbbing to the beat of some imaginary techno tune, but you felt like you could at least stomach some food now. The smell of your favorite breakfast hit you as soon as you left the bathroom, guiding you to the kitchen, where an excited Pink Pearl prepared a hefty plate for you and Yellow and Blue sat at the kitchen table, a hushed conversation going on between the two. As soon as Yellow caught your eye, she crossed her hands over her chest, her voice shrill in annoyance.  “Well, why didn't you tell us you were drunk?”

"Uhm…", you blinked at her for a second, a bit lost. "I thought you weren't familiar with the concept and I swear I didn't plan to escalate like this yesterday. I'm so sorry."

You looked down to your hands, nervously fiddling around with the hem of your shirt. It wasn't like you were lying, in all your excitement you had forgotten to warn them - going out was such a normal thing in life and you weren't usually one to get that wasted. This didn't absolve you of your guilt at all, you had probably scared the ever-loving shit out of them still. They were a trusting bunch that believed you when you told them something - that was perhaps why they hadn't fussed over you yesterday. You had assured them that everything had been alright, after all. Pink sat the plate down at your usual place, a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"We know you didn't mean to hurt us. But we were worried!"

You said nothing, your face hot with shame, hands now tightly clutching your shirt. “Come, sit down”, Pink lightly pushed you towards the table and you reluctantly plopped down, your non-dominant hand immediately clasped by Blue. She gently stroked it with her thumb, a gesture of reassurance. It helped a bit. Yellow rolled her eyes at your sorry form. “Stars, you are so dramatic!” “It really isn’t much of a problem”, Blue piped up next to you. “Just tell us next time, okay?” One shy glance at each of them later, you reluctantly nodded. “I’m still sorry I fucked up.” “It’s okay”, Pink giggled a bit at your puppy eyes. “I think you’re paying enough already.” As if to illustrate her point, your head throbbed once again. “...Maybe.” As you finally dug in, one last thought got the better of you. Something didn’t really add up here."Wait - how did you know I was drunk?", you asked perplexed, the fork in your hand coming to a grinding halt. Yellow didn't say anything, she grabbed something from her lap instead: Pink's smartphone, cluttered with a million stickers. Holding it between her index finger and her thumb, she began to waggle it in a 'gotcha' motion, her face the ultimate deadpan. The google logo was displayed on screen."You know, your human communication devices aren't that bad after all."

[bubonickitten]

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter 3 is up! 

Chapter 1 (tumblr // AO3) | Chapter 2 (tumblr // AO3)

Full text + content warnings under the cut.

CW: brief claustrophobia; some grief and loss stuff; a few more instances of casual misgendering (not malicious; just some wrong pronouns here and there due to the speaking-in-statements thing, but thought I'd mention it just in case); a single LORGE spider. Also, Jon gets to do one (1) swear, as a treat. SPOILERS through MAG 169.

   Chapter 3: Rift

   Jon doesn’t remember the hill being this steep.

  Or maybe he’s just winded from the long trek through the wasteland. He’d had to pass through a long stretch of territory fought over by the Buried and the Vast. The ground there was practically a minefield, pockmarked with sinkholes. They would start out as quicksand traps and suffocating tunnel entrances, only to be hollowed out into yawning chasms and cenotes, then ultimately collapsed all over again by a retaliation-minded Choke. It was an endless cycle of petty rivalry and animosity, and passing so near their battlegrounds left Jon breathless with a discordant mix of claustrophobia and agoraphobia.

  Worse was when the Dark managed to sneak its way into the mix. Whether it was Too Close I Cannot Breathe or the Vast’s abyss, the Dark could always find a way to exploit subterranean spaces – and it could never resist reaching out to needle at an Avatar of the Eye, no matter how inadvisable it was to cross the Archive these days.

  As Jon drew closer to Hill Top Road, he left the warzone behind for a mostly featureless landscape punctuated with the occasional foxholes of the Slaughter and pockets of the Forsaken’s fog. Eventually those too gave way to a seemingly endless dust bowl of soot and ash – a sprawling domain claimed by the Lightless Flame.

  The house at Hill Top Road is the only thing still standing in the midst of kilometres of Desolation-scorched earth. The charred terrain stops abruptly at the foot of the hill, a stark line demarcating the boundary between the Blackened Earth and the territory that Annabelle Cane has staked out as her own. Jon had half-expected an invisible barrier to stop him there as well – the last time he was here, Annabelle had forbidden him from returning – but there had been no resistance when he stepped over the border.

  As he hikes up the incline now, he finds himself worrying over what that might mean. Is Annabelle expecting him, inviting him in? Is she simply tolerating his presence, curious to see what he’s up to? Could he be powerful enough now that even she cannot stop him? Or is he once again wrapped up in the Web’s machinations, doing exactly what the Mother of Puppets wants?

