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snazzy-suit · 5 months

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Luigi: Liaison of Ghosts Chapter 5.5 - Hey! Creatures! Leave Them Kids Alone!

MP - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5.1 -5.2 - 5.3 - 5.4 - (5.5) - 5.6 - 5.7 - 5.8 -5.9 - 5.10 - 6 - 7.1 - 7.2 - 7.3 - 7.4 - 7.5 - 8

Part 5 of 10

[Prefer to read on ao3? Click here]

In which Gooigi envies dinosaurs, snarks a child, and gets reprimanded by a ghost. Following that, Luigi and Dane check to see what's behind door #1 (and #2, and #3, and #4, and #5, and—)

"Sign language."

'Thoughts.'

"Gooigi speaking out loud."

"B̵a̧c͜k̷ward̷ ̢sp͡e͡e͢c̀h̵."

______________________________

[Earlier]

Gooigi really doesn’t like the second floor of this house.

For one, it feels awful. The unsuspecting ectomorph nearly lost form from the sharp change in energy after he stepped through that portal at the top of the stairs. For another, the hallway enchantment shtick was really getting old. He had given up on trying to find a pattern after he passed that meadow painting for the umpteenth time. Gooigi doesn’t know how a painting of a landscape could give off a smug aura, but it does and it’s mocking him and he doesn’t like it.

Also, the second floor’s carpet and drape scheme is ugly.

But the worst thing? The worst thing is the doors. They are all closed, and Gooigi and shut doors don’t get along.

The ectomorph didn’t accompany Luigi to the pool area because he knew he’d be useless there. He figured exploring the rest of the house would be a better use of his time. He could find the last kid, nab the remaining ghosts, and meet up with his partner after they’d dealt with their own watery specter. Divide and conquer, and all that.

He might as well have waited in the mud room for all the good he’s doing.

Gooigi stops in front of a door to his left and glares holes in the mullion. What is he supposed to do? Knock and hope a ghost lets him in? Maybe if he’s lucky, the missing kid will answer. Wouldn’t that be nice?

The ectomorph briefly considers using the Suction Shot to tear the door down, but decides to hold off on the idea. Luigi probably wouldn’t be very happy if he went around destroying their clients’ property if it was avoidable. The ectomorph leans in, pressing their body to the door and listening for any signs of (after) life on the other side. Nothing. For kicks, he gives knocking a try and listens again. Still nothing.

Gooigi takes a step back and looks at the doorknob. Deep down, he knows it’s futile, but he can’t resist the urge to try opening the door anyway. The knob twists imperceptibly in his grasp. For a moment, Gooigi thinks he may actually succeed.

That hope slips through his fingers along with the doorknob.

Gooigi drops his head against the door with a quiet splat. He gurgles in frustration. This isn’t a new struggle by any means, but it’s no less infuriating.

‘Dinosaurs can open doors, but I can’t,’ the ectomorph thinks sourly. ‘What does that say about me?’ 1

‘That was a movie, Gooigi,’ his inner Luigi retorts. ‘Stop comparing yourself to outdated fictional portrayals of prehistoric animals.’

‘It was accurate for the time!’

‘Gooigi, they weren’t even calling some of the dinosaurs by the right names.’

‘…still a good movie.’

Inner Luigi doesn’t argue.

Gooigi is considering tearing the door down anyway when he detects movement in his peripheral. He turns and is startled back into high alert when he spies a ghost emerging from a nearby room. They are looking down the other end of the hall, as if searching for something. Before Gooigi can decide whether to hide or launch a surprise attack, the entity turns and spots him.

The ghost appears to be a Koopa adorned in old armor, and their shadowy form betrays their nature as an entity that subsists on negative energy. They’re a Vitiate, like the others, and pose a great potential threat. But when Gooigi takes note of their eyes, he feels himself relaxing minutely—they're glowing red.

The ectomorph thinks back to one of the many mnemonic devices the professor had drilled into his head.

Glowing white, prepare to fight.

Glowing red, talk instead.

Or... something like that. Luigi had cautioned him not to accept the phrase as law—there were always exceptions.

With all this in mind, Gooigi offers the ghost a cheerful little wave. “Hello!" 2

The Vitiate tilts their head minutely at his garbled greeting. Then, cautiously, they glide down the hallway, coming to a stop a few arm lengths away. When they don’t immediately attack, Gooigi dares to feel hopeful. He might just be able to reach a peaceful agreement with this entity, too, and that’ll put him and Luigi at 2 – 0 in successful negotiations for this mission. Even if Luigi manages to placate the water ghost, he’ll still have a one-point lead. Not that anyone is keeping score, or anything.

“U͝ǫý e͟ra̷ ǫh́w͝? E̢v̢r̀es̷ ́u͞oy̴ ͟od r̢e͞tsa͟m t̀a̡h͏w?” 3

Gooigi stares blankly at the ghost. Perhaps this isn’t going to be as easy as he had hoped.

“Uh... what?"

The ghost has the gall to look annoyed. It’s not Gooigi’s fault that they were speaking gibberish!

“Et̕a͢ts ͝tn̶eŕr͡uc ym͞ ni͏,͏ e͢m ḑn͟a̕ts͞r̕e̶dn̷u ̨ot ̕uo͢y d̵et̶cep̶xe ev̶a̡h t͢’̡n͞ah̡s̶ ͘Į, esr͡uoc͡ f͘o.” The Vitiate murmurs, seemingly to themselves. “Ti͡a̸w nac͝ ̶śn̸oít͏cu̸do͢rtn̸i rep̧o͘rp, ͟re̷tt̴am̶ ̕on. E͝su fǫ eb͢ n͘a̵c ưoy̡ s͝pahre͡p os,͘ uo͘y͘ tu̶ob͠a ͏cigam͠ ̕s’̡ręts̵a̕m y͟m ́tcet̢èd́ t̕on o͡d͢ I.”

“…okay. Well, my name is Gooigi and, um..." Gooigi sighs, switching to his preferred method of communication. “Any chance you know sign language?”

The ghost reels back with a hiss, watching his hands with apprehension. “Gn͡i̢od ̨uoy e̶r͢a tàhw? Yrecr͟os fo ͡ȩp̧y̵t em̷o̧s s̛i̶ht̕ si?”

Gooigi takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Whoa! It's okay! This—" he slowly spells out his name as a demonstration, “—is how I talk."

The dark entity relaxes minutely. “Sd̴n̷ah̶ ͡ǹi kąe̴p̵s uoy͝?” they drift a little closer, “Ti͢ nees̡ r̨e͠v̢e ͠ev’̛i e̵mit ̡tsri̶f͢ ̧e̵h͠t̵ ̀s̶i síht tub, ńoita͞c̸i͏n͜um̧moc f̢o̵ mro̕f̡ ͟şi͢ht̛ ̕f̛o draeh ̶e͢v̸ah̶ ̸I.” The ghost looks down at their own hands. “S͢u̡o͠iru͟c. X͟e͟h s̵iht ̧yb ̶de͝tce̡ffa̷ èb̶ d̛l̷uow̨ ̷k͝a͞eps ̴dn͞a͝h ̛f̀i re͏d͝now̵ I̕...”

Gooigi is at a loss. This ghost doesn’t know sign language and they talk like a weirdo. At the very least, they seem to understand Gooigi when he speaks out loud, but talking isn’t exactly the ectomorph’s strong suit, and it takes a lot out of him, so... Yeah. Not the most ideal of situations.

Maybe the ghost knows charades?

“Tna̢v͘ele͘rri̴ s’͢t͢i eşop̶p̢úś I,” the ghost sighs. “Xe̛h͡ ̸s͘iht ͜ka͘e͟r͢b t͝o̴n͟na̵c kae̷ps̀ d̛nah͟. K̕roẃ ot̡ cig͟am sih̴t ̡rof yl̡b̸i͝dua ͡k̵ae͏ps̸ ̡ot ̨uoý deen͏ l͟ĺi͏w ̢I.”

Gooigi, more focused on figuring out a way to explain the concept of charades to a dark entity, almost misses them reaching for something. There’s a shift, movement, and a thick, well-worn tome drifts out from behind the armored Dark Koopa. Gooigi freezes, and a spike of unease surges through him. He can’t say for sure, not knowing exactly what it looks like, but the ectomorph is willing to bet this is the spell book Luigi had told him about—the one the kids had used to summon all these ghosts. There’s no telling what other dangerous spells this book might contain. Does the Vitiate intend to use it on him?

To Gooigi’s relief, and growing confusion, the Vitiate doesn’t begin flipping through the pages in search of a deadly incantation. Instead, they open the book, turn it, and gently nudge it toward the ectomorph. The book drifts to a stop before him, just close enough that he can make out the words on the pages. Gooigi doesn’t dare attempt to grab the tome; he and paper don’t get along, either.

Gooigi looks from the open tome to the expectant gaze of the armored Koopa. “You... want me to read?" he asks.

The ghost nods. They point to a passage on one of the pages, and the words begin to glow softly. Wow, they even highlighted it for him. How thoughtful.

“Why?"

The Vitiate’s eyes narrow at him. Gooigi attempts to mirror their glare with admirable effort. It was a fair question!

His ghostly companion finally relents (no one beats Gooigi in a stare-down). They tilt their head back and point at their throat. “Yaw ͏s̢i̡ht̴ k̡a͞e͏ps ot̡ ̕em͏ ͜gnicr̕o͏f̷ xe̷h e̡ht͞ ̴kae̛rb ͜ll̨iw͟ llep̢s̀ eht͞.”

Gooigi hums thoughtfully. Either the ghost has a sore throat, or this has something to do with the weird way they talked. The ectomorph is going to go out on a limb and assume the dark entity wouldn’t invoke magic for something that could easily be fixed with a cough drop.

He stares down at the spell book and its highlighted passage. Luigi and the professor said that magic was dangerous, especially if you weren’t experienced with it. He’s not supposed to try this kind of thing without a professional to supervise. Would the Vitiate count as a professional? Probably not. It’s only a spell about helping the ghost talk normally or whatever. It couldn’t be that dangerous, right?

If the ghost is telling the truth, anyway. Gooigi doesn’t recognize the language the spell is written in. For all he knows, this is for summoning eldritch monsters (or lighting gullible ectomorphs on fire).

Gooigi shrugs to himself. Eh, sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.

“Okay, I'll help," he says at last. Gooigi pauses. “I’ll try," he amends, “Talking is... hard."

The ghost nods imperceptibly. They anxiously glance up and down the hall as Gooigi begins to read, seemingly keeping watch—for what, he doesn’t know. Gooigi trips and fumbles his way through the most complicated paragraph he’s ever had the displeasure of reading. Nothing happens after he finishes, so he tries twice more, just in case. He can’t tell if he does better or worse with each attempt. Eventually, the ectomorph must concede defeat.

“Sorry..."

The Vitiate makes a frustrated sound, akin to a growl, but to Gooigi’s relief, they don’t lash out. “Er̛ef̡r͢etni̵ t̴’ņdid͜ ͢r̸e̶t̕sa͘m ym̨ ͠t͟àh͡t ͡s̛uo̧tiu̡t̛ŕo͝f ơot ͘s͝aw̷ ti̴ t͞h̴gu͟o͢ht̷ ̴dah ̡I. S̷noi̛t̨a̸t͢imil l͡aćov ̡ru̶oy fo̷ węn͏k ̕éh ̵sp̷ah̷rep̶...”

Is the ghost belittling him or placating him? Gooigi decides to pretend it’s the latter. “It's okay! My friend can help!"

“D̴n͡eir͢f̵?” the ghost murmurs.

“My partner is here," he says, “We find him, he can read. He has a mouth!

The dark entity regards him strangely, which is fair, given Gooigi’s choice of words. Still, the ectomorph isn’t discouraged.

“But first," Gooigi continues, “I need to find a kid. Have you seen them?"

The garbled words are barely out before the Vitiate reels back with a snarl. Gooigi raises their hands placatingly, startled by their response.

“Is that a 'yes' or do you not like kids?"

The Vitiate glares at him. Ah. Right. He should stick to ‘yes or no’ questions (and avoid dumb ones, honestly).

“T̀i ͠s̷lliw̷ re͝t̨s͠a̶m͜ d͞e͘hc̡t̴er̷w ̷y̵m s͘sel̶n͟u ͡y̛ob ̵ta̡ht ̵dni͢f͞ ̨ton ͠lli̧w͏ uơy,” the ghost hisses. “N̛ac̛ ͢ll̸i̧ts̴ eh ̵e̷l͘i͡h͟w ͢ec̶al͘p ͘s͜i͜ht ̡sèv̸aęl͡ e̴h ̡tah̷t̡ s͢e̕kas ruoy fo͏ ͟h͟t̸ob ̕ŗo̕f ͜yarp͝ I,̛ t̴seret̶n͜į ̀s͞’re̵t̛sam ͘y͞m͜ de̕rut͠ṕa̸c ͜sa̧h̸ ͏taht́ n̴amu̕h̸ ͝ehţ si̢ eh ̛f͠i, ̷’ren̛t̴r̷a͡p̸‘ r͟uǫy̧ ̡r̵o͜f ̧s͝a.”

That... somehow sounded super ominous and important. Call it a gut feeling. Would the ghost get annoyed if he asked them to repeat that in a game of charades?

A sharp gasp from down the hall steals Gooigi’s attention. He turns around and is both surprised and elated to see what appears to be an adolescent Doogan. They are standing at the end of the hall, having just stepped through the enchanted intersection. The kid is staring at the two paranormal entities with eyes wide and mouth agape. He kind of reminds Gooigi of a ghost that had just been hit with the mother of all Strobulb flashes.

What was the saying? Speak of Jaydes, and she will appear? (Is that why mortals refuse to say her name? Ridiculous. Jaydes is an absolute delight to be around.)

Whatever the case, his luck is finally turning around. Gooigi tilts his head in the approximation of a smile and offers the kid a friendly wave. “Hello!"

The Doogan promptly screams.

Now, Gooigi is used to this type of reaction (the same thing had happened when he first met Luigi), so he isn’t deterred by it. He raises both hands placatingly, but before he can try and calm the kid down, they’re pulling something out of their pocket and brandishing it like a weapon.

Is... is that an onion?

“Stay back, monster!” the teen shrieks.

Gooigi complies for the moment, but not out of any concern for the Doogan’s bizarre arsenal. Seriously, what’s with the onion?

“Why do you have an onion in your pocket?”

“For situations just like this one! Everyone knows the living dead hate onions,” the kid says with the confidence of an idiot. “As long as I have this, you can’t touch me.”

…this has to be a joke, right? There’s no way someone is this confidently wrong. Gooigi doesn’t even know where to begin addressing the blatant misinformation, so for the sake of his own sanity, he decides not to acknowledge it.

“Kid, I’m not going hurt you,” he signs, taking a cautious step forward. “I’m here to save you from—”

“Save me?” the Doogan laughs incredulously, “You think I’d fall for that just because you sort of look like Luigi?” he points at something past the ectomorph with his free hand, “Your evil boss is right there!”

Gooigi follows the kid’s line of sight and winces internally as his gaze lands on the (weirdly quiet) Vitiate. Okay, standing next to one of the ghosts that’s been terrorizing the kid and his friends is definitely not a good look. It doesn’t help that the spell book is still open and floating in plain view.

“...I’ll admit, this looks bad,” Gooigi concedes, “but you’ve got it all wrong. The ghost and I have just been trying to work things out—”

“Uh-uh!” the Doogan interjects, “No way am I listening to you! You’re just trying to trick me!”

Gooigi sighs, daring to take a few steps closer. “Please, just give me a chance to explain—”

“I said stay back! Don’t make me use this!” the Doogan shakes their onion with emphasis.

“Oh no, a smelly, tear-jerking vegetable; I better go crawl back into my crypt.” Gooigi acknowledges that snarking a terrified teenager probably isn’t the best approach, but he can’t seem to rein in the sass when faced with the ridiculousness of the situation.

The kid does not respond to Gooigi’s sarcastic quip, and it takes the ectomorph a moment to realize he isn’t even looking at him anymore. He is staring past him with growing horror and confusion.

“H-hey, where’d your boss go?”

“They’re not my—!” Gooigi freezes. Wait... what? He quickly turns. The armored Koopa Vitiate is gone, and so is the book.

A panicked shriek pulls Gooigi’s attention back to the Doogan. He whirls around and is horrified to find the kid in the ghost’s grasp. Apparently, while the kid had been focused on Gooigi, the Vitiate had turned invisible and crept up on him, grabbing him from behind (is this ghost part Slinker?). They have one arm wrapped around the Doogan’s throat, and the other is keeping one of his arms pinned to his side. If the situation weren’t so dire, Gooigi would have found it amusing that his free arm is the one clutching the onion.

“No! Let me go!” the kid yowls, thrashing desperately in the ghost’s grip, “I’m sorry for calling you evil! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Nw̕od ͟draug r͡uoy̵ t̸eļ ̀ot, ͝uo͘y͢ f̀o ̡sselèr̷ac w̨oh,” the dark entity hisses, “Wo̧n dn͞a͟ er̨eh ͘sdn͏e s̨ih͜t!”

