#daisy complains about supernatural

[mxltifxnd0m]

im trying to get through the last couple episodes of season 10 and my god i literally stopped caring about the mark of cain like 12 episodes ago T_T

[mxltifxnd0m]

OMG YES WE LOVE SELF INDULGENT HEADCANONS 😩🙌🙌

now i kinda want to do them for sam and dean but with an asian s/o

(we were robbed of them being with POC love interests)

someday i'm gonna write bf! sam and dean hcs with a latine s/o because that's hot and i love self indulgent things fr

[minimag1c]

Day 6 of Radioapple trick or treat and my favorite so far!

The entity fell in love with a Twink!

Day 6 ----->ᵈᵉᵛⁱˡ ʷᵒʳˢʰⁱᵖ/ˢᵃᶜʳⁱᶠⁱᶜᵉ

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 ✏ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Here's my favorite prompt so far because I mixed it with Ouija board yipeeee!!

Anyway spiritual/mystic Alastor with Rosie and Mimzy trying to find out what kind of entity is haunting an abandoned underground factory that is somehow below the ground because I've watched a video about it and wanted to write something about it am I right

Also Vaggie tags along because she's so fucking underrated and I love her

Surprisingly there isn't really a tw or whatsoever just supernatural or horror stuff probably and that's it lol

Also

It's rushed

Oopsie daisy I suppose

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"So is it the place?" Vaggie asked, looking at her phone before looking forward, a flashlight in her other free hand while Rosie stood next to her, putting her hands on her hips while contemplating the view.

"Apparently? I was not even really sure myself but Carmilla was the one who told me that this area was where the townspeople had the most of manifestations and paranormals activities that occurred."

Someone next to Rosie hummed, a shorter and chubbier woman, who looked at the said place with disdain.

"It may be a spot where some shits happened but still, why did it has to be so goddamn ugly." Mimzy complained as Alastor butted in, a small faint smile on his face.

"Well. Those kind of places were never meant to be really pretty in the first place" he explained. Vaggie shrugged.

"Unless if it's some shitty fancy ass buildings like castles or manors."

"Even those are creeepy-" Rosie shuddered but then Alastor interjected

"Bleh! Who cares?? We were called here for a reason. Let's see what is it all about!" The only man of the group said as Rosie nodded thoughtfully, following her queer platonic lover's enthusiasm.

The four carefully slid and climbed down the muddy and slippery hill where the abandoned toy factory was. This place was pretty recent one if they have to be honest about their experience as paranormal investigators and mystics, only being active since the 19th century unlike the old medieval castle on the coast or the mysterious hut like house that was in the middle of the forest. Still, being recent didn't meant activities wouldn't be that much. In case, it was the opposite because it was freshly new thus more prominent energies.

And it was already the case when Alastor felt something brushing his right shoulder.

Instinctively, the man turned his head, not scared but more curious as Rosie immediately stopped her tracks and so did the two others.

Rosie was more concerned however.

"Are you okay Al?" She asked cautiously as Alastor shook his head slightly, blinking a few times before shrugging nonchalantly.

"It's fine. Just felt something going past me." He admitted. Mimzy couldn't help but groan out, complaining again.

"Great. We've barely entered in and we're already having weirdos pouncing around" she said as Vaggie rolled her eye although it was more of amusement.

"And we should probably keep our mouth shut if we don't want more unwanted manifestations." The brown haired woman responded as they dived deeper into the unknown.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

The whole place was actually a giant cave, with a few constructions made out of old iron using the walls as a support, mushrooms sprouting almost all around with mold. There were no source of lights or whatsoever except the faint white rays of each flashlights on. The smell was a weird mix of moss, humidity and runned up gasoline that instantly flared up in the nostrils.

"Well, without no doubt I can say that this place was completely abandoned." Rosie commented, making sure she wouldn't step on anything that was suspicious even if she wore combat boots.

"Do you feel anything Vaggie?" Alastor asked to the latina who thought for a fraction of second before shaking her head.

"Nothing. Neither something really that energy sucking or another presence aside from you three. Just... The void."

She then frowned slightly as Alastor was the only one who could notice it as she muttered something under her breath.

"A weird void though. As if there's something in this nothing. Weird."

The group continued their exploration, as Alastor couldn't help but cling furthermore on the ouija board in his side bag.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"Do you think they had any possession left here or not?" Mimzy asked, helping Rosie to go through a narrow entrance to a completely ruined shack or what seemed to be a garage judging from the destroyed cars and other engines that lingered like corpses on the ground and at the corners.

"I don't know. It's almost as if the whole place was ran over and they didn't had time to actually take everything they had." Vaggie suggested, feeling a bit weirded out by the fact that barely a few milliseconds ago, this room was okay ish.

But when the group actually arrived, something heavy was put on her before suddenly disappeared.

Rosie also seemed to notice this as a rare frown was visible on her face, looking around while dusting away the dirt on her clothes.

"There's something wrong with this room."

"Wrong like what dear?" Alastor piped in, going closer.

Despite being a mystic too, the man was lean about visions rather feeling energies which was complementary with Rosie who was more of an empathic and developed an hypersensitivity with what surrounded her. Vaggie was kin on the two sides and could communicate with spirits while Mimzy, despite her lack of skills in the spiritual field, was the down to Earth friends the trio needed as to not go entirely crazy.

The latina nodded at Rosie's statement.

"There's a weird energy going around here. I don't even know how to describe it. It's as if... It's apart from what really happened in this room." Vaggie tried to explain, even shivering slightly.

Alastor and Mimzy looked at each other, feeling concerned until the shorter woman shrugged.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Let's pull up the board at this rate, we didn't had that much activities until now."

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"Hello whoever owns or is in this place-" Vaggie started, crouching on the floor with Rosie and Alastor, hesitant before she continued, knowing there was no turning back as her tone was less scared however more apprehensive.

"-I will introduce myself to you either way. My name is Vaggie and these are my friends: we have Alastor, his queer platonic partner Rosie and Mimzy. Before we begin, I may want to add that we do not mean no harm nor cause disturbance. We just want to communicate with you and be able to reach you in anyway, if you want obviously but aside, if you want to talk with us you may not give us troubles nor hurt us and less forbid us to escape."

She stopped slightly on her explication, biting her lips in slight tense but Rosie nodded, smiling softly as to encourage the other woman to continue. After all small pause, Vaggie continued, her barely touching finger on the board shaking slightly.

"This ouija board is simple: there are letters, numbers alongside with a "yes" and a "no". Depending on our question, you may move the indicator here according to the answer you will communicate. Again, thank you for your patience and we will now ask a first question."

After a few seconds of silence, Alastor spoke up, his tone trying to be affirmative.

"First thing first: Are you with us right now?"

At first, there was nothing until, slowly and actually very slowly, the indicator started to move to the yes, even barely reaching it. The three made sure their fingers wouldn't touch the small instrument.

"Wait I have question for y'all." Mimzy suddenly hushered, probably as to not startle the entity, looking around in discomfort. "If the person- or whatever- actually says no, then isn't that just expose the fact that it's still there?"

"When it says no, it doesn't necessarily means it's an entity." Vaggie whispered back as Rosie continued, careful with her words.

"There are a lot of various energies going around especially in places like this. Other types then respond instead of the the one we actually want to find.

Mimzy just hummed, still sensing something fishy in the whole garage.

When she realized her friend didn't had anymore question, Rosie piped in, her tone gentle as possible.

"Thank you for response. Now, it may seems like a personal question, but what is your name mon cher?"

Again, a pause before the indicator slid shakily to the letter L.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, seeing that the small pod didn't seemed to move.

"L?"

"Maybe it doesn't really want to tell its name?" Mimzy asked, mirroring Alastor's confused expression.

Rosie was a bit disappointed however, before she could thank the shy entity again, it sudden slid fastly to another letter that even Vaggie was taken aback by the sudden determination.

U.

".. Lu?" She asked before the white indicator moved again, now its movements were more fluid as even Mimzy even found herself widening her eyes at the sudden shift.

C.

I.

L U C I.

Then it was calmer now... Except they heard a loud booming sound not from afar but actually outside of the underground garage. The four all turned their head at it before Mimzy suddenly froze, her face showing dread.

Alastor felt his heart suddenly beat rapidly, feeling something conflicting inside before the shorter woman breathed out in an almost exhaustion, her eyes blinking rapidly.

"Something was trying to touch me all around my body. It had an actual weight, not wind nor some other stuff like that." She said, putting her hand on her quickly beating heart.

Vaggie frowned at that before she sighed, looking at Alastor and Rosie before she nodded.

"Alright. Thank you so much for your answers Luci. I hope we didn't disturbed you that much and so we say you goodbye. Have a good rest." She said the last part awkwardly before feeling that the board was calmer again as she removed her hand from it.

Rosie and Alastor obviously did the same thing and, despite the familiar flash of wind who was now on his back and neck coming back, they had a singular thought. Not really that motivating but as investigators, it was a question of matters.

Time to see where this sound was.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"I think it was around here-?" Rosie suggested, looking up and down at the giant yet completely dark part of the cave, the rays of her flashlight not even being able to reach the top.

The rest of the small group followed her, making sure they wouldn't step on a rusty steel nor a destroyed piece of metal that was thrown out like scrap.

Alastor, specifically, was feeling unwell but not, fortunately, in a physical sense.

More like it was as if something was constantly trying to push his insides, pressing his organs with iron, with barely enough space to make him breathe or walk.

Mimzy, who walked next to him, couldn't help but notice her friend's sudden shift of behavior. He was way less energetic and more sluggish, keeping a pace that made the shorter woman judge it was the fastest he could go without fainting. Fuck, even his look seemed distant almost glazed as he blinked profusely.

"Alastor man, you good there?" Her voice rang out, an unusual worried tone in her words.

That seemed to alert both Rosie and Vaggie who stopped on their tracks. Now the three women looked at the man, Rosie being the one to speak up after a small moment, frowning deeper.

"Al, mon cher do you want a break? We can stop for a while if it's too much for you."

Said Alastor immediately snapped from his dizzy trance as he looked around, a drop of sweat running down his forehead before he slowly and shakily nodded his head.

"I-I think I'll sit down a bit."

Vaggie nodded, solemn before she helped Mimzy to make their tall friend lay a bit on what they judged the least infected rock by mushrooms, moss or mold. Alastor took a deep breath, Rosie kept trying to study around the zone, feeling even more frustrated.

"Clearly there's something wrong but I can't even put my finger on where-!" She whispered yelled, making sure to not make the cavern shake because of her voice.

"I feel something yet I can't put my finger where." Vaggie added, leading her ear for any signs or suspicious sounds.

"Don't want to bother the- whatever they are- the entity-?" Mimzy started before she continued, her tone more hushered and careful. "Luci. When they stopped talking with us, we had more manifestations-"

As the three women debated on a few theories or observations there and there, Alastor felt a bit better.

Still, the weightening was still persistent but it was a tad better than just a few minutes ago.

"-But there are chances that Luci is probably a trapped entity, meaning they can't go outside the gar-"

Vaggie didn't had time to finish what she was trying to say that a quite loud sound of water running down, just next to the gargantuan cavern.

The group froze in place, all wide eyes.

"... It can't be a coincidence that the water decided to act up when we mentioned their name." Rosie piped in, gripping her flashlight furthermore.

"What?" Mimzy inquired, titling her head as she raised an eyebrow. "Luci-?"

Another suspicious sound echoed, almost startling the latter as Vaggie shivered.

"Maybe Lu- they are not that restricted as we think"

"I can try and find them" Alastor suddenly spoke, Rosie widening her eyes at the suggestion before she got even more worried.

"Alastor, mon cher, don't tell me you're gonna-"

"-try and see or communicate with them."

Everyone went silent for a moment until Mimzy interjected, her tone unsure and wary, feeling tense for her friend.

"Alastor, you're still recovering and not able to really do severe efforts. Are you even sure you want to do that-?"

The concerned man took a small breath as to calm down the chaos that lingered on his energies before he nodded slightly.

"Better try than be on suspension. I'll try."

"In that case then I'll go with you" Vaggie suggested, getting up, putting her hands on her hips as a determined look was on her face.

"If this ever got out of hand, we still need a backup."

Alastor, at first, was a bit taken aback but, after hindsight, judged it wise.

It wasn't everyday after all he would communicate with something that seemed to have the same signs close to a demon.

What a strange sparring demon though.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"Holy-" Vaggie breathed out in disbelief and almost dread as her own flashlight pointed at the spot she was staring as Alastor stood next to her, his eyes wide as a plate.

"... Holy shit indeed." He finished after her, viewing the same sight as her.

The stone wall in front of them were just as enormous and imposingly gran like the others only the crater of water that was just a stew of chemicals or infected plants made it noticeable...

... And the gooey black liquid that was running down from the very top of the carven to the bottom, on the dirty burned down floor and almost below the two's feet.

It was still running and fresh. That's what struck them the most.

"What the fuck is that-?" Vaggie whispered yelled as she couldn't help herself but crouch down a bit, inspecting more the substance, curious but then she just stopped at getting closer, not really wanting to meddle herself with it.

Alastor also got closer but not that unlike Vaggie as he observed, cautious.

It wasn't like mud for the texture was smoother but not gasoline nor oil leaking from whatever holes or something similar in particular since the color was actually pitch black, not hue, nuance or anything else that would ressemble.

Then something else hit Alastor in his mind.

The gushy and oppressive feeling he had earlier.

It was gone but instead, the uncanny feeling was replacing with another variant of it, as if something or someone wanted to be able to reach him out or feel his own physical energy in any ways.

Just like the two time he felt wind brushing past him.

"This zone tastes weird."

"How so?" Alastor inquired. Vaggie frowned furthermore.

"I don't even know how to describe it precisely or in- normal words let's say to be honest. It's like- it's obvious something is here and it's not even supposed to be here. And yet, it's... Sweet. Almost a sugary scent." She then grumbled, massaging her forehead. "I know it's a very weird thing to say especially out of context but- I don't know!"

Alastor looked at her, patient. Honestly, she had a point. In that specific spot, who wasn't even not that far away from Rosie and Mimzy who were just a few meters away, the two weren't alone. However, unlike the usual disturbed energy or the unsatisfied weeping ghost who couldn't find an afterlife, it was more like an entity that... Was just there. Meaning no harm or whatsoever. The thing was just there, not really existing literacy speaking but you get it.

"Do you still want to try and communicate with them or not? We can still go back" Vaggie warned one last time, wanting to make sure Alastor would scale his choices well.

This time, however, he didn't hesitated that much anymore as he nodded.

Vaggie sighed a bit before backing away, giving the man space as he sat on the ground, barely touching the black liquid, crossing his legs before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

The last thing he could discern before completely dissociating was a vague red but small figure standing in front of him.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"D...e....d..r"

Alastor was already out of his body as he already felt another presence either behind on next to him. A new voice then rang out in his ears, completely unknown as he started to feel the warmth spreading out all over his body and the wind blowing almost all around.

"Hello?" He called out, moving slightly as to not startle whoever was with him.

Even if, judging by the sound and the tone of the blurred voice he could discern, they didn't seemed to be that sacred of him.

Well. He was lucky.

"I don't think I presented myself and I do apologize for that. My name is Alastor and I am here as a mediator. I just want to be able to communicate with whoever you are. I mean no harm nor cause disturbance here. If I am ever bothering you, I am deeply sorry and if are not willing to partake in I will not force you."

He took a small pause before he continued.

"However, we do engage each other with this, I have conditions. No harming or hurting either me or anyone in the underground."