  He shakes his head. No. He and Martin talked about this. There’s no point in obsessing over the Web’s motivations, letting the memory of Annabelle’s statement paralyze him with indecision. Better to just… keep moving forward.

  And it’s not like he has anything left to lose. 

  Jon continues up the hill, increasingly winded, his bad leg throbbing angrily, and he thinks to himself again: he really, really doesn’t remember it being this steep.

   Before long, he’s standing at the threshold of the house at Hill Top Road. The dread permeating the place is just as palpable as he remembered.

  He waits for the Distortion’s inevitable appearance, determined not to let her startle him this time. As if on cue, a door creaks open on the ceiling above him.

  “Interesting.” Without preamble, Helen lands noiselessly on her feet beside Jon and peers around curiously. “I wondered whether Annabelle would let me in.”

  So did Jon. Maybe he should be concerned about – no. He shuts down that train of thought before it can pull out of the station.    

  “You still haven’t explained what exactly you plan on doing here.”

  Honestly, that’s mostly because Jon hasn’t figured it out yet, either. He only Knows that this is where he needs to be.

  The Eye wants things to change – as much as it can be said to want anything. Setting the question of its sentience or lack thereof aside, at the Panopticon he had been able to Know things that the Beholding had previously withheld from him. He might be stronger than the other Avatars and monsters lurking about the world, but he’s not arrogant enough to believe he could overpower any of the Fears themselves. If the Ceaseless Watcher gives him access to knowledge, it’s because his Knowing will facilitate – or at least not inhibit – its plans, which means that he must have the Eye’s… blessing, to be here? He shakes his head; he’s getting caught up on semantics again.

  Point is: he Asked a question and – as usual – he was given a scrap of an answer and left to puzzle the rest out for himself. All he Knows for certain is what he wants to happen, and that this is where he needs to be in order to make it happen.

  “Jonathan.” Helen says his name with a playful lilt and leans further into his personal space. “Are you going to share with the class?” 

  Without a word, he sidesteps around her and walks further into the house. In her statement, Anya Villette had mentioned a door under the stairs leading to the basement, but the last time Jon was here, it was nowhere to be seen. He hopes it’s there this time.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Jon drags one hand down his face and sighs. Having Helen tag along is like taking a road trip through hell with an easily bored and… well, deeply annoying child. Huh.   

  “I won’t be ignored, Jon –”  

  Jon bristles, redirects his gaze, and stares daggers at her with a few more eyes than strictly necessary. “Some magically appearing door.”  

  “You aren’t being very kind to me right now, you know.” She tries to sound wounded, but really she just sounds pleased to have gotten a reaction from him.

  Jon gives an irritated huff and continues forward through the entrance hall. He treads softly, all too aware of every subtle creak of a floorboard. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering muffling his footsteps. It doesn’t matter how quiet he is; Annabelle will know – probably already knows – that he’s here regardless. Still, there’s just something about the house that demands a certain amount of fearful reverence. Disturbing the silence just feels like a bad idea. 

  Helen doesn’t appear to have the same concerns. In fact, it almost seems like she’s going out of her way to announce their presence. Of course.

  Jon catches a glimpse of the staircase as he rounds the corner and – yes, there’s a door under the stairs. A plain, painted white door with a brass handle, otherwise unremarkable and entirely unassuming.

  And yet…

  As he tries to approach it, he finds himself rooted to the spot, overcome with a sense of trepidation. He feels his breath coming faster, shallower; feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Every one of the Archive’s eyes locks onto the doorknob and for a moment he swears he feels tiny, feather-light legs scurrying down his spine. He pulls his pack tight against him, using the physical weight of it to dampen the tactile hallucination.     

  “I hate it,” Helen says darkly. Jon jumps just slightly at the break in the silence, and a few of the Archive’s eyes suspend their rapt scrutiny of the door handle to glance in her direction. Her posture is tense where she stands, staring warily at the door as if it might lunge at them. Jon has never seen the Distortion look so… unsettled.    

  She’s right, though. The door is wrong. More than that, it’s the exact same flavor of wrongness that he felt the first time he saw A Guest for Mr. Spider, and again when he reached out to knock on the monster’s door.

  Back then, he hadn’t known that the concept of wrongness could be broken down into so many distinct subtypes: the uncanny disquietude of the Stranger feels fundamentally different from the compulsion of the coffin, the sensation of worms tunneling through flesh, the Distortion’s nonsensical corridors, the Lonely’s suffocating fog.

  The pull of the Web is in a class of its own, and the sight of the door in front of him drops him right back into the memory of the day he opened the book – the day he took the first step on the winding path that led him, inevitably, to this exact moment. It’s such a fitting parallel, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was orchestrated down to the finest detail. He knows the Web plays a long game, but precisely how much of what has happened was in perfect accordance with the Web’s plans? What even is the Web’s –

  No. Stop fixating on the Spider, he reprimands himself for the umpteenth time this… day? Whatever; it’s not important. He forces his legs to move.

