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prettymase · 9 months ago

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Meant To Be

NOTES: This fic is completely newly written and I haven’t written in ages but I hope this is good enough. Before you get into it I want you to know that some parts of the fic are quite personal to me and I was contemplating on whether to add or not, but I have included TW warnings. This fic had also been requested by my love @footiehoemcfc I hope you enjoy reading it babe. There will be a part two to this but I wanted to get the first part out first bc I’ve left @footiehoemcfc waiting too long for this 🫶🏼 ✨

WORD COUNT: 4.9k words

TW: mentions of car crash, drunk drivers

You promised yourself that you would never be in this situation.

This is the kind of situation you told your best friends to avoid. It’s basic girl code, telling them not to be stupid in going back to their ex. You know it never ends well. Most of the time anyways.

Most of the time they end up falling for their bullshit and then that causes them hurting even more.

You know right now, you are a dumbass.

Your relationship with Mason ended shortly after Christmas.

It’s bad enough you saw it coming but you didn’t expect it to happen quickly after Christmas as the way he broke up with you, you thought he would want to mend things. Things that haven’t been easy in your relationship the last few weeks. You thought he wanted to apologise for being a dick.

Before the World Cup, you both knew the relationship was falling short. However, you were determined to make it work. No matter how had you tried, you couldn’t afford losing him.

You tried to support him in every way possible. Travelling to Qatar, showing your moral support. You also suggested couples therapy, tried to get him to talk about his feelings he was keeping inside. And everything else that was on the list. Making you feel useless at times.

Mason however, wasn’t having any of it. He liked to feel like he could take care of himself. He knew he was pushing you away and he didn’t want to but this is what it has come to and he can’t stop himself now.

In Qatar, there wasn’t much you could do with him not being able to see everyday with the World Cup consequences. Which you understood. You tried looking at the positives, maybe time apart from you would make him realise how much he misses having you around and helping him out. You thought he would he would take his time to think about how shitty he has been with you the last couple of weeks leading up to the World Cup. To your surprise, it was the complete opposite. Mason came to the conclusion it would be better if the two of you went separate ways.

The night you two broke up, well when he broke up with you, always replayed in your head.

“I think we should break up,” Mason started to say, showing no emotion on his face whatsoever.

“What?” you definitely wasn’t expecting this.

He had planned a a nice romantic evening or so you thought. The dinner table was elegantly decorated, with rose petals and candles around the table, with two glasses of wine, which you dismissed because you didn’t feel like drinking.

You thought the best of things, thinking that he’d apologise for his behaviour these last couple of weeks. Instead he did all this to break up with you.

“I want you to know don’t think I don’t love you because I do, it’s just the things that’s happening this season, I can’t love you the same when I’m feeling like shit.”

“You’re having one bad season and you’re throwing me out of your life?!” You asked confusedly and annoyed. “You’ve had problems before but this was never the solution!”

“Y/N you don’t understand. This is my life, I have to try and help and the tea-”

“This is not your life!!” You snapped. “It’s what you do for a living, big difference Mason.”

‘It is now okay?! Everything else seems like a distraction!”

“I’m a distraction? Your girlfriend who has been trying to help you for weeks is a fucking distraction? Are you fucking kidding me?” That hurt. It hurt how little to no appreciation he showed for your effort. The tears that you tried to hold in just fell. Maybe it could’ve been from sadness but now you were just mad.

Mad at him.

“Baby,” he sighed trying to ease the tension. Both of you had arguements before but it was never like this. He’s now thinking of throwing the years you had together, which you thought of convincing him to not to do this but it was useless and once he makes his mind up there’s no going back.

“You have no right to call me that anymore. You’ve clearly made up your mind.” You snapped.

“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t word that right. But you need to understand me.”

“Understand what? That your job is more important than me and everything else in your life? That all the things I’ve done for you in the past meant nothing? Our relationship was for nothing? And that I mean nothing to you?!” You managed to say In between your sobs that you have been keeping in for too long, and this was your thirteenth reason.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Mason stepped closer to you and tried to hug you which you refused at first, but you always found yourself giving in, in the end. This could be your last hug ever so you wanted to treasure it. Wanted to get close to him. Wanted to smell his aftershave that was lingering on his clothes. Wanted him to run his hands up and down your back for comfort.

All for the last time.

You could feel his tears dropping on your shoulder. This couldn’t have been easy for him too. Although you know he’s doing wrong but you also know the past year hasn’t been the best for him and no matter how much this is hurting you, you also know he’s hurting too. “I’m so sorry, my love. I know you think this is easy to do but i promise you it’s not. I love you so much and if it’s meant to be I’m sure we’ll find our ways back to each other soon.” He pulled away from the hug and held the sides of your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingering on your forehead a lot longer than anticipated which relaxed your mind for a second.

“I’m going to go gather my things and go.” You sniffled.

Mason just nodded in response and let you get to it. You go into your shared bedroom, where you gathered most of your things, one thing that made you break down instantly was your scrapbook you made for his 21st birthday. It was his first birthday you celebrated with him and it was special too, so you wanted to make it memorable. You flicked through the book where you come across the first page which was the first picture you took together, him positioned behind you, his head buried in your neck while you looked so happy. The happiest you’ve been in a long while, you forgot what that felt like.

This book was meant to be what you show your future children, but you didn’t get that far ahead. You hesitated in whether to take it or leave it with him. However you decided to take it with you as you felt like he wouldn’t look back at it.

Once you finally got your things together, you looked back at your shared room which was now Mason’s for one last time. The good times you had in there would be looked back at for sure, at least for you anyways.

Mason who was waiting for you to be done was on the sofa, his head in between in his hands. When he saw you were coming out of the room he offered to help with your luggage but you refused.

“You can stay here for a little while once you get sorted out if you want?” Mason mumbled.

“I think it’s too late for that Mase. Thank you though.” You said as you walked to the front door and remembered that his front door key was in your bag which you handed to him. There was a keyring with the photo of the two of you on there. You walked towards the door until you heard Mason speak again.

“Y/n wait a second,” you looked back at him, hoping he would say this is a mistake and he wants to start fresh with you but was that the case? Nope. “Where are you going to go? It’s late. I don’t want you wondering about at this time of night.” He asked genuinely worried for you.

But you couldn’t help but answer coldly as this wasn’t his problem anymore. You weren’t his problem anymore. “You have no right to worry about that anymore. You start your life from scratch and forget what I ever meant to you. If I ever did mean anything to you. Good luck with the future, Mase.” You choked out.

Quickly, you got out of the door but you weren’t sure how much more you could hold your tears in for. Opening the boot to put all of your things in the back before you got into the drivers seat and drove away from his house for the last time.

There was tears streaming down your face the entire journey, luckily you still had your own flat that you didn’t end up getting rid of, but it’s been a while since you been in there so it will be weird at first but you’ll have to get used to it. After all this was your life from now on.

During your journey to your now new (old) home, you looked back on all the positives that your relationship had. For example; when he took you away just because he felt like it that was also when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time and you were wondering what you did to deserve this man. Now you were wondering what you did to deserve the situation he put you in.

‘Where in the relationship did we go wrong?’ You thought. You always thought you made him happy. But clearly not if he felt like he needed to chuck you out of his life like that. You clearly weren’t as important to him as you thought you were.

When you got to your old flat, as soon as you walked through the door, it’s like you were almost looking for a feeling of home come to you. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was Mason who made it feel like home. And now you had to live without him.

You had started talking to Mason in the most weird ways ever, you were going through so much at the time so him coming into your life during the most hardest times of your life you would describe it as was truly a blessing in disguise.

Let’s recap to that day..

It was one of those days.

One where you felt like God was never on your side, trying to understand what you did to deserve the last few days of chaos you’ve had.

Eyes closed. Trying to remain calm, steadying your mind and the pace of your breathing.

It had been a long day. You had just come back from the hospital 45 mins ago. No that wasn't your job, your mum had been admitted to hospital after having a traumatic car crash as you'd call it.

On Saturday night she was on the way back from dinner with her friends, until a drunk driver crashed into her and she remained unconscious up until Tuesday morning for a few minutes and remained unconscious again.

When you first got a call from the hospital your first instant reaction was shock and denial because as far as you'd known your mum was all about being a safe driver and she was always scolding you to drive safe. It hadn't settled in until you had seen her. All your emotions started crashing down at once.

You felt a bit helpless and guilty by not being able to do anything to help her, and you were losing hope slowly but deep inside you, you knew your mum will power through this, she's a strong woman after all. After having to raise 6 children when your father left you at a young age deciding that he wanted nothing to do with you, if she could go through that alone, you had hope that she'd get through this.

You couldn't help but feel alone. All your siblings were in their own little bubble and you didn't want to disturb them and you know that they wouldn't care because all of you were all so close but you couldn't help feel like you were burdening them.

All of you were equally upset, each one of them had their own distraction to help not think about this, but you had taken days off to visit your mum during hospital hours and just pour you heart out even though she hadn't had her eyes open you knew she could hear you.

Days prior to this, you had been struggling with your emotions already.

You had given your notice in for work because the environment was becoming so toxic and this guy at work would non stop harassing you until you couldn't take it anymore, mentally it was taking a toll on your mental health. Your ex had gotten back into contact with you repeatedly changing numbers, making different social media accounts to contact you, after numerously blocking him.

Overall you felt like crap, you didn't want to tell your friends about this because you felt like you were asking for sympathy when you didn't want that and you felt like they were all happy within their lives and you didn't want to burst that with your sad feelings.

So you just put a fake smile on your face which was believable to people, and when you were alone tears wouldn't stop flowing.

You hated yourself for not being strong enough.

The peace and quietness lasted about 2 minutes before a message came through your phone. You instantly thought it was someone from the hospital updating you about your mum but this message had confused you even further

Anna?

You most definitely weren't Anna and you most certainly didn't have a date today.

(Imagine you can see the face. Thank you😌)

It was like an addiction messaging each other, you just couldn’t stop. It was flirty banter most of time, he arranged for you to first meet him at a small cafè because he was eager to see you, and this meeting made you feel something for him, even more than you did.

The next meeting you decided to count it as a date, and ever since then you didn’t look back.

He was seriously a blessing in disguise. Your mum was getting better, you got a new job and you couldn’t be more happier that everything finally was starting to fall into place.

Over the months since your breakup you tried to forgive and forget; Forgive because he genuinely did have a lot going on and you also knew his passion for football and maybe you just need to find your way back to each other once the time is right. Forgetting about him and what he meant to you was the hardest thing to do.

It’s been five months now since your breakup and not a day goes by without thinking about him. You just had to remind yourself that he’s probably not thinking about you anymore and he’s probably moved on and as much you wanted him to tell you that he wanted you back probably wasn’t the case. Which hurt you deeply thinking about it but if that’s what helps you to move on then so be it.

The first month was incredibly difficult for you, wanting to text him every hour of the day to try and work things out, even though he ended it you wanted him to fight for you, you once thought you meant the whole world to him, and now acted like you were strangers.

His friends had found out about the break up and checked in on you to see how you were doing. They didn’t see it coming, especially Ben, he thought he was head over heels for you and he was always going on about how perfect his relationship is. Ben insisted on talking some sense into him but you refused, not wanting to force his way back to you, you’d much rather him come back to you when he was ready.

Whenever that was.

At this point you were starting to think that it would only happen in your dreams.

You felt a like crap and thought you were being over dramatic, thinking that Mason’s probably isn’t doing the same and moping over this, so over the next two months you tried pushing him out of your mind and start focusing on your mental health and yourself, getting your self love back.

Saffie, Libby and Imogen, who had been your support system since helped you through it and you couldn’t be more grateful. They also were shocked about the break up but as of right now you didn’t care. You had come to terms with that it wasn’t meant to be and you tried convincing yourself that you were fine with it.

When you moved in with Mason, it was difficult to see them, as they lived out of town and at the time things were just getting hectic that you didn’t have the time, even though you hadn’t seen each other for a while you had still kept each other updated on every little detail.

Tonight, you were going on a night out with your girls. It had been a while since you had a girls night and you couldn’t wait because you had missed your girls.

“Cheers!! I want to make a toast to Y/N. I want you to know that you’re the most strongest person I know and you don’t need no mannn that makes you feel like shit!!” Libby screamed through the loud music that was playing at the club, and you all took a sip of your cocktails. You promised to yourself and the girls that wouldn’t cry tonight and so far you were failing but you decided to blink the tears away and have the time of your life with your besties. It’s the least you deserved.

You don’t know how you got here but you’re not complaining.

You barely make it inside the house. As soon as you both are nside, you’re kissing, making out against the front door. Pushing him back, desperately wanting more, trying to suck every last drop out of the love that is still left.

You’ve missed him. Missed him so much.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Mason pants, pulling away, framing your face with his hands, and you nod.

“No, but it feels good, doesn’t it?” You say with a grin, that’s all your willpower gone out of the window.

Mason grins at you. Just like he used to; it’s just like it used to be.

“Fuck yes. Let’s go upstairs.”

You knows this will only hurt you in the morning but you can’t resist, you’ve missed him, missed how he feels, how he tastes. And all that matters right now is that your legs are wrapped around Mason’s waist and the way he groans when you push yourself into him.

Fuck, it feels good.

It’s not a long, drawn out fuck, no changing positions, no words. It’s not hasty either, but it’s desperate, both of them fighting for the perfect angle, chasing their release, needing it.

Still, it’s loving. The way Mason’s hand is in the exact right spot on your back, the way they kiss, breathlessly moaning into each others mouths. And the way they lock eyes, reading each other’s faces.

They’ve done this many times - spent so many nights entangled, making each other moan and pleasuring themselves. They know this, every part of it is familiar.

It happens too quickly, but you wouldn’t have the strength to prolong it anyways. It’s too much, there is not a single clear thought in your head as you kiss Mason through his climax.

“It will hurt more tomorrow,” Mason whispers when you pull him closer under the blanket. You know he’s not just talking about you aching. His tone is soft, laced with a shadow of a sorry, his hand gently stroking your arm, the gesture putting you to sleep.

When you woke up it was around four AM you weren’t surprised to find yourself sleeping next to someone but you couldn’t pinpoint on who it was as you were too drunk and didn’t remember a single thing about your one night stand as you rarely have them, silently cursing yourself for drinking too much.

This room seemed familiar to you though, you don’t know if your mind was playing tricks on you or if it was actually familiar to you. That was until the person next to you turned to face you, still asleep and you were met with none other than Mason.

You shot up at the exact second, accidentally waking up Mason doing so. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Let’s get back to sleep yeah?” Mason says in a sleepy voice but you were still in a state of shock of how this happened, you were about to reply until you turned around to face him to see him asleep again.

How did you let this happen.

You went downstairs to compose yourself with a glass of water and watched your reflection on his window.

‘You stupid idiot. Why did you do this to yourself?’ You thought. The more you thought about everything that had happened last night, how much you missed him touching you, kissing you, tears were forming because it just wasn’t fair that he was making you feel like this.

In the middle of your thoughts, Mason entered the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist, buried his face in your neck, kissing it repeatedly. “Baby, why are you here? It’s 4am,” he whispered in your ear. You were just staring blankly outside at his patio, tears threatening to fall. Your lip started wobbling.

How could you be so dumb? He starts seducing you whilst drunk and it worked so easily he had you right where he wanted. You were never that girl to have one night stands, but this one felt like one because you knew what Mason’s decision was.

“Listen, you were drunk. We both had a little too much to drink. I saw you in the club alone, I don’t know where your friends were and you looked like you had a little too much to drink. I offered to take you home but you mentioned you left your keys with Imogen because you know how clumsy you can be and lose them. So I took you back to mine and I don’t know how it happened but there was sexual tension in the air and we both started kissing and one thing led to another, but I want you to know it doesn’t mean anything to me.” Mason said so confidently.

You needed a moment to hear the last sentence alone, but you wanted him to think that were coping well without him because he had moved on and somehow you needed to do the same, but after last night it’s become hard again. It’s like having sex with him has brought your feelings back again but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore, even though when you broke up he told you that he’ll always love you. You guessed that was lie.

You wanted it to mean something to him, you wanted him to ask for you back. You wanted him to fight for you.

Which will only happen in your dreams by the looks of it.

You wondered if he ever loved you? Now you just believed what your negative thoughts were telling you.

“I’m going to get my stuff and leave,” you said with a lump in your throat and glossy eyes.

Mason saw the expression on your face and was the sick of the sad expression you had on your face and he snapped, “Okay. Don’t expect me to stop you then. I have moved on.”

It’s like this was a different man in front of you, you don’t remember getting to know this guy, you don’t remember falling in love with him. The Mason you remember falling in love with wouldn’t let you go without a fight. You weren’t going to let him treat you like this so you snapped back. “Yeah because you sleeping with me last night really tells me that you’ve moved on doesn’t it?” You rolled your eyes.

“It was a mistake! I told you, I was drunk, you were drunk, one thing led to another and it’s a regret of mine now letting you think that you’ll ever get close to me again. Maybe, just maybe if you weren’t so needy all the damn time we could’ve given this a second chance.” Mason frustratedly said, with what he said, sounded like you hurt him, when he was the one to break up with you. It just didn’t make any sense to you.

You wished he hadn’t pushed you away. You pushed past Mason to get your things, not wanting to stay here a minute longer.

Mason stayed quiet, knowing what he said was wrong but in the heat of the moment it just came out. Once you came out of his room and got your things ready, you walked out his front door whilst he watched you leave.

It had been two nights since that night you encounter with Mason, you started thinking outside of box and tried moving on as he had, it was lot harder than you thought it would be. Maybe because the Mason you saw two nights ago was a completely different person in front of you.

Maybe if you went on a few dates it would help? You thought.

You never did see yourself separating from Mason, but that’s how things currently were and you had to accept that. You decided to scroll on Twitter for bit and what first came up on suggested posts surprised you a little because you weren’t expecting that when you opened the app.

To say you were more than hurt to see how he’s moved on quickly, but also you were convinced that the paparazzi make things worse from what they were. You experienced it when you were with Mason, so part of you were hoping that this girl pictured with him was just a friend but looking at the picture it was telling you something else.

You know it has been more than a few months that you’ve broken up now but a part of you wasn’t ready to let go. But you always promised yourself that if you saw Mason happy with another person you would be happy for him no matter how much it hurt you inside and you weren’t going to ruin his happiness.

That’s if this article was true.

Now you needed to move on because it seemed like Mason wasn’t going to come back to you by the looks of things and you need to accept that.

Mason didn’t know how to feel when the paparazzi photos came out, first of all the pictures were completely misleading to what they actually were.

He wasn’t on a date.

The only thing he was doing was playing Cupid, and setting this girl up with his mate, Ben. When Mason spotted Y/N on a night out with her friends, he was with Ben and a few of his other friends. This girl caught Ben’s attention but he was too much of a scaredy cat to go up to her. He thought he missed his chance.

That was until, the girl, Chloe, reached out to Mason on DMs and asked if they could meet to talk things through. He knew Ben wouldn’t dare to ask her outright, so they planned to call it a ‘blind date’ because Chloe actually had her eyes on Ben and it turns out that when she was about to go up to him that night he had disappeared, she couldn’t find him but she also knew Mason was good friends with Ben so she’s shooting her shot the long way.

Mason still deeply loved Y/N, he only said he moved on because he wanted Y/N think he’s doing okay without her. He really doesn’t know why he started pushing her away, and he regrets it because all he wanted know is Y/N between his arms. He would do everything for their relationship to be normal again, but instead he had to fuck it up.

Mason won’t be stupid enough to lose you again at any given chance. He was already stupid enough to know what life was like without you and he’s not risking that again.

He knew he needed to fix this.

—

taglist: @chilwellspulisic

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murkycran · 8 months ago

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Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List! ^_^ This will include romantic, platonic, and/or queerplatonic Radiostatic fics (and admittedly probably a couple of Radiosilence fics, too).

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

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Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Summary: Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Notes: 98% of this fic was written before season 1 was released, so keep that in mind, because there's obviously going to be inconsistencies with canon. It's nearly finished (at least according to the author's notes in the latest chapters, I think). I suggest pacing yourself with this one - it's nearly 700k words long. I ruined a good sleep schedule staying up to get through it. (So worth it though.) There are quite a few OCs in later chapters, but they're such good OCs. You fall in love with them just as much as the canon characters, I swear. I would die for Verity and the Trio.

Let's Misbehave by joosymango

Summary: Alastor wins a bet against Vox, now his rival must stop pestering him for two weeks. It should be a pleasant break! So why does he miss the idiot?

Notes: Vaguely inspired by Aspiring_Forest_Witch's Radio Healed the Video Star. Also largely written before season 1 release. First fic I read for the HH fandom. ^_^

Safe with Me Series by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Having only ever set his sights on men who treat women with odious disrespect, Alastor never thought he'd take interest in Vox's turbulent relationship with his fiancé and business partner, Valentino. He decides to lend a helping hand in the hopes of getting Vox out of his sticky situation. After all, what are childhood enemies for?

Unfortunately, neither Alastor nor Vox could've predicted the rollercoaster of unsaid emotions and future horrors that are thrown their way. Will they be able to rely on each other and get by unscathed? Or will destiny have other plans for these two?

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Notes: It's so, so good. ;-; Heed the tags. There's a prequel consisting of oneshots, plus a sequel (listed below, bc I can't not put it here)! And there's ART! So much art!

You, My Everything by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Some say that love can conquer all, even in Hell.

Vox begged to differ, and he was damn well sure Alastor did too – or at least he would be, if Alastor hadn’t become one big question mark.

Sequel to Safe with Me.

Notes: Only read if you've read Safe With Me!!! Still pretty early in the story but so good. ;-; The angst, I swear...

You're on the Air by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air. Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

Notes: Same author as Safe with Me, but not set in the same universe! This one is set up in a literal radio show format; almost entirely dialogue-centric.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Inspired by x_Arcticfox_x’s fanfiction: Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola

After overdosing on them one too many times to curb the steadily weakening suppressants, Vox's body rejects them outright. Now with his scent getting stronger, he finds himself struggling to hide his true status as an Omega. In his desperation, he seeks help from the one person that knows his secret: Alastor.

Notes: Omegaverse. Same author as Safe with Me series and You're on the Air!

Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola by x_Arcticfox_x

Summary: Vox is an omega, that's his biggest secret.

During his life time he hid this fact using suppressants, and counited to in death. One day he runs out of pills and his supplier is out of stock for the time being so Vox is forced to submit to the torture of going through heat for the first time in decades.

Too bad his business partner only see's omega's as mere object's...

But hey, at least Angel found him just in time, right?

Notes: Omegaverse. Currently on hold, but has 14 chapters currently available for reading. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor decides that it's time to claim what is rightfully his, consequences be damned.

Notes: It's not porn but it might as well have been for how fucking intense this scene was. 😳

Dripping Pink by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Just before an Overlord meeting, Alastor gets infected by an off-market, highly potent, and incredibly dangerous love potion. Nobody realises until it's too late.

Notes: Simultaneously funny as fuck and erotic as all hell. I suffered from so much secondhand embarrassment on Vox's behalf. It's wonderful. :D

Lucidity's Fog by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Ever since he met Alastor, Vox has been having raunchy dreams about the deer. Those dreams suddenly stop when Alastor disappears. For seven years, he's free of the guilt, of the shame brought on by his unconscious desire.

Until Alastor comes back, and Vox is plagued by a new dream the same day he finds out about the news. This time, however, something is distinctively different about how the deer is acting.

Notes: Author tagged for light angst, but ngl the ending did not feel like 'light' angst to me lol. Hurt in a good way.

Finger Tips and Dotted Lips by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor has sensitive hands; he finds this out at the most inconvenient time possible. Unfortunately, Vox is the one who ends up paying the price for it.

Having to help a seemingly broken Overlord whilst navigating this new discovery proves to be a little more taxing than the Radio Demon could ever have imagined.

Notes: Alastor is such a troll in this omg.

Thawing Out by Seaside_Dreaming

Summary: Seeing a small crack in Vox's screen nags at Alastor more than he likes to admit.

Vox wishes things were better. Sooner or later, Alastor has to come to terms with the fact he has feelings, in general.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. HIGHLY suggest reading the prequel one-shot. It's not necessary to understand the plot here, but you should read it anyway.

Static by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox creates a new and improved version of himself to please Val, only to be replaced by it. He is left beaten and broken with no one to turn to . . . except maybe his oldest enemy, Alastor.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Hating you feels so good by TwoBitJester

Summary: Vox obsesses over his returned enemy and finds himself a little too wound up

Notes: Very good PWP.

Laced Over Dinner by hazbinhearts

Summary: Vox is persuaded to dress a little differently over dinner for Alastor, but finds it remarkably uncomfortable as the night goes on. Written for VoxWeek21 Day 3: dressing up [appearance, formal, dance].

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Corsets. 😳

Observer by DeviousPossum

Summary: He moved the cursor to click off, when he suddenly heard a very recognizable static laced tone.

Alastor.

What the fuck. Alastor is singing.

Vox unintentionally ran claw marks across his desk, an increasingly common habit for him as of late. He grimaced at his now ruined table and unsuccessfully tried to reel in an inexplicable feeling that could only be described as jealousy.

Notes: Porn with a tiny bit of plot in the first chapter. :3

RadioTV Week 2021 Series by Heliosolar

Summary: Pretty much the title; various prompts.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. All worth reading, though they aren't connected.

Sharkblocking by Anonymous

Summary: Alastor is Vox’s number one rival. Incidentally, though nobody involved is aware of it, Alastor’s number one rival is actually Vox’s pet shark.

In which Alastor is actually a little obsessed back and Vark is the biggest obstacle to Radiostatic short of canon itself.

Notes: VARK!

Control + V by TooManyPsuedonyms

Summary: Vox and Alastor have a... thing. Not quite a relationship, but something. Vox is too scared to define it properly, and Alastor is dead set that Vox will eventually get bored of his lack of reciprocity and move on.

So, Valentino tries to show Vox what he is missing.

... too bad Vox didn't want him like that. ... too bad Alastor didn't know want is a vague word.

Notes: Heed the tags!!! There's currently a sequel; I haven't read it yet, but I definitely plan to. 👀

gift of the magi by vol_ctrl

Summary: "... Although husband and wife are now left with gifts that neither one can use, they realize how far they are willing to go to show their love for each other, and how priceless their love really is ..."

Alastor/Vox established relationship fluff.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Very sweet. ^_^

the lost tape by vol_ctrl

Summary: There's a NEW ambitious media demon in Pentagram City. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

12 Days of Yuletide by vol_ctrl

Summary: A parody of the 12 Days of Christmas traditional tune, as can only be done by Vox gifting to his beloved adversary.

Or, a series of letters from the desk of Alastor upon receiving a series of increasingly elaborate gifts from his insufferably modern foil during the holiday season.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Fear makes the heart grow fonder by Graysongirl

Summary: After a bit of inspiration from an unlikely source Vox comes up with the plan that scaring Alastor is the best route to gaining his affections. The haunted house at LuLu World seems like the perfect (safe) environment for a bit of pre-planned scaring...

[Stand-alone staticradio]

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Funny af. "Red! Red!" XD

Cordyceps, King of Ants by spappest

Summary: Vox is tired. Of Valentino. Of Velvette. Of Alastor, and Hell, and everything in between. He can't escape, but he can cut himself off, piece by piece, until he feels nothing at all. Alastor takes exception to this approach and commissions a certain princess of Hell to fix his foe. Now Vox has a hotel of misfits on one side of him, overlords on the other, and Alastor crushing his cage ever smaller.

Clearly, the only way Vox will get any peace and quiet is to just kill God.

Valentino did always tell him that he had no chill.

Notes: Started before season 1 was released. Technically features Staticmoth but it's not the focus as much as Radiostatic (which honestly has a relationship status of ??? not romantic but also not friendship or even strictly enemies...just...Alastor and Vox). O_O I think about this fic on a daily basis.

Russian Roulette by spappest

Summary: Vox and Alastor play a game that Vox is way too excited to lose.

Notes: Started before season 1 release. Take note!!! I'm putting this on the Radiostatic list because it's almost entirely centered on Alastor and Vox's dynamic, but the romantic relationship is Staticmoth. The Staticmoth is just not featured very much.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Afterlife by spappest

Summary: Alastor goes into rut.

Vox has a bad time. Then a good time. Then a very bad time. Then a brief vacation. Then a confusing time.

Notes: Background Staticmoth, but Radiostatic is most prominent. Funny af. Alastor and Vox have...a very special relationship. Lol.

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

Summary: Alastor was a serial killer who valued his privacy. So when someone who claims to know what he is tries to barge into his life he can't let them live, his secret must be protected at all cost.

A normally easy task easy task becomes complicated when Alastor's ex-boyfriend is dragged into the whole thing forcing the serial killer to go visit them for the first time in seven years.

Notes: Human AU. Love me some possessive Alastor. <3

Negotiations by FanGirl48

Summary: Vox had no interest in attending a meeting between Heaven and Hell following the failed attack by the Adam and his Exterminators. Alastor's little gremlin caused the mess, so he can go clean it up. Vox had nothing wanted nothing to do with the radio demon, king of hell or heaven.

But that was before Lucifer made the media overlord aware of Valentino's little job offer to his daughter.

Damnit Valentino!

Notes: "And they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates"

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

Summary: Vox dies. Surprisingly no one takes this well.

Or, Vox dies and Alastor tries to drag his soul back from Purgatory.

Notes: Another fic I think about daily... Heavy themes. Heed the tags.

Hold Me Like a Grudge by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor has spent a long time running from Vox. Vox has chased after him almost as long. When suppressants fail throughout the city, they finally collide.