Then Alastor stopped as he widened his eyes in surprise furthermore, seeing the bright although blurry orb just in front of him.

The entity's energy.

But it was weird yet they didn't seemed to be angry.

Without that much hesitation, he got closer to it and then the word that he vaguely heard a few moments ago was clearer now.

"Oh! Chadine!"

When he cleared his internal vision more, in front of him stood a short man, blonde hair and pale skin, almost similar to Mimzy. He was smiling brightly at Alastor, even slightly bouncing before waving at the taller.

"Hello!" He greeted as Alastor have founded himself dumbfounded.

"Uhm- hi-?" He reculantly greeted back while the other man smiled even more. Even the taller man felt a bit unnerved by this mysterious person's behavior, finding his smile a bit too much.

And the fact that this is the in quote demonic entity they have found down here-? How the fuck-

"Your hair."

Alastor couldn't help but be startled by the sudden words spoken by the individual.

"... Excuse me-?"

"You hair!" The blonde man insisted, pointing at the brunette's head before he added, with tone sweeter. "Really pretty."

Oooookay. Alastor wouldn't lie if it was probably getting a bit creepy.

"Uh thanks- I guess?" He awkwardly thanked as the other beamed furthermore.

"Luci." He spoke again pointing at himself before Alastor could connect the dots as his heart almost gave up.

"You're- you're Luci-"

"-fer."

"What?"

"Lucifer."

He pointed at himself, his smile going softer as to not startle the human.

"Name is Lucifer. You Alastor?" He asked, curious.

Without paying that much mind to the full name revealed, Alastor didn't say a word before he nodded, still wary but less tense than a few moments ago. Lucifer seemed to get that the taller man was still suspicious of him. The entity couldn't help but chuckles just slightly, raising his hands out.

"Not harm. Only curious." He tried to reassure which, unfortunately, wasn't that helpful that Alastor could only grasp a few comprehensive words there and there who weren't clear enough without context. The devil then continued, his tone slower as to articulate.

"Me no harm. I'm here wondering. Like new things. No hurt" Lucifer tried to explain as Alastor stared at him, still disoriented and deadpan.

However, the entity suddenly frowned as he looked at the human and the latter almost got scared, thinking that it- he would change his mind.

"You. Hurt. You not okay." Lucifer then brought as Alastor frowned in turn.

"Wait what do you mean? I'm fine." He argued back but Lucifer vividly shook his head.

"You sick. Ill. Need rest." He insisted as Alastor couldn't help but no trusting even more whoever this Lucifer was.

"I can assure I am not. Only... Tired."

But Lucifer wasn't having it.

"Like you but you need aid. Not tired. Burning hot. Shaking. Not feeling well." The blonde was persistent before shrugging, his tone less cheery although it was more caring. "Need to stop. Tell your friends. Will follow you. Make sure you're fine"

Alastor blinked rapidly for a few seconds before he realized what Lucifer meant as he was filled with dread.

"Wait Lucifer-!"

But just like that everything was gone and he almost choked out on his saliva when he came back on the physical world.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"Alastor! Are you okay??" Vaggie's worried voice rang out as the concerned one almost collapsed on the disgustingly filthy concrete ground, not even caring that the black gooey liquid was starting to stick on his hands and pants as he put an hand on his chest to calm down his fast beating heart.

"Alastor? Al?" Vaggie kept asking, taking the man's shoulders firmly as her frown deepen. "Alastor look at me." She asked firmly. "Alastor please-"

"I-I'm fine Vaggie I'm fine-" he finally managed to croak out after what felt like an eternity, rubbing his face in tiredness and exhaustion.

Said Vaggie was still gripping onto him almost like for dear life but then loosened a bit as she sighed in relief. "Thanks Atzi you're still with us. What happened? You seemed really shaken up." She inquired, her tone still concerned. Alastor shook his head.

"It's not- well-" he groaned out in frustration before he couldn't just keep it for himself. "I was able to be in contact with them- well him in that case"

Vaggie perked up at the statement.

"Luci??"

"Actually Luci is not his full name. It's almost like a nickname let's say. His name is Lucifer-"

"Guys."

Mimzy's voice suddenly rang out as the two immediately snapped their heads at it, seeing the short woman with Rosie, going towards them. Vaggie realized that the two didn't seemed that happy and her heart sped up when Rosie spoke up, her tone unusually unsure.

"Alastor? Mon cher, are you alright?"

"I'm fine dear." The man quickly responded before he swiftly changed the subject. "What happened to you twẞo? I thought you would stay next to the garage?" He asked.

The two concerned women looked at each other, unsure if they should share to the other duo what they have found.

But then again, their goals were to inspect and sees what kind of entities was floating around this uncanny place thus it was a crucial part of their findings.

Mimzy took out her phone as she searched for something in her gallery. Meanwhile Rosie explained, feeling even oppressed than the first time they entered underground.

"Technically me and Mim were actually waiting for you two to finish the communication thing but then I felt an energy, not stronger than when we did the ouija board but it was still prominent, going past me as I heard a voice following it. Mimzy didn't seemed fazed but felt a sudden shift of atmosphere as we decided to follow whatever this was, preparing ourselves..."

"Alright I've found it." Mimzy interrupted as she landed her phone to Vaggie, knowing Alastor wasn't fond on her own, who brought the phone closer as to watch was she tried to show until she instantly backed away, her expression dreadful as she processed what she saw.

"Wh-what- what the fuck???"

Rosie only nodded.

"The voice and its energy was masculine. I don't know if it's linked with Luci but- whatever that specific spot in here-"

She said, showing to Alastor the photo of what seemed to be a bedroom who had a ruined altar dedicated to the half destroyed statue of a naked woman with goat esque attributes, numerous words written on the walls and candles scattered all around.

The man couldn't help but shiver.

"The liquid we have found splattered all around the altar was not blood, fortunately but we did found bones and it was rather a sticky muddy weird mix of black-"

"-Just like this one." Alastor finished, raising his now dirty hand soaked with the same substance as Mimzy was definitely taken aback by it. Vaggie continued after she judged the two didn't had anything else to say.

"Alastor was able to be in contact with the entity that resides here."

"So it was indeed just one who was responsible of all of this?" Rosie asked as Vaggie nodded, continuing.

"Luci is not his full name. It's Lucifer." Alastor added, surprisingly nonchalant as the group all fell silent, the new information keeping them on edge.

After a while, Mimzy was the first to speak up, her words completely betraying her need to leave this place as fast as possible.

"Well?? What are we waiting for? This place is haunted by a fucking demon. Let's just get out of here as possible."

The rest couldn't agree more.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

After a few cleansing and procedures that would make sure they didn't forgot anything else , the four finally made it out of the underground factory. The exit they have found was way smaller than the spot where they entered but the ground wasn't as slippery as the other and, after dragging and crawling their bodies out of the dirt, they were all out, in the middle of afternoon as Mimzy grunted in pain upon having the sun flashing at her face after hours being inside something dark.

"Well at least it's not night. I hate going to a forest when it's completely devoid of lights." Rosie cheered up as Alastor nodded, agreeing with her while smiling at his queer platonic lover. Vaggie added.

"Yeah. Plus, we have more chances of getting lost when it's night."

"Ugh whatever. As long as we're out of this mad place I'm glad." Mimzy piped in before she smirked at the group. "Come on guys! Our tips is at Carmilla's house!"

Thus the shorter woman was the first to immediately lead the way, Vaggie shrugging and following her. Rosie carefully took Alastor's hand as she smiled at him before the two followed Mimzy, discussing other topics than what happened.

"Let's go guys!"

Alastor was about to bleat, feeling a sudden wave of stress coming back as his eyes widened in terror. Rosie didn't seemed to realize what was going on as she kept discussing with the others, smiling all the way.

And Alastor didn't know if he should bring it up the fact that he heard Lucifer's voice next to his ear, a sudden presence following close.

Shit-!

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

I didn't know if any of this shit made senses but I'm happy I wrote and finished this.

Anyway do you want it to be a small series or not? Because I would like to write about it too after the week will be finished and the following chapters/requests of my other stories!

See ya!

[30/10/2024]

(4806 words)

----

Wattpad version

Archive of our own version

[cruelestpigeon]

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES IMPRESSIONS: EP 95 - 99

EP 95: Absent Without Leave

Not that I’m complaining but why is Martin recording them when Jon is back? I like the war perspective, historical episodes are always interesting. Good on Basira for looking on the bright side of things.

EP 96: Return To Sender

Backstory on weird mover guys!! Circus guy getting mentioned again is a bit concerning. Wait I’m confused, why this episode and then Sarah Baldwin? How does that correlate? OH IT’S THE TAXIDERMY PLACE. I miss Sasha. Gertrude killed Daniel and took the skin??? DAISY JUST SHOT HER?????? I love Daisy’s voice actor omg.

EP 97: We All Ignore The Pit

So wait is Jon at the archives or still at Georgies? Or somewhere else entirely? Since Martin said he was only coming in to ask for a book or something. Wait nevermind he’s still at Georgies. Wasn’t he moving out? Wait. That voice sounds so familiar. OH MY GOD, IT’S THAT ONE AUDIO. “How can I sound anything silly, I’m plastic!” OH MY GODDDDDD IT’S THAT AUDIO!!! I WAS TRYING TO FIND WHERE IT WAS FROM SO I COULD WATCH IT OMG. Guess episode 100 or season finale is going to be the dance.

EP 98: Lights Out

YAY MORE MARTIN! Tim is so real because how is everyone else so chill about the archives. Oh Jon offered the job, okay yeah the hatred makes more sense. Rayner was that guy who visted the prisoner and ran that cult where Basira and Daisy tried for arrest him, right? How has this guy stayed alive for so long??? So reading these statements sucks the energy out of people not claimed by the eye? Since instead of harnessing the supernatural energy and feeding the eye, the eye consumes them? Melanie what are you planning because you paused for far too long before saying yes?? Guys I’m confused again I don’t understand anything :’)

EP 99: Dust To Dust

I don’t have anything to really say about this episode. MICHAEL???????? MICHAEL WAS GERTRUDES MARTIN???????????? “10 years yet before I can afford a conscience” Why 10 years??? What does that mean Gertrude??? Jon screaming “what the hell are you” is so real right now. So wait can you only have one avatar per weird god thingy? Because if so then what’s Elias’s deal???? Georgie is actually such a good friend I love them so much. Aaaand Jon just got kidnapped by the weird mover dudes. That’s great.

[devsmuses]

plotting call!!! hi friends! i've found myself wanting more in depth plotted roleplay threads, so i figured i'd post some dynamics, plots, and pairings i'm itching to play. feel free to shoot me a message if any of this sounds like something you'd want to write together!

• i have a gay nicholas galitzine oc, ezra, and i'm wanting to use him in some angsty mlm pairing. i always love a classic secret relationship plot, we could do something with one of the muses being closeted, maybe they are in a relationship, have a family, a wife, kids, and that's why they have to keep this thing with ezra a secret, but it's so complicated because they're beginning to fall for ezra. they want him, but they can't ruin the life they've built to be with him.

• i saw a post floating around where the female muse is a broken party girl who sleeps around and she works at a diner with the male muse who's just a nice guy, and she's always telling him he's too good for her, and maybe they've shared a few kisses, but she just won't let the male muse treat her right and take her out on a date. give me them working late in the diner together, give me the female muse complaining about her tragic love life to the male muse while he's thinking he could treat her better if she just let him, give me him bringing in a date to the diner or maybe a customer flirts with him in front of the female muse and now she's being short with him and acting jealous. ideally i'd like to use my devon lee carlson muse, kylie, but i'm open to using a different muse i already have.

• give me a pair of criminals who team up together and have to go on the run after their first big-hit doesn't go how they planned. give me them arguing about whose fault it was that their plans fell apart, give me them in a dingy motel together having to share a small bed, give me them finally bonding and maybe becoming just a lil flirty with each other. i can imagine them chatting and telling one another how they turned to a life of crime, and just detailing the old lives they left behind. give me them doing more jobs, give me them having to escape their motel when the cops show up randomly.

• something horror related or supernatural! give me something like scream, maybe one of our muses is the killer, or maybe they're both being stalked by ghostface and they're trying to survive! maybe they're each a child of someone from the og cast, like sidney's child, gale's child, etc. or it could also be fun to just each play one of the canon characters having to deal with ghostface being back again. this definitely needs further plotting!!!

• some kind of period roleplay! we could do like an arranged marriage royal plot, or maybe even some plot revolving around a band in the 70s/60s. for the royal period plot i would love for it to be wlw or mlm because that obviously raises the stakes. i imagine for the 60s/70s band plot to be a similar dynamic to daisy jones and the six. give me a romance between toxic band members. they shouldn't be together but they have to always be around one another, and their passion isn't the kind you can just ignore.

[empress-of-snark]

mid-year reading tag 2023

(copying @televinita cause it seemed like fun)

1. best book you’ve read so far this year

Probably Daisy Jones and the Six (Taylor Jenkins Reid). No, I still haven’t watched the Amazon series cause frankly, the book was exhausting and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to watch the whole story play out all over again, but I’ll get to it one day.

The book was really good, though! Ignored it for a long time because of the hype, but it was deserved.

2. best sequel you’ve read so far this year

I’ve only read two sequels so far, but I’ll go with Thunderhead (Neal Shusterman), sequel to Scythe. I wasn’t quite invested enough in the series to be very upset that my library doesn’t have a copy of the third (and final) book, but I enjoyed it.

3. new release you haven’t read yet

There’s apparently a book called A Song of Sin and Salvation (L. H. Blake) that came out last month and is quite literally published Hellcheer fanfiction (good girl x bad boy, set in the 80’s, music-focused, even the cover art looks like them lmao). Obviously I need to get my hands on it immediately.

4. most anticipated release for the second half of the year

Definitely the new Cormoran Strike book, The Running Grave (Robert Galbraith), which comes out in September (and hell yes I’ve already pre-ordered it). Was not expecting another installment only a year after the last one, but I’ve been addicted to this series since I started it last year, so I am not complaining!

5. biggest disappointment

Gotta be A Discovery of Witches (Deborah Harkness). I was expecting a spooky supernatural mystery but misjudged how much of the story would be devoted to the romance. It’s basically Twilight but with slightly more plot. Not bad really, just disappointing.

6. biggest surprise

Honestly, this hasn’t been a stellar book year for me so far. I guess that’s a surprise in and of itself? Hope it picks up in the next six months.

7. favorite new author (debut or new to you)

A lot of the authors I’ve read this year have been ones I’m familiar with, but Daisy Jones was my first from Taylor Jenkins Reid. I know she also wrote The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, which I’ve also heard great things about. I’ll definitely give that one a try when I get the chance!

8. newest fictional crush/newest favorite character

I dunno if I would go so far as to call them crushes, but I did love James from Longbourn (Jo Baker) and Moist von Lipwig from Going Postal (Terry Pratchett). Very different characters, but they were both great leading men.

9. book that made you cry

The Five People You Meet in Heaven (Mitch Albom). My best friend recommended it to me ages ago, and I finally read it (in one sitting) and got extremely choked up at the end.

10. book that made you happy

Going Postal was a great reminder of how much I love Terry Pratchett. While the prospect of reading his entire Discworld series is a little daunting, I’ve very much enjoyed the two that I have read (plus Good Omens, of course).

I’ve definitely enjoyed some of the books I’ve read this year, but a lot of them have just been a bit lackluster. Hopefully the second half of the year will be better!