  “You’re sticking your hand in a bear trap, I hope you know.” 

  “I knew opening the door was a stupid thing to do,” Jon says, nonchalant. “So I opened the door.”  

  Helen breathes a surprised laugh. “Was that a joke?”

  “The idea that this is all some grand cosmic joke,” Jon rattles off drily, “thousands of us running around spread horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible unknowing things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we caused –”  

  “Terrible.” Helen groans and puts her head in her hands. “Here I was, ready to compliment you on finally finding a sense of humor, and you have to ruin the moment with – with existentialist brooding.”

  Jon chuckles quietly to himself and takes another step forward.  

  “Wait.” Helen reaches one long-fingered hand in Jon’s direction, then falters and pulls back. For a moment, she seems to wrestle with whether or not to continue. “What’s behind the door?”

  “A scar in reality –”  

  “Yes, I know about the rift. What do you expect to find in it? An answer? An escape? A means of suicide?”

  “A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time.”  

  Jon pauses, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks inward and browses through his catalog.

  “It bends and twists and returns to what it was,” he settles on eventually.  

  “I told you not to use my words.” Helen gives him a warning look, but it’s fleeting, because a moment later his meaning sinks in and she huffs out a short laugh of disbelief. “Wait – wait, wait, wait. You think you can… what, turn back time?”

  Jon grimaces and makes a noncommittal seesawing motion with one hand.

  “…could emerge back into the world that she remembered.”   

  Helen starts laughing in earnest now. “You think you can time travel?”

  Jon just shrugs, unashamed. He knows he should feel embarrassed – back when he first took the position as Head Archivist, he would have scoffed at anyone making such a suggestion – but at this point, is it any more or less unrealistic than anything else that’s happened?

  “Alright,” Helen says, stifling another giggle, “I’ll grant you that there’s a rift in space and time. People have traveled through it before.”

  Jon gives an enthusiastic nod. After her encounter with the crack in the house's foundation, Anya Villette had found herself temporally displaced. What would stop Jon from also –

  “However,” Helen continues, “what makes you think you’ll just rewind your position on this timeline? It could just take you to a parallel world, leaving this one behind to suffer and decay. Would you abandon what remains of humanity like that?”

  Seeing as Anya Villette appeared to have also been spatially displaced, Jon has already considered this possibility. Helen probably knows that, too – she’s well-acquainted with his tendency to overthink things. She’s just trying to tap into his chronic self-loathing, demoralize him, make him doubt his own perceptions. It’s a familiar pattern, one Jon used to submit to far too easily.

  “…better than staying here with this strange woman.”  

  “Ouch.” Helen brings a hand to her chest in mock offense. “You’re being awfully cruel today.”

  Jon flashes an entirely unapologetic smile.

  “I was being serious, you know.” A knowing mischief creeps into Helen’s eyes. “You’ve always been selfish, but would you really run away from your mistakes, save yourself and damn the rest?”

  Unfortunately for Helen, she’s arrived too late to this particular debate. Jon already spent the entire trip here berating himself and second-guessing his conclusions, and he’s just about gotten it out of his system for the time being. Self-recrimination as an inoculation against the Distortion’s manipulations – now there’s a concept, he thinks wryly.  

  “Do you honestly believe you deserve to escape an apocalypse that you brought about?”

  God, she’s persistent.

  “Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value,” he says simply. “That I love. And I cannot lose him.”  

  It’s the truth: the final deciding factor for him was, as it so often is, Martin.

  “You would potentially forsake this entire world just to reverse your own loss?”

  “There was nothing left to save.”  

  It never gets easier to admit it out loud, but that doesn’t change the truth of it. This world is already forsaken. Humanity is dying out, slowly but surely, and Jon harbors a guilty feeling of relief that their torment will not be eternal after all. As far as he can See, there’s no way for him to save the ones who remain. There never was.

  His power was never meant to help anyone. For a long time, the only action within his grasp was to hurt – and so, he went after those who deserved to be hurt, because the only other option was doing nothing at all. But seeking revenge never saved anyone, never even made himself feel any better. If anything, it only made him feel emptier, more and more alienated from whatever human part of him still lingered – and that was a very dangerous place to be.

  And when he and Martin decided together that he needed to slow down, to maintain some distance between himself and the Eye? Well… nothing substantial changed in the slightest. He didn’t get any worse, but he also didn’t get better. The world continued to suffer just as much as if he were to sit down and take no action at all. Nothing he did or did not do made any impact whatsoever.

  He Knows intimately that he cannot banish the Entities from this world as long as one person remains to feel fear. Once that last person dies, there will be no one left to save. Hell, depending on how human he still is by that time, he may very well be that last person, and the Dread Powers will just have to ration him. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve all had a taste of him more than once. He’s an unfinished meal. They could just resume hacking away at him, demanding their respective pounds of flesh one after the other until nothing remains – until finally, mercifully, the Fears themselves would wither and die as well. He just doesn’t want to consider how long that could take – no. Best not to dwell on it.   