Notes: Omegaverse. Fun fact about this author: all their Radiostatic fic titles are from Fall Out Boy lyrics lol. (I fucking love FOB sue me.) I haven't yet read all of Rachello344's Radiostatic fics, BUT I have them all on my To Read list because I've loved everything I've read of theirs so far lol.

What Makes You So Special? by Rachello344

Summary: With Lucifer’s return to the Pride Ring, the other Deadly Sins were bound to take notice. When Asmodeus stops by the Pride Ring to visit the Morningstars, the Vees are able to make a deal to host a pop-up shop of the incredibly popular Lust Ring establishment, Ozzie’s, bringing it to the Pride Ring for the first time.

When Vox and Alastor both attend the restaurant’s opening night, long repressed sparks fly, forever changing their relationship.

Notes: Because of the pacing of this (sex first romance later), I feel like this is the Radiostatic equivalent of Femalefonzie's Freak-A-Zoid (a really good Staticmoth fic). This is hands down one of the most romantic Radiostatic fics I've read. ^_^

Hold Me Tight (or Don't) by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor and Vox finally come to an understanding, both of each other and of what they each mean to the other. Their relationship evolves accordingly, one concession at a time, until they both get everything they could possibly want: power, companionship, and even love.

Notes: So, so good.

Keep You Like an Oath by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor normally wouldn’t bother with the chore—breaking into V Tower was quite a lot of work, even for him—but he found himself curious about what Vox and his little friends might be working on. Especially since whatever it was had Angel concerned enough to report back to the rest of the hotel about it.

Of course, before he can learn anything, he’ll need to sneak past Vox’s watchful eye…

Notes: God it's just...so good. Read it. Radiostatic reconciliation. One thing I love about Rachello344 writing Radiostatic is Alastor's terms of endearment for Vox. ^_^

To Be Yours by pinegreenapples

Summary: Alastor hears something he hasn't heard in years. He decides to investigate why now, of all times, this frequency has turned back on. Vox is not amused.

Notes: Hurt no comfort. Hurts so good, though. ;-;

oleanders in june by spoondrifts

Summary: It seems like while Alastor was off preying on the self-destructive addictions of desperate sinners, Vox was off getting himself beaten half to death, probably from spouting belligerent nonsense at someone with violent tendencies and a far lower threshold for disrespect than Alastor. Not everyone finds poor Vox’s chatter as charming as he does.

If Vox is unconscious, then Vox is not being entertaining, and Alastor came here to have fun, not play nursemaid.

Or: Drunk on power and itching to cause some mayhem, Alastor hunts down the only person in the city who's always up for anything. Unfortunately, he finds Vox... not exactly in tip-top shape. No matter; he can work with that too.

Notes: ^_^ Very sweet.

equilibrium by curtailed

Summary: Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

Notes: This fic has me in a CHOKEHOLD. I love the characterizations so, so much. Manages to fit in humor alongside the angst. One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen put into words. Curtailed really took Vox and Alastor as characters and planned out a cool fucking fight scene using their unique abilities. I automatically love anything tagged with "one fell first but the other fell harder" lol.

candlelight by curtailed

Summary: Despite the #SirRepentious success, Heaven remains skeptical of a sinner's ability to change. Logic gets lost somewhere, and really, what's a better way to show sinners can be marginally less horrible than to stick two Overlords who hate each other in the same living space?

Alastor and Vox play house.

Notes: The comedy of Alastor and Vox being forced to be civil with each other and then unintentionally becoming very domestic together. Lol

wallow by curtailed

Summary: A 2+1 fic. Two times when Alastor and Vox were in a love triangle (hard quote on love, hard quote on triangle), and the one time Alastor had Vox to himself.

Notes: Only 1 (very good) chapter so far, but safe to say pretty heavy already. Heed the tags.

Addicted by Dancingdog

Summary: After the latest argument with Valentino, Vox finds himself at the Hazbin Hotel. An injured Alastor is less-than-pleased to see him, which is understandable considering they are enemies.

But as more and more of Valentino's venom leaves his system, Vox begins to remember his days before V-Tower and he learns exactly why Alastor rejected his offer all those decades ago.

His memories return in fits and spurts - not all of them good. His past with Alastor isn't something he expected and it turns out that he isn't the only one suffering.

Notes: Dude. This fic hurt me. Such good angst.

Radio Made the Video Star Series by songofhell

Summary: Snippets of Vox and Alastor's afterlife, and their journey from strangers to friends to enemies to... something more.

Notes: Pretty much what the series summary says - a series of installments that chronicle the beginning and subsequent evolution of Alastor and Vox's relationship. Very good, has tons of possessive!Alastor, which I die for.

Uneasy by Saezs

Summary: “Something’s wrong with Voxy.”

Velvette’s eyes snapped to the tall moth pimp. “And?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow. As if she needed to deal with two piss babies this close to a show. Valentino shrugged, tapping away on his phone, and walked away to stand threateningly close to her new models. Before she could snap at him, she saw it; his wings were twitching. Barely noticeable to strangers, just under the hum of the building’s lights, he was squeaking with each tap of his fingers. She felt unease and a healthy dose of aggravation swirl in her stomach.

Or: Vox was roofied and sexually assaulted. Velvette tries to be better than her mother. Unexpected connections are formed.

Notes: Heed the tags! Features genderfluid Vox. :)

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't by Drowsy_Salamander

Summary: “I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

Oh shit.

... Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Notes: Each chapter so far has been a different type of dance, which is really neat. Especially chapter 2. ^_^ That said, there's a feeling of impending doom, knowing what happens to their relationship eventually... Not saying that as a deterrent but just a comment on how I felt while reading it lol. It's very sweet, which is why it hurts to think of future chapters. 🙃

Days Long Past by Momo52

Summary: All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subdued. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

Notes: I think platonic Radiostatic is the endgame here. Still pretty early in the story, but I'm really liking this author's depiction of Vox and Alastor's pasts. Heed the tags. There are heavy subjects such as suicide (very big theme for Vox's pov) and period-typical racism (in Alastor's past) present in the story.

Remote Access by x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Summary: In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

Notes: Fairly certain this is firmly Radiosilence based on the tags (and the direction of the story so far). Very funny, very hot. Vox is pathetic in this one. Lol

Nun-thing Like You've Ever Seen Series by A_Cypress_Coffin

Summary: Alastor, the feared radio demon with more blood on his hands than most of hell combined, wasn't always as we imagine him. There was a time where instead of a dapper suit and smile he donned a simple vow and habit. That didn't last of course, but the journey is quite something.

Notes: This author has a great sense of humor, lmao. I enjoyed the unique headcanons for Alastor's backstory. The tag that hooked me: "Accidentally becoming a better person through bad domming and found family".

Empathia by The_Oblivious_Swallow

Summary: Creating new technology is boring, sex is physically unappealing, the other Vee’s are so annoying, annoying, annoying! Even Vark, his baby, his pride and joy, doesn’t stir the same joy in his heart like he should.

So, Vox had concluded that it had to go. For his sake.

Notes: Contains Staticmoth, but Radiostatic seems like the endgame (I write this as there is one chapter still left). Really interesting idea. I love Vox.exe so much. ;-;

Every Madman Has His Vice by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “What the fuck do you want, Alastor? Was it not enough to kill me all those years ago? Now, you had to go for the people I loved and the only things I had left in this fucking Hellhole?”

“It was my fault,” Alastor whispers as he approaches Vox slowly, as if he was some sort of wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off. His prey. “Vox, I’m sorry. If I had a chance to redo that night, I would never have hurt you to this extent. I’ll never harm you again.”

“That’s seven years too fucking late, Alastor.”

OR: Seven years ago, instead of Alastor disappearing, it was Vox who left instead.

Notes: I’m so fucking here for this AU. Possessive Alastor, Vox helping with the hotel, Husk is still an Overlord, yessss

Metathesiophobia (Fear of Change) by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: There's a lot that can change in seven years.

But never once had Alastor expected for something like this from his old rival and older friend.

Or, Alastor and Vox start to rekindle their old friendship again after a shocking discovery strikes the deer demon.

Notes: QPR Radiostatic with MtF Vox! Contains a smidge of Staticmoth, but it's in the background and not the focus. Very well written.

surimi and venison by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: A series of short drabbles (500+ words) in an interconnected universe (peep the tags, they're still in hell), centering around Alastor and his new pet fish... shark... television thing. Will (hopefully) update 1-2 times a week. Written as my attempt at a Mermay series.

Notes: Like the summary says, Mermay prompts featuring SharkHybrid!Vox, along with Alastor, who literally saw Vox and decided to make him his pet. Lol.

an arm and a leg, my dear, les yeux d'la tête by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”

“What, so you mean he just up and left?”

“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious. Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”

“If Vox was dead, we would know.” OR: Two months ago, Vox went missing. Right now, it seems as if Alastor has something to hide.

Notes: Vox gets attic-wifed and wears a virgin killer sweater. ^_^

we'll go down together in the ashes of our love by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: Glimpses into the Radio Demon's life as he reluctantly navigates parenthood with his co-parenting partner and the demon princess hoisted onto him by the King and Queen of Hell.

Loosely inspired by Spy X Family.

Notes: CUTE! I love domestic Radiostatic.

What Has Been by Tianren

Summary: Vox has never known peace. From being the son of a egocentric cult leader, to being the boyfriend of a self absorbed abuser. Vox has managed to build a pretty sad life for himself. The only spot of sunshine that had ever blessed his existence was when he met an amateur true crime investigative journalist, with a podcast named, Alastor. The man was his only source of unfiltered news and contact to the world outside his father’s compound. But after Vox finally escaped the cult he waited for Alastor. Waited weeks in their assigned meeting spot just to be forgotten. Vox was convinced he’d stopped waiting for Alastor years ago until he meets the man again seven years later at a hotel. What will reconnecting with his past lead to and will it help him escape the hell he’s built for himself?

Takes place in the late 2000s early 2010s

Trigger warning for religious trauma and abuse as major themes of this story. Will add more warnings if they arise as I go on.

Notes: Really interesting human AU concept!

(Fic rec list to be continued)

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #voxal #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #fic rec list

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tiredofthehumanlife · 4 months ago

Text

Honey, our boyfriend drowned!

Barbie dolls: jegulus x gn!reader

Word:5.1k

Summary: lemme set the scene: Regulus' car crashes into the lake on his drive to work most definitely killing him and then some mystique happens and I get too lazy to write actual plot but I add some sad and cute and JUST FUCKING READ IT ITS FUN AND NICE

Warnings: regulus dies (or does he mwhahaahha), lots.of talk of grief and death and blood and nasty and self hatred you and James are going through it, regulus with a cane and long hair, talks of the war but it's the tiniest mention, Barty has attachment issues, there is some cringe bc believe it or not Im cringey as a person so it just happens, regulus speaks Google translate French, James speaks Google translate Hindi, I had so much fun writing this.one and that's so stupid bc Its literally about death but it was a hoot, brotherly love, peter included SUCK MY DiCK OH MY GOD, oh James takes a picture OH and there's a cordless phone but I was personally thinking of the big clunky ones that sat on the wall you know, insinuations of the cave, Sirius says Jesus Christ in shock you say Gods no in shock yodabba dabba, everyone are friends I watched MLP okay everyone loves each other now, take a shot everytime I say warm, you cry, I quit

While you and James were in school, you started dating a boy named Regulus. He was beautiful and graceful. Your relationship continued outside the bounds of the school walls. Once you and James graduated you got a home and Regulus joined you both a year later when he graduated. Domestic life was wonderful for the three of you. And then Regulus died.

It was hard to believe. How could your boyfriend disappear right out from under both of your noses? He left for work one day and didn’t come back. It was like the world paused after that. The walls wept with you both. The house seemed smaller and tighter because everywhere you looked were remnants of him. His books were on the shelf with his writing inside. His additions to the grocery list were still on the fridge. His fancy shoes for events sitting by the door. His winter coat is on the rack. You could still smell his cologne. Maybe that was because James would spray it on Regulus' pillow and clutch it to his chest while he slept. Your day together as a couple consisted of sitting on the couch in silence and staring ahead listening to the clock tick.

His death put a strain on your relationship. You could barely take care of yourselves. How could you love another person when you could barely work up enough energy to cry? So you both floated around the house silently like you were the ones dead. You didn’t talk to James for weeks.

Everyone around you seemed to take a hit from Regulus’ death. Evans and Barty became reclusive, you hadn’t heard from them in months.

Dorcas started bouncing around her friends’ homes, staying the night on a new person’s couch because she was scared to leave anyone alone. They’d slip from her grasp like Regulus did if she didn’t stay with them.

After a few weeks, Mary and Lily took on the role of caretaker. Bringing people dinners and shoving them into the shower so they’d bathe every once in and while.

Marlene tried to crack jokes with people, she was most definitely the kind of person to joke until her pain went away.

Pandora spent all her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window. You checked on her once and asked her how she was. She told you, without looking away from the window, ‘I had a premonition about this four years ago. It’s scarier in real life. I can’t just crawl into his bed and press my fingers to his pulse. I’m living in a nightmare.’ You sighed and patted her shoulder, leaving her with the wisest words you could muster: ‘Me too, Panda. Me too.’

Peter is in the nearest Library every day, reading all of Regulus’ favorites. He even came over a few times to borrow some of Regulus’ personal books.

Remus found a French cookbook and started making his way through it one recipe at a time as a way to get up and do something. He said he thought of Regulus with each dish and it made the pain recede like an ocean wave.

Sirius took it the hardest, for obvious reasons. He laid on his couch all day, staring at the bookshelf next to the TV. Remus said he couldn’t convince Sirius to move to the bed. He’d only to get up to use the bathroom. Remus would have to sit next to the couch on the floor and feed him so he didn’t wither away. Remus eventually realized Sirius was staring at the picture of him and Regulus sitting on the shelf. After a long time, Sirius finally moved from the couch, instead taking his tears to his bed. You didn’t see Sirius for weeks.

When Regulus’ funeral arrived it was obvious the impact he left. All 12 of you stared at the empty coffin as it settled into the ground. You didn’t even get the peace of knowing his body was resting in the coffin. They never found it. They found his car in the lake with a massive hole the size of his fancy car on the side of the bridge overhead. The police said his body probably drifted down the attached river into the woods. It was likely his body was scavenged by animals. It did nothing to settle your mind.

Your lover drowned and then was torn apart by wild animals? Great, glad he’s resting peacefully. All of his things were in the car too. The book he was trying to finish during the month of the crash. His bag with his wallet and every other personal item you could think of. He even still had Pandora’s hair clip on the strap. His blood was on the seat and front windshield. Cops said it was impossible for him to have survived, especially with the amount of blood that was lost. He left for work, taking the route he always did, and died in the process.

It took a long time but you all eventually healed from it. Of course, it still hurt when you were reminded of it but you slowly got back to your average life.

Sirius got off the couch. Dorcas slept in her own bed. Marlene finally cried. Lily and Mary started making food only for themselves. Remus put his cookbook on the shelf, next to the picture. Peter moved out of the libraries, finding new books. Barty and Evan even joined you and James on a double date once. Pandora moved away from the window. You and James stopped being zombies dancing around each other. You finally talked it through and cradled the other through the night, Regulus' pillow was shoved into the closet.

You asked your friends for help to pack all of Regulus’ things into boxes. It was terribly hard to move on when his presence was still staring you in the eye. You told Sirius he could stay home but he still showed up. He helped you pack up Regulus’ clothes, taking back the band shirts Regulus stole from him. He even used one as a tissue when he cried about it.

With too many people in your house, you were all able to stuff Regulus into three separate boxes. Remus helped James move them into the attic. even though you wanted him hidden away in boxes didn’t mean you wanted to sell his presence away. You hugged everyone goodbye. It was a sour goodbye, the memory of Regulus’ loss fresh on their minds but happy they got to see all their friends again.

You, along with all the others, had your good and bad days. You’d say an inside joke Regulus came up with and spend the rest of the day crying next to the window. Some days you’d blossom and be like you were years ago. As time went by your bad days became more and more far apart. You and James’ relationship was going strong, you felt like you were in school again. In a positive way.

After a long brunch with Remus and Sirius full of laughs, you and James went home and relaxed. James left to go take a nap and you started reading by the window facing out towards the road that led to your doorstep. After you got through four chapters, James was rising from his nap and kissing you good morning. Though it was really more of a late afternoon, you didn’t correct him. He left to go make himself a snack, still in his pajamas. You continued reading.

As you heard the timer go off for James’ food you glanced up to see if he was getting it. You saw him through the opening, reaching over for the pot on the oven. You moved to look back at your book, pausing when you saw someone on the sidewalk. You were an avid enjoyer of people-watching.

It was a man who left your boots feeling shaken. His hair was longer, reaching down to kiss his back between his shoulder blades. He walked with a limp. He was classily dressed. At the top of his cane was a bird skull. He was dressed in all black and had various silver jewelry hanging from his body. His hair was falling into his face as he stared at the ground. You glanced down at the ground to see his shoes, finding they were just as fancy and put together as he was. You looked back up at his hair, trying to see if you could figure out how he maintained it so perfectly.

As you dragged your eyes up, he shook his head back. His hair flew back revealing his scarred face. There was a scar parting his eyebrow and making a trail across his cheek to his ear. You saw one peeking out from the bottom of his jaw and dipping under his high-collared shirt.

Even with all the changes you recognized him. You sprung out of your chair, flinging your book back towards the coffee table. You heard it clatter to the floor.

“James! Call Sirius!” You yelled as you scattered towards the front door, knocking over items on your way.

“What? Why?” James asked from the kitchen opening. You spun your head back towards him. You probably looked like a frazzled crazy person. You felt like a frazzled crazy person. You were either hallucinating or really watching your dead lover walk down the street.

“Call Sirius, James.” You said, your tone nipping at his hand and making him turn around for the phone hanging in the kitchen. You flung open the front door, ignoring your shoes and the fact the door smacked against the wall.

You weren’t entirely sure Regulus, or at least what you thought was Regulus, wouldn’t run away if he saw you coming. You ran down the concrete steps and your driveway. You ignored the fire the rough ground started on the bottoms of your feet. James stood on front doorstep with the phone pressed to his ear. You caught snippets of his words as you moved to the end of the driveway, staring down the sidewalk.

“I don’t know.” Your chest heaved as your mind caught up with what you were looking at. “Just said to call you.” You stared at the man in black walking down the center of the sidewalk. “Bein’ weird.” You saw the man stop his walking as you stood in his way.

“Regulus?” You yelled. The man stood still. You took a step towards him. James had settled silent. “Regulus? Baby, is that you?” You yelled down the sidewalk. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of your neighbor's house, still staring at the ground. Hr pulled his head up, facing you. Even from a far distance, you could recognize him.

Your body started running before your brain could even tell you to. Regulus picked up his pace, a nice brisk walk. You doubted he could go much faster with his apparent hurt leg but you didn’t care. Your undead lover was on your sidewalk. You picked up your pace, letting your lungs burn. Your heart was burning more, the pain from knowing you’d never see Regulus mixing with the hope that he was really walking down your sidewalk.

“Holy shit.” You heard James say from the first doorstep. “Listen uh, Sirius, I’m going to have to call you back. I think we might be hallucinating right now.” James said. You heard the quiet clatter of the phone on the table next to the front door. You and Regulus stopped with barely two feet between you too. Your chest heaved. You thought your ribs might explode.

Regulus was beautiful even with the scars and obvious dark experiences lingering behind his eyes. You couldn’t imagine what happened in the past year and a half but he was still Regulus after all this time. You felt like you shouldn’t cry because he might feel guilty and leave again. You closed the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around him. Regulus sighed with his chin pulled over your shoulder. You heard his cane drop to the sidewalk, his weight leaning into yours.

You gripped the onto the back of his shirt, crying into his shoulder. Regulus held onto you just as hard. You felt James’ arms join yours, holding onto Regulus. After a few moments of Regulus finally feeling at home and you and James realizing you did all that crying for nothing, you all pulled back. Regulus wobbled a second, before leaning on his other side. James quickly dipped down and held Regulus’ cane out to him. Regulus thanked him, leaning his weight back on the cane.

“You’re alive.” You said, sticking your hands your hands out at Regulus. He gave you a one-shouldered shrug.

“There’s a lot I need to tell you,” Regulus muttered, glancing down at the cane. You shook your head, reaching out for him again. You let your hands cup his face.

“Oh let me look at you.” You traced the scars on his face. You tugged lightly on the ends of his hair. You let your hands dip down, tracing over the necklaces. You looked down at the metal skull buckle on his belt, grinning at his fancy shoes again. Even after all the changes, he was still in his stupid shoes.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. I can’t believe you’re alive.” You said, cupping his face again. Regulus hummed and tilted his face into your hand. You pulled back and let James pull Regulus into his arms. James cradled Regulus’ head to his chest just as he used to when Regulus got bad nightmares. Regulus let out a gasping sob, digging his nails into James’ forearm. James closed his eyes and pressed his nose to Regulus’ hair.

A few minutes later Regulus was sat at the table with his favorite tea hugged between his hands. You watched him from across the table, tracking his every move. It was weird looking at him. Aside from the fact you thought he was dead, it was a stark change.

You got to watch James slowly change parts of himself over the year. The wrinkles near his eyes got more prominent, he cut his hair, and he got new shoes, etcetera. You went from seeing Regulus with hair shorter than his chin to watching him flick it over his shoulder. You saw him with the clear and pristine skin he took pride in the scarred look he was sporting now. Regulus pursed his lips and blew on the hot tea in his hands before flicking his eyes up to you. You didn’t shy away from the fact you were staring at him. James wandered into the dining room his phone pressed to his ear.

“No Sirius, I’m being ser-I’m being for real. You need to get over here now, you’re not going to believe this.” James said, leaning on the doorframe and staring at Regulus. Regulus stuck his hand out at James, wiggling his fingers. James raised an eyebrow ‘You sure?’. Regulus shook his hand, ‘yes.’. James handed the phone to Regulus. Regulus pressed the phone to his ear. He cleared his throat.

“That coffin was uncomfortable, dickhead.” Regulus said before pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging it up. He set it on the table and took a slow sip from his tea.

“I think you just gave him a heart attack,” James said. You hummed, staring down at the phone.

“Yeah I’m not sure if that was the best action but it was a very Regulus thing for you to do so at least some things haven’t changed. “ You said, handing the phone off to James. Regulus closed his eyes as he pulled his tea away from his lips.

Minutes later Sirius was bursting through your door with Remus tailing fast behind him. Sirius peered into each room, making haste to search the house. Regulus set his tea down. Sirius stood in the dining room doorway, frozen in place. Regulus stood from his chair, leaning on his cane and sighing as he did so. He tilted his head to the side, making a small spin to show off his new look.

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius muttered.

“that’s who he looks like, I was trying to place it,” you said, sighing and smacking James’ bicep. Regulus faces Sirius again, holding his arm out. Sirius closed the space, pulling Regulus into a hug. They rocked side to side. You thought of shooing everyone out but you also wanted to watch Sirius’ reaction. Sirius pulled back and smacked Regulus on the crown of his head. Regulus glared at him, obviously, it wasn’t hard.

“Don’t you ever do that again you dick,” Sirius said, before cupping Regulus’ face. He grimaced and shook his head.

“You look like me in fourth year,” Sirius whispered, running his hand through the length of Regulus’ hair. Regulus hummed.

“I thought so too. I missed home, so I grew it out. I plan on trimming it soon though, not really me.” Regulus whispered. Sirius hummed and traced the scar down Regulus’ eyebrow with his thumb.

“What’d you do?” Sirius asked.

“I ended a war before it started, the usual break year plans. I almost drowned and fought off some weird gremlin things. It’s a story.” Regulus said, waving off Sirius’ look of concern. “I’m fine now, other than the trauma I hold with water. But I managed to figure it out. I just take showers weird now.” Regulus added, once again downplaying the severity.

“Well, your funeral was a waste of time,” Sirius said, turning back around to stand next to Remus. Regulus shrugged.

“Did you guys cry?” You, James, Remus, and Sirius shared looks. You all shrugged.

“Eh, not really.”

“I mean what even classifies as crying these days, you know.”

"So much I got dehydrated"

“After the first couple of days, it was a breeze.” Regulus rolled his eyes and pulled his tea off the table.

“So did you guys sell all my shit?” He whispered into his cup. You and James quickly shook your heads.

“Oh gods, no. It’s all in the attic.” You said, pointing at the ceiling above you. James and Remus left for the attic as you and Sirius chased after Regulus. Regulus took his tea from the dining room to the living room, setting it on the coffee table. You and Sirius stared at him as he settled onto the couch. Regulus propped his cane against the side table, taking a sip from his tea. Regulus lifted an eyebrow at the floor. He leaned over and held your book up.

“Thought I taught you better than to throw books,” Regulus said, setting the book on the coffee table. You crossed your arms over your chest. You scoffed.

“I was a little more focused on my undead lover walking into my garden.” You said. Regulus shrugged and gently set the book down on the coffee table. Regulus kicked his foot up, resting his ankle on his knee. James and Remus joined you with all three boxes. They were all labeled with a different form of his name, three different handwritings. Evan wrote R.A.B. in his swirly handwriting. Sirius had written Regulus in his pristine handwriting. You scribbled down Reggie on the top with an almost empty Sharpie. It looked like you didn’t care but you couldn’t bear to look at the boxes any more than you had to.

Regulus leaned forward, tearing open the nearest box. He started rummaging through it and you wished Evan was here. You couldn’t fold things as perfectly as he could. Regulus pulled out his favorite stuffed animal, setting it on the couch next to him. He closed the box, reaching for the next one. He tore it open just as fast. He pulled out his favorite blanket and book. Regulus threw the blanket next to his stuffed animal. He set the book on the coffee table and as you watched him close up the box again, you sucked in a shaky breath. Regulus lifted his head, looking at you. You turned into James’ arms. James tightened his hold. You hated to get James’ shirt dirty but watching Regulue tear through the boxes you were sure you’d never touch again made your throat close up.

“Sorry did I do something?” You heard Rehgulus’ voice behind you. James’ hand ran up and down your back. You felt SIrius’ hand land on your shoulder.

“No, we’re just processing, I think. Lots of changes today.” James said, rocking you back and forth. Sirius took on the role of changing the subject so you still had a little bit of dignity.

“We need to call the others. I mean this is a big change we’ll have to get every-“ Regulus cut off Sirius.

“Listen, I know okay. I know, but I haven’t felt at home in over a year. I just want to spend today here. Tomorrow I will tell everyone of my resurrection but right now I just want a nap. You and Remus can stay if you want, I really don’t care. As long as I get a nap on the couch, I’m okay. I will gather everyone tomorrow but today is just..” Regulus sighed, a visible weight lifting from his shoulders. “Just for me. Is that okay?” Regulus asked. Sirius stayed silent a moment. He glanced around the living room. He shrugged, looking back at Regulus.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Regulus slipped his shoes off, setting them next to his cane, and laid across the couch. You pulled back from James, wiping at your eyes. You headed off for the bedroom, tearing open the closet. You pulled down Regulus’ pillow and brought it back to the living room. Regulus gave you a soft smile and gently took the pillow from your hands. He set it down before quickly sandwiching your hands between his. He was warm, not cold like a dead body. Maybe he was real. Regulus stared up at you.

“I learned how to cook traditional French dishes,” Remus said, picking at one of the boxes. Regulus hummed. He was on the brink of sleep but still wanted Remus to feel heard. “You should come over for dinner some night.” Regulus nodded against his pillow. Remus left after SIrius and not long after you heard SIrius’ motorcycle fade away. You imagined Remus’ long legs cramped behind Sirius on the back of his bike and snorted.

“I love you, you know that? Every day I wasn’t here I worried for you. I missed you so much I’d feel sick. I’m sorry I left like that.” Regulus said. Your eyebrows pinched and you sank your teeth into your bottom lip, trying your hardest to not cry again. You nodded. Regulus hummed and pressed your palm to his lips. You sighed and rubbed his cheek lightly. He dropped your hands and laid back on the couch, now with his pillow propped behind his head.

Regulus turned onto his side, clutching his stuffed animal to his chest. He pulled his blanket up to his nose. Sirius stood next to Regulus, brushing hair out of his face and gently rubbing his cheek before roughly smacking him and messing up his hair again. Regulus groaned and swatted his hands away. Sirius pulled back and slipped out the front door.

“Mon Soleil?” Regulus whispered into his blanket. You glanced at James, watching his water line fill.

“छोटा राजा?” James whispered, his voice fragile. You looked back to Regulus. His eyes were still closed.

When James heard Regulus’ snores next to his ear he slid the bookmark into their place and set it on the coffee table. James leaned his head back, resting it on the couch armrest. You sighed, watching Regulus sleep peacefully.

“Read to me?” Regulus asked. James nodded and grabbed the book Regulus pulled from the box off the coffee table. James sat on the floor next to where Regulus head was on the couch. He opened the book to the page they left off last time, and you felt like James might cry. He started reading and as he went on you started to wish Regulus had given you a task too. You were just standing there watching them. You quietly joined James on the floor. You sat a foot and a half away from James. He paused his sentence for a second to look up at you and give you a soft smile. You returned it and slipped a hand under Regulus’ blanket. It probably smelled like the attic but Regulus didn’t seem to care, snoozing away. You rested your hand on his hip, lightly rubbing it before getting your hand to sit. You wished to hold his hand but one was clutching his stuffed animal and the other was pressing his blanket to his face.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” You whispered, not wanting to wake up Regulus. James turned his head to face you. He reached over and held onto your other hand, kissing the back. He nodded and looked over towards the wall.

