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dragonsdomain · 5 months ago

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Out of Office chapter 6

AO3

Chapter 5

"Hey, hey."

Eugene groaned weakly as a voice penetrated his slumber. Who was that? Where was he? Why did everything hurt? Was he sick?

"Oh, uh, it's just... this is my stop, so I'm gonna go now, okay? And I wanted to make sure you were okay 'cause you don't look too good. So. You good?"

Eugene processed maybe half of whatever that was. He fought to open his eyes, hissing at the light, silently yelling at the world to stop spinning and shut up while he figured out where he was (then feeling bad for being rude to the world). A hand landed on his shoulder, and he jolted back to reality, letting out a little hiss.

"Hey? Dude? Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"

Eugene breathed in air which felt cold. He became aware that he felt hot, and sweaty. Did he have a fever? Wait, that voice was... what was his name. Mike.

"Goodness, is he alright?"

"Er, I don't know. Eugene? Hey?"

Eugene finally processed that Mike wanted a response from him. He didn't want to. He felt hot and grimy and weirdly hollow inside, like parts of him he'd never wanted to be aware of were hanging open and exposed to the air. He finally managed to crack his eyes open and glance down at his chest, which was, strangely, intact.

"Did someone say 'Eugene'?"

Linda? His head was too heavy to look, but after a second, her face appeared in his line of sight. "Eugene? Honey? Are you alright?"

"Uh..." Eugene tried. Just the effort of generating sound made his head spin.

"Do you know him?" Mike asked quietly.

"Yes." Linda smiled at him gently. "I can take care of him from here. Thank you for your help, young man."

"Okay. Thanks. 'Bye. Uh, hope you get better, Eugene."

Linda's presence soon pulled up against Eugene's side, and he sagged against her (taking a second to wonder whether it was her or him that was burning hot).

"Woah, Eugene, don't fall asleep just yet." Linda's hand pointed Eugene's heavy face up toward hers. "Are you sick?"

Eugene fought to keep his eyes open. "I'm... a-uh... th' ghosts..." Oh, he'd tipped forward on her shoulder again. Uh, oops. This seemed like it would be a good time to sleep again, actually. If his head wasn't burning up. That didn't feel good, he'd like it to stop.

"...any water today? Come on, hey. Have you spent lots of time out in the sun? Eugene?"

Loud footsteps came over, and Eugene gritted his teeth as their owner spoke, close and unfamiliar and loud. "Is your son alright? Sick people aren't supposed to be using public transit, you know. At least not without masks."

"We're sorry," Linda said gently, though her voice was still a dagger to Eugene's brain, along with the sounds of everyone breathing and the subway grinding against the train tracks and somebody coughing once and the way every jolt of the train violently jerked Eugene's body up and down. What was going on? Linda was talking again. "...at the next stop."

"Alright, fine. Er, make sure he gets the help he needs. He looks awful."

"Okay," Linda responded cheerfully. As soon as the footsteps retreated again, she whispered sharply into Eugene's ear, "Eugene, I need to know whether to call an ambulance."

He jolted, then heaved a breathy moan. "Not again... I'm poor..."

"Eugene," she said, in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

"Hhh..." Eugene did feel awful, but the last scraps of logic in his brain knew that the hospitals of the living wouldn't have any idea what to do with this. "I'm just sick... and, um. Water. Yeah... need t'... drink water." There, that was a good argument. Eugene's face buried itself in Linda's shoulder again, and he gave a little sigh.

Linda grumbled even as she gently rubbed Eugene's back. "You had better be telling me the truth about this, okay?"

...

Charlie sat blankly on the wooden floor. Luke was standing near her, and she could glance over at the scissors he was holding, half-open, black ichor congealed on the blades.

Charlie couldn't look up, but she could feel the eyes of her father from every direction. At any second, whatever was holding him back-- oh, River's seal-- would fail, and he would reach in and drag her out, away from her friends and the temporary freedom she clung to, and back into the empty, dusty hallways of his control. He was such a large ghost. He must have died with such a burning hatred of her, one that had only been festering for however many years it had been. He would catch her, and this time there would be no escape. He was already dead. He could no longer be killed.

Distantly, Charlie registered Sean giving Luke a rundown on how things worked with evil spirits, on ghost artifacts, and how River's hair was protecting them. Luke's footsteps eventually retreated from the room, and there was the sound of running water. Charlie wished for protection, so she was sitting with her back to a wall, but she could feel the presence of her terrifying father directly on the other side, and felt already imprisoned by the knowledge that she was inches away from touching him. She wondered if she wanted to scoot away from the wall, but she couldn't bring herself to move, except to lean forward onto her knees. Luke's footsteps returned, and he placed her scissors, sparkling and clean, on the wood floor in front of her.

"You okay?" Luke asked gently.

"How much did Sean tell you about the ghost out there?" Charlie rasped.

"A tortured spirit, or 'monster', powerful and dangerous. Must've been nasty when he grabbed you."

"Huh," Charlie said. Her brain registered that Sean didn't know the spirit was her father. Luke didn't know. Somehow none of them had yet figured out that she was the entire reason he'd returned as a monster. That she had murdered him. Fun web of lies she'd woven, delicate as spider silk to be torn to shreds any second.

"Are you okay?" Luke repeated.

Charlie dropped her head back into her knees, waiting for Luke to give up on getting words out of her and leave.

Luke pushed the scissors closer to her.

Charlie closed her eyes. She didn't want to pick it up and then feel just as powerless as before.

"Ugh." Luke grabbed the scissors again and tapped them impatiently against the floor. "Your name is Charlie, right?"

Charlie grumbled out a sigh.

"You're being self loathy, aren't you? I know what that looks like. I know Eugene. Well guess what? You don't get to." Luke took Charlie's hand and placed the scissors into them. "Making yourself suffer by not accepting help from people isn't going to help anything. It's just going to make you feel worse. And I don't know you, but I know Eugene didn't even deserve it. This big ghost showing up isn't your fault."

Charlie tightened her grip around the scissors. "Shut up. I'm not like Eugene. You don't know what you're talking about."

Luke huffed a breath. "Fine. Be like that." He stood up and walked away.

Charlie let her grip loosen again, her scissors hanging off of one finger. Her eyes were wet. "I do deserve it," she whispered.

...

"This is fine, right? I mean, there can be lots of normal reasons why Luke isn't waking up, right?" Oliver asked desperately.

"How old are those smelling salts?" Joy said, ripping them out of Oliver's hand, then sniffing them. She gave a deranged little laugh. "Okay, yeah, these are definitely too old."

Oliver had returned to gently jostling Luke's limp body back and forth. "Luke, hey? Hey? Pleeease wake up."

"Hospitals are so expensive," Joy muttered to herself as she started pacing. "Do you think he has insurance? He's gotta, right? He's a cop. Maybe this isn't that bad, but it would be irresponsible not to take him to the hospital, right?"

"Hospital?" Oliver repeated, voice cracking. "He's-- he's possessed or something, Joy! We've gone and stuck a magic flower we know nothing about in his mouth, and now he's unconscious! Hospitals don't know what to do to fix stuff like that!"

Joy threw her hands apart. "Fine, Mister Supernatural! Then what do you suggest we do?"

Oliver hesitated. He glanced worriedly over at Luke's limp form, then took a deep breath. "I think... we should talk to Eugene."

Joy blinks at him. "What?"

Oliver cringes. "Luke was right. We shouldn't have been doing any of this behind his back. Not just because it was dishonest, but because we didn't know what we were getting into either."

Joy's expression sank. "But... we're so close. We finally have a lead. If we come clean to Eugene and stop now, we'll never find out what's wrong with him."

"We have more important things to worry about right now," Oliver said, pointing at Luke. "Whether or not this is something doctors can treat, Eugene will know how to fix it. It's his flower. We shouldn't have taken it."

Joy sagged against the wall. "Okay. Alright. Get him on the phone."

Oliver pulled up and clicked on Eugene's number, putting it on speaker. It rang into the quiet room as Joy and Oliver waited for Eugene to pick up. Then it reached his generic voicemail.

Joy raised a worried eyebrow at Oliver as the robotic voice listed the unavailable number. The beep sounded, and Oliver spoke into the phone to leave a message. "Hey, Eugene? Please call us back as soon as you can. We need your help." Oliver considered speaking the confession into the phone receiver then, but the words tangled on his tongue. There was an awkward second of silence, then he jabbed the hang up button.

Joy sat down onto a chair, rubbing her arms. "Call him again? Text?"

Oliver gnawed his lip anxiously. "This can't really wait for a text response. Maybe we should go to his house."

Joy combed a hand through her hair. "It might not be a good idea to move Luke though. Should one of us stay with him?" She grimaced. "I can go ahead and do it. This is my fault, anyway."

"Hey, no, if you want to go, go. I'd rather be with Luke so I don't have to be worrying all the time if something else has happened to him."

"You know I'll call you if anything happens out there though," Joy said, grabbing her bag and checking her shoelaces. "And I'll tell you when I find anything out."

"'Kay. Thanks." Oliver gave her a nervous thumbs up. "Good luck."

"Gotcha," Joy said, with an earnest mock salute, then she dashed up the staircase and out the door.

She pulled her own phone out of her pocket as she marched down the street, double checking for texts. Her phone started ringing, and she jumped. Eugene's number. She quickly answered, putting the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, this is Linda," said a matronly voice from the other side. "I'm with Eugene right now and saw you'd called."

"Oh. Hi." Joy pivoted and started speedwalking back towards her house and Oliver. "Could you give the phone to him? I really need to talk to Eugene."

"Alright, just a minute. Or... no, I'm sorry, he's not very lucid right now."

Joy's eyebrows pinched. "What? What's wrong with him?"

"He's dehydrated, I think. We're on our way to my flower shop."

"I'm going to come to you, okay?" Joy turned the phone to speaker so she could tap out a text to Oliver as she continued talking to Linda. "This is pretty important. I have to talk to Eugene."

"Alright then, I'll see you soon. It's 'Linda's Flower Shop'."

"Thank you," Joy said, then hung up.

As she passed her house, Oliver burst out of it and ran up to her. "Hi. Changed my mind. I'm coming too. Door's locked, Luke'll be fine."

Joy snickered, wondering if he'd even seen her text. "Whatever floats your boat."

Oliver grabbed her hand and pulled her along as he started sprinting down the street towards the flower shop.

...

The world faded in and out, and Eugene was slumped into Linda after their conversation for an instant, then being helped unsteadily to his feet the next, then they were heading up the staircase out of the subway station, with most of Eugene's weight supported by Linda (he wasn't completely sure he'd been supporting any of it, but his legs kept on moving as far as he was aware). At one point Linda slowed down to talk to someone on the phone, and Eugene couldn't register what she was saying with the way the words grated on his ears. At least the walk to Linda's flower shop was short enough.

Eugene thought he was probably imagining the aura of hatred choking the air leading closer to the shop. Maybe he was worse off than he thought.

He was forced back to lucidity when he comprehended Oliver and Joy dashing up towards the flower shop just as he and Linda neared it. Why were they here? Did Linda call them in to help him? This might be rough to explain.

The walked up to him and Linda, and Eugene tried to pull himself upright, but the wince on Joy's face made it clear he hadn't managed to fool her.

"Wow, you look bad," said Joy. "Is this really just dehydration?"

Eugene tried to pull out a response for her, but his head was spinning, and for a second it was all he could do to keep from fainting. Oliver stepped forward and slipped an arm under the side where Linda wasn't before Eugene could muster an answer.

"Whatever. Let's get you some water."

That malicious energy Eugene had sensed became powerful, and his eyes widened as he realized it was not in his imagination. Linda reached her hand towards the door of the flower shop. Eugene gripped the lock of River's hair in his pocket and opened his mouth to tell her to stop.

Several things happened very quickly. Linda turned the doorknob, and then cried out as the door was ripped wide open out of her grasp. A force slammed past her, and Oliver's grip was all that kept Linda and Eugene from hitting the pavement. Eugene tried to swing out River's hair, but he was too slow and too weak to do anything more than swipe harmlessly at the air in front of him.

A scream that sounded like Charlie stabbed directly into Eugene's head, then the force shoved back out the door, whipping it roughly against its hinges hard enough they likely would have snapped if not for the hair from River they were tied with.

And all was quiet.

Eugene's head was spinning again, and he spent a minute just doubled over next to Oliver (who was gaping in confusion) trying not to throw up. His chest was hurting again, though he was pretty sure he hadn't actually gotten injured again. Maybe soul wounds could get re-opened? Like when half-healed gashes started bleeding again? He needed to sit down. He needed to lie down. In the shade. Had he dropped River's hair? No, it was still clenched in his hand. He laboriously put it back in his pocket.

Also, what had just happened?

"Eugene?" Oliver nervously asked. "Do you know what that was about? There's no way that was the wind."

Eugene was tired. He was hurting. There was no way he could come up with an excuse. "Don't know," he mumbled breathlessly. A half truth. He could suspect it was a ghost, but he didn't know which one. Unless... there was something on the edge of his realization. What was he forgetting? His head was thick, everything hurt.

"Let's get him inside," Joy said. She sounded really worried. About the ghost? No, wait, about him. 'Cause she didn't know about the ghost.

Nnoooo, not the stairs, he didn't want to struggle up the... now they were at the top of the stairs. Eugene was slipping in and out of consciousness again. Had someone carried him up the stairs? Now both Joy and Oliver were supporting him.

They lowered him gently onto a couch, and Eugene liked how he could sink down into it, though not how warm it was. He could take a nap here. Should he take a nap here?

Presently Eugene noticed that he was alone in some sort of drawing room with Oliver and Joy. Joy was staring at him nervously while Oliver glanced around the room like he was trying to avoid his gaze.

"What?" Eugene asked tiredly.

Joy laughed desperately. "Well, uh, so we might have messed up. A little bit. And we need your help."