Gooigi finally snaps out of his shock. He sprints toward the kid and their ghostly captor, waving his arms frantically to get the latter’s attention. “Wait! Stop!"

The Vitiate pays him no mind. Their hold on the Doogan only tightens, and the kid’s struggling devolves into intense shivering. “C-cold! Why is it s-s-so c-cold?”

“Please! Stop!" Gooigi pleads, increasingly more desperate, “Let the kid go!"

“M͠elo̸g͏ èm̕il͞s̛,͢ ȩc̶nel̕i̴s͠!” the dark entity growls, keeping their eyes firmly on the Doogan. “N͜o̢iţart͘n̛e͡c̡no͏c͢ ̴l̢l̢u̶f y̶m ͝s̀e̶r̷iuqe̵r͠ síht̀, ̷nop͠ąeẁ ͠a fo ̕dia̷ e͡ht͜ ̕tu͢o̧ht̕íw.”

‘I don’t know what you’re saying!’ Gooigi wants to scream. If he had hair, he’d be tearing it out. Why, oh why couldn’t he have gotten that stupid spell to work?!

The kid abruptly goes stiff. His mouth hangs open, and his wide eyes stare vacantly into the middle distance. With growing horror, Gooigi notices that the Vitiate’s arms have begun to slowly phase into the Doogan’s body. What is the ghost trying to do?! Is this what possession looks like? Gooigi isn’t about to wait and find out.

The time for talking has ended.

Gooigi quickly weighs his options. Startle the ghost with the Strobulb? No, he’ll be blinding the kid, too. Blast the ghost away with the Burst function? No, as tightly as they’re holding onto the kid, he’ll be brought along for the ride. Skip straight to the vacuuming action? The ghost would probably just clamp down harder. That just leaves...

The ectomorph silently preps the Suction Shot. His distracted adversary’s head is just visible over the kid’s shoulder. If he aims carefully, he should be able to obscure the ghost’s vision with the cup of the plunger. Hopefully, that will startle them enough to let go.

Gooigi takes aim, and fires.

The plunger hits its mark. Startled, the ghost relinquishes their hold on the kid and immediately claws at the obstruction. The Doogan collapses to the floor with a gasp. Gooigi darts forward as the teen shakily rises to their hands and knees.

“You okay?" he warbles, reaching out to offer the kid a hand.

The Doogan looks up, wild-eyed, and leaps to their feet with a shriek. They throw the onion at Gooigi in a panic and bolt down the hallway. The vegetable bounces harmlessly off Gooigi and lands at his feet. He stares down at it in dumb silence while the Doogan makes their getaway. 3

Huh. Gooigi has to give the kid credit; the onion certainly gave him pause.

“On͡!̡ Ep͢a̵cse̸ me̶ht̸ ́t̢el ͠t̀’̶n͟o͝ḑ!”

The Dark Koopa nearly bowls Gooigi over as they barrel past him. The time allotted to him by the Suction Shot is apparently up. Gooigi scrambles to recover and quickly pursues the angry Vitiate. The Doogan dares a glance over his shoulder and yelps at the rapidly gaining duo. With a desperate burst of speed, he sprints through the intersection at the end of the hall and disappears into the enchantment’s tell-tale shimmer.

The Vitiate halts before the invisible barrier can claim them as well. Gooigi moves to go around them, but the dark entity seizes the ectomorph by the arm. To Gooigi’s shock, he doesn’t just slip through the Vitiate’s grip like he would with anyone else. He is held firmly, as if he isn’t a semi-solid being, and Gooigi distantly wonders if it has anything to do with them both being ectoplasmic entities. Then, with a furious snarl, the ghost turns and throws him to the ground.

Rude.

“Lo͝of ̨u̷o̸y! Enǫd̸ ́e̸v’̷uoy ̷t͝ahw͡ ̷a͞ed͢i y̡n̡a͟ ͡e̵va̛h u͢oy ̴od́?!” The Dark Koopa howls. “Me̛ht̷ d͠a̸h̸ ts̢òml͞a Í! Si̸ht̢ d͟edn͢e eva̧h dlu͜oc̨ e͝w!”

Gooigi doesn’t have to understand the ghost to know they are chewing him out. He knows a reprimand when he hears one.

“Y̧lla ͞na eb̨ d̨l̡u͠o̡c ̷u̵o͢y d̨ep͠oh͘ dah̶ ́I,” the Vitiate grumbles, “ytįli͝baìl̷ ̷a͜ na̷h̶t ̸er̴om͢ ǵn̸i͠hton ͝er’̨ùo̶y͟ s̴me̷es͏ ti ͘tub́.” They turn away. “P͟a̡rt ́s͏’r̛e̢tsa̛m ym̛ sr̕e̢tnȩ n̵am͘uh ̷r̨u͝o̴y͏ er͡of̛e̢b em͢i̡t fo ̡re̸ttam ͠a yl͘ņo s͞i͞ ţi̢ ràef͡ I. T̶sr̶i̡f mih ͜dn͡if̵ ͞lliw ̶I͜, ̷y͜k͟c͠ul ̶si ͡eh ͝f͏i͠.” Without a glance his way, they drift toward the intersection. “E̴v́it͠pec̕rep̕ erom ̕şi e͞h͝ ͡y̡ar̵p ͝I̵.” 3

And with that, the armored Dark Koopa is gone.

Gooigi stares quietly at where the dark entity disappeared. That last spiel had the same energy as one of Luigi’s “I’m not angry, just disappointed” lectures. He can handle angry ghosts well enough, but disappointed ones? That was new. And, somehow, worse.

Gooigi gets to his feet with a sigh, feeling every bit like a scolded child. He wordlessly steps through the enchanted intersection and finds himself in another hallway. The ectomorph is disappointed (but not surprised) that the kid is nowhere in sight. He is less disappointed that the Dark Koopa is also absent.

Why does he feel so guilty? That ghost was doing some weird, spooky stuff to the kid. Gooigi was just trying to protect him! He didn’t do anything wrong!

...right?

Gooigi doesn’t let himself dwell on it. He continues his trek through the halls, hoping to get lucky and run into the fleeing teenager. His persistence eventually rewards him, though not with the kid, but a lead as to where they may have gone. The enchantment has now dropped Gooigi into a hall with a dead end, and about halfway down, is an open door. The Doogan must have ducked into that room and forgot to close it behind them in their haste. Gooigi’s not complaining though.

The ectomorph quietly approaches the door, considering what he can say to the kid to convince them he’s on their side. He steps past the threshold, hands up and ready to make another attempt to placate. To his surprise, the door isn’t to a bedroom, but a staircase. He follows the steps upward with his eyes. Where does this lead? The attic?

The door abruptly slams behind him, and it is at that moment that Gooigi realizes he just walked into a trap.

Of course it’s a trap. After multiple failures in a row, why would his luck suddenly be any better?

Gooigi sighs and prepares to use the Poltergust’s Suction Shot on the door. He hesitates. He glances over his shoulder, back at the staircase. It’s probably not the wisest choice, but Gooigi can’t deny that he’s curious as to what may be at the top of those steps. It could be nothing, and Gooigi had just been lured to this particular door at random, but the ectomorph has come to learn that when dealing with the paranormal, there are few coincidences. There must be a reason the ghosts trapped him here of all places.

Gooigi cautiously ascends the stairs, Poltergust at the ready. When he reaches the top, he quickly steps off to the side—he's been pushed down staircases too much not to be paranoid—and scans the area for ghosts. Finding none, he begins to explore.

It’s an attic, as he suspected. There are boxes and miscellaneous items covered with dusty sheets lining the walls—standard stuff. What isn’t standard, is what lies in the middle of the room.

A large, intricate magic circle has been drawn onto the floor. It is surrounded by a ring of candles dripping with melted wax. The candle’s wicks are still lit, but instead of a warm orange, the flames glow a ghostly lilac.

‘This must be where the kids summoned the ghosts,’ Gooigi thinks.

He dares to get closer to the circle, scrutinizing it carefully. Gooigi is no expert in magic, but this doesn’t look like the type of arrangement you’d need for a simple séance. Stars, just what kind of magic did these kids mess with?

Luigi might know what this is. And if he doesn’t, hopefully he had the foresight to pack E. Gadd’s latest invention to help identify it. The ectomorph turns, intending to go back down the stairs and bust down the door, but is stopped by another presence. There, blocking the staircase, is a Clubba Vitiate.

Gooigi immediately notes that the ghost’s eyes aren’t red, which doesn’t bode well, but that doesn’t mean they’re a guaranteed hostile. After all, the Snifit had white eyes and Gooigi had managed to make peace with them.

They also hadn’t been as far gone as the other Vitiates, but that’s beside the point.

Gooigi waves cheerfully at the Clubba, undeterred. “Hello!"

The rotund ghost stares quietly back at him. For a moment, Gooigi thinks they might be open to a friendly chat. Ominous leering isn’t necessarily a sign of aggression, right? Maybe they’re just shy.

The Clubba ghost starts to growl, and before Gooigi knows it, the dark entity is growing and shifting into a grotesque parody of itself. Gooigi takes several steps back, readying his Poltergust.

“Uh-oh."

_______________

[Now]

Luigi, Dane, and Pepper slowly make their way up and down the various hallways. Luigi pauses before each door, sensing for traps and destroying them accordingly. Only a few of the doors they’ve come across so far were a part of the original floor plan, and none of the rooms beyond showed signs of Gooigi or the remaining ghosts. At first, the trio search in silence—Luigi being focused on the task at hand, and Dane seemingly cowed from his admonishing—but after an uneventful stretch of time, the kid begins to fill in the quiet with questions.

“So, what’s with the fancy vacuum? I’ve never seen one with a flashlight attachment.” Dane watches as Luigi destroys yet another trap door with the Suction Shot. “Or shoot toilet plungers, for that matter.”

Luigi, for some unexplainable reason, finds it difficult to respond. His brows furrow. It was an innocent question with a simple enough answer, so where was this hesitation coming from?

“This,” Luigi says at last, brandishing the Poltergust’s wand, “is the Poltergust G-00-EG—” Patent pending. “—the latest Poltergust model and most advanced piece of ghost capturing technology in all the known kingdoms.” 4

Dane hums appreciatively. “A bit of a mouthful, but as far as puns go, ‘Poltergust’ is unquestionably ‘S’ tier.”

Luigi smiles, remembering how giddy E. Gadd had been when he first introduced the Poltergust all those years ago. He’d be delighted to know that someone else appreciated his “naming genius.”

“Is that where the ghosts go when you catch ‘em?” Dane asks, pointing to the clear canister on Luigi’s back.

“No, that’s for Gooigi.”

Dane’s eyes widen. “You store Jelly Joe in a jar?”

Jelly Joe? Luigi’s adding that one to the list. “The canister is for protection and recovery, not storage.”

“Protection from what?”

The inexplicable hesitation from before returns, stronger this time. Luigi frowns. He clears his throat, jaw spasming minutely as he opens his mouth to answer.

“Water, mostly,” Luigi replies, ignoring the strange surge of annoyance that follows. “And if he is hurt badly enough that he can’t maintain form, the Poltergust automatically collects his physical body until he’s able to recover.”

“Oooo neat.” Dane leans over to better scrutinize the Poltergust. “How does he get out?”

“There’s a sensor at the bottom of the canister that Gooigi can trigger when he’s ready.” Luigi frowns to himself. “But that’s been acting up lately, so I’ve been having to release him manually.”

Luigi pauses at the next door, not detecting a trap or malevolent energy. He gestures for Dane to step back and opens it to find another hallway identical to theirs. He quirks a brow before cautiously leaning out the door. When he looks to his left, Luigi is bewildered to see Dane, Pepper, and himself several doors down. His “doppelgänger” is also leaning through a doorway. Luigi withdraws and looks to his right to see an open door down the hall—the exit point of the portal.

“Whoa, that’s trippy!” Dane runs down the hall before Luigi can protest and stops in front of the other door. Sure enough, they are now standing before the plumber in the threshold.

Luigi patiently has the Doogan step through the door so they are once more at his side. Luigi closes the door and locks it with his magic skeleton key.

“Oh cool! A skeleton key! I’ve never seen one in person before.” Dane leans in curiously. “But why are you locking the door with it?”

“I’m breaking the enchantment so I can safely dispose of the door.”

Luigi tears the door down. Sure enough, the door it had been connected to down the hall also disappears. Luigi destroys a few more trap doors before coming to another one free of malevolent energy.

A wall of steam pours over the threshold and curls around the plumber and his companions. When it clears, Luigi finds he is standing before a bathroom. The floor is checkered with pale blue tile, the rest of the room adorned in complimentary shades. Across from the trio is an old, claw-footed tub with a shower curtain drawn tightly around it. The curvy silhouette of a woman can be seen beyond the cloth, her jovial humming mingling pleasantly with the gentle patter of water from the shower head.

Luigi quickly retreats, absently throwing a hand over the teen’s eyes (the latter squawking indignantly) as he shuts the door behind him.

What was up with ghosts and shower hauntings?

“That, uh..." Dane trails off, sounding a little mortified. “That wasn’t one of our bathrooms.”

Luigi sags minutely with relief. It’s another portal door, meaning he doesn’t need to confront whatever is on that side of the threshold. He locks the door and destroys it as well.

The neighboring door also lacks the negative energy indicative of a trap. With great trepidation, Luigi grasps the worn brass knob and pulls. A warm, foul-smelling gust of air billows from the room. It is completely dark, but the plumber can hear what sounds like deep breathing coming from its depths. He warily pulls out his flashlight and turns it on. A narrow, maroon tunnel spans before him, sprawling further and further until its end is concealed in shadow. The walls glisten with a slimy substance, and the ceiling and floor are lined with rows of odd, off-white stalactites and stalagmites—

Wait.

Luigi slams the door, wide-eyed.

Dane stares at the hastily shut door, equally alarmed. "...horrifying."

Luigi silently agrees. He wastes no time locking the door and destroying it. Dane studies the now vacant spot with open wariness.

“So... what do we do if something other than a ghost manages to get through these doors?” Dane glances at the Poltergust. “Does that work on monsters, too?”

Luigi clenches his jaw against the urge to snap at the kid. It’s a fair concern to address, given what they just witnessed, so the subsequent spike in irritation seems rather unwarranted. Why does he feel so agitated?

“It can’t capture them if that’s what you mean,” he says. At the teen’s nervous look, Luigi quickly tries to assure them. “But you don’t need to worry about that, Dane. I was fighting monsters well before I was fighting ghosts.”

And yet, he is still afraid of the former. Even after all these years.

Dane doesn’t reply to his platitude, so Luigi isn’t certain if he succeeded in putting the kid at ease. They continue on in silence. Luigi destroys two more trap doors before they arrive at one lacking malevolent energy. He warily takes hold of the doorknob, sending a silent prayer to the Stars that it isn’t another portal. He grimaces as he thinks of the last one.

“You might want to stand off to the side a bit,” Luigi tells Dane. “Just in case.”

Dane’s face scrunches up, likely also remembering the previous portal. “Good idea.”

The Doogan moves down the hall a few paces. Pepper trots dutifully after him.

“In hindsight,” Luigi adds, easing open the door, “I probably should have had you doing that in the first—”

Luigi cuts himself off with a surprised yelp. There, standing in the doorway, is the armored Koopa Vitiate. Luigi leaps back, falling into a defensive stance with the Poltergust at the ready, but the ghost doesn’t go on the attack. In fact, they react similarly to Luigi. With equal speed, the ghost puts distance between them, posed to attack or defend as needed. They regard each other quietly. Neither appear eager to make the first move.

“…Luigi?” Dane whispers, near inaudibly. “What’s wrong?”

Luigi tenses, fully expecting Dane’s voice to send the ghost into another frenzy, but they don’t show any reaction. Either they didn’t hear the kid, or they don’t care enough about his presence to engage in another fight. They seem to have calmed considerably since their earlier encounter. Perhaps now they can try and settle matters diplomatically.

“We don’t need to fight,” Luigi says after a beat. “I have the spell book. Show me what I need to read to break your hex, and we can talk this out. Okay?”

The Dark Koopa watches him in silent scrutiny, but otherwise says nothing in response to his offer. Luigi isn’t discouraged. Something like relief is radiating from the armored Koopa; relief and a sense of urgency so strong, Luigi feels it as if it’s his own. This is confirmation enough.

Luigi turns his head slightly towards Dane, keeping the ghost in his peripheral. “Dane, I need you to bring me the spell book.”

The teen’s eyes widen, darting from Luigi to the doorway. From his spot in the hall, the open door is shielding the ghost from view—a near perfect replica of their prior meeting, only with reversed roles.

“Is that who I think it is…?” Dane whispers.

Luigi nods sharply. “I know they scared you before, but you need to trust me on this. Remember what we talked about…”

The Doogan winces, likely recalling his reprimand. He nods to himself as he carefully makes his way over. Pepper matches the kid’s cautious stride.

Luigi spares the Dark Koopa a brief glance. Their head is also turned in Dane’s direction, perhaps listening to his timid approach. Luigi opens the door wider to make room for his two companions. He holds out his hand with remarkable patience as they draw near. Pepper and Dane step into view of the armored Koopa.

