#but he also saves a few lives. in addition to his own.

[cobra-creampuff]

so anyway. headcanon that richie doesn't believe he deserves to be happy, but he makes a concerted effort to live a happy and fulfilling life post derry 2.0 anyway because the kid he used to be still deserves it, and also because all the kids and adults who don't know if it's possible for them or if they deserve it either need to see they can still have it too.

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[coolcarsntrucksngunsnusa]

TRUMP DOES THE UNTHINKABLE by Liz Crokin

As an entertainment journalist, I've had the opportunity to cover Trump for over a decade, and in all my years covering him I've never heard anything negative about the man until he announced he was running for president. Keep in mind, I got paid a lot of money to dig up dirt on celebrities like Trump for a living so a scandalous story on the famous billionaire could've potentially sold a lot of magazines and would've been a Huge feather in my cap.

Instead, I found that he doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs, he's a hardworking businessman. On top of that, he's one of the most generous celebrities in the world with a heart filled with more gold than his $100 million New York penthouse.

Since the media has failed so miserably at reporting the truth about Trump, I decided to put together some of the acts of kindness he's committed over three decades which has gone virtually unnoticed or fallen on deaf ears.

In 1986, Trump prevented the foreclosure of Annabell Hill's family farm after her husband committed suicide. Trump personally phoned down to the auction to stop the sale of her home and offered the widow money. Trump decided to take action after he saw Hill's pleas for help in news reports.

In 1988, a commercial airline refused to fly Andrew Ten, a sick

Orthodox Jewish child with a rare illness, across the country to get medical care because he had to travel with an elaborate life-support system. His grief-stricken parents contacted Trump for help and he didn't hesitate to send his own plane to take the child from Los Angeles to New York so he could get his treatment.

In 1991, 200 Marines who served in Operation Desert Storm spent time at Camp Lejune in North Carolina before they were scheduled to return home to their families. However, the Marines were told that a mistake had been made and an aircraft would not be able to take them home on their scheduled departure date. When Trump got wind of this, he sent his plane to make two trips from North Carolina to Miami to safely return the Gulf War Marines to their loved ones.

In 1995, a motorist stopped to help Trump after the limo he was traveling in got a flat tire. Trump asked the Good Samaritan how he could repay him for his help. All the man asked for was a bouquet of flowers for his wife. A few weeks later Trump sent the flowers with a note that read: We've paid off your mortgage.

In 1996, Trump filed a lawsuit against the city of Palm Beach ,

Florida, accusing the town of discriminating against his Mar-a-Lago resort club because it allowed Jews and blacks. Abraham Foxman, who as the Anti-Defamation League Director at the time, said Trump put the light on Palm Beach not on the beauty and the glitter, but on its seamier side of discrimination. Foxman also noted that Trump's charge had a trickle-down effect because other clubs followed his lead and

began admitting Jews and blacks.

In 2000, Maury Povich featured a little girl named Megan who struggled with Brittle Bone Disease on his show and Trump happened to be watching. Trump said the little girl's story and positive attitude touched his heart. So he contacted Maury and gifted the little girl and her family with a very generous check.

In 2008, after Jennifer Hudson's family members were tragically murdered in Chicago , Trump put the Oscar-winning actress and her family up at his Windy City hotel for free. In addition to that, Trump's security took extra measures to ensure Hudson and her family members were safe during such a difficult time.

In 2013, New York bus driver Darnell Barton spotted a woman close to the edge of a bridge staring at the traffic below as he drove by. He stopped the bus, got out and put his arm around the woman and saved her life by convincing her to not jump. When Trump heard about this story, he sent the hero bus driver a check simply because he believed his good deed deserved to be rewarded.

In 2014, Trump gave $25,000 to Sgt. Andrew Tamoressi after he spent seven months in a Mexican jail for accidentally crossing the US-Mexico border. President Barack Obama couldn't even be bothered to make one phone call to assist with the United States Marine's release; however, Trump opened his pocketbook to help this serviceman get back on his feet.

In 2016, Melissa Consin Young attended a Trump rally and tearfully thanked Trump for changing her life. She said she proudly stood on stage with Trump as Miss Wisconsin USA in 2005. However, years later she found herself struggling with an incurable illness and during her darkest days, she explained that she received a handwritten letter from Trump telling her she's the bravest woman, I know. She said the opportunities that she got from Trump and his organizations ultimately

provided her Mexican-American son with a full-ride to college.

Lynne Patton, a black female executive for the Trump Organization, released a statement in 2016 defending her boss against accusations that he's a racist and a bigot. She tearfully revealed how she's struggled with substance abuse and addiction for years. Instead of kicking her to the curb, she said the Trump Organization and his entire family loyally stood by her through immensely difficult times.

Donald Trump's kindness knows no bounds and his generosity has and continues to touch the lives of people from every sex, race, and religion. When Trump sees someone in need, he wants to help.

Two decades ago, Oprah asked Trump in a TV interview if he'd ever run for president. He said: "If it got so bad, I would never want to rule it out totally because I really am tired of seeing what's happening with this country.'"

That day has come. Trump sees that America is in need and he wants to help. How unthinkable! On the other hand, have you ever heard of Hillary or Obama ever doing such things with their own resources?

Now that's really unthinkable! Might be worth passing on!!!

Just shows we hired the right guy. If Hollywood , the liberals and the

media ever STOP harassing him, Trump will have time to do many more positive things for our country....the good ole United States of America!!

PS ~ To those who are already Fact Checking, don't bother . . . already did it, and all the stories are TRUE!

The Liberal, progressive, socialists want to destroy this guy. .

[gh0st-t0wn3]

I finally had time to make proper designs for the Trio!

Redson: Ver 1

Ver 2

I couldn't decide on if I liked it better with the braids or not so I just posted both, but anyways!

I gotta admit, I used to not like the idea of redson having Bull features (except for a small pair of horn maybe) but the concept really grew on me and now I really love it and wanted to try making my own design and I'm really proud with how it turned out.

I would've added more scars, since Guanyins throne pierced his entire body, but there came a point where it just looked like there was too much going on so I had to get rid of a few scars to tone it down, so we're just gonna say they faded over time, okay? Okay.

I also made him Miao (one of the largest ethnic minorities in southwest China) on PIF's side, and Mongolian on DBK's.

The Miao ethnicity of China has a long history, rich culture, and an ancient folk religion. Adorned in beautiful traditional clothes, possessing natural talent for singing and dancing, they live in uniquely designed indigenous architecture, which I think fits perfectly with how I imagined Princess Iron Fan and with her; Redson.

As for DBK being Mongolian, I saw someone else talking about this headcanon and I just liked it so I decided to use it, I don't really have a specific reason for it, I just thought it fit, not sure why though, it's just one of those things that makes sense even if you don't know why, you know?

Mei:

I made her taller and gave her a long dragon tail (like really long, it drags along the floor if she's not holding it up), though her scales are pretty much everywhere across her body they're most noticeable on her shoulders, thighs, and face (they're a bit hard to see in this photo because they're kinda hidden behind her hair, but I did give her scales beside her eyes)

I also gave her horns these little spiral designs around them, gave her sharper nails, and designed her ears to look like coral, since she's a water dragon and I thought they looked cool.

Honestly idk what else to say about her design, I didn't have anything specific in mind when designing her, I kinda just had to wing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

(I also made her Bengali, on her dad's side, but it's not really important or has any reason behind it, just a headcanon I've had for a while, don't know where it came from though)

MK:

Alot of people have speculated that the monkey form we see during the fight against Azure in season 4 isn't MK's full form yet, that we're just seeing a fraction of what he's yet to become, based on the fact that while he has the weird side burns, the tail and the face marking, he also lacks a natural skin tone, they didn't give him a proper nose etc, so I wanted to play with the idea.

I decided to make him this strange mix between human and monkey, leaving him pretty much human with the addition of his tail(s), and weird li'l monkey feet.

(I was also gonna give MK more arm/leg hair, it was in my first sketch, but I forgot to add them when I was doing the line art and didn't realize until after I saved it as a jpeg, so that's my bad, but I'm gonna add it in to any other art I make)

It's also a bit hard to see in this, but I designed his staff with more details, specifically adding dragon-esque imagery to the Golden ends, this is because (for anyone who's new to the fandom/hasn't read JTTW) Wukong's staff was originally one of the several pillars that held up the sea in the dragon palace, until he stole it and shrunk it down to use as his weapon.

I also did MK's clones :)

Porty MK:

I gave him stripes of coloured hair and gave his tails all different colours, though I don't think he would actually dye it, instead I like to think that he would use that really crappy dollar store spray in hair dye (or hair chalk). I kept the fishnet clothes that I added in my originally design of him for my headcanons post, and decided to give him striped elbow length fingerless gloves.

I also gave him a cropped shirt, ripped shorts and these weird fingerless glove-esque shoes for convenience, since regular shows seem like they would be uncomfortable.

Edit: my dumbass forgot Porty's stupid print jacket 😭

Artist MK:

For Artist MK I gave him overalls and a jacket over it, which he wears specifically for when he's doing paintings so he doesn't ruin too many of his actual clothes (I know I said that this was inspod by Circusapple, which it still is, but this is almost exactly what I wear when I'm painting too, just in different colours).

I also gave him those gloves that digital artists wear so they're hands don't accidently trigger something on the screen because everyone knows that every artist just walks around with their art glove on even when it's not necessary.

Delivery MK:

I have to admit, I was never a big fan of MK's work uniform just being his regular clothes with a work jacket thrown over it so I wanted to try and make him look a little more professional and decided to instead give him a chef coat (similar to the one Pigsy wears on the show as well), with a logo for the restaurant on the chest, along with it I gave him plain black pants, since casual red jeans didn't seem very professional (I know he's just a delivery person, but if you were to look at pretty much any food corporation, even people who do deliveries have to wear uniform, so it's always been kinda strange to me that he's just in regular clothes). 

The shoes were harder to make professional given the whole "half-monkey" thing so I opted to give him the same strange fingerless glove-esque shoes for comfort and convenience, but made them plain black as well.

[lets-try-some-writing]

What’s your thoughts visually on how bots habsuites/ quarters look like? And would they differ between frame types ? As prime big lol Wish we got some media on it :0

Hmm well I do imagine things would differ wildly between each continuity. However, some generalizations might be the following:

Autobots as a whole: Generally speaking, I do imagine the Autobots have habs that match their size and their rank. Rank and file soldiers are bunked together in rooms filled with recharging stations crammed shoulder to shoulder. Most don't mind since they are all together and it's not as if they have anything of their own anyway more often than not. Those further up the chain of command get rooms with less people in them until they finally get a roommate or possibly, if they are super duper special, their very own closet sized space. Actual berths are reserved for those with rooms big enough for them. Most just use recharging stations since it's generally more useful to making the most of a space.

Rank and file soldiers: The average soldier is bunked shoulder to shoulder with his or her comrades. They are each given a standing recharge station boxed right up against everyone else's unless they have an injury which warrants the usage of the handful of berths given to soldiers lower on the chain of command. Generally, such soldiers are kept in huge facilities meant to keep everyone safe and secure rather than comfort them. As such, decoration simply does not happen unless the military position a soldier is stationed at is more permanent. In which case, the soldier might paint their station with odd doodles, splotches of color, or if they are lucky enough to find some, they might slap some stickers on it.

Company commanders and the like: Directly above regular soldiers, various commanders of lower rank get bunked together as well, but they are given a tad more room. This is not a privilege as one might expect, but an actual necessity. Commanders can get called on at any time, and each of them need a little more room to work on reports and whatnot since there simply is not enough space to give each of them an office of their own. As such, their stations are a little farther apart, and between them are their personal effects and maybe something to play the part of a makeshift desk if need be. Decoration is the same as regular soldiers, with the possible addition of medallions, the odd set of fairy lights if one gets lucky, or even a poster or two.

Lieutenants and up: Now this is when a bot would start getting their own space, kind of. Bots of this rank are still bunked with a buddy or two, but they are actually issued rooms in order to supply them with the privacy needed to handle sensitive data. They also get actual berths (which can and often do double as desks). Getting a room means a bot can do almost whatever they like to decorate so long as it sort of aligns with military orders. Most often, lieutenants and the like decorate with weapons on the walls, trophies, artwork, or even murals. It depends on his strict the command center is.

Generals and Prime's Inner Circle: Inner circle bots get privileges, and one of those is a private room. A bot can do whatever the heck they want with their space so long as it doesn't disrupt workflow and the like. Decoration depends entirely on whoever owns the hab. In the case of Ultra Magnus, he lives in a mountain of datapads. Ratchet keeps mementos but will die before admitting it. Jazz has what few instruments he's managed to save. Ironhide decked his room with weapons... the list goes on. There are no limits for the most part. Comes with being constantly under threat of being assassinated.

Prime: Technically, he should be living in a high end facility, never to dirty his digits. But because this is Optimus Prime, he tends to wander. He rests wherever there is a free space and will gladly rest with the soldiers without a worry in the world. The only reason he has a hab at all is for the sake of morale amongst the troops. Although more often than not, it doubles as an extra room for injured troops in need of protection.

Not sure if this is what you wanted anon, but these are my thoughts!

[latanyalove]

Happy Times

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Y/N

Content: Starvation, fluff, Sanji's shy (my favourite part) and Y/N's sad past.

Anon: hello!!!! i love your recent fics and i want to request one for you 🥹 one where reader does happy dances every time she eats sanji’s food? and it’s so natural for her that she makes him shy ((in a good way for doing it

A/n: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

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First of all, thank you for requesting! This is my first time making a request so I hope this story is to your expectations!

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After the Strawhat crew saved your poor country from its terrible leader, you were unexpectedly welcomed aboard as a new addition to the crew.

Despite your lack of devil fruit powers, Luffy saw potential in you and believed that your unique skills and determination would make you a valuable member of the crew. He admired your bravery during the fight and knew that together, you could accomplish even greater things.

He also might have gotten some persuading from a certain cook.

"Cheers to our new nakama, Y/N!" Luffy exclaimed, raising his cup in a toast.

"Cheers!" the crew chorused in unison, their cups clinking together. Each member of the Strawhat crew expressed their excitement for having you on board, promising to support and protect you as one of their own.

From Nami's approving nod to Zoro's subtle smirk, it was clear that you had earned their trust and had become an integral part of their pirate family.

As the celebration continued, you looked around the room and realized that the cook was nowhere to be found. Curiosity piqued, you excused yourself from the crew and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Sanji preparing a feast fit for a king.

You admired Sanji's culinary skills for a while, marveling at how effortlessly he would slice through vegetables and handle the sizzling oil without hesitation. As you watched him prepare the feast, you couldn't help but be in awe of his culinary prowess.

It was no wonder that he was known as the "Black Leg" and hailed as one of the greatest chefs on the Grand Line.