  The point is, there is no future for this world. There is nothing left for him to do here. His only hope is to prevent all of this from coming to pass in the first place, and this… this is the only lead he has. And besides, Martin –

  “You do realize that you have a vanishingly small chance of seeing him again, don’t you?”

  “I decided to take a risk and try it anyway.”  

  Helen looks put out at his easy dismissal, but she really ought to know better by now, Jon thinks. He might be chronically plagued by self-hate and a visceral fear of being controlled, but Martin is his anchor in more ways than one. Their relationship is proof of Jon’s own capacity for free will, and his decision to go after Martin in the Lonely remains one of the only things he’s done where he’s never once wondered whether he made the right choice. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more confident about anything than he is about their love for each other, even if he doesn’t always feel like he deserves it. Helen really couldn’t pick a worse seed with which to sow self-doubt.

  When she sees that Jon isn’t taking the bait, she changes tack. 

  “And assuming this scheme somehow works as you hope it does, and doesn’t just get you shunted to some hellish pocket dimension – which it almost certainly will – you do realize that your little scene with Jonah Magnus will mean nothing, don’t you? This future will be erased, he will not suffer for eternity – he won’t even remember that it was ever a possibility.”

  “For all her anger, there was no thirst for revenge in the Archivist, only an eagerness to expunge an infection that had gone unnoticed for too long.”  

  “Then why bother confronting him? I know it wasn’t for closure – if you were at all capable of letting go or moving on, you would never have been a candidate for the Beholding in the first place, and we wouldn’t be here now.” Jon just barely manages to not flinch at that. Luckily, Helen doesn’t seem to notice that she struck a nerve, instead staring up at the ceiling in contemplation, as if trying to decipher Jon’s motivations on her own. “So, why? All those messy emotions it dredged up and for what – the drama of it all?”  

  “I live for the monologue,” he deadpans. 

  “Jonathan!” Helen gapes at him in exaggerated shock. “Was that another joke?”

  She could stand to tone down the condescension, Jon thinks. It isn’t his fault if people overlook his sense of humor just because they never think to listen for it.   

  “Are you certain about this, Archivist? You have a history of reaching these points of no return and choosing the worst imaginable path.”

  Even at the very end, the Distortion just can’t resist one last chance at undermining his confidence. Despite the cockiness underlying her taunt, Helen has a hungry, almost pleading look in her eye – desperate, like everything else in this place that feeds on fear, for scraps in the midst of a famine that will never be remedied.

  Jon reaches out and grips the doorknob with one hand.

  “Even the end of the world can’t stop you throwing yourself on a grenade. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m not following you in there, though.”

  “Thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose.”   

  “I am trying to have a heartfelt goodbye, Jonathan,” Helen says, not sounding sincere in the slightest. “I doubt this will go as you hope it will, but I’m fairly certain that no matter what happens, I won’t be seeing you again. I won’t wish you luck, but… well, it will be interesting to see whether one of your half-assed plans might pan out for once – not that they ever have gone according to plan.” When Jon’s resolve remains strong, Helen sighs – and this time, her disappointment does sound genuine. “Well, if you’re sure…” She trails off, giving him one last hopeful look – once last chance to fall apart under her skillful denigrations – before her shoulders slump in resignation.

  Not content to leave it at that, though, she does offer one last parting shot: “Do say hello to the Spider for me, won’t you?”

  An involuntary shudder courses down Jon’s spine as he remembers Anya Villette’s statement – the massive spider legs reaching up to pull her into the crack in the foundation – and compares it with his own memory of the book, the door, and the monster lurking within. Helen breathes a contented sigh at his ripple of unease – basically a snack for her, at Jon’s expense. Fine. She can have that last little morsel of fear from him, as a parting gift.  

  “Sometimes you just have to leave,” Jon says firmly, turning the handle. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”  

  And, oh, it does.

  Miraculously, Helen allows him to have the last word. As he pushes open the door to the basement, he hears Helen’s door creak open in unison. By the time he’s staring down the stairs into the dark, her door has snapped shut and popped out of existence. 

   The staircase pitches down, down, down, stretching far deeper than it should. It’s too dark to see much of anything, and it takes a full minute of descent until he notices that there’s a slight curve to it. With every step, the air grows warmer and more stifling. The revolting sensation of walking through cobwebs becomes a constant, but any time he reaches up to brush away the web clinging to him, he feels nothing but his own bare skin.

  A few minutes in, his bad leg starts twinging again, and he holds on to the wall to steady himself. Before long, his mind begins to wander to the horrifying possibility that the staircase is interminable, and he’s overcome by an image of a funnel web spider waiting patiently for unsuspecting prey. He tries to push the thought away. Just keep moving.