Oliver burst out, "We stole your magic flower and Luke put it in his mouth and then he fainted and we don't know what's wrong and we're really sorry and we hate to put this on you when you're sick and we promise we were just trying to help make things easier 'cause we were worried about you but now we've just made things worse and we're so sorry and we'll never do it again."

Eugene squinted, struggling to keep up with how fast Oliver had been talking. "...What?"

Joy grimaced. "Yeah. It was my idea. Probably a bad one. But, well... we were worried about you. How you've been stressed and depressed lately. You've always been so mysterious about your job, and the fact that something happened with it and you couldn't tell us what made us really worried."

Eugene gave a little sigh. He'd guessed this conversation would happen eventually. He'd just wanted to believe that his friends wouldn't ask, that he wouldn't have to try very hard to keep them away from the truth and things would just be fine. Still, he really was not in the condition to be thinking of explanations for everything. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

Joy looked away awkwardly. "I mean, yeah. We need your help with Luke."

"Oh yeah," Eugene responded tiredly. "What did you say about him?"

Oliver responded. "He put your magic flower in his mouth and passed out."

Eugene nearly fell off the couch. "What?" His voice was high pitched. So his flower had been missing this morning... because they'd taken it. "Why'd you-- why'd you think that was a good idea? How long have you been planning this? Was Luke in on this?" He was panting. Had Luke come to visit him just to nab that flower?

"N-no!" Joy flinched. "I-I'm sorry. You're right. This is the wrong time to talk about this. But we need your help with Luke."

Luke. Had put the flower in his mouth. "Oh. Oh no." There was absolutely no way Eugene was going to be able to hide the truth anymore. Eugene sighed, grimacing as his stomach shifted uncomfortably. "Okay... okay. It's-- his ghost is out of his body. But he should be okay. Not sure why he would have left instead of finding a way to communicate with you."

Joy blinked. "You're serious. It really is ghosts."

Eugene groaned. "I didn't want to tell you. You were better off not having to worry about it! Why did you have to butt in on my secrets like this?"

Joy glared. "Hey, it's not our fault you decided to keep us out of all this. Why did you even feel the need to keep it hush hush? How would just knowing ghosts exist hurt us?"

"I mean," Oliver leaned over to Joy and whispered, "You're really fine with all this? You're not going to have an existential crisis about your worldview being shattered?"

"No!" Joy spluttered (even though she absolutely would have an existential crisis as soon as she took the time to actually think about it).

Oliver turned back to Eugene. "You're right. It's completely our fault that Luke is in a predicament right now. We shouldn't have messed with your stuff. And we're sorry." He glanced at Joy doubtfully, and she looked back defiantly before sagging, then nodding in agreement.

Eugene drooped, sinking back into the couch. "...Okay. Whatever. I guess I'll have to see if I can check on him."

Eugene braced himself, then reached into the pocket and pulled out his guardian flower again. Joy and Oliver watched as he laboriously placed it in his mouth, then let himself sink into the couch and fall asleep.

It happened fast, and Eugene sat up as a ghost as his body went limp beneath him. Eugene flinched as the pain in his chest flared up again, and he made the mistake of glancing at it before holding it with his hand and standing up again.

An F-bomb ripped through the room, and Eugene jerked to attention, looking for who had said that. His eyes found Luke, ghost-monochrome in orange, with his hands covering his mouth in horror.

"Oh," Eugene mouthed, using both hands to try to cover as much of his tattered chest as he could.

"Eugene?" Luke stepped up to him, hands hovering towards Eugene's wounds. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, I--" Eugene tried to take a step back, but he felt weak and dizzy, and Luke had to steady him to keep him from falling over.

"H... hi," Eugene mustered when he caught his breath. "Yeah, it's, um, not good."

"Yeesh, dude." Luke helped Eugene back over to the couch. "Do you need a bandage or something? Ghost bandage? Do those exist?"

"Don't think so," Eugene gasped. "It hurts, but I don't think it'll be lethal, 'cause I'm still in one piece."

Luke frowned in worry at Eugene's wound for a minute, watching dark magenta blood clot. He pulled off his shirt and moved Eugene's hands so he could hold it over his wound. "So, I was listening to the conversation you were having with Oliver and Joy. I'm fine, just can't get back to my body right now for some reason, but there are other things to worry about probably sooner."

"'Kay..." Eugene blinked blearily at Luke's hands holding the shirt to his chest.

"Yeah, so, your friend Charlie? She got attacked by this huge tall black ghost a bit ago, and we ran and hid here. The big monster ghost followed us, and when you and Joy and Oliver and Linda (that's her name, right?) opened the door it burst in."

Eugene blinked, his mind starting to register that that was really bad. And-- Oh yeah, he'd told that ghost that Charlie was here. So it was his fault. "Oh," he said. "Where's it now?"

"Yeah, so it grabbed her again and then flew away fast."

"No..." Eugene whispered, ducking his head, wanting to curl in on himself but not being able to 'cause he was bleeding all over Luke's shirt and hands for being a stupid, stupid idiot, who kept making the wrong decisions, who kept hurting the people he should've been helping. He'd told that ghost where Charlie was, then after leading it right to her had let it into the flower shop himself (or at least people with him had). And what could he even do to help her now? He was injured and useless.

"Eugene? Hey, snap out of it!" Luke tapped his shoulder insistently. "Come on, hey, we'll figure this out. She needs to be rescued, right? Is there any way we can rescue her?"

Eugene stared at the floor. Then he sighed. "I need your help."

Chapter 7

#thank you all so much for your kind comments as you waited for this chapter. You kept me going with it #Underworld Office #Charlie in Underworld #my fanfics #Out of Office #Charlie UWO #Eugene UWO #Luke UWO #Joy UWO #Oliver UWO #Sean UWO #Charlie's father UWO #Mike UWO #Linda UWO #tw injury #tw blood

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strgzrcharles · 6 months ago

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maybe you can yo Joy??

your colouring is gorgeous btw

Day 3 of drawing underworld office fanart every day:

THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'm so happy :}

Here is Joy! (I know she doesn't appear all that much but I still think she's underrated)

#underworld office #charlie in underworld #underworld office Joy #fanart #my art

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pocket-ghostie · 7 months ago

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Drew the Underworld Office guys again <3

This page wasn't going to the them and then... uhhh... this happened :D

#I really like how Charlie came out!!!!#I love drawing them ngl #also if your wondering the top of this lage Does have more drawings on it.#but it's not Underworld Office so...#like I said... this wasn't supposed to be a Underworld Office page....#but then I drew Joy and the rest you can see <3 #it was going to be a Phoenix wright ace attorney page...... lol I love Underworld Office too much #anyways.... They are silly <3 #underworld office #uwo #underworld office eugene #underworld office joy #underworld office charlie #underworld office river #underworld office boss #my art

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alterkishi · 10 months ago

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they need to be classmates at some point frfr-

Edit... Of Charlie... As Eug classmate...

#underworld office #charlie in underworld #uwo #eugene uwo #charlie uwo #luke uwo #joy uwo #oliver uwo #underworld office eugene #reblogs #re: uwo/ciu #awesome art from other awesome artists!

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thegayenbydownstreets · 4 months ago

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Joy from my post-charlie in underworld au :>

#underworld office #charlie in underworld #uwo #ciu #underworld office joy #underworld office Oliver #charlie in underworld joy #charlie in underworld Oliver #Charlie In Underworld Au

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anpanham · 11 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel character thoughts / impressions (Episodes 1 & 2)

1/12/24

UM. what a weird first actual post for my blog for this year... this is long, and i miss making ACTUAL blog posts instead of small threads... And i've explained on my twitter my thoughts on Hazbin / Helluva from a critical standpoint and artist from art separation, yadda yadda yadda---

ANYWAY... Episodes 1 and 2 of Hazbin are (Officially) out now, and i have some thoughts on the characters i wrote down after watching (In bullet points, because most of these are fresh-from-the-brain thoughts i wrote on my tablet from my bed)

(Spoiler alert, Sir Pentious isn't ruined and I AM SO GLAD. my snake babygirl... ilu)

Read on, if you wanna, spoiler warning btw!!!!!

CHARLIE NOTES

-Charlie is good., Charlie is cute, but i fear for her safety, not everyone can new redeemed. she's like steven universe at points i stg 😭 (not a jab but i think it's funny)

-i like how they gave Charlie bags under her eyes a lot, she is a tired princess just like all of us

-She gives off elementary school teacher vibes but in a wholesome way

-Charlie's hair is SO CUTE MESSY..

-PERFECT voice /gen

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- VAGGIE NOTES

-GIRLBOSS (still, but more)

-Vaggie is still cool, she just loves her gf and is sick of everyone's bs but is still supportive...

-If she doesn't get into a bloody death match with Alastor (and win) i will be disappointed /hj

She doesn't seem to have as much of a temper as she did in the pilot, but seems more dead inside

-Good voice!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ANGEL DUST NOTES

-Angel... hm. Angel. he's Angel, for sure. Hi, Angel!

Insecure about a lot, but also YOU CAN BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT!!!!! if vox doesn't kill val angel should. please and thank u.

Also his voice is alright, just need to get used to it a little more

Also i hope he's not too bratty jealous of sirpent / whoever else charlie praises because again, it's ON HIM TO COOPERATE WITH HER CAUSE MORE??? ignoring his other stress sources (Val)

-Waiting for him and Husk to kiss. I know it's coming

-Just fucking block Val's number and rip up the contract (YES i know it goes deeper than that...)

-NUGGS. I SCREECHED IRL /POS

THEY GAVE HIM A HEART ON HIS BUTT!!!!! S TIER REDESIGN

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ALASTOR NOTES

-At first i was kinda Eh about his voice but it's grown on me, the radio filter is a little more subtle than the pilot but it's still there which i'm glad for

Delightfully passive aggressive

-Weird magic still, there doesn't seem to be any limits to it... we need to know what his weakness is...!!!!! please (maybe that will come later??) ....... i theorize he has underworld contact (Shadow-world, because of the shadow imagery?) , the underworld might be different from Hell maybe? (Where do those fucking tentacles come from, also weird monochrome demons)

-Interesting he was gone for 7 years. 7 is an angelic number. HMMMMMM (sealed away by angels somehow??)

-Punchable (Vaggie please)

-Weirdly enjoyable and not genuinely hateable like some of the other characters, but i also want to see his demise, maybe his sadism is rubbing off on me, but i want to see it badly...

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SIR PENTIOUS NOTES

-Sir Pentious... u are so good.. probably has some of the best writing so far, maybe... he's my favorite so. hhHHmm

his voice is different but at the same time it's what you'd expect, i like it a lot... so silly, i pat him and his silly hat

-Pathetic old man. You win my heart (50x as much)

-Only one egg spoke so far, i wonder if they'll all have unique voices this time (the Japanese dub of the pilot did that lol)

-Genuinely a joy every moment he was onscreen (Too fucking cute... GRRRR)

-How did he get into contact with Vox? Why would Vox want anything to do with him if he thinks he's a loser? (I guess easy access into the Hotel) ...Fuck em either way (DON'T BE MEAN TO SNAKE MAN)

-Cool temporary stunning hypnosis, maybe we'll see him coil and bite next, the snake attack traits are fun

-His autism vibes grow stronger and it's canon in my heart

-We LOVE a redemption song. please stay in the hotel with everyone, don't fuck it up!!! you're a good noodle.... 😭 The song was genuinely so cute... it's probably going to be the highlight of EVERYTHING for me, besides Nuggs..

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HUSK NOTES

-i luv u kitty

-His voice is different but captures "Grumpy old alcoholic" perfectly

-His heart needs to be melted...

-Him holding the script in front of the camera was great

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- NIFFTY NOTES

-Niffty is a BIG COWARD. you can still love a "Bad boy" who's a redeemed bad boy!!!! just because he's not morally bad doesn't Not make him a Bad Boy. fuck u (i still like you)

-Her voice is really cute, also her nightgown.. though finding out she doesn't have dark bug limbs but is just wearing gloves and stockings surprised me more than it should've... put them back

-Also autism vibes, love it

-She still frightens me a bit

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V TRIO NOTES

VOX -----

-Seems to carry the team, voice has grown on me

-I can't stop looking at his weird finger claws, they almost look like

he's just wearing things over his fingers, i dig it

-Interesting hypnosis power, i assume Alastor is immune

-Why can't Alastor and Vox just compromise and create a podcast?

-Hates Val (sorry shippers) ,,... kind of expected it since in old official sources it's been shown that he's been abused by Val too

-This isn't a note but everytime Alastor said "THE TV IS BUFFERING~" in their duet, the player kept fucking up 😭

-Decent song, I like seeing him and Al argue

-I surprisingly don't hate him! i'm glad. i wanted to like him (though, it's only been 2 episodes so far...)

------

VALENTINO ---------

-More manchild vibes than i expected tbh

-Voice is alright but his accent is weirdly inconsistent for some reason???? interesting direction

-His manipulation is shown well in the voicemail scene with Angel, he's literally got the "Nice Guy" energy

-Surprisingly didn't order Vox around as much as i thought he would

-Why does he have girl Fizzy bots...

-Die?

------

VELVETTE

-Fashion design isn't something i expected, but then again i didn't know that much about her prior other than she's obsessed with social media

-British is also not what i expected but cool

-Uh. she didn't really stick out to me that much...sorry..... she's fine tho

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ADAM & LUTE NOTES

-Personally do not like how these angels look so menacing, i get that they're technically bad, but... make them look more angelic besides halos and wings??? they could easily be mistaken for hell residents. Also again, i feel like angels should swear less and drop swears in critical / good timed moments, it would be funnier... subtlety is not a thing i guess

-Adam's guitar solo was good tho, not really feeling his character tho, he's just an asshole but that's the point

-Adam looks like the fucking dress meme. I can't unsee it

-Lute is pretty...

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KATIE KILLJOY & TOM TRENCH NOTES

-Brandon Rodgers

-They sure were there for a second!

-i luv tom

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All in all...