[halliwellauto]

@halofcrged sent: [ EXIT ]: sender physically catches hold of the threat and drags them away from the receiver, and outside of the building. / Aiden and John

It wasn't unheard of for Aiden to deal with the occasional angry customers. One that just didn't agree with her methods or wanted more from her. It often added to her stress when she had to worry about the occasional supernatural attacks here and there. Though she tried to make sure that it never tore her down. she had faced things like this before. It wasn't like it was new to her. She was capable of defending herself and even more stopping a customer from getting violent. But she had been off her game recently with how busy she had gotten since John appeared in her life. Not that she was complaining. His presence did bring good and she had been determined to help him return home. Even though the idea of that would make her sad.

she had got in between her customer and her crew member. she didn't want things to get out of hand and she politely told the other to go. He was a man bigger than her. Which he thought he could use against her to get his way. But his anger only seemed to grew when she didn't bend to his will so to speak. She threatened to call the cops if he didn't leave her building. She knew that if she reacted it was only going to get worse and he might use that against her and her crew. She handed him his keys and told him where his car was. She told him to have a nice day before turning to check on her employee. that had been a mistake on her part.

The man grabbed her hair, holding it tight. He was yelling at her, demanding he got what he wanted. she struggled to get away and everyone in the shop tried to interfere. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to not let panic set in. Though then the pressure was gone and she heard someone struggling and shouting. she opened her eyes to see John, dragging the man away.

She stood there confused before following behind them. She wanted to make sure that things didn't go further. Though she was grateful to him for saving her. "I thought you were on a walk with Daisy. I didn't think you'd be back for another hour."

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 177 - Wonderland

Jon: When did I become everybody’s satnav?

Hasn't he also complained about being used as the supernatural Google before? Jon, I think you're just everyone's entire smartphone at this point. You even do entertaining little podcast segments about local sights!

Martin: What? No, no, that can’t be right. I thought people weren’t even allowed to die any more.

I mean, that's not strictly true, though, is it? Didn't Oliver Banks explicitly say that the End can't exist as a fear without death remaining real? And really, there's no particular reason why "some people can still die" would only be true in that particular domain...

Martin: He needs to make a statement. Basira: Is that like a euphemism or…? Okay, this is getting very silly, but also I still sniggered.

Hi. How are we doing? - Jon's statement

Oh, the doctor's 'we' is a beautiful touch. So wonderfully condescending, immediately made me feel trapped (and why the FUCK do doctors irl keep doing that anyway? I've never had a doctor who used the 'medical we' who turned out to be any good!)

Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you there. That’s not your name at all. Now don’t get agitated, I’m sure we’ll get there.

Oh, and that. That hurts! "No, you're crazy, so you no longer get to decide anything about yourself, not even your very identity. And if that upsets you, that's just another sign of your illness". The ripping away of any autonomy. Yeah, no, that's suitably nightmarish. (You could also read this from a transphobia angle, couldn't you?)

I’m here to help you, to treat you, to make it so you’re less of a… burden to everyone.

AAAAAH!

Jon: Satisfied? Basira: Fuck.

Just, Basira's delivery here. This is the most matter-of-fact way you could possibly say "Fuck".

Jon: It’s sort of, like… gaslighting, but in reverse. This place, it’s built on the fear that your mental health problems aren’t actually real. (...) Bad therapists. Let’s just say it’s the fear of bad therapists, filtered through The Spiral.

Okay, Johny, just, why this? Who in the audience needed the explanatory notes??? Trust your audience to do basic media interpretation. You have so far!

Jon: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a ‘nasty piece of work’? Basira: We don’t have time for this.

It's the fucking apocalypse, you're literally on your way to KILL Daisy because she didn't want to live as a monster, and you still won't even stop to consider that her victims might not have DESERVED the monstrous shit she's done to them? Denial sure runs deep...

Jon: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her…

Oh, now that's a gut-punch of a revelation if I've ever seen one!

Helen: Not to sound like a squeaky hinge...

... a door metaphor? Really? Pffffft!

My impression of this episode

This episode has some genuinely terrifying moments. The concept of "Let's take the worst parts of the medical / mental health care system and say the quiet parts out loud, then combine that with the worst things your brain tells you" is perhaps a bit on the nose, but also genuinely, deeply, nauseatingly unsettling. This episode just kind of ruins itself by then proceeding to explain the point (which was already pretty obvious) in detail. Just ... there are a lot of episodes that I don't personally connect with, but TMA very rarely makes decisions that I would call "bad writing". Unfortunately this is one of them. YOU HAD A GOOD (and horrifying) THING GOING THERE! Mind, that's still not enough to ruin the whole episode for me, particularly not when that "And now for those in the audience who weren't paying attention" bit is immediately followed by a genuinely hard-hitting conversation about Basira and Daisy.

[bywandandsword]

Jon would naturally have a thicker southern accent, but at some point decided it wasn't professional and trained himself into a neutral accent. At first, it only comes out when he's particularly stressed or afraid, but as the series continues, it comes out more as he comes to terms with himself

There'd be a ton of complaining about how the college's budget could afford a new locker room for the football team but god forbid they fix the leak in the Archives ceiling where irreplaceable records are kept (may or may not be based on my irl experience)

Tim and Sasha would have guns immediately upon learning there were monsters after them and Jon takes to carrying a pocket knife. Tim and Sasha take Jon and Martin to the range to practice and Jon tries but ends up getting horribly bruised from a rifle's recoil and decides to leave it up to the others. Martin proves exceptionally skilled (making Jon more paranoid at first)

Everyone's got some flavor of ~*religious trauma*~

There'd be a lot more of the gang going to talk to someone's mom or grandma or the old guys who hang out at the diner when looking for leads on things

Just, more sense of community in general. This means it's that much more shocking and heart wrenching when Martin joins the Lonely in S4

Instead of hot tea, Martin would be offering coffee, iced tea, or lemonade. More incessantly, cause his mother may not like him, but she'll be damned if she didn't raise a Southern Gentleman and Martin is so damned anxious about pleasing his mama it becomes a habit and these habits kick in whenever he's anxious, even if his mama ain't there to see it (Martin's mama would have a cross wall I know it in my heart to be true)

West Virginia Coal mines with the Buried and the Dark. Louisiana saltdome sinkholes with the Buried and the Vast. Suburbia with the Stranger and the Lonely. The fossil fuel industry with the Corruption

Jonah Magnus was definitely a plantation owner. When he's found out, he'll claim to have been a product of his time and that he's evolved since then, but, well, we see how he treats the archive staff

Speaking of, the Lukases, the Fairchilds, and the Bouchards are all Old Money Southern. Jonah exclusively body hops into men from Old Money families. Mary Keay wants so badly to be Old Money Southern but could never shake being a messy toxic redneck

Helen Richardson is a transplant from New England. She just gives off the Vibes

The Safe House is in west Texas, so there's still Good Cows

Next to no public transport, which means everyone has a car. Tim and Daisy of course have sturdy trucks, and it's Daisy's truck Jon and Martin take to the Safehouse. Martin drives because Jon can't drive stick

Trevor and Julia would not be the only monster hunters the gang encounters, there would 100% be a Supernatural-style Hunter community running around

New Orleans, Savannah, Charleston, St. Augustine FL, and Vicksburg would all have at least five statements each

Remember the People's Church of the Divine Host? They're a big tent evangelical church now, outwardly looking no different than so many other evangelical churches. Their neighbors don't bat an eye when they start talking in tongues or invite people over to the Sunday fish fry. Once they're there though....

We'd find out that at least one of cryptids they have up in Appalachia are avatars of one of the powers

Jon's trip across the pond takes place during summer break, which is why the Archive is able to function without him. He's back before the end of August. The month he was with the Orsinov was over winter break, which is why no one noticed he was gone

More police brutality comments/jokes

Grifter's Bone's genre is Conservative Stadium Country. They make people violent in part because of how INSUFFERABLE they are

At least one Vast or Lonely statement involves a cornfield. A never ending monotonous landscape of this one empty-feeling cornfield that no matter how far you walk you can never leave

I keep thinking about what the Magnus Archives would be like if they took place in the American deep south and the Archives were attached to Tulane or Emory or the University of Florida

[needcake]

⭐ for 'Second Skin' because it amazes me and traumatises me to this day <3

hahaha thank you babe!!

Ok so Second skin was actually inspired by your Killer’s Ridge! I remember reading that and going ‘wow this is so cool!!!! I wanna try something with horror too’

So at first I was like ‘it’d be cool if they couldn’t touch each other’, then that quickly developed into Arthur killing everything he touched. For moment I thought of it being something he always had, then I thought about him being cursed. But those were taking me into sad Pushing Daisies territory and I didn’t want that.

The idea that Arthur wasn’t Arthur came when I was already half-way through, and so I went back to the beginning to rewrite some parts. I knew I didn’t want to give the creature a name per se, but I based it on the shapeshifters from Supernatural. They eat human flesh, the transformation process is incredibly painful and they retain the memories of their victims.

The backstory is that the creature moved into the house when it was empty. Then one day a young couple moved in and it began observing them, what they did, how they worked, what they were like. Like a little private soap. But it made these creaking noises when it moved in the attic, and Gabriel was always complaining about the house being infested with rats and bugging Arthur to do something about it.

They go out one night, come back home a little drunk, have sex, and then the noises begin again and Gabriel is more than a little fed up and they have a fight. Arthur grabs the rat traps he had bought but hasn’t installed and storms up to the attic.

The creature hadn’t particularly planned to kill him that night, it liked watching them, but Arthur coming up threw a wrench on things and it had to do something about it.

When it comes back down, it’s no longer Arthur, but it feels like Arthur, it remembers being Arthur. Dylan calls him to ask if Gabriel could see Connor about a cavity after clinic hours and Arthur accompanies them. But when he touches them, they both fall to the ground in stasis and Arthur, thinking it is Arthur, thinks he killed them so Gabriel grabs him and takes him out of the country.

But then of course, the story progresses and the creature goes from having a passive stance to Gabriel’s orders to taking a more active role as it remembers being itself again and starts growing hungry.

I had a whole sheet of paper with diagrams and dates while writing this XDD it was a lot of fun! I even considered the driving times between London, the French countryside, the Spanish countryside and Portugal, during which I discovered that Europe is actually really small and I had to speed things up a little. At first the road trip was supposed to last weeks :’)

The first smut scene, of them in the random Spanish motel after they first buy the gloves is one of my personal favorite sex scenes I’ve ever written. I think I really nailed that one XDD

I thought the title would be a dead giveaway, but it really wasn’t! And I was so pleasantly surprised by the feedback!! It made me want to try doing more horror XDD

[modern-inheritance]

Tell us your silliest Eragon and Arya head canons!

Hell yeah I can! Some of these are gonna be used for stories later, and may not be as silly as you might have wanted, but it’s mostly a collection of the weirdest and whackiest stuff I can remember putting down as canon for the MIC Eragon and Arya.

Eragon:

Eragon was not terribly prone to mischief as a child, but would often get dared by Roran or other children to do things and would give in. He was well known as a crackshot with anything, including his slingshot as a boy, and frequently these dares would involve Eragon hiding somewhere and using his insane aim to knock things out of peoples hands or set off natural Rube Goldberg machines.

When Eragon first went into the Spine when he was about 8 years old it scared the hell out of everyone. Search parties were formed but they couldn’t go past the outer edges of the forest due to superstition. Marian, Garrow’s wife, eventually grabbed Garrow by the ear and literally dragged him into the woods, after which the reluctant villagers followed. Eragon showed up perfectly unharmed at Brom’s house later, chattering excitedly about all the wildlife and cool new spots he had found.

This uncanny ability made some people think Eragon was a changeling for a while. He was teased about it mercilessly until Brom scared the hell out of the other kids. Brom was considered the authority on all things weird and magical, and when he firmly said that Eragon was nothing but human, the adults took his word as well. No one spoke of it after that.

When in his early teens and exploring deeper into the Spine than ever before, Eragon encountered a lost Urgal child. As Urgal children actually look remarkably human, Eragon just assumed the girl was a part of the fabled lost tribes of the Spine. He used his tracking skills to follow her original path back to her village, but when she ran into one of the huts and never came back out, he headed home. He mentioned it to Brom once, the old man sternly told him to never go back, and had all his ‘why’ questions shut down hard.

Even though he’s gotten used to his newfound elvish strength, Eragon still occasionally breaks things.

A combined headcanon for Eragon and Saphira: When one of them sneezes, the other also sneezes immediately after.

His favorite breakfast food is peanut butter and banana pancakes.

Sloan has a general dislike for him not only because of his frequent trips to the Spine, but also because Eragon once puked in his shop.

Eragon knows general ways to do women’s hair! When Marian was ill he would often help brush her hair for her and braid it. He eventually started asking Katrina and Elain for tips on how to do different styles, as he saw how happy it made his Aunt. He occasionally braids Arya’s hair for her, first using it as a way to help her get used to having people sitting behind her again, and later just for fun. Post-war, once word got around, the young girls and even the longer haired boys of the Rider school sometimes run up to him asking for help with their hair, which he gladly obliges.

Until first in Teirm and then later with the Varden and in Du Weldenvarden, Eragon wasn’t exposed to much in the way of tropical and subtropical fruit. When Arya managed to barter some kiwi at Tronjheim’s market and handed one off to Eragon, he yelled and almost dropped it because it felt, in his words, “Like a shaved horse nut.”

Saphira thought this was hilarious. She also fuckin’ loves kiwi.

Brom originally had vital organ protecting wards around Eragon as a toddler, but removed them as the kid grew. Not because he didn’t need them, but because Eragon had long ago proved to be a mix of the situationally unluckiest while results-luckiest person alive. He could be chased off a cliff by bees but would get up and walk away with just a bunch of bruises and a twisted ankle.

Eragon hated learning to swim. Like, clinging on to Garrow’s arm wailing at the top of his lungs.

Arya:

Is the accidental source of a ghost story in the Surdan borderlands. During the continued border skirmishes that were Arya’s first taste of combat, during the night she would get bored, sneak out of camp, cross the no mans land, and pilfer weapons and gun emplacements to bring back. Because no alarms were ever raised, no one was ever seen, and these thefts occasionally happened when the guarding Broddring soldiers backs were turned for just a few moments, the Broddring men began whispering about a pilfering poltergeist. Arya didn’t even know about this until decades later, when a young Surdan infantryman complained to her about his post at the border, claiming it was haunted and told the stories of .50 cals going missing.

These infiltration runs eventually became sabotage runs to destroy or disable artillery. And yes, I was influenced by this. 

Like Eragon relearning his strength after his transformation, Arya was very much not used to the more fragile makeup of human made items. Men in her group would often say ‘be gentle’ when passing her stuff like mugs or plates in the mess. Some people still do simply because they grew up around others doing so. 

Can move a dwarvish tank with her bare hands, and has on several occasions. There is a story behind this that several people on tumblr know the gist of, but I’ve never been able to tack it down well enough to write. But a team building/proving exercise during bootcamp to move a disabled tank a few feet turned into Arya and the other recruits she was with pushing the whole thing back into the repair shop. Some of the guys disabled the brakes, a couple climbed in to help steer (like you would with a car in neutral) after Arya pried the hatch open, and the rest posted on the corners of the tank to yell directions to her. The drill master had been kind of a dick to Arya because he didn’t trust elves (and generally didn’t want women in any of his squads) and Arya was sick of it. This was the result.

