#i really hope they just let me watch decay for eternity

[babayaganoush]

To be a specter

Watching the rot left behind

A whimsical wisp

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Fun little Radiodust idea

For Sinsmas, normally something the Hellborn celebrate and not so much Sinners because the passing of eternity could get monotonous or distressing depending on where you landed in the afterlife...

Charlie, who Very Much has always celebrated it, decides that everyone should do a gift exchange!

To avoid everyone rushing out for multiple gifts, she chooses to have people draw names from a hat and made it clear that she would really hope that everyone tried their best to find or make something for their intended giftee that they actually thought the other would like.

'So', she cautions, 'that means nobody goes handing around anything that might be upsetting or tempt people to regress on their progress, or... uh, well...'

'Don't bring anything dead, decaying or dying.' Vaggie finishes, staring right at the oh so innocent Niffty/Alastor combo at the end of a nearby couch. Niffty pouts immediately and crosses her arms, sitting harshly on Alastor's lap.

"Come now Niffty, I am certain you can find a non-bug related item to provide your giftee in this..." the man can barely contain his derisive chuckle, but he clearly makes an attempt here even if only to show 'support' while the King is here. '...oh so charming little activity of dear Charlotte's, hmm? Why, you're a dab hand at sewing, remember? Why not make them a poppet of someone your giftee wants to torture? That could be QUITE the gift!"

"NO! NOPE! Noooooooooooooo not that, uh, please." Charlie interjects, not liking the excited sparkle thrumming through Niffty's eye. It dies immediately, and the little Sinner huffs in a way that pulls at several heartstrings.

"Fine."

"...maybe you can give us a list of ideas, princess?" Husk interjects, uncharacteristically, watching Niffty's fit of pique with a frown. "Avoid things getting..." he waves his hand around the room at various sinners. Explicit? Violent? Bloody? Uncomfortable? It encompasses them all.

"Oh, that's a great i-de-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Charlie squeal-sings, and Vaggie barely has time to brace before a full song about the dos and don't of gifting is shared to the captive audience. Lucifer excitedly (and Vaggie reluctantly) join in after the first verse, enthusiastic about sharing a fun holiday with the others.

Husker was generally unimpressed, but enjoying the way that everpresent grin drooped on boss's face as he was bombarded by merriment.

"...and that's how to share the joy of Sinsmas!" crashes the final line as confetti seemingly bursts from a number of locations, including mid-air, and coats them all.

Niffty immediately launching around to skewer pieces individually on her needles and gather them into her apron pocket. It has to have some sort of pocket dimension or something in there, or it would be overflowing by now.

"Oh, we made a uh, a mess Char-Char, let me just-..." Lucifer starts, raising his fingers to snap it away, before snarling as they are ensnared in a red tipped hand.

"Majesty, would you mind leaving it this once? It brings her joy to clean up intricate messes." Alastor says, not even attempting to antagonise the King, and it seemed the fact that it was a genuine request, that stopped Lucifer from setting the Sinner on fire.

Angel Dust, half-awake, couldn't help but grin as he saw the slight softening to that sharp grin and those blood-red eyes as they followed Niffty's frenetic movements across the room. He liked the tiny dame, of course, and sometimes it was nice to see that she had others in her corner... can't be easy being so small in a place like Hell.

Not that he ain't dead certain Smiles or Husk would eviscerate anyone who tried something with Niffty, if she didn't tear them apart first. Angel knew that she'd stopped more than a few Exorcists from getting a bead on him in that last extermination. Always someone thinking they could end one last sinner before they died; well, jokes on them, 'cause Angel was still here and Cannibal Town was hostin' a big angel wing bbq soon. So, Hell 1: Heaven 0.

The little dragon thing that followed Charlie everywhere, Razzle he thinks, hovers nearby and hands over a slip of paper. Well, okay then.

Hmmm, fuck... what do you even get the King'a Hell? The man can straight up snap anything he wanted into existence, right? He sizes the guy up, wondering if a coupon for one night with The Angel Dust would be good enough for his Majesty... and then has a momentary moment of panic wondering if he would even be good enough for an ex-angel. Which was stupid because really, he was amazing and could fake it anyway anyone wanted... but, could he compare to the Queen?

Nah, okay, what if he got the guy like... something a little fun and discreet? One of Lust's toys. Angel had connections, after all, and it's not like someone could order the Tentacular Spectacular 4.3 with vibrating actions under 'Lucifer', or to the Palace, without at least one of the succubi getting nosy. Heh, or that Sin guy, Asmodeus...

Using his tertiary eyes to check about the room, it took little deduction to work out who had who.

Husk was drinking out of a bottle but subtly using the motion to side-eye Vaggie, clearly wondering what he could even offer the ex-orcist. The lilac woman looking tense as she gazed over at Niffty, a thousand yard stare building as she imagined the bloody things she might have to provide.

Lucifer looked like he'd won the jackpot, and also like a man on the verge of a panic attack. So, he's just guessing but... the guy probably got Charlie.

The Princess was still smiling but appeared uncertain as she looked at her paper, eyes flickering to Alastor and back to the paper. Alright then, she's stumped but doesn't want to say anything because it might hurt the Strawberry Pimp's feelings. Angel's pretty sure the guy ain't gottem to start with...

Well, no, that wasn't right. More like, Smiles tried real hard to pretend he didn't, but they were there. If the overlord felt like breaking into acting, or Angel's kind of Acting, he might just be a natural given how well he plastered over his real feelings all the time. But when your life depnded on watching for the small tells in your bigger, more powerful opponent or scene partner to work out how to get away without too many bruises... you noticed this sort of shit.