A sharp crack! cuts through the tense silence, startling Luigi into high alert. He turns back to the dark entity, anticipating an attack, but is shocked to find a kaleidoscope of jagged shapes in their place. Harsh lines spiderweb out from a seemingly arbitrary focal point and end at the doorway’s framing. It takes Luigi an embarrassingly long moment to realize he’s looking at a shattered mirror.

“Uh…” Dane begins uncertainly. “Where’s the armored ghost? All I see is our reflection.”

Luigi turns to Dane, confused by their calm reaction to the mirror’s loud and rather sudden destruction. When Luigi turns back to the mirror, he is bewildered to find it completely intact. Dane is currently looking between his and Luigi’s haggard reflection. Luigi quirks a brow, frowning at his own disheveled appearance. His damp clothes are torn in a few places and sag uncomfortably on his frame. There’s a minor scrape on his cheek that he doesn’t recall getting, and he distantly wonders which of the ghosts was responsible for it. He turns his gaze downward to gauge Pepper’s reaction to the mirror, but the pup is no longer beside them. The Polterpup is back where he and Dane had been waiting off to the side, only now they are watching the doorway with wide eyes.

“I… I don’t know,” Luigi says helplessly. “This mirror wasn’t here earlier. Or, if it was, it wasn’t functioning like one…”

Dane abruptly steps away from the doorframe. “Oh, sweet Jaydes, are you telling me this is a haunted mirror? Is the armored ghost possessing it or something?!”

Luigi studies his reflection a moment more, searching for anything amiss. Nothing changes. No cracks, no shadowy ghosts, just a rung-out human in need of a change of clothes and a shower. He closes the door, feeling out of sorts. “It was probably an illusion,” he says quietly. “Spectral shenanigans. Nothing to worry ourselves over.”

Luigi hopes he sounds more certain than he feels. Without further acknowledgment or investigation, he locks the door with his skeleton key and tears it down with a well-aimed Suction Shot. Luigi wordlessly moves to check the next door, only to find there isn’t one. He casts his befuddled gaze back the way they came. A significantly more reasonable number of doors now line each wall. Apparently, they have finished clearing this hall of traps and door portals.

Luigi waves Pepper and Dane forward. “Let’s move on.”

The next hall the trio are dumped into comes to a dead end. Luigi grimaces, already imagining the many different scenarios where they end up cornered and trapped by whatever may be lurking behind these doors. Nothing has jumped out to attack them yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Luigi looks over his shoulder, considering whether to brave their current hall or throw themselves back to the enchantment’s mercy. He turns toward the dead end and ventures forth with a sigh. They’d likely have to come back here anyway; may as well get it over with.

Luigi destroys two trap doors on opposite walls in quick succession, Dane and Pepper following quietly behind. Both give Luigi a generous amount of space each time he stops to conduct an inspection. He is about to examine door number six when he detects movement in his peripheral. About halfway down the hall, one of the doors on the left begins to open. Luigi gestures for his companions to stay put and quickly moves so he is standing between them and the new potential threat. They watch the door’s painfully slow progress, its hinges creaking eerily in the cramped quarters. It eases to a stop; nothing emerges.

“...that is... super creepy,” Dane whispers.

Luigi frowns at the apparent invitation. “Stay close to me," he quietly tells the teen, “And get ready to run."

Dane nods his understanding. He trails nervously after Luigi as the latter cautiously approaches the door. Luigi wordlessly readies his Poltergust. They are almost within reach when a green blur tumbles over the threshold and crashes into the far wall. It slides to the floor in an amorphous blob before quickly reforming into a familiar shape.

“Gooigi!"

The ghost hunter startles, surprised by Luigi’s presence, and turns to the trio with wide eyes. Any relief at being reunited is swiftly dashed by a massive morning star soaring through the open doorway and embedding itself in the wall just above Gooigi’s head.

“Run!"

A giant, clawed hand erupts from the doorway, knocking the door off its hinges as it reaches fervently for the ectomorph. Gooigi swiftly dodges, narrowly avoiding the swiping hand. He leaps to his feet with a distressed warble and dashes past his gawking partner. Luigi jolts from his stupor and quickly directs his companions to join the ghost hunter in their retreat. They run back the way they came, but the moment the group attempts to pass their first intersection, the enchantment’s magic takes hold. Suddenly, the ghost’s swiping hand is in their path, blocking their way forward. Luigi turns and finds a wall at their back. The enchantment had deposited them at the hallway’s dead end.

They’re trapped.

Luigi whirls back to the Vitiate’s flailing arm. The ghost has managed to poke its head out of the door—revealing it to be the Clubba Vitiate that Dane had told him about—but it can’t seem to get the rest of its bulbous body through the threshold. Luigi squints at the struggling entity, bewildered. Why doesn’t it just phase through the wall?

“It’s stuck! That’s good, right?" Dane asks hopefully. “We’re safe?”

The Clubba suddenly retreats into the room. A second later, its hands emerge, clasping both sides of the doorway’s framing. Then, it pulls—widening the opening like someone manually prying open a sliding door. Instead of crumbling into rubble, the walls stretch unnaturally to accommodate the ghost’s impromptu changes to the threshold’s dimensions. Once wide enough, the dark entity claws its way out into the cramped hall.

“O-okay! Um... at least it can’t really move out here!"

The Vitiate growls irritably as it fails to stand at its full height. It raises both arms, palms to the ceiling, and pushes. The ceiling soars upward several meters before coming to a stop, again changing the room’s dimensions without any signs of damage. It reaches an arm out to the morning star imbedded in the wall and grabs the handle. With the other arm, the Clubba shoves against the wall, sending it back another couple of meters while simultaneously freeing their weapon.

“Oh, come on!"

“What did I tell you about tempting fate?!”

Luigi watches as the Clubba rises to its full height. The dark entity reminds the plumber a lot of his brother’s old foe, Tubba Blubba, only bigger. Impractically large tusks jut out from its bottom jaw and two, sharp horns curl back over the entity’s head. Its tail is longer too—so much so that it now drags on the ground behind it instead of poking up in the air.

The Vitiate takes two lumbering steps toward the cornered mortals, closing the already little distance between them. Now that the ghost is closer, Luigi can tell by the way it holds itself that it isn’t at full strength. Gooigi may have failed to catch it in their time apart, but they certainly drained a fair share of the ghost’s energy. Hopefully, with their combined efforts, they can quickly finish it off.

Luigi looks from the ghost to the wall at his back. Full power or not, the Clubba is still incredibly dangerous, especially in such close quarters. Luigi needs to create distance, and fast.

“Gooigi, hit them with the Strobulb," he tells his partner quietly. Then, loud enough for the others to hear, “Everyone get behind me.”

The ectomorph nods as Dane and Pepper squeeze into what little space remains between Luigi and the dead end. While his partner charges their Strobulb, Luigi holsters the Poltergust’s wand and hastily removes his damp gloves. He rolls up his sleeves as an after-thought and raises a fist, sparks coming to life along his hand. Luigi isn’t soaked through, but he’s still far from dry. He can only hope his precautionary measures will reduce whatever backlash he may receive.

The Vitiate, seeing Luigi’s building attack, tries to interfere with a pre-emptive strike of their own, but Gooigi blinds them with a flash before they can follow through. They stumble back with a snarl, and Gooigi quickly moves behind the plumber while the ghost furiously rubs at their eyes. With a final burst of charge, Luigi unleashes the Thunderhand. The attack strikes true, sending the Clubba ghost hurdling down the widened hallway. Unfortunately, as the plumber suspected, his clothes conduct some of the attack, and he receives a shock of his own. Luigi collapses to his hands and knees, muscles spasming minutely at the backlash.

“That was freaking awesome!" Dane whoops, fist pumping in the air. He double takes, finally taking notice of Luigi’s hunched form. “Whoa, man, are you okay?"

“I-I’ll be fine." Luigi gives himself a hard shake. This isn’t the first time the Thunderhand backfired on him, and it certainly isn’t the worst.

Gooigi offers their help as he moves to stand, but when the ectomorph’s hand contacts Luigi’s damp clothes, their palm starts to sizzle. They recoil, looking between Luigi and their reforming hand with a lightly quirked brow. The plumber gives his partner a flat look.

“Not. One. Word." He grumbles.

A deep growl snaps the group’s attention back to the Vitiate steadily recovering from Luigi’s attack. It slowly rises from the ground, residual electricity arcing off its ethereal form. Then, with a furious roar, the Clubba ghost turns to the wall and delivers a powerful kick. Instead of expanding outward, like the entity’s previous manipulations, the hall flips over like a box pushed onto its side—sending Luigi and company flying. All but the Polterpup land in painful heaps on the wall-turned-floor.

“That is, so not fair," Dane wheezes.

The dark entity guffaws heartily at the dazed mortals, lifting its leg to deliver another world-altering kick, but Luigi is ready this time. He calls a warning to his companions and rushes to brace himself for the pull of gravity. The hall flips just as violently as before, but the mortals fair far better as they land on what was once the ceiling. Luigi quickly leaps back to his feet.

“Pepper, you stay here with Dane and keep him safe! Gooigi, you’re with me!"

The Polterpup barks in the affirmative and Gooigi nods, wordlessly following their partner as the latter dashes down the hall. They make it about halfway to their target before the Vitiate decides to flip the room yet again. Luigi mentally nudges the ectomorph, silently conveying an idea. Gooigi presses back in acknowledgement, and, just before the room turns, the two ghost hunters simultaneously perform a Burst—easing their transition to the new plane and significantly reducing their recovery time. The Clubba scowls at their resourcefulness and quickly flips the room again, hoping to catch them off guard, but they anticipate the action and perform another Burst before they can be thrown. Frustrated, the Clubba switches tactics and hoists its weapon into the air. Once the two ghost hunters are in range, it lunges forward and brings the morning star down in a brutal swing. The duo narrowly dodge the blow, leaping to opposite sides of the hallway. The Vitiate continues its wild onslaught, spiked bludgeon scraping mortar from the walls and splintering wood beneath the ruined rug. A particularly brutal swing crashes into the floor and the mighty weapon becomes embedded in its surface. The ghost hunters pause, taking a moment of reprieve while the dark entity struggles to free it.

“Any ideas on how to take it down?" Luigi signs, trying to give himself a chance to catch his breath.

Gooigi stares at the ghost in brief contemplation. After a moment, he perks, turning to Luigi and miming a poof of air like that of the Burst from their Poltergust. He mimics being off balance and then slams one hand on top of the other.

“Take it down by literally taking it down?” The plumber confirms.

Gooigi nods.

“Simple and to the point. I like it."

The two look over in time to see the Clubba ghost pull its weapon free with a mighty tug, sending the lumbering behemoth stumbling back at the sudden lack of resistance. They exchange a glance—there's their opening. Luigi and his partner rush in as the Vitiate tries to recover and simultaneously activate the Burst function of their Poltergusts. The blast of air knocks the already unstable ghost onto their back, and the two ghost hunters waste no time in switching on their glorified vacuums. Each aims their nozzles at a different leg and quickly draws in their respective target. The ghost flails with a snarl, attempting to pull away, but before it can make any progress, the duo lifts as one and swings it in an arc before slamming it back into the ground. They perform this maneuver once, twice, three times—the ghost howling its protests. Luigi activates the Power Surge function, draining the last of the ghost’s energy. He exchanges a look with his partner. With a wordless nod, he shuts off the intake and watches as the roaring Vitiate disappears into Gooigi’s Poltergust.

Five down...

Mere moments after the Vitiate’s defeat, the hallway begins to shudder. Everyone watches in quiet awe as the ceiling lowers and the walls constrict. The doorway Gooigi and the Clubba had come through follows suit, and soon everything has returned to its previous dimensions. The only evidence of their ghostly encounter is the damage left by the Clubba’s deadly weapon.

Luigi smiles wearily, offering his friend a thumbs-up. “Nice work."

Gooigi mirrors the gesture. “Ditto."

Dane and Pepper run over, quickly regrouping with the ghost hunters. The teen looks like he’s about to burst with giddiness. “Whoa! I didn’t know you could bash ghosts into stuff! That must feel super cathartic."

“Well, I wouldn’t say—"

“It does."

Luigi frowns at his doppelgänger. The ectomorph stares back innocently.

“What? You think so too. Don’t lie."

Luigi rolls his eyes, turning back to the Doogan. “Anyway. You okay, kid? Not too banged up I hope…”

“Eh, a bruise here or there, but I’m good. Pepper kept me from being thrown around when the room flipped."

Luigi smiles down at his ghostly companion. “Good job, Pepper."

The Polterpup’s tail gives the faintest wag. An oddly subdued reaction to his praise, Luigi thinks.

“Oh! Where are my manners?" Luigi turns, gesturing to his partner. “Dane, allow me to introduce you to my friend, Gooigi. Gooigi? This is Dane.”

Dane waves sheepishly at the ectomorph. “Hey dude... sorry I, uh, ran from you earlier.”

“You threw an onion at me.”

Luigi quirks a brow at the teen. “You did what now?”

“I told you, I thought he was a bad guy!”

“Why an onion, though?”

“It was a misunderstanding of folklore,” Gooigi signs. “He probably meant to use garlic.”

“But... you’re not a vampire,” the plumber says superfluously. “You don’t even look like one.”

“Hey, imagine how confused I was.”

Dane crosses their arms and shrinks in on themselves, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “Look, I’m sorry about that, okay? I was freaking out and wasn’t thinking. Can we please just drop it?"

Luigi shrugs, taking pity on the kid. “Fine with me. Oh, and for the record, don’t rely on garlic for protection.”

The ectomorph mirrors his shrug and waves a hand dismissively at the kid. “We’re good. I’m just glad to see you aren’t hurt.”

Dane relaxes, looking relieved. “Right back at ya, my jello fellow.”

“I am not gelatin. I am goo.”

“If we want to get technical,” Luigi interjects, “he's coffee and ectoplasm.”

“...I have never heard anything more relatable in my life."

Luigi regards Dane with a quirked brow. The ectomorph puffs up and playfully elbows his partner in the side.

“Hear that, Luigi? I’m relatable.”

Luigi gives his partner a flat look. “Truly, you are the voice of a generation.” He glances down the hall, sobering at the reminder that they are all still standing at a dead-end. “We should get moving before something else shows up and corners us.”

Gooigi puts a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” When they’re sure they have his attention, they gesture to the room they had been violently expunged from. “There’s something you need to see.”

______________________________

Gooigi: "Hello!"

Clubba: *turns into a horrifying monster*

Gooigi: "Understandable. Have a nice day."

Gooigi is so much fun to write. Best gooey boi. <3 And now he's finally back! (To kick! Some! Tail! Goo-ey! Goo-i-gi!) Hopefully he and Luigi can make sense of the mysterious magic circle and figure out how to leave the second floor (aka the least-fun-funhouse ever) before things can take a turn for the worse.

Yoshi, a dinosaur-esq species: "The hell is that supposed to mean?" (I wrote this Jurassic Park reference before I remembered that there are, in fact, actual dinosaurs and dinosaur adjacent species in the Mario-verse, and they would probably be quite offended by Gooigi's implication. I left it in anyway, because I love this dumb inner dialogue and JP too much to change/omit it.) ↩︎

Gooigi's spoken dialogue is written in the "Chiller" font in the original document. I thought the shaky lettering did a great job conveying how "wobbly" his voice sounded to everyone. Unfortunately, I couldn't transfer this font into Tumblr or ao3, so I had to come up with something else for each platform. ↩︎

I promise this is the last chapter with backwards speech (there's like 4 lines of it in chapter 5.7 but that's it). Click here if you want to use the text reversing site. ↩︎

I remember missing the Power Surge function when I first started playing Luigi's Mansion 3, so for this story I decided to give Luigi an upgraded version of the Poltergust G-00 that utilizes it. Gooigi was given the honor of naming the new model, and he came up with Poltergust G-00-EG. The professor immediately called him out on naming the device after himself (Goo-E-Gee), but Gooigi denied the accusation, claiming that the "EG" stood for "E. Gadd" and the rest was merely a coincidence. The professor bought it. (Luigi didn't, but quietly found it hilarious) ↩︎

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the-project-and-the-ghost · 2 years

Text

<3 one

[VALENTINE]

*mewtwo walks up to Adam, obviously planning something, what it is... Very known, you read the title so obviously you know, that is unless you didn't for some reason that's probably personal, if that's the case then don't worry, it's fine!*

*Adam over here is watching a stream by a guy with a black hoodie and brown hair... Seems familiar? No? Then i dunno what to tell you*

Adam: oh here we go- say hello to Specimen 2, bud!

Mewtwo: Adam, was it?

Adam: AUGH!

*he pauses the stream and looks at mewtwo, then he sighs loudly*

Adam: what is it, bro? What's gotten in your non-existent fur?

Mewtwo: i can assure you, i do have fur.

Adam: oh shit really??

Mewtwo: well yes but-

*before mewtwo could say anything else, Adam touched mewtwo's cheek... That's foreshadowing lmao*

Adam: oh wow you actually have fur!

Mewtwo: well- yes, i do have fur now- can you stop... Doing that? Please?