Arya sometimes acts as a drill instructor for Varden recruits. She, Glenwing and Fäolin were also frequently used as the ‘looks can be deceiving’ example for newbies when they were available. This usually involved games of ‘Go pick the elf up. Can’t? Alright let's see the elf do it. As you can see, this elf can pick you up and lift you off your feet one handed and not break a sweat. These elves are friendly, and will generally not throw you. Forsworn elves are not friendly. They will throw you.’ and other shows of speed, strength, agility and supernatural skills.

Arya occasionally works as a bartender at Coop’s bar. Her favorite drink involves grape soda.

Electroswing dancing? Electroswing dancing. 

Uses the elvish phrase ‘growing a pine tree’ instead of the more classic human phrase of ‘pushing up daisies.’

Was 100% not understanding that Fäolin was interested in her for a long time, while also not realizing she was interested in him. Clueless demiromantic/demisexual.

Very distantly related to Glenwing.

Naturally knows nearly every way to make Islanzadí’s eyebrow twitch in irritation.

OFC there’s more than these but it’s what I’ve got for now! Thanks for the ask!! Send mooore!!!

[ieattaperecorders]

Something's Different About You Lately - Epilogue: Borrowed Time

Life goes on, impossibly.

Read on Ao3

---

Martin shifted the bag of groceries in his arms as he climbed the stairs, still feeling a bit nervous.

The dinner had been Jon's idea – his O&M instructor was covering kitchen skills, and he'd thought it would be fun for the two of them to try making something together. The recipe had sounded a little elaborate to Martin, who'd protested that he didn't cook much, but Jon promised that it wasn't beyond them. He added that Martin was ‘perfectly capable' in the kitchen anyway, and said it with such prim, knowing confidence that Martin hadn't even bothered to ask. Before he knew it, he was writing down a list of ingredients to bring over.

He supposed that was just going to keep happening, Jon telling him things about himself. It was . . . strange. Sometimes it was endearing, sometimes just annoying. Occasionally it made him feel sentimental and a little bit sad in a way he couldn't put his finger on.

The door to the flat opened after a moment of knocking, and he smiled as Jon appeared.

"Hi Jon, it's Martin," he said. He'd read online it was polite to say your name, to not assume the other person will recognize your voice. "I've got the groceries."

"I know it's you, Martin." His tone was light and a little condescending, and Martin felt heat rise to his ears. "Come on inside. You know where the kitchen is."

Martin slipped past him and set down the bag, pulling things out and arranging them on the counter as Jon followed him to the kitchen.

"The store was out of chili paste," he mentioned.

Jon shrugged. "We'll improvise, then."

"If you say so."

Jon began taking out cookware, placing things down wherever he found counter space. "Do anything interesting today?" he asked, over the clatter of pans.

"Not especially. Filled out a few applications, then took a walk," he said. "Met a really friendly dog in the park."

"Flattered that you tore yourself away to come here."

"Wasn't by choice, her owner wouldn't let me keep her."

"How unreasonable."

It was weird, not having to worry so much about money. Not that Martin was complaining of course, but there was still a voice in his head telling him he was being too slow and selective in his job search, that it was lazy of him. And he felt anxious dipping into the new funds too much.

He'd just about gone into conniptions when Sasha told him what she'd done while she'd been fiddling with Elias's computer. Embezzlement might not have been an escalation when they were already committing arson, but they could still get caught, and wouldn't a financial windfall point a lot of suspicion towards them? But she kept assuring him that it was untraceable, some hidden fund Elias had, ready to be drawn on by anyone with the account information. The running theory was that he'd been keeping it for his next identity, which . . . yeah, the less Martin thought about that, the better.

Fear of discovery aside, he couldn't deny it was nice having a buffer like this. There was space he'd never had before to think about where he wanted to be, what he wanted to do with himself. And with the bills taken care of, Jon could focus his time on recovering. At the urging of his O&M teacher (and some amount of prodding on Martin's end) he'd even started talking to a counselor every few weeks. It was ostensibly just about handling the emotions that come up with sudden, traumatic vision loss, and he doubted Jon would be discussing the more exotic traumas he'd been through. Still. It was probably good he had something like that.

They went about the business of prepping ingredients, talking idly about food, things they'd done in the past few days, updates from Tim and Sasha. Martin's initial nerves already dissolving into the steady flow of conversation. There was something comfortable, he reflected, in being around someone who was so comfortable with him.

"Would you mind--" Jon frowned, fiddling with the hob on the stove. "I've got this, I'm fairly sure. Just . . . make sure I keep the pan centered?"

"Sure."

He came to stand behind Jon, watching over his shoulder as he set the carefully oiled pan on the stove and turned on the heat. Martin was a terribly distracted spotter, his attention frequently straying from the pan to look at Jon's face, pinched slightly in concentration. There was a single bead of sesame oil on his cheek, and it made his intensely serious expression that much more charming.

Despite his concerns, Jon had the pan well handled as he heated the oil and added in the aromatics. Martin only noticed him drifting once, the flames going high on one side of the pan.

"A little left," he advised.

In a moment of impulse and bravery, Martin curved an arm around him – placing a hand on his elbow, then running it down his arm to cover Jon's hand with his own, guiding the pan carefully into place. Jon leaned back, fitting the curve of his body into Martin's and sighing deeply.

"God, I've missed this," Jon exhaled. "Just . . . cooking dinner with you. All these little domestic things."

His voice was so unselfconsciously fond. It made Martin dizzy, just how easily affection poured out of him.

In hindsight, at least part of Jon's strange, awkward behavior around Martin had been a result of him holding back, wary of letting his feelings show. He never held anything back now -- his demeanor going from nonchalant or haughty to unbelievably soft and loving at the slightest prompting. It still took Martin by surprise, inspiring so much unreserved affection in someone. It wasn't anything he'd usually associate with himself. It was strange, and lovely, and at times made him feel almost frighteningly powerful.

He leaned forward, kissing the soft skin just beside Jon's ear. Jon smiled, holding his pose for a moment before gradually returning his attention to the pan, shaking it gently to move the vegetables around. Martin kept a hand on his, now fully for the sake of touch rather than any pretense of assistance, letting Jon's movements guide them both.

"Did we cook together in that cabin a lot?" he asked.

Jon nodded. "It was one of a handful of things we could do that felt . . . well, like a date, I suppose. We couldn't really go anywhere since we were lying low. I mean, we could walk around the area, isolated as it was, but trips to the village were all short and functional. So preparing something elaborate together made an evening feel special," he smirked. "You used to get defensive, too, just like today . . . saying you didn't really cook, like you were trying to lower my expectations."

"In my defense, I never said I didn't cook, just . . . ." Not since mum left , he thought. "Not for a while."

"To be honest, we were both at a disadvantage in that kitchen," Jon continued. "There weren't a lot of modern conveniences there. The power came from a generator, and the stove was an ancient, wood-burning thing that neither of us quite knew what to do with at first. Took a lot of trial and error before we really managed."

"Sounds cozy."

"Oh yes. So cozy we almost suffocated ourselves before we figured out how to adjust the vents."

Martin smiled, listening to Jon describe the little kitchen in that place. The cabin in Scotland had supposedly been a remote safehouse the two of them laid low in, but the way Jon talked about it sometimes it might as well have been a romantic holiday retreat. He made it sound so nice that Martin once idly suggested they go see it someday. Jon had gone tense and quiet at that, had shaken his head and said softly that they had to stay far, far away from that place. That there was nothing good that happened there now.

Jon was mostly open about the things he remembered. But sometimes "open" meant he'd easily speak at length about something, and other times "open" meant he'd answer your questions with short, one-sentence explanations, volunteering nothing unless pushed. And anything about the police officers he'd apparently worked with fell solidly into the second category.

Sometimes it seemed like they might have been friends, but Jon was always adamant that no one ever try to contact them. Daisy in particular seemed hard to talk about. Martin did know about the coffin. Jon had told him in a soft, emotional voice how another Martin had stepped from his cloud of isolation to set out tape recorders calling him home, how it had been one of very few things that let Jon believe he hadn't given up on him yet. And he knew something had been different about Daisy after the coffin, some sinister force like the one that had kept them at the Institute had loosened its hold on her.

He also knew that Jon was terrified of her, that he said again and again she was too dangerous to go near. That something about her made him sad -- and, Martin suspected, guilty, though he wasn't sure why. It was a topic he'd decided not to push . . . if Jon ever wanted to talk more about it, he would in his own time.

There were other things, things closer to home for Martin that Jon had hesitated over. Once while he was recounting the events of those years he'd paused mid-sentence. Stammered that it wasn't all supernatural in nature and some of it may still happen, and was he sure he wanted to know everything? Martin imagined Jon thought he was being subtle, but it wasn't a hard guess.

He told Jon not to give him the date. It was obviously going to be within the next couple of years, there was no spitting out that apple of knowledge. But he didn't want to be able to mark it on his calendar.

It shouldn't have felt like news, that his mum was going to die soon. Shouldn't have been the uncomfortable weight in his chest that it was. She was ill, of course it was coming, it had been coming for a while, hadn't it? But maybe that was the problem. It had been ‘any day now' for such a long time, ‘any day' had stopped feeling like a reality. And he still wasn't sure what to do with this information, if it really changed anything. Should he try to get some sort of closure? How did you make the most of the time you had left with a person who refuses to see you?

Martin hadn't asked Jon how much he knew about his mum, that just wasn't a conversation he was eager to have. But the careful, hesitant way Jon talked around the subject suggested . . . something, at least. Just like how the gentle, quiet tone he got when he talked about the Lonely told Martin more than he really wanted to have explained.

There was only one thing Jon flatly refused to tell him about, and that was whatever Elias had done to him on the day of the Unknowing. When pushed, Jon had gone quiet for a while, then said he didn't remember. It had been a lie, and a bad one, and both of them knew it. But it was clear there was no point in asking for more.

"You like pizzelles, don't you?"

Jon's voice snapped Martin to the present. With a last squeeze of Martin's hand, he turned off the flame, moved away from the stove and over to the pantry.

"Um, dunno?" Martin said, pulling his thoughts back together. "Never tried them."

"Really?" Jon frowned, pausing halfway to the cabinet door. Then he shrugged. "Well, no matter. You will."

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon spoke with so much more authority than anyone deserved to hold over another person's cookie preferences, and he couldn't help feeling contrary.

"No. You stepped on a butterfly last week and set off a chain of events that forever changed my feelings on pizzelles, I hate them now."

"That's all right," Jon said, popping open the plastic package and arranging the cookies on a plate. "If you don't want these, there's also canned peaches for dessert."

"Oh, don't you dare --"

Jon snickered, picking out a broken piece of one of the large, thin cookies and holding it out, just short of passing it into Martin's mouth. With an annoyed grunt, Martin leaned forward, taking a bite.

Damn it. It was really, really good.

---

Jon sank into the couch, pleasantly full and a little bit tired. He leaned back and listened to the sound of running water coming from the next room.

Martin had insisted on doing the dishes, on the basis that Jon had done "all the real work" of cooking. He wasn't sure that was true, but didn't argue. Just asked that he leave everything in the drainboard when he was finished so Jon could put it away later. He knew he'd be frustrated for hours if the dishes weren't where he expected them to be.

There were so many frustrations in his life now. His O&M instructor had promised he'd learn new ways to move through the world, that in time the frustrations would be fewer and fewer, and he'd find himself capable of nearly everything he'd done before the loss of his sight. Jon believed her, but it didn't make the prospect of getting there any less daunting. Nor did it make the learning process any easier.

The worst were the things his instructor would never understand, that no resource or guidebook would mention. The dread that gripped him when he became disoriented and found a door where he wasn't expecting one. The phantom tickles on his body that prompted him to pat himself down for spiders again and again.

Still. He was alive. The others were freed from the institute, and he was there with them, to struggle and to mourn and to continue on.

A part of him would always fear it had been a mistake. That the Web, or the Eye, or some other power still had plans for him that would reach apotheosis someday. Maybe he saw the fear as vigilance, as though something was waiting for him to feel safe so that it could rip that security from him. And as long as he never allowed himself to be truly, entirely at ease, that day would never come.

Irrational, perhaps. But it was so hard to tell anymore which irrational fears were truly irrational, and which would one day manifest with teeth and claws.

Even if nothing ever came for him, they had only bought the world some time. One day, maybe soon, someone would figure it out and attempt a ritual again. Maybe there would be others out there who would catch it in time, postponing the end over and over, forever. Or maybe someone would do it next week, and Jon would be plunged along with everyone else into unspeakable suffering until Terminus claimed them all. He could follow Gertrude's path if he chose, devote his life to stopping rituals at the cost of everything he cared for. Even then one could slip past him, come from someplace he hadn't been watching, or had been made not to notice. At some point he was going to have to find a way to live with that knowledge.

He'd work on it. But for the moment . . . .

The sound of running water stopped. Jon smiled, scooting to make room on the couch, feeling the cushions sink and shift as they took the weight of another person. With a hmm that came out with more whine to it than he'd wanted, Jon found Martin's arm and tugged it towards him. With a quiet laugh, Martin obliged, leaning into him and resting his head against his chest.

"Better," Jon arranged their limbs more comfortably. Martin's hands were still cold, and he smelled faintly of dish soap.

"Glad to hear it."

Jon knew Martin found it amusing, how clingy he was. The first time he'd commented on it had been profoundly embarrassing. Part of it was just the way Jon was, but he also remembered the days after the Lonely. The skittish, uncertain moments of contact, the times when Martin stiffened at his touch but whimpered when he pulled away. The other days, when they could barely let go of one another, when Jon would plant himself beside Martin or wrap his arms over his shoulders, and he would relax into it, sighing with release. Both of them too grateful for the fragile miracle of each other's touch to consider breaking contact.

This Martin didn't remember those days, and if he ever sensed anything desperate or reverent in the way Jon clung, he didn't comment on it. Still, even if he found it funny, he didn't seem to mind how ardently Jon held on to him.

Jon moved a hand into the space between Martin's shoulder blades and scratched down his spine, the particular way he used to like. Jon felt him shiver with pleasure under the soothing contact, and a powerful warmth spread through him.

"God . . ." Martin whispered, "you really know everything about me, don't you?"

Jon snorted. "Hardly. In a very real way, we barely had time to get to know each other. And when we did, well . . . it was close by necessity. It was intimate, and intense. But there's still a great deal I've no idea about."

"You were never tempted to use those powers of omniscience to look inside my head?"

"Constantly," Jon said, with great seriousness. "But I never did. I promised."

Martin went quiet at that. Maybe Jon's reply had been a little intense, or maybe Martin hadn't actually realized that looking inside his head had been a possibility when he'd asked the question as a joke.

"Oh," he said eventually. "Um . . . good?"

"I have picked up a few things," Jon continued, speaking with quiet and fond admiration. "For example . . . I know you'd like a pet, but your landlord won't allow them so you keep plants instead. You can't say no to panhandlers. You have a favorite hoodie that you only wear when you're sad and need the comfort. You like old, careworn furniture, and rainy days, and sitcoms that were made before you were born. You're kind to people who aren't kind to you, but you never forget the unkindness."

"Wow. Okay," Martin made a soft noise, shifting in his arms, voice tight and quiet. "Okay. Y-You're, uh, probably going to kill me if you keep that up, you know."

"Trust me, you've survived worse."

He felt Martin move a little higher, slotting himself beside Jon and giving him a tight squeeze. Jon grinned as the breath was pushed out of him, all twenty-four of his ribs contracting at the assault.