Episode 1: 6-7/10

Episode 2: 8.5/10

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rainforestakiie · 18 days ago

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AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Devil's Night~

gosh, i'm so happy. i really love this idea. it is inspired by @things-arent-what-they-seem66's AU of adam and lilith switching places.

i know harvest is over but i have a few more things to write!

hope you all enjoy it!

part 01 - part 02

@adamsappleweek

Hell felt different now. Smoke hung heavy, thicker than usual, as though mourning in silence, and the very ground under Lucifer’s hooves pulsed with a faint, restless throb, like a wound struggling to close. He stood in solemn stillness, his back perfectly arched, hands folded over the twisted surface of his apple-wood cane, fingers tapping rhythmically as if to an unseen clock counting down something. His gaze, red and yellow like smouldering embers, fixed on the lifeless form of Adam sprawled on the darkened ground, surrounded by a shimmer of golden liquid and the soft glint of fallen feathers.

Adam lay motionless, eyes shut, lips the colour of a fading bruise. Lucifer’s throat tightened. Part of him wanted to whisper thanks to his daughter, Charlie, for guarding Adam’s body from the ravenous cannibals of the underworld, but he knew if he opened his mouth, his voice would crack, betraying him.

The silence pressed in, cold and oppressive, creeping into his bones. Hell was hot, stifling, but Lucifer felt chilled to his core—a hollow, biting emptiness that gnawed at him. His gaze remained unbroken, staring with a strange, desperate hope that this was some twisted joke. Perhaps any moment now, Adam would shift, laugh in that carefree, Edenish way of his, and sit up, as vibrant and stubborn as ever. But Adam remained still, silent, chest unmoving. An uncontrollable shiver ran through Lucifer, twisting painfully in his stomach.

He had never truly believed Adam could die. He had always assumed—no, convinced himself—that Adam would outlive them all, his spirit too relentless to surrender. And somewhere, hidden in the darkest corners of Lucifer's heart, was a naïve sliver of hope that Adam would eventually come back to him. That the bond they had once shared in Eden, a bond so profound it had nearly eclipsed the heavens themselves, would find a way to mend. They would rebuild, somehow. It would be different, yes, but they would laugh together again, walk side by side once more. Those stolen moments in Eden, when Lucifer was Adam’s guardian angel and Adam, his purpose… those memories clung to him, a bittersweet poison he couldn’t let go of.

Back then, Adam had been his everything. His duty, his joy, his reason to exist. Lucifer remembered the thrill that had sparked through him, the first time he heard the voice of God declare his purpose. He was to be Adam’s protector, his guide, his companion in that boundless garden. And he had thrown himself into that role, relished it. He had loved Adam in a way he hadn’t understood at the time. The garden had been theirs alone. No one else existed in that timeless paradise, only him and Adam, with eternity stretched out before them like a golden promise.

But then Lilith entered the garden, and everything had unravelled. He thought he had loved her, thought she understood him, saw him for who he truly was beneath the wings and heavenly light. He had let his heart slip through his fingers, foolishly entrusting her with every secret, every fractured part of himself. He had given her everything: a home, a family, the taste of power. Yet, for her, it was never enough. She wanted more, always something beyond his reach, until she had finally abandoned him and Charlie the moment something more alluring came her way. The emptiness she left was raw, a void gnawing at him even now.

He had tried to convince himself he deserved it—that he was vile, selfish, the snake of Eden. He had thought he deserved every torment she dealt him, every moment of betrayal. He had hurt Adam, and that wound, though buried, had never fully healed. He could still see Adam’s green eyes, filled with tears and betrayal, piercing through the centuries. That look had seared itself into Lucifer’s soul, a scar he tried endlessly to ignore. The first betrayal had been shattering. But there were others. With each one, he had watched something precious in Adam’s eyes die, replaced by a steely resolve, a silent ache that mirrored Lucifer’s own.

During their last battle—the one that had forever severed the fragile thread between them—Lucifer had let slip a remark about Eve. He had done it to provoke Adam, to elicit some reaction, any reaction, just to feel Adam’s gaze on him again, even if it was filled with fury. But Adam’s reaction hadn’t been what he’d expected.

That fleeting hint of betrayal in his eye—the exact shade Lucifer knew so well—had cut deeper than any physical blow could. Adam hadn’t been blind to it, hadn’t let it slide as Lucifer had hoped. The anger had transformed into something colder, something Lucifer couldn’t quite name, but it lingered, long after they parted.

Now, standing here, watching Adam’s motionless form, Lucifer felt the full weight of those mistakes crashing over him, a tidal wave of remorse he could no longer fend off. Every unspoken word, every fractured promise, every fleeting glance they had shared in Eden came flooding back to him with agonizing clarity. The irony was sharp—Adam, his purpose, his only joy, lay gone, and Lucifer was left adrift, lost in a void he had fashioned for himself. The garden, their laughter, their whispered secrets beneath the endless, star-strewn sky… all of it had turned to ash, leaving Lucifer alone with nothing but the ghosts of memories that would never fade, haunting him like shadows he could never escape.

Lucifer clenched his eyes shut, the whispers of memories swelling in his mind, pressing into the silence until they filled the air around him. He could hear it all—every laugh, every teasing remark, every stolen moment under Eden’s endless skies. The phantom echoes of their laughter rang through his ears, so vivid it felt as if Adam were right there beside him again, as though any second he’d feel Adam’s hand slap his back or hear him call his name with that familiar, playful lilt. He could almost smell the dewy grass and the scent of fresh, untainted earth that had once been their playground, their sanctuary.

They had been so close, he and Adam, so tightly bound by a friendship that felt eternal, unbreakable. Lucifer’s heart had belonged entirely to Adam in those days, every bit of him dedicated to his charge, to his purpose. Adam had been his light, his reason to be, his only true companion in the vast, bewildering beauty of the garden. And yet, Lucifer had lost it all, torn it apart with his own hands, with his own selfish heart. He’d destroyed something precious, something he thought could never be lost. He’d always believed they’d somehow find their way back to each other. That one day, Adam would look at him with those green eyes, softened with forgiveness, and they’d be… something again. Friends, perhaps. Or more.

A soft, broken sniff escaped him, and he forced his eyes open, the agony tightening in his chest as his gaze fell once more on Adam’s still, lifeless body. His sharp teeth clenched as his hooves trembled beneath him. He took a faltering step forward, his legs weak, as if the weight of centuries was pressing down on them, the memories and regrets dragging him down. His knees felt brittle, ready to buckle as he moved closer. His eyes burned, a stinging heat prickling at them, growing worse with each step until he found himself standing directly over Adam’s body. He looked down, his chest tight, his breath ragged, hardly daring to believe this was real.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp, clinging to some thread of hope that seemed to slip further from his grasp. His gaze was fixated on Adam’s chest, willing it to rise, to betray some hidden breath.

“Hey, oi… this isn’t funny.” His claws tightened around the apple-wood cane, his knuckles whitening, desperate to ground himself against the unrelenting horror of the truth. “Adam, this isn’t funny. Stop… stop playing around.”

His voice cracked, shaky and hollow. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he searched Adam’s face for any sign of movement, any flicker of those warm, golden eyes. But Adam remained still, lips tinted blue, his skin pallid under the dim, smoky light. Lucifer’s hands trembled, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees, his cane clattering to the ground beside him.

“Please…”

The word slipped out, soft and broken, barely a whisper. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the cold skin of Adam’s cheek. The chill bit into him, a harsh, unyielding reminder that this wasn’t a nightmare he could wake from. He closed his eyes again, unable to bear the sight of Adam like this, and the memories surged back once more, flooding him with bittersweet echoes.

“Do you remember, Adam?” he murmured, voice barely holding together, his hand resting gently against Adam’s cheek. “Do you remember… the nights we’d talk until the stars began to fade? When we’d chase each other through the trees, laughing like nothing else in all creation mattered?”

His voice wavered, choked by the memories, by the weight of a love he’d buried so deeply he’d almost forgotten how much it hurt.

The memories of Eden shimmered behind his eyes—memories of Adam grinning, his face lit up with that carefree, boyish charm that Lucifer had adored. Memories of Adam leaning on him, both talking under the vastness of the heavens, lost in their own world, a world they had once believed would never end.

But it had ended. He’d been the one to end it.

And now, here he was, left alone with nothing but his regrets and the fading whispers of a love that could never be repaired. His shoulders sagged as he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Adam’s. He spoke again, his voice barely more than a breath, as though he feared the silence would shatter beneath the weight of his words.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the confession torn from him like a piece of his soul. “I’m so… sorry.”

But Adam remained silent, cold, unyielding, and for the first time, Lucifer understood the full extent of his loss, the emptiness that would haunt him for eternity. His hand slipped from Adam’s cheek, his head bowing as the first, silent tear fell.

Lucifer shuffled closer on his knees, inch by inch, his face warming with a painful flush as his eyes misted over.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, voice quivering as he leaned over Adam’s body.

His fingers trembling as they reached out, brushing just the edge of the bloodstained fabric. He wanted to touch Adam’s hand, to feel that familiar warmth once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. His breath hitched, his hands hovering, shaking, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I was supposed to be your guardian, Adam,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I was made for you… to protect you, to be whatever you needed, whatever you deserved.”

He swallowed, his chest tight as the words clawed their way out, raw and unfiltered. “But I failed you. I failed you in ways I can’t even… can’t even justify.”

His fingers trailed across Adam’s robe, tracing the familiar folds, the dark stains of blood, each one a reminder of how far they’d fallen from what they once were.

He took a shaky breath, his mind dragging him back to the painful memories, to Lilith.

“She was… God, she was everything to me then,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought… I thought I loved her. I thought she saw me in a way no one else ever had. I thought she understood me. She was fierce, and powerful, and beautiful, and I thought—”

His voice broke, and he looked down, the shame tightening like a vice around his heart. “I thought she would stay. I thought… I thought she wanted me, that she wanted what we could build together. I cut off my own wings for her, gave up everything I had, my power, my place in heaven. And then, at the first chance she got, she left. Left me and Charlie as if we were nothing.”

He let out a bitter laugh, empty and hollow. “But maybe… maybe I deserved it. I had it coming, didn’t I? For what I did to you.”

His gaze flickered to Adam’s face, hoping desperately to see a flicker of forgiveness, but Adam remained still, cold and lifeless. Lucifer clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep going, to lay everything bare before him.

“You saw us, didn’t you?” he whispered. “Back in Eden. You saw Lilith and me… together. And I knew. I knew it wasn’t fair to you, that you didn’t understand. You didn’t deserve that, Adam. You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, to be left alone, wondering what happened to me, wondering why everything changed.”

He looked away, ashamed. “And I can’t explain myself. I wish I could. I want to, but… I don’t know what happened. I was so… blinded. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I was too wrapped up in her, in what I thought I felt for her.”

His voice dropped to a whisper; his words laced with regret. “But before Lilith, it was always you. It was always you, Adam. I was so… so sure I loved you, I just didn’t know it then. I loved every moment we spent together. I would have done anything for you, anything to make you happy. And then Lilith appeared, and it was like… I lost sight of everything, even myself. And I’m so sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry for hurting you like that. I can’t… I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

His breath came faster, his heart racing as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching Adam’s.

“Please,” he gasped, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Please believe me, Adam… please, just believe me.”

But Adam didn’t move. His chest remained still, his lips unmoving, his eyes closed. Adam was gone, lost to him forever, and there was no forgiveness left to give.

And the truth was, it didn’t end there. He knew that. It had only gotten worse. With every betrayal, every hurtful word, he had crushed any possibility of Adam ever forgiving him. The garden’s peace had been shattered the day he offered Eve the apple of knowledge, sealing their fates, twisting their lives in ways they could never repair. And… he’d done worse, so much worse. Seducing Eve, leading her astray beneath the same tree where he and Lilith had once been together—it was a cruelty he couldn’t justify, a cruelty he could barely comprehend. God, what had he been thinking? What kind of twisted satisfaction had he found in that, in taking from Adam everything that mattered?

He had shattered Adam’s life piece by piece, and yet, even then, Adam had been forced to face him time and time again. When Heaven and Hell would meet, when Sera dragged Adam into those dreadful meetings, he’d seen the reluctance, the pain in Adam’s eyes, how he didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to face either him or Lilith. But he had no choice. And Lucifer… he hadn’t been kind. Neither he nor Lilith had shown him an ounce of mercy. They had ridiculed him, humiliated him, found twisted joy in watching him squirm, powerless and betrayed. And why? Why had he been so cruel? What purpose had it served?

He looked down, his heart aching as he remembered those meetings, the way Adam had silently endured every word, every insult, sitting there, taking it, never once fighting back. Adam had suffered, and Lucifer had watched, almost revelling in it, as if punishing Adam would somehow heal the cracks in his own broken heart. As if hurting Adam could numb his own pain. But he had only hurt himself in the end, lost the one person who had ever mattered to him.

And when the Extermination finally came, when the heavens unleashed their wrath, Lucifer had known, deep down, that they deserved it. Every drop of blood, every scream, every life lost—he and Lilith had brought it upon themselves. They had forced Adam’s hand, driven him to the breaking point. And now, here he was, kneeling in front of Adam’s lifeless form, begging for forgiveness that would never come.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to Adam’s cold chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words broken and raw. “I’m so sorry… I’m so… so sorry…”

And there, in the quiet, he finally allowed himself to cry, his tears falling like ashes, a silent lament for the life he had destroyed, for the love he had lost forever.

With trembling hands, Lucifer finally reached out, his fingers brushing over Adam’s chest, desperate to feel any sign of life, any hint of warmth. But there was nothing. No steady drum of a heartbeat, no soft rise and fall of breath. Just silence, a vast and hollow silence that ripped through him like a jagged blade.

His eyes widened, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as memories surged to the surface. In Eden, he had often rested his head against Adam’s chest, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been one of his favourite things, to lie there and listen to that soft, steady pulse. It had felt like… like home. It had felt like safety, like something real and lasting. He had loved it, loved Adam, loved him more than he had ever been able to admit.