You decided to slip away quietly, not wanting to interrupt Sanji's cooking or draw attention to yourself.

Finding a peaceful spot on the ship, you took a moment to reflect on the incredible turn of events that led you to become a member of the Strawhat crew.

The memories of your past struggles and the newfound sense of belonging filled your heart with gratitude and determination for the adventures that lay ahead.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, you were living in a country oppressed by an unjust ruler. The people had been stripped of their wealth, forced to give all of their money as a gift to the ruler on the 10th anniversary of their reign.

You were once a part of an orphanage that suffered greatly under the ruler's oppressive regime. The orphanage struggled to provide basic necessities for the children, and you witnessed firsthand the hardships faced by the people.

As one of the oldest children in the orphanage, you were burdened with responsibilities beyond your years. From the age of 10, you were expected to take care of the younger children, ensuring they were fed, clothed, and safe. It was a heavy weight to bear, but it taught you resilience and compassion at a young age.

You often found yourself questioning the quality and safety of the food made from the meager rations provided by the adults. However, you had no other choice but to eat it yourself and feed it to the younger children, hoping it would sustain them.

Surviving each day became a delicate balance between fulfilling your responsibilities and ensuring everyone's survival.

But one day, the Straw Hat crew, led by the fearless Monkey D. Luffy, arrived in the country with a mission to liberate the oppressed people. With their extraordinary abilities and unwavering determination, they fought against the unjust ruler and his forces, bringing hope and freedom to the once-struggling nation.

As they defeated the ruler and his regime, the people rejoiced, and a new era of peace and prosperity began to unfold.

Everyone thought it was the right decision for you to go with them. . .

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"Y/N?" A voice called you from behind, belonging to Nami.

You turned around to face Nami, a wide smile spreading across your face. "Yes, Nami?" you replied, gratitude filling your voice.

"Sanji said that the food is ready," Nami informed you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The aroma of the freshly cooked meal wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the meager rations you were accustomed to.

Your stomach growled in response to Nami's news, reminding you of the constant hunger you had endured in the orphanage. The thought of a properly cooked meal filled with nourishment made your mouth water.

As you followed Nami into the kitchen, you noticed that everyone was there, engaged in lively conversation, yet no one touched their food. It seemed as if they were waiting for someone, and curiosity piqued within you.

"Finally! There you are, Y/N!" Luffy exclaimed, his mouth drooling as he resisted from touching the meat in front of him.

You sat beside Nami, a sense of guilt washing over you as you apologized for being gone for so long.

"Now Y/N-san, why don't you taste the food first?" Sanji asked from the kitchen, prepping the last pieces of dessert.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether you deserved to be the first one to taste the food.

Usually you were the last unless you had to taste if it was edible or not.

Everyone looked at you as you scooped a spoonful of one of the dishes, but you paused. The memory of the starving children back in the orphanage flashed in your mind, and you couldn't help but feel that they deserved this meal more than you did.

"It's alright," Sanji's voice said as he was now behind you, his warm hand resting on your shoulder.

It was as if he could read your mind and understand the guilt that was consuming you.

You nodded before placing the spoon inside your mouth and swallowing it. The flavors exploded on your taste buds, a symphony of perfectly balanced spices and textures.

It was a moment of pure bliss, and as you savored each bite, you couldn't help but feel grateful that you were able to experience such a meal after years of deprivation.

The taste of the food was so exquisite that you couldn't help but let out a little dance, your body moving to the rhythm of the flavors. It was as if the nourishment had not only satisfied your hunger but also awakened a dormant joy within you.

As you twirled and swayed, the room erupted in laughter and applause, everyone delighting in your infectious happiness.

"Y/N is doing a happy dance!" Luffy exclaimed, laughing.

The meal had not only filled your stomach but also filled your soul with a newfound appreciation for the simple joys of life.

With the biggest smile on your face, you turned to Sanji, gratitude shining in your eyes, and whispered, "Thank you, Sanji. This meal is beyond anything I could have imagined."

Sanji's cheeks went from a light tint of pink to his whole face being red, dropping his cigarette in the process. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and happiness at seeing you enjoy his food so much.

It was moments like these that reminded him why he loved cooking and why he put so much passion into every dish.

"I'm glad that you like it Y/N-san," Sanji answered, his eyes filled with pure love. Shyly, he added, "I put my heart and soul into creating this meal, and seeing you enjoy it brings me immeasurable joy."

You smiled in return, completely unaware of the effect you had on Sanji. The genuine happiness that radiated from you was enough to make his heart skip a beat, and he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of purpose in his culinary endeavors.

Though it didn't go unnoticed.

"Looks like Love Cook can get shy around women," Zoro teased.

Sanji's face turned even redder as Zoro's teasing words reached his ears.

"Shut up, Mosshead!" Sanji fired back, trying to hide his embarrassment. But deep down, he couldn't deny that there was some truth to Zoro's words.

Your presence had ignited a spark within him, and he couldn't wait to continue creating culinary masterpieces that would bring joy to your heart. . . .

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Continue?

[mx-jinxous]

He was in love with a dead man.

Steve found it ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. When he was forced to find a job after his parents disowned him, the museum was the last place he’d expected to fall in love. The museum gift shop had gladly taken him in as a thank you for his family’s namesake, though Steve didn’t try to pretend interested in the way. He took the job offer, anything to pay the bills.

His current living arrangement was his car until he could save enough money back to get an apartment. Sadly with his car payment and insurance, it hardly left anything to put back, not enough to pay his phone bill for the last few months. Most days it was a toss-up for gas or food, which was going to be a harder decision with the approaching winter. Since he had to drop out of college he’d been left sneaking into the community pool to even get a shower, but soon he’d have to find other options. They started to dwindle as his friends, or rather the people who acted as such, distanced themselves when he was kicked out. He came from money and that’s all that anyone ever wanted.

His first idea was to befriend or date, but he couldn’t use them as people did to him. So he asked for more work, playing it off as expanding his knowledge and role. This led him to partner with the elderly security, who was fondly nicknamed Grey, until they could get him a trainee. Steve happily accepted it. The old man was a storyteller, even his lectures were entertaining as he drifted into stories of his kids. He often let him wander around, and that’s how he found the newest addition to the royalty wing.

They had discovered an underground burial vault, hidden beneath the remains of a castle converted into a long abandoned church. It was above Steve’s pay grade how they ever managed to acquire permission to excavate the vault. One night on his explorations the young man found the exhibit and the statue of King Kas. He ruled in the 1200 c.e., a just ruler in a conflicted era. Sadly, he existed during a blip in history, and few records have been found of his rule.

Still, the statue was handsome and mesmerizing. It was carved from marble and well cared for regardless of facing time. Surprisingly for a cold material, the eyes were warm, inviting even. It’s what kept Steve returning, making him fall. Grey had found him sometimes just talking to Kas about his problems when he came to let him out for the night. He was kind enough to offer an invite to his home whenever he needed, fatherly. He’s what he’d wished his parents were like, he cared for a boy he didn’t even know and even fed him when he didn’t have food. It was nice but also painful.

Steve spent every shift studying the statue. The king was adorned in jewelry; rings, a crown, necklaces, armlets, and bracelets filled with gemstones worth more than Steve’s parents. It only enhanced the beauty of the masterpiece, but it was truly the eyes that pulled him in. Maybe it was the dry spell in his current living situation, but he wanted to reach out and hold his face in his hands. His body was doing that on its own accord, his fingers nearly brushing its cheek when the hallway door was thrown open. Steve responded immediately, hiding behind the nearest pillar. His mind caught up with him once he was out of sight, that he and Grey were the only ones this late, still didn’t want to be caught with his hand on the exhibit.

Taking a calming breath, he stepped out and was going to give him a hard time about the scare. However, he froze when he heard more than one voice, harsh whispers echoing in the unoccupied room. Steve pressed up against the pillar, trying to be silent, trying to figure out how to alert Grey without his walkie.

So he stood there, listening to things being moved, metal clinging. “This is a goldmine. Can’t believe these idiots left it open like this, just ripe for the takin’.” A man cackled, the young man risking it to get a look at the thieves. Three of them, one stripping Kas while the other two robbed his riches.

“Shuddup. You want security up our asses?” Another snapped.

“What? That old guy probably ain’t got his hearing aid in.”

“He ain't alone dipshit. He's got that kid in here. Didn’t see him leave.” The last guy grumbled, sounding like he was struggling. “He’s not gonna be a problem. If he tries anything, I’ll show him mister pew pew.” That got Steve sweating. He needed a plan, a distraction to escape. From his vantage point, he noted the doors were close to the men, there were no windows, and the fire escape was a sprint away that gave the thieves an open shot. But the fire alarm was on the wall, parallel to him. Pulling it would alert firefighters and police, and hopefully scare the men enough to give him the opening that he needed. It was as solid as a plan he could make, but of course, he should know that life loved to make him struggle.

It came in the form of a, “Pull harder numb nuts.”, followed by a clatter. Peaking out he was met with the king's bracelet skidding past him. That’s what gave away his safe spot, the men already yelling and sprinting towards him. Steve took off, snatching the bracelet on the way to the fire alarm. He pulled it as he passed, heading towards the nearest exhibit, Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. There were plenty of places to hide, Steve choosing the curtain that framed a standing sarcophagus.

It was sheered, easy to see through, yet nearly impossible to see in the dark museum. He gripped the bracelet, trying to quiet his breathing when the men came into the room. The alarm lights flashed and blared, however, he could hear things being thrown and smashed. There was angry yelling between the three, Steve watching the best he could through the fabric. He could make out only their silhouettes, watching in horror as they destroyed parts of history, feeling powerless. Was this how it was supposed to end, hunted and afraid? A fitting end to the last shitty months.

All he knows is that he isn’t going down without a fight. The bracelet was a decent weight and could knock someone out with a strong enough swing. He hoped it was enough as the silhouettes grew closer as Steve braced for an attack.

A scream froze the moment, now four shadows appeared on the other side of the curtain. “What the hell!” The man closest to the newcomer howled before he fell, his partner's screams echoing. Gunshots rang out causing a horrified scream to escape the young man. He fell to his knees and curled up, wanting to be as small as he could. Steve couldn’t fathom, nor did he want to attempt, the horrifying noises on the other side. There were screams and then silence.

He could only hope that the perpetrator didn’t find him- but once again life loved to beat him down. The curtain was pulled back, giving him an up-close view of the mystery man. Steve met with those warm eyes that once brought him comfort, now a sign of terror as Kas stood, marble painted in blood. He wanted to beg, to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a whimper. The statue took a step forward and the younger man fell back, trying to push himself as far away from the creature.

Not taking the hint, Kas knelt in front of him, reaching out toward him. He dropped his sword as fingers brushed against Steve’s cheek, causing him to flinch at the cold stone. It was silent between the two, aside from the blaring alarm, leaving them staring at one another. Pulling back his hand, Kas scooped the young man up without warning. A squeak escaped him, fear keeping his mouth bound as he was carried through the blood-drenched room to the king's exhibit. There he was gently sitting on the edge of the stone coffin that had been cracked open to show the interior. The body had been removed before the exhibit had opened so there was no fear of a zombie popping up. Just Steve and Stone Kas.

Steve was balancing himself the best he could while stone eyes studied up and down his body. They stopped on the bracelet still gripped in his hands, causing him to fumble trying to hold it up to the marble man.

“H-Here! I-I didn’t mean to take it, but I kept it safe. See, no damage.” He shook as the statue took the bracelet, examining it closely. Steve sat there, just waiting until Kas saw fit that the bracelet was fine. He hesitated with any noise or movement, not wanting to earn the creature's ire. He wished to disappear, to be locked behind his car doors on the other side of the country, just out of the king's sight.

Unfortunately, that wish quickly broke when Kas wrapped his hand gently around Steve’s upper arm. He watched in horror and confusion as the bracelet slid onto his wrist, giving the man his first clear look at the jewelry. It was a thick gold band with some basic designs carved in it, a bright red gem enclosed in it. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, even Kas seemed to think so as a smile came to the carved face.

“Yeah, i-it’s a lovely piece, but sadly I’m not a jewelry guy.” His nervous chuckle was cut short when the smile fell, his body tensing as it was just them in silence once more. “Please-.” He whimpered.

A sob broke free when Kas leaned in, his cold lips pressing into his forehead. “Te videre iterum, amore mea.” He whispered, pulling back enough to peer down into Steve’s eyes. Without warning he was shoved back into the coffin, the lid pulled over without a struggle.

“Shit.” He mumbled, trying to push the stone lid off to no avail. “Shit! No, no, shit!” He screamed, pounding against the marble. Panicked tears dripped down his cheeks as he kept trying to push to top off. “I- I ca-. I can’t breathe! Please let me out! Please Kas!”

There was no telling how long he was screaming for, but no one came to his rescue. The fight left him abruptly as the situation set in. He was stuck in a stone prison, running out of air, no one knowing where he went. No one would notice him missing until much later after he suffocated. This was how he was going to die, as a nobody.

Steve went to cover his face, only to be splashed with water. He sat there, horrified at the thought that he was bleeding, but no. His body was sitting in water, the coffin filling at a ridiculous rate. He no longer had to wait to suffocate, now he was going to drown long before that.

A new panicked fueled fire filled his stomach, his legs coming up to kick at the lid. He figured if water was getting in, there was a chance he wasn’t completely sealed in. His head was underwater while he kicked with all his might. Soon it started sliding with each kick, giving way to enough space for his body to squeeze through. He wasted no time, the water weighing him down as he pulled himself free.

It was dark aside from a flickering archway, his body freezing as he took a minute to catch his breath. He could tell he was no longer in the museum, the only light seeming to be the only exit. A groan escaped Steve’s lips as he pulled himself towards the light, coming to a spiral staircase that only went up. It was illuminated by torches on the wall, the only warmth in this dark room. Freedom was near, and though his body wanted to give in to rest, Steve pressed on. His body ached, each step taken with a struggling limp that made the trip feel like hours.

He nearly cried when he saw the doorway, a light illuminating the stairs. He was ready for bed, or maybe he’d try to hit Grey up for a shower to get all the death dust off of him. If he was lucky, this was all a horny-induced nightmare.

That came to head when the universe decided to remind him once more of his shit luck. When he walked out of the doorway he was greeted with a group of swords pointed at him, surrounding him. His body was aching, fighting to stay standing as another wave of armored people came in. Trying to take a step back Steve’s body gave out, a mumbled “Fucking bullshit.”, escaping before he hit the ground. His world went dark once more.