“I feel like we shouldn’t go to sleep because when we wake up, the boxes will be back in the attic. Sirius will be back on the couch and we’ll be sitting on the bed sobbing together.”James whispered. You humed. You slipped your thumb under the edge of Regulus’ shirt, pressing your finger into his warm skin.

“He won’t be warm anymore.” You muttered, eyes still caught on Regulus. James’ thumb rubbed against the back of your hand. You wondered if he was testing to see if you were warm still.

“We’ll visit his grave on Wednesday together and wonder if those wild animals were well fed. If it was all worth it. Stare down at the dirt and know six feet under is an empty wooden box with nothing but a copy of Regulus’ favorite poetry book inside.” James’ voice wobbled and you gripped his hand tighter.

“I thought every day that I would wake up and it’d all be a nightmare. I was just dreaming. All those crime shows got to me and my brain inserted me into an episode while I was sleeping. Every morning I’d wake up to find out we were still planning his funeral. I thought I was dead for a while. Thought this was my punishment for not recycling enough or something.” You said, pressing your thumb further into Regulus’ skin. Not to hurt him, but you needed to feel his pulse.

“I can’t go back there,” James whispered.

“Then maybe we go to sleep tonight. Maybe we’ll wake up and he’ll be in bed with us.” You said giving the side of James' face a sour smile.

“Then we start again. We heal again.” James gave you a sad look and stared ahead again. You decided to lighten the mood a little. “And we had a freaky joint dream.” James snorted. He sniffed and stared down at his lap. He kissed the back of your hand again. You focused on Regulus’ skin under your finger. Still warm.

“And if we wake up to find ourselves right back where we started? What then?” James asked, turning his head to face you. You paused for a moment and let his words stir in your head. You thought about getting thrown right back into that dark and messy place.

You didn’t take showers unless Mary forced you and you hated yourself for everything you did. Why didn’t you stop Regulus and tell him to stay home that day? Why didn’t you drive him to work yourself? Why didn’t you deviate from your routine, anything to save Regulus’ life? And when you got over what ifs that could’ve stopped this all from happening, then you hated yourself for not helping James more. Why couldn’t you take care of him? His parents called every day and he could barely pull himself out of bed to answer the phone. You couldn’t look away from the floor to pick the phone up. You picked apart yourself with sharp nails and then let your pieces rot into something awful that barely resembled yourself anymore. All in the name of grief.

“So sorry to break up such a sweet moment, however I am trying to sleep. So if you two could shut up: that’d be preferable. “ You heard Regulus say. James turned his head back, glancing at Regulus. He looked back at you.

“Seems pretty real to me.” You whispered.

Regulus stayed true to his word, calling every one of your friends to your home. When he joined them in the living room there were screams and cries and most definitely noise complaints from the neighbors. Barty fell to his knees, taking Regulus down with him, and sobbed into his hair. He was an ugly crier too, saliva connecting his two lips when he opened his mouth in a silent cry.

Dorcas and Evan were quick to join them on the floor, wrapping Regulus up in a sea of arms. Probably the first body of water he felt comfortable in a while.

Eventually, Regulus made it to his feet, giving everyone their own hug. Peter told him he had books he found that Regulus would enjoy. Mary smacked him on the back of the head and told him to brighten the fuck up before dragging him into a tight hug. Lily told him she had a new bread recipe she’d been meaning to try. Marlene cracked a stupid joke through her tears and lightly punched Regulus in the arm. Regulus made it to Pandora and she pulled him to her chest, squeezing him as tight as she could.

“I didn’t see this.” She whispered in his hair. Regulus gripped her back just as tight.

You all had a warm dinner made by Remus and Lily. Regulus and Sirius share a nostalgic look after the first bite. You didn’t have a big enough table so you all crowded into the living room, gathering around the rug. Regulus earned a spot on the couch. Barty was at his feet, arms wrapped around Regulus’ leg.

James shot up halfway through dinner, dashing across the house. He came back with his camera. He took one shot of everyone in the living room before turning the camera around and squeezing himself into frame too. He labeled them both ‘Regulus’ first family dinner back’ on the backs. He added the date and set the camera and photos on the kitchen counter deciding to deal with them later.

On his way back into the living room, he kissed you before pecking Regulus on the cheek. As he settled back into his seat on the floor, the group broke into ruckus laughter from a joke Sirius made. Sirius beamed and your and James’ eyes shot for Regulus. You found him snorting out his tea through his nose. His pain, disgust, and laughter all conjoined and you knew when you woke up tomorrow, he’d once again be in your bed. Warm.

#jegulus x reader #jeggy #jegulus #james potter x regulus black #james x regulus #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter #regulus black #regulus black x reader #james loves regulus #regulus deserved better #regulus post cave #regulus potter #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era

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sitp-recs · 3 months ago

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top 5 rare pairs? :)

Hi lovely, thank you so much! As you know I love babbling about these, kind feel bad that I didn’t include any femslash but I wanted to keep this short and include some sneaky recs as always :D hope that’s ok, would love to see your picks too!

1. HARRY/TEDDY MY BELOVED, sometimes I feel like I love them as much as Drarry as my adoration for Teddy Lupin (and Harry’s too, I’m sure) goes beyond this life, and the next. as always a big shoutout to @lqtraintracks for single-handedly seducing me into this ship back in 2012, thank you for your service 🫡

2. Harry/Ron, things like this fic by @writcraft and this post suggest that friends to lovers might be in fact the ultimate trope. it took me so long to get into the idea of them as a romantic ship, and even longer to start reading it because I’m picky af, but after I did they started living rent free in my head and there’s no way back. rip liv 🤡

3. Harry/Ron/Draco because I really wanted to include a triad, also a bit picky about them but @tackytigerfic’s foundational Aim For My Heart punched me in the solar plexus with feelings (ugh!!!), and I can’t really resist the pull now that @dronarryfest exists. I’ll take this chance to also mention my love for Dron which has superb fics like this and this, a really fun and refreshing ship with its own brand of humor and angst.

4. Harry/Sirius, look I’m a simple woman with simple fandom needs and age gap covers most of them lol I don’t read it very often but I ache for the angst potential of those hotdirtywrong vibes & delicious want x guilt moral dilemma that our Sirry champion @lqtraintracks explores so well. orrr we can go the hot & sweet route and still get ruined by tender wall sex, how dare you @maesterchill

5. Draco/Albus Severus is on this list solely bc of birdsofshore’s invaluable contribution including my all-time favorite pwp, and also my pal @sweet-s0rr0w who gifted me this breathtaking T-rated gem, how lucky am I!!!

Bonus: special mention to Sirius/Draco which I hadn’t considered before being slapped in the face by this gem by @ruinsplume and this gem by one @citrusses you might have heard of her 😌

ask me my top 5/10 anything!

#oops this became another rec list #ask game #citrusses 🍊#thank you pal!

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 5 months ago

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A witchcraft basics doc; update, resource call, interest check, and a possible second doc

Bet most of you didn't even know I was working on this >:D

Yes this is a huge post. It's a lot of things.

So, one of my first posts ever on this blog was me mentioning that a friend of mine had NO clue what they were signing up for when asking for the basics of witchcraft. The google doc I wrote took on a life of its own, and the post did as well when people started asking for it. I still plan to tag said people when I post it, assuming they haven't deactivated. The thing is, this doc had become a proper project, and it took a long time for me to have the motivation to work on it again. Now, though, it seems to me like a damn good way to reconnect to my craft after a rut! (which, by the way, is why I've been offline.)

So, my first post back is for a couple of reasons. For one, if you have any resources you'd think would be useful for beginner witches, feel free to shoot me an ask, DM, or comment/reblog on this post! I'll have a list of things I'm putting in the doc (taking recommendations there as well) at the bottom of this post.

The other thing is that I might end up making a second doc, one that's a little less "101" in vibe. It would have a MAJOR MAJOR UPG warning on it, first off, and I'm not sure whether or not I would be marking any UPG either since this would essentially be a second Grimoire/Book of Shadows for me that would be public to others for the sake of sharing information! I can't say I'd call it "advanced witchcraft" by any means, I'm not very fancy lol, but I don't want the basics doc to get too overwhelming. I do, however, want to scream about random witchcraft topics that interest me. So this is also a bit of an interest check for that, as well as the basics doc.

FINAL NOTE: I fully plan on posting this basics doc before it's done. Some sections will be unwritten or unfinished, because if I wait until I find it "finished" I'll never post it. It's going to be added onto whenever I can, but I feel as though getting it out is the best course of action.

A list of stuff in the doc that I'd take resources on (AKA everything planned in it) with * by anything that will be left unwritten/unfinished on purpose until I know more. I will take resources and recommendations on EVERYTHING though. This is in no particular order:

grounding and centering

VOCAB (intention, intuition, UPG/SPG/VPG, appropriation. probably others I'm forgetting.

candle, plant, crystals and safety* (as well as any other tools one might need safety tips for. This is left completely unwritten as I use very few tools of this type.)

deity work* (the whole debate surrounding when to start, as well as information about it. Will include smth about house rules/boundaries. My work is very casual, I'd love to see different POV's of this! This is by nature left unfinished because deity work is so unique to the witch.)

grimoire/book of shadows

tools of the craft* (common tools and how to use them consumerism in witchcraft, etc.)

cleansing

appropriation* (I don't know near enough about this, I just check what's in my own practice. I would like this to include a list of commonly appropriated closed practices, a definition of appropriation and why it shouldn't be done, open pantheons, and common open practices.)

spellwork*

meditation

where someone could go from here* (including sigils, tarot, crystals bc my friend likes rocks lol, maybe astrology but oh god I have nothing about that it makes my brain hurt just looking at an astrology chart /pos. I will probably make a list of stuff that I could add in this section.)

casual/daily/quick/low energy practices and witchcraft

paganism and witchcraft; overlap, what they are individually, why one might be for you rather than the other, etc.*

there'd be a credit section for anyone who wants to be credited for links/resources at the end! If you send me resources plz specify if you want to be included in that or not.

Things I might include in the second doc if I make it:

the craft and mental health and my experiences with it

things commonly touched on in the community (your deities don't hate you, cycles of inactivity and burnout, other things I'm forgetting rn)

deity-specific things, more specific topics of the craft, etc. yet another reminder that this would all include UPG, possibly unmarked, because it would basically be primarily used to give me motivation to research more.

#witchblr #witchcraft #paganism #pagan witch #witch community #witch blog #deity work #paganblr #eclectic pagan #pagan #beginner witch #baby witch #witch tips #witchy

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asimplearchivist · 1 year ago

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‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader word count ☾ 15.7k a/n ☽ [gif credit] ⤏ aka my personal love letter to one steven grant (and myself, because I want to be loved like I love just once).⤏ i am going to be completely honest on this one, guys: this is a borderline self-insert fic that is 100% self-indulgent on my part bc i have felt like shit the last two months and want to treat myself. ⤏ i kept it as a reader-insert because a) some people (including myself) enjoy experiencing different ‘pov’s of reader-inserts, per se; b) it’s easier to be kinder to and romanticize myself when it’s ‘not me’; and c) i feel that it’s still vague/inclusive enough to be counted as a general reader-insert versus labeling it strictly as a self-insert/original character. i really only describe personality traits and the reader being petite, really (bc nothing comforts my 5’0” ass more than knowing i would actually be able to kiss the boys without craning my neck all the way back tbh). i use a few southern colloquialisms, too, just fyi. :) ⤏ typical moon knight fanfic disclaimer: I don’t claim to know very much about did beyond what I’ve gleaned from both the show, the various meta posts I’ve read on tumblr, and from other fanfics themselves, so please forgive and correct me on any glaring discrepancies/issues I may have presented here (or link me any posts that discuss more accurate representations of did, perhaps—that’d be greatly appreciated). some of the terminology/technicalities escape me. I tried my best to get their voices and characterizations just right, and I sincerely hope I succeeded bc they’re very special to me. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven met you, it was strictly by happenstance.

He had always considered himself a man with many friends. Although his routine was relatively simple compared to other Londoners who thrived in social settings and spent all of their free time anywhere but home to mingle and chase tail, he had familiar faces he saw frequently. He committed their names to memory when they’d give them off-handedly, he made a point to speak to them in passing even if he or they were otherwise occupied, and he kept a mental list composed of all the details he was able to glean strictly from observation when they didn’t readily volunteer the information.

Perhaps it was a little silly. All lot of them had trouble remembering him, sure, but he couldn’t hold it against them—tons of people had trouble keeping track of faces and people. Sure, JB never quite got his name right even after Steven had worked at the museum for a couple of months by now, but he was a busy man monitoring the security cameras all day long and stayed distracted (with his infatuation with otters, no less—as endearing of a trait as any for someone with a secret soft side). Donna stayed in a tizzy, always worked up over something beyond her control (Steven couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be dealing with the higher-ups trying to meet goals and attempting to exceed them). He didn’t really dislike them for it, even if it had grown rather grating as of late. (Even if it would only take them both a moment to look at his conveniently given and placed nametag.)

Crowley didn’t talk much, all part of the gig, so Steven didn’t hold their one-sided conversations against him, either. The gentleman with the broom cart (whose name Steven never had managed to catch, as gruff as he was) seemed only to ever respond with grunts. The security guards, the tour guides, the usual suspects on the morning and night bus rides…Steven interacted with them all, and they had enough good graces to acknowledge it most of the time.

Over time, however, as his dreams (or perhaps more aptly named nightmares) grew more vivid and more bizarre, as he seemed to lose track of time more and more (how exactly does one manage to miss an entire weekend when one isn’t a blackout drunk?), and as Steven’s anxiety led him into taking more and more precautions to make sure his self-diagnosed sleepwalking disorder didn’t strand him on the other side of London (again), it became more readily apparent that those people with whom he took such care to converse did not seem particularly inclined to return the favor. Sure, he’d accidentally nodded off a few times leaning on the other passengers in the morning bus, ran a little late at times getting to the museum (much to Donna’s ever-increasing ire), and maybe got a little carried away with his nattering when he got invested in something he was excited to share information about, but…would it really kill someone just to respond long enough to reassure him that he wasn’t virtually invisible?

It was one such morning after he overslept, convinced he was late, and worked himself into a right and proper state trying to get to the museum on time that he realized that it was, in fact, Sunday, not Saturday. Much to his bewilderment but proven by his phone, the museum stood barren and closed, doors locked and lights off. He stood at the entrance staring at his dumbfounded expression in the glass for a good five minutes, thoughts racing as he tried to recall anything about the previous day. There was no way he slept an entire day, right? He hadn’t been staying up too late trying to manage his disorder, even if he had been running a little tired lately.

His distress was punctuated by a fat, chilly droplet landing right on his nose. The early spring weather was unseasonably cold this year, leading to an abnormally wet season (as if rain could ever be abnormal in London, but the meteorologists remained convinced), and within seconds of Steven turning and trotting down the steps the skies parted and released their torrential downpour as if just to spite him specifically. Everyone else in the immediate vicinity, if they weren’t holed up in their cars or the myriad establishments bordering the museum district, already had their umbrellas up to shield themselves from the frigid onslaught, ambling along and circumnavigating the puddles lingering from the storm the night before..

Steven shrank into his coat, tugging the collar up and over his head as best he could as he crossed the street and aimed for the first building he saw with its neon, ivory OPEN sign glowing against the gloom—on the corner directly across from the museum entrance. The door was heavy, the handle cold enough he was surprised his palm didn’t stick to it, but he managed to pry it open and tumble inside.

A few people glanced up from their tables to give him a range of skeptical to humored looks before going about their business. Steven hedged to the side of the door in case someone else came in, dripping onto the old hardwood with no small amount of regret.

It was a coffee shop. Comfortingly warm against his numb face, he basked in the scents of espresso and sweets permeating the place. His attention was caught by the bookshelves on the wall to his right, and he was entranced—all until a barista slipped out from the kitchen and addressed him with a croon. “Oh, goodness, look like the weather caught you!”

Steven almost accidentally ignored you thinking that you were talking to someone else (for so rarely did someone speak to him in a tone that wasn’t irritated or dismissive). After his cursory glance in your direction, he did a double-take, realizing you were looking right at him.

“Yeah, I—looked at the forecast wrong, methinks!” he responded sheepishly (and he had—he’d been expecting Saturday’s overcast mist, not Sunday’s shower). “I’m makin’ a right mess, aren’t I? I should probably go before I warp the stain—”

“No! No, just wait a second.” You raised a placating palm before dipping below sight behind the counter. You emerged and rounded the corner next to the display case holding a towel, walking right up to him and offering it to him with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t count the number of times I thought I could beat Mother Nature,” you joked. “It sucks that it’s been so cold on top of it. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten sick.”

Steven accepted it graciously, muttering his earnest thanks as he went about mopping up his sopping curls. Once he’d wiped all the rain he could off of him, he handed it back to you. “Hope I don’t get one, neither,” he responded. “It just wouldn’t do to catch cold in the middle of all this, would it? No.”

You chuckled a bit, eyes glittering with mirth. “Maybe it’ll help if I get you something hot to drink?”

Steven glanced at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter, eyes rounding a little at the prices. He’d overspent on books again after payday, so he was having to be a bit more frugal this week than usual. “Oh, no, don’t go to the trouble, I’ll just call a cab and get a ride home before it gets too bad.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, wringing the towel between your hands. You hesitated only a heartbeat before you leaned in a little closer, smile turning a bit bashful. “I’ll make it on the house, how’s that sound?”

Steven normally considered himself one to give where charity was concerned, but he had to admit that the sound of something warm on his urgently empty stomach was divine at the moment. He cleared his throat, glancing towards the other customers still wrapped up in their own little worlds. “No, I couldn’t—wouldn’t want anyone jealous that they’re not gettin’ the special treatment, you know.”

“It can be our little secret,” you offered quietly, winking conspiratorially at him.

He blinked, heat creeping up into his face. “Oh, well. If you insist, then…just this once?”

“All right.” Your smile lit up your entire face, and you headed back behind the counter to deposit the towel in an unseen hamper.

Steven followed, training his eyes on the menu—the standard fare was reasonable, with alternative options for dietary restrictions. A lot of the custom concoctions did seem lovely, and he was a tad surprised to discover that they served breakfast and lunch, also—with vegan options, most notably. “Wow, I never even knew this place existed. I must’ve been walkin’ right by it this whole time.”

“Do you work at the museum?” you inquired, folding your arms over the counter and propping your chin up in your palm.

“I do, actually,” he beamed, though it was dashed a tad with his next confession. “I want to be a tour guide one day—you know, I’ve been studyin’ up for it and all—but they’ve got me in the gift shop. For now! They said they’d move me up with a new position becomes available.” They said that they would consider him for the role, but Steven clung to his hope that they’d soon realize how bloody good he’d be at it, as hard as he’d been working for it for so long.

“You always have to start somewhere,” you replied warmly. You gestured to the shop around you. “This is just to hold me over ‘til I’m finished up.”

“Are you a transfer student?” Steven asked.

Your brow rose slightly, but your smile didn’t waver. “How observant. Most people ask me how I got lost on this side of the pond.”

“It isn’t often I see Americans anywhere but in the more touristy spots,” he agreed, “but the university is quite prestigious. You must be very academically successful if you landed a transfer scholarship like that.”

“It took a lot of work,” you admitted, “but it’s been worth it. I never thought I’d do anything like this, and I would’ve laughed at you a couple of years ago if you’d told me I’d move this far away from home. I’ve never really been the traveling type, but I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”

“What are you studyin’?” Steven inquired. An English major, perhaps—you struck him as the literary type with your articulation, despite your soft, southern drawl.

“Oh.” Your face darkened and you fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt—dark gray, warm flannel, with a silver astronomical design embroidered into the front. “Well. I went to a university back home and got a degree in writing—” Nailed it! “—but I was notified at graduation that I qualified for this so I thought why not? It’s a bit self-indulgent, really, as I’ve always been a history nut, but I’m, um…” You reached up and scratched the nape of your neck, glancing away as though embarrassed. “...focusing on Egyptology?”

Steven’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “No kiddin’!”

“Nope,” you confessed, a bit sheepish. “I picked up a book with pictures of King Tutankhamun’s treasures when I was three and I’ve been in love with it since. Maybe it’s a little niche, but it makes me happy—I’m taking other history classes, too, so I’ll end up with an Ancient History major with a minor in Egyptology—that’s just my main focus since I always wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was little. I don’t know that I could ever stand the heat, though, so I’m happy with writing in the comfort of my own home.”

“No, that’s great!” he raved, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a bit of a history buff meself! The museum has a huge Egyptology exhibit coming up next month, so I’ve been brushin’ up on it all. You know, in case I get to audition.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tried, emerging from your shell just a bit. “Do you have a favorite period?”

“New Kingdom, definitely,” he said immediately. His heart was thrumming, and he was trying (in vain) to contain at least the majority of his enthusiasm. “There’s just so much material to go through. All the texts recovered from Deir el-Medina fascinate me to no end!”

“Yeah, Paneb was a right bastard,” you joked. “He had the whole town stirred up all the time. But we’re not going to talk about Ea-Nasir.”

“Oh, yeah—imagine keepin’ all your hate mail for posterity,” he returned, strumming his fingers against the inside of his sleeves. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an Old Kingdom gal,” you said with a chuckle. “Pepi II’s letter about the pygmy won me over. Not to mention all the drama with Teti’s assassination. The workmen’s village at Giza? Oh, how could I pick one thing?”

Finally! Finally, it felt like Steven was talking to someone that spoke his language!

“It’s really hard to, isn’t it?” His stomach was starting to grumble. He cleared his throat, tamping down his anticipation just enough to concentrate on the matter at hand. He glanced up at the menu again, a little remiss with some of the unfamiliar choices—most of those displayed were coffee, but he’d been trying to curb himself off of it in favor of cutting out caffeine altogether for a better sleep schedule. “I, um…sorry, got a little sidetracked there. What would you recommend that’s decaf?”

“Oh, I love chai,” you told him. “Most of the teas we carry are decaf, though we do have decaf coffee, too. We’ve got all the usuals like chamomile, mint, Earl Grey…” You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine since I was a teenager—it makes me antsy.”

“How do you normally take your chai?” he queried, curious.

“As an iced latte,” you said. “Cold foam, cinnamon, whole milk. I like it warm, too, especially this time of year, but there’s something about it iced that I can’t seem to part from—maybe that’s the southern upbringing in me.” You gestured to the equipment behind you. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure! But with oat milk, please?”

“You’ve got it, darlin’,” you beamed, and set to work immediately. “I usually drink a small since it’s a bit sweet, that okay?”

“Certainly.”

Never would Steven have thought that he’d find such a deeply kindred soul a stone’s throw away from his workplace he’d never even noticed before today. He had to confess that he was charmed by you almost instantly. It had been a while since he’d met someone so engaging and open—not to mention generous and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! Ironic, really, that the foreigner was treating him more kindly than his native kinsmen. What did the Americans say about southern hospitality?

“Thank you so much,” he said when you returned with the cup and set it in front of him. “It looks great!”

“Go ahead and try it,” you suggested, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it for you with something else.”

Steven had absolutely no intention of telling you to your face that he disliked your favorite beverage, even if he did decide it wasn’t to his taste—much less make you go out of your way to make him another free drink. But as he sipped the heady, sweet mixture the spices melted over his tongue. Despite being served cold, the flavors warmed his mouth and settled cozily into his belly.

“Oh,” he suspired, licking the foam from his lips, “that’s lovely. You’ve won a convert.”

Your smile was nearly blinding with delight. “I’m glad! It’s not for everyone, certainly, but those who do like it always seem to love it. No in between, I guess.”

Steven resisted the urge to suck the entire thing down, folding it between his hands instead as he committed more details of your appearance to memory. Your black apron was a bit big for your frame, dwarfing you a bit, but your sweatshirt did, too—your jeans were well-fitted but not snug. You were wearing very little makeup, just a touch around the eyes, but it emphasized your lashes like a fawn’s. While comfortable, if a bit plain, your ensemble made you seem like the epitome of homey.

“How long have you lived in London?” he asked after another delightful sip.

“Since the start of spring semester,” you said. “It was a big adjustment to show up at the tail end of winter, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it now for the most part. I still get lost occasionally, but that’s why Google Maps was invented. I’d be up a creek without a paddle without it.” You leaned against the counter again, bracing yourself on the stained surface and gazing up at him as if there existed no other person in the world. “I live right next to the campus, but I work here to get away even though my scholarships carry most of my bills and fees. Ironic, though, ‘cause I don’t exactly consider myself a socialite.”

“You’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “Bit odd bein’ an ambivert, yeah?”

“I really only talk a lot when I get excited or when I’m with people I’m comfortable being around,” you confessed shyly. “I’ve been told I talk too much about stuff nobody really cares about, so I try not to bother anyone.”

“Now who on earth would have gone and told you that?” he pressed, heart aching all the while. How many times had he been told the very same thing, sometimes with less polite wording?

“Oh, not exactly like that,” you rectified in a hurry, “it’s just…you can tell, you know? When someone isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. I usually get interrupted anyway, so sometimes I find it easier just to keep quiet.” Your skin darkened again, and cleared your throat as you dipped your face to conceal it with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went into all that. See? Rambling too much—words got away from me.”

It was like looking into a mirror—so much so that Steven almost felt a bit of deja-vu.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “I understand completely—really, I do. Better than you might think.”

You raised your gaze back up to him, and he understood at once why the philosophers and poets both waxed so romantic on the concept of windows to the soul. He could see your tenderness, your diffidence, your sincerity all there in your jewel-like eyes.

“People talkin’ over you all the time,” he continued with a low murmur, looking down at the cup when the intensity of your stare grew too much—just like looking directly into the sun, “actin’ like you’re invisible or somethin’. Gets frustratin’, yeah? Couldn’t even bother to act like you’re there, could they? No. Seems like too much to ask.”

“Yeah,” you said somberly, but when Steven dared a glance up at you, your expression was one of complete understanding. Never before had he felt so seen. “It doesn’t help when you’re really not a people person to begin with.”

And now that Steven considered it more deeply, he realized that you were right—why did he prefer to stay home rather than go out? Keeping company with a goldfish certainly wasn’t an extrovert’s definition of a good time. Hell, the only reason he really went out of his way to engage with those on the fringes of his daily routine was because he felt it was rude not to because of constant exposure, not because he was itching to have the conversations themselves. He worried constantly that he’d overshare or annoy people, when most wouldn’t even think of it.

He let out a soft laugh, pressing a palm across his forehead.

You quirked a brow, your expression perking up just a bit at the sound. “What?”

“I just realized I’m not really a people person, either,” he said, shaking his head. “Thought all this time everyone else was just awkward at social interaction.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, and there was that ephemeral sparkle of mirth back in your eyes. “Well. Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He paused, then set the drink on the counter to fish around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, since you’ve been an absolute angel—”

“Oh, no, please,” you said, waving your palms at him in an attempt to dissuade him, “it was my pleasure. Finding someone else as big of a nerd about Ancient Egypt was tip enough, thank you. You’ve made my whole day.”

And even though his morning thus far had been an utter disaster, Steven believed that you had made his entire day, too.

“Well, all right.” He pointed a finger at you with a wry, toothy grin. “But next time you won’t be able to talk me out of it.”

“Next time?” you echoed, and the unadulterated hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

“Yeah,” he said, “where else will I be able to order the ambrosia of the gods? And nerd out about ancient civilizations? Not all baristas carry a double-edged sword like you do.”

You bit your lip, rolled the hem of your sleeve between your fingertips, and looked down and away. “Oh, stop it. It’s really just a hobby.” You gave him another cheeky smile. “But, if it would make a difference to you, since you seem the type…” You leaned in across the counter, and Steven found himself copying the action as though you had magnetized him. “...there’s a bookstore upstairs, too.”

Oh, bloody Nora, as if you weren’t already perfect enough.

It wasn’t until Steven returned home, soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold that seeped into his bones after running from the cab into the apartment building, that he realized he hadn’t thought to ask you for your name. And he was normally so reliable about it, too! He kicked himself for it the rest of the day. He hadn’t even looked to see if you’d been wearing a name tag (pretty sure you weren’t, because he would have noticed it, surely), but he had been so disarmed by you in general that every other thought had flown from his brain.

After that, with the scribbled ingredients on the cup immortalized forever via a picture saved on his phone, he developed a fast habit of stopping by there at least three times a week. He had to rearrange his budget just a tad to ensure it did not turn into blatant overspending, but all the teas were excellent and the food was even better. Oftentimes he’d grab at least one meal from there one the days he did decide to go, which varied depending on how terribly he’d slept the night before. Most of the time he opted for lunch since he was afforded only a half-hour break and it was the closest spot to the museum. (The vending machines didn’t have much in the way of variety, vegan options notwithstanding.)

He learned your name the next time he saw you, which had taken a couple of separate attempts—evidently you’d been filling in for someone else for extra hours that dreary morning, as you usually came in for the closing shift during the week due to your morning classes, and typically were station in the bookstore upstairs, at that. You’d confessed that a lot of the part-timers were still inexperienced, and the staff oscillated so much that you had to juggle multiple positions throughout the week in order for the business to keep up efficiency.

Steven decided, at some indeterminate point a couple of weeks later, that you must be sunshine incarnate. Even if there was barely any daylight seeping through the brumous mantle looming over the sleepy city, you lit up the place with your warm smile, easy laughter, and gentle soul. He could spend countless hours talking to you, although he was usually only limited to the time allotted between him ordering and someone else coming in to do the same. After he got off work late after inventory (again), on the rare occasion that he’d missed lunch and needed supper, you gave him some of the free handouts the employees were allowed to take home and let him sit and talk while you locked the place up.