But now—now there was nothing. Just silence.

Lucifer's throat tightened as he leaned down, pressing his face against Adam’s chest, willing the warmth back, willing that familiar heartbeat to start up again. He held his breath, straining his ears, hoping, begging for the faintest thump of life. Just one beat, one inhale, anything. But there was nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

A sob wrenched from his throat, harsh and broken, as the realization finally crashed over him, too powerful to deny. Adam was gone. Truly gone. There would be no laughter, no teasing words, no forgiveness. The connection he had always felt with Adam, that subtle warmth in the back of his mind that told him Adam was alive, was… gone. Severed, leaving only an aching, freezing emptiness in its place. For the first time in eons, Lucifer felt truly, utterly alone.

He clutched at Adam’s robes, his claws slicing through the fabric as he buried his face deeper into Adam’s chest, his sobs tearing through him, raw and desperate.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken breath. “Please… please come back. Adam, please… I’m begging you. Just… just come back.”

But Adam lay silent, unmoving, his body a hollow shell. His soul, the vibrant light that had filled Lucifer’s darkest moments with hope, with warmth, was gone. Lost to him forever.

Lucifer clutched harder, his claws rending the cloth, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Addie,” he choked out, the nickname slipping from his lips as if by instinct, a final, broken plea to the friend he had loved and failed. “I’m so… so sorry.”

He lay there, crushed beneath the weight of his own grief, pressing his face into Adam’s chest as if he could somehow force life back into him, as if he could somehow undo all the harm he had done. But the silence was deafening, a cruel, unyielding reminder that it was too late. Adam was gone, and no amount of sorrow, no amount of regret could bring him back.

Lucifer’s cries echoed through the barren, smoking expanse of Hell, raw and unrestrained, like a wound torn open, bleeding out all the pain and love he had carried for so long, hidden even from himself. And for the first time, Lucifer understood the full measure of his loss. There would be no redemption, no second chance. The love he had been too proud, too blind to claim was gone, leaving him hollow, shattered in a way that no amount of time could heal.

And there, alone in the endless silence, Lucifer wept, clutching Adam’s lifeless form as if he could somehow hold onto him, even as everything he had ever loved slipped through his fingers, leaving nothing but an aching void where his heart had once been.

Lucifer’s body was numb, every muscle trembling and strained as he finally stepped back from Adam’s grave. Beneath the smoky sky of Hell, in his hidden garden—a small oasis of fragile memories and forbidden nostalgia—Adam now rested. The garden had been Lucifer’s sanctuary, his one secret, private place built from the remnants of Eden that still clung to his soul. It was his slice of paradise in the darkness, a testament to the life and love he’d lost. Lilith had scoffed at it, her distaste a constant reminder of their fractured souls and desires, but he had never let go. The garden had been everything to him.

Slowly, Lucifer lowered himself to his knees, his hand hovering over the freshly turned earth. His claws brushed the soil, and as his fingers spread, a stream of red carnations and roses bloomed from the earth, unfurling over Adam’s grave like blood-red whispers. The blossoms curled around his fingers, soft and warm, almost as if they carried Adam’s presence.

"I’m so sorry, Addie,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from days of weeping. He traced the petals with delicate care, caressing the earth as though it were Adam himself. “I wish things had been different. I wish I’d known… I wish I’d understood what you truly meant to me back in Eden.”

Lucifer’s voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, the weight of his regret pressing down like an ocean. He had always thought he had time, always thought he could mend things one day, that somehow, he could make Adam see the love he had hidden, buried deep under pride and mistakes. But there was no longer time—just this garden and a grave he had made for the only one who had ever really understood him.

“I turned you into something you weren’t,” he continued, his tears flowing freely. “You were gentle… so full of life. That angel who became a soldier, who destroyed so much—he wasn’t you. He was my shadow, my mistake. You deserved so much better.”

He wiped a tear away, though more kept coming, unbidden. “I wish I could have made you happy.”

He struggled to his hooves, his body exhausted, but as he rose, a glint of gold caught his eye. He paused, his heart lurching painfully. A golden feather lay on the ground, dusted with earth yet still gleaming faintly in the dimness. He bent down and picked it up with reverent fingers, holding it to his chest as his vision blurred with fresh tears. Adam’s feathers had always captivated him, their radiance beyond anything he had seen. They had been perfect, beautiful… like Adam himself.

With a shaking breath, Lucifer held the feather close, pressing it against his heart as though it could fill the empty void that Adam’s loss had left behind.

“I love you, Addie,” he whispered to the flowers, to the silence, to the golden thread of memory still tethered to his heart. “I know you never believed me… but I did. I do. Even if I ruined everything, even if I hurt you. I love you.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he bowed his head, clutching the feather as if it were his lifeline. He had made terrible, unforgivable choices—choices that had cost him Eden, that had shattered whatever Adam, and he had once shared. And now he was alone, doomed to live in a Hell he could never escape.

A quiet, desperate plea escaped his lips, broken and raw. “I wish… I wish I could die too. To be anywhere but here, to be free… but Hell won’t let me go.”

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, weighed down by endless despair, and he closed his eyes, cradling the feather as though it were Adam himself. He cast one last lingering look at the grave before he disappeared in a shuddering burst of golden flame.

He reappeared in his chambers, the cold and darkness pressing in on him as he sank down onto his bed. Around him, rubber ducks filled the room in bright, absurd little heaps, mocking him with their silly smiles. They were his only companions now, his only solace. Adam was gone. There was no one left.

Lucifer crawled into the pile, uncaring as the ducks scattered and tumbled around him, and clutched Adam’s feather to his face, breathing in its faint, lingering scent. He curled up tightly, his wings folded around him as he nestled into the feather, as if trying to burrow into the memory of the man he had lost.

In the silence, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to ebb, but it only sharpened, growing more intense as he nuzzled the feather, desperate for any remaining trace of Adam. He lay there, alone, his broken heart bleeding into the darkness, haunted by the love he had lost and the choices he could never undo.

Lucifer’s eyes felt gritty, his head pounding as he slowly stirred from a cold, fitful sleep. The darkness seemed alive, pressing in on him like a weight, filling his chest with a pain that twisted and grew until he whimpered, his claws clutching at the thick blankets tangled around him. As he drifted into sleep, his mind unravelled into strange, painful visions—memories and dreams stitched together into a haunting tapestry.

He saw Adam, standing in Eden’s sunlight, looking as he had in the earliest days—soft, serene, his golden wings shining as he laughed, his warm gaze fixed on Lucifer. Lucifer reached out, heart swelling with a desperate need to close the distance, to be with Adam again in their paradise. He stumbled forward, calling out promises he’d failed to keep, promises to do better, to be better for Adam. But Adam only stood there, smiling that same distant, heartbreaking smile, as though Lucifer’s words were a faint echo.

The harder Lucifer tried to reach him, the further Adam seemed to drift, like a mirage on the edge of his vision. Lucifer’s six wings beat furiously as he tried to fly, but the space between them widened, and his strength faltered. He stumbled, his robes—once pure and pristine—dragging him down as he fell to the earth. Mud splattered over him, and when he looked down, he saw his hooves—his demonic, twisted form reflecting back at him. One of his eyes had turned red, dark and unholy, a cruel reminder of what he had become.

Adam stood there, golden and radiant, watching him with unreadable eyes before turning, his wings folding as he started to walk away.

“Wait,” Lucifer gasped, his voice raw, clawing at the earth to pull himself forward. “Please, Addie, wait! Don’t leave me!”

But Adam only grew smaller, his image fading until there was nothing but a memory slipping away like sand through his fingers. Lucifer screamed into the darkness, his voice breaking with grief.

With a strangled gasp, he jolted awake, heart pounding as he sat up, clutching his chest. His chamber was dim and quiet, the dark blankets draping over him like the weight of his despair. His skin felt clammy and wrong, as though he were covered in a thin layer of despair he couldn’t shake. Curling forward, he hugged his knees, his claws digging into the quilt as choked sobs slipped from his lips. The pain of loss, of loneliness, stabbed into him like shards of ice.

Suddenly, a gentle, almost ethereal touch grazed his shoulder, soft and warm. Lucifer froze, his body going rigid as a familiar voice broke the silence, filled with tenderness.

“Luci… did you have a nightmare?”

He dared not breathe. His pulse roared in his ears as he slowly turned, his gaze locking onto a pair of golden eyes—soft, kind, impossibly familiar. For a moment, he could only stare, feeling as if he’d slipped into yet another dream. The face before him, full of compassion and warmth, was one he’d thought lost forever.

“A-Adam?” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes grew wide, disbelief painting every line of his face.

Adam looked at him with gentle concern, his golden eyes glowing faintly. “Hey, Luci… you look pale. Are you alright?”

He raised a hand to touch Lucifer’s face, but Lucifer jerked back, as if burned. His heart raced, his mind reeling as he scrambled backward, his gaze darting around the room.

He blinked, noticing that the cramped piles of rubber ducks—his bizarre, lonely treasures—were gone. In their place were shelves filled with carefully arranged, exquisite little ducks, each displayed with precision and care. His chamber seemed larger, familiar yet somehow transformed, warmer.

"Luci?" Adam’s voice brought him back, and Lucifer turned to see Adam still sitting there, his eyes filled with a soft, steady patience. He was so close, so real—Lucifer could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. Adam poked his cheek playfully, brows knitting in confusion.

“Are you alright? Did you hit your head?”

Lucifer’s breath caught. He stared at Adam, searching his gaze for some sign, some confirmation of what he was seeing.

“What… what’s going on?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Why are you… why are you here? Why are you in my bed?”

Adam chuckled softly, his expression as open and pure as it had been in Eden. “Luci, how hard did you hit your head?”

He reached out, his hand brushing Lucifer’s hair with a tenderness that made Lucifer’s heart ache.

Lucifer swallowed, his mind racing. This couldn’t be real—it was impossible. But as he looked into Adam’s golden eyes, feeling the soft warmth of his touch, he felt something long dead flicker within him, fragile and terrified of breaking.

“Addie…” he breathed, reaching out, his fingers hovering just inches from Adam’s cheek, too afraid to touch. The reality of Adam’s warmth, his nearness, felt like a forbidden dream. "Is it… really you?"

Adam smiled softly, the warmth of his presence settling around them both like a balm. "It’s me, Luci. I’m here.”

Lucifer’s heart skipped, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn’t felt in eons. The ache that had haunted him for so long began to soften, the darkness retreating just enough to let in a flicker of hope.

Lucifer’s body surged forward with a frantic energy, scrambling onto the bed with a clumsy urgency. His usually pristine golden hair was a dishevelled mess, wild locks sticking out as if echoing the storm of emotions within him. Reaching for Adam’s hands, Lucifer clasped them tightly, his fingers trembling. He let out a shaky, half-choked laugh that dissolved into a sound halfway between wonder and despair.

“You’re… you’re alive! Addie, you’re alive,” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief, each word a shuddering breath as though speaking might shatter the fragile reality before him. His heart, long numbed by guilt and despair, throbbed now with a vulnerable intensity.

Adam’s golden eyes, warm yet puzzled, met his with a quiet concern, his gentle gaze unchanging, almost cautious. But Lucifer couldn’t stop. Words spilled from him like a dam bursting, rushing forward in an almost feverish cascade.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so—so sorry. Please, forgive me. For everything I did, everything I didn’t do. I never wanted to hurt you; I just… I just wanted us to be close again. I ruined it all, Addie. I don’t deserve—”

His voice cracked, the words piling up, unable to keep pace with the grief he’d buried so deep.

As Lucifer leaned forward, trying to draw closer to Adam, he suddenly stopped, his chest jolting as something solid pressed against him, keeping him just out of reach. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced down, seeing the curve of the blankets bulging slightly, pressed firm against his stomach. Whatever was hidden beneath them felt solid, almost weighty, and he instinctively reached to pull the covers back, baffled.

Adam giggled softly, a rosy blush colouring his cheeks. “I think I’ve gotten… bigger,” he murmured, an air of shy humour in his voice.

Lucifer blinked, his gaze darting from Adam’s face back down to the mysterious curve beneath the covers. It was then he noticed how strikingly different Adam looked: healthier, more radiant, his cheeks free of the hollow shadows and weariness Lucifer remembered. Adam’s skin seemed to almost glow, and atop his head were two delicate horns, a soft shade of blue that stirred memories of his own former self, back before the fall.

Adam fidgeted slightly, his expression shifting to one of slight embarrassment.

“You don’t think I’m… fat, do you?” he asked, eyes dropping self-consciously, though they glimmered with a touch of humour.

Fat? Lucifer thought, dazed. He remembered a time he’d teased Adam about putting on weight, but now his throat tightened with remorse. Shaking his head, he murmured, “No, Addie. You’re not… you’re not fat. You’re beautiful, like always.”

He leaned forward, but again that mysterious object kept them apart. Growing impatient, Lucifer carefully drew back the quilt, eyes widening as the reality settled over him.

The rounded swell of Adam’s stomach was unmistakable, pressing against the soft blue fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t the softness of excess but rather a firm, natural curve—like a promise, a secret harbouring a fragile new life. Lucifer’s mouth dropped open as he stared in shock.

“You’re… you’re pregnant,” he whispered, a high, incredulous pitch to his voice, awe and disbelief mingling in his words. “How—how did this happen?”

Adam laughed, a soft, musical sound that seemed to fill the room with warmth. His cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he reached down, placing a gentle hand over the curve of his stomach.

“I think you know exactly how, Luci,” he teased, voice tender, but with a knowing light in his eyes. “Six months ago… don’t you remember? It was after our anniversary.”

Anniversary? What did that even mean?

Lucifer’s mind spun, the ancient gears in his head struggling to find traction. His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp Adam’s words, though they slipped through his understanding like sand. The weight of confusion pressed on him as he blinked furiously, shifting his gaze to steady himself, to ground himself in Adam's presence.