Adam: i can't, sorry, fur too good.

*mewtwo blushes slightly, like i said- "foreshadowing"*

Mewtwo: ANYWAY. //////

*oop- fur time's over, mewtwo moves Adam's hand away from his cheek*

Adam: man-

Mewtwo: can you help me with... Her?

*then it clicks... Adam makes a smug face that mocks the shit out of you with it's smug aura*

Adam: ahaaaaa you like Celeste, don'tcha~?

Mewtwo: well- yes but- why do you do this-

Adam: what's it about her that gets you all flushed? Pretty looks? Personality? Hotness?

Mewtwo: why do you have to be so smug?! You've been through this too, why do you do this?? Just grow up and help me out already!

*Adam is... Quiet. Like "shit man i'm sorry" kind of quiet*

Adam: geez- alright fine let's go, let's get you that girlfriend you need so desperately.

Mewtwo: maybe it was a mistake staying here-

Adam: what did you say??

Mewtwo: nothing, none of your concern.

[LATER ON...]

*mewtwo and Celeste are chatting in the backyard, like friends... Well, friends for now~*

Mewtwo: yeah it was a fun time haha-

Celeste: i'm still amazed by the fact that a kid threw you into a pond like- that's a kid! How strong is that kid??

Mewtwo: the fact he's practically immortal really doesn't help either.

Celeste: what????

Mewtwo: oh it's true, i wouldn't tell you if it weren't!

Celeste: Arceus almighty, you had a few adventures!

Mewtwo: hehe- i wouldn't call it that...

*the two are quiet for a bit... Celeste notices something different on mewtwo*

Celeste: do you have something to tell me?

Mewtwo: uhm- well...

*he thinks about it, should he tell her? Should he confess? will she even like him. does she even want him. a horrible abomination. a monstrosity. would she even like a monster like him. why should she*

*screw it, he is just trying to get to you, don't let him*

Mewtwo: i love you.

Celeste: wh-

Mewtwo: when i hear your voice, i feel my chest is about to burst and my mind is clouded in joy, and when i see you smile i- god it's a smile i want to keep safe at all costs- when you're there, nearby, i feel like i'm safe and there's nothing to worry about, i'm not in danger, i am... I...

Mewtwo: you make me feel free, like i had always wanted.

*Celeste is... Absolutely astounded, like- did this fucking thing confess? Did he? Is this a dream? DID I DIE???*

Mewtwo: C-Celeste..?

*the anxiety. the fear. it's unbearable. why. he can't be right. he can't be my friend. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no.*

*I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOU*

Celeste: yes.

Mewtwo: huh-

Celeste: i love you too, what can i say?

Mewtwo: what-

Celeste: really, i do! I always thought you were pretty hot the moment we met, and this is coming from a freak!

Mewtwo: why do you call yourself a "freak"??? No you're not, you're absolutely beautiful, that vitiligo only makes you even more lovable! Take it from a man-made legendary, you're not a freak, you have the right to live like any other creature on this earth and anyone that says otherwise has never seen real beauty in their life.

*boi if you thought Celeste already loved him-*

Celeste: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa- /////////

*mewtwo is now afraid, can someone call the fire department??*

Mewtwo: can someone call the fire department-

*THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I SAID-*

*Celeste immediately hugs mewtwo, he was not ready*

Mewtwo: oOf- uhhhh... ///////

*obviously he hugs back, they're officially a couple, thems the rules, it's the law*

Mewtwo: hehe- there there...

Celeste: canweonedayhookup-

Mewtwo: what?

Celeste: i said nothing-

Mewtwo: alright?

*he just keeps petting Celeste... Hey if you want, you can think he's purring, it'll make this even more fluffy than i thought it was gonna be and it's gonna be funny if you do that*

[end.]

#main story #mewtwo #adam johnson #celeste gardevoir #chapter 1: new home #{darn it...}

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icharchivist · 8 months

Note

Radis was just giving Orologia lip for *checks notes* caring about people and then Sieten't showed up and suddenly Radis turned to them like "Orologia, who is this human, his smug aura mocks us"

And Orologia was just fully blue screening at that moment

And then the carnage began

idk just funny

it was really funny yeah.

Radis: how could you care about those tiny worthless weak skydwellers

Sieten't: destroys them

Radis OROLOGIA YOUR PET IS BITING US SINCE WHEN ARE THOSE POWERFUL

Orologia: don't look at me, i don't know where he got this powerful, wtf

and then Sieten't got worse <3

#ichareply #ichafantalks gbf #anonymous

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cognitosclowns · 3 years

Photo

I just have a lot of feelings right now okay

#h a n d s #HIS HANDS SPECIFICALLY MAKE A LOT OF VERY INTERESTING SHAPES SMNDSMD #ROBOTUS #SCREENCAPS #I JUST... his Very Subtle Hand Gestures get me <3 #HES ELEGANT WHAT CAN I SAY #his smug aura mocks me <3 #this week on Outis Is Not Straight : Robotus' hands #it's like the chernobyls elephants foot if i look at them directly my inside turn to clotted cream #one day im gonna draw these puppies and die instantly smdnsd #REAGAN IS EXTREMELY EXPRESSIVE WITH HER HANDS I MIGHT MAKE ONE OF THESE WITH HER TOO <3333 #as always feel free to nab these #OKAY GOODBYE DONT LOOK AT ME NOBODY SAW THIS POST DEAL?

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dopposhusband · 4 years

Photo

Other parts of the PV that aren’t Matenrou

#⚽♟#BRO YOUNG JAKURAI #He;;; omg he so;;;; h ammm sum #Where is he :o #Ichiro looks a lil dumpy but LOOK AT JIRO AND SABURO #THEY LOOK SO CUTE #BABEY BROS!!!!!#They are :3 #I dont like how anime Gentaro looks #Anime Gentaros smug aura mocks me and I hate him #Dice looking especially homeless today! Wanna brush his hair #maybe feed him some almonds from the palm of my hand #Cant wait for the anime!!! Gotta get those Doppo Screenshots!!!#Salem don’t look #just in case

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graceface66 · 4 years

Text

This is by far my favorite image on the internet

#his smug aura mocks me #not art #meme #cats #not mine #look at his face #he's like >:3

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babyiamperfectforyou · 2 years

Text

IT’S YOU

Chapter 3

Pairing : Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings : Coarse language, mentions of physical and mental abuse. Please don't read if it triggers you.

Word count : 2.4 k

A/n : Hey everyone, part 3 is here!!! Thank you for your support. Happy reading.

Xoxo,

G and M

Previous part l Next part

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

Nathan. Nathan Anderson, the CEO of The Henry Anderson company, who was one of the wealthiest men in the whole round world. Born with a golden spoon in his mouth, he had no problem getting what he wanted.Only in his late twenties, he became the heritor of everything owned by The Henry Anderson group when his father Henry Anderson passed away due to a cardiac arrest.

Y/N’s blood grew cold. She somehow mustered up the courage to speak.

“Let go of me”, she said.

A smirk was the answer. Nathan pulled her towards him by the wrist and started unbuttoning his black shirt. He looked down at her through arched eyebrows. She saw his black pupils dilating with lust. His look was suffocating. He was eyeing her as if she was some sort of an object for pleasure; a piece of meat. She could see an evil glint in his eyes. He held both of her wrists in one hand and tried to pull her by the waist. He stood there with his shirt unbuttoned, like a hunter trying to shoot the last bullet into the heart of the prey, to silence it forever.

Everything about him screamed darkness. He had a dark aura.

“I said let go of me”, she said again, this time, with more determination and confidence.

She tried to free her hands from his vice-like grip. But he walked towards her, making her walk backwards and hit the wall. He leaned down to her ear and growled,

“ I had been thinking about you since the time you accompanied Steffin to my office to discuss this project. I know you want this as much as I do, so be a good girl and cooperate with me. We don’t want the whole office to know that we’re fucking, now do we?”

“Get off of me, you bastard”, Y/N shouted.

“ You are a haughty little thing, aren't you? I know you are just messing with me. Don't play hard to get, sweetheart. I know you're dying to feel all of me.” He had a smug expression on his face and she just wanted to punch him into oblivion.

“Shut. The. Fuck.Up.”, she said through gritted teeth, stressing each word.

“ What do you need? Money? Cars? Tell me babygirl, I'll give you everything . We both know how you got this promotion, you were fucking your boss, weren’t you? Oh… Steffin is one lucky man…”

Y/N had somehow managed to free her hands from his grip and before he could utter another word, she slapped him across the face. It caught him off guard and he jumped back. She took this opportunity to push him away and run out of the washroom. She ran fast before Nathan could come out.

Tears streamed down her face and blurred her vision. She suddenly turned a corner and her face suddenly met with a hard chest. She jumped back, thinking it was Nathan and looked up, only to be met with a pair of emerald eyes.He looked at her in concern. She was relieved to have met a familiar face and without even thinking, she wrapped her hands around his torso and hid her face into his chest. She could tell that he was surprised from the way his body suddenly tensed. But after a split second, he hugged her back; he held her tight, as if to protect her. She could feel her tears wetting his shirt, but she couldn’t care less. They were so caught up in their intimate little bubble that neither of them noticed a large crowd forming around them. Y/N was the first one to notice a mocking laugh, which she was sure came from Fabiola. Y/N pulled away from him immediately.

“I am sorry… I..” She couldn’t form coherent sentences.

Harry stood there, wide- eyed, not knowing how to react. He couldn’t form words either, he just stood there like a statue.

He saw Nathan walking towards them with an angry expression, his cheek bearing a red handprint. Harry put two and two together. He was fuming.

Before he could do anything, Steffin came out of his cabin and rushed towards the crowd.

“ What is going on here?” His voice boomed. Then his eyes found Y/N and her tear-stained face, and his gaze softened.

“What happened, Y/N?”, he asked.

Before she could answer that question, Nathan interrupted,

“Miss Y/N here, wanted to be my girlfriend, which I politely rejected. I guess she couldn’t handle the rejection. She slapped me across the face, pushing me into the wash area, and ran away.”

Y/N’s body shivered in disgust. She felt like she was about to throw up.

She knew how important this deal was to the company; she knew about Steffin’s relationship with Nathan. Nobody will believe her, she was pretty sure about that.

Steffin looked at her and asked her softly,

“Tell me the truth, Y/N, I know you well to know that what he said couldn’t be true. I-”

Steffin was suddenly interrupted by Fabiola. She let out a fake laugh and said,

“ I think Mr. Henderson is telling the truth, Mr.Tomas. You weren’t here when Y/N threw herself at Mr. Styles, were you?”

“ Fabiola is right, Mr. Tomas”, Gabriella backed her up. “ It’s almost like she’s trying to fuck every hot guy.”

Aria, the long haired girl smirked at Y/N and raised her hand as if to gain Steffin’s attention.

“Yes, Ms. Bennett, you wanted to say something?” Steffin asked.

Aria replied with a smirk on her face,

“What I meant to say is that what Fabiola and Gabriella said might be true, I mean, Y/N’s toxic relationships are not a secret here. So, it’s good if you listen to Mr. Henderson.”

What the hell! Y/N had been in a relationship before, but it was long back in high school. She was dumbfounded by the hateful words thrown at her. What did she ever do to hear all this? She didn’t have any kind of grudge or anything towards anyone, especially those women.What had she done to make them this angry?

“Excuse me! What the fuck is your problem? Why the hell are you bitching about Y/N? She has been one of the best employees this company has had in a long time. Don’t you dare bring your personal problems or insecurities into this! I know for a fact that she would never do something like that; if he got a slap, he probably deserved it. ”, Jenna was infuriated.

Y/N felt a bit better that at least one person was on her side. Jenna was a good friend.

For some weird reason, she wanted Harry to support her too. She turned to look at him. His face held a stoic expression but his eyes told something else. He looked deep in thought. His fists were clenched on either side and she saw him gulping hard that his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. She was hurt to see him standing there without saying anything and letting them attack her. Did he not believe her? Did he think that she was a whore? That she was sleeping around? That she was trying to get in his pants? What if he thought -

Steffin’s voice took her out of her thoughts,

“You know what, Jenna is right. Y/N is one of the best employees here and her personal life or relationships are none of your business. So I would appreciate it if you’d stop talking shit about her and let her talk; or else, I'd be more than happy to give you your dismissal letter. So what do you want?”, he asked the three women. They couldn’t even look at Steffin, he looked serious.

Then he turned to Y/N and asked her, “What happened, Y/N?, You know you can tell me the truth.”

“It's true that I slapped him, Mr. Tomas. I was at the wash area and he tried to abuse me, mentally and physically. He asked me if I got the promotion by sleeping with people and tried to touch me.”, She said through tears.

“He what!?”Steffin was raging.

He turned around and yelled at Nathan, “Is this true? Did you touch her without her consent?”

Nathan let out a laugh and said,

“Do you really believe this slut? Stef, we’ve known each other for a long time, I did not do that. She was trying to seduce me. She’s a gold digger, that’s what she is. She-”

Nathan could not finish that sentence. Steffin had punched him right in the face. He took Nathan by the collar and growled ,

“Leave. Now.”

Groaning, Nathan asked him, “Dude, what are you talking about? I’ll forgive you for punching me, but what about our deal? You wouldn’t get a deal like this in your lifetime.”

“There’s no deal, you little piece of shit. Don’t make me call the cops for assaulting a woman. If you don’t leave this instant, you'll see my real face, and it won’t be good. Now get the fuck out.” Steffin spat at him in disgust.

Nathan stormed out of the office as if he was on fire. Once the environment became a bit more calm, Steffin told everyone to get back to work and called Y/N to his office.

“I’m really sorry that you had to go through that, Y/N. I apologize for what he did to you.” Steffin said quietly.

“No, it’s not your fault, Mr. Tomas. Thank you for believing me. I was scared that nobody would believe me”, she said.

“Why would you say that, Y/N? Don’t let those womens’ words get to you.I know you well enough to know that you would never do such a thing.” He consoled her.

“Thank you Mr. Tomas.” She gave him a genuine smile.

“I apologize once again, Y/N. Sorry that you had a very bad day, you could take the rest of the day off, if you want to.” Steffin said

“No, it's fine Mr. Tomas. I don’t want time off”, she said after contemplating the idea. Going home means she’d be alone with her thoughts and that’s not good. The failed tinder date and the words he said to her, the incidents in the office today, no, it won’t be good, she’ll drink till she can’t think straight; so staying here would be the better option, she thought.

She gave Steffin a weak smile and left his office.

—-------------------------

Y/N did not leave her office room that day. Jenna came around a few times. She apologized profusely, saying that it was her fault to leave Y/N alone after the meeting. Y/N told her it was not, but she was really mad at herself.

The rest of the day went smoothly, but to her dismay, she had to work a few extra hours with none other than Mr. Harry-I-don’t-care-Y/N- got- humiliated-in-front-of- me- Styles.She didn’t see him after the incident. She was so hurt by his reaction, or the lack thereof. But as time passed, her hurt was replaced by anger. Even though they were not friends, she was his colleague, wasn’t she? He could have said something; anything. Or did he think that she was a whore too? Either way, she knew that it was going to be really awkward. She felt angry at him, at herself and at everything.

—-------------------------

Harry had stormed off after Steffin had called Y/N to his office. He went to check the CCTV footage. He knew there was going to be solid evidence since Y/N had told everyone that the incident had taken place at the common wash area and not inside the restrooms. When he saw what had happened, Harry was pissed off, to say the least. He went back to the office and asked Steffin if he could take a few hours off. With confident strides, he left the office.

—-------------------------

Work time was almost over when he got back, the sleeves of his black button down rolled to his elbows, a scowl etched on his face.

“Harry”, he heard someone calling his name and turned around to see Fabiola, Gabriella and Aria waiting there.

“Yeah?”

“Are you free tonight? Care to join us for a couple of drinks?” Aria asked seductively.

Harry could physically feel the anger radiating off his body. But he did not want to make a scene. So he said,

“ Maybe some other time? Mr. Tomas has assigned me and Y/N a proposal, we need to work on it.Thank you for the offer though.”

Aria let out a chuckle. Harry frowned,

“Um, is there any problem, Aria?”

“No,no… we were just saying how she managed to snag that opportunity to work with you” Aria said.

“Yeah… I still stand by what I said, she was probably throwing herself at Nathan. I mean, who would even look at her?” Fabiola chimed in.

“ Harry, you don’t have to force yourself into doing this project with her, we’ll help you. All you need to do is just let us carry out our plan.” Gabriella had an evil look on her face.

Seeing Harry’s confused look, Aria butt in,“ Now ladies, don’t pester him, of course Harry would help us kick her out. After all, we saw that slut groping him today at the office. She is probably-”

“Shut the fuck up”, Harry shouted at them, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He didn’t care who he pissed off. His Y/N was innocent.

“What? Harry, we’re on your side”, Fabiola tried to make amends.

“I said shut up, okay? I don’t want anyone telling such lies about Y/N. She did nothing. If you have any doubts about what she said, just take a look at the CCTV footage of that wash area, no wonder she was traumatized, Nathan was an asshole.Just put yourself in her shoes, how would that feel?”

“Harry, we were-” Aria tried again.