It was just so easy. Where he’d struggled to even introduce himself properly without making himself out to be a bumbling fool with everyone else with whom he’d interacted, fighting against an invisible current of perceived disapproval and rejection, engaging with you was as natural as breathing. You shared so many adjacent passions with him, the both of you had never once run out of topics to peruse. When either you or he would bring up something with which the other was unfamiliar, all ears would be given in total enrapturement. You got him. You understood him. It was such a relief to have finally found someone with whom he felt comfortable enough to natter on about the Edwin Smith papyrus for a solid thirty minutes without ever losing interest. Neither still had he stopped to imagine what it would be like to be so caught up in what someone else had to say, because you sure knew a hell of a lot about mythology, too—listening to your humored yet romanticized renditions of the tales delighted him to no end.

Your book recommendations were always impeccable, likewise—although you did primarily focus on fiction unless conducting research for your own books, your taste in storytelling relied upon well-developed, detailed, and impactful characters that carried the plot rather than the other way around. (You seemed to genuinely enjoy all of his recommendations, too, despite your general avoidance of nonfiction other than history, much to his relief.) You had a soft spot for romance, whether it was found in modern, historical fiction, fantasy, or sci-fi settings, and Steven took careful note of your mentioned favorite stories, scenes, and characters when he read them himself. You’d both even started annotating and trading books to exchange reviews, and your infectious adoration of certain authors and series decidedly did not help his book collecting problem—although you confessed that you shared the same issue (only to your bank account, though). The used section of the bookstore upstairs was his dream, really—he never thought he’d manage it, naively, but he was actually starting to run out of bookshelves in his flat.

You were fiercely intelligent, hilariously witty, and unbelievably kind—a breath of fresh air where London normally left him suffocated. You were the one ray of sunlight that could pierce the gloom that would encroach on the fringes of his mood no matter how badly he felt. Visiting you was the one routine that kept him grounded, even when he only seemed to lose track of more and more time as he went along—it kept him sane, seeing the way your whole face would light up like a supernova whenever he’d slip through the door. It made him feel normal.

So when a full month had flown by since your first meeting (a happenstance for which Steven would be eternally grateful), he found himself relying on your anchoring presence more and more. The occasions that he was waking up from sleepwalking in completely random places around London were increasing at a worrying rate. No matter how many additional precautions he added to his flat in feeble attempts to keep track of and prevent the episodes (each one perhaps sillier than the last), he never could seem to determine any rhyme or reason for them. His dreams (and sometimes they edged into the territory of nightmares) were growing more frighteningly vivid and visceral by the night, even if he was following every technique suggested by Google to help mitigate his condition.

The evidence was stacking up more rapidly against everything that he’d thought he knew than Steven could neither comprehend nor keep up with—despite thinking that nothing about him could ever be anything but ordinary, a small part of him was truly starting to wonder whether he’d somehow dodged a psychiatric diagnosis all of his life. He felt like he was going mad, watching the lines between what he’d thought were conjurations of his sleep-deprived mind and what he’d been convinced was reality inexplicably blurring beyond any conceivable recognition. ( Was he mad? Had he always been mad?)

Dreaming that he had woken up in the Alps with a frankly ludicrous series of events following shortly thereafter was one thing—the angry booming voice in his head notwithstanding. Discovering that Gus had been mysteriously replaced overnight was another (because there was no way he had regrown a fin—he’d double-checked every pet site reputable enough). Finding out that he had lost track of an entire weekend, accidentally standing up a date he didn’t even recall initiating in the process, almost pushed him over the edge—it had certainly dragged him to it, nevertheless.

Then the secret compartment in his flat, the burner phone and mysterious key, the countless missed calls from a stranger named Layla, who had sounded so deathly worried about whoever in the bloody hell Marc was…Steven didn’t even want to think about the second new voice in his, grave and severe and sounding a little too much like his own to be of any significant comfort, or the mummified apparition of a plague doctor, or Lovecraftian eldritch horror, or previously undocumented cryptid that suddenly decided to start haunting him, for that matter.

But Harrow was real. His odd little cane with the creepy, glowy eyes was real. The magic scales tattoo on his arm that moved without him flexing his arm and changed colors on its own was real. His followers were very, very real. That jackal, with the frothing, rabid, snapping teeth and the milky, glassy eyes and the malnourished, gangly limbs and the wicked, scrabbling claws and the deathly, musty stench was, somehow, terrifyingly real, despite having been invisible to the security cameras.

The security cameras that had captured Steven’s own grim scowl, resolute brow, and defiant, dark eyes—but it wasn't Steven, because he didn’t look like that, even though he shared the same face with the stranger on the footage.

Marc. His name was Marc.

Why is he stuck in my bloody head?

Marc’s property damage, somehow having managed to kill the ghastly creature, if the lack of physical remains and other evidence indicated, and save his life ( ...their lives?) in the process—and at the very least, Marc had kept his word on that front—ultimately cost Steven his job. Several thousand pounds’ worth of property damage, in fact, which somehow Steven was going to have to be able to afford paying off (in increments, at least) to avoid legal prosecution—while also being suddenly and unexpectedly unemployed.

Bloody hell. The not-so-patient request to turn in his bloody nametag had somehow stung more than the pamphlet handed to him boasting the most excellent psychiatric care in the city.

(...He was mad, wasn’t he…? How had he not known? How had he missed all the signs?)

Left remiss with very few ears into which to confide, he spoke in Crowley, always the listening sort. He expelled his tizzied thoughts until he was able to regather them into some vague semblance of order, and decided his next course of action: to chase the one lead he had to hopefully deduce whoever Marc was. It seemed simple enough, although daunting. A simple image search would take him to the location associated with the logo attached to the keychain, perhaps the only source of answers to all the questions brimming in his harried head.

He wanted to know. (But should he?) He had to know. (...Did he really?)

Reeling with inconsolable stress, insurmountable anxiety, precarious emotions, and now the tumultuous internal debate of whether to delve into the affairs which Marc had warned him very explicitly not to, Steven turned to the only other person whose word he valued and trusted above all others in his immediate vicinity (save, perhaps, his mum).

It was mid-afternoon by the time he crept into the coffee shop, and fortunately it was vacant as a couple of university students breezed past him with paper sacks laden with books tucked into their arms and laughing raucously as they headed back out into the sunny spring day. Another barista was slumped behind the counter scrolling on her phone, so Steven knew you were stationed upstairs instead.

He picked his way gingerly up the winding wooden staircase, wincing every time his weight caused a plank to creak in protest. He avoided looking at the narrow windows for fear of seeing any more reflected shapes in them that he couldn’t control, eyes trained resolutely on his feet as he focused on regulating his harsh breathing in an attempt to manage his racing heart.

It was in this way that he ran right into you upon stepping into the bookstore proper. You carried a stack of new prints taller than your head and nearly dropped them all upon impact. Steven’s arms latched out to steady them and you, apologies already spilling from his lips before he could even think of a comprehensible reaction. “Oh, bullocks, sorry—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I should’ve been watchin’ where I was going— bloody hell, where’s my mind?”

“Steven,” you laughed breathlessly, recognizing his subdued voice and fluttering hands without even seeing him, “it’s okay! No harm done, see? Not a one dropped.” You lugged them over to the display table and set them down on the vacant surface with a soft grunt, swiping your sleeve over your shining forehead. “Whew! Updating all the new publications is a pain. My back’s killing me. I’ll definitely regret all this tomorrow.” You turned back to him, all sunshine and smiles with your terracotta sweater and the gold hoop earrings (clip-ons, he knew, because you’d never had them pierced) dangling amongst the loosened locks framing your face. “It seems a little early for your lunch break, Steven. Are you off today or have I just managed to lose track of time again?”

Your innocuous, innocently humored phrasing should not have sent him spiraling again, but…after the last week of hell that he’d endured, who in their right mind (because he surely wasn’t in his) could blame him for the already tenuous grip on reality he’d been clinging to with only whitened knuckles and sheer force of will?

Your expression fell instantly as tears welled more quickly in his eyes than he could reign them back in, slipping over his cheeks.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” he blurted, face burning as he reached up to swipe away the undeniable evidence of his breakdown—in front of you, of all people, Christ alive, he really was losing it—with the edge of his sleeve…to no avail. More tears followed immediately thereafter, blurring his vision, dripping from his chin as he ducked his head and buried his face behind his covered hands. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what’s come over me, I—”

There was a split second of silence on your end, though he scarcely noticed it but for his pulse raging in his ears and the deafening roar of his thoughts deafening him to any other sound. He barely registered your urgent call over your shoulder further into the bookstore, muffled by the harsh rasp of air dragging in and out of his lungs faster than he could dictate. He was shaking all over, adrenaline coursing through him a kilometer a minute, and his knees were on the verge of giving out from beneath him.

The warmth of your fingers curling gently—always so gentle, you were—around his wrists provided just enough of a distraction to open his eyes again, almost afraid of what he might see. But as you tugged his hands away from his dampened face, standing so close that your clothes were brushing against his and your breath fanned over his face, your eyes drew him in and dragged his thundering thoughts to a murky but much more manageable muddle.

Your brow was wrinkled with worry, mouth set in one of the few frowns he’d ever seen on your otherwise sunny disposition (even when harassed to no end by customers of the ruder variety, although your customer service smile was, decidedly, much colder and not nearly as welcoming). Your eyes were brimming with questions, but you uttered none of them, only, “Come on, there’s a quiet corner in the back.”

Steven allowed you to lead him by the hand like a child through the winding, ceiling-length bookcases into a musty reading niche set up with a lounge chair and ottoman next to a window spilling golden light onto the floor and highlighting every mote of dust that floated through its brilliant stream. You guided him to sink into the chair with a light hand on his shoulder, adjusting the ottoman back to give you enough room to sit directly in front of him. Your knees pressed into his, and when he shakily extended his trembling, open palms with a desperate snivel most people would have found repelling, you only laced your fingers with his and squeezed his hands tight enough to let him know that he could do the same.

“What’s wrong, Steven?” you murmured, beseeching him with your fractaled irises—the sunlight was illuminating every last shade and striation of color in them, more brilliant a palette than the shade ever granted justice. It gilded the edges of your features and the sweep of your fawn-like lashes in gold leaf. “Did something happen?”

Boy, didn’t everything happen—all during one weekend, no less?

The broken, wet laugh that leapt from his lips didn’t startle you, but it did make him jump. He lowered his gaze to focus on your hands clasped firmly in his, studying the creases in your palms, the whorls and arches of your fingerprints on your fingertips, and the light, faded smattering of scars in between—all to avoid the magnetic intensity of your gaze. “What hasn’t happened?” he croaked, throat burning with the effort it took to speak without loosing the gut-wrenching sob clawing ferociously at the pit of his belly. “I can’t sleep, I ruined my date, I lost my goldfish, I managed to get fired from the most pathetic excuse of a job anyone could get for something I didn’t even do, and I think I’m quite literally going mad.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting, feeling more tears slip out and trickle down his flushed cheeks. “Nothin’ seems real anymore. I can’t keep track of time. I’m seein’ things that would make an asylum patient have nightmares, but then it’s all comin’ back and tryin’ to eat me, and—” He clamped his mouth shut with a whimper, dropping his chin to his sternum to shut out the intrusive thoughts digging into the back of his mind. He unconsciously ripped his hands free from yours and knotted his fingers in his curls just to feel the ache. “—oh, God, I can’t—it’s too much, I—”

“ Steven, ” you said softly, hands threading through his arms to cradle his face and to thumb away his tears as you leaned in and nestled your forehead against his hairline, lips brushing his brow as you continued to murmur in a low, soothing tone that pierced through the noise like Apollo’s arrow, “it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you—nothing’s coming after you in here, okay? Just our quiet, little safe place. I want you to breathe with me, okay? Just a little, I know it’s hard to concentrate, but just try for me, okay? You can breathe between if you need to. Want to try? Okay. In…one, two, three, four…out…one, two, three, four. And again. That’s it. You’re doing so good, darlin’, just focus on me. Feel my hands? And my knees? The chair, your feet on the ground, my forehead. Smell the books, the candle, your cologne, my perfume? Hear the traffic outside, the music in the other room, my voice? Okay. Good. Look at me, Steven. Please?”

He raised his head, trembling still but not nearly as close to convulsions as he’d been mere minutes prior, and you interlocked your fingers with his once more to hold them between you as you drew back just enough to peer unflinching into his eyes.

“Good. There you are, darlin’.” Your gentle smile was as precious as molten gold. “You see the books, too?”

He nodded once, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Had you always looked so divine or was he still experiencing delusions?

…No. No, he couldn’t be, because there was nothing about you that wasn’t so blissfully, sincerely, relievingly real. You were just that ethereal. How had he never noticed it before?

“Okay.” You squeezed his fingers lightly. “Can you tell me one thing that you can taste?”

“My…my tea, from this morning. Ran out of oat milk so I had to drink it straight.”

“There we go.” Your expression tightened just slightly at the edges, scanning his own carefully. “Better? Just a little?”

“A bit, yeah.” He sniffled again, swallowing roughly and finally managing to look away. “Sorry about that. You know. For…breakin’ apart in the middle of your shop like that. You…you didn’t have to stop what you were doin’ just to give me a pep talk.”

Your brow furrowed. “Steven, you were having a panic attack. I wasn’t about to go back to sorting the BookTok smut table while you looked on the verge of collapse.” You shook your head slightly, as if in disbelief. “You wouldn’t have come to me for no reason, so I can take ten minutes to help you calm down. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken all morning and I haven’t had enough time to stop. I’ll be fine.” You squeezed his hands again. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I’d fix it if I could.”

Oh, how he wished that you could. He’d let you do anything you wanted if he could just feel normal again.

“Do you want to talk more about it?” you tried gently, tilting your face down to gaze up at him through those utterly enchanting lashes. “It’s okay if you don’t. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, for whatever you need, whether it’s to listen or just to sit with you.”

He swallowed, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, it’s—just complicated, yeah? A lot to take in. I really don’t mean to be a bother, I just needed—”

“Steven Grant, you are not a bother to me.” You single-handedly stole the breath you’d helped him regain not minutes prior. “You can tell me anything, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I…okay.” He drew in a deep, shaky breath, held it, and released it in a hiss from between his chattering teeth. “I’m…investigatin’ somethin’. It might be dangerous, I don’t know. But I’ve got too many questions to avoid it anymore and I…I’m scared. Terrified, really. Everything seems like it’s fallin’ apart and I’m losing grips on it the tighter I try to hold on.” He blinked away another fresh onslaught of tears filming over his eyes with no small amount of frustration. “I feel like it’s my only option, to move forward, you know? I just…wanted to make sure I’m not hallucinatin’ everything around me first.” And that was the reason he’d come here, wasn’t it? Because you never failed to make him feel safe and secure and human, no matter the storm.

You studied him for a long moment, considering. But instead of accusing him of being a loon, you only tipped your chin to seek out his gaze once more—and he, like a moth to flame, was inexorably drawn to it. “Do you want me to go with you?”

The offer took him by surprise, but he knew immediately that it shouldn’t have. You had a protective streak a mile wide—he’d observed it in your fierce defense of your coworkers against irate and lecherous customers alike, as well as the thinly contained fury you’d only had enough strength to withhold in all but your tone when he’d finally vented to you about Donna for the first time. As much as he’d like to see you rip out her cheaply applied extensions one by one until she cried, he had made you promise never to start a fight with her. That you would offer first to accompany him to a destination he’d unthinkingly labeled ‘dangerous’ before anything else, regardless of currently sitting in your workplace that demanded more of you than it ever should any single person, reassured him—but he couldn’t ask you to get involved. He wouldn’t, because it was dangerous—whatever was going on inside his head (and outside of it) was something he was increasingly suspecting was beyond the scope of his present comprehension. The last thing Steven wanted was to get you hurt, too, just by proximity.

“No,” he said firmly, and your brows rose slightly. “No, I don’t—thanks for the offer, I really appreciate it, but you shouldn’t…I don’t want you at risk.”

“I don’t want you at risk, either,” you pointed out softly.

“I…” Well, shit. “...I know. But I’ll be okay. I think. I know! I’m just going to take it real careful and just see, yeah? It’ll…it’ll turn out all right. Right? Yeah.”

Your grip tightened, and your gaze turned sharper than he’d ever seen it, even at your most agitated. Deadly serious, with no room for avoidance—as if he’d ever want to avoid you. “Steven.”

He stiffened. “Y-yeah?”

“If anything happens,” you told him slowly, “I want you to call me, okay?” He opened his mouth to respond, but you interrupted him for the first time in the two months he’d known you. “I mean it. I’m not going to push my way into your business, but if you ever feel like you need help, do not hesitate to tell me. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he suspired. Why was his mouth dry all of a sudden? When had he started sweating? Was his blush as obvious as it felt?

You regarded him for another moment, scrutinizing his expression—perhaps for any traces of falsehood—before nodding and releasing his hands. You reached into your pocket and drew out your phone. “What’s your number?”

Steven recited it to you nervously, fiddling with the hems of his sleeves. You typed it in, saved it, then sent him a message that buzzed in his back pocket. (He never thought that he’d get your number in a context quite like this .)

The lapse of silence continued, stifling in its weight, until your expression softened once more into something far less grave. “...Do you trust me, Steven?”

The answer came without hesitation. “Of course,” he breathed.

Your eyes were so damned deep, he’d drown in them willingly. “All right. Just know…whatever you need, okay? I’m just a phone call away.” You swallowed, then glanced away for the first time since he’d walked into you. “I don’t like seeing you scared. It scares me. ”

He was about to apologize on reflex, but the words died on his tongue. He noticed that you, too, had started to fidget with your fingers, rolling a wrinkle in your jeans. He reached out and laid his hand over yours, drawing your attention back to him. “Where’d you learn that trick? You know, the one about the five senses?”

“I had really bad anxiety when I was a teenager. Had an acute spell for about six months straight that made me hate sleeping because the thought of waking back up to deal with it all over again the next day kept me up all night. I lost a lot of weight because my stomach stayed upset and I didn’t have an appetite at all—it took a long time to go back to eating normal afterwards because my stomach had shrunk.” You looked so vulnerable, uncomfortable with baring yourself just a little bit more to his sympathetic gaze, but doing it anyway—all for his undeserving benefit. He squeezed your hand, this time. “I did a lot of research at the time to find ways to mitigate it. Figuring out the biological basis of it helped me to rationalize my triggers and responses so I could understand how to manage it better. It’s fight, flight, or freeze at its most dire state—so once I learned that, I was able to talk myself down by convincing myself I was safe.” You traced the roughness of his palm, and a flicker of something passed over your face before he could register it. “That trick isolates stimuli so you can focus.”

“That…that makes sense. I’ll have to remember that one.” He cleared his throat quietly. He hadn’t known—you hadn’t told him any of that before, never had indicated that you’d had such a rough time of your anxiety that you so often made light of in passing. “I’m so sorry you went through that. It sounds horrible.”

“It was. But it taught me to be more aware of how my mind and body work, if nothing else. And despite all the hardships, I never looked for a way out, just…a way through. And I did get through it.” You sat up a little straighter, cleared your throat, and glanced through the bookshelves before you returned your attention to him. “Are you sure you don’t need me to…?”

“I’m not going to ask you to play hookey for me,” he told you, smiling and using what was hopefully a playful tone. It seemed to work, because the tension in your shoulders eased a bit. “I will let you know if I need you.”

“Promise?” you prompted, extending the pinky of your free hand.

“Pinky promise,” he assured, linking his with yours and marveling at how petite you really were, dwarfed by the breadth of him. He’d never really noticed that, before, either. (How had he not?) “I’ll let you know what I find out, yeah? Once I get it all straight in my noggin’.”

You nodded as you both stood and started to weave your way through the labyrinth back to the main area of the bookstore. “I’m holding you to that, Steven Grant. If I don’t hear from you I’ll be putting out a search warrant.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” he fibbed—just a little, because he hated seeing you worry like this. He’d evidently never really given you good reason to worry about him before, and he felt immeasurably guilty despite the comfort you’d brought him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You flashed him a small smile, less enthusiastic than usual. “Now that you’re not working, we could actually eat together since my lunch break’s always later.”

Tentative, as though you didn’t want to send him over the edge again. He appreciated it more than you’d ever know.

“I’ll be here. Just give me about a fifteen minute heads-up so I can make it on time?”

“Will do.” As he approached the exit, you reached out and brushed your fingertips along the blade of his hand, arresting him on the spot. “Steven. Please be careful.” You glanced over at the other clerk with his back turned towards the pair of you, organizing the table you’d abandoned in favor of bringing Steven down from the brink. “I care a lot about you,” you confessed softly. “I don’t ever want to see you get hurt.”

Steven sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, folding his hands over his stomach on reflex. His body sagged and his heart puddled into the pit of his belly. “I care a lot about you, too, love. But you don’t have to worry about me gettin’ hurt—just think about the other guy! I’ll just give them the ol’ Grant one-two!” He shadow boxed to punctuate, and your quiet chuckle soothed his fluttering nerves. He stilled, then, and dropped his arms to his sides awkwardly. “...And thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t…you know. Likely would’ve gone right bonkers, yeah?”

“You’re always welcome, Steven.” You hesitated, fists tightening, before you reached out to grasp his arm lightly, only enough for balance, and Steven’s rattled mind struggled to keep up with your hurried motion and didn’t catch up until after the fact—you leaned into him, all sweet perfume and warm softness, to press a chaste kiss to the dried, tacky tear tracks that would surely leave salt on your lips. You were back down flat on your feet and a full pace away from him by the time his mouth dropped open, and your embarrassment was glaringly obvious. “Take care. For me?”

“Of course, love,” he said softly, watching perplexedly as you nodded, mouth thinning, before you darted around behind a bookcase and out of sight.

Oh. You were shy.

Steven pressed his fingertips to his tingling cheek all the way down the stairs, stumbling a couple of times before he convinced himself to get a grip before he did break his promise and accidentally kill himself not two minutes after the fact. He floated through the coffee shop back onto the street, sinking his back against the wall, and closed his eyes to reclaim his breath.

The first genuine smile of unfettered delight he’d had in what felt like eons wormed onto his face, and Steven let out a dreamy sigh. He shifted, caught a whiff of your perfume, and realized that some of it still lingered on his coat collar. He resisted the sudden urge to bury his nose and to revel in it, clearing his throat and fishing his phone out of his pocket instead to start off his investigation by determining which storage company Marc’s key belonged to.

Your text waited for him, poised under his thumb. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Steven. Laters, gators! :)’

His cheeks ached with the widest smile he’d had in his life.

When the plane from Cairo landed at its destination in London’s biggest airport close at nine-thirty, well past dark, approximately two weeks later, Steven finds that he has never felt so tired in his (admittedly limited waking) life—even during the time of depriving himself of sleep in an effort to control his supposed ‘sleeping’ disorder. He’d…dozed, he supposed was the only way he could describe it, while Marc had fronted during the flight. Leaving Layla in Cairo had been hard on him (both of them, really), so Marc had needed some quiet time to himself.

Steven couldn’t quite find it in himself to blame him in the slightest.

Marc and Layla had finally squared things away after Khonshu had finally released them—both Harrow and…their relationship. While Layla finally understood Marc’s motivations for all his blunders (and him personally, more clearly than she ever had in their married life, sad as it was to say), they both agreed that it would be for the best to go ahead and part ways. Too much damage had been done, the foundations of their relationship fractured by all the secrets and half-truths Marc had kept, and he had shattered her trust with his noncommunication.

She did make it explicitly clear that the entire ordeal in no way stopped her from caring about him (and now Steven, she made sure to add), however—Marc’s relief had been palpable, even while Steven had kept quiet and to himself listening to them discuss everything in the dingy motel room they’d shared the previous night before he’d departed. They mutually agreed to keep in touch, because while Marc had freed himself (and therefore Steven) of Khonshu’s servitude, Layla was still working with Tawaret as her Red Scarab. Hurt though he was (with mostly himself to blame, he’d admitted), Marc was protective more than anything—and though Tawaret had wormed her way past his initial suspicions with her sincere desire and success in helping them crawl their way out of the Duat, historically he didn’t exactly have a healthy relationship with Ancient Egyptian deities.

He hadn’t spoken much to Steven since then, but Steven was okay with that. Marc was a man of few words, he’d learned, and Steven suspected that it was best to give him space—regardless of when (or if) he ever decided to talk about it. Steven would be there for him either way (figuratively and literally). He’d need to make sure to remind him of that fact when they were both a bit better rested and recovered from the world-ending battle that they had managed to win by the skin of their teeth.

Steven hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing Layla very long—and while perhaps some of his initial attraction to her could have been attributed to him inheriting at least some of Marc’s own memories, feelings, and familiarity via sharing the body, Steven was grateful that they could remain friends, at least—it spoke lengths of how close she and Marc truly had been, for her to still be willing to stay in contact despite everything that had happened. She’d made sure to send them both off with a tight, rocking hug for each of them, pressing a tender kiss to either cheek as they had seamlessly traded places per her request without so much as a shudder.

“Take care of him, okay, Steven? And you stay safe, too,” she’d murmured into his ear, her mirth belied by her melancholy. She’d paused, then reached up to adjust the lapels of Marc’s jacket lying crooked across his clavicle. “I trust you to do what I couldn’t.”

“I’ll certainly try my best,” he’d returned with a timid smile as she’d drawn away with sparkling eyes not only from fondness. He’d tried to ignore the stinging in his as he’d cleared his throat of the quiver that had threatened to creep into the back of his throat. “He’s a bit of a git when it comes to lookin’ after himself, yeah? But I’m kind of stuck with him, so…good to try to make the best of it, you know.”

“Thank you.” She’d seemed earnest in her gratitude, then, easing back another half-step. “For helping us. I owe you more than I fear I could ever fully repay.”

“You don’t owe me a thing,” he’d returned easily. He liked Layla—perhaps, in another life, he could have loved her, too, if things had turned out different, or if Marc had given him the opportunity. Marc’s envious accusations at the dig sight hadn’t hit quite so close to home as to ever confirm such feelings in himself—she was still virtually a stranger, in spite of him fearing for her life and trusting her with his without hesitation—so while he ached to see things between her and Marc end like they had, all he could focus on was that he was thankful they’d had the opportunity to meet. “You take care of yourself, too, all right? Don’t get into too much trouble kickin’ tail and takin’ names.”

She’d let out a wet laugh at that, not-so-subtly swiping at her eyes. “I will, Steven,” she’d said, and then Marc had taken over.

Until now, anyway.

Steven understood completely why Marc needed some time to himself after all that—perhaps better than anyone. It was why he was extremely grateful that, once all the process of checking out and fetching luggage was done, Marc receded in silence to the back of their shared headspace and left Steven standing at the front entrance of the airport with a flagged cab waiting expectantly for him on the drive below.

He hefted Marc’s duffel a little higher on his shoulder, curling his hands around the strap, and descended the steps quickly. He settled into the back seat, wrinkling his nose a bit at the faint but pungent scents of sweat, alcohol, and puke lingering there.

“Where to, mate?” asked the cab driver, sounding as bored as Steven would admittedly be if he had to drive people dead on their feet home in such dreary weather as this—it had stopped raining, thankfully, but mist still hung in the air and puddles littered the ground, causing any nearby lights to glisten and glitter off the wet surfaces.

Steven hesitated.

He…hadn’t really thought this far ahead, admittedly. He realized with a start that he hadn’t been home since Harrow’s cop friends…lackies… whatever had snatched him under the guise of a real investigation and arrest. It was probably a mess after they had ransacked it. It would be a miracle if not-Gus was still alive. He’d be lucky if none of his nosy neighbors had broken in to pilfer his things.

Steven fiddled with the strap pensively, evidently taking too long for the cabbie’s thinning patience. “Hear me, mate? Where do you need to go?”

It was almost instinct, the way that the coffee shop’s address spilled from his lips with some embarrassment—embedded into his memory since he’d ordered rides there on his days off. The cabbie flicked on the meter and took off once he’d entered it into his phone, and Steven tried to suppress his flustered response at agitating the man because what harm had he caused by waiting a moment longer than what was considered punchy? Nothing. It wasn’t Steven’s fault that the man was irritable. (What cabbie worth his salt relied on Google Maps, anyway? But then again, what cabbie worth his salt couldn’t be bothered to order a deep enough clean after toting about what must have been the cataclysmic aftermath of one hell of a stag party?)

Seeing and doing everything he had in Egypt had given Steven a slightly different outlook both about people in general as well as himself. People were, mostly, harmless—unless they were trying to resurrect and put into power an entombed goddess of destruction, anyway—so what difference did it make that Steven existed in the same place and time as them? It didn’t give them the excuse to be rude or dismissive or critical. Plus…while they’d given up that fancy healing armor (and that rather snazzy suit, unfortunately), Steven could still defend himself if need be. He had access to Marc’s muscle memory now that no more barriers stood between their psyches—he’d held his own against Arthur bleedin’ Harrow quite well, if he did say so himself, thank you very much. He’d still have to get used to the motions, sure, but…never before had he felt more capable and assured in his own abilities. He had Marc to thank for that.

Even still, as he steadied his breathing and calmed his heart, Steven frowned and directed his gaze out of the window to focus on the streets rolling by outside. The coffee shop didn’t close until ten, and you usually didn’t make it out while locking up until ten-fifteen. But because Marc had left Steven’s phone in London (in his storage locker while getting supplies, Steven suspected), Steven had been unable to contact you at all. Given the domino's effects following him leaving the coffee shop in pursuit of Marc’s unit, he hadn’t had time enough to memorize your number (and believe him, under any other circumstances, he would have done so as soon as he would have had the chance). He’d promised you lunch the next day, as well as to check in to let you know he was all right, but by the time Steven had woken back up post-jackal boxing extravaganza, he’d had to deal with Marc’s…less than ideal interrogation techniques.