"It was just after our 300th anniversary," Adam murmured softly, a warm hum that filled the room. He wore a gentle, almost shy smile as he glanced down at the small but unmistakable swell of his belly. "It was… a bit of a surprise. Neither of us expected it—not after Charlie. But we’re happy, aren’t we?”

Adam’s gaze lifted, and Lucifer caught the flicker of vulnerability there, the unspoken fear that nestled in his husband’s eyes. The usually composed Adam looked almost… fragile.

His voice quivered, softer now, as he asked, “You’re still happy, aren’t you, Luci? About the baby?”

Adam’s hand drifted protectively to his stomach, his brow creased with worry. “You… you haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

Lucifer’s throat tightened. The question held weight—no, not weight. A gravity. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he could see how much it mattered to Adam. Whatever was going on, he would figure it out. Somehow. Later.

"Of course, I’m happy!" he said, his voice cracking slightly, and he winced at the sound of it. Still, he moved closer to Adam, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on his shoulder. He let his fingers slide to Adam’s stomach, his touch cautious, reverent. “I’m… I’m so very happy about… our baby.”

Adam released a slow breath, his tension ebbing away. He leaned into Lucifer, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, supporting him as though he were cradling the most delicate treasure. For a moment, Lucifer felt unsure, but Adam's warmth, his trust, softened something deep within him.

"I love you, Luci," Adam whispered, his voice thick with sleep and sweet with affection. His eyelids fluttered, and he yawned softly, pressing closer to Lucifer. "I’m so happy we… fell together.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. Fell together. The words struck him as if he were hearing them for the first time. He took in their room—a chamber he knew well, yet tonight it was somehow transformed, bathed in a serene, tender shade of blue. Every edge of the room softened, a haven unlike any place he'd ever known.

"Luci…" Adam murmured, tugging him down toward the bed. "I’m tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, lowering himself beside Adam. His gaze stayed glued to his face, mesmerized by the peaceful smile that lingered on Adam’s lips, the faint glow of pure contentment that radiated from him.

“I love you, Luci,” Adam whispered, eyes finally closing, his breathing slowing as he drifted into sleep.

Lucifer swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently stroked his hand along Adam's arm. "I… I love you too," he whispered, his voice fragile yet earnest.

Adam sighed softly in his sleep, and as Lucifer held him close, he felt something blossom inside him—something ancient, eternal, but also achingly new. An inexplicable longing settled over him, as if he were relearning the meaning of love in the warmth of Adam’s steady breaths, the rise and fall of his chest.

ucifer lay still beside Adam, watching his husband slumber, mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of his chest, the faint smile lingering on his lips even in sleep. Lucifer didn’t know how long he lay there, simply unable to look away. He couldn't. Not when, in the life he remembered, he had just been kneeling by Adam's corpse, his face drenched in tears. What was going on? Adam had died… hadn’t he? Lucifer had buried him, laid him to rest in the heart of Eden, his most cherished garden, a place he had never allowed anyone else.

Carefully, Lucifer slipped from the bed, ensuring he didn’t disturb Adam. He swung his legs to the floor, glancing down and feeling the faintest flicker of surprise. He was shirtless, and instead of his usual dark pajamas, he wore an unexpected pair of bright, duck-themed boxers. They were… adorable? He squinted, not recognizing them at all.

He padded softly across the room, his hooves sinking into the plush carpet that covered the floor. This, too, was new—a rich, comforting shade that he’d never seen before in his chamber. His gaze drifted to the walls, noticing how they were no longer draped in the austere, heavy tapestries he remembered. Instead, they were painted in soothing colors, warm and soft, lending the room a sense of calm he hadn’t known he craved. Lucifer frowned, his chest tightening, feeling both out of place and strangely at home.

His eyes caught on a golden-framed portrait on the wall. He knew this painting well—or at least he thought he did. The original painting had been a bittersweet reminder of his life with Lilith and their young daughter, Charlie, back when she was just a toddler. A painful relic. But as he approached, he realized this was… different.

Adam stood beside him in the painting, taking Lilith’s place. His face radiated joy, his arm around their daughter. And Charlie—her hair wasn’t the familiar gold from his memories but a soft hazel, like Adam’s. Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his chest as he stared at this family that, impossibly, seemed his own.

He tore his gaze away and slipped out of the chamber, the quiet of the corridor wrapping around him like a gentle mist. As he wandered through the halls, he noticed more and more differences. The cold, intimidating decor Lilith had favored was gone, replaced by something warmer, softer, and infinitely more welcoming. The walls, once adorned with shadowy tapestries and harsh colors, now bore gentle hues, punctuated by warm lights that cast a peaceful glow along the polished floors. Lucifer felt his chest tighten, an ache he couldn’t quite name blooming within him. The more he saw, the more he found himself… liking it. It was a home, not just a fortress.

Eventually, Lucifer found himself at the door of his office—the room where he’d spent countless hours handling his duties as King of Hell. He reached out, grasping the door handle, and pushed it open. The moment he stepped inside, he froze. His office, once chaotic and piled high with endless, neglected paperwork, was now spotless. Everything was in perfect order, from the neatly stacked files to the immaculate desk. His neglected paperwork—months, no, years of backlogged duties he’d ignored in his grief—was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes drifted to a shelf by the window. A collection of small, duck figurines, each carefully placed inside a glass box, caught his eye. They looked rare and almost precious, and as Lucifer studied them, he felt an unfamiliar sense of warmth, almost amusement, stirring within him. There was something endearing, something so distinctly Adam about their presence here.

Slowly, Lucifer moved to his desk, trailing his clawed fingers along its smooth surface before picking up a small picture frame. He lowered himself into his plush chair, his eyes fixed on the photo. In the picture, he was cuddling up to Adam, who was visibly pregnant, his belly round and full. Adam looked radiant, though there was a hint of tiredness, even fragility, in his face. But they both looked… happy. So happy it made Lucifer’s chest ache.

He set the frame down carefully, his gaze flicking around the office once more. Books he recognized lined the shelves, yet they seemed to have been meticulously organized and, shockingly, read. The daunting pile of work he had once allowed to fester was not only done but years ahead. How… had that happened? He swallowed, feeling an odd mixture of awe and unease.

Standing up, he left the office and drifted back into the corridor. His eyes caught on more paintings adorning the walls—scenes of a life he had never lived, and yet somehow they felt achingly familiar. One painting showed him standing beside Adam, each with an arm around Charlie, who was beaming with happiness, her red and yellow eyes bright with love. Another showed them all on a picnic under a willow tree, Charlie tugging at Lucifer’s hand as she laughed. There was one where a teenage Charlie, looking every bit like her mother, was rolling her eyes at Lucifer, though her mouth held a small, affectionate smile.

Lucifer’s steps slowed as he studied each painting, heart thudding as he took in the thousands of moments they depicted. They painted a life he had never dared to dream—a life where he had fallen not with Lilith, but with Adam, a life where they had been damned together and yet had somehow found a way to build a family, a future, a love that shone even here, in Hell. In this life, he had watched Charlie grow, had raised her with Adam by his side, had been part of her life even in her teenage years, when she’d likely rebelled against them both. And she looked so… happy. Every image radiated the joy she’d shared with them, a warmth that lingered in her gaze, a trust and love she had for her parents.

In his own life, there had been no paintings of those years. No laughter, no memories captured of a teenage Charlie by his side. He had lost her trust, had watched her pull away, leaving him with only the shadow of what might have been.

But here… here she was, smiling. Bright-eyed. Free.

Lucifer's breath hitched, a wave of raw emotion rising within him, fierce and unfamiliar. He reached out, fingers grazing the frame of a painting where they all stood together, a family complete, unbroken by the pain that had shadowed his own life.

How was any of this possible? Had he been given another chance, a glimpse into what he could have had? Or was this some cruel illusion, designed to haunt him? As he stood in the corridor, surrounded by memories of a love and a family he had never truly known, he realized that he didn’t care whether this was real or not. This life, these moments—it was a world he wanted to live in. A world where he was loved and had chosen love in return.

He inhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on one last painting—one where he and Adam were dancing, eyes locked, laughter spilling from their lips. In that moment, Lucifer vowed that, however this had happened, he would not let this world slip away. Not again.

Lucifer returned to his chamber, standing outside the heavy doors as he drew a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly at the thought of what awaited him within. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly, and pushed the door open, slipping quietly inside. His hooves felt strangely unsteady, and his fingers twitched at his sides as he approached the enormous, inviting bed.

There, nestled in the tangle of blankets and quilts, was Adam, still fast asleep. The sight made Lucifer pause. Adam looked so peaceful, his expression soft and untroubled as he burrowed further into the cozy warmth of the bed. It was endearing, seeing him like this, utterly relaxed. Lucifer felt a pang of something sweet and gentle, something he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Adam looked… perfect, like he belonged here, like he had always belonged in Lucifer’s bed, in his life.

Swallowing the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Lucifer reached down, gently pinching the corner of the blankets, lifting them, and sliding himself under. He moved slowly, carefully, until he was right beside Adam. Close enough to feel his warmth, to catch the faint scent of him. And then, with a trembling hand, he reached out, brushing his fingers against Adam’s cheek. The skin was soft, warm, alive.

He’s really here.

He could feel the gentle heat radiating from Adam, the slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath a quiet reminder that Adam was, impossibly, still with him. And as he lay there, watching, he heard something else—a soft, sleepy hum, an occasional quiet laugh, as though Adam were lost in a pleasant dream.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered, a warmth spreading through him. He realized he was smiling, his own breath catching in his chest as he whispered, “I want to see more.”

He inched closer, and as he did, Adam shifted, instinctively snuggling into him, pressing against him with the innocent trust of someone who felt safe, completely at ease. Lucifer’s heart swelled, and he couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle into Adam’s hair, letting its softness tickle his face, breathing in his scent.

“I want to see more, Addie,” he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. “I want to see more, Addie. I want to see what else is different.”

He let his fingers trail gently through Adam's hair, the silky strands slipping through his claws as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of him. It was an intimacy he’d never quite allowed himself before, a closeness he hadn’t known he craved until now. He nuzzled his face into Adam's hair, letting the warmth settle into his bones as he wrapped his arms around Adam, holding him like a lifeline.

“I want to see how our lives have changed… together,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the words felt monumental, a promise spoken into the quiet stillness of the room.

As he lay there, breathing in sync with Adam, Lucifer felt the exhaustion of countless lifetimes begin to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket. A life like this… it was something he’d never allowed himself to even imagine, but now, in this quiet moment, it felt possible. Real. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing slowed, matching Adam’s as he drifted closer to sleep, nestled against the man who had always been his tether.

Just before sleep took him, a thought drifted through his mind—a wish, a quiet yearning, Please… let this be real.

And as he surrendered to slumber, Lucifer felt the unfamiliar but deeply welcome sensation of feeling safe, cocooned in a warmth that he wanted to last forever.

When Lucifer awoke, his whole body felt uncommonly… good. There was no lingering ache, no dull exhaustion pressing on his bones, and the familiar cold pang that usually twisted in his chest was… gone. He shifted within the warm embrace of the blankets, savoring the comfort of the bed. A soft, contented yawn escaped him as he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, taking in the hazy morning light filtering into the room. He blinked a few times, rubbing his face with one hand, feeling well-rested in a way he hadn’t known in what felt like ages.

But then he noticed something amiss—his side felt unusually cold, the spot beside him vacant. Lucifer frowned and rolled onto his side, sliding his hand across the sheets in search of the warmth he expected to find there. Only emptiness met his touch.

His heart leapt into his throat, panic flaring in his chest as he scrambled upright. The sheets tangled around his legs, and before he could steady himself, he stumbled, crashing to the floor in a tangle of quilts and limbs. He winced as his chin hit the ground, but the urgency pulsing within him was far too strong to let that stop him. Ignoring the faint ache, he quickly scrambled to his hooves, his gaze darting around the chamber, anxiety tightening in his chest.

The room was just as it had been last night—spotlessly tidy, softly inviting, as if crafted to hold a sense of peace he’d longed for but never believed he could have. Yet something was wrong.

Where was Adam?

Just as he was about to rush out the door in a desperate search, it swung open, and there stood Adam, looking somewhat startled as he took in the sight of Lucifer, wide-eyed and slightly dishevelled, in the middle of the room. Adam’s golden eyes flickered over the mess Lucifer had made in his hurried rise from bed. He blinked, then met Lucifer's gaze with a concerned, puzzled expression.

“Um… a-are you okay?” Adam asked softly, his brow furrowing as he took in the room and then settled his eyes back on Lucifer.

Without hesitation, Lucifer crossed the room, grasping Adam’s hands as if afraid he might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with relief yet tinged with the lingering panic that had clawed at him moments before.

A sheepish smile curled across Adam’s lips. “I had to… you know, pee.”

He gestured toward his round belly, and the explanation clicked into place in Lucifer’s mind. Oh. Of course. That made perfect sense. Lucifer’s face flushed, and he released a small, embarrassed whine, his head dipping as he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softened with self-consciousness. “I woke up, and you were gone, and I just… I thought…”

Adam reached up, his hand gentle as he cupped Lucifer’s chin and tilted his face up to meet his gaze. The warmth in Adam’s golden eyes melted away any lingering fear, the softness of his expression like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He smiled, a soft, loving curve of his lips that made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m fine,” Adam reassured him, his voice gentle and soothing. “I’m not sick or anything. You’ve got to stop worrying so much.”

Lucifer trembled under that affectionate gaze, his own heart beating so fiercely he was sure Adam could feel it through his hands. Then, without warning, Adam leaned in, his lips brushing over Lucifer’s in a brief, feather-light kiss that sent shockwaves through Lucifer’s entire being. Adam’s lips were warm, softer than he’d imagined, and the brief press of them against his left him frozen, every thought scattering like dust on the wind.