That was another difference, one of dozens of subtle changes Jon couldn't keep his mind from analyzing. Martin wasn't ungentle, exactly. But he hugged Jon more tightly, shoved or poked him when he was annoyed, whereas the Martin in his memories had held back a little. Been more mindful of his strength, as if wary he might handle him too roughly. It had been subtle, a thing Jon hadn't even noticed until he had something to contrast it against.

It made sense, he supposed. The other Martin had seen Jon limp back to the institute with fresh wounds and new scars one too many times. This one didn't have to have those images in his head.

There were some things that were lost between them, Jon knew that. Memories too small and simple to explain, questions he couldn't ask anymore. Moments they would never share, both good and bad. But there was also so much they had gained. This Martin hadn't had an easy life, not by any measure. But he hadn't had to watch helplessly as the people around him died or disappeared or became monstrous. Hadn't been lost in grinning corridors, or attacked by Hopworth's hooligans, or made to feel the heat of the endless tenement fire. And for that, Jon was so, so grateful.

"You look thoughtful," Martin commented.

"Mmm," Jon sat quietly for a while sifting through his thoughts before speaking. "We should go to a movie sometime. When I'm up for going out out."

"That sounds less fun for you than me . . . ."

"Depends on the movie. I could listen, even without description. And I'd enjoy being with you," he said. "Or maybe a concert? Though I don't really know what sort of music you like . . . ."

"Really? There's actually a blank spot in your catalogue of Martin trivia?" he said sarcastically. "Surprised it never came up."

"You only ever used headphones at work," Jon bristled, feeling oddly defensive about it, "and we obviously couldn't bring our devices to the cabin. Too traceable."

"Hmm," there was a teasing smile in Martin's voice. "Don't know if I want to tell, now. Feels like I've got a secret."

"Oh, except . . . there was one song? I don't know the lyrics, but you used to hum it all the time in the cabin."

"What was it called?"

"I didn't actually ask. It sounded nice, though. Maybe we could listen to it together. . . "

"How'd it go, then?"

He hummed the tune from memory. It came easily to mind, connected as it was with images of Martin sipping tea or wiping down a countertop, a bright, easy smile on his face. After a moment, Martin burst out laughing.

"That's -- that's from a soap commercial!"

". . . What?"

"Floors and doors, walls and halls, Liquid Lather cleans them all," he spoke-sang along with the tune. "It was probably just stuck in my head."

Jon frowned, mildly disappointed. "Well. It sounded nice when you were humming it, anyway."

"God. If you want I can serenade you with an insurance advert sometime."

"No thank you."

"Or we could listen to your album from uni," he pushed, the satisfied smile in his voice growing.

"Thankfully we never recorded anything," Jon grinned ruefully, "so that's lost to time."

"Bet you could still sing some of it."

"Try me the next time I'm not expecting to live through the night."

Martin made a displeased sound at that, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry that you always have to come over here," Jon said. "I should probably be making more of an effort to get out of the flat. But it's so much still, even with a guide. I can do it if I have to, but I can't relax."

"C'mon . . . you know I don't mind, and even if I did it wouldn't be something to apologize for. You're going at your own pace."

"Suppose I'm just impatient with myself. It feels absurd, I've walked through a London warped by unfathomable terror, but now ordinary city life is overwhelming. I think I never understood how many people there are on every block until each one became another unpredictable factor to be aware of on my way to the damn corner store," he sighed. "It may be a while before I'm up for anything like a concert."

"It's alright," Martin gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm good at waiting."

For a moment Jon's mind went to a dark, creaking bedroom, air heavy with dust and thick with terror. It's all right. I'm good at waiting. The same phrasing, almost the same tone. Maybe it was to be expected, little parallels like this. Given a person's linguistic habits and enough time it was probably inevitable, but every time something like it happened it floored Jon in the most wonderful way. Some small but meaningful part of the man he loved reflecting and echoing back at him.

If the world didn't end, if he didn't dissolve into spiders or die at the hands of some unfathomable terror, Jon swore someday he'd find the words for how moments like that made him feel. And if he had any courage left in him, he'd tell Martin about it.

"Though, as long as we're talking about that," Martin said, "I've been thinking . . . ."

"In general?" Jon teased.

"Sort of. I've been reading some stuff about adjusting to vision loss? And I know this is fast – well, maybe not fast to you – but it seems to me like it's probably easier, especially at first, if you've got a sighted person staying with you . . ."

He felt himself breathe in sharply, and Martin's words came faster, his tone careful.

"Not - not to do everything for you, of course! I know you can do things yourself. Just to make little things easier, and – you know, that aspect aside it – it might just be nice –"

"Yes," Jon said decisively.

"Because it isn't really just the vision thing – I mean, it's alright if you do need help but it's also alright if you don't – but there's other reasons – "

"My answer is yes."

A faint laugh came out of Martin and he slapped Jon's chest lightly. "Stop agreeing and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"I'm not suggesting moving in. That would be too fast, at least for me," he said. "I'd want to keep my own place, and I'd probably still spend some time there."

"Of course," Jon nodded solemnly. "Perfectly reasonable to want some space of your own."

"Yeah. But if it works for you, I thought I might get a bag together, y'know, just sort of stay for a while? I – hell, I wouldn't, uh, mind the excuse to cook more dinners with you? And I slept better than I had in a while the night I stayed over here."

"So did I."

"I just think it might be nice. If you think so too, of course."

There was a pause as Jon waited, not sure if Martin had more to say. After the silence had dragged on for a while, he spoke up. "Am I allowed to say yes now?"

Martin laughed, nodding against Jon's chest.

"Then yes. I'd be very happy to have you stay here with me."

"Cool. Cool . . . " Martin exhaled. " . . . I love you."

"And I love you."

"More than I'll ever know?"

There was a teasing smile in Martin as he echoed the words Jon had said to him back in the tunnel. Jon was quiet for a moment.

He'd meant those words when he'd said them. It hadn't been a romantic turn of phrase. He'd confessed his feelings in that moment with the understanding that Martin would never be able to see how deep they ran. That he could tell Martin he loved him, but he'd never be able to show him that. He wouldn't have the chance. He found Martin's cheek with a hand, turned his face towards him, then bent down and kissed him, once.

"No," he said. "Not if I can help it."

[halinski]

Red Light, Green Light

I lost the original ask when I tried to post the other day but thankfully I had this saved! Thank you to the anon who sent this!! It was a great challenge and obviously it took me a long while (so I hope you’re still around!) but I’m actually quite happy with it :D I might finally be gaining some confidence with writing hehe lots of thanks to @kcfriedchicken​ for always putting up with me and cheering me on, and also to @livinginfictions​ for the thorough beta!! <3

[Read on AO3]

Derek blinked lazily at the clock on Stiles' desk, wishing he could close his eyes and keep dozing, pretend he hadn't seen how late it was getting because that meant putting an end to this. But...an alpha missing out or being late to his own pack meeting would not do. Especially if he popped up around the same time as Stiles, both of them smelling distinctly of each other.

No. This...whatever it was—well, relationship, yes, in a way—it was just theirs for now. Stiles’ and his. They hadn't put a name to it, mostly because Derek feared to bestow a cursed title upon Stiles. Connections like this generally ended badly. But this was something that was just theirs, safe and secure behind four walls, or car doors. For now.

Another minute ticked by, striking Derek's ears, drawing attention to the impatient little black hands, swinging further on and on, tempting Derek to dig his claws into the plastic and tear it apart, as if that would eradicate the concept of time so that he could continue to lie here with Stiles on his shoulder. If that was all his life consisted of from this day forward, Derek wouldn't mind. He'd always seen himself bleeding to death at the hands of an enemy, enduring inexplicable pain but now... 

He could spend eternity here in Stiles' room, on his tiny bed, and not be bothered at all, or alternatively, and more realistically, die happy on the spot in a good way.

He was half tempted to go public with their...relationship but it also made the fear of vulnerability stir inside his chest. It was one thing to have Stiles see his cracks and edges: to let him soothe them like balm in privacy, but revealing this thing with Stiles would mean letting the rest of the world know about his weakness. He knew the pack didn't mean him any harm, and yet...

Derek was working on giving the softness inside him space. It was a work in progress.

He sighed, another tick and tock of a minute having gone by, the planned event creeping closer. Stiles snuffled against Derek's shoulder at the sound, rubbing his scent into the worn grey shirt. His arm re-adjusted around Derek's torso.

"If you keep up with that all my shirts are gonna be shoulder free - but only on the right side," Derek said, amused and hell, proud even, at how quickly so many wolf-like behaviors had grown on Stiles; faster than anyone else in the pack, when he wasn't even a wolf. It spoke volumes of Stiles' understanding. Sure, he had been tactile from the start, searching for contact, and Derek had seen the hugs and shoulder pats he shared with his dad but this...it just felt right.

Derek was glad the human's eyes were closed because the smirk he was wearing may have been closer to a smile, and he didn't dare encourage Stiles’ ideas further. If he gave his cheesy thoughts too much room he would ruin their balanced give and take. They both found a necessary challenge in the other. Derek couldn't just surrender.

"You can buy new ones," Stiles mumbled, not caring to lift his head even the slightest bit. "Shit, it's not like you're poor. Don't be stingy. Let a guy enjoy himself."

Derek let out a light snort. "You've enjoyed yourself plenty. It's time we get ready."

Stiles just whined, slightly high pitched and grating, but a wordless communication Derek appreciated, if only for the fact that Stiles didn't necessarily need his words around him anymore. When he didn't want to, which...wasn't very often.

"Come on, let's go," Derek said, giving Stiles' a vigorous little back rub to try and get his system going, after which he managed to pull him up into a sitting position with him.

"This sucks. I'm going to excommunicate from the pack. Both you and me so we never have to deal with any responsibilities ever again," Stiles said, blinking unhappily into the room.

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his back. "And then I'll whisk you away and we'll live in a cave like real wolf-men for the rest of our lives," he quipped.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "This is why I'm dating you."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You only want me because I'm a werewolf." Derek let out a put upon sigh after slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. Stiles joined him then, taking hold of Derek by wrapping his fist in the hem of his shirt.

"Come here, hot wolf-man," Stiles mock-growled, pulling him in. Derek went along easily, lips finding Stiles' blindly and letting himself sink into the warmth. Stiles' hand stroked over his cheek with the tenderness of a sunlit daisy.

God, Derek was a goner.

Derek gently nudged Stiles back, righting his head. Stiles followed his movement with a subtle lick across his lips, pupils all wide and open, as if he had a whole world in there for Derek alone to make his home in. But he couldn't let himself get distracted by Stiles again. 

"I'll race you," he blurted out to shake himself out of this delirious high. A challenge: one of the strongest motivators for Stiles. On cue, Derek watched the spark ignite in his eyes.

"I'm listening." Stiles smiled at him defiantly.

"I bet I can make it home, shower and be ready before you are."

"On foot? No way! I'm so going to win this."

"Oh yeah?"

"You're a goner, Hale."  Stiles was right about that on one count.

Derek met his gaze with equal glee. He held the moment just for a second longer, fingertips brushing against Stiles' nape. Stiles' pulse jumped beneath his thumb and Derek couldn't put the feelings in his chest into words, nor actions. The most he was capable of was resting his forehead against Stiles', just breathing him in.

Resisting the tangible temptation to give in to Stiles once more, Derek merely parted his lips to whisper, "Go!"

He ripped himself from the human and fled, holding fast to his next objective.

"Hey!" Stiles objected after a heartbeat, but Derek was already out the window.

--------

Stiles screeched into the parking lot, foot on the break and hands pulling the steering wheel for a sharp left. He skidded to a halt next to the familiar figures at the entrance to Derek’s building - he still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had bought a whole building just to maintain his social isolation. Then again, having to listen to your neighbors do literally everything couldn’t be great. It would drive anyone insane. Stiles yanked the emergency break as he parked and left the car running, jumping out in one smooth move.

Isaac could shut it, he was totally smooth.

“You asshole!” Stiles ranted, pointing at Derek in frustration. “You cheated.” 

Derek did nothing but smile smugly, eyebrows openly laughing at Stiles.

“I don’t cheat,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest, now wearing a nice bright blue shirt. There was a light, earthy cologne crawling up Stiles' nose as he stood in front of this man of brawn. Stiles knew intimately how solid and strong Derek was beneath that sturdy dark blue top but instead of indulging said train of thought he had to expel it. The pack was probably used to his hormonal responses to Derek but he was supposed to be growing out of that phase.

Thank goodness for strong deodorant, Stiles thought,watching Derek's nostrils flare. He breathed in relief at the small nod that deemed him clean enough. Any lingering scents of each other scrubbed away,  and  a change of clothes. Dating a werewolf on the down low among other werewolves was a pain in the ass. Especially when assholes like Jackson would sneer and complain about the "ghastly stink" of artificial scents only when it came to Stiles. Naturally, he didn’t dare talk smack about Derek in his presence. 

"There's no way. You absolutely cheated," Stiles insisted and jabbed at those abs, just under Derek's elbow, where he knew he was ticklish. Then he bit his tongue lest he let anything incriminating slip and whirled around, grinning to himself at the quiet wheeze behind him.

"You done?” Lydia asked with an audible eye roll. How was it that all of Stiles’ favorite people had perfected that movement? 

“Yup!” Stiles declared, making a beeline for Erica to hook his arm into hers. Erica was bound to try to interrogate him about what kind of cheating Derek had done but Stiles was a sheriff’s son, and he had all his evasive techniques down. Of course, Erica had her own theories about him and the alpha, which may or may not have resulted in him confessing to her about his crush. Despite not being able to tell her about any of the developments, he found comfort in the fact that he could be sure she was rooting for them. “C’mon, bestie. Let’s go!”

Stiles didn’t miss the grin Erica sent Derek’s way before they turned and headed up into the loft, making a pit stop at the still running Jeep. The rest of the pack slowly shuffled after them. 

--------

Somehow... no matter how organized Derek tried to be before a pack meeting or how sternly he glared and attempted to keep the pack in line, pack meetings always resulted in chaos and headaches. Right now, there was a discussion going on about cats and full moons that weren’t based on any scientific (or supernatural) evidence and Derek couldn't even recall when the conversation shifted.

Even Stiles was getting tired at this point, rubbing his forehead vigorously as he hung over the laptop. Derek hadn't heard him typing for the past 15 minutes and it hadn’t been long after that Stiles had stopped sending sullen looks his way and started stubbornly picking at the permanent stain on the table.

"Okay, let's wrap this up and get something to eat before I start tearing out throats," Derek sighed.

Stiles' laptop snapped shut before Derek finished the sentence.

Boyd smirked. "We haven't heard that one in a while," he commented.

"So, we're done, right?" Lydia declared, already packing up her things and slipping her shoes back on.

"We're done when I say I'm done," Derek said. "Any other questions left?"

Erica raised her arm from her lounged position. 

"Yes."

"Are we done?" she asked, without as much a hint of amusement, and Derek was. Derek was 100 percent done trying to deal with these teenagers. 

He gave her a long blank stare. Just to prove how much he meant it, before he turned from where he had been pacing and pointed at Stiles.

"Patty's. You're driving."

Then he marched upstairs to his private bathroom, just to buy himself some alone time, hanging out the tiny window and staring out at the tree tops. 

He loved his pack, he did. Sometimes it was all a bit much and he needed to breathe, though. He'd been the same even as a kid.

He waited until everyone had made their way into the stairwell before taking a deep breath and following. A small part of him was hoping Stiles would linger behind so they could have a moment but he quickly buried that thought with logic. They would be heard and how could he even already miss Stiles when they had just spent hours together?