________________

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Chapter 1| Chapter 2

[jjcanwrite]

Under The Moonlight /|\ An ateez × reader fic

Under The Moonlight ~ Chapter I

Pairing: OT8Demi-wolfAteez! × HumanReader! (Mingi focus in this chapter)

Sypnosis: It's about midwinter in the forest you reside in, that time of year where it's absolutely beautiful to watch in during the day but the worst frustration to go through at night. A forgotten lanter turns into a forgotten home, and you quickly find yourself in the tight grip of none other than Song Mingi, a young wolf in the pack you met a few months ago, who has every intention to bring you back to the pack's closing and finally keep you there..~

Series content warnings!: heavy but not dark concepts like violence, insecurities, mental health, slight depictions of gore, mentions of blades, etc - Polygamy - Eventually smut- Animalistic/hybrid tendencies e.i, marking, heats/ruts, scents/scenting, clingy behavior, growling, the boys do have tails,ears,and heightened senses, ect. - Reader does develop some kind of animal mindset after marking (this will be elaborated on later. It's kind of like a second sex but..not.)

Chapter warnings: Kidnapping (but not really.) - very, VERY slight threatening behavior from Mingi (reader doesn't feel threatened, just startled), Joong is kinds mad at Mingi towards the end but not majorly, overall this chapter is pretty tame 🧍‍♀️

A/N: I will be making separate posts about how this universe works!! Please feel free to ask any and all questions because I will give them an answer 🙂‍↕️

Word count:1500-1600

Your feet are gentle on the smooth stones of your cottages path, the air is chilly and slow as it is every harvest season. The problem is, it's dark, really dark.

Maybe it's just the trees and all their leaves that are blocking out the moonlight, but the sky is also cloudy and hazed. The wind in the air is absent, but you can see your breath get wipped into a white cloud of cold smoke with every exhale.

You usually wouldn't even be out at this time of night, especially not at this time of year, and you wouldn't be out now if it wasn't for that stupid lamp you left out early that evening.

It's just entering winter, which means it's time to collect all of the lost hay, lamps, and clear out this year's harvests (which really isn't much for you considering that you live close enough to the village to attend the market). But, this time of year it's also hunting season. For..the wolf's, that is.

Now, you normally aren't very fearful of the demi-wolfs in your area, they're actually quite peaceful and friendly if you take the time to get to know them, but..it's different during hunting season. They hunt for all kinds of things, food, shelter, mates, more food. They just hunt, that's what the season is for! But, they almost enter a state of ferality during this time of year. The thoughts become more primal, more instintual and the pack near you, which also happened to be the pack you were closest with, had made it clear the year before that you could never be to sure if they looked at you with intentions of eating you or marking you as their own.

It was..the ateez pack..or something. You didn't really remember. Most of them seemed much more interested in the warm, peachy scent you radiated rather than anything they felt the need to say.

You figured most things out yourself from the eldest two, who had rightfully informed you of all the information you needed. The wolf's names, how they handled the changing of the seasons, their positions and responsibilities within the pack. Honestly, you weren't sure why they told you all of this, they talked to you as if you were the newest addition to their group and while you flattered, you did think it was a tad odd for them to warm up to you so quickly. Especially one of the younger ones..

Mingi, that was his name. He was the most intimidating looking out of the eight of them. He was tall, well built, but could not keep his mouth shut to save his life. He was also a bit handsy..not in a rude way, of course! But more that he often tended to forget the aspect of personal space. He always had a hand on you, your shoulder, your thigh, your hair, sometimes even drifting down to lock his fingers in with yours. You yourself didn't mind that much, but it always seemed to annoying the rest of the pack members with how touchy he was.

Another thing you learned about Mingi was that he was also rumored to wander about at night the most. "Couldn't sleep", is what he'd always tell you when you found him just a few couple trees outside of your cottage, sometimes you'd even catch San wandering around with him. It did freak you out the first one or two times, but you knew the clumsy giant didn't mean any harm, so you just let him wander without much question.

When you had finally made it to your small lamp left ontop of a tree stump a gentle sigh of relief fell from your lips, you hand quickly grabbing hold of the handle and pulling it up above your head so you could finally see properly-

but your hand never made contact.

The already dying flame burst into nothing but soft smoke, the overpowering scent of oak wood and sage found its way into your nostrils, the smallest hint of sea salt and an aggressive spike of spice filled your senses in a strong gust of wind. An arm came to strongly wrap around your waist, pulling you back and against a tall, firm chest. You knew it the second you had smelt him, it was Mingi, but something was different about his scent. Everything that was normally there still was, but the spice was new. His scent was normally very calm and musky but the spice in it was aggravated and new. Not to mention the wolf-boy's hold on you was much firmer than it usually was. He usually held you like an expensive peice of glass, something that needed to be held with care or would immediately shatter, but the hold he had on you now was that of posession..it was like he was afraid to let you go, afraid to loose your form against his.

His breathing was stuffy and heavy, his ears were pointed and stood tall, and his tail flicked insatiable behind him. There was an underlying growl in his chest, not one you could hear but one you could feel against your back. His hands twitched, clenching and unclenching around the fabric of your clothes. Before you could even process everything correctly he had stuffed his face into the crook of your neck, a small whine leaving him at your scent.

You could feel his canines poke at his lower lip, the low, desperate whine in his throat making it clear how much he was struggling not to dig the enamle into your soft skin.

You just smelt so damn good. He couldn't think properly, all of his thoughts jumbled and incoherent. With how you fit so perfectly into his arms, how your body felt pressed against his, how you smelt against his nose, the only thing he could thing about was taking you back home and keeping you there forever. You were his. You belonged to the pack. He had scented you ages ago which you hadn't noticed yet. It was widely known that demi-wolfs would share everything with their pack, so the second he had left his scent on you you had been claimed as theirs.

He felt bad. He felt so guilty wherever he would think about it. He claimed you without your consent, scenting you was almost as possessive as actually marking you, and it didn't just 'go away'. The thoughts of upsetting you hurt him more than whatever warmth was coursing through his blood right now, but the thought of loosing you, especially if it was to some pitiful human, hurt him even more than that.

He couldn't let you go. He couldn't loose you. They couldn't loose you.

Quickly, you feel his arm scoop under your legs, and before you can question anything or protest to his actions he tucks you into his chest and bolts. You know very well where he's going, having walked the path to the pack's cave many times, and as much as you trust him to get you there safely you can't help but be startled.

Any protest you make falls on deaf, fluffy ears. The speed of his movement generating more air than you'd walked through that whole night. It doesn't take him any more than 3 minutes to get to the pack's opening, the mixed scents they all carry finding your nose. They all lacked the spice that Mingi's had acquired, maybe it was something he was wearing? A plant he had eaten..maybe?

However, what was more important was the way Mingi shifted you to being laid over his shoulder. His arms moved to the top of your thigh and the middle of your pack, holding you down on him with the obvious intent of keeping you there.

He didn't pay any mind to the things around him, much more focused on getting you in the core of his den, with the rest of the pack, where you belonged. The only thing that made his pause was a sharp, distinct shout of his name coming from no one but the pack's caption

Hongjoong.

"Mingi! What- what the fuck are you doing!?"

Dispite his size, Hongjoong was the most commanding person you had ever seen, however despite his reputation he was also one of the most comforting. He always seemed to have an answer to every question you asked..even if you were 98% sure he got most of those answers from Seonghwa..

The older wolf's words seemed to snap Mingi out of whatever trance he was in, or at least redirect his attention. Even in whatever..thing..he had going on, he recognized the authority Hongjoong had. It gave you at least a little hope that he'd put you down soon, your stomach was starting to hurt :(

A small yelp let your lips as Mingi lifted you off his shoulder setting you down infront of him and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His ears had flattened slightly, and you could feel the pout on his lips as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

"I brought a gift.."

~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~•♡•~

Taglist:

@mimikittysblog

[kirain]

I honestly don’t know who to scream about this to so I’m here in your DM’s as an anon~ but how do you think Emmrich would react if he saw how mages are treated in the south? Harding and Emmrich go on a little camping trip to the south at some point, so it got me wondering! Especially how necromancy is viewed down there!

Hello!

In game, Emmrich does seem painfully aware of how differently he's viewed. When you speak to him for the first time in his study, he mentions wanting to "make a good impression", saying he noticed how some of the companions side-eyed Manfred or whispered about his skulls. He knows Nevarran culture is considered "weird" outside the kingdom, and he's considerate enough that he takes steps to ensure he doesn't make anyone feel uncomfortable.

I do think all Nevarrans are aware of this as well, as they tend to keep to themselves. Don't forget, they broke off from Tevinter and fought to implement their own laws and practices. For example (and I do wish Veilguard had explored this more), Tevinter basically runs on slavery, but Nevarra banned and is vehemently against slavery. They're also one of the most devout kingdoms in Thedas, hence the necromancy. In my opinion, it would've been nice if the devs had Emmrich go into detail about why Nevarrans place so much importance on the dead—and for anyone who doesn't know, it's because they believe you need to be "whole" in order to join the Maker beyond the Veil and avoid being possessed by a demon.

Cassandra goes into some detail in DAI, but as a Nevarran estranged from her own culture, her views on necromancy (and mages in general) are pretty negative. She was raised by her uncle, who was a member of the Mortalitasi, after her parents were executed, but she grew to resent him because he spent more time with the dead than with her and her brother. In addition, he kept them locked up in the Grand Necropolis, which she called a "smelly gilded cage". She admits to both Varric and Dorian that she thinks necromancy is bizarre, so she's a pretty unreliable narrator, but she also confirms that Nevarrans know how they're regarded by the rest of the world.

As for how mages are treated in the South, Emmrich seems aware of that, too. There's some party banter where he speaks to Neve about mage independence and their influence on politics, and he simply says "politicing does happen" but he's not interested in it, even in knowing that mages don't have that kind of power elsewhere. Plus, at the end of Dragon Age II, all mages throughout Thedas became apostates—and Veilguard takes place about twelve years later—so even if he came across any mage-haters while travelling with Harding, they wouldn't be able to do anything to him. He'd probably talk them down or break all their bones if they tried. 😏

Overall, I think he'd react with sass or sophistication if someone truly pressed him about his necromancy, which does happen a few times in game. He's a kind person by nature, but if he saw any actual injustices, I don't think he'd take it lying down. That said, he seems happy in his own little world, having hardly ever left Nevarra or the Grand Necropolis, though he is eager to expand his knowledge. At one point, he does say he's envious of Rook for being so worldly and experienced, but he also ends up feeling extremely homesick and wanting to go back; which makes sense since he credits the Mourn Watch for saving him and the Necropolis seems to be his safe space. He's just a peppy older man living his best life with his peppy little skeletons.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 5

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 4

“Here you go, Sir, enjoy your coffee, come again soon!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperated sigh that escaped him after the last cup was handed to the last customer, an older man who wouldn’t stop asking him questions about which caulk was best to use for the small project he was DIY-ing. Joel must’ve extended his hand with the coffee in it towards him five times before the man finally took it, very quickly flipping the ‘open’ sign to close before plopping himself on the lone stool you had offered him before.

“How do you do this every day? My jaw, my cheeks are killing me feom smiling too much! And don’t even ask about my back!” he rubbed his face, massaging his jaw and cheeks with both hands, cracking his back and neck a few times.

“Don’t you hammer things for a living? I can’t do that to save my own life!”

“Pfft… I don’t do all that anymore. People do that for me. I just tell people what to do.” There was a look on his face when he said that. A longing one, perhaps?

“You’re telling me you would’ve been okay doing that on your own if I hadn’t stayed?”

You nodded, hands busy cleaning the machine, running hot water out to clean it of any residue.

He got back up, “Can I do anything to help?”

“Oh, no, you are not touching my very expensive machine, sir.”

“How do you keep the truck safe? Aren’t you worried someone might break in, steal the machine?”

“My apartment has very good security, so does the truck. I made sure to invest in that.”

“Where do you live?”

You told him, and he just whistled. He threw the rag on the counter, asking you if he could buy you lunch.

“Taco truck, next door. Tell Tony it’s for me.”

He tipped his hat at you, leaving to get the tacos.

You finished cleaning, wiping everything down, taking not much time at all. You’ve done this daily for a long time, it was all on autopilot. By the time you rinsed all the rags, Joel was back, bags of tacos in hand, asking you if you would join him for lunch. The two of you ate and chatted, mainly about the tacos, but also about the rec centre itself. Sarah had been here a lot, volunteering. Ellie too, obviously. But he had only dropped them off and picked them up. You suggested he should visit. They do amazing work with underprivileged kids. He looked as if he was genuinely contemplating it.

“I have to apologize for something else now,” he told you, wiping his mouth after everything was demolished. “I never knew selling coffee could be that tiring. I don’t know why. But that was…” he stopped talking, rubbing his own shoulder and neck. “And how the heck do you keep a smile on at all times like that? I watched you. You are always smiling when talking to the customers. How do you do that?”

You shrugged, “Been doing this since I can remember. My Dad didn’t have a helper early on, so he would keep me in a sling across his chest as he served his customers. I just grew up in a café, smiled at customers since I could. A smile goes a long way when you’re in service. It was something my Dad did a lot, so I sort of just caught the habit, I guess.”

“Your Dad was a barista too? Which café?”

You told him. He nodded. There were a few of those cafés all over LA. He had even seen them in New York.

“You’ve always worked in cafés?”

“Yeah… since I was old enough to know you shouldn’t touch boiling water with your bare hands.”

He looked taken aback. “Isn’t that child labour or something?”

You laughed. “He didn’t hire me, exactly, he just let me help. Learn the ropes.”

“Is he retired now?”

“He did a few years back. Passed not long after.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He’s still with me. That’s why my stepmom and I started the truck. He loved his job. I feel like he’s here whenever I make a cup, you know?”

He nodded. “It’s why I started building in the first place. My Papa was a labourer slash carpenter. He practically built all of our furniture. He helped me build my first project – a small recipe box for my Mama. Been building stuff since. I did the TV stuff at first for the steady income, you know? I was alone, I had to think about Sarah, and then when everything blew up it just got so… invasive. Fake. It’s all about the viewership. No one gives a damn about the work anymore. It’s just… I don’t know. Doing this job used to make me feel closer to my Papa, but now… I just feel like my life has turned into a circus, you know? Everything’s just hyped. Sexualized. I don’t get the same rush I used to get from doing this work anymore. I just dread going to work now. The more exposure, the more invasion there will be, the less close I feel to my Papa.”

You listened, feeling a bit sad for him.

“That’s why I was so rude to you that first time. I didn’t mean to be, you know, I’m so sorry about that. It’s just, every time a stranger taps me on my shoulder it’s to ask for a selfie or something. You saw that girl the other day. She just leaned in, right up against my chest and snapped a picture. No respect for my personal space at all. I was literally standing at a urinal once and someone just whipped their phone out to take a picture with me.”