When Adam pulled away, Lucifer’s face burned crimson, his mind still reeling. He’d just had his first kiss with Adam—a kiss he had never dared dream would happen. It was perfect, in every way he’d never imagined it could be.

“I love you,” Adam murmured, his hands giving Lucifer’s a gentle squeeze. “But remember, I’m not made of china. I’m just… pregnant.”

He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes, as if inviting Lucifer to relax, to let go of his worries.

Lucifer nodded slowly, his face still a bright, unmistakable red as he absorbed the warmth of those words. Adam had kissed him. He had actually kissed him. And, more importantly, he’d said… I love you.

Lucifer could barely breathe, the words echoing in his mind, wrapping around his heart and lighting something within him that he’d thought long dead.

Before he could respond, Adam chuckled softly, stepping back and giving Lucifer a teasing smile. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam, his voice still laced with wonder. This felt like a dream, a vivid and impossibly sweet vision he feared would dissolve if he blinked too hard.

Adam laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed his belly. “Well, this ghost is starving. Come on, Luci—let’s go see if there’s anything good in the kitchen.”

He started to shuffle toward the door, glancing back with a playful smile, and Lucifer, still reeling, followed.

As they walked through the halls, Lucifer's gaze lingered on Adam, unable to look away from the quiet beauty of this life. He was here, in a world that felt too beautiful to be real, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed himself to believe it was possible.

Lucifer followed Adam down the hallway, lingering a step behind, still grappling with the strangeness and sweetness of this new reality. As they entered the kitchen, Lucifer paused, taking in the space with a faint frown. The room was cozy, modestly sized, a far cry from the grandiose kitchen in his dominion. Here, everything seemed designed for warmth rather than grandeur—cabinets of warm wood, a sturdy stove, countertops speckled with flour dust and softened by the morning light filtering in through the window.

He barely had time to absorb it all before Adam made a beeline for the cupboards, his movements full of purpose and energy. Lucifer watched, feeling a strange fondness wash over him as he saw Adam pull out ingredients with practiced ease, his hands working with a confidence that seemed almost ritualistic.

“Adam, you’re pregnant,” Lucifer began, stepping forward and watching Adam stack flour, eggs, and milk on the counter. “You should be resting.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder, an easy laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

“You know I don’t like to rest, Luci. I need to be doing something—always,” he said, his golden eyes dancing with amusement.

Lucifer’s chest tightened. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know this about Adam. The realization settled over him, heavy and unsettling. There were layers, entire dimensions of this man, that Lucifer hadn’t known in his former life. His voice softened as he reached forward, taking Adam’s hand in his own.

“We could just… call for a servant to do it. You don’t need to strain yourself.”

Adam’s brows arched. “Servant? What servants?”

Lucifer blinked, caught off guard. “I… well, I mean, I assumed…”

He trailed off, searching for an explanation. “I could conjure whatever you want to eat. It’d be nothing.”

But instead of agreeing, Adam laughed again, a sound so pure and sweet it made Lucifer’s heart clench. Adam reached up, gently patting Lucifer’s cheek. “Oh, Luci, you always know how to make me laugh. But you know I don’t like it when you use your magic for things I can do myself.”

Lucifer’s gaze held a flicker of confusion. He wasn’t joking, yet somehow, without even intending it, he’d managed to make Adam laugh.

“But, I just… I really want you to rest,” he muttered, shifting his weight, his hooves shuffling on the floor. “You’re six months pregnant, Adam. You should be taking it easy.”

Adam’s gaze softened; his expression so tender that Lucifer felt his resolve begin to melt away.

“Luci, we’ve talked about this,” Adam murmured, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. The warmth of Adam’s hand in his own was grounding, an anchor in this unfamiliar world.

“Cooking… it makes me happy,” Adam continued, his voice filled with gentle reassurance. “It’s how I show my love. And I know you get worried, but you don’t have to. I’m alright. I’m stronger this time.”

Lucifer swallowed, his gaze lingering on their intertwined hands. The love and confidence in Adam’s tone soothed something restless within him. This Adam was gentle but unwavering, full of strength yet tender—a warmth Lucifer hadn’t dared let himself imagine before. Lucifer took a shaky breath, squeezing Adam’s hand, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I… I guess I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for you,” he whispered, his voice raw with an honesty he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. “This… everything about this—about you—means more to me than I can even say.”

Adam’s smile widened, and he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair back from Lucifer’s face. “I know, Luci. And that’s exactly why it already is perfect.”

Lucifer’s face flushed, his heart racing as he let Adam’s hand slip from his, watching as he returned to the counter with that gentle, devoted smile. Standing there, seeing Adam pour love and care into every movement, Lucifer felt a new determination settle in his chest.

He would protect this, Lucifer vowed silently to himself, this world, this life, this love.

He would do whatever it took to keep it safe, and perhaps, just maybe, let himself believe he truly deserved it.

Lucifer slipped around Adam with practiced finesse, his fingers closing around the bowl before Adam could react.

"How about I make breakfast for a change?" he suggested, his voice smooth and enticing as he flashed Adam a charming, radiant grin—the kind that could melt anyone’s heart.

Adam raised a sceptical eyebrow, not in the least bit swayed. He snorted, reaching to reclaim the bowl. "Oh, really? And what exactly would you make, hm?"

With a playful wink, Lucifer twirled out of Adam’s reach, holding the bowl just out of reach.

"Only my specialty... pancakes!" he announced with an exaggerated flourish.

Adam’s laugh was pure and warm, bubbling up despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “Pancakes, you say? But Luci, you can’t cook."

Lucifer's face morphed into a mock expression of scandalized surprise. "What? Of course I can! I'm an amazing cook!"

Adam laughed harder, clutching his side as if to contain the joyful sound.

“Oh, Luci…” he managed between giggles. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried? Whatever that was supposed to be, it ended up… well, let’s just say it was a bit of a disaster. Black as a hockey puck."

Lucifer pouted, folding his arms in playful indignation. Then, as he caught sight of Adam’s still-giggling face, he let his pout melt into an amused, toothy grin. Ah, so it seems his other self couldn’t cook to save his life. How fascinating.

His eyes glinting with devilish excitement. “But, trust me, I’ve been practicing.”

Adam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he tried to look stern, though his smile betrayed him. "Alright, alright. I suppose I’ll give my lovable husband a chance."

Lucifer practically skipped with joy. "Wonderful! Now, go sit down, put those feet up, and let me take care of everything!"

He leaned in and pecked Adam on the cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin linger against his lips. "Trust me, Addie—you’re going to love this."

Adam let out a resigned sigh, but his eyes were filled with affection as he settled himself at the small kitchen table, resting his hands on his belly. His sceptical smile followed Lucifer as he moved back to the counter, fully claiming the kitchen as his temporary domain. As he glanced back, Lucifer’s heart skipped—a sight that, for all his centuries, felt thrilling and entirely new.

Determined to impress, Lucifer turned to the stove, summoning a light flicker of flames with a single snap of his fingers. He poured flour and cracked eggs with careful focus, hoping his newly claimed cooking confidence wasn’t just bluster. As he whisked the batter, he stole a glance over his shoulder to see Adam watching him with quiet amusement.

There was a softness in Adam’s gaze as he observed Lucifer’s every move, as though watching someone he loved and trusted implicitly. And for the first time, the weight of that trust hit Lucifer with stunning clarity. Here was a man who knew his every flaw and, despite everything, still loved him fully, without hesitation.

After a few moments, Lucifer poured the batter onto the sizzling pan, smiling as the pancakes began to rise and golden, filling the kitchen with the faint, sweet scent of vanilla. He added a bit of flair, flipping each pancake high into the air, turning just enough to catch Adam’s eye. Adam’s chuckle was immediate, and the warmth it sparked in Lucifer’s chest was indescribable.

When the pancakes were finally done, Lucifer arranged them on a plate, meticulously layering them with a pat of butter and a drizzle of syrup, along with a handful of fresh berries he found tucked away in the fridge. He set the plate down before Adam, who looked at him with eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement.

“There you go, Addie,” Lucifer said, sliding into the seat across from him and looking at him expectantly. “The finest pancakes in all of Hell, made by yours truly.”

Adam lifted a fork, spearing a bite of pancake with a hum of approval as he took his first taste. A look of surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by delight. "Oh, Luci… these are actually good!"

Lucifer preened under the compliment, his grin widening. “See? What did I tell you? Only the best for my beautiful Queen~”

Adam leaned forward, reaching across the table to brush his hand over Lucifer’s. "Thank you, Luci. It’s perfect."

Lucifer’s heart skipped again, his pulse thrumming in a way it hadn’t in centuries. He squeezed Adam’s hand, the realization dawning on him all over again: he was living in a world he never knew he wanted, with a love he’d never dared believe he deserved.

In this life, every moment was something precious, and he vowed then and there to cherish every single one.

As Lucifer watched Adam from across the table, every glance, every subtle movement of his was a treasure. He leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand, careful not to let his curiosity spill over into suspicion. He wanted to drink in this new life, to savour the unfamiliar tenderness between him and Adam, and he was desperate for more details.

"So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Adam’s face lit up immediately.

“Charlie invited me to her hotel!” He beamed; eyes sparkling. “I’m really excited to go!”

The mention of Charlie sent a thrill through Lucifer. His grin spread wide, his mind spinning with questions. Charlie had opened her hotel here too—had it succeeded? What was it like in this world? Was her vision the same as in his own? His heart pounded with anticipation.

"That's wonderful, Addie," he said warmly, eager to learn more but reining himself in. "You know, I’d love to see Charlie too. It’s been… too long."

Adam tilted his head, a bit of confusion creasing his brow.

“You’re… okay with me going, right?” he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Lucifer chuckled, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s our baby girl, after all. I’d never stop you from seeing her.”

Relief washed over Adam’s face, and he released a soft laugh. “Oh, that’s good! I was worried you’d get mad…”

Lucifer’s smile slipped ever so slightly, something prickling at the back of his mind. “W-why would I be mad?”

Adam’s gaze dropped to his lap, his expression clouding over.

“It’s just… after the last time I left the mansion…” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

A pang of protectiveness surged in Lucifer, but he held himself back, sensing it was a sensitive subject for Adam. He offered a gentle smile instead, brushing his fingers over Adam’s hand.

“Well,” he said softly, “You’ll be with Charlie. I’m sure she’ll keep an eye on you.”

Adam’s face brightened at that, a grin breaking through the worry. “That’s true! Charlie’s got a good head on her shoulders. Besides, I miss her so much. She’s been so busy with… with the redeemed souls.”

Lucifer’s breath caught. Redeemed souls?

His eyes widened just slightly, the implications overwhelming. Had Charlie actually managed to redeem souls in this world? How had Hell—how had Heaven—reacted? His mind buzzed with a thousand questions, each one more urgent than the last. But he kept his expression calm, pretending as if this was all perfectly normal.

“I really wish you could come too…” Adam’s voice pulled him from his racing thoughts, his words laced with a faint sadness.

Lucifer felt his chest ache, wanting to join him, to witness this new version of Hell alongside his family.

“Why can’t I?” he asked, his tone almost teasing.

Adam arched a brow, giving him a knowing smile. “Luci, you know you can’t just cancel another meeting. I know how you feel about running Hell, but with all the changes going on, it’s… important, right?”

Lucifer quickly nodded, mimicking the confidence he assumed his counterpart would’ve had.

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady. “I can’t neglect my duties.”

Adam let out a quiet sigh, his eyes dropping to the plate of half-eaten pancakes. “Just… don’t work yourself too hard, alright? We hardly have time together as it is, and… I miss you.”

There was a vulnerability in Adam’s tone that struck something deep within Lucifer, a quiet ache that told of lonely nights and missed moments.

He reached across the table, letting his hand rest over Adam’s. “I promise, Addie. I’ll make time. For us.”

Adam’s eyes softened as he squeezed Lucifer’s hand.

“You better,” he teased gently. “Because once this little one’s here, they’re going to want a lot of time with their father.”

Lucifer's heart clenched at the mention of the child—their child. A sudden wave of protectiveness and tenderness washed over him, and he fought to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Adam's smile returned, warmer and brighter. "Good. You’d better keep that promise, Luci.”

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. As Adam cleared the plates, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal another glance, his mind awash with the marvels of this new life. This world was everything he hadn’t known he wanted, a world where love and redemption were not merely ideas, but truths shaping their lives.

He’d do anything to stay here, to see what other beautiful moments were yet to unfold.

...there was only one problem.

What has happened to the other Lucifer?

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #fanficiton #adamsapple harvest #for adamsapple fans #adamsapple devil's night #mpreg

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just-some-guy-joust · 7 months ago

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Just Some Guy Joust - Contestants List

Note: This is NOT the order of the brackets. Like with the last tournament, the order of the brackets will be a surprise. This list was randomized from the brackets I set up and does not represent who each character will be up against. The only thing you know for sure which side of the bracket they're on. When the polls go up, they'll be posted in order based on the list here, NOT based on where their brackets actually are!

Round 1 of Side A is over! Round 1 of Side B is CURRENTLY UP!