Grabbing his jacket, wallet in the pocket, he pulled the door shut and ambled down the stairs. He didn't bother locking it. There was nothing to protect, and Derek made sure to chase off any stupid teens who wanted to screw around and vandalize the place. Any supernaturals wouldn't be bothered by a lock anyway.

The only exception was, of course, when Stiles was around.

Of course, the kids weren't even close to figuring out a seating order by the time he joined them. What did Derek even expect?

But upon approaching the Jeep, he found one seat occupied. The passenger seat. Derek stopped short. 

"Erica." Because of course. 

Her curls bounced as the young women turned to look and flash a grin at him. 

"Derek, hi! Would you look at that, we're matching," she said, shimmying in her own leather jacket, just as black as his, but newer and shinier. Derek wouldn't really say they matched, because Erica was a fashion statement in herself, a force of her own, and Derek was just…wearing a memento because it was comfortable. Whatever.

Derek crossed his arms.

Stiles came over to his side, leaning on him and in toward Erica. Stiles let his fingers tap lightly against Derek's pec. Thank God Stiles had always been reckless with physical contact and there was no sudden change in intimacy that could cause suspicion. Derek just had to make sure he didn't preen too much.

"Eyebrows basically mirrored, matching, with only a slight degree of tilt, I would say maybe like a good… 19%. And then we have a non-flared nose but alert ears and oh, dare I say… that freshly trimmed stubble really drives the point home,which is…Erica, I think you better move," Stiles warned, voice lifting from dramatic broadcaster to a cartoonist sing-song tune.

Derek chose not to acknowledge Stiles, because encouragement would surely only escalate this situation. Either in the manner of Stiles' antics, or instead with the fondness trying to bloom in Derek's chest.

Erica only proceeded to lean further into her seat, eyes flickering between the two of them with a certain glint.

"And why's that?" she challenged.

"Because I say so," Derek muttered.

"And he's the alpha," Stiles finished for him, straightening with pride. 

Erica gazed back between the two of them, lips pursuing with evident consideration of pushing further. Then she sighed.

"You know it's really not fair when you gang up on me," she said, but a smile still snuck its way onto her face. She turned towards the middle console and hiked herself up to clamber into the back. Halfway there, she stuck her hands out and called for Boyd's assistance, who gave a small shake of his head but quickly came to his girlfriend's aid. 

Derek bit back a comment while Stiles laughed at his side, and then detached himself from him. Before Stiles left to go grab his own seat, he left a gentle pat on Derek's back.

--------

Two and a half hours, 12 burgers, 7 large fries (4 regular and 3 curly), 2 cartons of onion rings, some chicken, multiple stacks of pancakes, 4 waffles, 8 milkshakes, and a juicy mixed berry pie  later, they were back in the cars, making the 20 minute drive to Beacon Hills. Sure, there were plenty of places to eat in town but after discovering Patty’s diner one early morning while dealing with some kind of manticore-like creature nearby, they had deemed this the best reasonably close diner. Now, it was a regular thing.

Jackson led the way in his Porsche, of course, with Lydia right at his side and Scott and Allison in the back, while Jeep tailed them with Stiles at the wheel. Erica was splayed out in the backseat with her head resting in Boyd’s lap, quietly humming along to the radio. Isaac was smooshed over on the other side and yet still somehow found a way to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder and close his eyes. 

Hungers sated, stress digested and drama enacted all through dinner, everything was starting to slowly settle. Even Derek's restless soul found sanctuary in the familiar scents of his pack and the rhythm of Stiles' fingers against the wheel as they corresponded with his heartbeat. Derek allowed himself to find comfort, sinking further into the seat and stretching his arm casually out to rest on the back of Stiles' seat. 

He watched Stiles' eyes flicker his way but halt and return to take in the sight in the rear view mirror. A small smile tugged at his lips and Stiles hummed along with Erica as if the swell of affection radiating from him was not at all related to Derek's action.

Derek followed his gaze back out to the street in front before he could get lost in retracing the slope of Stiles' nose and the starry path of moles down his cheek. The Porsche was growing ever smaller, occasionally disappearing from view entirely.

"You're going to lose them," Derek remarked. Not that it really mattered; everything still felt safe enough. As safe as it could, that was.

"If Jackson wants to flash his bougie car as some sort of compensation even  though he didn't even buy it himself, he can be my guest. I'm not pushing my darling today," Stiles said, making a show of stroking the wheel. He smirked. "Unless you want to pay for a full on “Pimp My Car” session?"

Derek snorted. "In your dreams."

"One day. Just you wait. You'll see."

"Upgrading anything about this—this—" Derek reconsidered calling Roscoe a piece of crap whenStiles threw him a warning glare, "—hunk of metal…would cost more than buying a brand new SUV, including A/C and all the good stuff."

"You know, if you give me that in cash, I could totally start saving up for that upgrade." Stiles gave him an impish little smile.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Hale. Fork over the cash," Stiles sang, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together. "Otherwise I might have to start charging by the mile, along with a service fee."

Which Derek had absolutely offered Stiles before. Well, not payment by the mile but he had happily suggested taking care of all charges for the usage and maintenance of the Jeep. He had repeatedly insisted and it was Stiles who, more often than not, refused. 

"I think we might have to switch over to transport by taxi. That'll be cheaper as well as a smoother ride,"  Derek countered.

"What are you, 50? Have you ever heard of Uber? It's what all the—"

"Eyes on the road, Stiles."

"I am paying attention. Jeez, relax."

"And both hands on the wheel."

"Stop acting like my dad—"

"Oh my God, Stiles. I am not that old. Stop comparing me to your dad, of all people."

"Then stop acting like it. You're out here lecturing me like I don't always get you right where you need to be. With special bodyguard services, if I may add, which you will never get from any carpooling service." 

Derek shook his head at the smug smile on his mate's face. There was time for sweet praises to be whispered into burning ears from within warm embraces in bed later. For now, he just preened at the familiarity of the interaction. Nothing like some good old bickering to help digest a feast.

"It's red." Derek pointed out to the street light ahead.

"I have eyes," Stiles said, easing down on the brake a little harder. The Jeep eventually rolled to a stop before the empty intersection, the hanging mist seeping from the tall dark trees radiating a gleaming red.

Derek loved it when the world made it seem like time stood still.

Stiles turned to him.

"Red light," Stiles proclaimed, voice suddenly open and unguarded. It was like the silvery shine to full moon nights when they encased Derek in protection. He reacted to the words on instinct, habit pulling him forward. Derek leaned in without hesitation.

Letting his lips meet Stiles' didn't require any guidance. He'd probably find his way home to Stiles' soft touch blindfolded from the opposite side of the world. Kissing Stiles was sweet like honey and warm like a fireplace in the dead of a Siberian winter.

It wasn't a peck, definitely a longer interaction, but it was still soft and sweet. They were encapsulated in their own little world until they finally parted. Derek found those beautiful amber eyes and smiled.

"Green light," he said softly, having registered the quiet click and the now lightened fog outside.

Stiles breathed out between parted lips, a corner of them hiking up. He was just about to shift the car into motion when—

"What the ever loving fuck was that?!" Erica burst between them with a shout, nails digging into their sleeves. "What? I mean, this! You kissed!"

Stiles brought his foot down on the brake again hard, but he forgot the clutch and killed the engine instantly. He'd let out his own shout that fell quiet as the car came to a rocking stop.

Derek winced at the volume before he could register what was going on and then… froze. 

"Erica! What the hell," Stiles breathed out, throwing his hands up to his hair. His discomfort couldn't solely be attributed to the surprise from the backseat, Derek figured, chancing a look over to see the blush climbing up Stiles' face. Derek knew all too well how it started; with the pink gleam budding just beneath his collarbone before it expanded like smattering star dust all the way up his neck that found its heart in his cheeks. Right where Derek found the source of his happiness when they tugged up and bunched around Stiles' smile.

"No." Erica shook her head. "Not me. What is going on right here?" She tugged at their arms. "When did this start? How long has it been going on?"

"And how in hell did you manage to keep this a secret, Stilinski?" Isaac threw in, his head popping up beside the bouncy curls.

Stiles looked over at Derek cautiously. His heart was clearly doing double time and well, so was Derek's. They had always avoided discussing the possibility of an involuntary reveal so, honestly, it served them right. Derek should've known the universe would have a trick up its sleeve as soon as he relaxed.

But…this wasn't necessarily something bad. He was pretty sure that the pack wouldn't mind about this development. Chances were, it would bring them all closer together. Somehow.

Still, doubts remained. Fear crept through him on spindly legs, ready to strike with its black widow fangs at any moment. There was so much that could go wrong. So much-

There was a deep intake of breath from beside him. 

"It's not what you think," Stiles said then.

"Oh, so Derek wasn't just shoving his tongue down your throat?" Erica hummed, and she leaned forward to place her chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"There was no tongue involved!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing up an arm.

"There was a kiss though," Boyd intercepted.

Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror. "You too? Betrayal."

"I am pretty curious about this," he replied, gazing over at Derek as best as he could past Erica's and Isaac's heads.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. "It was just…a game! It was—it was just a game."

"A game?" Erica had nearly perfected the signature Hale eyebrow lift. 

Stiles was not fully successful at covering up his jealousy. 

Nor the shame and upset at having to play the incident off. Derek wasn't having it.

"Yes, a game. The red light game. You spend hours on your phone. How have you not—" Stiles started.

"No," Derek interrupted. There was a quiet hitched breath as all heads turned to stare at the Alpha. He tried to remain calm, and turned to look at his mate.

"It's not just a game. It is our game but we're also dating." Derek swallowed, keeping his breath and words steady. "He's my boyfriend."

Erica's squeal almost drowned out Stiles' beaming joy, but all Derek could see was Stiles; and the unfiltered, sunshine-bright love shining off his exhilarated face. There was surprise there, and some hesitance, but it was overrun by excitement.

"I fucking knew it!" Erica laughed loudly, smacking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and quickly infecting him with her laughter.

It wasn't long before most of the car had joined in, searching for touch all around. Derek felt both pats on his shoulders as well as a grip near his neck, grounding him to pack amidst all the congratulations. It seemed funny now, worrying about the reception of this news. Derek ducked his head to hide his burning eyes.

Relief, happiness—he wasn't even sure what to feel first, but he almost felt like he didn't need to name it. All he had to do was let himself feel it for now. Stiles put his hand over his, squeezing it lightly. Derek took it.

"Wait, so this is why we found you two cooking together that one time!" 

Derek smiled, looking up to the road ahead with a lighter soul.

[cyndalyssa]

Name: Rosella Macawber

Age: She’s about five years younger than Morgana; heavily depends on how you think supernatural beings age

Gender: Female

Species: Monster/Fae Duck

Occupation: Waitress (and occasional gardener/landscaper) at Shadow Chateau, Superheroine in Training

Super powers: Earth Magic (Geokinesis, Animation of Stone, Petrification, basically any spell that involves dirt, stone, minerals, etc.)

Weaknesses:

Silver 

Cast/Wrought Iron (typically manifesting as allergies, though they also weaken her magic), 

Water (erodes at her strength until she can barely move, she also can’t swim and sinks like a rock; however, she can drink it just fine, she’d just rather not take a dip in it)

Appearance: 

Tiny twig of a woman with a terrible case of baby face. 

Brown feathers, prehensile green hair done in a single braid (typically behaves like tentacles when unbraided) with a hot pink daisy at the base, rose pink eyes (which can turn red when she’s in attack mode). 

Teeth are selectively sharp and claws are retractable (usually borne when she’s angry).  

Typically wears a green sleeveless tunic, brown capelet with a hot pink rose pin, string belt holding a tan magic pouch to her left hip, brown leggings and darker brown flat shoes.

Personality: Optimistic, excitable, curious, and friendly; quite independent, but also lonely to the point of stir craziness; tends to be stubborn, prideful, and a little fiery, especially when she feels her identity as a person is threatened.

Relationships:

Morgana Macawber (cousin, big sister figure)

Tuffy (her cat made out of rocks; BFF)

Mattias Macawber (father, lukewarm relationship)

Undine Macawber (eldest quadruplet sister, hostile relationship)

Ashmay and Zephra Macawber (other two older quadruplet sisters, lukewarm relationship)

Darkwing Duck (ally, mutual annoyance but begrudging respect)

Launchpad McQuack (friend, usually the one to educate her on Normal stuff)

Gosalyn Mallard (odd friendship where they’re kinda kindred spirits but with opposite tastes; occasionally Rosie babysits her and it’s wild)

Liquidator (enemy, will absolutely NOPE out of Dodge upon seeing him)

Quackerjack (enemy, there’s a stupid mutual grudge between them)

Bushroot (some kind of weird complicated friendship despite being on different sides)

Biography:

Once upon a time, Mattias Macawber went traveling for a few years, only to return to Transylvania with four eggs that he quietly admitted were his, and that the woman he produced them with was dead. He spoke little more of the matter, despite everyone’s curiosity, and just sought to raise the children like any other monster.

Rosella was the last of the girls to hatch, and at first, she seemed like a regular monster, looking like she’d be a witch with animated hair. However, as she grew older, it became clear that she just couldn’t fit in. No interest in their macabre society, no desire to be scary or gross, and no magic ability save for manipulating dirt and pebbles. It grew worse when upon stumbling into Normal territory, she discovered their colorful flora (a far cry from the deadly and scary plants monsters grow), among other things, and immediately took a liking to it. She was already bullied by the other monsters for being weak; having adopted a cute and colorful persona, she was now tormented for being the odd duck of not just the esteemed Macawber Family, but all of monster society.

By the time she was an adult, she was shoved to the outskirts of monster society, and often even excluded from her own family—her only friend was a cat (named Tuffy) she made out of rocks and endowed some of her life force into. Not many visitors came her way, and when they did, it’s usually just to grab something from her magic stone/crystal/sand collection and run before she can offer them tea. So, her life was full of loneliness, filling time with gardening, making artisan crafts, and practicing her earth magic—it was enough to make her a bit stir crazy. Still, as much as she yearned for acceptance, she held a stubborn pride in who she is.

Things started to change when her cousin Morgana sought her help in landscaping around her restaurant, the Shadow Chateau. It was initially meant to be a temporary affair, and they’d part ways after the work was done.  But, things took a turn when the fairy bounty hunter/hitwoman Goldenrod captured the Macawbers at the restaurant--save Rosie, who was ditched by the other members of the family and left to figure out which magic door at the castle led to the manor in St. Canard. She helped Darkwing Duck and co. rescue them, and then angrily chewed out her kin for leaving her behind and overall treating her like dirt. 

Realizing that Rosella was unhappy with her life, Morgana felt pity for her, and offered her a job and a change of scenery. Despite said job being a waitress for the restaurant—involving being dressed to match an aesthetic she cares little for—Rosie ecstatically accepted (albeit with the condition that they transport her garden to a new plot of land, so that no vandals destroy her hard work when she’s gone), seeing it as an opportunity for a fresh start in this strange land of St. Canard.

This fresh start would involve the insanity of superheroes and supervillains, supernatural forces following her and Morg to the city, aliens, spies, mutants, and more… but hey, her life’s more interesting, and she’s starting to make friends.

Open to RP: If anyone cares.

Random facts:

Her mother is a faerie, and only two know (her father and a local doctor (who was confirming the girls’ relation to him, given that he just randomly showed up with eggs; Mattias paid him to keep quiet about their other half)). 