  Between the lack of visibility and being lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice the sharp turn in the staircase until he plows right into the wall, a sharp pain erupting in his left shoulder from the collision. He throws one hand back to steady himself and only barely manages to stay on his feet, his bad leg protesting as he throws his weight into it. After briefly taking inventory of himself and experimentally putting weight on his leg again – painful, but not unbearable – he gropes blindly for the wall again and uses it to guide himself forward, more slowly this time. It isn’t long before the stone of the wall gives way to cool, damp earth, and he shivers with the memory of the Buried.

  After several more sharp, nearly 90-degree twists and turns, a faint glow starts to permeate the darkness. A few minutes later, the staircase opens up into a large, dimly-lit space, garlanded with spider silk. The ceiling, walls, and floor are composed of tightly-packed dirt, and Jon has to fight back a rush of claustrophobic panic at the thought of being surrounded on all sides by the crushing earth. It’s short-lived, as it’s crowded out by a much deeper, more primal fear when he sees the fissure in the ground ahead.

  It’s a repulsive, crooked thing, oozing with a pervasive, tangible feeling of wrongness. It should not be there. It cannot be there. And yet there it is, boldly existing where it has no right or reason to be, a gnawing, open, inflamed wound in the fabric of reality, pulling him toward it like a black hole. It’s a compulsion stronger than the coffin, an abomination more uncanny than the Stranger, a malice deeper than any Dark, an inevitability on par with Terminus itself.

  Jon hates it. At his first glimpse of it, every one of the Archive’s eyes fly open, greedily drinking in the oppressive presence of something so unfamiliar and anomalous, leeching off of Jon’s terror as he beholds it. The scrutiny is fleeting, though, as the sight of it turns corrosive and blistering; all at once, the eyes shrink away and retreat, like a school of fish spotting a bird of prey swooping down for a meal. It takes some of the edge off, having fewer eyes with which to see the thing, but it still weighs him down with dread and revulsion.

  Jon doesn’t know how long he’s stood there, staring unblinkingly at the fault line, before he senses a presence – something colossal and hungry and wrong, malevolence and foreboding given physical form – climbing inexorably toward him. He hears a faint rustling, the whisper of tiny avalanches of dirt scraped loose and sent sliding down the walls of the crevice. He knows exactly what to expect, and still he isn’t prepared when the first of the spider’s legs peeks up over the lip of the fissure.

     How is it that after a lifetime to process a childhood trauma, it still throttles his heart and squeezes the air from his lungs at the mere thought of it? How is it that, despite being the most formidable thing in this world outside of Fear itself, he feels as small and helpless now as he did on the day he met his first of many monsters? Why is he just standing here, letting those hairy, spindly limbs hover and curl around him like an enormous clawed hand, waiting for a fate that is as unknowable as it is inevitable?

  Focus, Jon thinks to himself. Listen to the quiet.

  He slowly reaches into his jacket and breathes a sigh of relief as his fingers close around the notebook safeguarded there. It’s Martin’s, full of poems and sketches and stream-of-consciousness journal entries. Jon has had it with him for a long time now, but he’s never been able to bring himself to look inside it. Martin would occasionally share its contents with him – mostly completed poems, and only occasionally works in progress, as he was always self-conscious about his creative process – but Jon doesn’t want to accidentally see something that Martin would have preferred to keep to himself. Martin might not be beside him right now, but he still deserves to have his privacy respected.

  Still, for Jon, just having it with him is a physical reminder of his anchor, and running his thumb over the cover grounds him in the present. He closes his eyes and looks inward.  

  The Archive gropes blindly for something solid amidst the noise, some elemental truth to serve as a starting point in the chaotic tangle choking this place. The edges of his mind brush against thread after thread and none of them are what he’s looking for. They stick to him, filling his head with cotton, making him sluggish and confused, obfuscating his sight. The Spider watches as he flails, becoming more and more snarled in the web.

  “I closed my eyes and remembered in as much detail and with as much love as I could muster in my despair,” he whispers to himself, anchoring himself in the truth of the statement. He swallows a terrified whimper as something coarse and fuzzy brushes against his face, and he weaves a command into his next words: “Eventually, I opened my eyes again –” 

  The Archive obeys, hundreds of eyes materializing on his skin and blinking open in the space around him, grotesque satellites of varying sizes all seizing on single question, and suddenly he can See –

  There.

  A single thread, out of place among the rest, pulled taut and leading down into the deep gloom of the chasm. He spares a brief thought as to its origin point – Is its anchor here, now, or do its roots begin on the other side? – before silencing it. It’s not a question that needs answering right now. The Beholding objects; Jon reflexively shuts it down and takes an aggravated swipe at the nearest cluster of eyes he can reach, like swatting at a swarm of mosquitoes. He doesn’t think it actually does anything concrete, but when they disperse it brings him a small measure of satisfaction all the same.