Your eyes literally went round with shock. Seriously? Okay, that was so much worse than being sent to some organic store to buy a packet of sugar for one teaspoon, or even counting 100 drips of espresso, for that matter.

“So when you tapped me on my shoulder…”

You nodded, hand still over your mouth, seeing his point of view. You already knew this, Ellie had told you. But when it came from the horse’s mouth… particularly Joel, who you had only seen as a grumpy, moody, seemingly entitled man, looking extremely uncomfortable at the mere mention of these happenings, you sort of get it.

“God, Joel…” you rubbed your face, cringing a little at how much you had judged him. “I’m sorry too… I just… having lived here all my life, I’ve met all kinds of celebrities, you know? Most are actually nice… but the ones who are not…”

It was his turn to nod. “Tell me about it. I have to work with some sometimes – for special episodes. God… the entitlement!”

You rolled your eyes.

“I know, right? ‘I’m famous, I don’t need to pay.’ Girl…”

He laughed as you sneered, copying said celebrity so well he actually recognized who you were talking about, head thrown back, free, loose, relaxed.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” he said, leaning on the small foldable table you set out front. “Where do you get your beans? That coffee… how is it bitter but sweet at the same time?”

You zipped your mouth, locked it, and threw away the key.

“Oh, come on…”

“Nope. Trade secret, that. Passed down to me by my father, and I am never sharing it!”

“You mean, you roast your own beans?”

“Of course I do! What do you take me for, Joel Miller?”

He looked impressed. “Will you sell me a bag?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, come on! I’ll pay anything!”

“Careful what you wish for. If I can charge you 40 bucks for a cup of coffee, just imagine what I would charge for a whole bag of beans,” you joked, getting up to throw the paper plate out, wiping the table with your free hand as you did.

He got up and began helping you fold the chairs and tables, loading them in the cargo space under the sill. You closed everything up, handed him the mill he brought, and got into the driver seat of your truck. He waited for you to get in and closed the door for you.

“It was nice spending time with you today, Mr Miller. Thank you for helping me out, and for lunch. Should I pay you now, or should I just give Ellie a raise?”

He smiled, his dimple showing, and shook his head. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, when I come for my cuppa. Since you won’t sell the beans to me.”

You laughed and thanked him again for helping you out that day. You turned to him one last time and gave him a smile. Joel’s heart stopped beating. There was something different about that smile, he thought. It wasn’t the smile you gave your customers.

He took a step back from the truck and raised his free hand, standing in that spot until your truck turned the corner and went out of his sight, the mill he brought held tightly to his chest.

Joel Miller drove all the way home before realizing that he hadn’t stopped smiling at all since you left.

“So, the plan was successful?” Sarah asked, painting her toenail as she spoke into the phone propped on a box she had packed and unpacked for the millionth time.

“Well, he went, left at seven-ish and he hasn’t come back, so I’m just waiting with breath that is bated. God just don’t come back angrier, that’s all I’m hoping for,” Ellie shoved another mouthful of chips into her mouth, cringing a little at the vinegary taste.

“I still can’t believe he yelled at Lil. Of all people! You know Lil hates celebrities? Tony told me. One came to the rec centre once, apparently for some supposed volunteer thing for his community service, the guy made a scene, obviously high from something – climbed into her truck started snacking on coffee beans like nuts – Tony swore Lil chased him out with an airgun. I’m just thankful all she did was overcharge Dad for coffee and not tear his face off or something.”

Ellie snorted, “Imagine how mad Angela would be if that were to happen. Money making face and all...”

“I don’t know… he’s been thinking of quitting. Doesn’t want to continue his contract, apparently.”

Ellie sat up. She took the mug she was using and propped her phone up, looking at her big sister with wide eyes. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

Sarah moved closer to the phone, looked around a bit, as if worried Joel might suddenly burst through her door miles and miles away at any moment. “Don’t tell him this, but Angela called me. Begged me to talk him out of retiring. I mean, she wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t said something, right?”

Ellie rolled her eyes. She did not like that woman. Neither did Sarah. She had a problem with Ellie from the start. Pulled Sarah aside and tried to stop her from volunteering at the rec centre, not wanting her to mix with the ‘riffraff’ there. Anytime Ellie was within her vicinity before the adoption, she looked at Ellie with a look that said she smelled bad.

When Joel decided to take her in, Angela went all out to stop him. Did a background check on her mom and dad, smugly presenting her findings to Joel. Sarah remembered like it was yesterday. “Bad breeds bad,” she had told him. “She’s the daughter of a drug addict and a criminal, Joel. Bad enough that Sarah is seen with her a lot, God knows what she could pull Sarah into, but now you want to legally invite her to stay with you? She’ll rob you blind Joel! I’m only looking out for you,” she had simpered, a supposedly concerned look on her pulled-too-tight face.

Joel didn’t listen, thankfully. When the public found out, Joel got so much publicity from it, his name was everywhere. He was ‘Daddy’, hot, responsible, good hearted, basically a handy hunk that women couldn’t get out of their heads. Suddenly, adopting Ellie was the most brilliant idea ever. In fact, she might have talked Joel into doing it, at least, that’s what she told Twitter back then. She had always known Ellie was his good luck charm, she crooned to Joel when she came to the house unannounced with a big bag of donated clothing, most of which were far too small and girly for Ellie, pinching her cheeks. Ellie was only 12, but she remembered recoiling away from the obviously fake lady, in both manners and physique, determined to stay away from her as much as she could.

Angela also pitched the idea for a reality show – Meet the Millers, where cameras follow their day to day lives. Imagine the money! That got shut down really quickly, even Tommy was barking at her. He may like the money, but no one touches his nieces. Even he wouldn’t stoop that low, he had told her.

So no, the girls didn’t like Angela. And no, Sarah wasn’t going to talk her Dad into signing on for five more years. Ellie certainly wouldn’t. They wanted him to rest. Relax. Settle down. Be happy. If he wanted to continue working, let it be on his own terms. Something that he would be happy to do, not something he would be forced to do. The girls may think he’s the grumpiest, most stubborn man to ever live, but they were fiercely protective of their Dad. And nothing Angela could do or say would sway them.

“What do you think he would do, if he really does retire?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t know. But I can’t imagine he would want to stay here. Would you be okay if he decides to leave LA?” Sarah was worried, changing school, making new friends, that’s a lot of change.

“I’ll follow him anywhere, you know that.”

Sarah smiled, “Well, I’m…”

“Oh shit!” Ellie scrambled. “He’s back. Fuck! Do I look sick?”

“Erm, no… you look like you’ve had too many chips, but otherwise…”

“Shh… he’s coming in,” Ellie picked up her phone, screen towards her torso, lying on the couch, blanket all the way up to her chest, doing her best to look sick.

“Ellie…” Sarah whispered. Another shush.

“Hey, old man,” Ellie croaked as Joel waltzed in, carrying the mill. He placed it on the coffee table, coming towards Ellie to check her temperature.

“You feeling better kiddo?”

Ellie opened her mouth to answer.

“Great! Rest up! Work tomorrow!” Joel was already turning around to go to his room, whistling as he did, a little jig in his steps. He looked at her over his shoulder and winked at her, his whistling now morphed into a humming, continuing his little waltz as he went up to his room, closing the door behind him.

Ellie shot up, her phone still clutched to her chest.

“Ellie! What’s going on?” Sarah’s whispers were filled with urgency.

Ellie looked at her sister, looking perplexed. “Sarah, I think we need a doctor.”

“What? Why? Is he okay? Are you really sick?”

“He was… whistling… and Sarah…” she paused, looking worried as heck, she leaned in and whispered, “He sorta did a little jig... and I swear he was humming!”

Sarah didn’t say anything. She looked troubled. Her Dad, humming? And doing little dances?

Shit.

What the fuck happened?

The next morning, Ellie woke up to a very enthusiastic banging on her door. Wake up kiddo! Don’t wanna be late! She groaned, jumped out of bed and had a quick shower – all about 30 minutes too early compared to the usual time, but maybe Joel had somewhere to be? It wouldn’t be the first time. His schedule can vary a lot, but wasn’t he on a break?

She walked out to Joel shoving a packet of pop tart and a granola bar into her pack, a buttered toast into her hand, telling her she was late. Let’s go!

She walked out into the garage to him standing next to an open passenger door, frantically gesturing for her to get inside, practically shoving her in as she climbed her way up to the seat. He checked the door really quickly before running to the driver side, muttering ‘come on, come on…’ as the garage door slowly opened,

He drove the way he usually did, but his fingers were drumming on the steering wheel every time they hit a red light. The man just looked odd. Ellie was worried.

“You okay?”

Joel looked at her, lips scrunched up, nodding as if he was behaving that way every single day, foot immediately on the gas pedal as soon as the light turned green. When he finally pulled to a stop at the rec centre, he leaned across Ellie and opened the door for her, the teenager still stunned at how keen this man was to be rid of her.

“Will you chill? My class doesn’t start for another 30 minutes. I’m gonna go get iced tea from Lil. You want coffee?”

He went quiet. All jitters stopped. “Uh… sure. Tell her I want the usual. The expresso thing.”

“ESpresso,” she corrected, as she climbed down the truck, mumbling she had no idea how he could drink that every day.

Joel waited for her to disappear around the corner before letting his head fall on the steering wheel. Shit. Now he had to wait for her to come back and go back inside before he could see you again. He looked at his watch, feet tap-tapping on the floor of the cab. God, why was she taking so long?

He took his phone and dialled Sarah’s number, the young lady picking up after only two rings, face all swollen and sleepy still.

“Dad, everything okay?”

“Yeah, just calling to see how the packing is going. You sure you don’t want me to go get you?”

“Yeah… I’m sure. I’m all packed, Dad. Just a few loose things I’m just gonna throw in my backpack at the last min… what are you searching around for?” she asked, her Dad clearly jittery, his eyes looking around as if he was worried some mafia head was gonna pop up and off him.

Joel refocused on his daughter, a bit embarrassed to be caught. “Just waiting for Ellie to come back with my coffee. Need coffee, that’s all. Machine’s busted again.”

“Uhuh… so you just need coffee? And then you’ll go back to your old self?” she questioned, looking wary as heck, side-eyeing her Dad on the FaceTime.

“What are you talking about? I’m my old self.”

“Okay…”

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked her, determined to focus on his daughter now. “I’m excited to see you! We should have a cookout. Maybe go somewhere before you start your internship?”

“Uh… The three of us plan to start driving before dawn, stop for breakfast on the way, drive a few more hours and stop for lunch, get to Lindsey’s, spend the night, and then start again the morning after. Drop Jenna off at her place and I should be home around dinner time.”

“Anything special you want for dinner?”

“Sushi. Please. And that ramen from that place.”

“Okay. You call me before you leave, okay? I don’t care what time. And take turns driving. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“Yes Dad… I know… How are you enjoying your break so far?”

“Well, it’s only been a few days… I… oh, my coffee’s here. Hang on.”

Sarah watched as he wound his window down, eager hand claiming his coffee from Ellie. He tilted the phone towards Ellie, who took the phone out of his hand, saying hi to Sarah. “Watch,” she whispered to Sarah, clicking on the reverse camera feature, focusing on Joel as he took his first greedy sip, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, tilting his head back to rest it on the headrest, an unwitting smile on his face.

Sarah watched as her Dad smiled, looking all… something… she didn’t recognize this. She had never seen him like this. And the whistling and the jigging and now this… over a sip of coffee. No wonder Ellie was worried. She was too, now that she’s seen the evidence.

Joel was struck by the silence, he opened his eyes, looking questionably at Ellie, who quickly clicked on the reverse camera button again, “Sarah, can you hear me? I think your line is patchy. I can’t hear you… you’ve frozen… I’ll call you later okay?” She quickly hung up and gave Joel the phone. “I’ll call her back…” she mumbled, standing there, just waiting to see what he was going to do. Joel looked flustered for a bit, reaching out to give her head a rub before putting the truck into reverse and driving away.

Ellie took out her phone and dialled Sarah’s number. She picked up before the first ring was over.

“You saw that, right?”

Joel drove around the rec centre before turning back into the parking lot, relieved Ellie was no longer there. He glanced at his watch again, the tap-tapping was back. He class wouldn’t start for ten more minutes. He looked around the truck for something to do until then, just to be safe. He didn’t want Ellie asking too many questions.

He had no idea what was happening. He just knew he wanted to be here. He took another sip of the coffee, his insides warming up, that smile back on his face. This must be why he wanted to come here. Yesterday, he was standing for hours, his back hurt, but he just felt at peace. Must be the smell of coffee. It calmed him down. He took another sip, savouring the somehow still sweet bitterness that took over his senses.

When was the last time he felt this at ease? God, he couldn’t remember. Maybe… when he was a kid? When he was sick and his Mama and Papa slept on either side of him? He felt as if he was all bundled up in a protective blanket, like everything would be alright, he would be alright, whatever came. He just wanted to savour that feeling for as long as he could, before life came after him again.

And if being at that truck, breathing in the glorious smell of coffee was what it took, he was more than willing to go back and suffer through the back pain and aching cheeks once more.

He finally got out of his truck, locked it and walked towards your truck. He could already see you smiling at your long line of customers, joking around with them. He took yet another sip of his coffee, jogged a little towards you, climbing into your truck, absent-mindedly taking the spare apron hanging on the hook and put it on, placing the hat he brought with him on his head. You lectured him about taking it off the day before, so yeah, he was keeping it on today.

You were shocked he was there, to say the least, but you were busy, and he did behave himself the day before. So you moved out from behind the till and took your spot in front of the machine, ready to make the next order.

You had no idea how, but the two of you worked well together. The truck was small, but somehow it wasn’t cramped with both of you in it. He learnt that till quickly, only making a few mistakes the day before, and you quickly fixed them, and he never repeated the same mistake twice.

About half an hour later, the line slowed. He went outside after the last person took their drink and began clearing up the tables for you. You leaned on the window, watching him sing along to the tunes Tony had on, shaking your head a little, wondering why on earth this man had decided to return and torture himself again.

“So… not that I’m not appreciative,” you called out to him, “But what the heck are you doing here Miller?”

He tossed the empty cups in the trash, a wide smile directed at you as he walked back towards the truck, tossing the rag he was holding on the sill, resting his elbow on it. “You don’t mind, do you? I have nothing to do. I’m bored. Sarah won’t be here for two more days, Ellie’s out for the class, have a heart…” he pleaded.

You jokingly contemplated his plea. “Do I have to pay you?”

“Just that cup of coffee.”

“Deal.”

The two of you shook on it. A customer came to the sill, asking for an iced tea. He ran back up into the truck, keying it in, and asked if he could watch you make the tea, maybe he could help with the non-machine-touching drinks? You let him, telling him exactly how much tea to put, how much hot water, brewing time, the likes.