Things only had…devolved from there. Steven really and truly didn’t care to give any of it much more thought—not until later, when he could see clearly without his eyelids drifting shut.

Steven wrung the hem of the jacket’s sleeves between his fingers, worrying the inside of his cheek while he did so. Even throughout…all of that…Steven had found his thoughts straying inevitably—gravitized, perhaps—back to you, over and over, no matter how hard he’d tried to concentrate on…well, you know, saving the world. Even when he’d been distracted, and terrified, and fighting for his life, he’d recalled snippets of memory so visceral he’d glanced over his shoulder more than once to make sure he was just imagining things.

Your features drenched in sunlight like a goddess in your own right. Your eyes glittering as you tittered in genuine mirth at once his silly little jokes he cringed over every time he departed from your reassuring company. Your smile warming him inside as much as your meticulously brewed teas did going down. Your lilted, soothing drawl, the shape your mouth formed as you’d snowball into a lecture on how ridiculous all the internet conspiracies about aliens building the pyramids because the Egyptians were too primitive to accomplish such feats but the Romans were esteemed geniuses of their time with all their architectural novelties, the unfettered passion that brought such vivacity to your normally demure, soft-spoken demeanor.

He had missed you. Terribly so. More than he would’ve expected, but he was unsurprised.

You’d no doubt have loved to have seen Egypt with your own eyes—you’d confessed your daydreams about it to Steven on a couple of different occasions, had told him how long you’d wanted to take a vacation there to visit all the sights and witness them for yourself. You’d shared, mortified and only after some gentle prodding on his part, that you’d even constructed an itinerary, once, complete with hypothetical flight times, prices, and locations, hotel reservations and rates, eateries recommended by locals, starting from the delta and traversing all the way up to Abu Simbel, as well as every notable tomb, temple, and archaeological site or tourist spot in between. “Maybe one day,” you’d said, so wistfully yet despondently that he’d wanted for nothing more in that moment than to sweep you up and take you there himself.

At the time, he had pictured your reactions to Cairo, Giza, and Alexander the Great’s no-longer-lost tomb with perfect clarity—your excitement would have known no bounds. You would have stopped to inspect and decipher each artifact and inscription if you’d had time enough to do so, ecstatic at the chance to lay your hands on such marvels (respectfully, of that Steven had no doubts). Steven would never have wanted you involved in such close and constant proximity to danger, but he’d still imagined it for his own sanity. You’d been his lifeline, in a way—even with his fleeting, misplaced infatuation with Layla—the thought of not making it back to London, back to you, was what had kept him going at the most harrowing of points.

As partial as you were to the mythology, you’d have been beside yourself to discover that the deities so long thought fabled—for better or for worse—were as real as anything else in this odd little home humanity called Earth. He’d sooner throw himself back into the ravenous sands of the Duat than have you anywhere near that bloodthirsty pigeon, but then again Tawaret had been an angel by comparison, so…maybe you interacting with her wouldn’t have been too bad.

You were his first recurring thought whenever he’d wake (whether he had emerged to the front or from slumber), and you’d been his last thought when Harrow had shot Marc—panicked, screaming, terrified knowing he’d failed to keep his word. When Khonshu had forced the breath back into their lungs, Steven had nevermore felt such relief at proving himself wrong.

He’d convinced Marc to loan him a little spending money, after all was said and done, and had visited a secluded marketplace to browse the vendors’ wares. He’d found a little statuette of Djehuty hand-carved from lapis lazuli, about as long and as wide as his index finger, and while the merchant’s asking price had been outrageous (and because Steven had no talent for haggling, try as he might), Marc hadn’t scolded him too badly for shelling out the questionable stack of bills. It wouldn’t go far in the way of a peace offering, perhaps, but he could use it as some sort of proof if things didn’t go over well.

You weren’t naturally a skeptical person, though, he reminded himself. You had taken him at his word during his mental breakdown without even batting an eye. You valued honesty and communication above all else, prided yourself on your integrity, and Steven knew that you would at least hear him out and consider his (rather implausible) story before you rejected it.

Maybe he could still salvage this. Maybe he wouldn’t have to give Marc one more reason to blame himself for something he’d claim that he ruined. You were a reasonable woman, driven by logic and intuition rather than emotion and feelings. Steven had always admired you for that, for your tendency to avoid taking sides, to play devil’s advocate, to balance and weigh all options, thoughts, facts, and opinions before daring to formulate your own.

A keen little set of scales you were, weren’t you? Yeah. If only you’d have been there, somehow, to help sort out his and Marc’s mess—it likely would have gone a lot smoother and faster. (Maybe they would have actually managed to balance before it had almost been too late.)

“Most everything down this way is closed for the night—you sure you want me to let you off here? Or would you rather me take you someplace else?” groused the cabbie as he eased to a stop on the street corner (because of course—why would any cabbie worth his salt take a man to his requested destination only to offer a longer drive if but to rack up a higher meter?)

Despite Steven’s increasing indignation (he was firmly placing the blame on his and Marc’s shared jet lag because he was just so tired and he would never normally get so irate by a man doing his job, no matter how lazily), he hesitated. Only the security lights were visible through the sheer blinds drawn over the windows to conceal the interior, and he couldn’t make out your shape at the till or anywhere else, for that matter.

Perhaps it had been wishful thinking to hope you’d still be there, or even on the shift for tonight at all. You’d probably worried yourself to death fretting about his sudden silence—no, scratch that, you definitely had fretted. Was he going to have to call the nearest police station to have them take down a missing persons report? Had you even filed one like you’d threatened to? Or had he inadvertently hurt you by what could in any other conceivable circumstance be taken as ghosting to the point that you no longer cared for his well-being?

The thought made his heart clench. It ached more than he might have been readily willing to admit. Oh, he had gone and messed things up royally, hadn’t he? The one person who’d actually treated him like a person (outside of Marc and Layla, of course) could very well hate his guts now. It sickened him, almost made him want to lock himself away in his flat and curl up under his duvet and hide for the rest of eternity.

But he couldn’t. Not on the off-chance you had recalled his concerns, had believed his worries, and still thought him innocent in the matter. Not if you were still waiting for him.

“What’ll it be, mate?” drolled the cabbie, muffled by a gargantuan yawn he didn’t bother to stifle. “I’d rather not sit here all night, you know.”

“N-no—I’ll stop here, thanks.” Steven patted through Marc’s pockets until he found his wallet, then rifled through the neatly organized mixture of bills until he found English currency as opposed to Egyptian—with enough for a decent tip, because Steven always tried not to be a knob. “You seem like you’re workin’ on fumes, mate, you ought to go home and get some sleep.”

“Sleeping’s for the dead,” he deadpanned, and Steven let out a breathless little chuckle as he shuffled out of the cab onto the curb and watched it round the corner and out of sight.

If only he knew.

The air was warmer than before Steven had been carted off to another continent, a bit muggy as the humidity settled like cobwebs in his lungs. He grimaced and unzipped the jacket, edging closer to the windows to squint inside properly.

Still no signs of life. Steven rested his fingertips on the dribbled glass, dropping his head. Marc still had the storage key in the bag, somewhere—he supposed that he could try going and getting his phone, but that would run the risk of the business not being open at all hours and require that much more time to charge the blasted thing back from the brink. Perhaps he’d be better off to wait until the next morning to try to sort his life back out—he wouldn’t be able to stand staying on his feet for much longer.

“ ...Steven? ”

He stiffened, straightened in an instant, and turned to see you standing at the corner, keys still dangling from your fingers after locking up and coming around the back. An impulsive glance at Marc’s watch told him that you’d finished up early—it was ten on the dot. Your expression, bleached by the cold ivory streetlamp looming over your head, was slack in disbelief.

Steven—despite having rehearsed over the last two weeks what he could possibly say to explain himself, to apologize for his abrupt absence and radio silence, to entreat you to at least hear him plead his case, to beg for your forgiveness and to seek it by any means necessary just so he could talk to you again—fell terribly short of his expectations as the moment came…and went.

His greatest shortcoming, that: his seemingly endless supply of words failing him when he needed them most dire.

“...Hiya,” he said meekly, raising his hand in a shameful little wave—then groaned internally and resisted the overwhelming urge to bury his face in his hands and pull at his hair in frustration.

Real chuffed she’ll be with a response like that, ol’ chap. Bollocks. I’m an utter pillock, aren’t I?

“S-sorry,” he floundered, face burning as you continued to stare at him with rounded eyes and a gaping mouth. You looked caught between fight or flight but trapped in freeze mode, every muscle in your body rigid as though the sight of him reviled you. His heart twisted, but he couldn’t find it in himself to blame you. He’d be right pissed at himself, too. “It’s…been a bit much, the time I’ve had. I’m proper exhausted after that trip. Not that, uh…not that it’s any excuse, yeah? I’m just having a bit of a hard time not fallin’ asleep on my fee— oof! ”

You’d moved before he could even track the motion. Had he looked away or dropped his head and closed his eyes out of humiliation? Had he almost blacked out again even though Marc made no sign of himself known? Or was he just that tired and you were that fast on your feet? (Of course you were nimble, juggling books and drinks all day long at a breakneck pace. Why would he ever have thought otherwise?)

He supposed it didn’t matter in the end, really, because your arms were coiled around his neck to drag him down closer to your height, your face was buried into his (no doubt grimy) neck, and your hands were trembling as they gripped his nape and threaded into his matted, oily curls as though your life depended upon it. Your breaths were muffled and warm against his throat, as were the tears that smeared against his thundering pulse, and it took Steven an embarrassingly long time to come to his senses and return your vice-like embrace with his own shaking arms.

“You scared the shit out of me, Steven,” you sniffled into his collar like a secret, voice tight and hushed with the ferocity of your feeling. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Steven swallowed roughly, throat tightening and eyes filming over with the familiar hot sting he’d been doing his damnedest to hold down until he’d returned to the safety of his home—but he supposed that he already had, so what was the point in resisting anymore?

“I thought I’d lost me, too, love,” he whispered raggedly, his tenuous resolve crumbling like sandstone as he buried his face in your hair and crushed you against his chest as tightly as your clothes allowed. His tears finally slipped free of his eyes as he squeezed them closed in an effort to shut out the world around him. He could feel your heart hammering against his chest even through all his layers, your earthy perfume saturating his lungs, your inherent warmth seeping into him so like the sunshine you epitomized in his mind. You didn’t give any inclination of letting him go anytime soon, and he had no such intention, either. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmured, voice cracking with the strain of keeping yourself in check, pulling your head back just enough to peer up at him with a warbling smile. The hand on his neck slipped around to cup his cheek in your palm, thumbing away the wet streaks trailing towards his chin. Your eyes darted over his features, scrutinizing, as though you were committing the sight to memory—as though assuring yourself that he was really real, really there, really corporeal and not an apparition. “God, darlin’, don’t be sorry, I’m just—I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you safe? Are you hurt? Are you still in danger?” You mirrored your own touch with your free hand, cradling his head as though you held the entire world between your fingers, stroking the corners of his mouth in reverent reassurance. “Where have you been? I tried looking, asking around the museum, but nobody knew where you’d disappeared, and I—I thought—” You let out a sob from between gritted teeth, quivering despite his desperate grip on your upper and lower back. “—I feared the worst, after what you said the last time I saw you, and I tried talking to the police, but they thought I was crazy, and…I’ve nearly worried myself to death wondering where you’d gone.”

Nailed it. Unfortunately. Steven let out a watery laugh, biting his lip briefly before tugging you back under his chin so you wouldn’t see the conflicted emotions fighting for prominence on the limited canvas space of his face. “Oh, love, I’ve been to hell and back,” he joked quietly (one you wouldn’t get, not yet, and one he didn’t particularly care to explain), rocking you from side to side and anchoring himself with the weight of your body against his. “But I never stopped thinking about—about coming back. To you. Not once.”

Your arms slipped under his to squeeze him tight, slowly but surely soaking his shirt with your relief. Steven was uncertain how long the pair of you stood like that, getting progressively more damp from the mist and more chilled from the cooling breeze, and finally he withdrew enough to tenderly pat your cheeks dry with the hem of his sleeve. You laughed a little at that, a frail but joyous little sound, and Steven could hardly contain himself—but you beat him to it.

“You look exhausted, darlin’,” you said softly, face pinching a little as you took in his drawn features. He was sure Marc had sat up through the whole flight, as antsy as he was—the body hadn’t gotten sufficient enough rest in so long Steven was surprised neither of them had yet to collapse. The deep purple semicircles marring the heavy undersides of his eyes were sure to be sights to behold. You traced his brow, temple, and cheekbone with a featherlight touch of your fingertips. “You said you just got back?”

“Yeah,” he responded, eyes fluttering shut at your gentleness with a long sigh. “I wanted…I needed to see you. To let you know I made it back, and that I didn’t mean to shut you out, and…to tell you what happened.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” you pressed carefully. “You’ve obviously been stressed about it. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable talking about.”

“I want you to know. It’s…it’s important. To me.” He cracked his eye back open, taking in the minutiae of your features, too—you seemed just as bad off as he was. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

You gave him a sharp look, and your last reaction to a similar statement he’d made rang clear in the back of his mind without you even having to echo your response.

“You just seem tired, too, is all,” he said. “Didn’t want to keep you up any later.”

“I’ll stay up all night if you asked me to,” you told him firmly. “Whatever you need. I meant what I said.”

‘I’m here for you.’

“I…could I ask one teensy favor?” he started, hating how small his voice sounded. “Just this once?”

You quirked an inquisitive brow.

“I…don’t really want to sleep by myself tonight,” he admitted sheepishly. “My place got broken into and…I’m not sure what it’ll look like when I go back there. I…I don’t want to be alone. Could I…?”

“Of course,” you said immediately, already reaching down and grasping his wrist. “You look like you could use a good meal, too—I’ve got some leftover minestrone that I could heat up for you. It doesn’t have any animal products in it.”

Oh, he could kiss you.

“I don’t mean to impose,” he prefaced, “but…that honestly sounds heavenly.”

“You’re not imposing. Come on. The bus will be making its stop soon—don’t want to miss it in case the rain starts up again.”

Steven allowed you to lead him along the street, perfectly content to allow you to guide him. The longer he went, the more difficult it was to stay focused. The late bus, one he’d usually been forced to catch when Donna had thrust him into inventory duty, was virtually empty save a couple of other night workers having finished up their shifts. You settled Steven near the back, setting him against the window and perching yourself in the aisle seat with a watchful eye directed towards the other passengers.

Steven found himself nodding off, forehead pressed heavily into the window, when your fingers tugged his wrist lightly. “Hey. Here, lean on me—I don’t want you to get a crick in your neck.”

Hardly conscious of it, Steven allowed you to direct with a cupped hand his temple to rest on your shoulder, sinking listlessly into your side. The press of your warm palm on his cheek remained as you murmured something he didn’t quite catch, too drowsy to recall anything afterwards besides the sweet scent of chai on your breath.

You roused him at the correct stop, and he managed to keep his wits about himself long enough to take in the new, unfamiliar surroundings. The university campus loomed on the other side of the highway, impressive in its splendor, and your flat was located in a nice but affordable gated complex that he suspected you’d chosen for convenience and security rather than luxury. Multiple other residences lined this side of the road, likely housing the majority of students.

“I’m on the top floor, but luckily they have elevators,” you murmured to him as you used your key card to buzz through the gate and unlock the side door to the main corridor. You led him through the place, let him lean against you while the mechanisms’ hum lulled him, and the first thing you did upon letting him into your apartment was have him sit on the loveseat. “Give me your feet.”

“Oh, don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he protested, even as you kneeled on the carpet and pulled one dusty boot up onto your knee to untie the laces. “Please, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking, I’m doing,” you responded mildly. “Steven, you’re a blink too long away from going comatose—just let me take care of you, okay?” Your lips thinned for a moment, conflicted, before you dropped your gaze to your fingerwork before tugging the heavy shoe free and setting it to the side and reaching for his other foot. “I missed you. Let me do this, please.”

He had precious little will to argue, lesser so to refuse any sort of doting you might decide to bestow upon him. Steven Grant was many things, and a weak man was one of them. “I…all right,” he said softly.

“Good boy.” You patted the side of his leg with a wry little smirk that did funny things to his blood pressure, removing the other shoe, and leaving it with its twin. You stood, knees cracking, and made a placating gesture. “Wait here, I’ll be back in five.”

“All right,” he repeated sleepily because he couldn’t help it—his eyes were already falling shut again. He became dimly aware of an added weight draped over him, but it wasn’t until you came back and sank into the cushion next to him that he jerked back awake and realized you’d pulled the heavy knit blanket off the back of the couch over him.

“Here,” you said, pressing a large mug into his hands. “I know microwaved leftovers aren't as good, but I’ll be lucky to get you to down anything before you pass out on me. Again.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, drawing up a spoonful and blowing the steam off it. It smelled divine, and his stomach pinched and growled as though it, too, had wrenched itself awake.

“Stop apologizing,” you said, eyes twinkling. “It’s kind of cute.”

“Only kind of?” he tried, slipping the spoon into his mouth. A salty medley of flavors bloomed over his tongue and Steven was convinced he’d been sent to Aaru after all. “Oh…you never told me you were a king’s cook,” he mumbled.

“I am a bit proud of my cooking,” you chuckled. “I had…tweaked that recipe, to see if you’d like it, actually. I just so happened to have made it last night.” You glanced off to the side, briefly, towards the floor-to-ceiling window that lined the far wall and displayed the heart of London in all its twinkling glory. “Good timing, I guess.”

Steven ate as much as his waning patience could stand before propping the mug between his knees and tentatively resting a hand on yours draped over your thigh. You looked back to him immediately, the only light in the room spilling off to the side from the kitchen and casting all but the curve of your face in shadow. “There’s too much to explain in one night,” he began with a sigh, “and, honestly, it’ll probably take me a bit to work up to some of the…worse stuff. But I did want to tell you what I figured out about my sleeping disorder.”

“All right.” You shifted and contorted to face him completely, folding your legs crossed under you and lacing your fingers with his. “Did you get an official diagnosis, or…?”

He tried to ignore that in favor of staying undistracted. (It didn’t work very well, and he squeezed your hand back.) “Well. Sort of.” He recalled the certainty with which had (sparingly) detailed their ‘insanity’, the clarity with which the Duat had conformed to Marc’s self-perception as an institutionalized patient in an asylum. “It’s not a sleeping disorder.”

“Okay,” you responded encouragingly, expression neutral.

“I have…well. We have…” He sighed, ducked his head, and scratched at his hairline. “...Have you ever heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?”

“I took a psychology class back home, yeah.” You frowned slightly. “What, like…Multiple Personality Disorder?”

“Yes.” Steven’s eyes were drawn to your hand, and he turned it over to inspect the lines of your palm with his blunt, callused fingertips (no longer a mystery why they stayed in such rough shape, he mused). “I’m, uh…well…it’s harder to…to say out loud, I guess.” He faltered, then, eyes flashing up to beseech your understanding. “I want you to know that we’ve worked things out as much as we could, so it’s a lot better than it was, but we’ve still got a ways to go, I think. Just—just know that we’re sound of mind, and neither of us would ever, ever hurt you.”

“Steven,” you said gently, realization slowly dawning in your softening gaze, “I never once had doubts about that.”

“I…good. That’s good.” He swallowed. He’d seen the stereotypes in popular media just like everyone else ever had, and while Marc had indeed hurt people, his remorse told Steven just how little he’d enjoyed it (that being none). “Okay. So…there’s this little American man that…lives inside my head, I guess. Marc Spector. Bit of a twit when you first meet him, but he’s not a half-bad bloke once you get to know him.”

Steven paused, waiting for a biting remark from the nearest reflective surface—but your offlined television remained passive. He let out a breath of relief.

Your expectant, patient silence spurred him on. “That’s what I thought, anyway—that he lived inside my head, that is. Just started poppin’ up out of nowhere, tryin’ to scare me off of figurin’ everythin’ out. Didn’t realize ‘til later that he was just tryin’ to protect me and being a real sorry arse about it.” Steven pressed the flat of his thumb into the crease of your palm, feeling your steady, calmed pulse thudding against his skin. “Turns out…I’m the one living inside his head.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t interrupt him.

“He had a rough childhood,” Steven continued, voice carrying over into a rush, “lost his li’l brother. His mum blamed him for it…did some things she shouldn’t have. Marc…developed an alter based on a fictional character from his favorite movie.” He let out a shaky sigh, dropping his chin to his sternum. “Doctor Steven Grant, debonair, world-traveled archaeologist extraordinaire.” He cleared his throat, voice lowering. “I think I may have fallen a bit short of his expectations.”

He had only learned the terminology in the snippets of time Marc let him front while he and Layla were still organizing things in Cairo, looking up articles to learn more about their shared mindscape.

“I…remember our childhood,” he said, much more quietly, “but not any of the bad parts. He let me keep all the good memories. I never remembered Mum except on the good days. Learning all this…was really hard. I never thought…I knew I had gaps in my memory, but I didn’t think…I never figured it out until the wall between us got broken down.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “When…when Mum died. I didn’t know. Marc couldn’t control it anymore, and…things happened. He moved to London, got me all set up with the flat and the job at the museum, and he was finishing things up so he could…I don’t know, fall to the wayside and not come out anymore? I’m not really sure how that works…if it would even work, like that.”

He didn’t dare look up at your expression. You’d fallen completely still and eerily quiet.

“So…yeah.” He was whispering by now. “I guess that makes me the fake identity.”

“Steven Grant,” you interjected, voice low and calm, “there is nothing about you that’s fake. I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again.”

He gulped, peeking up at your resolute expression. “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked.

“You’re the most vibrant, thoughtful, selfless person I’ve ever met,” you said, gripping his hand so tightly he felt your pulse in each of your fingertips—he wouldn’t be surprised if your prints melded with his. “You have filled my life with more joy than I’ve felt in years. I give thanks almost every day that I had the privilege to have met you at a time when I needed you most.” You leaned in closer, eyes sparkling like the stars faintly visible on the horizon beyond your balcony. “For whatever reason that Marc Spector may have created you, he did a damn good job of it. You embody every positive trait anyone could ever hope to have. You are undoubtedly one of the best men I’ve proudly called my friend. And whatever you went through, with him or without, I have no doubt in my mind that you are integral to him, a part of him he idealizes. Even if you’re an alter, not the original owner of this body,” with this, you tapped his shoulder with your free hand, “you are just as important and just as precious to me for it.”

Steven thought he had cried enough, but his eyes betrayed him yet again. Only a couple of tears slipped free before you were smearing them away, steadfast in your presence, knees pressed into the outside of his thigh. He sank into your touch, shutting his eyes in relief.

“You can tell me as much or as little about the rest of it as you want,” you murmured. “And I apologize in advance for anything that I may accidentally say or do out of ignorance—but I promise you, Steven Grant, I will stay by your side as long as you’ll have me. No matter what.”

“Even though I’ve turned out a little crazier than you may have expected?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with such a feeble attempt at a joke—but the words came out a little bleaker than he had intended.

“You’re not crazy,” you stated, “you’re a survivor. Both of you. And I am so very grateful that you survived.”

Steven did not remember falling asleep after that. He did not remember you taking the mug back to the kitchen and turning the lights out. He did not remember you leveraging him longwise across your loveseat, a couple feet two short for him had he not already been curled up, piling multiple blankets over his lanky form and carefully slipping a pillow from your bed under his head. He did not remember you tenderly combing his unkempt curls off his forehead, gazing at him with love brimming in your eyes, and laying a lingering kiss between his brows.

He did, however, remember in perfect detail the sight of you slumped over in your recliner, facing him, wreathed in the most beautiful golden sunrise he’d ever seen in his life.

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant #reader insert #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction

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kitnootkat · 6 months ago

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See you later sk8er !

Episode 2. ; Dinner with the Neighbors ... Previous || Show List || Next

Checking your phone, you notice that it’s already been about ten minutes since you’ve been in the bathroom. If you stay any longer your parents are bound to get suspicious which means that you’ll probably get a lecture. Something you want to severely avoid.

If you were being honest with yourself you really did expect dinner not to go too well, but the thought applied to your whole family; not only to you. Conversations were seemingly lively except for the one with the boy sitting across from you which was very, very dead. You had both tried to start conversations but honestly nothing really stuck. You’re sure that if your parents weren’t there it would have gone better but that doesn’t change the fact that it wasn’t working out.

Yet right as you think that dinner couldn’t get any worse the topic of comparison had landed right into both mom’s palms. This made things even more awkward for you and the older kid Suna, who you know as Rintarou now, who were already struggling to talk. How do you even talk to someone easier if your moms are asking you to tutor him and your mom is asking him to teach you to let loose. One answer: you can't.

It ended up getting way too awkward for you to handle to the point where running away was your best bet. That means the bathroom was the perfect place to go. Which is where you are now.

Letting out a fairly deep sigh, you stare at yourself in the mirror before smacking your cheeks. Get your head into focus YN. It’s time to face the world.

OH SHIT. Eyes widening and trying to hold back a deep breath, you feel your soul jump out of your body. Why was Suna Rintarou leaning on the wall outside of the bathroom door and why did he seem just as spooked at you. “I- Ahem. Why are you standing outside the bathroom?” Your arms are crossed at this point and you have an eyebrow raised, eyes looking him up and down. But maybe that was a bad idea because now you could finally take in him, and the situation, but mainly him. And his- stop.

“Well, whenever we have people over I usually show them to the bathroom and then wait for them so I can lead them back to the dining room but…” The black haired boy takes a pause and takes a good look at you before putting on an annoying smirk “someone decided to take ten minutes in the bathroom.” Ooh! The nerve of this boy. Huffing, you give back a very passive aggressive smile. What the hell was his problem? Were all damn middle blockers like this?! Right as you’re about to reply though he pushes himself off the wall and starts walking back to the living room. “Oh, ln-san, by the way your mom was right, you are smart. Maybe next time don’t wait in the bathroom for so long though.” Ahaha. Actually die Suna Rintarou. You wanted to shove that stupid look off his face. Thank god you wouldn't have to fraternize with him too much though. Right...? Maybe not.

As you walk our of the door of the Suna household, your phone feels heavy as his contact was already in your phone.

Notes !! : -> Episode two is done!! Woohoo!! -> I really couldn't decide whether to end the chapter after the writing portion but i feel like what i added worked fine -> Bro i hate writing the word smirked but knowing Suna bro does that shit often -> There there yn, i would get pissed off from Suna too -> Suna was actually waiting outside of the bathroom for 10 minutes scrolling on like idk tiktok -> His mom asked him why he waited for her since that wasn't something he normally did and his reply was a shrug and a "just felt like it" -> yn did not avoid the lecture and got one on politeness when they got home except her dad said "you shouldn't be shitting in other peoples bathrooms." she could not leave her room after that -> Theres two Nekoma closets and one of them is abandoned bc it was "haunted" and i really wanted to include that in this chapter and who better to get stuck in a closet that bokuto and kuroo -> Also im thinking about adding kuroo and kenma bc there isnt enough people here

taglist : open ! ft.ft. @lcvemiyuki @cannibalsrider @skazewrld @thvvluvr @snail-squasher @mfcherry @sereniteav @cocoforkuroopuffs @causenessus @yuminako @starsagainsthearts

#haikyuu #haikyuu smau #lumi's garden essays #smau #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu suna #suna rintarou #hq suna #haikyuu x reader #see you later sk8er - smau #hq x reader #inarizaki #atsumu miya #miya osamu

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shinischis · 3 months ago

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so i read your fic and i really really like your bc of kaito smelling like vanilla and how shinichi finds comfort in that scent, it’s cute how he gets all sleepy all around kid, not because he’s bored but just because he’s tired and there’s finally some sort of comfort it’s actually so sweet, i love how you wrote their dynamic.

are there any other things you headcanon about these two sillies? i wanna know some other peoples opinions on them

HELLO HELLO

tysm for reading my fic, I'm glad you liked it, I was worried about it not being up to people's expectations bc it was my first ever kaishin or dcmk fic in general.

You did get the point I wanted to let out through the fic perfectly. Shinichi gets sleepy around kaito because he feels comfort around him for a reason he doesn't really know, and because kaito smells like vanilla, he associates said comfort to that scent, and that's why he gets a candle at the end of it hehe

I do have some more headcanons about these two, I think about them a lot and I kind of had a whole ass list in my head,

Okay a little list here of my kaishin headcanons just bc i said so

- shinichi likes a lot of things about kaito, they're very specific and very little but he wants to always be around for those specific things.

Those include Kaito's morning voice, the way he smells like vanilla (because of his shampoo or shower gel or whatever), his hands for whatever reason (he thinks they're interesting to watch them at work, especially if picking locks), and the way kaito can always make shinichi laugh when he's trying to act serious (he would never admit it though)

- kaito also likes a buncha things about shinichi, he thinks they're stupid and would never admit them to shinichi.

Those include the way shinichi smells like coffee (but he's dramatic and acts like he hates it), the way he rants about his interests and keeps going on and on for god knows how long (but kaito will sit and listen to every damn word like the idiot in love he is), shinichis focused face when he's trying to figure out something (his furrowed eyebrows and hand on his chin and all), and also.... his "football thighs"

- they're both hopless for one another in different ways .

Shinichi is more of quiet, just yearning from afar, his ass would never make a first move

Kaito is more out going about it, he flirts and kisses and has no sense of personal space and acts like they're already together before they even get together

- autism 🤝 adhd couple fr

Shinichi has autism, I'm 101% convinced and no one can tell me otherwise. I'm self projecting. And his special interest is sherlock holmes because his ass knows too much and won't stop .

Kaito is adhd, he diesnt have it, he IS it. That's just how it works.