  He gives an experimental tug on the thread and – it feels right. That’s good, right? Well, he supposes it could be the Web trying to trick him into –

  God, he’s like a dog with a bone. He could be trapped in a burning building and find part of his mind wandering off to idly ponder the melting point of steel –

  …around 1370 °C for carbon steel; between 1400 and 1530°C for stainless steel, depending on the specific alloy and grade…

  – which, yes, he has done. It’s a good way to dissociate from a crisis. Unfortunately, it’s also a good way to get killed, and the giant spider is still there, Jonathan, focus.    

  He holds fast to the thread – make a path for yourself, tune it to the frequency you need –

  “Everything about being with him felt so natural that when he told me he loved me,” he tells himself, louder this time, “it only came as a surprise to realize that we hadn’t said it already.”  

  – and he follows it, stepping carefully around and between the spider’s legs. He has no idea why it isn’t attacking him – what if this is exactly what Annabelle – no. He shakes his head as if it will jostle the thought loose. Just be thankful for it and keep moving before the damn thing changes its mind.

  Moments or hours or perhaps days later, he’s standing at the precipice of the fissure and looking down. Several eyes are riveted on the massive hairy form poised above him, but most are staring into the unknowable darkness with a gnawing, longing fascination. He stands frozen in place, torn between an overwhelming urge to flee and an overpowering need to Know what’s down there: something new, something fresh, something different – any reprieve at all from the excruciating monotony of this nightmare world.

  The spider shifts above him. It’s now or never. He has nothing to lose, and if there’s any chance at all of changing this doomed future – of seeing Martin again…

  “Sometimes you just have to leave,” he reminds himself, shutting his human eyes tight, one hand clutching the notebook and the other clenching into a fist until the fingernails cut into the palm. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”  

  He takes one last deep breath, thinks of Martin – safe hands, warm eyes, gentle touch – and he takes a leap of faith.

   Jon can’t see anything. He can’t See, either. There is an incessant, high-pitched whine screaming in his ears and drowning out his thoughts. When he moves to put his hands over his ears, he realizes all at once that he can’t feel his body. He has no sense of up or down, no fingers to flex, no breath to hold, and – and he can’t See.

  It’s… terrifying. It’s liberating. It hurts, but in the same way that his first gulp of fresh air hurt after three days asphyxiating in the Buried.

  He doesn’t know how long he floats there in that near-senseless limbo, but between one moment and the next a blanket of fog drops over him and the shrill static is muffled. Through the haze, he can just barely make out a voice, coming from so far away – like he’s drowning, and someone is speaking to him from above the water’s surface. He drifts and listens in a daze as the voice cuts in and out.

  “– just – thought I’d – by. Check in – how you’re –”

  It’s a nice voice.

  “– really need you –”

  A safe voice.  

  “– Jon.”

  Wait.

  “– bad. I – how much longer we can –”

  Wait, it’s – that’s Martin’s voice.

  “We – I need you.”

  It’s Martin. Martin!

  Martin is here, he’s here – Jon doesn’t know where here is, but it doesn’t matter, because Martin is here, and – and Jon is so overwhelmed with euphoria that he isn’t actually processing what’s being said. Calm down, focus – focus on the words –    

  “And I – I know that you’re not –”

  Oh.

  “I know there’s no way to –”

  Oh, no.

  “But we need you, Jon.”

  All at once, Jon knows where – when he is.

  “Jon, please, just – please.”

  No. No, no, no, no –

  “If – if there’s anything left in you that can still see us, or –”

  Martin, I’m here! 

  “– or some power that you’ve still got, or –”

  I’m here, I’m here, I’m here –

  “– or, or something, anything, please! Please.”

  Martin’s voice breaks, and Jon’s heart fractures with it.

  “I – I can’t –”

  Jon can just barely make out the buzz of a phone and – oh.

  “I’m – I’m actually with him now.”

  Martin!  

  “You were right.” A pause, and a heavy sigh. “I – will they be safe?”

  Peter Lukas. It’s Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas is still alive, Peter Lukas is hunting Martin, Peter Lukas wants to feed him to the Lonely, Peter Lukas is –

  “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Martin, don’t –

  “Yeah. Sure thing.”  

  Martin!

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jon tries to scream, to reach out, to do anything at all, but he doesn’t have a body and he doesn’t have a voice and he can’t See –

  “Goodbye, Jon.”

  Martin, look at me! Hear me, please - see me! 

  He tries to thread a command through the words, but the compulsion doesn't come through, and - 

  Jon hears the rustle of clothing as Martin stands to leave, followed by the soft click of the door as it closes behind him. 

  Fuck. 

   End Notes:

me: i could go into some long-winded exposition about the space-time continuum  also me: OR, alternatively, i can handwave it and say It's The Power Of Love, Don't Even Worry About It

anyway, my gay little heart knows what it's about.

 - Jon’s dialogue is taken from the statements in the following episodes: MAG 146; 054; 151; 139; 168; 101; 134; 010; 037; 008; 019; 167; 108; 103; 146; 048; 013; 146.