He held up his hand to silence her, “I am not finished; if I hear one more nasty comment about Y/N from any one of you, I will do everything in my power to get you kicked out from this firm, understand?”

Without sparing another glance at them, he went back to the office.

He needed to make sure she was okay.

—---------------------------

Feedback is appreciated ☺️❤️

Thank you for reading.

Masterlist

Please let us know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mendesblurb

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goodgirlofglory · 4 years

Text

That which lingered on his mind / Chapter 1

Prologue - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+, Non-con, dub-con, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, smut, Graphic descriptions of violence, bondage (bound wrists), oral (f receiving), asphyxiation (choking), Cumplay, Some graphic descriptions of blood.

Chapter summary: Steve Rogers, Captain America and your former neighbor, used to harbour some secret feelings for you before he was turned into a Hydra asset. Now he’s come back to claim what he cannot rid himself of: his desire for you.

Author’s note: This one came to me a dark January night and hasn’t let me go since. This series will be about 7-8 chapters, so stay tuned! Not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine. My work is not to be distributed anywhere but my blog. Reblogs are welcome, though. And I so appreciate reading your replies and tags<3 hope you enjoy ;)

It started out as any other night. You had a cup of tea and scrolled through your phone for a while before a violent yawn told you it was time for bed.

It was a normal night.

Until you stood face to face with Captain America. Or at least, who you thought was Captain America. America’s hero and your former neighbor.

You had never really paid any attention to news about the Avengers or Mr. Rogers, and had never been one to socialize with neighbors. He lived across the hall from you and was quiet and polite, never drawing more attention to himself other than a smile and a curt greeting now and then.

That was until he disappeared off the grid about four months ago. It was all the news could talk about for a good three weeks. Gossip in the building also started flourishing. Where had he gone? What happened? Was he dead?

Apparently not, for there he stood, silent as the grave, inside your apartment, half shrouded in darkness, blocking your way to the bedroom.

You didn’t really know what his uniform used to look like either, but from what you could remember he used to have a star on his chest, and not the squid looking emblem he now bore. His face was also an unusual sight, jaw covered in a gruff beard, hair long and pushed back. But worse were the eyes; steely, cold and intent on you.

Had it only been good ol’ Captain America standing uninvited in your home you would have been scared. But this. This chilled you to the bone.

What the fuck was going on?

Your body froze as you stared at the man, who made no effort to speak nor move. Finally you found your voice.

“Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Please leave before I call the police.”

You tried to sound tough, but your voice shook slightly at the last word. He must have picked up on that, for his otherwise dead eyes gained a slight glimmer.

“Please do. Their deaths will be on your shoulders.”

A small gasp caught in your throat. You were starting to become terrified. This was absolutely not the Captain America you had seen on the news nor the Steve Rogers you had greeted in the hallway.

“Actually, don’t bother, you’ll never reach your phone,” he continued, sounding far too nonchalant for the ominous aura he was putting off.

Your eyes widened when you remembered leaving your phone on the living room table, all the way across the room behind you.

What should you do? Run for it anyways? Scream for help? You opted for a seemingly less provoking approach.

“What do you want?” you asked, tears starting to involuntarily form at the corners of your eyes.

His eyes seemed to darken somehow, setting themselves on you with deadly weight, piercing your soul.

“You.”

Your fight reflex kicked in before you could think, and you lunged for the front door across the living room behind you.

But you barely got a few steps in before a thick arm snaked around your waist and janked you back to hit painfully against a hard, unrelenting body. You managed to shriek in fear before a second hand, big enough to cover both your mouth and nose slammed down on your face and muffled your cries, knocking your lips against your teeth. You tasted blood.

You kicked, hit and scratched at your assailant's body, but gained only a mocking snicker in response. His mouth came down to whisper in your ear, sending ice cold shivers down your spine.

“Please, keep fighting, it only makes this more enjoyable.”

You sobbed into his coarse hand, tears springing free from your eyes, wetting the skin of his fingers.

He tsked

“Cuing the waterworks. He wouldn’t like that,” he breathed into your ears and tightened his grip on your face, effectively cutting off your air supply. You squirmed against his arms in panic, new tears falling, not managing to move him even an inch. His grip remained as tight as iron.

As your vision blurred and you slipped into dark unconsciousness, you kept wondering what he meant by “he”.

You awoke groggily, feeling the muscles in your arms ache as they lay over your head. You usually woke up with your arms thrown over your head, so it took a few seconds to remember what had happened.

When you did, your body surged upwards, but was promptly janked back against the bed. Looking up, you registered for the first time that both of your wrists were bound to the bedpost above your head, using the bondage ropes you had gotten as a joke a few years back. Looking down you saw that you were still fully clothed, with your oversized UNI t-shirt and cotton shorts.

The knot looked intricate and a few janks told you it was secure as well.

Your breathing started to race as you understood you were stuck, and a cry ripped itself from your lungs at the realization.

“Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a calm voice came from across the room.

“HELP,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, ignoring the man who sat in the chair in the corner. It felt good to defy him, if only for a split second.

He made no indication that your behaviour bothered him, his stare as even as ever.

“I will kill anyone who enters this apartment,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to endanger any of your good neighbors' lives. That’s not who he perceived you to be. I, on the other hand, have no problem killing everyone in this building if it helps you understand what is happening here.”

“And what the fuck is happening here exactly?” you snarled, still janking at the knot around your wrists, bound just a little too tightly.

He smirked at that.

“Feisty, just like I hoped. It’s more...fun if I can break you first,” he mused.

He got up from the chair and moved over to the bed. When he got close enough you kicked out at him, and you would have hit him right in the gut if he hadn’t caught your foot. Not that it would affect him, you bitterly thought after.

He looked almost amused before twisting your foot around until you shrieked in pain.

“Oh,” he cooed, “remember to be quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to come checking in on you, would we?”

He let go of your foot, and you recoiled in the pain that shot up through your body. A sob escaped your gritted teeth.

He snickered.

“Pathetic. But I do see the appeal.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your jaw in a harsh grip, making you look him in the eyes as he leaned in so close his breath brushed across your face. There was a slight hint of mint to it.

“What's happening here, sweetheart, is that I’m gonna get some things out of my system.”

His hand let go of your jaw and moved down to slightly encircle your throat, lingering like a taunting threat. Your throat constricted instinctively at the presence of his calloused hand. A smirk played at his lips as you squirmed under his light touch.

“I’m going to fuck you, Y/N”.

You thrashed at that, nausea setting in your stomach, your skin prickling as the words landed.

“No, no, no, please,” you started to mumble in your panicked state, janking more desperately on the knot around your bound wrists.

“Oh yes, and the more you fight, the worse it’ll be for you,” Steve smirked as he moved around the back of the bed and started to climb onto it, grabbing your kicking feet with ease, straddling your thighs.

Helpless to stop it, you watched as he took a fistful of your shirt in both his hands and ripped the fabric open, split down the middle, exposing your stomach and chest underneath. In the chilly night air your nipples hardened and goosebumps spread across your skin.

You saw the feral expression that grew behind his eyes.

He only hummed in response to your desperate whine, before letting a hand flitter up your hip.

His fingers stroked lightly up your torso, following every dent and bump, and you shivered at how soft it was in contrast to his earlier brutality.

Your breath hitched in your throat and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low murmur, smugness shining in his eyes, mockery dripping from his voice..

You shut your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, tears welling in your eyes, trying to quell the impulse to scream.

You had no doubt in your mind that no one in your building could overpower the super soldier, and you were terrified he would keep his word.

You couldn’t let anyone else die.

A painful tweak of a hardened nipple brought you back to the room, and you cried out.

“Don’t disappear now, I need you present for this,” he instructed in a patient voice, almost like you were a disobedient child.

He bent down then, and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth while his hands landed on either side of your head, caging you in.

The sensation of his hot and wet mouth in contrast to the cold air of the room sent sparks flying through your body and, more horrifyingly, down between your legs. You bit your tongue out of shame, and tried to squirm away from his wanton mouth. It took only a single hand of his on your chest to effectively pin you down as he continued his ministrations on your nipple, sucking, licking and teasing with his teeth.

He radiated warmth hovering over you like that, his hand a searing presence on your skin, no doubt feeling how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage.

His smell filled your nose, musky, with hints of smoked wood and cedar, and something familiar and sweet - your own perfume. Did he go into your bathroom? Did he use your perfume on himself?

His mouth moved up your chest and to your neck, and he was so close, so overwhelming.

You squirmed slightly at his approach, but noticed that in this position, pinned under his thighs like you were, the fabric of your panties caught on your core, dragging along the awakened skin, and to your horror you could feel the slick starting to gather there. You stifled a whimper, face burning with dread and newly bloomed shame.

His beard scratched your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“There’s that smell,” he murmured with a throaty sigh, “that smell he couldn’t get out of his head”.

What was he on about? Who was “he”?

Your mind raced with questions as his tongue started to lap at your throat, leaving open mouthed and sloppy kisses to your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes and tried to resist, tried to fight your body’s reaction to his stimulation, but as his teeth nipped at a particularly sweet spot, your whole body shuddered involuntarily and a small gasp escaped your mouth.

His face snapped up from your neck, piercing blue eyes finding yours teary and terrified - and no doubt dilated.

He straightened after a second, and shimmied off from where he was still stradling your thighs. As soon as your legs were free, you started kicking out at him, rage and defiance surging, trying and failing to hit him in the chest as he effortlessly caught both your ankles and gathered them in one hand.

He leaned forward, face smooth and emotionless, and landed an open handed slap across your face a second later.

Your head whipped to the side, and your breath left your body for a second as your head swam, a high pitched ringing filling your ears.

You gasped in shock, your whole body going stiff as pain spread from your cheek.

You had never been hit before, and especially not that hard. Tears sprang forth from your eyes as it dawned on you how utterly fucked you were.

“Let that be a warning,” he said in a calm voice, seemingly not affected in the slightest by the violence he was so willingly dishing out.

The fight was out of you for now, and you could only breathe through the sharp pain that lingered on your face as he moved in between your thighs.

Sitting back on his haunches he started to remove the tactical suit on his torso, impatiently ripping at the fastenings as his eyes never left your face, red, swollen and wet from your tears.

You averted your gaze, disgusted by him, disgusted by yourself, desperately trying not to reveal your body’s reaction to his.

When he was completely naked from the waist up, his hands turned to your sleeping shorts, removing them with deft haste and surprising softness before leaning back again, his touch leaving your body.

Several seconds went by without any action, and your curiosity gained the better of you. Turning your eyes to him, you found him studying your body. His face was as blank as ever, but his eyes betrayed some sort of sentiment you hadn’t seen before.

“He used to dream about you,” he said after a while, seemingly more to himself.

He bent forward once he realized you were watching him, caging you in again as he hovered over you, moving closer and closer.

Face still stinging from his slap, you didn’t dare move even a muscle as his lips found yours. It started slow, but soon he grew impatient, and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot, wet and dominating, moving languidly against your own.

Breathless and reeling, a small whimper left your mouth, and the responding groan that emitted from his throat rumbled through you.

While still moving his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands reached down and you felt the distinct calloused warmth of his touch to the inside of your thigh.

A small, panicked “no” croaked out of you, but he only swallowed it eagerly, not letting up his touch as it zeroed in on your core.

You could feel his fingers touching the cotton covering you, and by the breathy laughter he huffed against your mouth, he no doubt felt how wet it was.

“Oh, doll, I don’t think you’ve been completely honest,” he mocked as he leaned back again and looked down at your ruined panties.

You tried to hide your burning face in the nook of your elbow as he ripped your panties off before bunching them up in his hand and bringing them to his face. But his eyes caught yours in a steel grip as he inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a second before a pleased sigh left his lips.

You watched as his tongue swiped at the wet patch of the fabric before he put the panties in his pocket.

You thrashed at his obscene actions, nausea burning hot in the pit of your stomach, mixing with your undeniable arousal.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

As your mind raced against the reality of the situation, Steve laid down on the bed between your legs. His mouth attacked your pussy.

A squeak escaped your mouth, hands janking at the knot around your wrists as he started devouring you, mouth moving between your clit and weeping wound with urgency, almost desperation.

A full on groan left his mouth as he lapped at the juices that were steadily leaking from you.

His hands found your breasts and started teasing your nipples, and you tried to squirm away.

You needed him to stop, you needed this assault on your senses to cease, because you could feel your resolve burning away as sweet, untainted pleasure started spreading through your body.

Steve’s tongue swept up and swirled around your clit, and you tried inching away. One of his hands gave your breast a sharp slap before tweaking your nipple painfully again. Another warning. You headed it.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, but in contrast to the last time it almost sounded like he cared.

You shook your head weakly.

He chuckled against your mound and gave your breast another slap, sending jolts of pain through your chest.

“Don’t lie,” he warned, but there was surprisingly little malice in his voice. “But nevermind. This pretty, swollen, soaked cunt tells me all I need to know,” he said almost fondly before giving your clit a few licks.

“Give in, Y/N, I can feel how much you want to,” he taunted in between licks and all you could do was lay still and take it, new tears streaking from your eyes and wetting the hair at your temples as you squeezed them shut.

He was right. You couldn’t deny the pleasure he was wringing from your body.

“I’m going to stay still now, and you move however you want,” he said then, before doing just that.

Somehow, having him stop was more torture than what he had been doing, and your stubborn pride, your better judgement and the stinging feeling of violation that burned in your chest fought against your body’s sudden need for stimulation - for his stimulation.

Something in you snapped, and you tentatively moved your hips so your clit could find his tongue, stretched out waiting for you.

You shivered.

It felt good.

You rolled your hips again, more firmly this time, and the resulting swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bud of nerves had your breath leaving your body in a shaky exhale.

His hands gave your breasts an encouraging squeeze, before resuming their attention on your nipples, and you moved your hips with more fervor.

Before long you were grinding yourself on his mouth, breaths coming out in puffs as your eyes stayed shut, losing yourself in the hot feel of his tongue.

Desperation grew as you could feel that distinct coil tighten in your abdomen, and every draw of breath fueled the build up.

Not thinking anymore, you bucked your hips on him in repeated motion, lingering on the edge of the abyss, searching for that which would make the coil snap.

A desperate whimper left your mouth and as a response, a rumbling groan from his throat vibrated right through you and you fell head first into your orgasm, entire body shuddering violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream.

He was on you as you came down, lapping up your release and groaning as you trembled at the overstimulation. He was frantically groping at your waist and hips, strong arms and hands grounding you as you floated on the aftershocks of your high.

The moment the orgasm faded from your foggy mind, it fell in on itself.

How could you let yourself give in like that?

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind trying to escape the whole thing, if only for a moment, go far far away, go numb, go blank.

You weren’t allowed more than a few seconds reprieve, however, as you faintly heard him rustling around before you felt pressure at your entrance.

Before you had time to protest, Steve pushed his cock into you, giving a pleased huff as your body squeezed instinctively, drawing him in even more.

Your eyes shot open and met his - wild and pleased.

“There she is,” he said with dark glee as he breathed hard.

You fought to draw breath as your body seared with pain of the intrusion. His girth was more than you could take. It was all you could do to handle the stretch of his cock bottoming out, pushed inside you to the hilt.

“Feel that? Feel how your willing cunt is swallowing me like that, inviting me in?”

He started to move a second later, not giving you any time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that sent sparks of pain up through your body.

You cried out at the agony, nails digging into your own palms.

Above you, Steve growled as he bared his teeth at you, slamming his hips against yours.

His cock was rock hard as it speared you, and he only seemed to grow harder at your pained cries.

Through the pain and your strained whimpering sounds, you faintly heard him mumble.

“- all those incessant thoughts about you….never like this….if he only fucking knew...ripe for the taking, and the bastard didn’t as much as ask you out...”

His hand seized your throat as he stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, inhaling fervently. Hitched breaths was the only thing that escaped you at this point, as he kept up his torturing pace, abusing your pussy without halt.

“- That fucking smell in the hallway...never escaping it...fuck…gonna fuck those thoughts right out...”

Was “he” Steve? Was he rambling about himself? Or at least, who he used to be?

The pain had slowly subsided as you’d listened to the man’s crazed rambling, and a deep onslaught of pleasure was starting to make itself known with each punch of Steve’s cock. Soon your body started to tremble, and you fought against the coil starting to build again.

Steve shifted his hips to run his hands down your sides, and the new angle hit the spot deep within you that made your breathless.

Your mouth opened in a complete and utter moan, and Steve’s head snapped up from your neck, something akin to surprise in his eyes as he took in your face.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?” he asked, and his voice was thick with pleasure.

You tried to avert your eyes, but his hand shot up and gripped your jaw, pulling your face so close that your breaths mingled. His stare locked yours in an iron grip.

His thrusts slowed, and he rolled his hips, reaching deep, so deep inside you, and a pleasured sigh left your lips to fan across his lips as he found that spot again.

“Look at you. Steve would never think of you like this - he respected you. Little did he know you were a cock hungry little masochist,” he husked, pupils deep pools of dark desire. Your cheeks burned as you clenched around him at his words.

He grunted, letting his eyes fall close for only a second, and you noticed how his long and beautiful eyelashes fanned across his cheek.