- they're too gay, I need his about that as well

I was thinking bi shinichi, starts as fem leaning when he first figures it out but over time finds out he's more men leaning.

Then there's pan kaito, he gen likes anyone, he doesn't give two shits about gender anymore

- top kaito, bottom shinichi, pls and thank you

- I think in uni they'd have total different paths.

Shinichi going for police dep obvi just bc he has to be his detective self as always, kaito is no way near, he hates cops and will act allergic to his own boyfriend of he ever sees Shinichi wearing a cop outfit or something like that, would probably hiss at him like a cat hisses at water until he changes his clothes

Kaito would do gemology in uni, he knows a lot about gems, he's seen a lot of gems, he's stolen a lot of gems, so why not do things related to it for a living. He's probably opening a little jewelry shop after that, maybe after all the kaitou kid stuff is over a d he just wants to settle calmly

That's all I got for now, somehow I forgot everything else I had in mind the moment I was asked ahahaha

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anemonelovesfiction · 1 year ago

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Fated Mates 2

Ao’nung x fem! Human reader

Warnings ⚠️: Sex, p in v, fingering (bc Ao’s fingers make me drool), obviously these characters are aged tf up

Y’all I included a little tradition within a marriage ceremony (not Ao & Y/n) please someone tell me if its cute bc I thought it was but now idk, I need like hella reassurance for my skxawng ass.

As always, English text is stricken through, except a blurb where I wrote a note bc there is too much English and I refused to strike through a large some of text

I did make a tag list, but personally I don’t think it’s my forte so I don’t believe I’ll be doing it again, I hope y’all can understand🥺

Tag List 🏷️ @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @universal-s1ut @lili-flower03 @deadpool15

Translation Station

Ma’Sempul: My father

Ma’itan: My son

Tawtute: Sky Person (used as “human”)

Tsahik: Spirtual healer

Tsakarem: Tsahik in training

Kinä: Seven (7)

Tìyawn: Love (or “My Love”)

Oel ngati kameie: I see you

Tewng: Loincloth

Yawne: Beloved

Skxawng: Moron

Tsmuke: Sister

Tsmukan: Brother

Sa’nok: Mother

Word count: 7.9K not as long as the other one but still

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~*~*~*~*~*~*

“How is she?”

“I’m sorry?” I asked confusion evident in my voice and face as he asks me that question, I turn to face my father as he fails at hiding the amused glint in his eye.

“The girl you have spent your nights with for the past month.” He states as a smile breaks out onto his features and I’m a blushing mess. There was no way for me to hide it since my face had already given it away but I tried to move this along smoothly.

“It’s enough that mom knows, now you. Must you ask such private questions?” I groaned internally, the only reason he could be commenting on it had to be because my mother was growing impatient at finding any new information about it.

“Must you always hide everything from us?” He asks

“Ma’Sempul- we’re hunting, is now the time to ask such questions.” I asked.

“I worry about you ma‘itan.” He places a hand on my shoulder before one of the men hiding a ways from us signals at us.

“Thats the signal, lets go,” I broke the conversation short as I dove, my father following behind me.

We’d gotten up extremely early for this hunt to be successful. Quite a few people had gotten married during the last couple weeks and we had the last of the group marrying today. Every day we gathered together, the male of the couple included, to hunt for the feast at our communal dinner, it was the last test that not only could he provide for his mate, but when extreme circumstances arose, he too could prove useful to the clan.

The male of the soon-to-be mated pair had to plan the hunt the day of their union. Plan out where we were to swim, what we were to hunt, and instruct us on skinning the creature and instruct us how to cook it. We prided ourselves in being the providers for our clan and taking care of our mate, the women stayed behind and prepared our work stations once we got back.

It was a beautiful thing to witness a union of two souls, the night was an entire celebration dedicated to them, their friends and family showing their support toward them. I couldn’t wait for Tsireya’s, I’m sure they would make the decision here soon but I wouldn’t know when.

Capturing the beast wasn’t easy, the human boy was assisting as well and proved useful to us. He was great at holding his breath underwater, not as strong as we were, but could definitely hold his own. He, Lo’ak, and Rotxo worked very well together and it prided me knowing that these were the great men who were a part of Y/n’s life.

_________

“Could we talk about something?” Tsireya asks and her face was filled with worry, maybe happiness, confusion? I was usually good at reading her but today I was off.

“That depends, if it’s about Lo’ak, I’d really prefer to not hear it.” Kiri states as she gathers the same sized seashells into a basket. These were going to be used as decoration for tonights union.

“Kiri, stop being rude.” I tease and playfully roll my eyes before turning to the beautiful teal goddess before me

“Is something bothering you?” I asked her as I continued weaving this humongous garment with Tsireya on the other side of it.

They had a tradition where the two stomp on the middle shell, which happened to be the larger one, and however many pieces it broke into represented the two of them as well as the children they were to have. They would then tie their favorite piece of the shell in their song cord, their children's song cord would start with a piece of the broken shell representing both parents becoming one. This garment was going to be thrown around the two who were finalizing their union today as a means to show the clan that they were coming together after they pick their favorite piece and the rest placed in a small container they would take home.

“It’s about Ao’nung,” She bites her lip and apologetically looks at me.

“There must be something interesting for you to want to talk about your brother,” Kiri mentions and I have to force an angry/disgusted look on my face to keep up with the appearance.

“If I could mentally ascend to Eywa right now, I would.” I commented and she smiles while shaking her head to herself.

“Well, he’s been seeing someone recently.” She admits and I fight the urge to freeze, seem curious, or appear affected by her words.

“The sooner he’s out of our hair the better.” I go back to focusing on the weaving and Kiri laughs at that.

“Isn’t that a good thing, ‘Reya?” Kiri asks her and Tsireya looks kind of bothered.

“Oh, sweets, I’m sorry. Don’t take my comments to heart, but it looks like its bothering you, is this a bad thing?” I asked as the small frown had already edged itself into my heart. She shakes her head at my question.

“No, it’s just-“ She sighs and stops weaving, considering this was a two-person job I too had to stop weaving. She lets out a big sigh but still seems saddened.

“You can tell us, we’ll stop being assholes about it.” Kiri speaks up.

“He’s just different is all.” She states and looks like she’s embarrassed for what she said and just about speaks again- more than likely to change the subject.

“Different how?” I ask and she closes her mouth and looks up at me, her eyes very thankful that I’d asked.

“He just seems more patient and kind. His temper isn’t as harsh as it used to be and he is even kinder to the children because of it. I can only assume it has to do with this person he meets up with.”

“But it bothers you?” I asked again and she shakes her head.

“No! This change is good, it is something he needs. But he has yet to share with me and this big secret has been going on for a month. We share everything together and not being let in on this secret makes me feel like he does not trust me.”

“Don’t say that, I’m sure he is just very nervous about it, or maybe this person is very shy? Don’t take it personal, ‘Reya, when he comes home tonight why don’t you ask him about it, if he doesn’t want to share let him know you’re there for him and he will share when he’s ready.” Kiri offers and I look back and smile at her words of wisdom. She always knew what to say to make anybody feel better.

“I am just too nervous to talk with him about it.” Tsireya mentions.

“Hey, remember how nervous you were when you talked to him about Lo’ak?” I asked her and she nodded.

“He might be feeling that same way, but he was supportive- or at least I think he was, because you’re courting Lo’ak now. I’m sure he’s more nervous to tell you than you are of asking him.” I told her and she nods in understanding.

Just then we all hear the sound of the horn signifying the return of the hunters. Tsireya turns and I take advantage of her eyes being off me to scan the crowd for her brother, unable to find him in the massive crowd of teal bodies, although Lo’ak stood out to me and so did Spider. I’m glad I had the weaved garment nearby as soon as Tsireya turns since my eyes looked at my finger positioning at the same time she turned.

“Don’t worry, Y/n, we’re almost done.” She reassures me and I look back up at her, nodding my head as we started weaving once more.

“How long does that usually take?” I asked her.

“It’s tradition for the tsahik to say a few words and bless the union of the pair. Then we celebrate all night with dancing, singing, drinking, it lasts a long time too.”

“How soon do you think they’ll have kids?” I ask in genuine curiosity before feeling Kiri’s lightest swat at the back of my head and Tsireya full on laughing.

“Sorry, I forget tawtute are more invasive than you guys, but I was genuinely curious Kiri, I swear I wasn’t making a joke.” I turned my head toward her as she was squatting behind me finishing separating the shells.

“It depends on them,” Tsireya answered.

_________

Eclipse was quick to come from the moment we’d all finished cooking and getting ready for the union. The couple always had the tsahik speak blessings on them just before eclipse started and once it was over the two would share with the clan the vows they choose to make for their partner.

After the vows are shared, the tsakarem- Tsireya- lays down the garment behind the two and they turn to step on the shell in the middle. At this very moment the two were sharing their vows about their love for each other and I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander over and catch a glimpse of Y/n.

She had one of her hands covering her mouth in awe as her other hand wiped away the tears escaping her eyes. I could see her sniffle a bit to contain herself and Kiri leans over to pat the girls head gently. I couldn’t help but smile at her reaction toward the ceremony and felt my heart swell with pride at the absolute sweet heart she is.

The couple had turned around and broken the shell, Tsireya kneeling on the floor to count the pieces the shell had broken into.

“Kinä!” Tsireya yells as everyone cheers.

Seven, they’re going to have five children between the two, what a blessing! I turned with a slight smile of my own and capture Y/n’s eyes with my own and she lifts her hand to sign a quick Hello. I signed back and she smiles widely.

It doesn’t take long for the singing to begin after they had gathered their shell pieces and everyone stood up. This would be the perfect opportunity to slip away to the woods with Y/n. I capture her eyes once more and cock my head back toward the woods and she nods her head, turning back to pretend to be paying attention to whatever her brother was saying.

I’d started walking away first, knowing she’d have to find her own way out of the conversation she was in. We often did this to prevent anyone from noticing us slipping away together and starting a rumor that would spread faster than whatever rumor was started that morning.

I knew it would probably take a bit for her to come meet me in the clearing so I’d decided to lurk a bit closer toward the edge of the woods to just watch her. Only to flare my nose when I’d noticed Rotxo walk up to her, wondering what in the great mother he thought he was doing. I’d wanted to walk over to her and pick her up and away from his presence but I knew what would happen if I did.

I didn’t need to be upsetting my mother at this moment, not that I would have cared, but she was due to give birth soon. And having my sibling pop out while my mother was stressed wasn’t a good mix. I also didn’t want to embarrass Y/n in front of her family or let her sweet ears listen to whatever kind of messed up comments the clan would have to say. I also don’t want to upstage the happy couple that decided to stay for a while before heading off toward the spirit tree.

I could see Y/n laugh at whatever Rotxo had said and could feel the pure jealousy filling the pit of my stomach. He smiled at her reaction and seemed overall nervous, I was easily angered and my tail swayed furiously. He’d nodded at what she said and headed off before she looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to her, once she was in the clear she started heading toward the wooded area again, I’d backed off from plain sight and started trudging my way toward the clearing.

I could hear her tiny footsteps walking near the clearing but I had my back turned toward her as I sat with my thoughts and fidgeted with my fingers. I truly did not want to be jealous, but I couldn’t help to feel that way, I had no idea what else to do.

“Guess who!” She had placed her hands over my eyes. She told me a little bit ago that tawtute often did this to one another, what for I can’t say, but it defeats the purpose when I know her smell, her voice, and I could hear her smacking her feet with every step.

“Tìyawn, you scare the sea life within a five mile radius with how loud you walk.” I stated as her arms slip from my sight, my eyes adjusting toward the bioluminescent lights provided by the plants around us, and her pouty face comes around to greet me. I smile softly and reach for her face, pulling her into a sweet short kiss, pulling back from her and staring at her eyes.

“That was mean.” She stated in fake hurt as she crossed her arms next, stomping her feet as she turned around, acting like a child. But I carefully snake my arm around her waist and pull her back toward me, kissing the back of her neck, her resolve crumbling.

“Thats loser talk, little one.” I nuzzle the back of her neck with my nose and she shivers at the touch, her smell was wonderful and it helped calm me down. I took a couple of sniffs before she pulled herself away from me.

“I need to talk to you about something,” She mentioned seriously and it made my heart drop.

“Does it have to do with why Rotxo was all over you?” I asked and felt like kicking myself in the face, she was confused and another emotion settled onto her features, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Where you watching me?” She asks with a hint of something in her voice but it was frustrating me that I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“No,” I looked away from her gaze but she laughs lightly. Was this amusing to her?

“Look at me,” She stated so gently but I didn’t have to heart to, settling to looking at the ground, but feeling her soft hands on my cheeks as she turned my face to look at hers was making me feel shy.

“Hey,” She coo’s gently and I finally look at her. Her smile was still evident and she looks amused.

“I do not-“ I was cut off as she places the backs of her fingers on my mouth to shush me.

“Theres no need to be jealous, Ao’nung, Rotxo was telling me about how his situationship was going along. He’s confided in me as a friend.”

“I’m not jealous.” I scoff and look away before feeling her hands guiding my stare back toward her.

“No, of course not, my mistake.” She runs her thumbs against my cheeks lovingly that I couldn’t help but close my eyes and hum happily. “But you don’t have to worry about me being interested in anyone else, okay?” She makes it sound like a question but I know she wasn’t really awaiting an answer. I’d opened my eyes as she spoke but felt doubtful.

“But what if you find someone else?” I asked her and felt my insecurities rising.

“Never. I only see you, Tìyawn, only you.” She reassures me.

“Oel ngati kameie, little one,” I stated almost immediately after she had and we meet in the middle for a kiss.

“You know what we should do right now?” She asks me as she backs up from my lips and I pout slightly at the loss of her being so close.

“What?”

“Have sex in the water-“ She tries hiding her amusement but her eyes were twinkling.

_________

Further on closer toward the opposite edge of the woods where we’d come from are more walkways that reach smaller islands within the Metkayina and the other clans nearby. There was usually someone watching post nearby or walking around but due to the celebration, Tonowari was nice enough to let them have a small break and come down to have fun.

“There is something I wanted to tell you,” I stated while panting as his fangs tickled my neck.

“Mm,” He mutter mindlessly but his ears flicker up toward me to listen.

“Your dad is hot-“ I hold back a giggle as he makes a disapproving look, his lips swollen from our heavy make out session, biting my lip as I look down at his mouth and back up his eyes.

“Yeah?” His eyes darkened as his head tilts to the side, hands gingerly gripping my thighs and dragging me toward him. “Why is that?” He asks with a finger on my chin, making sure I don’t shy away from his intense eye contact.

“The tattoo’s that cover his face, he’s very kind, his voice is deep, he’s very strong.” I listed while staring right at Ao’nung, his smirk settling in his face.

“I’ve got tattoos on my face.” He stated as his hands start running across my thighs softly.

“Not very many,” I retort and his big hands start caressing my inner thighs.

“Am I not kind to you, little one?” He asks while kissing at my jaw line and once again down my neck, his fingers dangerously close to where I needed them.

“I-I guess-“ I gasp as he finally pushes my tewng to the side and glides his thumb over my clit.

“Is my voice not deep when I pleasure you?” He asks straight into my ear and plunges one finger straight in and I couldn’t help but moan.

“Hmm?” He grazes my g-spot and I shudder under him, closing my eyes and enjoying his ministrations. I feel his finger remain still and it causes me to open my eyes again.

“Yes!” I whine and he chuckles.

“Look at how pathetic you are and I’ve only used one finger. Do you really think you could handle my father?” He asks cockily.

“Just want you-“ I groan as he slides a second finger in.

“Hmm, are you certain?” He purposely curls them over my G-spot, not even bothering to thrust them anymore, just moving them over my spongey spot repeatedly.

“Am I too weak for you?” He asks and pecks my lips.

“N-no,“ I try concentrating on my words but concentrate on bucking my hips instead, eyes closed tightly, grasping onto his arm for dear life as he continues pleasuring me.

“Fuck,” I moan out loudly and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I thought you wanted to do this in the water.”

“Hmm,” I buck my hips against his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He asks and I only nod my head as much as I could just to feel the orgasm ripped away from me as he removes his fingers. But before he says anything I crawl on his lap kissing him and grinding myself over his noticeable bulge.

“It almost feels like you prefer me over my father,” He teases while sliding me against his body as he stands, discarding his tewng in the sand, and walking into the water.

“Wait what about mine-“ I asked but it was too late.

“Just in case anyone comes by unexpectedly, you’ll be safe.” He kisses me and bites my bottom lip teasingly.

“I do prefer you over your father,” I wrapped my arms around his neck answering his previous question.

“I’m not convinced,” he once again moves my tewng to the side, and pushes his penis in one go, after having done this for the past month its safe to say he fits well, and the initial sting does bother me but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before when we’d first done it.

“Oh shit-“ I gasp and shut my eyes and squeeze my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms squeezing his neck, his own hands squeezing my hips.

“You feel so good little one, such a good girl taking my cock like that,”

I tried not to react to what he was saying but I’m sure my pussy was giving it away, his smirk returning on his face causing me to shiver.

“You like that?” He asks but doesn’t giving me a chance to answer before thrusting his hips upward.

“W-wait!” I whine as he continues thrusting rapidly, feeling my orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine, pretty girl, all mine.” He grows into my ear and the possessiveness coming from it makes me moan loudly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” The mantra spills out of my lips so easily and I can hear him grunting with every thrust.

“Touch me, little one, touch my ears-“ He begs and his hands squeeze my hips harder, but I bring my hands up to caress his ears, somehow he thrusts even faster and his hips are meeting mine.

“Fuck!” I yell as his pelvis strokes my clit deliciously with how deep, fast, and hard he was going. I could feel his ears trembling under my touch and the most unexpected constant flow of whimpers coming from his mouth.

“Such a good girl, wanna paint your pretty walls with my come-“ He mutters.

“Come Ao’nung, please!” I cry as I feel myself being tipped over the edge, his own orgasm chasing after mine. I was always curious about their come, it had a slight blue glow to it, shining very brightly in the night.

“You’re wild, Tìyawn,” He states as he gently pulls out, sweeping his fingers inside to make sure to get all of his come off me.

“Do you think your dad fucks as hard as you do?”

He splashes water in my face and I can’t help but laugh at my own comment and the disapproving look he’d given me.

“I only see you, yawne.” I repeat to him and kiss him.

“I only see you, little one.” He connects our foreheads together and I feel at peace as I hold onto him.

“I want to stay like this forever,” I hum in appreciation as he gently runs one of his hands against my back.

“I know but we need to go back soon. We can’t get caught.”

“Speaking of getting caught, when should we tell Tsireya?” I asked as I remembered the conversation we were having at the beach earlier today and the real reason I’d told him I needed to tell him something.

“Are you sure you want to tell her? She can be a loud mouth.” He stated and I pout a bit.

“She mentioned noticing a change in you this past month but was upset that you haven’t told her anything. She would keep our secret.” I stated as he begins walking out of the water.

“Is it something you are sure about?” He asks and I just look at him in surprise.

“Is it something you want to tell her? She is your best friend.” I add on to earn sympathy points from him.

“I do,” He nods. “But, I worry that my mom will find out,”

“No wait, I care more about you than what my mother thinks, but-“

“I know, she’s still scary,” I smile up toward him to let him know I wasn’t offended by his words. His feet had finally touched the sand and I try wriggling off of him.

“Lets stay like this until we get back.”

“You’re naked right now. Nobody else can see you like this.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he just smiles, planting a kiss on my mouth.

“Weren’t you the one who said there was no need to get jealous?”

“I will cut your dick off.”

“You’d wrap those pretty lips around it before you cut it off, little one,”

“Stooop!” I blushed at his words.

_________

“Oh, Hey! Where have you been?” Tsireya had turned right after I tapped her arm gently to gain her attention since she’d been dancing with a group of friends. These girls were friends from her childhood and were known to be gossipers but appeared to have drank a little much at the same time given their sways. I was just thankful we were closer toward the edge of the crowd and not near the singers where it was hard to hold a conversation.

“Could I introduce you to someone?” I’d asked her in a hushed voice. I wanted to be careful with how I’d stated anything around her friends since I had no intention of allowing them to overhear our conversation. I also didn’t want to risk them hearing anything and getting the wrong idea, or allowing their liquid courage to give them any reason to follow us, I just wanted to tell Tsireya, nobody else.

After getting out of the water we’d sat back in the clearing to dry off but her hair seemed to be drying at a slower pace than normal, probably due to no sun or heat being available, and my mind had shifted toward what she had said at the cave where tawtute were sensitive to temperatures. I’d asked her if she wanted a blanket to wrap herself around but she’d refused until I told her I would find Tsireya and bring her over where I felt her shivering and decided to grab a blanket from our marui, bringing it over so she could warm up while I left her to find my sister.

My sisters face goes blank before being switched over toward a new emotion that settles on her face that she fails to hide but she nods either way. She’d turned toward her friends saying I had shown up to escort her home since she had to start early tomorrow morning. It was a wonderful excuse in order for her to part from them, but that meant our trek over toward the clearing would have to take a little longer getting there.

We’d walked in silence toward the marui’s before making sure her friends could not see us anymore to give them the impression that we’d gone home. She pauses behind a random marui but I’m thankful she signs since it is uncertain if anybody else was at home or not.

Where is she? Her giddy smile and the excitement glowing in her eyes were a testament to how she felt at the moment.

She’s in the clearing, we’ll have to walk for a bit. I signed back and turned around to start walking over, and I’m certain she was following behind.

It was just now that I could feel my heart pounding in my chest with each step we took, getting closer to the clearing had my stomach tumbling too, my airway felt constricted and my mouth was dry. I decided to take a deep breath to try to calm myself and slowly exhaled.

“I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone. You can’t tell your friends at all, you can’t even tell Lo’ak, we’re trying to hide it from mom.” I admitted as we continued walking, we were a littlw ways out from the clearing and all I could think was if this was a good idea or not.

“If that is what you wish I will not tell a soul, but are you certain you want me to meet her?” The lightest touch on my arm caught my attention and I turned, noticing she’d stopped.

No matter how bad she’d wanted to know a secret anyone was hiding, she always made sure to keep her nose out of it, she would always wait for someone to approach her and never shared that secret with anyone else, always keeping it. When we were smaller, our mother forbid me to go hunting with the bigger kids because she knew I’d get hurt, let’s just say I didn’t listen to her and definitely got hurt. Tsireya had walked in on my arm bleeding from a cut I got from coral - since I tried wooing the people I was with- as I searched the salves my mother kept in a box. She’d taken the paste away from my hand and grabbed another one that looked completely different and handed it to me, putting the other one in its place.

She even took the time to place the smallest bits of seaweed on it to help the paste stay in the cut. She’d spent the entire day standing next to me to cover her work so our mother wouldn’t yell at me. She refused to leave my side when her friends called and when our mother asked us why she was stuck on my side she said it was because she loved me.

“I can turn back if you want, no matter how bad I want to know who she is, I can wait.” She adds again and doesn’t even bother trying to sneak a peek around me.

“You’re my best friend, there is nobody else I’d want to introduce her to.” I reassure her and turn to walk again. We were nearing the clearing and I could catch a hint of her wrapped in my blanket.

“Just promise you won’t tell a soul, not even Eywa,” I whispered and she pokes my back for fun.

“Eywa knows all.” She jokes as she whispers back and we are finally here.

“Little one,” I called out to her and she turns her head to face me, her back stiffened as she stands even straighter, Tsireya remained behind me and hadn’t stepped out.

“I brought my sister.” I motion for her to come closer and she does, her footsteps being soft and calculated, she also seemed nervous.

“You ready, ‘Reya?” I asked as I tilted my head back so she could see me, she gives me a nod, and her eyes widened as I stepped out of her way, falling upon the tawtute in a shocked manner. She turns to look between myself and Y/n before uttering her first word.

“Ahh,” It was as if she’d had a sudden moment of clarity as her eyes settled back on Y/n. I could tell ma’tìyawn was letting the doubt fill in, her eyes were knitted upward as she stared up at my sister.

“Hi sweets,” She spoke nervously.

“This actually makes sense.” Tsireya states as if she were in a trance.

“You came back home hours after the storm had stopped, why ai couldn’t find her a little after you’d disappeared, why you’re nicer!” She poked my arm excitedly.

“You are courting my favorite tawtute!” She yells happily and I’m only thankful to Eywa for a celebration happening at this moment, if not I was sure everyone in the clan had heard her.

She had turned and ran up toward my tawtute, picking her up and squealing happily, I could feel my heart slowing down and my stomach settling, a cool feeling overtaking my once erratic nerves as I see the two embracing, a smile settles on my features as the two most important women in my life were embracing each other.

“I was so scared to tell you!” Y/n stated as she too seemed to be at ease.

“I should have pieced it together, but this is a good thing! You’re making him much less grumpy! Only the sweetest of souls could do that, and I should have known it was you!” Tsireya settles her down again as she sits down, crossing her legs.

“Tell me, is he hitting it right?” Tsireya asks and Y/n blushes.

“Who taught you that!” Y/n asks as Tsireya giggles.

“The person whose currently hitting this-“ She points at herself.

“Ugh, gross, Tsireya, don’t taint my tawtute.” I roll my eyes at the conversation being had in front of me.

“I knew you guys were boning,” Y/n comments back with a smile of her own.

“Yawne, thats gross,”

“Awe! Yawne?” Tsireya asks with the widest smile.

“I shouldn’t have let you two meet.” I sigh and place my hand over my face while shaking my head in disappointment.

“I thought you’d hate me for keeping this secret.”

“No no, you have every right to, have you told anyone else?”

“We haven’t told anyone else but we want to eventually, we’re taking small steps.” I speak up and Tsireya nods.

“Come sit,” Y/n pats the grass beside her, I walk over and sit where she’d pointed to and grab her, sitting her on my lap, my arms wrapped around her blanketed form. Tsireya cooing at how cute she thought this whole thing was, it made me blush for sure, I could only imagine my tawtute’s face at the comments. We’d enjoyed each others company throughout the rest of the night.

Walking back toward the back end of the Marui’s we reach the walkways where Y/n stops, turning to face me and taking the blanket off of herself, handing it over to me. I take it and shamelessly smell it, smiling at the change in smell, what once smelled like me now has a hint of her in it. I squat on my toes to kiss her and she wraps her arms around my neck.

“I’ll miss you tonight.” I kiss her forehead.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow,” She lets out a light laugh and I kiss her again.

“You do know your sister is still watching, hmm?” She asks and I kiss her once more.

“Thats her problem.” She takes her arms away from my neck and steps back.

I’ll miss you tonight. She signs with a bright blush on her face and I could only imagine my sister was looking at her, I was correct since I heard the slightest of Awe’s from behind me.

I’ll miss you more I signed back at her and she waves before turning to walk toward the Sully marui.

_________

*this whole conversation is in English until you wake up in the morning, ok? I’d rather make a note here than using strike through on all of the text*

“And where do you think you’ve been?”

I’d long since frozen upon seeing his tall build standing near the walkway, nowhere close to where the entrance of our marui was, just far enough away from being heard from anyone inside it. I could have turned back and walked from where I came but I was sure he’d follow regardless, and I knew Ao’nung and Tsireya weren’t out of sight yet.

“Enjoying the nice fresh air, whats wrong with you?” I asked him, trying to play it off like it was nothing.

“No, because I saw you walk toward the woods earlier, but didn’t see anyone else. I can only assume whoever you went to meet had already gone ahead of you.”

I kept my face as neutral as possible, trying to think of a way out of this situation, but my mind was drawing blanks. If he saw me going into the woods then I’d have to find a way to lie about why I was there.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” I scoff and roll my eyes. “But the tree’s remind me of being in the forest. It helps bring my mind at ease during social situations where I feel like I’m suffocating-“

“You really can’t lie your way out of this, lets try that again.”

“I swear, for being born two minutes later you’re the biggest pain in my ass.”

“I may be younger but I’m wiser-“

“No you aren’t, skxawng.”

“You’ve got an answer for me or do I need to find it out myself and follow you around the entire island?”

“With your clear threat, I can only imagine you have a vague idea of why I’m out here.”

“Not really but you buried yourself into a hole with that comment.”

“Spider-“ I stated angrily and pause to try to calm myself down.

“You never hide anything from me, Y/n, I’ve given it some time but I’m worried about you. You disappear several times a day and reappear even more tired. Is someone making you do something, or are you sick and you’re afraid to tell us?”

“Who is all home right now?” I asked aloud and Spider sighs.

“Jake, Neytiri, and Tuk. She got tired and they came back home. Lo’ak and Kiri were staying a bit longer but they should be coming home soon.”

“Give me until tomorrow afternoon and I can answer that question for sure.”

“Y/n-“ He stated immediately before I held my hand up to stop him from continuing.

“I am not being threatened to doing anything, I can assure you I’m fine, I just need to think about it, okay?”

He nods warily as I sigh.

“Just until tomorrow.” He agrees. Spider knew my body language well enough to understand when I’d been lying, but to also tell if I was okay, which I assume he got the hint and thats why he agreed.

“I’m tired, we should go sleep.” I suggested to move this along and he nods, walking over toward the entrance of the marui, and pushing aside the curtain covering the entrance.

Falling asleep had proven to be harsh as I continued tossing to find a comfortable position and no longer finding it comforting after getting settled, leaving me to turn once more and the cycle continued for a while. Jake and Neytiri had already put Tuk in bed and had stayed up until Lo’ak and Kiri came in.

We all talked in hushed voices about how special their ceremony was and how many people they talked to. It didn’t take long for them to have fallen asleep as they were probably tired and I was left to fend for myself. I’d had just about enough of not getting comfortable and stepped out of the marui, surprised that I’d managed to struggle all night since the daylight was starting to creep up onto the water.