Joel listened, taking everything in. The amount of tea. The hot water. The brewing time. The way your lips moved. The way your dimples played peekaboo. The way your ponytail swayed as you moved. The way the neckline of your blouse today gave him little peeks of your skin.

When the tea was ready, you turned around to give it to the customer, asking her how the baby was. You chatted with her for a bit, leaning on the counter below the window. Joel couldn't help continue studying you... how your legs were crossed together at the ankle, how your ass…

Wait… stop it.

Joel picked up a rag and wiped the counter you had just wiped again, just to have something else to do that didn’t involve staring at your ass, perfectly jutting out for his viewing pleasure, swaying a little as you laughed with your regular, clad in the perfect pair of jeans that hugged your curves just right.

You turned around to face him, took the rags off the counters and his hands, and went to the small sink you had to wash them. He stood next to you, watching you wash them, earning him a light-hearted jab from you – what, you want to learn the art of washing rags too? He laughed, telling you that he might just. Maybe coffee truck rags had a different method of cleaning.

“Joel?”

The two of you turned around. Ellie was standing in the doorway of the truck, looking at Joel as if he had two heads. “What are you doing here?”

Joel stood up straight, his hand went straight for his cup of coffee, now empty, and took a sip of air. He flustered a bit.

“I think the question is, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” he blubbered, a hand on his hip, the other awkwardly on the counter.

“Frank has car trouble. Class is postponed. I thought I’d work ‘til you pick me up. I thought you had something to do?”

“Erm… my thing got cancelled,” he managed to say.

“Oh, so maybe we can go watch a movie or something? You’re okay if I don’t work today, right Lil?”

You nodded. You understood. Ellie had always told you Joel was a busy man. He really should be spending time with her when he could.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Joel said, trying hard to hide his disappointment from his youngest daughter. He began to untie his apron, missing Ellie’s widened eyes upon noticing that he had it on.

“Hey Lil?” Tony called out, walking up to the window. “My cousin just called me for some food for his office, he also ordered coffee, do you mind? Pickup in 30 minutes,” he said, forwarding you a list of orders on your phone.

Joel retied his apron, pushing Ellie out of the truck, telling her to wait for him at the tables. Maybe practice drawing the truck. He’ll be right with her.

Ellie sat waiting with her phone in her hand, filming her grumpy adopted father who hated fancy, thieving coffee chains help you with the order, keying in the order, labelling the cups, readying the to-go bags, he even filled in a smaller bag with sugar and creamer packets, complete with those fiddly stirrers he made fun of at least a thousand times in the few years she had been living with him.

When he was finally done, Ellie watched as Joel Miller took off the apron, telling you he would see you the next day, before turning around to walk away with a nervous look on his face, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He turned back to face you as he took out his phone and sheepishly asked for your number, “So I could text you if I can’t make it,” he said. He waited patiently as you keyed in your number, and immediately texted you something, smiling widely as he heard your phone ping.

Ah… Ellie immediately texted Sarah.

‘I think your Dad has a crush on my boss.’

To say you were in a jam was an understatement. Your showerhead decided that today, of all days, was the perfect day to shoot out of its socket and spray water everywhere. The super was out of town. You called your plumber, but he said the earliest he could get there was after lunch. He was booked solid. Relax, he told you, you’ll be fine ‘til then.

You texted Ellie, telling her that your shower broke and you wouldn’t be working today. Please let Joel know. You were about to toss the phone on your bed when the phone immediately pinged.

‘Send me your location’

‘Why?’

‘We have a plumber, he can get to you now.’

Your fingers had never worked faster. You sent her the location and your apartment number, going back into the bathroom to empty the bucket you’d placed under the shower. The last thing you needed was a flooded bathroom.

You were disappointed. You had never wanted to go to work more than you did today. You didn’t know why exactly. Your heart just felt… heavy. You felt guilty… or something… for not being able to go in today. You wondered why.

Ah… Joel texted you last night asking if there was a chance you would teach him to brew a good cup of coffee, just so he could have one daily when summer was over and Ellie no longer needed to go to the art class. He won’t even touch the machine, he promised. Just teach him how.

You promised him you would, and now you had to break that promise. You just hated disappointing people, that’s all.

Yeah. That must be it. That’s why you were disappointed you couldn’t go in.

The doorbell rang, so you placed the bucket back in its place and ran to open the door.

Joel Miller was standing outside your door, a toolbox in his hands. His face lit up when he saw you, but then suddenly snapped shut awkwardly, turning his body around.

It was only then you realized you were standing in front of him in your sleep shirt.

Your white sleep shirt. Your wet, white, sleep shirt.

With nothing underneath but a pair of panties. Your nipples were sticking to your wet shirt, which was now basically see through.

You ran inside, yelling your apologies, telling him to come in, grabbing a bathrobe and putting it on, trying hard to laugh your embarrassment away. He didn’t answer, and when you went to the door, his tool box was there, but he wasn’t. The riot that was your spraying shower went quiet, and he came back after a few seconds, telling you he shut the water line for your house – easier for him to work, he said.

There was still water dripping from the shower, but he fixed it within 15 minutes, coming out of your bathroom with water trickling down from his hair onto his neck, coming down his chest. He went back outside and came back to test the shower, now working perfectly.

You asked him how much you owed him, telling him he didn’t need to come all the way over to your apartment.

He smiled and told you his payment was a cup of coffee, as he had told you the day before. He watched as you made him a cup, jokingly asking you if he had to buy a fancy coffee machine now?

For some reason, apart from those few sentences, the two of you didn’t really talk. There was a silence as you both had your coffees, both awkward and not awkward at the same time. He wouldn’t really look at you, and you found yourself unable to look at him much either.

“Would you like some breakfast?” you asked him, taking his cup from him, your fingers brushing his for a split second, a spark of static causing you to pull back quickly, the mug slipping from your grasp, crashing onto the floor. He bent down to collect the pieces while you got a broom, sweeping the remnants off the floor, telling him you’ll vacuum later. He picked up his tool box, hesitantly telling you he should be going, looking regretful.

For some reason, you found yourself feeling sorry he had to leave so soon. But you walked him to the door anyway. He turned around once he was outside, thanking you for the coffee, asking you if he could see you the next day? Sarah was coming back, so he won’t be coming for a while, wanting to spend time with her before she started her internship the next week.

“Of course,” you told him, “Thank you so much for helping me out, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” he insisted, “The coffee was worth it.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but you leaned in and lightly kissed him on the cheek, whispering your thanks to him one more time, unable to help yourself from taking in his scent, making you feel lightheaded. He didn’t pull away, staying where he was when you pulled away. He looked you in the eyes, contemplation in them. You may have imagined it, but you thought you saw them flick towards your lips for a split second.

“Joel? Joel Miller?”

The two of you turned to see the source of the snappy voice. Your young neighbour Lucy, formerly known as the off-key alarm system to your building was standing there, obviously on her way out, her keys clutched in her hand. She eyed your bathrobe, your wet hair, his slightly wet appearance.

“Lucy,” he said, rather awkwardly.

She turned around and went back inside, slamming the door behind her.

“I should be going,” he said once more, before turning around and walking away as fast as he could.

Okay that was weird, you thought, but it was none of your business, surely? You had an anvil in your chest, but you didn’t know why. You distracted yourself by vacuuming your small kitchen, getting rid of any remnants of that broken mug.

You didn’t understand what happened. What happened? Between you and Joel. Between him and Lucy.

The doorbell interrupted your thoughts. You opened the door to Lucy standing outside.

“Are you fucking Joel Miller?”

Huh?

“If you are, we need to talk,” she said, pushing you aside and walking into your apartment, aggressively turning around to face you, her arms across her chest, a serious look on her face.

Part 6

[peachiejeongin]

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! | Han Jisung

Synopsis: 30 years ago, you agreed to marry some sort of demonic, yet incredibly handsome creature in order to save the spiritual family whom haunted your attic; when the former was banished back to the afterlife, you figured you would never see him again. little did you know, an unlikely yet realistic relationship between the two of you would spark as he became the key in a journey to save your daughter...

Pairing: Beetlejuice!Han X fem!reader (reader resembles Lydia Deetz from 'Beetlejuice')

Genre: Dark Comedy AU, Fluff Towards the End

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: MAJOR BEETLEJUICE 2 SPOILERS AHEAD (The plot is edited at some points), Swearing, Mentions of Death, some gore depictions, mentions of a poor mother-daughter dynamic at some points, coerced marriage (sort of?), I turned Beetlejuice into a loverboy, NOT proofread

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have recently watched 'Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!' and it gave me the inspiration for this fan fiction! Obviously, multiple aspects of the original plot have been changed to fit the description of this story, such as the year the original tale takes place changing by a few years, additional dialogue, and a complete revamp of the dynamic between "Beetlejuice" (Han) and "Lydia" (Y/N), which I do apologize for. I would also like to put forth this statement: I do NOT own the rights to 'Beetlejuice,' nor any of its characters! I only hold the copyright to the scenes I create! Without further ado, enjoy the story! :)

"I can't believe I'm doing this," you whisper with pure dread and anxiety coating your voice as you stood in the attic of your old home. The model of your town constructed by the married couple that had lived there prior seemed to tremble along with your hands. 'I have to. It's my only choice,' you mouthed to nobody in particular; truly, you were correct. If you had another option, you would resort to it rather than being in the stance you were currently.

However, your daughter's life was at stake, and this was the only way you knew how to save her.

You thought Astrid was going on a normal date; she had just met a boy not even a couple of blocks away from your old family home. His name was Jeongin, and he seemed like a typical neighborhood boy when you dropped your daughter off; he was sweet, shy, and homebody-ish. You had only just learned the truth because of your close friend; she came over to prep your family home for marketing following your father's death and unknowingly revealed the boy's true intentions.

The address in which you had dropped Astrid off, 125 Jefferson Street to be specific, had infamously become known as the "Murder House." The young son who had resided in the home two and a half decades prior had slaughtered his parents in cold blood and evaded police for hours on end in the treehouse constructed in his backyard. When the cops had finally caught up to him, he slipped in attempts to escape, falling on the hard ground several feet below and snapping his neck almost instantly. The young boy's name?

Jeongin. The same Jeongin in which your daughter was currently, "on a date," with.

He was, conclusively, a ghost, only being visible to you due to your spiritual mediation abilities. It all made sense now; why the street-goers and tricker-treaters had glanced at you and Astrid strangely when Astrid was dropped off, why Jeongin refused to let you come inside, and why he took a sudden keen interest in Astrid after only knowing her for three days.

Trouble was brewing.

Yet, Jeongin had failed to recollect that you had possessed your spiritual abilities for decades, which had initially allowed you to visualize the being you were attempting to summon. You remembered 1994's events all too well, from the moment you had discovered the ghostly couple in your attic, to meeting the demon that called himself, 'Beetlejuice,' although his real name was Han, who would proceed to give your family hell for the next several days, to the coercion he placed upon you to marry him if he helped you save the couple from an exorcism.

After the latter event had come to a halt after a situation involving a sandworm swallowing Han whole, you believed you were rid of the demonic soul; however, Han had been making himself more and more present in your life lately. You saw him everywhere, whether it was on the set of your reality ghost hunting show, outside of your house, even lurking around your father's gravesite. You did not want to summon him and tried to search the inner macamations of your mind for a way to help your daughter that did not involve him.

Yet, there was a part of you deep inside that knew Han would be the only reasonable solution to the problem at hand; hell, you could even go as far as to say the same part of you wanted Han to come back. Sure, he was batshit crazy, for lack of a better term, but you could not deny that he was the best looking demon you had ever laid your eyes upon. Perhaps it was that same part of you that felt bummed that the marriage between the two of you never truly consemated, and maybe it now thought that this could be the second chance for the both of you.

You pushed those thoughts aside, quickly refocusing on rescuing Astrid, the more important issue at stake. You took another deep breath, closing your eyes tightly before muttering three words that would once again change the course of your life.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

On cue, the replica of the small down began to crack straight down the middle; buildings and model objects fell in the split, never to be seen again. The star of the show slowly rose from the ground, illuminated by shades of turquoise and lime-green lighting. He looked exactly the same as he did thirty years ago, with longer, shaggy green hair that framed his pale white skin; his eyes were encircled by pure blackness, and what looked like patches of moss were ever so present on the sides of his sharp jawline. He still wore the black and white pinstriped suit that was loose around his thin waist. He naturally looked abnormal, creepy even; of course he did, he was dead! Yet, you thought he still looked abnormally handsome, even after all of these years. Your eyes widened in awe as he threw up his hands in a jazz-like motion.

"The Juice is loose!" Han screamed in excitement. He vanished from sight, only to reappear behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, slightly startling you.

"Hi, Doll," he smiled, his pale squirrel cheeks ever so prominent. "How ya been? It's been a long time. You haven't called, so what's up with-" you cut off Han's ramble by shoving a book titled, 'Handbook for the Recently Deceased,' in his face; you had recently acquired it from the "Murder House" during your futile first attempt at saving Astrid.

"I need you to tell me what this means!" you frantically commanded as Han snatched the book from your hands. He pulled a small magnifying glass from seemingly out of nowhere as he analyzed the line you were inherently motioning to with your pointer finger.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" he inquired, leaning closer to the book in order to read the section. He skimmed over the line before widening his eyes and grimacing. "To make a long story short, your daughter is screwed." Your eyes widened as he spoke, mouth slightly agaping in sorrow. "Yeah, looks like she decided to trade lives with the boy. He gets to come back, while she's stuck on the other side permanently. One-way ticket on the Soul Train." Han ended the explanation by tugging his arm downwards, as if he were pulling on a train whistle. You shook your head at him in disbelief.

"Soul train?" you repeated in a murmur.

"That's right," Han instantly responded. "Last stop: The Great Beyond!" 'The Great Beyond,' he was referring to essentially translated to eternity, that being either Heaven or Hell. Han looked at you before continuing to ramble. "Y'know, she really should have been our daughter. I would have been a great father if you had taken me up on my offer and-" You sighed in frustration.

"Han, that doesn't matter right now!" you snapped. "What does matter is the fact that Astrid can't get on that train!" You lunged forward, grasping the front of Han's shirt in a desperate attempt to plead for his help. "You've gotta get me in there so I can get her out!" Han gripped onto your wrists, slowly lowering them as he spoke.

"Well, I can get you in, but it's going to take a quid pro quo." You rolled your eyes at his response.

"Of course there is," you groaned. "What do you want?"

"Well," he began by scratching the nape of his neck. "I've got this ex-wife, and she's kind of a whack-job. First of all, we are THROUGH," he emphasized as if you would outrage at the fact of him having an unmentioned spouse; you did not feel anger, though. After all, the two of you were not ever married nor officially even together, yet you did feel a bit confused at the fact of Han previously being committed. "She's kind of clingy, and if I could just keep her away from me somehow-"

"You want me to marry you, I presume?" you moved your hands in a 'get-on-with-it' motion as Han tilted his head to the right a bit whilst raising his eyebrows.