“Let’s see how much you can enjoy this, huh?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as one of his hands reached down to where his body was rutting into yours, and his thumb found your clit.

You cried out as he started an unrelenting circling of the sensitive bud, and he mouthed at your jaw as he hummed in response.

In the back of your mind a small voice was telling you to fight, to gnaw and hit and thrash until he understood that you didn’t want this. Another voice was arguing that you would only be hurt further if you fought more. There was no getting away from his intent and no overpowering him.

A louder voice was whispering that it was okay to give in. Give in to the way he felt on your skin, the way he moved in you, the way he looked at you. Give in to the pleasure.

Your orgasm washed over you like a warm wave, spasming through every muscle as they sung with exhilaration. A shuddering groan left your lips and your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cock. He growled as he crushed his lips to yours, and you opened yours willingly, moving your tongue against his in a wet and sloppy kiss.

“Good,” he praised in a groan after breaking the kiss, and to your surprise, something akin to pride bloomed deep in your chest at his praise.

You were completely lost in the pleasure now, in the drag of his cock against your trembling walls, his musky og smoky scent and those blue, lust-blown eyes piercing you.

His pace quickened again, and you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that he was closing in on his own release.

“I can feel you fluttering, doll. Listen to the sounds this pretty pussy makes. Maybe I should keep you?” he mused darkly, a small wicked grin on his lips.

For a moment terror flashed across your eyes. Keep you? In the back of your mind the pain of your still bound wrists alerted you of the implications of that notion. Your cheek was still burning hot from his earlier “warning”.

As if he read your mind, he sneered.

“Take what he never had. Continue to take what he never had. Make you mine, let you have my cock every time I want, keep this tight pussy on a leash”.

You heaved for breath as his thrusts grew frantic, and he raised himself to his haunches, hands a bruising grip on your hips as he looked down at you.

Under the dim moonlight his muscles rippled, shining in a layer of sweat, his hair disheveled and falling into his face, and those eyes, forever shaking the bones in your body.

Your name ghosted on his lips as his brows furrowed and your back arched as your third orgasm seized you by every muscle in your body, your head thrown back in a desperate, strangled whine.

“Fucking shit,” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, and as your cunt pulsed around him, you drew his orgasm right out of his body.

He gave a few stuttering thrusts before stilling, thrust to the hilt inside you. Through the blood coursing in your ears you heard his snarl as he emptied himself in you.

For a moment his face completely stilled, eyebrows raised, eyes fluttered shut, mouth slightly open. In that moment, you swore you recognised your former neighbor, Steve Rogers, Captain America in those features.

But in a moment he was gone, and this Steve, whoever he was, was leaning forward to crush his mouth on yours.

Still coming down from your high, you eagerly opened your mouth for him in a rather intimate kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of your face.

You almost sighed at the softness of it all when his teeth caught your bottom lip and bit hard enough to draw blood. You yelped in pain as the iron taste filled your mouth and he let you wrench your way out of the kiss, snickering as he leaned back up and licked some of your blood off his lips. His eyes were wicked as he pulled himself out of you.

The emptiness he left behind was both a relief and a disappointment, even as your lip stung. You licked at the cut, wondering just what brand of danger had forced himself into your bed.

“God, what a sight,” he murmured above you, fingers dipping down to spread your nether lips apart as his cum dribbled out of you.

Embarrassment burned your face as he looked on, perverted astonishment painting his features.

Two fingers swiped your slit, gathering both of your releases on them before bringing them up to your mouth.

When you did nothing but stare at him, he simply whispered “open”.

You obeyed, holding his gaze, and he pushed his fingers slowly into your mouth. The mix of the iron of your blood, the salt of his cum and the tangy taste of yourself made your face scrunch up, and he hummed low in his chest.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, face emotionless but for the shining sin of his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, you nodded.

The corners of his mouth twitched up at that, approval coating his features.

“Oh, I’m gonna keep you, alright,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers down your torso.

As his fingers slowly caressed you, exhaustion drizzled over you, your vision blurred, and you fell into unconsciousness.

When you awoke, bright daylight was shining in through your window.

The soreness piercing your muscles was like nothing you had ever felt before, but the sleep had been even deeper, sitting like a pleasurable hum in your bones.

You remembered immediately what had happened in the night and was relieved to find that your wrists were no longer bound. The bruises, purple and pink, would probably last for weeks.

The ache deep in your core made your gut wrench in remembered dread, but somehow there was a feeling of anticipation there as well.

A quiet voice inside you whispered that you hoped he would stay true to his word, and come back.

Author’s note: Christ. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a blood kink brewing inside me.

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mi6-cafe · 3 years

Photo

WEEK 2 DRABBLES ARE HERE!

Now, let’s refresh your memory.

For the second week of LDWS, our true l- our writers were asked to write a drabble between 150 and 200 words, based on the word deck from the point of view of an outsider.

THEY DID SUCH A GREAT JOB!

(this is a purely illustrative gif of an outside observer of the goings on at Q’s flat, not a prompt)

READ THE DRABBLES AND VOTE!

hOW?

Read the drabbles & Pick three favourites!

Vote for them on this form!

Add some feedback for the writers!

That’s it! You have done your civic duty and voted!

Vote!

Read the drabbles below the line.

Title: Eulogy for the Aston Martin Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (mainly directed at vehicles) Summary: Around 007, life and death go hand in hand.

The moment I leave solid ground and fly, pointed directly at the deck of the ship, I know my life is forfeit.

I realize now why the other machines pitied me after I was assigned to the man they call 007. I see his blue eyes blazing as he concentrates, gripping my steering wheel. They say he’s careless, but judging from the few days I’ve carried him, I know different. He’s not careless. His destruction is calculated. Only once I was obsolete, once he depleted my ammunition, blew my doors off, and pushed my motor to breaking point did he make his decision: To use me as his missile.

I count the milliseconds as the deck rushes towards me. Without a word, 007 pushes the ejector button and I fling him out into the open air, out into safety and freedom.

I am to be his sacrifice.

Before I hit the ship to perish in a blaze, I decide: I have no use for resentment. Like so many machines before me, I have granted him life.

That must count for something.

Title: All In Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: Bond is handy with cards, and Felix likes to watch.

There are few things as satisfying as watching James Bond clean a table in poker. Felix has learned that pretty much the moment he's met Bond, and the entertainment value hasn't changed in the years that have passed.

On the contrary: Felix has learned some of Bond's tells. Not the kind of tells that would let him win against the insufferably unbeatable agent, but Felix recognises the spark that lights up in Bond's eyes, only seconds before he wipes the confident smirk off an opponent's face with a winning hand.

Another thing he can see is whether Bond enjoys the game for its own sake or just really hates one of the other players. He knows it's the latter when the opponent asks for a rematch and offers the deed to a hotel in lieu of liquid funds, and Bond agrees, provided that they use a new, unopened deck of cards.

The opponent blanches near imperceptibly, and Felix smirks into his drink. Oh, yes. Very satisfying.

Title: Voyeuristic Displeasure Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: seeing everything is not so fun

Bond's hands were big and rough, stronger than they had any right to be.

He had been observing them with varying degrees of interest over the years, stuck behind his computers or out in the field - air straining in his lungs with the knowledge that the other's life depended on how fast and how smart he could be.

He watched Bond strut along the deck, hand poised low on someone's lower back, head tilted down in a way that suggested he was focusing on whatever he was being told, seemingly enraptured in them - Bond played the part well but he knew what signs to look for, to spot the seams of the almost perfect façade: he darted glances around, favoring his right side, trying to keep under the eye of the cameras that he knew to be in friendly hands.

The hand slipped lower, fingers teasingly dipping beneath the edge of the brightly colored bathing suit his companion was wearing - shameless.

Almost teasing.

He stood up with a weary sigh, empty mug held aloft: he was going to need a strongly brewed cup of tea, if he had to watch Bond flirt his way into another bed.

Title: International Man Of Mystery Author: Merc / moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Some players never make it to places like Casino Royale. Others... acquire nice cars on the way.

She has encountered many interesting characters in her career, some more remarkable than others. Poker tends to attract extraordinary people. It isn’t always easily definable: something about this man arrests her attention the moment he walks up to the table, asking to join the game even though she’s already cutting the deck.

He flashes a cocky smile at everyone, reads his opponents like a professional, and pleads with her to let the unlucky Mr. Dimitrios bet his car to win his money back. She complies, amused. Such self-sufficient arrogance would be offending if not for his friendly politeness. The way he eyes the man’s wife is not mere casual interest either. Those intense ice-blue eyes have already seen every opportunity. His body language may seem relaxed, but there’s an awareness in his movements that hints at explosive potential underneath the calm surface.

For an exhilarating moment, she revels in being a part of this man’s story. It’s as clear as day that he’s used to playing for much higher stakes. She wonders what the real prize here is.

Dimitrios has lost again even before this stranger shows his cards. Men like him bend luck to their will.

Title: Crossroads Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: James Bond visits a fortune teller.

The man’s cold blue eyes look past Serenity as he steps into her fortune-telling tent, and she shivers. His aura is like ice, a vast glacier with life frozen deep down inside it. He reminds her of a mobster from some old movie, wealthy but brutal.

“What do you want to learn?” she asks.

“The future,” he says, distractedly. She follows his eyes to a bearded man standing at the high striker, speaking in Russian.

She shuffles her deck. “There are two paths before everyone,” she says. “This choice is yours.” She draws two. “First path - The Lovers, the Star. Companionship and connection bringing hope. Choose the Lovers' path, and you will find a new beginning. A second chance.”

“And the other?” he asks. His tone is flat and apathetic. He doesn't believe in hope.

She draws again. “The Emperor, the Hermit, both reversed. Rigidity and repression bringing isolation and misery. Choose the Emperor's path and you will end up alone.”

But the man is looking past her at the Russian, and he stands. “Thanks." A wry little smile. "But I think I already know what path I’m on.”

She watches him go. In his shadow, she sees the Emperor.

Title: Observation Deck Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: Mallory and Tanner contemplate employee relations.

Mallory surveyed the scene before him, sipping his scotch and trying, fruitlessly, to tune out the horrid rendition of 'Deck the Halls' playing overhead.

"We should do something about that," Tanner said, coming to stand beside him.

"About what?"

"That," Tanner replied, gesturing in the direction of Bond and Q. "Them."

The Quartermaster, decked out in a horrible Christmas jumper, looked exasperated. Bond, naturally, looked smug. They appeared to have entirely forgotten the holiday party happening around them as they argued. Flirted. Whatever.

"Trying to stop that from happening would be an exercise in rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic," Mallory said with a bemused smile. "Utterly futile."

"I don't want to discourage them," Tanner protested as Q cracked an unwilling smile at something Bond said.

"What, then?"

"A little push? Mistletoe? Lock them in a closet?" Tanner suggested hopefully.

"That might be construed as stacking the deck in your favor," Mallory observed mildly.

"You know about the bet?" Tanner spluttered as Q stole Bond's champagne glass and drained it to Bond's mock outrage.

"Spy," Mallory explained succinctly.

Tanner nodded wry acknowledgement.

They continued their silent observations a few minutes more, then Tanner asked, "What day did you pick?"

"April first."

Title: Nighttime Invasion Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: vague references to blood, swearing Summary: Q’s cat is not impressed by 3am visitors

Thunk.

A crumpled heap hit the floor. She hissed, tail bushy, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Oof!”

Gunpowder Man was invading her space.

Again.

“Q?” Gunpowder Man whisper-shouted. He sounded different. “Are you awake?”

Something dark dripped from his nose.

She sniffed cautiously. He stank of copper and salt. Still, it was better than the strong, sour reek of last time.

A light came on in Father’s bedroom.

Gunpowder Man lifted himself up and wobbled to the sofa. Walking on two legs seemed harder for him than usual.

“Bond?” Father came traipsing up behind him, making the room light up. “What the fuck? It’s 3 in the bloody morning. You couldn’t wait?”

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Gunpowder Man used the false-happy tone Father used when he tricked her into The Basket.

Another dark drip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Father tsked, petting Gunpowder Man softly on the shoulder. That should help; Father gave the best pets. “Why don’t I put the - Christ, Bond! What happened to your nose?”

“It’s not broken. She hit me when I told her I was staying.”

“I thought psychologists were meant to keep their cool,” Father sighed. “Come on, let’s clean you up.”

Title: A confession of a deck Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: James Bond would be lost without me.

I'd like to think that James and I are not just colleagues, but friends.

You know, we’ve been through a lot together. Cottages in forgotten lands, first-class casinos, important fights – I’d always been with him and helped him along the way.

But this game is different.

“That’s not fair, James,” the opponent says, watching his stack of cards.

“I’m not cheating, Q.”

The opponent snorts. “You may be the best player the MI6’s ever had, but even you can’t be THAT good, 007. Aces again? That’s not very subtle.”

“You were the one who said poker is just basic math and all about the art of reading people. So stop whinging and take off your shirt.”

Beg your pardon?

There is something disturbing in the air. I don’t think I want to give the good cards to James anymore. “Happy?”

The shirt falls to the floor.

“Immensely.”

The next round, Q loses his pants. I’m starting to think that this isn’t even about poker!

“I won.”

Finally, it’s over and I can relax again. Even though I’m not sure what this young lad can have that James Bond would be interested in… oh.

Title: Camouflage Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: None Summary: A certain agent and their partner are in the field. The local perspective.

Grace's eyes were drawn to her first customers on the deck overlooking the harbor. They were as unlike as could be but Grace would have known they were together with just a glance. The subtle leaning in, the eye contact, the briefest brush of a hand. Not honeymooners but the established kind of connection that took time and patience. The younger man was dark and slender and had a tan that was honey gold. The older one was broader and blond and that one sent tingles up her spine. Her brother and his military buddies were like that, poised and watchful. She didn't see a weapon but suspected he was armed. They'd arrived three days ago in a beautifully restored vintage sailboat, walking the less traveled portions of the island.

Passing Grace, Mimi muttered “Spies posing as tourists.”

Gracie scoffed at Mimi's imagination. What were they spying on here, conch recipes? Then a new boat dropped anchor. The blond saw it first and the dark haired one checked the tablet he always seemed to have before nodding and finishing his chowder.

The pretty sailboat pulled up anchor the next dawn and the new boat was found derelict two days later.

#10

Title: Missing Him Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Austen the cat watches as her human pines for the Blond One

From her perch on the living room sofa, Austen looks disapprovingly at her bespectacled human. He is out on the deck again, smoking and no doubt pining for the Blond One. He is a relatively new addition to the household and has been gone for several days now, as is his habit. Keats—that dummy—misses him, too, as he meows and gazes forlornly at the front door.

She herself is unsure of the Blond One, but she doesn’t like it when her human is all sad and distracted, reeking of cigarette smoke and unresponsive to feline overtures of comfort. She feels powerless to help him. How did one man become so essential to her human’s happiness?

Then a key turns, the door opens, and there he is. The Blond One dumps his bag in the foyer and heads straight for the deck, pausing only to give her a brief head scritch. She watches as he folds her human into his arms and starts grooming him in that strange way humans have, with their mouths fused.

She hears her human laugh, gladness and relief evident in his tones, and finally, she makes up her mind about the Blond One.

#11

Title: Origin of a Voyeur Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: There was a legitimate reason to start going through all the Q Branch security footage, dammit!

After the small accidental volcano destroyed lab 7b, no one could recall who’d last checked the fire suppression system. Exasperated, R pulled up the security videos in hopes of spotting someone. The recording of Q and 007 was entirely unrelated, but she just couldn’t look away.

Q had been helping Bond dress for some formal event, tuxedo carefully tailored to conceal the equipment Q was arranging around his body. The scene resembled a squire helping his knight, except...

R bit her lip at the way Q stroked his fingertips down the front of Bond’s suit to check the drape of the fabric, evading Bond’s hungry gaze with a sly little quirk to his mouth. Then Q leaned close, reaching around to run his hands over the back of the jacket, lingering a little over Bond’s well-proportioned backside before he sank to one knee and brushed along the sides of the trousers.

“There, all decked out,” Q murmured.

Bond reached down to cradle Q’s chin in his hand and Q looked up with a provocative lick of his lips, the heat almost visibly simmering between them. Bond took a deep breath, his fingers tightening, and Q ‘s eyes widened and then slid shut as he turned to brush his lips against Bond’s thumb. When Bond made a low rough sound, both Q and Rani swallowed at the same time.

Then the outer office door slammed and she hurriedly shut her computer down, blushing. But she saved a private copy first.

#12

Title: The Bet Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: Bets are made, there will be blood.

Oh, yes. It was going to happen. The tension was palpable in the room, yes he said palpable in his interior monologue. Just fucking get closer. Do it already. He was going to win that bet today by fuck. He leaned forward in anticipation, eyes locked on target. Yes. Yes….Keep going...almost….

*AH-OOH-GA!! AH-OOH-GAH!! AH-OOH-GAH!!*

Fuck, goddammit. Not again! He narrowed his eyes. There was no way another attack by water was happening. Dammit. Fake or not they were going to have to clear the god damned building. He sighed heavily as he turned sad eyes back to where 007 and Q had been quietly eyeing each other. They were gone. “What the fuck?” Where? There! The orange of Q’s cardigan turned a corner. He was not about to lose the 'THEY FINALLY MADE OUT DAY' be! He ignored the rest of Q’branch’s leads as they ordered the evacuation.