However, everyone else does sense something off about Rosie (and her sisters, but she sticks out), enough to theorize that she’s actually a faerie changeling (well, they’re kinda close?). Some of Rosie’s peers had even taken to calling her “fairy princess”, which infuriates her.

She has a scarily extensive knowledge of geology—after all, if you had the power to command the earth, wouldn’t you want to better understand your element? She has a rock collection to boot. 

She’s an avid homesteader, given that she’s been taking care of herself for years with various home skills like gardening, cooking, textile work, etc. As interesting as St. Canard is, living in the city gets her a little on edge, and she hopes to someday live independently in the country like she did before (that said, she doesn’t want to go back to a friendless life and would love visits). 

Whatever you do, do not threaten her garden. She will throw boulders at or sic golems on you at best. At worst... let’s not think about it. 

Though she has a distaste for the spooky, gross, and freaky things that are mainstream in monster culture, she ain’t gonna complain about the food--she actually enjoys it, her faves being the bug dishes. Otherwise, with Normal food, she has a ravenous sweet tooth, dislikes salty foods, and everything else ranges from okay to pretty good. 

Character created by and belongs to @cyndalyssa​

Bio Template nicked from @duckverseoc​

[beginagainhq]

Across New York, a newfound peace falls upon the city. October exits with the setting sun and, with it, the chaos dissipates. To anyone paying attention, these things do not happen all at once. It is a slow moving process, and it happens bit by bit.

The animals are first. It should come as no surprise, perhaps, that one who chooses her words carefully was able to convince New York’s animal population to do the same. Using her remarkable intelligence and her uncanny ability to read those around her, be they human or something more feline in variety, CASSANDRA CAIN committed to a city-wide survey, allowing those who were normally forced to remain silent have their moment in the sun, and more specifically, a chance to air their grievances. Rats complaining about living conditions, pigeons wanting birdhouses on street corners, the continued preservation of Central Park as a haven for squirrels; all of these issues were taken into account and set in motion by Cassandra. When the magic started to wear off, the animals didn’t fight back against the return to normality, satisfied that they’d been heard — many for the first time ever.

With silence comes an ability to think more clearly. No longer having thoughts interrupted at every turn by his wife’s talkative rabbits or the alley rats’ insistent chatter, TONY STARK found it simple to construct a device that was able to reapply gravity to the city’s broomsticks in one fell swoop, just as soon as Iron Man dispensed it into the atmosphere. Luckily for any occupants still in the air, this application was a slow process, with brooms landing safely on solid ground.

A skilled magician in her own right, ILLYANA RASPUTINA was able to find a spell to turn Halloween decorations back into inanimate objects, ending the string of petty thefts with pumpkin perpetrators. Incredibly, the spell was derived from a children’s fairy tale, in which pumpkins were turned to carriages for a night and reverted back to themselves as the clock struck twelve. It was at the same echoing chime that the pumpkins and other decor made its way back from sentience throughout New York and its surrounding areas.

Perhaps one of the few people in the city with no one to haunt him, MIGUEL O’HARA found it simpler than most to search for a way to rid the world of the benevolent ghosts reacquainting themselves with their loved ones. He did not share his plans to return the dead to their graves, well aware that he would likely be stopped by a mourner desperate to keep their spirits at their side. With the help of his futuristic friend Lyla, Miguel uncovered a frequency at which the ghosts appeared to be operating. Using his scientific knowledge to develop a formula, Miguel contacted DAISY JOHNSON to achieve the rest. Daisy utilized her vibration abilities to match the frequency, restoring the veil between the living and the dead and sending the ghosts of the past back to rest.

Thanks to ZATANNA ZATARA’S newly acquired knowledge to the cause of the chaos, the rest of the magic died down little by little once the biggest problems were solved. Slowly, the world went back to what it was, shifted from supernatural back into the commonality its people had known all their lives. At the end of the day, no real harm was done in spite of the chaos. If nothing else, New York was treated to a truly unforgettable Halloween.

The Halloween event has now ended! Thank you to everyone who participated, and we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did!

[evanaaml]

Trick or Treat

A little one-shot for #MistyAppreciationDay that I cooked up. Figured, with the holiday closing in, I ought to make it Halloween-themed. Hope you enjoy!

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

"Ok, I think just a few more should do it, what do you think, Azurill?"

"Azu! Zu!"

Misty giggled at her little baby Pokémon as it bounced over the kitchen floor to the little table and grabbed some clementines with its tail.

Halloween was here, and at the Cerulean Gym, Misty, (with her sisters), were put in charge of hosting this year's holiday party. Every year, the Kanto Gym Leaders would take turns hosting holiday events for the league, and more importantly, the people of Kanto. The leaders would often alternate which gym would host which holiday, (with a few exceptions; Lt. Surge insisted on hosting Kanto Independence Day), and this year, the Sensational Sisters were placed in charge of Halloween.

Misty's sisters, Daisy, Lily, and Violet, preferred to host a summer event, (and Misty could hardly blame them, a part of her did, too), but they didn't complain. Any chance to dress up and socialize was a win for them.

For Misty, it was the new norm.

When she was younger, and her sisters were in charge, the league kept them out of these events. They knew they were young and inexperienced. And Misty was naive, she was traveling, looking to become a water Pokémon master, she didn't think of hosting parties or charities. She thought the gym life was just battling trainer after trainer; she thought nothing of the rules or politics that went with it.

But now that she was the primary leader, things like this were her new life. Battles, as it turns out, were a small part of the gym leader life. She had to work with the league, do a lot of paperwork, keep up-to-date on the healthcare of her Pokémon and her employees, and do plenty of personal appearances for Cerulean City.

But despite it all, the stress and the pressure and the busy lifestyle...she loved it. While it wasn't entirely what she expected when she took over the gym all those years ago, she knew that it would be difficult. And she took that challenge with her head held high. She didn't want it to be easy, she wouldn't have taken the position if she thought it would be. It would just prove to herself that she was up to the task if it worked out. And so far, it had.

Still, a little warning would have been nice.

At the moment, Misty was making snacks for the guests. Her cooking skills, while coming a long way since her childhood days on the road, were still...not up to par for mixed company.

Of course, she wouldn't admit that; of course not.

Instead, she opted to put together food already made. In this case, she was placing tiny celery stalks into clementines for a healthy pumpkin-looking treat. Her cooking may not be the best, but her craftsmanship was impressive.

Azurill hopped back to the table and with a mighty bounce, landed on top to place the clementines down. The green paper gently tied around its tail rustled. Azurill was painted (with Pokemon-friendly paint!), a dark green, and with "leaves" on its tail, made itself to be an Oddish. Misty couldn't help but smile every time she saw her adorable Pokémon in its costume.

As for her, Misty opted to go a bit more mythical. She wore a light blue and white body suit and had wired-lined white ribbon around her waist that stuck out around her body; as if flowing in waves. Attached to the back of her neck was a large hood with a light blue headpiece and long, purple hair. At the moment, it was down, but if she flipped it up, it'd stick up just above her head.

She always felt an attachment to Suicune, the Aurora Pokémon. This was of course no surprise, she felt an attachment to all Water-Pokémon. Certain ones, however, had an aura about them to that she could not help but feel drawn to in more ways than just admiration. Suicune was mist personified.

"How they comin'?" someone asked from outside the kitchen.

"Almost done!", Misty replied.

"Alright, I'm gonna show you my costume; prepared to be, like, mind-blown!" the person stated. Misty shook her head in exasperation, but giggled all the same.

"I'm waiting on baited breath", Misty replied sarcastically. Within moments, Daisy entered the room. Like Misty, she wore a body suit, but it was a much darker blue with light blue bands going down the side and around her waist and chest. She had large fins on her back that looked more like elegant Butterfree wings outside of the water. She had two sets of much smaller fins on her side and abdomen. In her hand was what looked like a flat, black baton with a pink dot on it.

"TADA! What do you think?", Daisy asked, striking a pose with one hand in the air and the other on her hip.

"A Lumineon, fitting! A shame they aren't in Kanto waters, having one in the gym would be amazing", Misty said dreamily. She imagined the glowing aura Pokémon swimming through the pool at night, its glow lighting up the water and making the pool seem almost supernatural.

"Like, don't go off daydreaming again, we need the snacks finished soon! Some guests are already here, and the doors open to the public in an hour", Daisy scolded lightly.

"Yeah, yeah", Misty said, waving her off. Misty wasn't interested in impressing the League's big-wigs, they rarely left their offices for these events anyway; instead opting to sends notices reminding her to "Keep up the standards of the Kanto Pokémon League, esq.".

Yawn.

And she wasn't concerned about making an impression with the gym leaders. Through her journey as a child, she got to know them all on a personal level. Through her new position, that level of friendship only increased; she became tight with all of them. Erika and her hung out on the regular, Misty was the first person who Sabrina opened up to, and whom she was now the closest with, Blaine continued to this day to send her riddles for her to solve, (which she never failed to do), and she became a sort of mentor to Forrest; Brock's younger brother, and the gym leader of Pewter City, (when his brother was away for studies).

Her biggest concerns came from the citizens of the city. Namely, the kids. Since becoming the gym leader, she became a role model for the kids of the city. She would host events at the gym, speak in classrooms, run charities, and of course battle any locals who wanted to test their metal before officially joining the League challenge. They were the ones she wanted to impress, to put a smile on their faces. This was for them.

She began peeling the clementines that Azurill handed her. "I have to say though, Daisy, as beautiful as the costume is, I thought you'd do a little more for the party", Misty stated. Her sisters were known for going all out for all their outfits; regardless of occasion. And while her older sister's costume was well made, it didn't seem to have that "over the top" feature that they were known for. Daisy winked.

"Oh, just watch", Daisy replied. Misty looked on as Daisy reached over to one of the fins on her side. She slid a tiny lever up, and within moments, the blue bands along her body and fins lit up in a fluorescent glow. "Like the Sensational Sisters wouldn't try to be the stars of the evening".

...Ok, she was impressed.

"Wow! That's amazing, Daisy!", Misty said.

"I know, right?", Daisy replied. She walked over towards the table to pick up a platter of the finished treats. "You know, if you weren't so stingy, we were going to add lights to your outfit, too".

"I didn't know you were going to do that, I just wanted to add my own part to the costume is all. I didn't want you three to do all the work for my own costume", Misty replied. Her stubbornness never left her. She knew her sisters were more talented at crafts like costumes than she was, but she didn't have it in her to let them do it all on their own, even if they were happy to. She had to help.

"Well, the ribbons did come out nice, so, I guess you got some of our talent after all", Daisy said. Misty glared daggers at her older sister. Did she really not think about what she said before saying it?

But she let it slide. Since her sisters returned from their trip, and she was put in charge of the gym, they had all made great strides in becoming more of a family. They had their fights and spats, but Misty felt that they were the kind of disagreements that siblings had.

So then the others have similar costumes?", Misty asked.

"You bet!", someone called out. Daisy turned around and Misty glanced over to see Lily and Violet approaching them. Violet stepped into the kitchen, walking sideways through the doorway to fit in. She had several tentacles attached to her waist from a subtle belt. Some tentacles dangled from the belt and hung just above the ground, while others had some sort of support that allowed them to stick out a small ways from her body. Two tentacles were attached to small sticks, which she held in her hand to raise and move like the real thing. She wore brown leggings and a bell-shaped costume with two large glowing plastic orbs on her shoulders, with a smaller glowing one attached to her head via a tiara. She also had a long, jagged stinger, which she currently had just dangling around her neck.

"Awww! Tentacruel! How beautiful!", Misty said.

"Well, I dunno about beautiful, but it sure is illuminating!" Violet replied, lifting two of the tentacles up in a pose with a smile. Misty was insulted at Violet's blatant disregard for one of the most beautiful sea Pokémon.

"What are you, Lily?", Misty asked, ignoring Violet for her crime...for now.

"TOO BIG TO FIT INTO THE ROOM!", Lily whined. The sisters sighed.

Lily had a large shell that hung from her waist and raised up over her head, and a pink sphere around her chest, with black leggings to finish the attire. Around her body within the shell, she had white orbs that glowed similar to her sisters. The shell was too tall and too wide to fit her through the door frame.

"It's just the shell, Lily, like, no one's gonna think you're fat", Violet stated, knowing full-well what she was worried about.

"The costume came out amazing...BUT AT WHAT COST!?", Lily asked out loud.

"The costume looks great, Lily! What did you use to keep it light and bulky like that?", Misty asked.

"DON'T SAY BULKY!", Lily replied in disgust. Violet groaned.

"EVA foam. It's in all of our outfits, including yours", Daisy answered, ignoring Lily's outburst. She used the tail in her hand to point to Misty's hood.

"Oh, really? I just thought it was cardboard", Misty replied, lifting the hood up over her head.

"As if! Like cardboard would be able to keep that form!", Daisy replied. Misty sighed. Her sisters were experts at costumes from all the ballets they put on; they really knew which materials to use and how to make them stand out. If their jobs at the gym didn't work out, Misty thought they could make a career as professional cosplayers.

"Not gonna lie, sis, I'm a little bummed that you didn't go with Lugia for your costume. I mean, like, you SAW it and everything!", Violet exclaimed, recalling her sister's incident in the Orange Islands.

"Lugia was certainly a finalist. I may go with it next year, but that costume would probably take me longer to make", Misty admitted, thinking of the struggle to make its wings and tail manageable.

"Personally, I thought you should have gone with Bruxish, I think it fits you better", Lily said with a sneer, thinking of the large, big-lipped fish. All three sisters burst into laughter at the thought. Misty growled.

"OH WHO ASKED YOU, ANYWAY!?", Misty yelled. Azurill jumped in shock at the outburst. Misty gasped, realizing her error, and rushed over to console the baby.

"Wow, way to go, Misty, scare the poor little baby why don't you?", Daisy said in jest. Misty glared, but kept her cool this time.

"So, anyway, what guests are here?", Misty asked, changing the topic. Daisy handed the platter in her hand to Violet while she grabbed another one to hand to Lily.

"None of the other gym leaders yet, but they'll be here any minute, I'm sure", Violet answered.

"The mayor's here, and some of his guests", Daisy added.

"No surprise. Any trainers?", Misty asked.

"Uhm...yeah! That Casey girl is here!", Violet answered. Misty's eyes lit up.

"That's wonderful! I was hoping she'd come around. I know she head's back to Johto during the holidays, I'm glad she could stop by before that", Misty said. She had met many trainers on her journeys over the years, plenty of whom she was still in contact with. They would make time to write her notes or video call her, some would even visit if they were in the area. It made her heart feel good that she still had so many friends from her childhood.

"Brock said he'd be over with his family soon, too. Prof. Oak said he was running late, had to pick up Mrs. Ketchum and someone else", Lily said from outside the kitchen.

"Probably Gary. Alright. Did anyone call while I was working in here?", Misty asked.

"Yes! May did. She said that she'll be here! Didn't say what time exactly, but that she can't wait to catch up!", Daisy answered. Misty smiled. May was someone who she only got to meet once or twice in her childhood, but as she got older, she got to hang out with more and more.

Any friend of his would be a friend of hers, given enough time.

She was a coordinator, a field that Misty knew she wouldn't be cut out for, but loved to see. Misty's sisters, who had an interest in coordinating before becoming co-gym leaders, quickly became some of her biggest fans. They were even one of her first sponsors when she was skilled enough to take some on.

"*Sigh* I knew she would. I can't wait to catch up, it's been far too long since we've seen her. I know Dawn can't make it, she's too far away, but she sends her regards!", Misty explained.