"I thought you would never ask!" A smile swiftly plastered onto his face as he shuffled his feet like a child. "Finally realizing how things were supposed to be, aye?" he teased, managing to reignite the same fire in your heart from thirty years ago.

"Whatever," you dismissed his apparent flirting, trying your best to conceal a prying smile. "How do I know you're going to keep your word? That you aren't using me for your own gain?"

"Sweetheart," Han dragged out the word, sounding sarcastically offended. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"You aren't a person, you're a demon."

"Fair point," Han commented. "I swear on my dead mother's soul," he promised, moving his hands in a Catholic cross symbol. Suddenly, he burst into flames, which made you contemplate if it was a binding of his word or a sign that he was a flat out liar. Nevertheless, you agreed to his conditions, with part of it being out of concern for your daughter and the other part stemming from repressed feelings resurfacing.

"Okay, fine! I will marry you if you help save my daughter!" you felt a hint of fear, but also a sense of relief finally being able to solidify the marriage that failed to become so many years ago. Han smirked, unrolling a marriage contract that he had materialized, similar to how he had done the magnifying glass.

"I'm going to need that in writing." Han made a grab at your hand. "Give me that," he sing-song demanded as he pricked your pointer finger on an unusually sharp quill pen. You screeched in protest as he used the pen to forge your signature onto the contract, throwing it down as swiftly as he made it appear. He exhaled and cusped your cheeks, pouting adorably. "I am going to make you so happy!"

"Jesus!" you exclaimed, clutching onto your throbbing, injured finger. "What's the plan on getting in?" Han smirked, eyeing the wall behind you. You looked behind you, seeing where Han had now appeared drawing a chalk outline of an explosive on the grey brick wall; you still felt his hands caressing your cheeks, however, yet as soon as you turned back around, Han had vanished, his only form now being that of the one sketching the outline. You whipped your head back around and made your way over to Han's current position. You looked at him in everfound confusion, contrasting to dopey grin he had upon his face.

"Well, you can't exactly go in through the front door!" Han responded to your perplexation; he did not alot time for a response, instead lighting a spawned match and placing it near the chalked fuse. It lit instantaneously, as if it were a real explosive. As the spark neared the wall, you instinctively clutched to Han's forearm, eliciting a sly smirk from the taller. The wall detonated in a flash, allowing you to walk through to the other side.

Quite literally.

The first thing you were met with was a shroud of shrinkers gasping, eyeing you both with uncertainty.

"You never saw us," Han commanded the shrinkers, the demand sounding more like a factual statement. "¿Comprende?" You figured the reason for the command had something to do with the, "whackjob," ex-wife Han had mentioned. A short tap on Han's shoulder turned him around at the speed of light. "Bob!" He addressed the shrinker, who was notably disguised as Han himself. "You and the boys stand guard. Nobody gets through." Bob nodded as Han snapped his fingers, causing an entrance on the other side of the room to open up.

"Let's go, Honey," he growled to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the opening. The pet name sent sparks through your body, but you persisted onwards instead of acknowledging it. Before you knew it, you were venturing down twisted hallways, nearly falling down illusive corridors, and making one too many wrong turns at times.

Yet, you never let go of Han's hand during the entire journey.

It was not long before the afterlife police, as you decided to refer to them, had discovered that a living being had illegally crossed into the afterlife, prompting an automated voice to blare, " Warning: 6-9-9 Violation," multiple times over. Furthermore, you had lost count on how many times you and Han had to maneuver your way into tight corridors or plainly defy the laws pf physics to conceal yourselves. That is exactly how you ended up, quite literally, on the ceiling. You only dropped down once the crowd of cops had made their rounds, calling, "All clear!"

"We're like Bonnie and Clyde, you and I," Han remarked as he dusted off his suit and retook hold of your hand. "Without the bullet holes, of course." You nodded your head in agitation, feeling a bit irritated at the circumstance; after all, you still wanted your daughter back.

"Do you even know where we're going?" you motioned to the hallway in front of you, allowing for Han to take the lead once more.

"You go right down this hallway, take three rights, through the ninth door, and right to the Soul Train!" Han once again made the whistle-pulling movement before letting go of your hand; the only thing was he was going in the opposite direction of what he had just described.

"And where are you going?!" you interrobanged, crossing your arms towards the demon.

"I have to go to the little boy's room first," he replied casually, making your face scrunch up in grotesque. He could detect your nervousness, so he clasped a hand onto your shoulder. "We'll get Astrid back, don't worry. I promise on Bob's soul." This time, Han did not catch on fire, allowing you to conclude that the earlier circumstance had indeed been a lie. Yet, the honesty he now possessed ignited a passionate fire within your heart; you sensed the care he felt for Astrid, and it was just as strong as the amount in which you possessed.

You nodded in response, moving your hand to hold the one currently placed on your shoulder. You heard footsteps coming down the hallway, so you quickly scurried off in opposite directions assuming that it was the cops.

Little did you know how wrong you were...

---

Neon lights illuminated the air as you cascaded down a flight of stairs. There were multiple souls near the train tracks, dancing a never-ending choreographing, acting as if they were alive once more. Yet, past all of those energetic souls, you spotted a glum, frightened girl being hoisted to the Soul Train against her better judgement.

"ASTRID!" you screamed out, your callings drowned by the lively music that was blasting. You watched against your will as your daughter was thrown into the train, instantly becoming swallowed into a crowd of party-goers now making their respective ventures onto the locomotive. You rushed down the steps as fast as your legs would let you and pushed through the crowd of dancers filling the train.

"Astrid!" you called once again, only this time she heard your desperate cries and made her way towards you. You gripped onto her hand firmly and pulled her off of the Soul Train just in time as the doors closed and the train made its departure for The Great Beyond. You engulfed Astrid in a tight bear hug, holding onto her for dear life; the sweet moment was short-lived, however, as the afterlife police began to surround the area, slowly enclosing on you and Astrid.

You looked around, hoping to find some sort of escape as Astrid trembled in your arms. You pointed to a door with a red neon sign above it reading, "Emergency Exit." You and Astrid made your way to the door, Astrid holding up the skirt of her Halloween costume so that it would not slow her down.

"By the way," she began breathlessly. "I saw dad!" Your face lit up in delight; the scenario revolving around your ex-husband's departure to the afterlife had been shrouded in mystery. Years ago, he had went on an expedition in the Amazon River; several days afterwards, they could not find his body. You had tried to reach out to him several times, but you were never able to, and you never knew the reason as to why. Hearing that Astrid had seen him put all of your worries to rest.

However, you barely had time to react to her statement as you pushed the door open. Instead of your feet making their next steps out of the afterlife, they began freefalling and landed in a pile of sand. You looked around at your surroundings, and you found yourself in a desert-esque wasteland. The only objects in sight besides sand granules were weirdly shaped rock carvings.

"Where are we?" Astrid worriedly asked as she looked frantically at the sight.

"I don't know!" you replied with just as much worry, if not more. Suddenly, Astrid tapped your shoulder and pointed towards a nearby planet.

"Look! That's Saturn! So we must be on one of its moons!" she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear, the afterlife is so random!" You were not able to formulate a response before the sand arounds you began to shift; a puff of tan dust appeared suddenly, and you and Astrid found yourselves faced with a black and white striped monstronsity arising from the depths of the wasteland. It had beady red eyes that were glaring hungrily at you both.

"Sandworm!" you instantly remembered the creature, both from your multiple paranormal books and from the events that transpired so long ago. You grabbed Astrid's hand and ran at the speed of light across the deserted wasteland. The sandworm was about to catch up to you both when you heard a familiar voice:

"Take my hand!" Mirroring the statement, a hand dropped down and swiftly pulled Astrid up onto a ledge. The sandworm had began to rear its second ugly head as the hand reached back down to grab you; the mystery being pulled you up onto the surface as well, shutting the door harshly behind you three before the sandworm had a chance to strike. It was here in which you finally came into contact with the face that belonged to the limb:

Astrid's father.

He looked much different than you remembered, naturally. His skin was a seafoam green shade, most likely resulting from the waterlogging of his body. He had sores all over his body, exposing parts of his muscle from the forehead down. Finally, the most humorous feature, he had tiny blue pirhannas nibling on every sector of his body.

The three of you spoke for a long time over respective cups of coffee. He had complimented Astrid's Halloween costume; she was dressed as Marie Curie after she had been poisoned by radiation. Furthermore, he commented how he was always watching over you guys, although neither of you were able to visualize him. He ended the conversation with a hug before the automated voice sounded another warning about the 6-9-9 violation.

"We've got to get back to Winter River," you stated as your body lurched up, ready to take action.

"We can't leave until Astrid gets her life back," your widower replied, standing up from his chair. "Follow me." The three of you sped for quite sometime until you had reached the ticket booth. Here, you saw Jeongin, smirking deviously in your direction with a voucher in hand, no doubt a passport to venture back into the living world.

"Don't stamp that passport!" Astrid's father yelled out in desperation, but the operator at the ticket window had already done the unthinkable.

"You're too late," Jeongin smugly commented as he waited for his passport to be returned. Jeongin was right; time had ran out.

Or so you thought.

"I think it was Doestoevsky who said," a moderate voice began as the "operator" slid Jeongin back his passport. Jeongin's sly grin slowly faded as he read the stamp marking:

Shit Out of Luck.

The operator lifted his head up to reveal a pale, squirrel like face with messy green hair entracing the sides.

"Later, fucker!" Han's hand gripped onto a lever beside him as Jeongin glanced up at him with worry. Before he could protest, Han's hand had yanked the lever down, opening up a trap-door into a fiery inferno. Jeongin fell down into eternal torture, never to cause harm to anyone again.

"You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!" Han screamed into the entrance to Hell. You only caught a glimpse of his words, but they still fluttered your heart, nevertheless.

Before you knew it, Han was standing right beside you, Astrid, and Astrid's father.

"I've got it from here, big guy," Han winked at Astrid's father, causing him to mumble a quick, 'I love you,' to Astrid before speeding off.

"This way, follow me!" Han led the two of you back down the same twisting corridors you had traveled earlier in the venture until you reached a room with dark blue walls and a ladder in the dead center. "This is as far as I go for now," he commented, a look of regret replacing the one of smugness that was usually present

"Mom, is this-"

"Beetlejuice? The one and only, Honey!" Han interupted Astrid's inquiry, holding out a ghostly hand to shake. "But you can call me Han. Or dad if you'd prefer." You waved your hand across your neck in a, 'stop-talking,' motion, causing Han to clear his throat. "Well, carry on then!" He held steadily onto the ladder, helping Astrid climb up with you prepared to follow.

"I'll see you soon, Wifey," Han remarked as his hands snaked around your waist. You quickly embraced his hug, not caring how twisted it may have seemed. You held his words close to your heart as you let go, clutching onto the ladder as you exited the afterlife.

---

You climbed, and climbed, and climbed until your arms were sick of doing so. Eventually, you reached an opening which led to the Winter River Cemetary.

You were home at last.

Astrid turned around to face you, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," her voice trembled as she expressed her gratitude. "I'm so sorry I never belived that you saw ghosts and...I don't know, I'm just sorry for all of it!"

There were only two situations you can say you ever felt your heart truly beat. The first was when you met Han for the first time; the second was this exact moment.

You and Astrid's relationship was subpar, at best. Ever since her father's passing, she had refused to interact with you, especially where the paranormal was concerned. Until tonight, Astrid thought the entire concept of spirits, witches, demons, and all things supernatural was a load of hullabaloo. She never wanted to claim you as her mother.

Until tonight that was, when you had earned her trust back.

You inched forward in preparation to give a response; however, your train of thought derailed when you heard someone calling your name repeatedly, insisting upon the fact that you were, 'late,' for something. You glanced over Astrid's shoulder and noticed that it was the town pastor calling your name. That is when it hit you:

"Oh my gosh, my wedding!" you yelled as you rushed towards the church building, Astrid trailing your feet close behind.

"Wait, mom, after everything that's happened tonight, you know you don't have to do this, right?" Astrid asked earnestly. Your mind flashed back to the events of tonight; the pet names Han had called you, how tightly he had held your hand, how he referred to you as, "the love of his afterlife." You knew by all means those were not the events Astrid was talking about by a long shot; however, they sunk the truth into her words.

"I know, but if I don't do it now, I'm never going to do it!"

"Are you really sure about this?" Astrid could sense the unsincerity in your tone. You let out an aggravated sigh.

You were not actually sure, that was the truth. I mean, who truly is sure about marrying a man they have been committed to for less than a year, let alone a man who proposed on the same day as your father's funeral?!

You answered, hesitance prominent in your voice, yet giving a response in attempts to convince both your daughter and yourself that this marriage was a good thing: "Hyun loves me, and that's got to be enough!"

Ah yes, Hyun. Short for Hyunjin. The tragic fiancé you had met at a widow's resort. He had told you his sob story of a tale, how his fiancé had perished in a skiing accident, and as you would have put it, the two of you just clicked.

You agreed to the marriage on his accord rather than your own, truly; you felt pressured by the crowd of people watching his proposal at your father's funeral and by his desperate pleas. You knew this was not what was in the tarot cards for you, yet you tried to claim that it was.

You had finally reached the entrance of the church when you ran into the aforementioned fellow. He lazily embraced you, your arms suddenly becoming doubtful to wrap around him in return.

"I thought you got cold feet," Hyunjin confessed as he removed his arms from around you.

"No, blame me," Astrid piped up. "She just saved me from my date from hell."

"Who are all of these people?" you failed to acknowledge either statement, instead taking notice of all the unfamilarity present within the crowd of attendees.

"Just a couple of influencers; nobody under five million followers, and I think we have a Netflix executive in there," Hyunjin smiled as he said this, but you could only groan in frustration.

You see, along with being your husband to be, Hyunjin was also your manager. He partnered alongside you for every media project you participated in, most specifically your new hit show, "Ghost House." Hyunjin loved the attention.

You did not. Hence, your disapproval of the wedding guests.

Your anxious thinking once again halted, this time as a result of Astrid snapping her fingers repeatedly.

"Are we doing this or what?" she asked impatiently.

"Right, yes, of course," Hyunjin agreed before eyeing you up and down. "Where is your dress?" You waved your hands slightly in dismissal.

"All that matters is that I am here now, so let's just skip straight to the vows," you did not make eye contact for a second as you spoke to him.

"Wait, where's Delia?" Astrid quieried about your step-mother. A flash of light and a rumble of thunder caused everyone to turn their attention to the front of the church pew.