“Davis?”

Fuck. It was R.

“And just where are you going? Exit is that way.”

He turned with hunched shoulders to find R smiling at him. Her eyes flitted past him to where Q and 007 had disappeared to. “THAT bet will only be won when it’s officially my day.”

#13

Title: Specs and the Lady Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None. Summary: Louis has been a bartender for a long time, but occasionally patrons can still surprise him.

The Friday night crowd seethes around the bar in waves, laughing and calling out their orders. Louis has been a bartender a long time, which means he can keep up with the steady roll of vodka-tonic-scotch-and-soda-bottle-bottle-pint and still keep an eye on the floor for trouble.

Trouble like the man in specs and a loud jumper bumping into an over-drunk man in a worn football jersey, spilling both their drinks.

Specs’ mouth forms the word ‘sorry,’ but Jersey isn’t having it. He grabs Specs’ jumper, but before Louis can even call for Paul—their unofficial bouncer-bartender—a lady slides in between them, curly hair and cunning eyes, and pulls Jersey’s hand away.

Jersey shoves the lady, and viper-quick, she decks him. Jersey goes down.

Louis lets out a surprised laugh. The lady looks quite pleased. Specs looks exasperated, though Louis doesn’t know why; if he had someone like that in his corner, all squared shoulders and terrifying heels, he’d be delighted. Then again, from Specs’ half-laughing attempt at chastisement that carries in the surprised lull in noise (“Really, Eve?”), this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

“Just take Jersey out,” Louis bids as Paul moves in, “Specs and the lady are fine.”

#14

Title: Eyes on You Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: The Quartermaster is enjoying his afternoon and Bond is far too concerned about his garden.

She's good at her job. So good, in fact, that she's currently hidden from sight with her scope right on MI6's Quartermaster himself. He's sitting on the deck of his house, enjoying the sunny weather with a girly drink in one hand and a laptop resting on his thighs. He's typing furiously, paying no attention to his surroundings. All she has to do is take one shot.

Then, the sprinklers turn on.

She does her best to not make a sound even as her phone buzzes.

4:27 pm:

There are over twenty cameras on the property.

4:28 pm:

I suggest you get out of my hydrangea bush. James worked rather hard on the garden and he won't be pleased to find you there.

A click behind her — probably a gun. "You've ruined my garden."

She turns around and finds herself face to face with the legendary agent. She cringes. "I'm... very sorry?"

Bond does not look amused. "You're fixing this before you leave."

"You're not going to kill me?" she asks, heart pounding.

"Q wants you for his team." Bond sighs, looking more annoyed than anything. "Either you accept or I'll shoot you."

Well, it's not exactly a choice.

#15

Title: Over It Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical language Summary: Tanner is nervous.

Ferrying through the maze of the Thames tunnels was often a nerve-wracking job. More so when his passengers were nervous. More so when it was the Chief of Staff who was sitting across from him, restless, tap-tap-tapping on his cardboard box.

Tanner gave Jack an awkward smile as they docked, climbing the narrow ladder just as the Quartermaster stormed into view.

“I’m going to skin the twat alive, Bill!“ he hissed, making Tanner stumble to a stop. “Didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”

Jack grinned. Only one man could piss Q off that much.

Tanner sighed, resigned. “I’ll inform M-”

“Already did,” Q huffed.

"Oh?"

"Not risking my career for him again, Bill."

Jack dared a peek at the couple; the conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

Tanner blinked, once, twice, before seeming to come to a decision. He shoved the cardboard box at Q.

“Thought we could share breakfast, since our dinner last night was interrupted? Bad timing, of course- ”

"Bill,” Q said, and Jack saw the silver of a smirk. "I would love to."

Pulling a crumpled cigarette from under his heavy coat, Jack couldn't help but grin to himself.

MI6 and their drama.

Go vote!

#james bond #james bond fanfiction #drabbles #00Q #rare pair #ldws2021 #ldws 2021 #ldws

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emblemxeno · 3 years

Text

Triangle Strategy Thoughts #1

I’m really excited about this game so I wanted to write down my thoughts on plot, characters, gameplay, etc. for the demo. I’ll probably continue it when the full game comes out lol.

Spoilers for anyone interested in it. I’ll put everything under the cut.

Chapter 1

-Just from the title screen alone, the game is fucking gorgeous and the music is incredible.

-The backstory conflict is already believable and engaging. Resource disputes is a common topic in fantasy warfare, but that’s because it makes so much sense to fight over it. Very nice.

-Gameplay is easy to grasp immediately, though I imagine the isometric view might cause some newer players some confusion. Positioning is as key as they say, as back attacks let you do big damage, and you get a follow up if you attack when there’s an ally on the opposite side of the enemy.

-Side Stories to get extra information are a great way to include nitty gritty details without derailing the main story, if the player just wants to get on with it.

-Political marriage between Frederica and Serenoa. However, Symon (Serenoa’s father) suspects that because House Wolffort is just a bannerman house and Frederica is a Rosellan (which, as far as we know, are people with rose colored hair and most likely a race that’s discriminated against), that the marriage is deliberately being made between lower powers of the nations, so if Glenbrook and Aesfrost were to war, there’d be little collateral with the newlyweds to deal with. Frederica is very shaken up about this. Very interesting.

Chapter 2

-There are notes scattered throughout towns when you explore, and they build the world without overloading the main story with text dumps from characters. You can read or ignore them if you like, and the entire thing is very streamlined.

-Town exploration in general is very neat. No voiced dialogue, so you’ll have to pay closer attention, but movement is fast and sharp, and the NPCs feel more like actual people rather than ‘History Notes in Human Form’.

-Family drama in the Glenbrook Royal Family. Regna seems to be kind of a distant father, and a king who only pleases others (dignitaries and the sort) to keep his influence. At least that’s what Roland thinks. Roland and Frani butt heads a lot, and Cordelia seems to be stuck in the middle sometimes.

-Dragan getting drunk is something I never knew I needed, I love this man.

-Erika and Thalas are evil children. Their smug auras mock me.

Chapter 3

-Even from just the demo, the class promotions look fucking gorgeous, jesus christ.

-The Scales of Conviction and the Persuasion phase are pretty neat. The decisions you make rely on dialogue choices when you talk to characters to convince them. Getting extra knowledge from talking to NPCs during exploration and strengthening Serenoa’s convictions may unlock new choices you wouldn’t get otherwise. I’m eager to see where this goes. As for the first big choice, I decided to go to Aesfrost, and I was successful in doing so (in a 5-2 vote).

-OH SHIT Cordelia accused Frani of not loving their brother (Roland). I love family drama. I think he does care, he’s just battling with personal feelings vs. royal responsibility. But we’ll see how it turns out eventually.

-Gustadolph and Aesfrost give MAJOR Ladlegard and Empire vibes, what with it prizing freedom above all else. If people show aptitude and desire, they are given equal opportunity to go into any field they please, with no regard to background, gender, or social status. Naturally, I’m suspicious of nations like this, but I’ll keep my mind open.

-Serenoa, while talking to Frederica during exploration, said freedom and meritocracy don’t mix easily. Which is basically what I believe. Having the freedom of opportunity means nothing when you’re not guaranteed the necessities of life. Which is why Aesfrost is suffering from poverty despite having so many opportunities.

-I love all the characters in my party so far. They all have a use and I like that.

Conclusion

Very, very excited for the full game to release. Everything has been promising, and I can’t wait to see how it develops further.

#triangle strategy #square enix #serenoa wolffort #frederica aesfrost

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arts-and-drafts · 4 years

Text

Boogeyman

(Special thanks to @fluffy-papaya and @sweetest-honeybee for the design and concept of Boogeydubs! I hope I did him justice, but pls keep in mind this is just my interpretation of him 💗)

Bdubs furiously rolled around in his bed, praying that mindless sleep would wash over him like it had every night before. There was always a panic that struck his heart when the sun went down, a sort of unexplainable terror that gripped his soul with icy claws as dark and cold as the sky.

But it was fine. He was fine. He was just scared of the dark. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Everybody has fears.

But he doubted that everybody's fears manifested in a way that his did.

Bdubs knew as soon as he heard the low chuckle echo from under his bed that it was going to be a long night.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to will away the Thing that slithered out from below, as he knew it would. Bdubs buried his head into his pillow, breathing in the comforting smell of familiarity and peace that lingered to his faithful resting place. For a moment, his heartbeat slowed, and he began to calm.

Then ice cold fingers brushed his cheek, and he snapped his eyes open in horror.

The Thing grinned wider with horrible glowing teeth when it noticed Bdubs finally looking. "Good morning, Bdubs." It greeted sarcastically, its voice distorted and hollow.

Bdubs couldn't respond. He couldn't move. If it wasn't autonomous, he doubted he would even be breathing right now, as sharp and ragged as it was. He could only stare unblinking at this disgusting attempt of a doppelganger that sat at his bedside.

The Thing was pure black, an evershifting mass of shadow save for its face, which would look exactly like Bdubs' if he had sharp teeth and glowing green eyes. It only existed to taunt him, to torture it's host, only making itself known at night.

"You kept me away for a good while, Bdubs." The Thing purred, voice as oily as its form. "What changed, I wonder? Missed me?"

The Thing bared its teeth in a sly grin. "Or could it be that you were thinking of me?" The Thing asked, shifting into a demented copy of Scar.

Bdubs' breath hitched in his throat, but he still couldn't say a word as the Thing pranced around in his beloved mayor's form.

"You were always a disappointment, you know that, don't you?" The Thing continued, its voice now a distorted but very recognizable Scar's. "You were never useful. I only kept you around for the fans. I couldn't have them be upset."

The Thing leaned closer to Bdubs, putting a mocking smirk on Scar's lips. "You know how important the views are to me."

"Stop," Bdubs croaked, tears spilling down the sides of his face. The Thing somehow grinned wider, it's glowing eyes flashing with glee. "I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just relaying the facts. Can't you handle the truth, Bdubs?"

Bdubs' chest heaved with a sob that got trapped behind his teeth. The Thing backed away, again performing that pretentious strut around Bdubs' bed in Scar's body.

"I don't need you. You're only a minor nuisance that I deal with every day." The Thing sighed mockingly. "So goes the plight of the most powerful man in the shopping district, I suppose. At least I have Cub by my side." The Thing side eyed Bdubs with a smug smile.

Jealousy burned in Bdubs' heart, temporarily pushing back the fear that trapped him to his bed. It was gone sooner than a torchlight snuffed out, but something on his face must've informed the Thing that its words affected him.

"Touchy subject, Bdubs? Hm...there's something you wish to say?" The Thing taunted with a cruel smile, sitting on the foot of the bed. "Come now. You know you can tell your mayor anything."

"STOP!" Bdubs cried, wrenching himself free of the mental chains that froze him in place and leapt out of the bed, chest heaving from the effort. The Thing slid off the bed to pool on the floor in front of him, quickly rising and molding itself back into Scar. Its leering aura was very quickly changed to a menacing scowl; an expression that Bdubs was terrified to see on Scar's face, even a copy of one.

"You can never run from me." The Thing growled, dissolving back into Bdubs' doppelganger. "I am part of you. I AM you." It began walking towards him. Bdubs was frozen in place. "And now you're just wasting time. What would your mayor think?"

The Thing molded its face into Scar's once again, eyebrows knitted into a disapproving look. "You know how I HATE low productivity."

Bdubs stumbled away from the Thing, falling to the floor and clutching his head. "Stop it--stop it! You're not him!!" His face burned with regret and resentment, tears pouring from his eyes when he squeezed them shut so tight he became lightheaded. "Just leave me alone--" Bdubs choked out.

The Thing grabbed his shoulders from behind, it's claws so cold they felt like burning metal through Bdubs' shirt. "I'm always with you. I can never leave. Someone has to keep you in check." It hissed.

The Thing wrenched Bdubs' face up to look it in the eyes, it's claws leaving the skin numb where it touched. "After all, it certainly won't be you."

A pitiful cry escaped Bdubs' throat before he could swallow it. Deep down, he knew the Thing was right. He wasn't good enough for Scar. He couldn't hope to beat Cub. Nobody needed him.

The Thing shifted back into Bdubs, grinning again. "Now you're getting it."

The numbness in Bdubs' face suddenly grew white hot, pulling a strangled scream from his chest. He tried to rip the Thing's claws off his face, but his fingers stuck to where he touched, sending searing pain into his arms.

"I'm starting to get sick of reminding you. You don't even give me the time of night anymore." The Thing sneered at Bdubs, ignoring his sobs of pain. "So I've decided to stick around a little while longer."

The Thing laid a hand on Bdubs chest, feeling as though it had set him on fire. Dark tendrils spread out from the Thing's claws, and Bdubs could feel the darkness burrowing into his veins like a deadly poison, setting every nerve ending alight with agony.

Pain. It made him remember. The last time Bdubs was in pain, Scar was there, bandaging his legs after a nasty fall from the floating Eyes of Ender that covered the shopping district.

Scar was there for him. Scar helped him, looked him over with his gorgeous green eyes full of worry. Brushed off Bdubs' false words of being fine, helped him back to his office in the Town Hall to heal. Didn't leave his side until he was truly okay again.

Scar cared. The Thing was wrong about that.

Warm affection swelled in his heart despite being in excruciating pain. But as soon as it did, the Thing drew back as if it'd been burnt, halting the process of assimilating into his host. A split second of bewilderment crossed it's face, but it was enough to affirm Bdubs.

Bdubs staggered to his feet, clutching the fabric over his chest where the pain was still very raw. He heaved breaths of relief and excursion, standing taller to face his nightmarish counterpart.

"You're wrong," Bdubs gasped. The Thing bared its teeth like a cornered animal, it's glowing eyes narrowed to angry slits.

"Scar--Scar doesn't think I'm useless. He--that's what matters. You can say all you want but it won't mean anything!" Bdubs spat. He fruitlessly wiped the tears from his face, but more replaced them just as fast.

"You--you can screw off." Bdubs panted. The Thing snarled and took a step back, it's form shifting more incomprehensibly.

"Go back to the--the nightmare world you came from." Bdubs said. There was no bravery inside of him; just a defiance. If denying that Scar cared for him was denying the truth, then call him a liar.

The Thing must have noticed Bdubs change in thought. It took another step back, lowering itself to all fours. "You'll realize one day." It provoked. "I don't care how long it takes."

"I'll be waiting." Bdubs growled, tightening his grip on his shirt. He was shaking and sopping wet from sweat and tears, but his resolve was stronger than diamond armor. The warmth of love burned in his soul, soothing the pain of the Thing's attempted possession.

The Thing dissolved into a puddle and zoomed back under the bed, leaving Bdubs alone in silence.

Bdubs shakily sat down on a block of scaffolding, finally giving himself time to breathe. He leaned his head back to rest on the cool cobblestone wall, closing his eyes to let the last of the tears fall.

After several minutes of recovery, Bdubs slowly retrieved his communicator.

[BDoubleO100] Scar, can we talk?

[GoodTimesWithScar] Sure? You're not sleeping, everything okay?

[BDoubleO100] That's what I want to talk about. Can you come to my base?

[GoodTimesWithScar] Of course <3

Bdubs felt a soft smile tug at his lips. He was exhausted, but at the same time never felt farther from sleep.

#i can't draw so I'm doing this instead :'')#angst #hermitcraft fic #scardubs #kind of??#meraki post #queue #boogeyman

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lovingrosewho · 4 years

Text

Purgatory

Hello again! Long story short, previously I had watched Supernatural until the very beginning of season 12, because I found out what happened at the end and at that time, I just knew I wouldn’t be able to take it. Now that I’m rewatching the whole series I figured I’d might as well just keep watching what I didn’t anddd it hasn’t been much easier haha, I cried a lot and immediately started writing this, even before reaching the end of S12, so yeah that’s how bad I wanted my heart not to ache as much. Anyways, for those same reasons, I didn’t know about “the Empty” and perhaps a few things don’t make a lot of sense but I tried them to, sooo, hope you enjoy :-) Plus, some usual disclaimers: English is not my first language, any feedback is welcome, etc. <3 Ly all <3

ONE SHOT

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Rating: T.- Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.7k+ words (yes, I got a little carried away)

Summary: you somehow get trapped in Purgatory and find Crowley

Warnings: SPOILERS AHEAD, SET AFTER SEASON 12, veeery slight smut, nudity(?), cursing

You don’t know how you got here. Everything’s dark. Like, pitch dark. The sounds are terrifying; growls and screams all along, sounds of beasts. The smell of blood and death ahead.

Come on, think. What’s the last thing you remember? You were under a witch spell. Scratching and killing any single thing that got on your way. You had claws.

You begin to walk, but the creak of the dry leafs beneath you is noisy around here, red eyes surround you and you’re forced to run in the only direction that seems viable.

Legs trembling, you reach a clear spot between the woods. Where are you?