I carefully and quietly walked over toward the beach and sat with my back against a tree. Staring out into the water and taking a second to enjoy the tranquility of the gentle waves rolling about, wetting the sand of the shoreline.

“You’re up early,”

“We need to talk.” I stated curtly before turning to make direct eye contact with him, his face had a slight smile but I could tell it had fallen at my tone.

“Whats wrong?” He asked as he squats near me.

I let out a sigh before telling him what had happened right after he dropped me off. I didn’t forget to mention that I’d told my brother I’d give him some kind of answer in the afternoon and Ao’nung smiled weakly toward me.

“What?” I asked.

“We might need to come clean to the whole group.” He suggests and I’m sure the look on my face showed how scared I was.

“Hey, it doesn’t matter what anyone says, I won’t leave you, little one.”

“Thats not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” He asks and looks like he’s about to grab onto my arm comfortingly before I see another teal body coming up and my instant reaction is to shake my head at the action, his arm was only slightly outstretched and I am thankful to all of my senses at that moment

“What are you doing?”

Both our heads snap back up toward the woman standing beside us, her own eyes narrowed as she looks directly at me, then sliding back to her son waiting for his response. I should have known she wouldn’t be talking to me and I’m sure if she were she’d believe I was lying.

“Just asking if we were still meeting up later.” He lies through his teeth and I felt a sense of pride run through me. His mother shifts her gaze at me as if to ask ‘alone?’ I couldn’t help but continue staring at her.

“Tsireya told Kiri to convince Y/n to come,” He adds to let her know we weren’t meeting alone and she turns to look at her son and nods as of she were still processing what he’d said. I turn to look at him as his gaze shifts toward mine and he seems panicked. I raised my brow and look at the sand again, essentially telling him to calm down.

“Very well.” She stated and holds an outstretched hand for him to go toward her. “Excuse us, Y/n,” she bows her head lightly and it shocks me at the respect she had just given me, but I have to remind myself its to keep up appearances.

I’d taken it upon myself to head back to the marui to wake everyone up and get started on our day considering we were slightly busy. The quicker we finished our share of work the more time we could spend together and the best opportunity to tell them while everyone else- including Ao’nungs mother- would continue being busy with their works.

_________

“Where have you been?” Tsireya asks as if to scold me for being the only one to have joined the group late.

“I had to throw our mother off my scent. She already caught us this morning.” I explained and her ears flicker upward.

“Technically I have, like, thirty seconds left before I can tell you-“ I can hear my tawtute speaking as her brother looks angrily toward her. Out of habit, I froze and pretended my attention was elsewhere, completely forgetting for a bit why we were all gathered here.

“Thats bullshit Y/n, tell me what stupid thing you’re hiding.”

“I told you I would let you know if I decided to tell you, not that I would for sure tell you!” She yells back at him.

“Well its already been thirty seconds.” Spider crosses his arms and stares at his tsmuke awaiting an answer.

“It’s been fifteen-“ She sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s been thirty seconds, Yawne.” I agree with her brother aloud and Spider completely misses the point of what I’d said as he shouts a victory toward Y/n.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” She stated calmly toward me.

Kiri had stood with her mouth agape as Spider just raised a brow at his sister- still missing how we were acting toward each other. Rotxo had his mouth open while forming a shocked smile, looking between us and Kiri. Lo’ak seemed to have just caught on to what was said as his brows furrow.

“Wait a minute- Yawne?” Spider finally catches on and looks between us in shock and I felt like now would have been a perfect time for Kiri to laugh, but I’m assuming it came as too much of a shock for everyone.

“No way-“ Spider states shocked.

“Oh my Eywa,” Kiri places her hands over her mouth but fails to hide her excitement as she lets out a small squeal.

“I should have known someone tamed the beast,” Rotxo comments with a smirk as he shakes his head in surprise.

“Are you serious?”

All heads turned toward the forest boy who’d uttered those words. It definitely didn’t sound like he had been too happy to find out, but he wasn’t yelling about it either, his voice definitely held a calm tone to it, but it was impossible to ignore the harshness that came with it.

“Lo’ak,” Tsireya begins as his eyes go over toward hers.

“You knew?” He asks in disbelief and her ears flicker down a bit, her face changing to show her apology.

“She only found out yesterday, Lo.” Y/n states upon seeing my sisters immediate change in mood.

“You mean to tell me you told Tsireya before telling anyone else?” He asks a little louder this time.

“Maybe now you can see why we decided to tell her?” She sasses back at Lo’ak.

“Look, Y/n,” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales. “Theres no way you can be with this-“ He points toward me and stops talking.

“You loved my brother.” He stated firmly.

“Yes, I do love Neteyam. But I love Ao’nung too.”

“No you don’t.” He stated just as quick. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

“You love me?” I asked in shock.

“Not now,” She states at me while holding her hand up to acknowledge me but continuing to stare at Lo’ak. “You cannot tell me what I feel. Or are you suddenly becoming your dad and think you know whats best for me?” She asks in anger.

“Guys, we should take a second to cool down.” Kiri breaks their angered animosity toward them and both Lo’ak and Y/n’s faces soften.

“I just-“ Lo’ak states as a sudden realization hits him and he sighs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, especially since you’ve been hurt before when you didn’t even get to say goodbye. And especially with him.” Lo’ak looks toward me but I can understand why.

“Lo,” Y/n stated softly as she walks toward him and hugs him, knowing how close they were and their kind of relationship I had no reason to be jealous, but wondered if he would hurt her due to his anger from before.

“You’re my tsmukan. And I loved your tsmukan. But moving on is part of the healing.” She stated and he wraps his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes.

“He is good to me, I promise.”

“Sometimes it feels like Lo’ak is a better brother than I am, should I have reacted that way-“ Spider started before letting a loud oof escape his lips, nobody spared him a glance as it was obvious Kiri had smacked him upside the head.

“You break her heart, and I’ll break your face with my fists.” Lo’ak threatens as Y/n giggles.

“I am aware of my actions from the past and have also asked for an apology from all of you. I do not plan to break that trust nor break your tsmuke’s heart. I would also like to point out I was not expecting to be hit in the face that time.” I stated and could hear my tawtute giggling.

“Don’t feel sorry for yourself now Tìyawn,” I can feel her little fingers on my face as I’d failed to hear her come up to me for the first time. She’d stood on a rock behind me to reach me and I’d taken her by the waist to slide her off the rock and holding her close onto myself.

“He hit me many times-“ I pouted and she started laughing.

“Yes, I praised him when I heard the story,”

“Hey!”

“Hey.” She pecks my lips and a chorus of eww’s are heard from our friend group.

“Not like you all don’t kiss each other anyway-“ She sticks her tongue out at them and its my turn to join in on the laughter.

“Are you planning on telling sa’nok and sempul too?” Lo’ak asks and Y/n’s face falls slightly again.

“We’re trying to keep that from happening. Ronal is definitely the last person that needs to know and if we told your parents I’m sure they’d tell her next. And I don’t want to face Neytiri’s wrath from another native woman again.” She shivers and I can tell its a sore subject for her.

“She’ll find out eventually, but it’ll be too late by then, Tìyawn. And I’m not letting you go either, yeah?”

“Yeah,” She agrees as I set her down.

#avatar smut #avatar #avatar the way of water smut #afab reader #human reader #aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x reader smut

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pitter-patt-art · 4 months ago

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Ace Attorney AU August (halfway progress update!)

Okay technically it's the 16th (lol, 17th by the time this is done) so a little over halfway actually, but still I thought since I haven't had anything finished to post the past few days this would be a fun alternative!

I've been going a little nuts (affectionate) over @augustwritingchallenge's AU-gust prompts list this year so August has been a wild ride (about 40k words of one, in fact. so far.) but seeing as I will get attached to even the jokiest of AU ideas instantly, I've completed* a whopping 5 whole fics of 16, lol. Considering the shortest of those is over 3k and the longest is over 12k, I think the problem with not finishing these in a timely manner is entirely on my verbose foolish thick skull, haha, but I'm still having a blast with it.

Here is my ao3 series where I'm posting!

And a rundown / progress report / quick teaser of all the AUs including those I've yet to finish, if anyone's interested:

(*by "completed" I should note two of the already posted fics are basically assuredly going to be continued past the challenge, but let's say "completed enough to post and be on theme")

1. Canon Divergence - complete - 4.5k words ("For the Murder of Mr. Wrong" link)

Mia POV, gen. What if Dahlia succeeded in poisoning Phoenix and framed Doug Swallow instead (and then Mia defended him in court)? Basically a 3-1 rewrite. Fun Fact: I only came up with this AU because before I even remembered AU-gust existed at all, I'd come up with like 4 totally separate AUs in which I poison Phoenix in various ways With Real Consequences because it amuses me, lol, but he survives all those other ones and I eventually realized I hadn't even considered straight up killing him off yet so I figured I should try it at least once, haha.

2. Colorless - complete 1st chapter - 3.2k words ("Grey Matters" link)

Phoenix POV (for 1st ch --prob alternating after), wrightworth. "You can't see color until the first time you touch your soulmate"-soulmate AU. 1st chapter is their first meeting as kids (skipping the class trial itself). Fun Fact(s): I really love a color soulmate AU! Big fan of the "only see the color of their eyes" type of one too but uhhh on top of that working better for things that have wild anime eye colors, you could not pay me enough to try to figure out what the HELL is going on with Ace Attorney eye colors at any given time lmfao. (Also--spoilers for what i haven't written yet but hey if you're here you earned it--this IS one of my very many "teehee what if i poison Phoenix just a smidge as a treat for me" fics. NOT my fault the man ATE GLASS. That's on him.)

3. Dark Academia - complete "1st chapter" - 4.4k words ("The Spirit of the Laws of Magic" link)

Mia POV, lanamia. Magical boarding school setting featuring corruption and missing-student conspiracies and a most likely overthought system of magic with hierarchies and prejudices in societal views of academic/formulaic vs folk/innate magic. Fun Fact: I really thought for SURE i was going to skip this day entirely, lol. (foolish.) I don't think i've actually ever personally read anything "dark academia", technically--so if this doesn't read EXACTLY that way, there you go, but i did my best. I also then thought I could live with keeping this vague but I accidentally thought about it too long so... plus at least two people on top of myself at this point have expressed interest in more of this and so I have some semi-concrete Plans™ now.

4. Zombie Apocalypse - conceptualized (but not started)

Concept: probably gen and Phoenix POV, but also because I'm me and they're them, at least a little bit wrightworth even if it isn't necessarily explicit in any meaningful way bc they are Not Normal about each other lol. A little sketchy on how much of an "AU" this counts for, since it could probably be argued to be canon compliant somehow, but basically just: Universe where they make a Pride and Prejudice and Zombies-type Steel Samurai reboot movie thing (featuring, you guessed it, zombies), and Miles comes over and forces Phoenix to watch it with him just to have someone to bitch about it at, and then during that time Maya blows her way into Phoenix's apartment as well with the exact same intentions except her "day job" isn't quite as time-sensitive-strict so she's already finished watching it earlier and knows all the spoilers. Honestly a good chance Phoenix and Pearl (who came with Maya) end up hiding out in the kitchen together to let Maya and Miles rile each other up in front of the TV, but I'm never exactly sure where they'll take me once I wind them up and set them loose on the page, so who knows. I also hadn't necessarily determined the exact time frame yet but for it to make sense as a reboot-type movie/special episode/whatever it probably should be 7yg-or-later so Trucy may or may not be there as well. (That said, in my struggles to complete an actually short one-shot, I probably shouldn't even include Pearl let alone Trucy, lol.) Fun Fact: I also thought I'd skip this day bc I'm not the biggest zombie guy in the world, and to be fair, I managed to do Way Less with it than the dark academia prompt so, yippie?

5. Chess Players - incomplete (currently 3k word WIP)

Miles POV, wrightworth. Miles is a chess grandmaster and back in Japanifornia for the upcoming world cup tournament, but his greatest challenge is actually to FINALLY best Franziska in their annual who-can-get-the-best-Christmas-gift competition. Luckily, he just so happened to hear of an artist who makes bespoke chess sets, so the plan is to get a custom board made for Franziska without her finding out. The plan is not to get trapped in a weird art collective labyrinth with some model-photographer named Cindy who keeps hitting on him but also happens to be protective of the artist he's there to see because "she and her boyfriend kinda-sorta owe him big time", but this is what he gets for coming here without doing any extra research into the artist besides seeing his work and hearing only "his name is White, or, eh, something like that, you know how those artist types are" from Mr. Amano. (AU where we replace law with chess and no I don't think Phoenix could necessarily hack it in the top-world-grandmasters-level of chess tournaments HOWEVER have you considered he DID go to art school so what if he just tries selling custom chess sets until somehow that reconnects him with Miles. Is that somehow a more insane plan than studying law? Maybe. Did Manfred still shoot Gregory but now it was over fucking chess? Maybe. Idk. But I did let Greg live this time at least!) Fun Fact: we can all DEFINITIVELY blame my lovely, terrible, very wonderful friend Ben (shameless friend plug! she's an outstanding writer and has some AA fics of her own too!! @kindlystrawberry on tumblr!!) for making a total joke about "well what about au where they make chess pieces instead" while i lamented not knowing enough about chess to write an actual match and spawning this ENTIRE concept. It is her fault. 100%. She is the guilty party. (I want to finish this one VERY BADLY. Save me.)

EVIDENCE!!!!! Guilty.

6. Reality Show - incomplete (currently 700 word WIP)

Phoenix (& Franziska) POV(s), background wrightworth wedding planning going on as set up but it's also definitely just one of my many excuses to set Phoenix and Franziska up as bitchy worsties who can't admit they enjoy each other's company and will cut you down if you suggest it as such. So far I've only written the quote "set-up" section which is in Phoenix's POV, but that was SUPPOSED to be like 5 paragraphs and cut away and then lead into my actual plan for the main body, which was to be in Franz's instead, so. This is very similar to the zombie one in that it's them watching reality tv instead of being contestants on a show (I don't personally like or watch a lot of reality tv so my creative well was somewhat dry on how to make that work) and then I accidentally thought about Phoenix and Franziska watching something just to judge and tear apart the decisions of every person on it and that was too fun to not consider further, haha. Basically the plan is just they get left alone together and don't know what to do with that and end up wine-drunk and making fun of some reality dating show of some kind and Miles and Trucy come back to them losing it together over something stupid and are like "......uh. what's happening." Fun Facts: I really love the thought experiment of Franziska somehow discovering how often Phoenix's internal dialogue/reads on situations and especially people can be So Bitchy And Judgey despite his affable complexion, and her unfortunately finding his opinions to SOMETIMES be somehow slightly okay. Moderately correct, even--occasionally. I know the section she follows you-as-Phoenix around in T&T is really not long at ALL, but I adore it. There's something about it that so badly makes me want to force them into proximity more (to both their chagrin, I'm sure).

7. Farm/Ranch - complete - 12k words ("Two Little Dickey Byrdes" link)

Gumshoe POV, gumbyrde (tho i still think dickeybyrde is a funnier ship name). 5+1 things--except more like maybe 7-or-8+1 to be honest--so it's more: over 5 times Dick and Maggey sit on a wall together and 1 time they find someone else there instead. AKA: Dick runs his family's small farm (think fantasy farm like in a farming sim or maybe horse girl novel type of thing that has nothing to do with what a real farm is like lol don't worry about it) and Maggey starts working at the next farm over as the latest of her many odd jobs. Fun Fact: oh god this one got so far away from me. it was not supposed to be this long lmao. it's literally the elaborate set-up to a very silly Nursery-Rhyme-I-Didn't-Even-Know-About-Prior-To-This -based punchline!?! still, i was pleasantly surprised by how happy i was with this once it was done... two sittings and about 16 total hours later. haha).

8. Nomad - incomplete (planned/outlined)

Apollo (or possibly Klavier) POV, klapollo. Sort of Jove-Thalassa swap adjacent, but basically: AU where Jove survives the Khura'in fire but loses his memories for [contrived convince sake reasons]. (And also possibly loses some or all of his eyesight just to really go for the parallels?) Therefore: Jove and Apollo stay with Dhurke and Nahyuta and the Defiant Dragons for a time, while Jove recovers, but eventually they leave and head out on their own, just the two of them, and do the traveling musician thing, both because it's dangerous in Khura'in and Dhurke already canonically didn't want Apollo to get caught up in it and potentially get hurt to begin with and because with a functioning actual parent Apollo doesn't need to be taken in by him--and also Jove from what little we know seems like he prefers to be on the move and was already a world traveler anyhow, so even amnesiac maybe he gets a little antsy stuck in one place too long. And so like amnesiac Thalassa, Jove thusly becoming a renowned mysterious musician--and then Apollo, sweet tone deaf Apollo, becoming the sonager of all time (like a momager but...you get it) because he's not that into music but he IS into arguing for better conditions/making deals (contracts!! international legalese!! woohoo!!) with venues and promoters and stuff. And then--oops dang Lamioir still exists and now they have a meet-cute (2 electric bugaloo) (but by then it's later enough Trucy still exists because it will be a cold day in hell when I don't find a way to make her work) and they do music collabs or join up to form a group or whatever and OOPS this means now that Apollo and Jove are with Lamioir when The Gavinners / Klavier specifically meet her and get her to come to do the Guitar's Serenade concert eventually. And Apollo and Klavier ofc thusly also have a meet-cute and then talk and bond etc etc. AND THEN the au STOPS THERE and I DON'T think about how without Apollo Phoenix is totally getting convicted of Zak's murder because there's no way that trial works out as well for him with some other attorney and I also don't think about how reasonable it would then be that maybe Trucy ends up helping Valant with his work setting up the trick for the concert afterward on account of the one father in prison and the other being dead and having left behind a notarized confession clearing Valant's name of suspicion, etc. AND I DEFINITELY do not think about how i could then still so easily get everyone in one place at the concert for Turnabout Serenade and/or any possible funny Sibling (And Thalassa) Reveal that could happen i dont i dont i do not--

9. Accidental Baby Acquisition - conceptualized (not started)

Gen, possibly my weakest / least defined idea on this list, but basically: Phoenix kind of already lives this in canon, lol (insomuch as an 8yo counts as a baby) so I thought, well, how to take it a different direction, then? And I thought, I don't usually go for a Phoenix Fey kind of au because I personally really love the relationships he has with all the Feys as-is in canon and so it's not quite as funny to me as, say, a Miles Fey AU where like Misty and Gregory are married, or any of the ones in that bent, because I'm sorry but that's just SO funny (and sad, but mostly funny) any way you slice it--plus his NAME is RIGHT THERE mia-miles-maya he FITS--anyhow, that completely aside, there are just a lot of reasons I really love the platonic relationships the Feys already have with Phoenix and I don't think it NEEDS to be made specifically familial to still be so very important, y'know? BUT. That said. AU where Phoenix is idk abandoned as a baby or maybe his parents die young or something and it's like a Thing to leave babies at temples or churches or whatever, right? So like--Phoenix adopted by the Feys AU but only because the more i considered it the more i thought it would be WILD for him to literally know Maya her entire life, and it's fascinating to me to consider a Maya who ISN'T basically left all alone to her own devices (and Morgan's) and who has someone absolutely in her corner in the village the entire time even after Mia leaves (who isn't a baby when Mia leaves, love you tho Pearls), AND also and perhaps more importantly, the ships-passing-in-the-night-ness of a scene where, like: Morgan does something sketchy or whatever and Phoenix wants to keep Mia updated but for whatever reason decides to go down to the city and actually tell her in person and so he's waiting outside the courthouse or something (possibly part of or perhaps Most Of the reason he goes in person is because he knows her first courtroom trial is that day and he wants to see her + hear how it went) and when he gets there she's in a heated argument with some asshole in a fancy over-embellished jacket and once that guy leaves Phoenix is like "Sheesh, what's his problem?" You know???? And maybe he really would never even know!!!! Bc he grew up in Kurain!!!! And has no reason to care!!! About some random prosecutor who was mean to Mia!! Aaaah!!! So that, and on top of that, Diego would be there too ofc at that point, and I feel like he would ALSO be quite a funny interaction in this scenario. ("Wow, someone's popular, kitten, you have all sorts of guys waiting on a chance to talk to you, heh?" "Uh.--I'm sorry, WHAT did you just call her")

10. Enemies-to-Allies - incomplete (currently 370 word WIP)

Ema POV, faraskye. Cyberpunk AU where Lana is still under Gant's thumb and Ema, with no other way to stay close to her and getting rejected from any of the sorts of jobs she really wants to do, decides to just join the security force (or cyber police or w/e I decide to call it) and is tasked with hunting down the Yatagarasu, guerilla hacker supreme who is threatening the sanctity of the capitalist overlords. Except Ema's squad gets ambushed and she's captured and tied to a pole, and with her useless fop partner seemingly not coming to rescue her (if he even noticed her absence), she does some quick cost-benefit analysis and decides she didn't really like that job anyway and maybe there's another way she can get her sister back in her life. So she breaks free of her own handcuffs (which she definitely didn't modify into incidental ineffectiveness she's still testing for bugs) and helps fix the "Little Thief" device her captor seems to have broken despite how obviously valuable and impressive the tech is, and they eventually come to something of an agreement. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and all that. Either Ema as the hardware-engineer one and Kay as the software-programming one as the two sides of the tech coin, or else Kay can just be like doing the physical sneaking kind of spy stuff only--or maybe she knows a little about software but not so much she's a pro the way she is with infiltration and such. Possibly toying with the idea Kay herself is just completely an android, but if not, I think she has some cybernetic cyborg things going on regardless. Possibly from or inspired by her father? I also like the idea that Gant did something maybe more drastic with regards to having dirt on Ema to get Lana to do his bidding--like maybe Ema has a whole cybernetic hand because instead of just her handprint on a leather jacket, Gant has some sicko jar with her entire hand in it in his office safe, or something. I don't know why this would be useful to him but it is certainly an image. I also find it funny if Miss Fingerprint Powder Enthusiast doesn't actually have any fingerprints of her own anymore somehow in this AU, lol.

11. Retail Worker - complete - 6.7k words ("The Bake Anything Boulangerie" link)

Apollo POV, gen. Phoenix gets a job at a bakery instead of the Borscht Bowl Club during the 7 year gap, and Apollo happens to stumble across it and ends up meeting the Wrights while he's still in high school. He becomes a regular at the bakery and is already close to them by the time "Shadi Smith's" murder comes around. And also, yes, sibling reveal right away--at least as soon as Phoenix realizes and can reveal it. As a treat. (Other reveals, though, I might put poor Apollo through on a delayed basis. Also as a treat, lmao, just not one for him.) Fun Fact: I'm being redundant bc this is also in my a/n, but, Baker Phoenix lives rent-free in my brain because Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright was in fact the very first Ace Attorney game I ever played, technically, and Maya and Phoenix semi-brainwashed in that bakery was literally one of my first impressions of them. ........followed immediately by starting a let's play of Justice for All (which i watched through the first case, after which I was like oKAY fine maybe i DO need more context here, i should probably figure out what the actual first game is, and went back to start the series properly at the beginning hahaha). What do you MEAN i have a disproportionate fascination with amnesiac Phoenix, even if I have yet to finish and publish one of my myriad AUs that utilize stupid, unrealistic, plot convenient re-temporary amnesia?? Hm???? Idk what you're talking about. Also everyone who complains about 2-1 is wrong lmao it's objectively (okay subjectively is what i'm saying yes BUT objectively) such a funny place to start without knowing broad plot strokes, it's great. I both knew so much and absolutely shit-all nothing about Maya after PLvPW and 2-1, LMAO. god.

12. Animagus Wings (Joker) - incomplete (planned/outlined)

Miles POV, wrightworth. Angel/Demon AU, except I'm playing super fast and loose with the rules on that because all my knowledge of Christian-mythos comes from firstly and unknowingly the Chronicles of Narnia and more recently and cognizantly Lucifer (Netflix) and Good Omens. I know that's probably more or less what we're all doing with this kind of AU but still, I'm not even sure I want to refer to Heaven and Hell here, I'm kinda on the fence about maybe just keeping it all very vague? I also accidentally semi-worldbuilt more than i intended incidentally on account of "But Then How-Why Names If Angelic Creatures?" Format-wise it would semi-follow gomens s1 where it's hopping through some meetings between long stretches but also a kind of pre- and post- Fall type of thing? And potentially à la Lucifer becoming, like, these are My Mortal Humans and i will be Spending Time With Them, screw you celestial duties, I'm making my own Free Will, etc. And i mean i guess Lucifer is also a crime procedural lmao maybe they still solve crimes in the end too. Fun Fact: I didn't want to do the original prompt for several reasons, and sure fuck jkr is one of them but even before I knew about her I still wasn't really the biggest hp person in the first place? So i wouldn't know/don't remember at all the way it works without having to do the specific research and i...don't want to haha. Hence. And I know the prompt seems to be using it loosely / might just be borrowing the word and not actually referencing hp specifically but tbh either way human-animal shifter things just in general I can be somewhat picky about haha. (Okay okay plus full disclosure the ONLY idea I have for this sort of thing actually ties into my day-3-dark-academia-extended-au-verse and i COULD make my life simpler by just connecting the two days but Heh who would I be if I simplified things for myself... *sigh*) All that to say: I saw "wings" on the wild card list and I thought, ooh, well that's still sort of a related concept! Let's tag that one in! So it's still kind of day 12 prompt-adjacent, if you squint.

13. Found Footage - incomplete (planned/outlined)

Video Transcript POV? Is that a thing? Possibly capped by a little Phoenix POV (but i don't want that to get too long), wrightworth. Larry's new girlfriend of the month bakes weed brownies and Larry does not realize this and swings by the Wrights' apartment to beg some kind of help off Phoenix and forgets the whole tray there somehow (because it's Larry) and they leave to deal with Larry's thing and by the time they figure the brownies out, in some twist of fate Miles and Trucy have been hanging out (last minute babysitter/adult supervision? but she's at the very very least 14 or 15 here and most likely older, and Nick clearly isn't the most strict about like uhhh supervision in general lol sooo idk. he's helping her with a project or smth. it doesn't really actually matter; he's THERE, that's the important thing.) The point I'm very clearly getting at is they accidentally get incredibly high (not dangerously so because I'm not going that far haha but also, neither of them has actually been high before, so they are Affected) before Phoenix finds out what was in the brownies and tries to warn Trucy and hurry home to like, dispose of them or at least put a warning label on them or whatever, but he is too late lol. By a lot. Definitely an underage drugs tag on this bad boy because it's definitely sometime 18-or-earlier for Trucy, let alone 21. (idk about other places but as a Californian I can tell you Japanifornia "LA" could theoretically have it legalized at 21 for anyone (like alcohol) and 18 with Dr's permission--which Trucy definitely does not have in this AU lol.) Basically, Phoenix grabs Trucy's phone to get photo evidence so he can let them never live this down (after making sure they're okay lmao), but he ofc doesn't get technology so he doesn't realize he leaves the phone still recording when Trucy asks him for something / needs his help, so the recording just keeps going and captures a lot of tomfoolery and eventually some inebriated-to-Extremely-sober Feelings-Adjacent confessions (or maybe more like allusions). Idk, this was actually a fic I thought of before August and wanted to use as an excuse to try a Weird Format for fun, but then i saw this was a prompt on the list and...well. Fun Fact: Cannabis was legalized in California on November 8, 2016 (the first election I could vote in!!! ......uh, rip. lol. but yeah babey I helped legalize weed at least!! gotta remember the positives), which means it was legal right in time for Miles' case(s) / Turnabout Goodbyes!!! Yay!! I mean, I suppose that's genuinely seriously one way to try to mitigate nightmares and manage insomnia--not that I think Miles Edgeworth would ever deign stoop so low as to use an aid to manage his severe PTSD and trauma symptoms, psshaw, who do you take him for? (Get these people some help lol. They all need so much therapy.)

14. Princes & Princesses - conceptualized (not started)

So I've been reading a lot (a LOT) of isekai and/or revenge reincarnation romance fantasy manhwas lately (like, oh, too many, hahaha. they're quite good and they're VERY popular in webcomics at the moment.) Soooo. Soft pitch: Apollo already gets slapped into so many wild backstories he's constantly trying to dodge in an effort to be just a Normal Guy, he's honestly, like, the PERFECT protagonist for one of these lmao. And tell me Kristoph doesn't make a perfect "Upstanding Duke" kind of persona, and Klavier couldn't be the "wild rake" younger brother no one expects much from, and all I'm saying is it wouldn't be that hard to contrive a reason Apollo tries to get Klavier to agree to a contract marriage the way all these stories go, lol. And also, something something, Apollo from the "real world" is an orphan/has an absent family (also like so many of these manhwa protagonists, lol) but then he gets to actually have one in his second life!! I'm such a sucker for that shit. Slightly harder pitch, and the reason I did not let myself actually start writing anything (...yet): so what if the actual plot of the "original romance novel" Apollo is familiar with from the "real world (Earth)" is actually about the slightly older generation and something something instead of admiring Phoenix as a defense attorney, it's just that he instead was Apollo's favorite "love interest" character (not, like, for himself, just the one he most liked to read about) in every way except what a blithering idiot he became when the author had him fall for the female lead--but BEFORE that, he's a cool information guild leader guy who seems like he's trying to work toward some way to improve conditions for commoners in the kingdom (but abruptly there are no more mentions of this after he gets involved with the lead, which is annoying). Aaaand... I guess what I'm saying is, Dahlia is the original female lead because she REALLY fits the whole White Lotus trope, and I'm thinking Klavier is the original male lead because A) hilarious, B) fits in with the idea there's more going on in the ACTUAL world Apollo ends up in that is written in such a way as to make things seem different in the novel (like, that Dahlia and Klavier are actually as nice as they seem and that the terrible things that happen around them are just the trials and tribulations of being main characters and not anything they're directly involved in). And Apollo, the character in the novel Apollo, is an adopted prince of Khura'in, but he's the sickly younger prince and of course not actually of the royal bloodline (and also a man, considering Khura'in is matrilineal), so Rayfa and Nahyuta are the ones the public and other nobles actually know and care about and deal with. But wait! As it so turns out, The Wright Anything Information Guild (I feel like the actual guild name CAN'T have their freaking name on it front and center lol but you get the idea) happens to know some other things that aren't really expanded on in the original novel, and might be key to preventing Apollo's death so he doesn't follow the path of the original story, and also idk maybe Apollo and Trucy are half-fae or something like that and instead of like Aw Yay Bracelet in this AU it's more of a secret Iron Shackle Tool That Will Hurt I Mean Totally-Definitely-Help Us Later (still, in a way, passed down to him by Thalassa, but more as, like... she's kind of a secret hostage and does not manage to hide pregnancy number one so Apollo's now also a secret hostage, but she manages to escape so they don't know about Trucy, only she didn't tell Apollo basically anything to "keep him as safe as possible" or w/e, and......) Well, anyway. It got away from me before I even really wrote anything, that's all.