"Aww, how sweet!", Lily replied.

"Iris has her own League's party to deal with, Serena is in Hoenn, and...Tracy's been here all day helping set up", Misty said, thinking to herself of what friends could show up.

"Wait, aren't you missing someone?", Violet asked.

There was a pause.

"...No, I'm pretty sure that's it", Misty replied, feeling a little twitch in her chest.

"...Misty, you know you're forgetting someone", Lily replied.

Another twitch, more painful than the last.

Misty turned around to face the little snacks she was making.

"...No, I'm not. Everyone who said they were going to come, already answered", Misty retorted. The sisters looked at one another. They were all thinking the same thing. About the same person.

"Misty...what about Ash?", Daisy asked.

Twitch.

Azurill, sensing a sudden mood change in its trainer, hopped over to her side. Misty just looked at the fruit before her, her mind elsewhere.

"He...isn't coming".

The sensational sisters seemed perplexed at the statement. As if it didn't seem possible.

"Ash isn't coming? Did he say that?", Daisy asked, slightly shocked.

"He didn't say anything, I left him a message, telling him the details, and he didn't respond", Misty answered. The words came out harsher than she intended, but it felt deserved none the less.

"That doesn't seem like him. He's dense, but not rude", Violet replied.

"Yeah, like, are you sure he would just bail on you like that?", Lily asked.

"I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't care", Misty spat back. She grabbed a few clementines, stabbed celery stalks into them, and then held the platter out for one of them to grab. "Here. Done. I'll work on another treat set and then head out". The sisters all looked at one another in a mutual feeling of concern.

The sisters knew their own strengths, they knew they had beauty, charm, and a wit that would rival anyone. But they also knew their own weaknesses.

They knew that, despite all of their shared love of Water Pokémon and the gym, and the training they've put in since their time back home, that they weren't the best trainers. And though there were many, many differences between them and their youngest sister over personalities, and ideas for running the gym to its prime capabilities, that Misty always thought with the gym's best intentions.

They knew that their "runt" of a younger sister, the "not-so sensational sister", was the best the gym had to offer.

And while they had confidence that she'd get over this soon, it still pained them to see her like this. Misty was most certainly not the type to drool over men the way they used to, (or, still do in some cases), but they knew, from the moment they met him, that she had the one. And that one, right now, was hurting her.

Daisy sighed and walked over, taking the platter. She could see, albeit only from a glance, the pain in her sister's face.

"Misty, hun, listen...just, don't judge too harshly, ok? I know he didn't reply, but you don't know why yet. Maybe something came up, maybe there was bad service where he is, maybe he is, in fact, just an idiot...So please...go easy on him, ok? If, afterwards, it turns out he just ditched you, then Hell, I'll drive you to him myself so you can beat his ass", Daisy explained. Lily and Violet shuddered at the thought of her behind the wheel with their sister again. "But, until then, just...keep an open mind, ok?".

Misty clenched her hands, feeling like she was about to explode. Who were they to tell her how to feel about this situation? But...she eventually sighed, and nodded.

"Yeah...you're right", Misty replied.

And it pained her to admit it.

"Alright. Don't take too long with the next snacks, I'm sure these will last until the main course arrives. Most everyone's eating candy anyway", Daisy explained. Misty gave a half-hearted giggle.

Daisy walked away from Misty and looked to her other sisters. They both looked worried for their youngest sibling, but knew that things would be clear in due time.

Call it women's intuition.

From out of the kitchen, Lily turned towards a noise, and giggle aloud.

"Well, I don't know about Ash, but at least you can see Pikachu tonight", Lily said through laughs. Misty turned around in shock as Lily side-stepped to allow something to pass her.

Walking into the kitchen, its hands on either side of its head, was Misty's ever-so faithful companion, Psyduck. Attached to its head by a thick rubber band were long, flimsy pieces of paper, cut out awkwardly into points with black tips drawn on with crayon. Attached over its tail was a tube, which led to an equally poorly-cut Pikachu tail. To compliment the additions, red circles were sloppily painted on its cheeks.

"Psy.Duck.Psy.Duck.Psy.Duck", Psyduck said as it marched towards its trainer. It finished with a final "Psy" as it stopped on front of her.

"Ohhh, bless its little heart, it tried its best", Daisy said, both loving and horrified at Psyduck's attempt at a Pikachu costume.

"How did it struggle to paint simple circles on its cheeks, but made the brown stripes all the way over on its back almost perfect? I swear your Psyduck's like, the weirdest thing on two legs", Violet exclaimed. Psyduck tilted its head in response.

"Psyduck!"

"Oh leave it alone! I think your costume is...wonderfully you, Psyduck!", Misty stated, bending down to give her Pokémon care. The water type smiled as Misty readjusted its ears.

"Well, don't take too long, alright? Psyduck, make sure she comes out to mingle soon, ok?", Daisy said, instructing the duck Pokémon.

"Psyduck!", Psyduck exclaimed, waving its hand in the air. Daisy and Violet then left the kitchen, and, with Lily, went towards the pool area. They wanted to socialize with the elite and friends, but more still, they wanted Misty to have a moment to herself.

They knew things would turn around for her soon enough.

Misty, meanwhile, looked to her little sheet of "Halloween Snack Ideas" she "borrowed" from Serena's blog online to see what to make next. All the snacks were easy to make, and for most of them, they had the ingredients right there in the kitchen. But the more she thought, the more she got anxious. She didn't want to make anything. She didn't want to be there all of a sudden.

What was wrong with her?

She shook her head, and looked back to the sheet. They were easy ideas, Serena made them even simpler by explaining it in easy steps. But she couldn't find the urge to get started. Her mind kept wandering. Kept getting side-tracked.

She groaned.

Eventually, Misty sighed, tossed the sheet aside, and just sat on the stool at the kitchen island. Azurill bounced over and hopped into her arms while Psyduck wobbled over and leaned against her leg from the floor. They both knew what was getting to her.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you two. I don't mean to worry you. I'll be fine, I'm sure of it", Misty said, rubbing Azurill gently. She said it, but she herself didn't believe it. Misty sighed. "Who am I kidding? I don't know when I'll get over this. It's just...so unlike him. If he had told me he couldn't make it, I would have understood. He's missed more parties and events I've had than I can even keep track of. But to just...not respond to me. To just, leave me sitting here, wondering, and...hoping...it hurts".

Misty found herself clutching Azurill tighter to her chest. It wasn't just the lack of response that bothered her, it was that it came from him that really made it hurt. He just didn't do that. He was always busy, always traveling, always training. Working day in and day out to accomplish his dream; something she would never cease to admire.

But he always made time to talk to her.

Maybe she was spoiled over it. Maybe, she thought, that she expected too much from him, and that, realistically, he didn't need to answer every message that came his way from her. Maybe he was busy responding to another female friend of his?

Twitch.

She shook the idea out of her head. What made her think it was a female friend? What made her think it was even a friend he was talking to? It could have been a multitude of things. He could have gotten hung up with a gym battle. He could be traveling out in the wild with no signal. He could be somewheres out there, alone, and with no one to help him.

Twitch.

Again, she shook the thought out of her head. Why did she keep jumping to the worst conclusions? Azurill nuzzled more into her, sensing her anxiety levels rising. Misty sighed. These thoughts of hers were getting out of hand. She wanted to distract herself. She needed to distract herself.

But the motivation wasn't there. She knew what she had to do, and she knew that doing it would help. But try as she might, she couldn't will herself to start, and so she sat, with the same question running through her mind.

Why didn't Ash answer?

A commotion in the pool area startled her out of her thoughts momentarily. Misty could just make out the voice of her sisters talking to a person or persons. More guests were arriving.

It was as much motivation as she was going to get, she thought. Misty sighed, and stood up, placing Azurill down on the table in the process. Looking at the sheet momentarily once more, she decided on a snack and grabbed several bananas. She handed some to Psyduck.

"Here, peel these for me, please", Misty said. Psyduck took the bananas and began to peel the skins away with its sharp webbed claws. Misty herself peeled a banana and then cut it in half. Then, with a chocolate-filled pipping bag, began to draw the tiniest of dots on the ends of the bananas. Within seconds, a ghost face had formed. Serena's "Boo-Nanas".

With Psyduck's help, Misty managed to make a fair amount within only a couple minutes. Before she knew it, she almost had enough for a platter's worth. While it was still in the back of her mind, her concerns over Ash weren't controlling her like they did moments before.

"Ok, that's a fair amount done. Let's get a few more and we can send it out...Psyduck?", Misty asked, holding her hand out and expecting to be given a peeled banana. She turned to see that Psyduck was smelling the air. "What is it? You smell something? Wonder if the main courses arrived from the restaurant?", Misty wondered aloud. Azurill also began sniffing the air. Soon, both Pokémon recognized the scent and turned to the door. The sound of something dragging caught Misty's attention.

Entering the kitchen was a small creature, draped in some kind of old-looking sheet. Small black dots were on the lower form, while the head looked to be a misshapen form of a Pikachu. Eyes, cheeks, and a smile were drawn on with some form of crayon, as were the ear tips, not unlike Psyduck's. The head was limp, bobbing left and right and refusing to sit upright. A stick for a tail was stuck to the end of the sheet, by a means Misty could not immediately tell. The figure stood there, not saying a word.

Admittedly, Misty was creeped out, but she recognized the costume. It was a Mimikkyu, a Pokémon from the Alola region.

"Well, hello there", Misty said politely. There was no response from the Mimikkyu. "Hmm, well, I know what you're supposed to be. The question is, are you the real deal? Or are you a costume within a costume?". The figure raised up, the sides of the sheet extending out ever so slightly from the lower body, as it groaned. Misty sighed, no dark appendages.

"Ok, well you're not a real Mimikkyu. So who are you?", Misty asked. The figure darted with surprising across the kitchen floor and to the table, hoping up with ease. It crawled over to the gym leader and sat there, staring at her as the head bobbled more. Misty was creeped out, but sighed. "Ok, being stubborn huh?". She put her hand on the head, stopping it from moving. The figure shuttered, causing Misty to actually tense up. It groaned loudly as Misty held its head.

She heard of the legends surrounding the ghost type. And while she had the utmost confidence that this was nothing more than a Pokémon, dressed up as a Mimikkyu, the hesitation was still there. None the less, she gulped and lifted the head up, and the sheet with it.

"PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII....KACHU-PI!".

Her heart skipped a beat, both from relief, and shock.

"P-Pikachu!? What, how!?", Misty asked. The mouse Pokémon had raised its paws up, growling menacingly as its costume was revealed, in an attempt to be scary. But ultimately greeted its female friend with its usual smile.

"But wait, if you're here, then...", Misty said, realizing the inevitable truth. She covered her mouth and immediately began fighting tears that were suddenly forming as she turned to the doorway. Just popping into view was a man, dressed up in a store-bought Entei costume. The man lowered the mask, revealing the face.

"Hiya, Mist...been awhile".

Misty, despite the well of emotions she was feeling, both positive and negative, couldn't stop herself as the two embraced in a large hug. Ash wrapped his arms around her tight and she felt like she would melt into him. He smelled like dirt road and wild grass, with hints of dewdrops. A combination of scents she missed, and grew to love over time.

"Damn, still got an inch on me, thought for certain I'd be taller. I think we're both done growing, too", Ash joked.

"Ash...", Misty said, smiling with tears coming down her face. "...you ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE!".

Misty immediately stepped back and punched him in the arm, causing him to jump back and rub it firmly.

"Ow! Damn, still got a killer punch I see!", Ash replied. Pikachu sighed. It appeared as if little changed over the years. It hopped down from the table with Azurill to catch up with its friend Psyduck, and admire its rendition of itself.

"What the HELL were you thinking!?", Misty asked. Despite the tears and rage inside of her, she was smiling and laughing as she asked it. She was a whole mess of emotions and she didn't know which one was in control at the moment.

"I was thinking that my plan went off without a hitch", Ash replied, still rubbing his arm.

"Your plan!?", Misty asked.

"Yeah! Your sisters knew! I asked them what costume you were wearing, so that I could match it...but dang, you really had to go all-out and make me look cheap, didn't you?", Ash explained, looking over Misty's costume.

"They knew!? Argh! I'm gonna KILL THEM!", Misty growled, nearly tearing her hood off.

"Actually, they seemed pretty upset with me, too. Did you not know I was coming or something?", Ash asked.

Twitch.

There was a moment of silence. Misty turned towards the trainer. He looked genuinely perplexed. It was a look she swore was stuck to his face nine hours of the day.

"...How could I, when you DON'T ANSWER!?", Misty asked. Ash stood back from the angry response, and Misty could tell he was rearing to protect his other arm.

"Woah, woah, I did respond!", Ash exclaimed. He then fumbled in his costume pants pocket and pulled out his Poképhone. He unlocked the screen and immediately began going through his messages. "See, look, you sent me the text, asking if I would come to the party, and showing me your official invite sheet, and yadda yadda, and here I said...".

There was a pause.

Ash groaned heavily. Pikachu did the same. He tapped a button, and within a few seconds, Misty heard the sound of a water droplet. She recognized it as her custom ringtone for a text message. She grabbed her Poképhone from off the table to see, on her screen, a single message.

"Why not both? ;)"

Twitch.

"I uh...I thought I hit send...I apparently did not...", Ash said sheepishly. Pikachu slapped its forehead.

"...Ash...", Misty said.

"Y...Yes?", Ash asked.

"...You are, in fact...just an idiot", Misty exclaimed. Ash sighed.

"Oh, yeah, that I knew", Ash replied. He expected much worse.

"Why not both?", Misty asked, referring to the message.

"Uh, yeah. Your message. After you sent me the image of your paper invite you sent out to people, you asked me, "So, Trick, or Treat?". And that was my answer.

"...Both?", Misty asked.

"Yeah, the treat was that I'd be here for you. The trick...well, the trick was technically Pikachu's costume, in an attempt to scare you, but I guess this little incident is more of a trick now?", Ash replied with a nervous chuckle. Misty sighed and covered her eyes with her hands. In doing so, more tears came out. They were residual, but it was enough for Ash to notice. He rushed over and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Misty, I'm so sorry, I swear to you, I didn't intend to hurt your feelings. I wondered why you didn't respond, and I didn't think to check and see if the message sent, I figured you were just busy with preparations and talked to your sisters about me coming over. I guess they thought that you got a reply from me until tonight", Ash quickly explained. His chest hurt from seeing Misty tear up like that. Especially that it happened because of him.

"Ash...the amount of emotional pain you've briefly given me...is nothing, compared to the amount of PHYSICAL pain I'm going to put you through after the party", Misty exclaimed. Ash shuddered. "And once I tell your mom what you did, she'll probably add to it".

"...You wouldn't".

"Gyarados won't even be able to eat your remains, they'll be so pulverized".

"...Pikachu wouldn't let that happen to me".

"Piiiii", Pikachu answered.

"Once again, you've proven to be just the BEST friend I could ask for!", Ash said sarcastically.

"But for now...", Misty started. She slowly leaned into Ash and wrapped her arms around him. "...let me just...sit here a bit?" She closed her eyes, took in a wiff of his scent, and smiled. Ash smiled himself, wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes.

"Take as long as you need...Happy Halloween, Misty".

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I haven't stopped writing and editing this story for the last few hours, and I'm EXHAUSTED. I'm so sorry if this story isn't up to snuff; I'm out of practice. This was my contribution to Misty Appreciation Day, hope you enjoyed!

-EVAN AAML