“Hello darling” a voice with a british accent behind you startles you. You turn around ready to fight. A man in a ragged suit, covered in dirt and blood raises his hands in surrender “Relax, I’m not here to fight”.

“Who are you? Where am I?” you demand taking a few steps backwards. He gazes at you curiously.

“You’re... well, we are in Purgatory, love” he reveals and you freeze.

“No... no that can’t be right” you mumble, more to yourself than to him “Humans don’t go to Purgatory”.

“That’s exactly what I was wondering. Fancy explaining?” he says in a smug tone. You eye him untrustfully.

“Who are you?” you ask a second time. He looks impassive.

“Name’s Crowley. Who I am doesn’t matter” he answers cuttingly “What matters is... how and why did you get here?

You shift uncomfortably, laying your weight first in one foot and then the other.

“A witch casted a spell on me. I don’t remember much after that... just that I... had claws, and fierce, sharp teeth” you explain careful not to reveal too much information.

“Ah, yes” he nods and chuckles slightly “Nasty spell, that one. Never figured it sent you to Purgatory being a human, though”.

“Me neither, must be the type of spell” you murmure, when you hear sounds coming from the woods again. Crowley takes your hand.

“Come with me” he says, and with little to no other option, you accept nervously and start walking right behind him.

You’ve been a hunter your whole life, that is, until you stopped a year ago. You were tired, of the running, of death following you around, of the loneliness. But of course you never knew when, nor how, to fully stop.

Crowley and you walk in silence, but the foggy ambiance and the sad landscape begin to make you uneasy.

“How long have you been here?” you ask him, voice almost echoing amongst the trees. A few crows on the distance take flight and their croaks reach your ears, making you shiver.

“Time doesn’t exist here” he explains after a few seconds “I don’t know how long it’s been”.

You nod quietly.

“Why are you helping me?” you sincerely wonder. He stops dry and turns to you.

“Am I?” he asks back, eyes in a little bit of annoyance. You shrug and he sighs, suddenly a dull aura washes over him “I’ll explain when we are somewhere safe. We’re almost there, just, hang on for a little longer, Pet”.

You accept and start walking again, when you hear a strange hiss. Sideways, you get to see a vampire aiming for your neck. You hit it with a branch near you, but in response it throws you across the woods, hitting your back with a tree. Pain strikes you out, you’re barely able to get up, the adrenaline of hunting coming right back to you, ready to keep fighting, when Crowley beheads it from behind with a machete.

“My, my. What do we have here?” he says in amusement, eyeing you “I know that look. That pose. You’re a hunter. I knew no common human could take that lightly being killed by a witch and going to Purgatory”.

Before you can even answer he grabs your arm, prompting you to keep walking.

“Easy there love. If that one found us, that means there’s more to come. We’ll chat when we’re safe” he states and you nod, following him.

You don’t know how much time passes. It feels like ages walking. Everything starts to look the same. You and Crowley reach a darker area.

“Does this mean it’s sundown?” you ask innocently. Crowley chuckles.

“No. Nothing like that. There’s no such thing as sundown here. Everything stays the same. There’s no day nor night” he explains “No, this place is just where I come to get some rest when I can. It’s usually lonesome, but I try to keep moving anyways”.

“It’s weird but...” you begin “I don’t really feel sleepy... I’m tired yeah but-“

“We don’t sleep here. We keep moving, fighting, killing. That’s the punishment” he says while climbing up a tree, not bothering to look at you “Come with me”.

You sigh, and follow him once again.

When you’re both far up enough, there’s no other option than to lay as close as you can to him, so neither of you fall down. You cuddle up in his chest. He doesn’t say a word as you do so, just slips an arm behind your waist so you don’t lose balance.

“So” Crowley finally speaks “A hunter”.

You sigh once again.

“Retired. Sort of” you try to tell and he chuckles.

“I have it on good source there’s no such thing as a ‘retired’ hunter”. He’s not wrong.

“Yeah well, that was exactly my problem” you say, closing your eyes for a second, but damn you, you can’t feel sleepy not even trying “Name’s (Y/N), by the way. You never asked”.

“I figured you wouldn’t tell me if I asked” he guesses and you half smirk “I’m planning on keeping the nicknames either way”.

You roll your eyes.

“Never told you not to” you tease and now he’s the one to half smirk “Who’s your ‘good source’?” you ask changing the subject.

“The Winchesters. You must have heard of them”. You’re not quite sure but it seems to you there’s a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

“Doesn’t ring a bell” you confess muttering, the darkness suddenly weighing on you. You cuddle up to him even more.

“It doesn’t?” he interrogates incredulously “That’s... weird. To say the least”.

“Very” you agree. You thought you knew every hunter in the country.

“They’ve stopped one or two little Apocalypses” he tells you. You laugh lowly.

“I’m guessing you were good friends” you assume, and you don’t know it but Crowley’s heart breaks a little.

“More like archenemies” he reflects after a few moments, but you don’t believe him for a second.

“You’re not serious”.

“Deadly”.

You stay quiet with this last statement and opt to stay silent in his arms, as the minutes pass.

“I think I can help you go back” he murmurs. You frown.

“How?”

“I don’t know much, but the same good source... told me there’s a way out. A portal back, if you will”.

“That’s just a myth” you say, a sparkle of hope shinning through nonetheless.

“It got them out” he says, referring to his friends.

You huff and shrug shortly afterwards.

“Well if you’re gonna help me go back” you talk distracted drawing circles in his chest “You can get back too right?”

“I don’t know if it works for demons”. You gasp, you thought he was just a common... well, human.

“Demons don’t go to Purgatory” you mumble, which makes him exhale absently.

“Apparently I did”.

His confession puts you in alert, you still don’t understand, but you know now’s not the time to discuss it, now you need to survive, and that’s not going to happen without Crowley. You’re tired, confused, and besides, at this point, being dead, in freaking Purgatory, you couldn’t care less about what he is.

Your body begins to feel drowsy, you haven’t closed your eyes at all and the lack of movement feels paralyzing.

“Ready to get moving love?” Crowley asks you when he feels you shifting. You nod and disentangle yourself from him, slowly getting down the tree.

What seems like days, or maybe even weeks, you spend it together. It’s getting tiring. You’ve found better weapons but it feels as if you’re just walking in circles. Maybe you are. You enjoy Crowley’s company, but there had been hunts, or more like survivals, you’ve been about to give up. He has noticed and has saved your ass more times than you could count.

“I can’t do this anymore” you tell him one day while you’re next to a river, getting freshed up. He sighs.

“We’re almost there (Y/N). Humans don’t belong here. The portal will spit you out the moment we get to it” he explains carefully.

“And I suppose you want a ticket out” you mock but he looks you in the eye, dead serious.

“I don’t expect you to take me with you” he admits and takes you by surprise, his expression makes you gulp so you nod silently. He sighs again “I’ve done horrible things, love. Things you can’t even imagine. I’ve killed, I’ve kidnapped, I’ve tortured”.

“But you’ve changed” you dare say, a slight smile appearing on his lips “I love it when you smile”.

This time he grins naturally. You’re about to say something else when two asteroids of black mud drop to the dirt right next to you.

“Bollocks” Crowley mutters “(Y/N) run!”

You start seeing how the strange goo takes human form, whilst you step backwards to stand behind Crowley.

“Go for the head” he indicates quickly, before whatever the things that you’re facing come right at you.

You fight until they are beheaded on the floor. Crowley takes your hand, moving you away from the scene so no more of those find you.

“What were those?” you say as Crowley pushes you to keep moving, your eyes in shock looking at the scene.

“Leviathan. I’ll explain later, now we’ve gotta run”.

You reach a safe spot in the woods and cover yourself in leafs as camouflage.

“Crowley” you mutter almost inaudible “What the hell?”

You are laying next to each other, his body almost melting in yours because of the need of heat and compact.

He begins sighing, and tells you all about his life. His time as a human, as a demon, the Winchesters, Apocalypse, the angels, leviathans, him as a blood junkie, the need of love, of comfort and feelings.

You listen expectantly, you had never thought you’d see that side of Crowley.

He finishes the story telling you about Lucifer and the Cage, how his ego, and his need for revenge, wanted to win, to see Lucifer suffer.

“So... King of Hell huh?” you mock, speaking when he’s done, he just huffs playfully “But neither of those things were all that made you sacrifice yourself, were they?”

He chuckles and shakes his head lightly.

“I’d like to think after that the Winchesters finally saw that I was on their side” he admits “There was a time you wouldn’t see me fighting, I would be the one to witness the fights and do nothing... maybe God is punishing me for that”.

“Maybe...” you say “Damn it. I should’ve quit hunting when I could”.

Crowley chuckles.

“Why are you telling me this anyways?” you continue timidly.

“I’m getting you out of here, (Y/N). I figured, we’re just a few more hours until we get to the portal... what is a little more softness from my part?”

“Why?” you still demand “Why would you help me if there isn’t anything in it for you?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do” he says with a serious face.

You keep talking for a while. You tell him a bit about your life, hunting, family, friends... and he listens attentive, stroking your hair as the words come out of your mouth.

Afterwards, you stay silent, leaving the conversation at that. It’s been a few rough days (if you can call that days), and you two have shared more than enough to each other.

“(Y/N)...” he calls your name quietly “Before we leave, there’s something I need to do”.

“What is it?” you say lifting yourself up a bit to look him in the eyes. His scruffed beard almost grazing your chin, his eyes looking at your mouth.

“Care to guess?” he says as he catches your lips in a gasp, you part them and begin exploring his mouth, letting his tongue dive into yours, deepening the kiss.

The heat is consuming the both of you, desperation and need for contact, for love, catches you two off guard, wandering for more. Your hand roams across his chest, grabbing him and closing any single distance existing in between, and then travels to his crotch. His on the other side, moves to your hair and pulls you to him, his other hand tightening on your waist, an eager grasp, but he stops you right there.

“(Y/N)” he says softly “I... we can’t”.

“Why not?” you say confused, still kissing his neck and jaw.

“We could get killed” he explains holding you gently, making you look at him “We need to keep moving, we’re almost there”.

“What if I never see you again?” you ask, voice cracking. He gives you a light, sad smile.

“Hopefully, you won’t” he jokes, embracing you tightly. Sideways, you get a peek of what you think it’s a tear leaving his eye.

You get up feeling heavy. This place has weighed on you but so has the fact that Crowley seems decided to stay behind, and you’ve come... to love him, actually.

A few hours walking pass. The forest is in absolute silence, monsters just in the distance.

Suddenly, an electromagnetic force starts calling your senses, you feel drawn to it.

“We’re almost there” you tell him, knees beginning to feel weak after all the walking, the fighting. You feel like you’ve been swimming non-stop all this time and just now you are about to touch mainland. Crowley smiles and nods, sensing you’re probably right.

Finally, the portal appears in front of your eyes. Blue, electric lights, the end of the tunnel.

Crowley stands close behind you, waiting for you to go, suppressing the need to cry and scream and curse at watching you leave.

Unexpectedly, you turn to him and grab his hand, pulling him with you.

“You’re coming with me” you tell him with one foot on the other side of the almost closed portal.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?!” he yells “You don’t know if it’ll work!”

“I have to try!” you yell back almost in a sob, and with one last pull, Crowley’s inside the portal with you, it closes instantly and spins you around for what seems like eternity.

You wake up in a field in the middle of nowhere. There’s no road, no signs, no nothing. And Crowley is nowhere to be seen.

“Damn it!” you scream at the sky in tears, realizing the portal must’ve bounced him right back at Purgatory. Or maybe even some place worse.

“Quite the temper, haven’t we?” a voice coming from behind some bushes startles you.

It’s him.

You can’t believe it.

It’s really him.

“Crowley!” you say running to him. He picks you up in his arms and hugs you as if he hadn’t seen you in decades.

“Hello, darling” he greets softly leaving you on the ground, wiping the tears off your cheeks with his thumb.

“I thought I’d lost you”.

“Well, no. Apparently you’re not so lucky” he mocks and you laugh, smacking him lightly on the chest.

“So” you start “What now? Can’t you use your demon powers to zap us out of here?”

He makes a thoughtful face for a second and then shakes his head.

“I think they’re gone” he confesses.

“What do you mean gone? As in gone-gone?” you interrogate in surprise.

“Yes as in gone-gone” he admits rolling his eyes playfully “I don’t understand why I...”

“Maybe you’re getting a second chance” you tell him with a grin, which he returns but it’s not quite sure about “Whatever, we’ll... we’ll figure something out”.

Now’s the time to keep walking, this time hand in hand, no weapons needed, until you find the main road and manage to sneak into the back of a truck.

When you get to the civilization, you politely ask some woman on the street if you can use their phone to call some pals. They send you some cash so you can go back home.

You get to your apartment after what appears to be a lifetime, though your friends tell you it’s just been four months since they last heard from you.

Both you and Crowley strip out of your dirty, ragged clothes and get into the shower together, washing down the dirt and blood, but it’s more than that, it’s a new start.

You get Crowley a towel to dry himself, which he does with you sitting on his lap, drying yourself as well.

“What’s next, Kitten?” he asks when he’s finished, wrapping his arms around your waist, seeing as you drop the towel to the floor.

“Well no more hunting, for starters” you declare and he chuckles “Apart from that, I have no idea”.

You stop to think for an instant.

“Does this mean you’re entirely human?” you ask shyly. He looks at you, a mix of fear and hope in his eyes.

“Shall we find out?” he interrogates and you nod, placing your hand to his chest, relaxing the moment you sense his heartbeat “Go get the holy water, Pet. We should be sure anyways”.

So you test him with holy water, salt, a demon trap, and even a demon knife you had laying around. He’s human.

The two of you grin lightly and stay embraced for a while in the couch, taking in the scent of the other, still naked.

He stays quiet for a bit, but then clears his throat and speaks again.

“Do you mind if I use your phone to call my... Moose and Squirrel?” he asks, tone a bit shy.

“Be my guest” you say smiling, lifting up from him so he can put an oversized old robe you had on and call his friends.

You hear some rings through the phone.

“Funny” he says lowly “Says none of this numbers exist”.

“What?” you say frowning “Try again”.

He does but the machine keeps telling him the same.

“Well, maybe they ditched their phones?” you presume “They’re hunters, wouldn’t be uncommon”.

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t” he reflects.

“Have you got an address?” you ask “If the Impala hasn’t been stolen, we could pay them a visit”.

He nods still a bit confused.

“The Impala?” he questions carefully.

“Yeah, my car”.

He goes silent again, but sighs and shrugs shortly afterwards.

“Do you have any clothes that’ll fit me?” he says doubtful.

“Yeah, I must’ve somewhere”.

You look through the drawers and find some men clothes. Must be from a friend, or an ex-boyfriend or something.

“Hopefully this’ll fit” you say handing him over a pair of black jeans, plain black t-shirt and black shoes. He sighs.

“We’re going shopping after this” he declares starting to change, you laugh and roll your eyes.

When you hit the road, the address he gives you seems oddly familiar, but you decide not to ask questions just yet, and instead wait to see what happens.

You feel safe with him on the road. His hand on your knee while you drive and his absent stare on the highway.

You get to the place and... you weren’t wrong, this is your old grandparents house.

“Crowley...” you begin as he gets out of the car and towards the door “What are we doing here?”

“We...” he says as he tries to open the door, and can’t but notice this place doesn’t look quite similar to what he remembered, and it hasn’t even been that long. You frown and take out the old keys to open the door. He stares at you in shock.

“My grandparents used to live here. Men of Letters and all” you chuckle opening the door, Crowley has gone silent. You turn on the bunker’s lights and inhale the book and dust scent.

“This whole time, it was you” he acknowledges but you don’t understand.

“What do you mean me? What are you talking about?”

“I think... I think the portal bounced me to another dimension, to your dimension, just like I was telling you” Crowley tells you after putting two and two together.

“Oh” you finally understand “Oh”.

Inevitably, your heart fills with worry. You don’t want him to leave.

You get back to the car and just sit there, trying to process what just happened.

“We should go back to you place” he mutters after a while “It’ll be easier to decide what to do”.

You nod and start the engine on.

When you’re back at your apartment, everything feels kind of different, there’s a heavy tension coating the room.

“I’m gonna change into something more comfortable” you state heading for your room. When you’re stripping out of your jeans, Crowley enters your bedroom as you put some pajama shorts on and losing the bra without taking your t-shirt off. When he sees you, he walks slowly over you and with a playful look pulls you to the bed with him. You begin to stroke his hair while he’s laying on your chest.

“Crowley” you mumble, unsure about what you’re about to say “Maybe we can find a way back. To your friends I mean”.

“Who says I wanna go back?” he says frowning “I was tired of having a bunch of demons on my tail the whole bloody time anyways”.

“But aren’t you going to miss them? Sam and Dean? And Castiel? And your mother?” you say worried, it’s not like you are pushing him to leave, it really isn’t, but you don’t want him to stay if that means he won’t be happy. He already knows that.

“Mother is dead as far as I know, as for the other three Hardy boys... they’ll do just fine without me” he says a bit nostalgic but giving you a genuine smile “Besides, I have you now, haven’t I?”

You smile back and nod.

“Then I have everything I could possibly want or need right here” he declares, turning to kiss you

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