- Jon gets some original verbal dialogue starting next chapter. Thought I'd mention it just in case anyone is getting tired of the Archive-speak (though there will still be some of that). :P

- Psst, if you want to read a detour about Jon and Martin's talk about Annabelle and free will and Not Obsessing Over The Web, I wrote that here. (I'm linking it here because it actually originally started as part of this fic but I decided to make it its own thing because my ADHD brain ran with it and it was waaaaay too much of a tangent sdsdhshgh)

[victoodles]

Not 100% sure if you do requests, but if you do could you do something (platonic or romantic) with Aziraphale where the reader is a demon and works with Crowley and acts all tough but Aziraphale finds out that she secretly LOVES baking? Sorry it's so specific but I've had the idea in my head for awhile but for some reason couldn't write it. I saw your Crowley fic and it was so well-written!

another request coming in hot!!! i have only written for my angel oc but switching it up with a demon gal was so much fun! as always, enjoy 

“Boo!” 

Aziraphale jolts back in his chair with a yelp at the unexpected intrusion, knocking over a stack of books in the process. The discordance is paired with mischievous giggling followed by a heavy sigh, courtesy of Crowley. 

“Told ya it would spook him!” You continue to titter, wrapping your arms around Crowley’s neck as you float behind him. Crowley rolls his eyes from behind his glasses and regards you from over his shoulder.

“Boo? Really? Are you a thousand years old?” You respond to his reprimands with a pout. 

“It was funny!” 

Aziraphale begs to differ as he miracles the mess back into order with a snap of his fingers. “Hello you two,” he says, exasperated already. Crowley acknowledges his friend with a nod and you a salute, now floating leisurely on your back. 

“My dear, you’re corporeal now. You can walk, you have legs.” Aziraphale explains with the same sternness of a chiding mother. 

You purse your lips again. “But that means effort. And this,” you cross your legs and elevate them in the air, “is much more fun.” 

“But if a human were to come in and see-“ Aziraphale begins but you interrupt with your own snap. The locks to his bookshop turn up with a click. 

“There, problem solved.” You say simply, holding your palm out to Crowley for a high-five. He complies. You lower your over-sized sunglasses (you vehemently brag that they’re Gucci), revealing pitch black eyes and shoot Aziraphale a wink. 

Aziraphale pinches the bridge of his nose, saying a silent prayer for his patience. “Right,” he begins before taking a seat again, pulling out a file full of various documents. “Now that the two of you have arrived-“

You eye the papers with contempt. “Wait,” you interject yet again, “are we actually here to do work?” Aziraphale looks at you incredulously. Crowley has opted to stay out of it, pouring himself a glass of red wine before plopping down on the couch. 

“Y-yes of course. Now that Armageddon has been successfully thwarted we must plan for the new future! Managing Adam’s powers, proper schooling for him, and-“ 

“Yeah yeah that all sounds grand. And very boring.” You fake a yawn and motion for Crowley to pass the wine. 

“Boring?!” 

“She’s not wrong,” Crowley adds casually, earning him a shocked gasp from the angel. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cannot believe what he is hearing. Crowley shrugs nonchalantly in response and you snicker playfully. 

“Well you two can hash it out, figure out all the details. Azi, just come over later and fill me in.” You say with a dismissive wave.

“But-“

“Toodles!” And with that you vanished, presumably returning to your own abode. Aziraphale is left dumbfounded; Crowley seems unsurprised with how the afternoon is turning out. 

“She is…” Aziraphale begins, nerves frayed.

“Something else? I know, you’ve previously mentioned.” Crowley offers Aziraphale a well needed glass of Cabernet.

~

After hours of much deliberation, meticulously crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, Aziraphale and Crowley successfully mapped out the next ten years of Adam’s life and then some. While it would’ve gone by quicker if you were a willing participant, it seems you were not fond of working, physical or mental.

Aziraphale runs a hand through his hair (which he heavily considered tearing out due to frustration) and heads for your flat. It’s conveniently in the same complex as Crowley’s; Aziraphale has the route memorized and thoroughly enjoys the walk. 

He takes the time to reflect. The world is safe from needless slaughter - humanity can continue to thrive. And it’s all because of the friendship between demons and an angel. Yet despite all these victories, Aziraphale can’t place why you are being so lackadaisical about...well everything. 

Crowley had said you spent a majority of your time when you were in office at Circle 5 - Sloth. And even when you decided to “grace” Hell with your presence, as you often put it, you would just sunbathe next to the River Styx. In contrast to doing any of your assigned clerical duties, or anything work related at all.

Yet when Armgeddon came knocking on Earth’s door, you were there alongside them to eagerly answer the call. 

Quite strange indeed, Aziraphale muses as he approaches your door. He gives the wood three polite knocks and awaits your response. 

Nothing. 