"Yo!" a voice boomed across the audience, and you glanced forward to see the one and only. "She's right here," he responded to Astrid's question, pointed to the red-haired lady standing beside him.

One thing about Han: he was excellent at keeping his promises.

"She was helping me calm down before the wedding," Han continued. "I was feeling a little jittery." He chuckled arduously before pushing Delia aside.

"You!" Hyunjin thundered as he sped across the aisle. "You're that thing from my dream!" He was referring to an earlier occurance in which he had muttered the legendary three-word encantation and found himself in a dreamlike state encountering Han.

"Well, I'm really more nightmare material, but thanks!" You stifled a chuckle at Han's comeback.

"Whats up, Be-" Astrid attempted to call Han's real name; however, her voice was quickly stifled, accompanied by a tsking from Han.

"Part of the deal is you can never ever say my name, ever!" Han explained the reasoning behind the sudden silencing as Astrid rubbed her throat; Han held up the handbook for the dead from earlier.

"What deal?" Astrid asked in return.

"The deal she," Han pointed at you, "made to save you," he moved his pointer finger to Astrid. "That's why I said you can call me dad earlier."

"Y/n." Delia stated your name bluntly. "You agreed to marry him?!" Saying Delia was outraged was a complete understatement. She looked at you with horror present in your eyes, terrified as to how the next events would unfold. You began to stumble over your words.

"Well, uh. You see I did, but I was, um," you felt desperate prying at your words. Han looked at you with intrigued intent; both he and you knew the real reason why you had chosen to marry him, yet he also knew you were trying to find a way to hide your true intentions. The glares he was sending your way did not aid your cause; they were sultry, yet agitating, as if they were encouraging you to tell how you fell in love with a demon and that was why you were so quick to agree to a marriage in order to save your daughter.

"Y/n, what is really going on here?" Hyunjin interrogated, his annoyed gaze boring into yours. Your stare instead found Han's, your eyes pleading for his help.

"Wow!" Han exclaimed as he threw the handbook onto the altar. "Talk about awkward!" He had suddenly appeared behind Hyunjin, an arm slung around his shoulders and causing the crowd to gasp. "You haven't made much progress since our last session, so I'm going to go ahead and recommend some drug therapy." Han was once again referring to the "dream" Hyunjin had prior in the day. He pulled out a filled syringe labeled, 'truth serum,' and injected the liquid straight into Hyunjin's neck.

"Don't be afraid to share when you're ready!" he told Hyunjin with a cheeky grin on his face. Hyunjin's body betrayed him in this moment, shifting towards you with blown out eyes and quivering lips, as if he was trying to hold back from saying something. Han had appeared behind you now, the same smug arm snug around your shoulders.

"Let's see what your, "lover," truly thinks, shall we?" Han whispered against your neck. You and Astrid's expressions were contorted into confusion.

"I always thought your whole act was bullshit," Hyunjin suddenly confessed, causing your eyebrows to heighten and your lips to mouth, 'what?' "I never believed in ghosts, spirits, or any of it."

"What?" you inquired, extremely taken aback by his truthfull confession. "All this time? Why the hell did you want to get married then?"

"Money!" Hyunjin outbursted. "I knew I could make more money as your husband than as your manager!" He tried to cusp a hand over his mouth to keep the truth from overflowing but failed tremendously; meanwhile, your mouth was agape at the words he was spilling. "And I never had a dead fiancé. I just went to that survivor's retreat to try and pick up a girl," he winced at his last confession. You could feel nothing in your heart but anger and disgust; Han, on the other hand felt immense pleasure in seeing your realization of what an absolute scumbag your ex soon-to-be-wed was.

"How about a little physical therapy?" Han gently grasped your fist and lifted it up, taking the action straight out of your mind. Before a rational thought could cross your mind, you had knocked Hyunjin clean in the nose, the force of the impact catapulting him backwards. Han clapped forcefully and joyously at the incident, and you did something that shocked yourself; you smiled. For once in your life, you had stood up for yourself, and you took pride in that. In the midst of your self-glory, Han began to address the crowd.

"We'd like to thank you all for coming, but right now, we'd like a little privacy." He snapped his fingers, and the crowd subconsciously turned their phones around so the camera faced them. Their faces began to morph into grotesque shapes as they were pulled into their cellular cameras. In a flash, every unfamiliar face in the audience had vanished, leaving only you, Han, Astrid, Delia, Hyunjin, and the church's pastor. The latter of the six attempted to make his escape through the back entrance; however, his efforts were for nothing as Han was two steps in front of him, standing square in the middle of the doorframe.

"Where ya going, Padre?" Han asked rhetorically; he snapped his fingers once more, and the pastor appeared at the front of the altar, his Bible in hand. Han subsequently poofed on the left side in front of the pastor, reaching out a hand for you to join him on the right. An undead symphony began to play a surprisingly harmonious melody as the two of you linked arms. You looked up at him, slightly hesitant at the suddenness of the events at hand. The remaining few in the crowd began to sing along to the melody that was playing, notably doing so under hypnosis. Han took your hand in his and brought you closer to him, beginning to slow dance with you under the radiant light of the church's chandelier.

You would have been lying if you said there was not a part of you that did not like this experience. Sure, Han was a demon who had done questionable things and was downright psychotic at certain points. Yet, you could not stop thinking about what he had done and subsequently said earlier: "You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!"

It made you realize: he truly cared about you. Unlike most demons, he had some semblance of a heart, even if he had a funny way of showing it. Not only this, but he cared about your daughter like she was his own, and that won your heart straight away.

The lights dimmed as you leaned into his embrace, beginning to slow-dance. He smiled as he looked down at you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist to hold you there and planting a small kiss on the top of your forehead.

"I knew you knew who you belonged with." Before you could respond, you were floating; you had found that ghosts tended to do that when they demonstrated affection. Although the experience was supernatural, you did not want it any other way. You stared deep into Han's eyes and he reciprocated. You contemplated leaning in for a kiss, knowing what that would mean for Han but the mere thought of it being more exhilerating than nerve-wracking.

That is why it was such a pain whenever the afterlife police crashed the wedding. They broke in through the windows, fell from the chandeliers, and some even came out of the spot where the symphony was playing. The music came to a halt, and the low lights came back up.

"Mr. Juice!" the lead of the afterlife police named Wolf Jackson boomed. "You have violated code 6-9-9!" Wolf did not get to finish, as Han took out a megaphone and shouted the word, 'Freeze,' causing the guards to do just that. You had hoped that was the last of the night's problems.

You found out that you were sorely mistaken.

The church doors flew open, and there stood a ghostly young woman; her skin was somehow paler than Han's. Her hair, eyes, nails, clothing, and shoes were all as black as ebony, and staples adorned what seemed to be a never-ending scar cascading down her body.

"BEETLEJUICE!" she thundered across the church pews, slowly making her way towards the demon. Han looked absolutely astounded in negativity.

"Sweetheart!" He grimaced as he spoke the pet name. "You look amazing!" From these four words alone, you came to the conclusion that this was Delores, Han's ex-wife that he had mentioned in passing. All of a sudden, Delores moved her hand in a swift motion, flinging you away from Han as she drew closer to him. He sputtered out multiple things about going through a lot of changes, how it was not her but him, and something about a mid-afterlife crisis.

"Your soul belongs to me, my love. For eternity," she did not take into account anything Han had said, only focused on sucking the remainder of his living soul out of him.

"You don't wanna spend your eternity with me!" Han retaliated nervously. "I'm not the one for you. You need a soulmate. Somebody who really sees you. For instance," he stepped out of the way, revealing an unfrozen Hyunjin. He snapped his fingers, changing the tuxedo top Hyunjin was wearing into a T-shirt stating, "I <3 Delores." This captivated her attention, more with confusion than arousal albeit.

You, on the other hand, were still splayed on the ground where Delores had played human ping pong with you. You glanced over to your right and saw Astrid drawing a symbol on the ground with Delia's lipstick. She knocked on it three times; you were not sure what it was until her knocks caused it to open like a trapdoor. It was a gateway to the same deserted area you and Astrid had been in earlier. Coming to a swift realization, the three of you moved out of the trapdoor's vicinity just in time to narrowly miss the large sandworm that erupted through the opening.

After an entanglement of Han leading the sandworm on where to go with a red cloth like a matador, the sandworm had swallowed both Delores and Hyunjin whole. Funnily enough, the pastor used this time to make his legitimate escape while Han was concerned with commanding the sandworm.

You sighed out of relief. 'This is the end of it,' you truly believed. Astrid and Deliah helped you up as you glanced at Han, mouthing a 'thank you' to him.

"No problem, my love," he replied, sadness slightly tinging his voice. "See you on the other side."

And as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

---

"I want to thank all of you ghosties out there for your support over all of these years." Thunder clapped as you spoke solumly into the camera. "This is my last show. I have spent so much time talking to the dead. It's time I start living and make memories with the people I love, rather than be haunted by them later." The tape stopped rolling automatically, and you let out a sigh of relief. You stood up from your filming chair, which was truly just the recliner in your attic, and walked over to the replica of Winter River. It was still split in half from a certain visitor; however, you felt there was no need in repairing it as you sat on your knees, especially not with what you were about to do.

You had been thinking a lot lately. You knew what your heart longed to do, and it was time to put that motion into effect. As such, you closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, and muttered the same name three times.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

Han did not make much of a scene as he appeared this time; he had been watching over you the last few days, and knew the intensity of a typical arrival would be too much.

"Well, well, well," he remarked slowly. You opened your eyes and saw the ghost directly in front of you, sitting in a similar position to your own. The sight of him made you smile with pure joy, and he could not help but return it. "I'm glad to see the second marriage has made you finally pick up the phone," he teased you and you let out a small giggle.

"I've been thinking," you muttered. "And as I think, my mind keeps wondering back to one particular moment when we were together last. You really pulled through for me and Astrid," you spoke kindly, truthfully, your heart picking up the pace with every word you spoke towards him. "I know you told the ex-wife that she needed a soulmate. Someone who understands her." You reached out to grab Han's cold, pale hand. "I know you weren't talking to me, but," you took a brief pause to contemplate your next words. "I think that's what you are to me."

Your words caused Han's mouth to go agape, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Are you saying..."

Instead of saying anything, you showed him. You cupped his snow-white chipmunk cheeks and brought his face to your own, capturing him in a daring kiss. It was full of passion, romanticism, and overall, love.

Everything you would expect a demon not to possess.

You only pulled away from the kiss when you heard the sound of Han's heart beating. You softly opened your eyes where an incredulous image awaited you:

Han's skin had darkened into a light, peachy color. The dark black rings around his eyes had vanquished, and the shaggy green hair he once possessed had now morphed into healthy brown locks. His eyes, for once, looked as if they contained life.

Because they did.

You knew kissing Han in addition to signing that marriage contract would bring him back to life; however, you had decided that was the life you wanted. Countless times, he had shown how he would pull through for you, how he would best his demon status and do anything you asked.

You were confident he was your purpose.

"Woah," Han glanced down at himself, astounded by the sight of himself alive once more. "You brought me back to life." He could not express his thoughts in mere words; therefore, he did so by engulfing you in the tightest hug known to mankind. Against his chest, you mumbled a sentence that made his beating heart pound:

"Han, you brought me back to life."

[arthrobug]

Kobylu Week Day 2: Modern

I finished it early/on time today lmao asdfghjkl, so I was able to add a few extra details 👍

Image without title and with borders teehee

Anyways lore time-

In this AU, the city they live in is basically an epicenter of extreme crime and danger. Koby is an ex-firefighter who decided to retire early to recline and work at a little bookshop, but during his active years, he met a currently unknown crook named Luffy.

When they met, Luffy unintentionally saved Koby's life from another criminal, Alvida (I'll also mention there's an additional two years to their ages. So Koby was already 18 when he Luffy, who was also already 19). In a surprising turn of events, the two became quick friends, although Luffy was a criminal and Koby's entire livelihood was centered around arresting people like Luffy.

After Koby retired, Luffy would frequently visit Koby's new workplace. Eventually, one of Koby's friends from his ex-work found out about Luffy -Helmeppo- but he didn't mind since he soon realized Luffy isn't a truly bad person.

Koby purposefully works closing shift at the bookshop as much as he can in order for Luffy to visit him easier, and Luffy honestly doesn't quite realize yet how fond Koby is of him. In this image, Luffy -now a notorious criminal- had gone to the only place he knew he could be cared for -the bookshop- after being badly burned close to death (you likely know who did that lol), earning his x-shaped chest scar. Koby had to hide in his own work after Luffy was of course tailed by police, doing everything in his power to protect and care for the man he loves most.

[sugar-grigri]

Neither Denji, Yoshida nor their author can achieve normalcy

Let's look at Chainsaw Man as a narrative whole. There's no point in an author dealing with a subject that's already been dealt with, except to say something additional: so what does this chapter tell us?

Entitled "Normal Life", the chapter refers directly to Denji's previous dream: a normal life became Yoshida's offer to push him to stop being Chainsaw Man.

Fujimoto knows that you've understood that Denji intends to go beyond normality. This is something we learned from the whole of Part 1: normality had already been used by Makima to manipulate Denji. Here, things seem redundant, as Yoshida follows in the footsteps of the former antagonist. On top of that, while Denji was communicating and showing a certain emotional vulnerability, he's being sexually assaulted?

Why this chapter? Why tell it like it is? Fujimoto doesn't seem to initiate anything new, worse, erases his own developments.

The answer is easy, and Fujimoto gives it to us: this chapter is frustrating because it consciously shows you that he's incapable of writing and describing a normal life.

The first few pages serve to show that Denji is incapable of living anonymously and incognito when his environment permanently gravitates around the figure of Chainsaw Man. Denji literally finds himself in a fight to his detriment, and is punched in the face in the name of his heroic identity. Back in the face.

The second page serves to show that Denji can't achieve this so-called normativity by his past, by who he is, but above all by the way he's perceived by society and his guardians. He doesn't have a normal past, so how can he achieve a normal present? The others don't see him as lambda, so how can he become one?

The third thing that will prevent Denji from achieving this normal life is the man who intends to offer it to him: Yoshida. In his equally unconventional present as a demon hunter. He tells him explicitly: he has no idea what a normal high-school student does. Normal he isn't, since a normal high-school student is a professional cover for him.

Denji and Yoshida perceive a normal schoolgirl, that is, the ordinary life of a schoolboy, as something projected and unattainable. Just like the love of a hug is unattainable for Denji and Makima. Yoshida and Denji are distanced from it by this abnormality embedded in their daily lives: a demon.

Yoshida's assertion that the world won't end without Chainsaw Man also loses its meaning. Granted, Chainsaw Man isn't the only one to eradicate demons. But who will save the world?