(Full list of characters in text format is under the cut)

Side A

Sasha James (The Magnus Archives)

Reigen Arataka (Mob Psycho 100) - died round 1

Joy (Underworld Office/Charlie in Underworld) - died round 1

Junpei (Zero Escape)

Horse (Centaurworld)

Phone Guy (FNAF) - died round 1

Gordon Freeman (HLVRAI)

Joshua Gillespie (The Magnus Archives) - died round 1

Namari (Dungeon Meshi)

Shez (Fire Emblem: Three Hopes) - died round 1

Henry Stickmin (Henry Stickmin)

Stanley (The Stanley Parable)

Whole (Chonny Jash's Charming Chaos Compendium) - died round 1

Larry (Pokemon)

Luke Carder (Inscryption) - died round 1

Leorio Paladiknight (Hunter x Hunter) - died round 1

Barry the Quokka (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog)

Tommy (HLVRAI) - died round 1

Ulala Serizawa (Persona 2: Eternal Punishment) - died round 1

April O'Neil (TMNT - All versions)

Tsuzuru Minagi (Act! Addict! Actors!) - died round 1

Matt (Woe.Begone)

Gilear Faeth (Fantasy High - Dimension 20)

Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney)

Emmet Brickowski (The LEGO Movie) - died round 1

Stahl (Fire Emblem: Awakening)

Doug Eiffel (Wolf 359) - died round 1

Jack Townsend (Tales from the Gas Station) - died round 1

Frisk (Undertale) - died round 1

Brian Pasternack (Yuppie Psycho)

Trevor Hills (American Arcadia)

Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone: Balance) - died round 1

Side B

Carol Kohl (Carol and The End of The World)

Jaehee Kang (Mystic Messenger) - died round 1

Paul Matthews (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals)

Emma Perkins (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals) - died round 1

Su Moting (God Troubles Me) - died round 1

Satou Hiroshi (Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Chilchuck Tims (Dungeon Meshi) - died round 1

Michelle Nguyen (Welcome to Night Vale)

Tad Strange (Gravity Falls)

Colin Robinson (What We Do in the Shadows) - died round 1

The Bard (Wandersong)

Usopp (One Piece) - died round 1

Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby)

Link (Ocarina of Time) - died round 1

Kazooie (In a Manor of Speaking) - died round 1

Connecticut Clark (FlorkofCows)

Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Hitomi Shizuki (Madoka Magica)

Junpei Iori (Persona 3)

Han Solo (Star Wars) - died round 1

Tomoya Mashiro (Ensemble Stars!) - died round 1

Peter Sqloint (Just Roll With It: Apotheosis)

Cabbage Merchant (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Marta Cabrera (Knives Out) - died round 1

Greg Universe (Steven Universe)

Yuuki Mishima (Persona 5) - died round 1

Gingerbrave (Cookie Run) - died round 1

Arthur Dent (Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy) - died round 1

Elsen (OFF)

Mob (Mob Psycho 100)

Tadano Hitohito (Komi Can't Communicate) - died round 1

Rung (Transformers - IDW Continuity) - died round 1

#tumblr showdown #tumblr tournament #brackets #just some guy #some guy joust #when polls post you'll be able to find them easily using the next tag ->#tournament poll

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piece-of-hweat · 1 year ago

Text

So. About Danny Phantom and Underworld Office...

Quick break from my Little Nightmares brain for a sec, I wanna talk about stupid ghost creatures.

Recently, I rediscovered a whole ass discord thread I made a year ago, which was literally filled with Charlie in Underworld/Underworld Office stuff. What is Charlie in Underworld and Underworld Office? Well, the first novel (Underworld Office) is a visual/digital novel about a kid named Eugene who stumbles upon the ghost realm. They are also adopted into a found-ghost-office-family. Important note: Eugene's soul can exit their body while they rest. So basically, going ghost, but not really. (the second thing/sequel just follows the redemption arc of an antagonist, Charlie, from the first game)

Now. Danny Phantom. A couple of months ago, my friend introduced me to the show as well as the Phandom, and gotta say. It's pretty cool. Danny Phantom is a cartoon series about a lil silly dude named Danny Fenton. He is half ghost. Because of his half-ghost-ness, he can "go ghost". This is where he turns into a ghost and kicks ghost-ass.

Alright, let's regroup. Now that you know a bit about both fandoms, remember that note from earlier saying that Eugene can "go ghost"? Yea. See where I'm going with this?

My proposal, fellow DP and/or CIU/UWO fans, is to make a crossover AU. Why? Because I need it. I need these two idiots to bond over the fact that they both have connections to ghosts and how, in a way, they're both half-ghosts.

What is the plot/storyline? No fuckin clue All I have is:

Danny's been Danny Phantom for a while now

Eugene moves into Amity Park. Danny, honestly, can't really give two shits about that.

One day, Eugene and Danny meet, they become friends and bond over the fact that they're both dead and alive.

Danny meets the Office Ghosts and they both become allies or smth (tbf, they both fight monsters/bad ghosts)

Both Danny and the Office have a common goal (perhaps a conflict they both want to solve? Maybe)

Now, as for lil stupid notes:

Danny is creeped out by Boss and River. (Boss is cold and Danny feels like Boss would just casually murder him if he looked away for 0.001 seconds. River is just chaotic in a "high-aunt" way. The shit she does probably scares Danny in a "BRO WTF" way)

Eugene and Danny, unlike the other ghosts, are more warmer-coloured and less monotone.

Charlie will spit on Danny's grave and Danny would do the same. They'd probably hate each other's guts in a sibling way.

Luke, Oliver and Joy would probably meet Sam and Tucker. (Tucker and Oliver would honestly be besties ngl. Joy and Sam can both judge each other silently over a cup of coffee)

Alright, that's all I have to offer. Hope you'll uh, consider this possible AU. Um. Have a nice day or night. Don't turn into a half ghost. Or do, I don't know man--

#danny phantom crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #charlie in underworld #underworld office #crossover au idea #eugene uwo #*simply explodes*#I am also really mentally stable if you couldn't tell from my endless amounts of AU ideas #hweat rambles

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dragonsdomain · 4 months ago

Text

Out of Office, chapter 7

AO3

Chapter 6

"Who's gonna be the one to explain to Linda why all three of her guests are now senseless on the couch?" Oliver asked.

He and Joy were now standing as spirits several feet from each of their bodies. While Oliver was glad to see that Luke was okay(ish), and the colors were fun (Joy was a pretty shade of blue, and Oliver was green), things were happening fast, and there were a lot of parts of the situation that still needed to be worried about.

"Please don't tell her the truth about it all," Sean asked, blowing on his fingers after making two extra guardian flowers in a row. "It was hard for her to find closure after I died, and I don't want her having to worry about me still being around."

Joy raised an eyebrow. "No wonder you and Eugene are friends... uh, fine. Okay. We'll come up with a lie of some kind. Eugene might have to be the one to tell her though. Eugene? Do you think you could tell her we had a long day or something and were super tired?"

Eugene was curled up on the couch, half in his body. "Uhuh," he wheezed, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Oliver turned back to Luke. "Okay, so. Evil ghost monster kidnapped a ghost friend and now we have to go save her."

"Because if we don't, Eugene will try to, which in his current state would be really dumb and end badly," Joy added.

Eugene grumbled something from the couch.

"You can't just go after that thing unarmed," Sean said nervously. "Eugene, did you happen to bring any of the Office's ghost artifacts?"

Eugene wordlessly dug in his pockets and pulled out a black fan, a lock of dark hair looped in a knot, and a cloth hat of some kind.

Sean floated over and took them from him. "Thanks, Eugene. We'll be sure to keep them safe. You can sleep now, if you want."

Eugene glared and stubbornly kept sitting upright.

"What are those?" Luke asked, walking over.

"Some ghosts (usually strong ones) have items from their life that gain power after they die. They can do a number of things," Sean explained. "This fan can seal hostile ghosts in it and also be used as a weapon in a pinch. The hair can be used to trap and entangle ghosts, or fling them, if you want. This hat lets you talk to cats. Not sure how useful that'll be, but we have it."

Oliver blinked. "Wait... what about a crucifix? A crucifix with the power to ward ghosts?"

Sean tilted his head. "I mean, I guess that's an example of an artifact somebody could have."

Oliver put his hands out. "You guys. My grandmother's crucifix. She loved that thing. Luke got yeeted out of his body by my grandmother's magic ghost-warding crucifix."

"Oh yeah," Joy said, pressing her lips together. "That, or any number of the other anti-ghost things you brought."

"Oh, uh, oops." Oliver smiled apologetically at Luke.

Luke waved his comment off. "It's fine, you didn't know. Could that crucifix maybe be useful for fighting the monster, though?"

"Er, seems like it would be a problem that we can't get to it in ghost form," Oliver said. "And then in human form we wouldn't be able to see the monster."

"Good point," Joy said.

Luke took the fan. "So the plan is to seal the ghost in here at the end?"

Joy took the lock of hair. "But first we have to weaken it and make sure we get Charlie out of there safely."

Oliver took the hat. "...With cats?"

Sean shrugged. "I guess? Joan's gun probably would've been more useful." Oliver whispered ghost gun under his breath as Sean turned to Eugene and asked, "Eugene? You didn't happen to bring Joan's cane too, did you?"

Eugene blinked, looking barely awake. "Uh... no, it didn't feel right with her in it."

"Oh, okay," Sean said. Why is she in the ghost gun Oliver whispered under his breath, and no one deigned to answer.

The four of them started heading towards the staircase down to the front door. Eugene started to push himself up to follow them, but Sean gently pushed him back down.

The four of them walked to the front door, and Luke tentatively pushed it open. "Oh, huh. Somehow I thought the ghost we're chasing would be easy to see from here?"

"Drat. How are we supposed to find it now?" Joy grimaced.

Oliver grinned, pulling the hat onto his head. "Cats."

...

Charlie's house was old and creaky, full of dust, like no one had lived in it for a long time. Her father's ancestors had lived in this house for generations, and with each of them that died inside of it, more of the house died as well.

Quite a few pieces of Charlie had died here too. She remembered the day her father had torn up her first paper doll because he'd caught her playing with it instead of studying for a test. She remembered the day her cat had gone missing, and the day a week later when she'd found its body rotting in a shallow grave with a gunshot wound in its side. She didn't remember the first day she saw her father hitting her mother, but she remembered the first day he'd hit her.

She vaguely remembered a time when she'd been young and hopeful. When she had rose-tinted dreams for the future. When she'd been happy. But those parts of herself had died, and their unreachable memory haunted the manor along with all the other ghosts.

There were many rooms in the house, but the older Charlie got, the fewer of them she ever went in, until in her last year she only traveled through the few that lead in a direct path from her bedroom, to the kitchen, to the front door.

Now she was in her bedroom again, wondering why she'd killed her father.

She knew why, of course. She'd... resented him for a while. "Hated him", she would've said, but somehow that didn't quite fit, even though she felt like she ought to hate him, deserved to. If she truly hated him, Would she have felt so guilty for having killed him? But now she felt ashamed. Her hands were covered in blood; it wasn’t wet anymore, but she couldn’t wash it off. It would be with her forever.

However long her route through the house usually was, it was now very short. She was grounded, never to leave the house, never to leave her room.

She was so alone, but it was what she deserved.

“Charlie?” a voice called, and she flinched before realizing it wasn’t her father’s voice. Not her mother’s either.

Charlie looked up toward her bedroom window (no light came through it). Mike was there, peeking in at her. “Could you let me in?” he asked, tapping the glass.

Charlie hesitated, not wanting to involve him, but eventually decided to go ahead and listen to him for once. She stood from her bed, then reached up and unlatched the window.

Mike pushed it open and climbed inside the room with her. He grinned. “It’s really you! It’s great to see you again, finally.”

Charlie felt confused for a minute. Somehow she felt like they hadn’t seen each other for years, but he hadn’t aged. He looked exactly the same as when she’d last seen him. Except…

“What are you doing here?” Mike asked, walking around. “Is this your bedroom? From when we were kids?”

“I’m grounded,” Charlie said.

“I thought your dad was… um… not around anymore?”

“He came back to haunt me,” Charlie said blankly, dropping back down onto her bed. “To make me face what I did. To give me what I deserve.”

“What did you do?” Mike said, sitting down beside her.

Charlie’s head sunk. “You know what I did.”

“No, I don’t. Are you talking about this?”

Charlie looked up, and Mike was pointing at the scar over his eye.

She glared at him, tearing up. “Of course, I should’ve known. Are you here to haunt me too?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not. I’m not mad. Well, I might’ve been, a little, when it first happened. But it’s been years. I’ve moved on. You should too.”

Mike was older than Charlie was. He’d kept on growing while she stayed the same. He looked like he might be somewhere in his twenties now, and the gash over his eye was long-scarred over, fully healed. But she was still in her worst year of high school, wearing her rumpled uniform with dotted with unwashed blood.

Charlie let her head drop. “You’re an idiot. I can’t move on. I can’t forget it. I can’t ignore it. I can’t keep it secret. I tried to move on and be better, but I can’t stop messing up and hurting people. Eugene’s ghost friends are all gone ‘cause I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut, ‘cause I couldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. And my past has caught up to me too, ‘cause it knows I don’t deserve to have people around me who don’t know what I did.”

“Oh, come on.” Mike folded his arms. “If running away from it is such a bad idea, then say it out loud. What did you do?”

Charlie snapped at him. “I murdered my father!”

Mike flinched, but he didn’t look surprised. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Charlie sagged. “Why’d you make me say it?”

“Why’d you do it?” Mike countered.

Charlie glared at him, then looked back down. “I was angry. And… scared.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Okay. That checks out. So do you regret it?”

The room was silent for a minute. “I don’t know,” Charlie responded.

“I think you do,” Mike said, “if it’s been a decade, and you’re still beating yourself up over it.”

“So that’s it then,” Charlie said, resigned. “I deserve this. I am a monster.”

“Ugh, no you don’t. That’s not what I was saying.” He gave her shoulder a little shake. “Look up at me, Charlie-Charlie.”

She did.

“Yeah, he did a bad thing. A really bad thing. But you were, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Teens mess up sometimes. I sure know I did, though thankfully not so bad anyone’s dead about it. And also I know you were having a rough home life, and it was kind of obvious you had some mental health issues. Yeah, you messed up, but you wouldn’t do it again. I’ve moved on, your dad’s moved on, so should you.”

Charlie looked up at him incredulously. “My dad hasn’t moved on. Don’t you know where we are?”

“No? Oh wait.” Mike blinked as the gears turned in his head. “Oh, was that big lanky ghost thing your dad? I thought it was you, or, some manifestation of your self-hatred, I guess?” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m honestly a little confused. No one really explained to me what’s going on.”

Charlie stared at him. “Are you the real Mike?”

“Yeah…?”