He tries again, this time with a call of your name. And once again he is met with the same silence. 

“Oh for Heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale’s patience has already waned dangerously thin; he just wants to give you an overview of today’s happenings and get back home. While he typically tries to avoid debauchery of any kind, he is too exhausted to follow his usual principles. 

Aziraphale looks to both ends of the corridor to ensure the coast is clear before miracling your door open. Being frivolous with his powers wasn’t a concern anymore thankfully.

Your door unlatches effortlessly and Aziraphale escorts himself inside. He doesn’t think he’s ever set foot in your flat before - you weren’t prone to company. But just from the entryway he can deduce that this place definitely belongs to you.     

Red velvet drapes cover the windows with ornate patterns stitched in gold along their borders. Your carpets seem to mimic that same style: burgundy rugs covering rich mahogany floors. Adorning the walls are a variety of paintings; Aziraphale might be imagining things but he swears you have the original “Birth of Venus”. He thinks it wise to not ask how you acquired that for your collection. 

Aziraphale might have thought he wandered into a demonic opera house had it not been for the aroma of baked goods wafting in the air. Their sweetness was almost palpable and he wished to seek the origins of these confections. 

The trail led him to your kitchen, constructed entirely of marble and equipped with the finest of appliances. You had your back to him, idly whisking a bowl of batter and humming softly to yourself. 

There was none of your usual rigidness or arsenal of snarky comments being slung every which way. You were relaxed, peacefully baking (a skill Aziraphale admittedly didn’t think you capable of). Aziraphale thought you almost looked…

“Angelic…” 

He hadn’t meant to speak that sentiment aloud and you squeal in surprise. The bowl slips from your grasp, splattering its contents all over your floor; a simple wave of your hand soon rectifies the mess. You spin around, horrified to meet Aziraphale’s giddy smile. He was practically bouncing on his feet at this discovery. You pull your sunglasses back down to cover the shame in your eyes. 

“You never told me you baked!” Aziraphale chirps, clasping his hands together. The red tint that adorns your cheeks is positively adorable; Aziraphale has never seen you so flustered! He didn’t think bashful was listed in your range of emotions to be perfectly honest.   

You pathetically sputter, trying to conjure up some sort of excuse but coming up short. Would he believe you if you said you were attempting to poison the nasty old lady who lived next door? Probably not. 

“Who, me? Bake? Don’t be preposterous, Azi!” The angel just continues to beam at you, much to your chagrin.

“Oh, so who made that stack of crepes then?” He motions to the plate filled with a generous portion of fresh crepes, still steaming. Your flush intensifies. 

“I-I have no idea! How peculiar…”

Aziraphale says your name like the coo of a dove, urging the truth from you. He’ll continue to persist, and you sigh in defeat at the realization that you just don’t have the energy to combat him. You silently reprimand yourself for your incessant laziness. 

“Fine, fine,” you begin with a dismissive wave. Aziraphale’s smile only widens at your admission. “If you must know, I enjoy baking from time to time. It feels nice, the manual labor that is...” You feel painfully sheepish all of a sudden. 

“And...all of these are for you?” It’s an earnest question poised with so much sweetness it hurts your teeth. 

“No,” you mumble. Transparency has never been one of your strong suits but Aziraphale has a talent for changing people. Crowley can personally attest to that. “They’re for you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widen in shock. “For me?” He parrots and you scoff. How dare he have the audacity to make you admit this not once but twice. 

“Yes you!” You bark. When he flinches you feel a pang where your heart should be and you soften your tone.  Pursing your lips, you cross your arms over your chest like a petulant child. After centuries of exposure to your mannerisms, Aziraphale found himself admitting that they were actually quite sweet. What a shift - from Hellish to cute in the span of a day. 

“I,” you pause, mulling over your words. He awaits them with bated breath. “I felt bad for leaving you and Crow alone. So I...wanted to make it up to you, I guess.” You admit shyly. It wasn’t much, but you figured you could play it off as a gesture of good faith from a local bakery. Wishful thinking in retrospect. 

Aziraphale helps himself to a seat at your kitchen island, littered with bowls of fruit and whipped cream. He’s already gone to work on preparing himself a crepe filled to the brim with all the proper fixings. 

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Aziraphale asks, patting the empty stool next to him. Once again you find heat rushing to your face. How could an angel such as himself be so unconditionally hospitable to a nefarious Hell-inhabitant? And you thought you were the strange one. 

You grumble some nonsense under your breath and comply with his request. Aziraphale is certainly pleased as punch. He continues helping himself to your hard work (it was meant for him after all) and moaning in delight with each bite. Your heart beats wildly against your ribs; you must be dying. 

“These are absolutely scrumptious, my dear.” He says with a sincerity you’re still not used to. It’s hard to reciprocate but you try your best. One step at a time.

“Thanks…” you grouse, but the appreciation is there. Aziraphale hears it - he always will.