15. Secretly Alien - unfinished (currently 2.6k WIP)

Trucy POV, gen. Apollo gets sick of very consistently always losing the card games they play at the Wright Anything Agency (usually and in the specific instance the fic starts, Bullshit/BS) and in a stroke of inspiration somehow ropes everyone into playing Among Us instead. ("What! It's still a game of trying to lie/trick everyone else--like you like!--but I actually stand a freaking chance, so we're playing this or I'm going home.") Yes. This is my Among Us AU. Hi. They play Among Us. I'm justifying this one as prime AU territory however because A) Among Us has to exist in this universe, and even more pressingly, B) I found a way to force Phoenix to have--for at least a period of time if not moving forward in perpetuity--an actual smartphone instead of a Nokia-type brick cellphone. Which even under the wild but somehow plausible considering Ace Attorney circumstances I contrived, is just automatically a complete AU lmao. Fun Fact: I am so mad this one wasn't just totally finished day-of, lol. Why I ever thought I could give myself run of an entire WAA 4-person conversation and NOT get instantly derailed is beyond me. (And I want to get the prosecutors there, too?? Someone take the characters away from me.) Anyway. No, I have not written ANY of the actual Among Us part yet. Sigh. Also I haven't personally played amogus since like, 2021? maybe? And I know (now) that it's been pretty updated since then, but, ehhh, I'm just gonna run off like, lockdown-era amogus rules and vibes, lol. If I can get to the game part.

16 - Hobby Drama - conceptualized

I'm going to go out of order this time to say: Fun Fact: I have ALWAYS wanted to write a Reddit-style fic!!! I absolutely love them and I've read some REALLY, really good ones, so I've always wanted to try my hand at it. So theoretically this is the perfect time to make that a reality and write a r/HobbyDrama subreddit fic, buuut I got stuck before starting because I'm torn on two possible routes to take it (I can easily foresee myself caving and just doing both lol). - Option 1: Steel Samurai fandom discourse, always a fun/funny thing to think about, definitely would enjoy having Maya and Miles post some stuff for that. - Option 2: courtroom law fandom discourse, because come ON, how are those galleries ALWAYS SO FULL. The little wiggling rabba-rabba onlookers have GOT to have investment in this shit. And why WOULDN'T they, honestly. I've seen those trials and I have, in fact, spent a Lot of time thinking about them, not that any posts I've made lately would reflect that in any way or anything. Like I know it's hard to tell, but if I can be invested in the Lawyers Fandom, who's to say the people in the courtrooms aren't????? And I LOVE an outsider POV fic actually, I think they're so fun. So anyway. Reddit fic. You will be mine. Just as soon as I can hone my energy

And, what the hell, since it's so late now by the time I complete this "Heh This'll Be So Quick To Throw Together" post, I'll include today's, too:

17 - Flower Shop - conceptualized (at work earlier today. lol)

AU where Daddy Hawthorne is like, 97% less shitty. And the Hawthornes have a flower shop instead of like a gemstone industry or whatever. And he takes both Dahlia and Iris with him instead of dumping one of his daughters at a fucking secluded mountain temple and seemingly forgetting about her forever. On second thought, maybe what I actually mean is he's like 999% less shitty, lmfao. Anyway, Iris POV, but Dahlia (while not a "nice" person by any stretch) is not pushed to such extremes or nearly as desperate as canon, so Valerie lives, Terry Fawles lives, Doug Swallow lives, and Dahlia gets to live a good life overall--because as much fun as I love using her as a villain, she's really such a product of the absolute worst circumstances and I really do find her interesting so I've been kind of wanting to explore her in a less cartoonishly evil light, haha. (Don't get me wrong, I do love the cartoonishly evil light too, but I like spicing things up sometimes.) Like, she does (more) normal teen rebellion things ("Look at my inappropriately older boyfriend, Dad" "I'm going to talk my way out of speeding tickets and petty shoplifting as a bid for attention" etc.) and she still totally orders Iris around and Iris still totally does whatever she asks very much to her own detriment and has to learn to break away and be her own person. Fun Fact: I have a very passionate love for Iris/Adrian Andrews. Is that. Um. Is that a ship anyone else has ever considered before? Is that just me? I'm not sure but very possibly I'll just make this a rarepair fic as a treat, for me alone, teehee. (Like... it's about the becoming the master of your own destiny it's about breaking out of codependent cycles it's about how I genuinely honestly think they'd be each other's type and have chemistry even though they've obviously never interacted lmao... idk what to tell you.)

AND THATS MY AU-GUST UPDATE POST!!!

If you made it this far, take a sprinkle of my undying affection, and may you be blessed with AU inspiration if you so desire it!! (If you do not desire it, hopefully you are not cursed with it. I do not take refunds if you are. Sorry.)

Wish me luck with completing some more fics soon!!! Unfortunately weekends are actually my least free time because I work the most and the earliest hours so I have less time and am more tired, but also on Wednesday I'm leaving for a family vacation, which will either be the BEST thing to happen in regards to AU-gust or the WORST thing lmfao. If nothing else I have 2 flights, and I actually Love writing on an airplane, so fingers crossed for it being Good. <3

EDIT: Now with part 2 for the rest of the month here!

#au gust 2024 #au gust #ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #OH this post is so long. i did not. mean for that to happen. but i had fun with it and now I've got all my ideas in one place! yay #i kind of feel bad about clogging the tags though so idk what even TO tag lol #wrightworth #narumitsu #lanamia #gumbyrde #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #mia fey #lana skye #larry butz #maya fey #dick gumshoe #maggey byrde #apollo justice #trucy wright #FUCK IT WE BALL im just tagging it all. i put enough time into this to justify clogging tags lol #i typed wrightworth so many times here despite liking narumitsu aesthetically more but in technicality im definitely #writing the localization characters and not naruhodou and mitsurugi.... so. meh. I'll survive lol #aaau-gust 2024 #welcome to my patt ttalk #patt's prattle #idk why i have so many ramble tags when i am so bad about using this blog haha #i feel like I'm forgetting smth but if i am I'll get back to it later #I'll be posting everything else to the same ao3 series!! if you want me to ramble forever more about any of these literally #i will do it at the drop of a hat this is my entire personality lately lol. minimally ask me and I'll write you an essay

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thomaskong · 3 months ago

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Sometimes timing works out well and u get the opportunity to see an actor you love perform in an incredible play (twice!) 🥹

Now I already knew I’d be going to Korea sometime in the latter part of the year, so the announcement that Taevin would be doing Angels in America was just perfect. I decided to go to the show on the 25th and closing night on the 27th because who wouldn’t want to see Taevin twice AND it meant I could see both Prior actors! Most of the cast both nights were pretty similar, but Harper, Joe, and Roy’s actors were also different

Taevin is truly incredible. I had mixed… negative feelings about Louis while reading the play but god Taevin can ACT!! Both Seungho and Hojun were also fantastic as Prior (I think I liked Hojun’s performance a bit more hehe) and despite not knowing much Korean I enjoyed every second (I do wonder if I was the only international person who got to see the play from as far out as I was lol)

Some mixed moments I loved/thoughts from the two shows:

after kissing Harper in one scene, Joe (Yang Jiwon) wiped his mouth. He didn’t do it at the second show and I wonder if it was intentional or improv by Jiwon in the first show (but it made perfect sense)

in the second show Prior (Seungho) pulled towels from the other side of the stage (aka another set lmao) to give to Harper to wipe her tears during the joint dream sequence. Hojun didn’t do that in the first show so I wasn’t expecting that and I don’t think anyone else was cuz everyone in the audience laughed djskjdk

as I said before idk much Korean BUT I did read the play as well as watched a filmed performance before which was essential before seeing it in a different language lol. For the second night’s performance I felt like I was catching more than the first time I saw it which was cool!

speaking of things I caught more… for some reason I heard “dyke” pronounced more clearly from Seungho and it was very entertaining to hear Roy’s actor constantly say “Jesus fucking Christ” in English so I guess they stuck w the English equivalents sometimes loooll

THE GHOSTS OF PRIOR WALTER WERE SOOO FUNNY. ESPECIALLY IN THE FIRST SHOW. they were kind of interacting w the audience??? And running around and being so sillay idk I loved it I was laughing a lot

Louis’ stupid rant to Belize was so entertaining. He just won’t stfu and Belize has had ENOUGH. I’m not sure about every version of angels, but for this they had Louis walk to a separate part of the stage and bring back chairs and then drinks which made the length of that scene get even longer and funnier. It was a lot of dialogue and both Taevin & Tae Hangho delivered so well. The only thing I’m curious about is if they altered any dialogue around Belize’s character being Black, considering Hangho is not

THAT scene. THE BREAKUP. IF YOU LIKE THE PLAY YOU KNOW THE ONE. oh my GOD it was incredible. I love the motion and the way all the characters are in conversation with each other it’s just so fucking awesome

THE WAY THE ANGEL BURSTS IN AT THE END!!! The lighting is so cool especially with the set design. Lots of flashing lights at different angles and colors creating different effects against the industrial background. What a way to end the play I wish it was 8 hours long and they DID do Perestroika bc I need to see the rest!!!

Finally, I’ll end with a little beyond-bucket-list experience I had… which was that Taevin signed my ticket 🥹🥹🥹 I won’t include a photo bc there’s too much personal info, but he very kindly asked how to spell my name in English seeing that I wasn’t Korean lol. He didn’t sign anything on closing night either so I was truly very lucky on the 25th🥹 honestly, I was just expecting to see the play but greeting the cast (more of them came out on closing night!) and even getting an autograph made it even more special hehe

The whole cast was incredible, I’ll remember these two performances for the rest of my life <3

#I still can’t believe I got to see this aaaahhh #I hope somehow they filmed it and will release it for everyone to see bc it was genuinely so amazing #also… TAEVINNNN HE REALLY SIGNED MY TICKET SND TALKED TO ME AND AHAJUEJDJSJ OMFG.#this man has acted in TWO very meaningful pieces of work to me… just all around an unforgettable experience omfg #angels in america #lee taevin #son ho jun #yoo seungho #b.txt

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thepringlesofblood · 8 months ago

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bonus content for those who read the taz: the 11th hour graphic novel and haven’t listened to the podcast arc

disclaimer: so. I lost my book about 1/4 of the way into this post. so the rest of it is just from memory (I did finish reading it several times, I just no longer have it to refer to). I wanted to post this before the next one comes out though, so here we are. If I find my book, I will attempt to finish up the details for the rest of the book. I cover some basic big things from memory, but nowhere near as detailed as the stuff I wrote down when I had the book to refer to. but in the meantime...let’s go!

by god they’ve done it again. 11th hr is a Lot and definitely the most plot-heavy book so far, PLUS they had to include the first lunar interlude where the boys had individual scenes. the result is frankly beautiful. we’re really hitting critical mass now.

as a result a lot more stuff got compressed, cut, changed, or skipped. i’m going to try to at least point out each difference, though there’s no way I could summarize EVERYTHING that got cut in one post. I’m going to be linking relevant episodes (& transcripts thank u tazscripts) instead, for things that are Just Too Much to include.

as always, this post is intended to be Fun and Cool Bonus Content for people who haven’t listened to the podcast, not a manifesto of stuff they “should have” included or a list of flaws. they had 11+ hours of content to squish into one graphic novel, that happened over a period of months. of course stuff got cut. and it’s stuff that was recorded in 2016. that’s eight years ago. of course some things are going to change.

tl;dr - I liked the dang book. you can be sad something wasn’t in the novel while still understanding why it isn’t. here is a list of the stuff that was changed, skipped, compressed, or cut, presented as cool facts & extra info for gn fans who haven’t listened to the podcast.

spoilers ahoy for the 11th hour, but I’ll try to keep spoilers for the rest of the series to a minimum or at least mark them clearly. At the very end I’m going to put a section of series-spoiler theories and observations, very clearly marked

Before getting into the nitty-gritty, there are a few MAJOR changes from the podcast I want to get out of the way first. This list also includes “stuff I remember but don’t have the book to refer back to on”

Several characters and a whole section of the map were cut.

I think this is the first time that any named, plot-relevant characters have been completely cut. The closest we’ve come so far was the bugbears, but they at least had a cameo in the photo in Lucas’ quarters. Luca, Redmond, and Stonefruit Farms fully don’t exist in the GN series.

the boys meet Redmond in ep 46, pt 6 of the 11th hr arc, having met his brother Luca at the end of the previous episode.

long story short, Redmond was the leader of the purple-kerchiefed ruffians and the brains behind the bank robbery, which The Boys had to go through with so that Redmond would help his lowkey-estranged brother Luca raise the temple of Istus from its decrepit state, as they were both devout priests of Istus. The whole key being in the vault thing is GN-only.

Also, Luca is a skeleton bc he was in the temple when it got rapidly old-ified, but dw he’s fine he’s just a skeleton. he gets better.

Redmond’s motivation for robbing the bank is that as a priest of Istus, lady of fate, he follows his gut feelings and intuition, and he had a strong feeling that whatever was in the vault would be the key to taking down the bubble.

they basically took all of the plot-necessary elements from Luca & Redmond and gave them to Ren. In the podcast, Ren actually blasts some of the purple-kerchiefed ruffians out of her bar after they get too rowdy. She isn’t involved with the robbery in the slightest.

Merle’s Temporal Chalice scene

in the podcast, it’s his arm being chopped off. or more specifically, grabbing a crystal that exploded and made him have to get his arm chopped off.

Him running out on his kids is played kind of for laughs at first in the podcast. Merle is a heel for a lot longer there, bc the funniest improv is usually not the most ethical improv. They do talk about his life and the fact that he has a family, but the offer made by the chalice is for him to have his arm back

frankly, I think they made the right move in the GN. We get very little of Hecuba in the podcast, and I really liked seeing more of that conflict.

Roswell, my beloved

so, in 2016 when they did the podcast, the McElroys were at, let’s say a different place in their journey of learning about the queer community. which is to say that in the podcast Roswell’s pronouns were wildly inconsistent, in part due to them being a clay construct, in part due to them not being introduced with any pronoun in particular [though Griffin clarifies that he intends for Roswell to use they/them a little later on in the arc], and in part bc the boys just weren’t really familiar with the singular they. they tended vacillate between they/them, it/its, and he/him. we all learn and grow.

in the book, thankfully, Roswell is 100% they/them. fuck yeah. related. The Boys are significantly worse people to Roswell in the podcast. like, significantly. we’ll get into it as it comes up more, I just want to signpost it here.

e.g. Taako giving Roswell control of themselves and their command word is a GN original, in the podcast The Boys kind of “junebug” them around for large swaths of the last few episodes. also, a significant number of earlier loops involve them basically negging Roswell into believing that Isaak hired outside help (The Boys) with security bc they weren’t cutting it anymore (rude). I much prefer the geologists gambit they go with in the GN.

Diamonds

Paloma’s prophecies cost money in the podcast, so a lot of The Boys’ shenanigans (and a significant number of loops) are in pursuit of getting cash. which, in Refuge, is diamonds. Some examples:

Before figuring out that you can’t take objects with you, the boys do straight up take some diamonds from the bank post-robbery.

Taako gets Ren and a patron of her bar, Ash, to sign up and pay for a seminar/magic lesson he’ll be giving tomorrow (one of my all-time fav scenes). This leads to a touching scene at the end when the bubble finally comes down where Taako gives Ren a little certificate that says “first graduate of Taako’s Amazing School of Magic.”

Magnus tries to armwrestle a guy for cash (Merle’s idea), and though he rolls a 27 Strength check, the Goliath barbarian he’s rolling against gets a 28.

Paloma offers 1 diamond for a small prophecy, 10 for a big one. in the GN they aren’t differentiated, and one small prophecy just doesn’t show up as it’s not needed.

the taz fandom wiki has a handy list of all the prophecies she gives in the podcast

ok! let’s go!

Prologue (the bit before ch 1)

this isn’t in the 11th hour podcast.

the information we get about The Visitor in the 11th hour (from The Boys asking various Refuge residents) is that

Jack and June brought them to Refuge

or, they brought Jack and June to Refuge. We hear both things at different times.

they’re depicted in the statue as having a Red Robe and being kinda broad-shouldered.

Roswell never met them. At first they refer to The Visitor with he/him pronouns, but then mention “I say ‘he’, I didn’t know them”

they tended to keep their face hidden (maybe?)

that’s pretty much it

we learn about this interaction much much much much much later in the podcast, not as a scene that is played out, but abstractly as an event that happened, after we find out who The Visitor is.

that said, I LOVE this scene’s inclusion and expansion. it makes total sense to me.

Jack is never described as having a sketchbook or being an artist. this will come back later.

the final scene of the arc in the podcast is instead June giving Magnus some previous designs for the statue of Jack, June, & a Red Robe/The Visitor in the middle of town, with a version where the hood of the robe is down and the face of the Red Robe/The Visitor is visible.

Ch. 1

this is where the podcast starts at episode 1 of the 11th hr.

boyland’s funeral is very accurate. his comically large family of 400 sons (mentioned in CK podcast) is why the Voidfish lights up like that.

the only real differences I could find were:

in the podcast what is erased is basically boyland’s personnel file. like, a report or write-up of who he is and his work for the BoB. johann writing songs about boyland’s life is new.

the only pronouns ever used for the voidfish in the podcast are they/them, it/its, and occasionally he/him. past taz graphic novels have used they/them. on pg 13 of 11th hr, both Johann and Merle use she/her for the voidfish.

I do not like this, but I have a suspicion as to why, and I don’t like that either. see spoiler-y observations at the end for more.

they merged this scene with a scene from the skipped lunar interlude before CK, where The Boys take cpt. cpt. bane’s “file” to the voidfish to be eaten.

I described this in my other posts, but the two things relevant here are Magnus putting his hand up on the glass and vibing w the voidfish, and this exhange b/w Johann and The Boys:

Johann: When I, um, can I ask you guys a question?

Magnus: Sure.

Taako: Of course, Johann.

Johann: Are you guys really okay with, with this part of the deal?

Magnus: That we get forgot?

Taako: Which part?

Johann: Yeah, are you cool with like, if you beef it down there, the world just forgets about you?

Magnus: Well, I’m not planning on ever dying.

in the podcast, bc Avi isn’t there, Angus operates the cannons (Avi showed him how before he left). he is extremely nervous about it and about killing them on accident. once they’re in the orb taako casts stoneskin on himself “just in case”, but everything works out totally fine, though avi mentions when The Boys land that the stoneskin should’ve thrown off the trajectory.

the gn keeps the spirit of taako trusting no one without the angus psychological damage by having him just cast a better version of the spell angus cast, and I am a fan.

the leveling up stats aren’t right in the book, as I’m sure every dnd 5e nerd has already tweeted about.

they’re all level 10, so magnus should be a level 8 fighter and a level 2 rogue bc 2+8=10, while the other two boys are still just a level 10 cleric and a level 10 wizard bc they didn’t multiclass.

fantasy costco-wise: aside from the stuff they have in the book (all things they do own in the podcast, though hole-thrower and the feather-weight cuirass were from the fantasy gachapon), merle picks up matthias the living grimoire, magnus gets the magnetic charge and the tarantula bracelet, and taako gets the arcane trickster’s glove (no wiki page rip it just gives you some arcane trickster powers) and mockingbird gum.

they beat up the baby worms more before letting them go, it’s a full battle

Ch. 2

in the podcast, when they go through the barrier, they find themselves in an empty white space where they see an old woman holding the cup. she says “It’s you!” with recognition upon seeing them, and then says “find me” before they wake up.

important: every time the boys die in the podcast, they go back to this space briefly before waking up.

sometimes the woman gives a cryptic message, sometimes not, and in their later loops, the woman collapses, breathing heavily.

we find out in the end that this woman is June - she has a whole extended de-aging sequence later that they probably cut so poor Carey didn’t have to do a bajillion character models for June at different ages just for a few panels of dramatic effect.

pg 36 - to head off any dnd 5e nitpickers, Magnus does not have proficiency in rustic hospitality, since that’s not a skill. Magnus does have a character feat called “Rustic Hospitality” that he chose at level 1.

claiming to have proficiency in things you can’t possibly have proficiency in is a longstanding goof both in taz and among people who play dnd 5e in general, because it’s funny.

in the book, they intercut each loop with a scene from lunar interlude 3, and it works really really well. we’ll get to those scenes as they come up.

Is this the first time someone uses he/him for The Red Robe in the gn series? (Roswell says ‘his’)

in the podcast Roswell mentions having never met the visitor, and comments “I say “he”, but I don’t know.”

in the GN, when The Boys tell the director about The Red Robe in CK they use they/them pronouns and so does the director, but after this, even @ the end of the book after Taako guesses that The Red Robe they’ve been talking to isn’t the same Red Robe from Refuge, he and the other boys continue to use he/him for The Red Robe.

“Mystic Analysis”

he just did an arcana check in the podcast, I don’t think Taako had Identify as a spell, which is what the DND equivalent would be.

they also don’t figure out that Roswell has a command word until much later, during the Diary Of Sheriff Isaak scene.

Griffin basically says “[they’re] an earth elemental, with a bird on [them], and earth elementals don’t generally have birds on them, so maybe it was just nearby when the spell was cast and got caught up in it”

Cassidy

in the podcast, she’s in jail for blowing up the temple of Istus, which she didn’t do.

GN Ren mentions later on that the temple got “un-built” which references how in the podcast the temple suddenly aged a matter of centuries in seconds, so from the outside it looked kind of explode-y. and cassidy is known for blowing shit up, so she was blamed. she also theorizes that it might be racism due to her half-orc heritage.

in the GN, cassidy’s arrested for trespassing on the closed mines, which she absolutely has done. it makes more sense, and eliminates a major plot point they cut from the book

she is otherwise pretty much the same, I love her very much

Paloma pretty much stays in her cottage in the podcast rather than sneaking around.

the fantastic exchange of “you guys have been here 45 minutes, what the fuck did you bring with you?!” “you should see what we can do in an hour!” is 100% verbatim from the podcast.

in the podcast, Ren is dead the first bank fire (and in most subsequent bank fires). she also wasn’t one of the bandits, or involved with the bank robbery at all

in fact, in the loop where The Boys were doing the bank robbery, she unexpectedly came in, recognized Taako, and almost blew their cover.

With so little time left on the clock, Taako cast Banishment on her to keep her safe and out of the way, but she made her saving throw - so it didn’t work, but she knew Taako tried to cast some spell on her, and there was a somber moment of her falling backwards trying to get away from him, tears in her eyes.

look it’s a good lil character moment

I can’t emphasize enough how brutal the first description of the bank fire and subsequent world-ending is. Griffin pulled 0 punches.

Magnus rushes in and he describes the scene like “you see a guy, who looks like this. they’re dead. you see two guards. they’re dead. you see a woman holding a tray of diamonds. she’s dead. you see this person, also dead. you see a dwarven bank teller. she might be alive, but it’s hard to tell, and if she was she is on the brink of death”

I think the boys, brogden, and maybe one of the purple-kerchief ruffians (which is how they are described in the podcast) survived the first one, and everyone else died in that bank. it felt so brutal listening to it the first time because you (and the boys) didn’t know about the loop yet, so it was just. horrifying.

I love how they pulled in off in the GN!!! the clock hands are just *chef kiss*

just before Griffin describes the destruction of Refuge, Travis interjects, “Ditto, did you base this on Majora’s Mask?”

while Griffin does not respond in the moment, he later confirms that Travis is correct.

Griffin’s description of the fiery deaths of The Boys: “And you’re being crushed by the shattered earth as it compresses down into the ground. And you hear an anguished scream come from something massive and furious, and all three of you have died…And there’s something about the dying that feels familiar.”

“and then you wake up.” hardcut to end of episode music. v epic.

Ch. 3 (i s2g they’re not all going to be this detailed the major plot differences are mostly out of the way now)

as mentioned, the scenes between each loop in the gn happen in Lunar Interlude III (transcript) (episode) - each of The Boys got to choose a scene to have in between arcs and Justin chose to have Taako give Angus magic lessons.

they’re all more abstract in the eps (Taako establishes a recurring time and place to give Angus lessons, and we get scenes from earlier vs later lessons, various shenanigans, etc.) but the major points are actually pretty much the same, just condensed into one scene in the book.

also taako giving magic lessons in his quarters makes 100% sense, but in the podcast they did it in the cafeteria, and that’s where the LUP is burned into the wall. significant? potentially.

in the podcast angus had made some macarons for taako but forgot to flavor them (he nailed the texture though which is hard to do in a macaron) so he asked taako to prestidigitate them better and then scorching ray happened and blasted em to shreds.

LUP. dude. I thought it was an acronym when I first heard it, bc in the podcast, Griffin says “So your staff, you lost control of it and you blasted the letters “L-U-P” into the wall.” Seeing it in cursive, all gorgeous and capitalized like a proper noun? knocked me the fuck out.

another dnd 5e tiny detail: in the gn, the description for Angus’ first wand says “wonderful stocking stuffer for the young sorcerer in your life”

i could have a whole conspiracy board about this.

skip this if you’re not super into dnd 5e mechanics

the difference (in dnd 5e) b/w a wizard, a warlock, and a sorcerer is:

wizard: gets magic from study and practice - taako is a wizard bc he studied spellcraft and learned how to do it.

warlock: gets magic from making a deal with something/someone far more magical than themselves - garfield is a warlock, so his magic stems from a deal he made with something (the devil??)

sorcerer: has innate magic within them.

this could come from a myriad of places, but usually from heritage or bloodline - maybe your great-grandfather was a god or a dragon or a demon or a djinn or something, or maybe your mom touched a weird rock as a kid and got magic powers that she passed onto you when she had you.

in the podcast, angus is only ever referred to as a wizard. makes sense - regular boy + magic training from taako = wizard boy.

but if he’s a sorcerer, the magic really was in him all along. is taako teaching him to channel it? does he know?

this also fits with a weirdly popular headcanon the taz community had for a while about angus secretly being a silver dragon (in dnd, color = different abilities, diff personality, etc, and silver ones like to shapeshift and pretend to be humans sometimes).

“draconic bloodline” is one of the most common sorcerer backgrounds - it basically just means ‘a dragon got involved at some point in this family tree, so now you can cast ray of frost’.

hmmmmmmm

end conspiracy theory

It is at this point that I lost my damn book. so. I’m just gonna post this bc the next graphic novel is coming out soon and I want to post it before then. If i find my book I’ll finish it up. If you have post-chapter 3 differences you noticed that aren’t already covered, feel free to reply/reblog with them!

Spoiler-y Observations Below!

CAUTION: contains spoilers for the rest of taz balance!

*voidfish speculation: my suspicion is that they’re using ‘she’ for the voidfish to foreshadow that they have a baby, so that makes them a “mother”? i call bullshit, but i’ve heard it used before as a justification for misgendering an enby who gives birth. obvs the voidfish is not a human being, people can have multiple pronouns, it’s not a 1:1 comparison, but i for one (as an enby myself) really liked the voidfish using they/them and feel oddly betrayed at them suddenly changing the pronouns. fingers crossed that there’s a different reason.

"what am statue” is low-key foreshadowing since magnus says it

merle knowing what relativistic time dilation is

LUP was burnt into the wall in the cafeteria in the podcast - lucretia would’ve seen it for sure. so they put it in taako’s room this time...

aw no ‘sorry about the cookies little man’

In 5 or however many years when gn series ends, someone should do a poll of people who only read the graphic novels and see if any of them pronounce “Lup” weird since they’ve only ever seen it written down.

hero wreathed in flames 0.0 I hope Joaquin is still there in the finale but I like the duality here

BATTLEAXEPROFICIENCYEASTEREGG

SNEAK PEEK AT THE HUNGER SNEAK PEEK AT THE STARBLASTER AAAAAAAA

257 - ‘I know him better than you could ever imagine’ because he created you? Oof ouch ow my bones. also....the magnus that made the cup was a very different person from magnus now. it’s not what Julia would want - the cup never met julia, obvs, and does not know the ways she changed him for the better.

Bottom of 327 - sweet Angus boy are you drawing something on that orb?

Istus is like you’ve been serving me your whole lives without knowing it in the podcast - maybe a bit too much foreshadowing for the GN

#dnd #taz #taz gn #taz graphic novel #the adventure zone #taz b #taz balance #taz b spoilers #taz balance spoilers #original post #ongoing

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