Charlie dropped her head into her hands, muttering a muffled swear. “I can’t believe I said all that stuff to you. I thought I was just having a heart-to-heart with a dream Mike, from my subconscious or something.”

Mike cackled at her, and she wanted to punch him (affectionately). “That’s so dramatic!”

Charlie glared at him. “Well how did you get here?” she snapped, like she was accusing him of something.

“Well okay, so get this.” Mike splayed his hands out like he was ready to drop a bombshell piece of gossip. “Couple days ago I had this dream where a tall asian-looking dude told me to find ‘Eugene’ at Station 00 and he’d help me talk to you. And I thought, yo, that’s so specific, and I could remember it super clearly when I woke up. So I went and did it, ‘cause I thought it would be funny if something cool actually was there, and also it was a good excuse to go exploring. But there was a guy named Eugene there! Crazy!”

“Ah. Okay then.” Charlie didn’t know how to feel about Boss still messing around near them. Eugene might be happy to hear that? Or not?

“No there’s more. I had another dream today! I mean, it wasn’t really a dream ‘cause it kind of just happened while I was walking along, super weird, I kind of thought I was hallucinating. Maybe I was. I sure hope I’m not crazy. But anyway he told me to go over here, so I did.” Mike stared off into the distance for a second, like he was finally realizing how insane he sounded. “Please believe me.”

“Hey no, I believe you. I know the guy. Weirdo.”

“Okay. Cool.” Mike stood up. “So we’re in your dad’s ghost’s nightmare dimension or something? We should probably get out. Forget what I said about him moving on. Because I still think you should move on. And him too. Talk about holding a grudge. So! Let’s go.”

“I’m grounded,” Charlie said dismally.

“Oh, come on! Now you start listening to your dad?” Mike pumped a fist. “The only one grounding you is yourself!”

Mike grabbed Charlie’s arm and pulled her towards the door. “Come on!”

“Ack! My dad’ll catch us! Can't we just climb out the window?"

“The window actually doesn't lead outside, just to another room of the house, for some reason. We’ll be sneaky! We just need to get out of your house and we’re home free! Probably. I still don’t know how ghost things work.”

Charlie winced. "Okay. We'll try. But if he catches us, you run. I don't want to see you hurt."

...

When they found the ghost monster that'd made off with Charlie, it was hunched over against a wall, like it was meditating. Charlie was not in sight.

"It's sleeping?" Oliver asked. "Do we just suck it up into the fan now?"

Sean waved his hands anxiously. "Wait, no, I don't think that's a good idea. It ran off with Charlie, right? It might have her in its dream."

"Dream?" Luke asked.

"Yeah. Ghosts can go into people's dreams. Or memories. Either way, we can't contain that ghost until we've gotten Charlie safely out." Sean chuckled nervously. "Or, until you guys've gotten her out. I don't know how much help I'd be."

Joy cringed. "We really don't know what we're getting into, and I'm thinking we might need all the help we can get. Plus, the three of us don't know what we're doing. Come with us. Please?"

Sean sagged. "Okay, okay. I'll come."

...

Charlie and Mike rounded another corner, and Charlie felt a growing knot in her stomach tighten. "Something's wrong. I don't remember this many hallways existing before," she whispered.

"Oh, okay. Uhh, maybe we should just keep wandering, hope we find the way out?" Mike whispered back.

"I don't like this," Charlie said. "This is his dream. We'll probably take way longer to find an exit than he'll take to find us."

"Well, if he finds us we run." Mike shrugged. "Simple as that."

"And we'll split up," Charlie said, narrowing her eyes. "So he chases me, not you."

"Sure, sure. I'll run... somewhere. Whatever."

"Ugh, you." Charlie scoffed.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in the dining room. Despite it being next to the kitchen, Charlie hardly ever ate there. The paintings she vaguely remembered being hung on the walls were gone, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"I wonder if there's some kind of clue as to where we should go?" Mike muttered.

Charlie walked around the table, looking at the different doorways they could take. The kitchen she knew was not through any of them. She paused for a second to shake some kind of debris from the carpet off of her foot.

Wait.

Charlie looked down and saw that that debris... was paper. Shreds of colored paper, intricately patterned. She recognized them as being the remains of paper dolls, though couldn't identify which ones. She could see on each shred of paper the clean and deliberate edge where she cut with her scissors, as well as the ragged edges where the dolls were torn apart.

"Mike," she whispered. "Come over here."

Mike came over, and Charlie pointed out the paper. "It's a trail. It leads this way."

"Those remind me of the paper dolls I used to see you making in class. Is that a good sign? Should we follow it?"

Charlie frowned. "It might also be a trail of destruction left by my father's ghost."

"It's our only lead, but... what do you think?"

"I want to follow it," Charlie said with a conviction that surprised her. "Wherever it leads, I want to get there. I want to reach an end."

"Well! That was a really ominous way of saying that. But okay," Mike nodded. "Let's follow the trail."

The two of them headed off, following the trail of shredded paper. Charlie kept her gaze pointing down at the trail as they passed through halls that looked almost the same, rooms that each seemed like several rooms Charlie remembered, yet also neither and none, all missing paintings on the walls, or else housing empty frames, which were equally disconcerting. Charlie started to wonder if the trail had really started in the dining room, or if she'd missed something, and that maybe they were following the trail the wrong way.

The trail came to an end just before a door Charlie knew all too well. The only one besides her bedroom door which she and Mike had found closed. The door to her father's study.

"Why'd we stop?" Mike whispered.

Charlie's hand moved forward, driven by something akin to curiosity, to purpose, laced with dread. She gripped the handle and turned the door. It slowly swung open with a creak that grew louder as it opened wider, before the door finally dropped softly off of its hinges.

The body in the middle of the floor looked old, as did the rest of the room. It was nothing but a skeleton, all its flesh having worn off, with no memory of it but the strange stains weighing down the crusty clothes hanging over that figure. A large splotch of the rug below it was stained a dull brown.

"Charlie?" Mike asked. "What are you looking at?"

Charlie blinked, and the illusion was gone. She was still holding the door handle, unopened.

She let go of the handle and stepped back. "I can't do it."

"I'll get it," Mike said. He took the handle and pulled the door open.

The office was empty. And behind Charlie's father's imposing desk, letting in a stream of cold moonlight, was a large window.

"An escape!" Mike cried, rushing towards the window to undo the latch and pull it open. Cold air puffed into the room. "Charlie-Charlie, come on!"

"Coming, coming," she said, taking one last glance over her shoulder.

Then she froze.

The door had swung closed behind her, and on the back of it was hung a portrait of her father.

"Trying to run away again, Charlie?" the picture said.

Charlie whirled around and vaulted out the window, landing in a run through the snowy ground.

Mike broke into a run beside her. "What's wrong?"

"My father! He's there!"

She took a glance over her shoulder and saw him slowly walking towards her, but gaining on her as though she wasn't moving at all. He looked just as he had been when he was alive, yet as horrible as when he was dead.

Mike slid to a stop and started pitching snowballs at him. "Take that! Ha! Leave her alone!"

Charlie whirled around. "Mike, no!"

Charlie's father came up to Mike, and his hand snapped out, gripping Mike's neck. Mike scrabbled uselessly at the man's hand as he picked him up like he weighed nothing.

"Let him go!" Charlie screamed, swinging a punch at her father's face.

But her scissors were in her hand.

She froze in terror, blade held inches from her father's face, as images of what she'd done to Mike flashed through her head.

Her father chuckled, making no move to stop her. "So you still want to kill me, do you? Well I'll never be dead. I'll haunt you forever. You think you hate me? Imagine how much I hate you. You horrible girl, you ruined everything. Kill me again and see if it makes you feel better! You'll never be free."

Charlie let loose a rage-filled scream and brought her scissors stabbing down on the arm holding onto Mike's neck.

Charlie's father let out a surprised gasp, letting Mike drop to the ground. Mike tried to lunge toward Charlie's father, but Charlie grabbed him and shoved him away. "I told you to RUN!"

Charlie's father slammed into her from the side, shoving her to the ground. Her face was pushed against the snow, and she inhaled it when she tried to breathe and started coughing.

She struggled against her father, but it was like trying to wrestle the sand. She couldn't budge him. He shoved her face down into the snow again and she tried to stay calm and hold her breath. She heard Mike yell and try to shove her father off of her, but she heard him get thrown aside with a deep thud into the snow.

"Got you!" Someone yelled, and Charlie felt the weight on her lift, then be abruptly yanked off of her to the side.

She shoved up off of the ground and gulped in oxygen, then searched around for Mike. He was there, just a few feet away, also pushing up from the snow. He looked dazed, but unhurt.

Charlie looked back towards her saviors and saw Eugene's friends, along with Sean. Joy was roughly slamming Charlie's father up and down onto the snow by the ends of what looked like River's hair. After a minute he lay still on the ground, Luke pulled out Boss' fan, snapped it open, and Charlie's father was sucked in.

Charlie sagged, dropping to the snow in exhaustion, as the cold world faded around her to be replaced with real life. That was it. She was so tired...

...

It was a few days later, and Eugene and Luke, Joy, and Oliver were working together to sweep up broken glass from the office at Station 00. Eugene's station boss had called him out to help with it (Eugene was grateful for any number of work hours after sudden week of unpaid vacation), and his three friends had volunteered to come along and help, to make sure he didn't push himself too hard while still recovering from his ghostly injuries.

Luke picked up a large piece of glass and threw it into a bin. "Did Charlie tell you about how the ghost that kidnapped her was her father, who she'd killed as a teen?"

"Yeah," Eugene said. He was taking a breather at the moment, sitting on a beat-up chair. "Though I already knew beforehand."

"That's messed up," Oliver said, shaking his head as he swept.

"Yeah, it is," Eugene said, resting his chin on his knee. "I'm tired of trying to be hard on people for bad things they've done though. She regrets it, she's doing better. That's enough for me. Turns out a lot of people are less perfect than you'd hope they'd be."

Joy rested her chin on her broom to give Eugene a pointed look. "Does that include not being hard on yourself?"

Eugene sighed. "Yes, I'm sorry. I know I was stupid, I shouldn't have been trying to do everything on my own."

"We can help if you need us," Luke said. "We might not work at the station with you, but now that we're in on your secret, we can help out with ghost stuff."

Eugene frowned. "I'm still kind of peeved you guys went behind my back about that."

Joy put her hands up. "I get it! I'm sorry! I won't do it anymore, I've learned my lesson. Yes. It's my fault, that was invasive and not okay and we should've just talked to you." She rolled her eyes.

Eugene had the feeling she didn't completely regret it, but he was going to let it go. "I appreciate this."

"No problem," said Oliver. "I'm an expert at cleanup stuff."

"I mean..." Eugene looked down sheepishly. "Thanks for. Making sure I didn't get myself killed. For being my friends. And... sticking with me even if it's weird and I wasn't great at being open with you."

Luke walked over and threw a hand around Eugene's shoulders. "Dude, it's cool. Generally speaking, you have a right to your secrets, so long as they're not hurting you. But like you said, nobody's perfect. We still love you."

Eugene smiled, giving Luke a hug back. "Thanks."

...

Charlie stared at the headstone. Her full name was written out on it, her birth date, and the date of her death. A small note about her being a daughter and a friend.

She turned to look at Mike, who was hovering beside her in ghost form. "How did you know I didn't know where my gravestone was?"

Mike chuckled. "I didn't, not really. But I wanted to make sure you knew that you weren't forgotten. I visit it sometimes, like on your birthday. Your mom does too, by the way. She's still around, and she remembers you fondly."

"Wow," Charlie said disbelievingly. "Don't know how she manages that."

Mike punched her in the arm. "C'mon Charlie-Charlie, you gotta stop getting down on yourself."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Easier said than done." She knelt down beside the tombstone. "It's kind of plain... not sure what I really expected. I didn't think too much about what it might be like. I think I kind of assumed there just wasn't one."

"It's been there this whole time," Mike said softly. "Well... at least you know about it now."

Charlie stood up again and looked at Mike. "Uh..." She rubbed her arm awkwardly. She wasn't sure how to end the interaction. "Thanks. I guess. This was cool of you. Sorry everybody was out of office and it was so hard for you to find me."

"It really wasn't that bad," Mike said. "I'm glad I was here to help when, uh... all that stuff went down."

Charlie slapped her forehead. "I'm so embarrassed."

Mike shrugged, looking amused. "Eh. We all have our cringe moments. You make fun of me for tripping on my shoelaces that one time, I can make fun of you for..." Charlie gave him a death glare, "...actually I'll probably just try not to bring this up."

Charlie looked away. "Well. Nice seeing you again. I guess this is goodbye."

"Well, I mean, it doesn't have to be. I only live like thirty minutes away," Mike said, thumb-pointing vaguely behind himself.

Charlie stared at him.

"What?" Mike asked. "You don't want to be friends with me anymore?"

"No! I mean, I do!" Charlie sighed. "I can't believe this is happening. Don't you want to move on from me? I'm dead."

"Er." Mike held up his hands helplessly. "I mean, from what I understand, you'll only be gone-gone for real once you get over all your angst and pass onto the next life, right? So we can totally still be friends until then."

Charlie looked him over. She still didn't completely believe he was real. The past had haunted her for so long, it seemed weird for something good to finally come out of it, for a friend to come back to her from the worst time of her life.

She spoke softly. "You're really not mad at me?"

"I'm really not."

Charlie relaxed. She smiled. Eugene wasn't mad at her after finding out the truth. Mike wasn't mad at her either. Maybe if they believed she could be better... she really could be. "Okay. Yeah." She looked back up at him. "I guess I'll see you around."

Mike grinned. "Count on it."

#that's the end! Thank you to everyone who read this story to its finish!#I appreciate all of you so much #Underworld Office #Charlie in Underworld #Out of Office #my fanfics #Charlie UWO #Eugene UWO #Luke UWO #Joy UWO #Oliver UWO #Sean UWO #Mike UWO #Charlie's father UWO #tw violence

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