How can a boy whose family includes a demonic little sister, and a demonic dog who is both his heart and his family, find his way in this normal life other than by being isolated?

In this empty room, doesn't it seem more like Chainsaw Man is deliberately isolated? Trapped in this normal life he can't quite fit into. Whether it's because of his identity as Chainsaw Man, as Denji, whether it's because Yoshida offers him this girl who looks like a demon who literally followed orders to sleep with him, this sex-obsessed boy?

Why abruptly cut off Denji's realization that he's in a bad way? With this demon-like girl sexually assaulting him? Why does this ending seem so abrupt?

Because what Fujimoto is indicating is that he's not capable of writing a normal life for Denji either, that his writing will never be gentle, that his character will never be able to give himself up in appropriate, normal circumstances: that a trauma will always resurface.

Whether it's the demon that prevents him from accessing the life projected before him, or the demon that brutally cuts him off from his confessions by attacking him. Fujimoto confronts his own hero, who no longer knows what to do?

Make love? In a world populated by demons? In a world crawling with Chainsaw Man? With an author unable to depict a normal life without brutally interrupting it, frustrating his own reader?

The normal life we'd all like Denji to have: neither he, nor the man who offers it, nor the man who writes it, will give it to us.

[perksofbeingahalfie]

A type of character that I'm OBSESSED with is the character who is turned into a symbol for a cause they don't believe in. The character who is cast in a story that they don't care about. The common man turned into a mythic figure, but who doesn't actually participate in the mythology.

I'm talking Jinx Arcane, who is seen as a symbol of the Zaun revolution despite the fact that she never was a freedom fighter. Any violence she committed against Piltover, her breaking the people out of jail, even her joining the fight in the finale - all of it was done for self serving reasons, it was all personal. She was never on the ground putting in the work or participating in mutual aid or even trying for an independent Zaun like Sevika or Ekko or Silco, yet she is painted on the walls and looked up to as a figure, a part to play. Not as her full person. So much so that just Isha imitating Jinx is enough to spark the fire.

Spinner from My Hero Academia is almost a c list character. He's a member of the League of Villains, but not a particularly important one. He is a follower at his core, first of Stain and then of Shigaraki. But for the final war, All For One decides to elevate him to the status of leader. He gives him additional quirks and paints him as a symbol of the heteromorph population who have been constantly oppressed and discriminated against, stirring up tension and recruiting many regular citizens who have no experience fighting to AFOs side in the final war. But at the key moment, the pivitol point that could change the tides of war, it falls apart. Because Spinner was never that figure, just a flimsy icon. He's not fighting for the heteromorph cause, he's not even fighting for AFO. He wasn't a mindless pawn, he *allowed* AFO to do these things to him, but for his own reasons. As he's deteriorating under the strain of the quirks and the pressure of the masses, he says explicitly its because he cares about Shigaraki and nothing else. Because it's personal.

In Black Sails, a story all about narratives and who you pretend to be, John Silver is literally crafted into the mythical pirate king by Flint and Billy. He plays the part of Long John Silver to a certain degree, but he's never more than an actor in a role. And at his core, Silver is a liar, a *very* good one. And so Billy and Flint forget this, they forget the fact that Silver doesn't care about the war and never has. He is a man with no past and no future, no story. A man who not only knows he's in a story, but also is one of the few to escape the constraints of the narrative by surpassing it entirely. By no longer being the character he was cast as, both textually and metatextually. He refuses the narrative, and he even has the power to do the same for Flint at the very end.

And it's not even the fact that they don't care or don't believe in the cause. Because they can and often do, though extremely temporarily. Spinner does express outrage against heteromorph discrimination, and Silver does find himself begrudgingly caring about his crew. Even Jinx can rally to save the city to some degree. But it never *really* matters to them. It's never even close to the main motivator, and a character quite literally lives and dies by their motivations. They're always operating on a different level than the other characters. Not necessarily a better or worse level, but just a purely different one. Or at least a level that the other characters don't understand/continually forget about. Most of the series, Jinx is purely reactionary, not doing things with much forethought or meaning behind it, but acting on emotional impulse. Spinner is a follower who is content with being a follower, who only really cares about his friends, his found family, not the war hes leading. And Silver is perpetually in survival mode, never dedicating himself to cause nor creed bc he doesn't allow the audience to make him into something more than a creature staying alive, regardless of what they might believe.

I dunno, there's something about characters that are made into symbols for causes they don't champion, and the rest of the characters having to deal with the fallout of their misbelief that really gets me going. They're the worms in my brain that keep coming back around

[rain0tes]

I'm thinking about Hazbin Hotel with a Suguru Geto like reader.

Entering the hotel with two teenagers in tow, panic etched across your face, you plead with Charlie to allow your daughters to stay, at the very least, to provide them with a safe space to hide during the extermination.

You knew you could handle yourself; after all, you'd survived in Hell for a few years now and always navigated the yearly purge with ease. However, upon discovering that your two adoptive daughters were spawned in Hell just before an extermination, you were desperate to find shelter for them, willing to go to any lengths to ensure their safety.

Bless her soul, Charlie took you and your daughters into the hotel, where you've been staying ever since, grateful for the refuge and safety it provided amidst the chaos of Hell.

With a constant smile on your face, you exude genuine warmth and kindness, easily making you one of the kindest souls in the hotel, second only to Charlie. Unlike Alastor, your demeanour feels sincere, radiating a sense of genuine care and compassion.

You naturally take on a fatherly role over the other residents, offering guidance, support, and understanding to those who need it most.

When Charlie would ask what you could have possibly done to deserve a spot in Hell, given your genuinely kind nature, you would simply smile in response, choosing not to delve into the details of your past.

The downward spiral, the lives you've taken with your own hands, the very same lives you once promised to save— it all still haunts you, a constant reminder of your past mistakes. Yet, you strive to push through it all, clinging to the hope of redemption that Charlie keeps preaching about.

You don't really believe you deserve forgiveness, feeling as though you've delved too far down to ever swim back to the surface again. In your eyes, Nanako and Mimiko have a better chance at redemption; they deserve another chance. So, you strive to keep it together, if only to support them and ensure they have the opportunity to find the redemption you feel is beyond your reach.

Nanako's accidental slip of calling Charlie "sister" once has since become a cherished term of endearment, one that has stuck and been embraced by everyone in the hotel. Mimiko, ever accepting and adaptable, casually accepts the addition of a third sister into their familial dynamic without hesitation.

Gradually, you also begin to see Charlie as a third child, influenced by your adoptive daughters' insistence on referring to her as their sister.

The rest of the hotel residents hold you in high regard; it's difficult not to like you.

Angel Dust holds a special appreciation for you. You offer him a safe space to rant and confide in, providing the much-needed comfort and support he craves. Your non-judgmental attitude and genuine concern help him navigate the challenges he faces, allowing him to feel understood and accepted in a way he rarely experiences elsewhere.

He often describes it as you "fathering so hard you start mothering."

Vaggie finds that she can truly relax when you're around, feeling a sense of ease and comfort in your presence. As the only other voice of reason, she trusts your judgment implicitly and relies on your calm demeanour to navigate through challenging situations. Your steady presence serves as a source of stability and reassurance for Vaggie, allowing her to let her guard down and find moments of respite.

Pentious finds you a bit intimidating, not because of any unkindness, but because of the confidence you exude. In his opinion, you're just as kind as Charlie, but you possess a certain assurance and composure that comes with experience, something he feels Charlie lacks. Your presence commands respect, and while he admires your kindness, he also can't help but feel a bit in awe of your self-assuredness.

Nifty's fondness for you was evident from the start, as she frequently left out little gifts for you to find, even if they were admittedly a bit peculiar, reminiscent of a cat bringing their owner a dead mouse. Despite their unusual nature, you graciously thanked her for each and every one, appreciating the gesture and the sentiment behind it. However, you discreetly disposed of the gifts without her ever knowing, understanding that some things are better left unseen.

Alastor views you as competition to a degree. While you maintain friendly terms and often engage in pleasant conversation over drinks, he senses that you're hiding a lot of things, particularly the extent of your power. Despite the amicable facade, he can't shake the feeling that there's more to you than meets the eye, and he's wary of the potential threat you may pose.

Husk is the only one who truly sees how burned out you are, recognizing the exhaustion weighing on you emotionally. Initially, you resisted opening up, even when he made efforts to encourage you to do so. The irony of being the therapist of the hotel in need of therapy yourself wasn't lost on you.

However, over time, you began to slowly share what was bothering you with Husk. While you didn't reveal too much, simply being able to express some of your feelings was a relief. Knowing that someone understood and cared enough to listen provided a small measure of comfort amidst the turmoil of your own emotions.

When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel, he's immediately passive-aggressive toward you, seeing in you exactly what he wants to be with Charlie: a father figure who's there for his daughter. Despite his initial animosity, he can't hold onto his resentment for too long, especially as you both naturally fall into a co-parent-like relationship.

You catch him up on what Charlie has been up to over the years, serving as a key component in patching up their fractured father-daughter relationship. Over time, Lucifer begins to appreciate your genuine care and concern for Charlie, and despite his pride, he acknowledges the positive impact you've had on their relationship.

The first time anyone in the hotel witnessed you engage in combat happened during Lucifer's visit, while he and Charlie were engaged in conversation. Suddenly, you felt your surroundings shake, signalling the onset of a confrontation.

A flurry of emotions overwhelmed you at first, but one thing became clear: your daughters and friends were in danger, and you would not let it slide.

By the time everyone emerged outside, you were already in the midst of the carnage, your clothes and face stained with blood. Despite attempting to wipe the liquid off with your thumb, it only served to smudge further into your skin. Turning to face the group, a grim determination etched across your features.

Maybe there was a good reason you were in Hell after all.

Note: I love hacker!reader but I wanted to do something else for once. This was more so because I wanted to give the hh cast a "mom friend," and the first person that always comes to mind is Suguru for some reason? Idk. I hope you enjoyed!

(Masterlist)

[maverickgalathynius]

Throne of glass head cannons I wholeheartedly believe and you can’t convince me otherwise

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• Aelin essentially became a wyrdkey at a certain point due to her knowledge of the wyrdmarks and her skill of using them to be able to open portals to other worlds (hell realm from CoM) with the addition of having a goddesses power

• Aelin would’ve had matching hand burns with Az bad Maeve not rebuilt her completely

• Aelin bound her life to Fenrys to save him which means someday when Aelin dies so will Fenrys

• If Sam had survived Rowan still would’ve waited for Aelin

•Aelin is Ambidextrous due to when she had to break her right hand when she was with Arobynn

•Bryce and Aelin share a title ‘The Queen who walked between worlds

• Aelin also gained another name where she was referred to as ‘Queen of the Underworld’ bc of her murder streak and success in war

• Eva just calls Aelin her aunt bc Aelin and Aedion act so much like siblings instead of cousins that Eva just got the impression they were brother and sister at one point and even after being corrected it just kind of stuck that she called her her aunt

• there have been several occasions for when Aedion points at Lysandra and says that’s his wife to a stranger but Lysandra is in her ghost leopard form so Aedion just looks crazy

• when Celaena was in the dungeons after Nehemiah’s death she was only drinking the drug infused water bc she hopes that there would be just enough sedatives in there to kill her

• you cannot convince me Celaena and Nehemia didn’t kiss each other at least once romantically

• when Aelin uses her magic and flames form in her hands or something she’s directly touching, the veins leading up to her wrist start to faintly glow a golden color like her fire bc her magic ‘flows directly through her veins’.

•Same with her eyes where she can do the thing Nesta did and make her flame appear in her eyes where the golden ring is when she wants

•Imagine how it would be if death in the TOG world was similar to how death was believed to be in Ancient Greece where if the death was not acknowledged through a burial of some sorts or prayers sent up for the dead then the soul would forever be tied to the living world and not allowed to pass on, and then Celaena would just always be residing by Sam or Nehemia’s graves for the rest of eternity bc no one, not even Aelin thought to truly acknowledged that she was dead bc Aelin didn’t think it was possible for Celaena to become her own person after she died and everyone else didn’t like Celaena enough to try it

• it’s possible that Aelin has two carrenems, bc we know Rowan is one of them but we saw in the part where her and Dorian killed the king both of their magics worked together in a similar way, so it’s possible Dorian could also have a similar kind of thing with her but the reason it’s partly different is bc he’s human and doesn’t have some of the advanced abilities fae do.

•I fully believe that Aelin and Manon treat Elide like a divorced parents kid, Manon and the witches get her on the weekends, Aelin and her court get her on the weekdays

•friendly reminder that Gavriel could’ve used his magic to hold back the valg while he went through the gate but decided to stay behind because he couldn’t live thinking his son hated him

• I feel like Aelin has one small scar that survived Maeve and it’s a small scar on her cheek (which would’ve been covered by the mask) that she got from Arobynn absolutely back handing her and she got cut by a ring on his finger

• I can image Aelin being absolutely shit at social cues because Arobynn raised her practically separate from other people for the first few years apart from training with the other assassins in the guild sometimes and when he’d send her on assignments. Rowan realized that quickly and whenever they are in a situation where she’s not picking up certain looks or gestures Rowan just sends down the bond a little reminder to help her

•friendly reminder that Aelin’s fingers were slightly crooked in places before Maeve took her

•We also always had foreshadowing that Elide would end up with lorcan bc Anneith always is protecting Elide and whispering to her, Anneith is the consort to Hellas, and Hellas blessed Lorcan

•I feel like a core memory for manon would be when Lysandra threw up valg guts on lorcan

•I can imagine Aelin going to Rowan asking if he can cut into her back and pull out shards of iron that got caught in her skin bc Yrene was busy and then Rowan just being like a dear in headlights at the request so manon just strolls up and uses her nail like a scalpel and prying out shards of iron that Aelin’s Fae healing couldn’t get out bc Manon is fr a girls girl

•A reminder that when Aelin ran for the wall when she was “escaping” Endovier and when she was “escaping” from Carin. She never planned on escaping either, she planned to have them kill her so she could insure they’d never see her break

•Manon if she could use the internet:

If my boyfriend turns into a girl and I have sex with him does that make me queer?

•If memory works the same for the Fae as they do for humans Aelin will eventually forget what Sam looked like and what his voice sounded like

• After Celaena was sent to Endovior she lost the sheet music Sam gave her and she’s constantly guilty because it was the only gift from him she had apart from his clothes in their flat

•Rowan is Aelin’s mate.

But Sam was Celeanas

•I feel like when Lysandra get into an argument with Aedion and then when Aedion says some stupid shit she just shifts into his body and repeats what he said in a sarcastic/mocking tone

•When lorcan bound him and Elides life together instead of making him have a mortal lifespan it made her have an immortal life span.

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Anyway that’s all for now, sorry for the shit grammar I didn’t proofread