There was a brief moment of considering what the Radio Demon would look like on one of Val's sets, before he physically shook the thought out, perturbed. For one, that was kinda hot... and on the other hand, really disturbing... might save that for later, though.

Anyways, he can't really tell what Al was thinking, he wasn't really looking at anyone specific. Maybe he hadn't bothered to look at his paper yet?

Niffty's sudden burst of near hysterical laughter sent chills up his spine, as she sat on Husk's lap, petting him excitedly. If she wasn't careful, Niffty was going to build up a sharp little shock of static.

In anycase, based on the whole... everything, it was clear that the maid had received the bartender. Good Luck to Husk on that front, because it was going to be freaky whatever she did.

She bounced on Husk's overly-patient leg once more before crawling across the room to climb atop Al's head, whispering directly into his hair tuft... wait, was that an ear? Had Angel not realised those were fuckin' fluffy goddamn ears this whole time?

Unholy shit, they were! The one Niffty giggled into twitched!

That was fuckin' adorable, that's what that was!

"Of course, my deer, as you wish." Alastor grinned, a flash of radio dial eyes as his stitches flared, manifesting a spool of fine green thread for the maid. "I'm certain that whatever you deem necessary will be fine."

Husk suddenly looked exceptionally nervous.

"Alright then, remember, you have the next few days to find or make something for your giftee and we'll hand them out out on Sinsmas. If anyone gets reaaaaaally stuck, let me or Vaggie know, okay? We can brainstorm together!" Charlie enthuses, injecting false cheer through the room.

Vaggie narrows her eye. "And again, nothing fucked up... or fuckable." The last nnit was aimed right at Angel, who good-naturedly rolled his eyes, struck a pose and purred at her.

"Aw baby, you know you want all this... I'll even give ya a discount coupon for Sinsmas, if ya want..."

"I can't. I just... can't." Vaggie growls, storming out. Under that swathe of hair, she's trying so hard not to grin at their banter. Took a whole ass extermination to find their dynamic, but the pair had manged to act like bickering siblings.

As Alastor dissolved into shadows, Lucifer poofed into red sparkles, and Husk sauntered back to the bar with a contemplative expression on his face, Angel approached Charlie.

"Heya toots, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Oh, Angel... are you okay? If you're stuck, I can give you a hand to-..."

"Oh, I'd love ya to-... wait, sorry, that one just came out. The wordplay was Right There, but it's not what I wanted to say." he halts himself, seeing her good natured grin grow strained at the innunedo. "I was gonna say, that I wanted to trade names with you."

"Is there... something wrong with who you got? Oh gosh, I forgot to check if anyone had anybody they didn't feel comfortable gifting! Oh noooooo..." it trails off in a soft moan of self-disgust as the Princess tugs her own hair. Angel immediately puts a stop to that mess by gently untangling her hands and taking them in his own primary pair.

"Nah, it ain't like that. It's just... I worked out who you got, and that you're kinda not sure how to go about gifting the guy, which is fine he's hard to read. But, I pulled your Dad..." he pauses, seeing her brace, "which ain't an innuendo, promise. Although..." he waggles his eyebrows so ludicrously she can't help but burst into laughter.

"Right? So anyways, I think that given how hard the Short King has been trying to show you he cares for ya, then perhaps it might be the best Sinsmas gift of all if maybe you surprised him with something. He fought adam and fixed the hotel, all because he wants to see you happy, Toots, that's the kind of dad any of us here in the pit would've killed for... and let's be real, he's a mess. The guy is the most powerful thing around here and he's terrified to even put a frown on your face," Angel's grin is soft and knowing. "So like I said, maybe you take my slip and I take yours, and you give your old man a big surprise he ain't expecting."

There's a pause as Charlie grabs him for a bone-crunching hug.

"Please don't say the thing you're thinking right now..." Charlie whispers in his ear.

"Oh Charlie," he whispers back, squeezing her tight. "You know I can't help myself. Cause if you say no I'm gonna give him my Big Surprise on Smismas eve... you guys don't do the mistletoe thing do you? Cause I can find some places to hang it that- oof!"

Laughing, the Princess had playfully hurled him across the room onto the sofa. Giggling through an admonishment about Never Saying that about her dad again.

"Okay, okay, stop waggling your eyebrows like that, I can't breathe!" she wheezes, holding out her giftee slip to transfer it to Angel. Looking up at the now furiously waggling eyebrows before losing it again, and having to sit down, turning bright pink with glee.

It makes Angel nostalgic, with a sudden pang, for his twin sister and the hours they'd spent making terrible jokes and puns up just to send the other into fits of laughter. Ending up messy with happy tears as they wheezed for breath.

He glances down to the slip in his hand.

Okay then, Smiles... what can I get you that you ain't got already?

----------

It took a few days of persistent observation to find something he could use. Angel was really starting to think about using a handmade One Night Deluxe Package coupon for his services, before he noticed a few little peculiarities that he might be able to make work.

The most obvious one was that the Radio Demon enjoyed cooking.

It became apparent how many of the more elaborate dinners that the hotel residents had were actually secretly made by Alastor. Or at least, under his direction.

Huh. How hadn't he cottoned on to that little number before? Maybe because he was always crawling through the door at who the fuck knows what hour and heading for the bar, where Husk'd have something set out for him if it was too late for the cat.

Soemtimes it was a shot of something strong, a bottle of water and a sandwich; other times he find a brief note about something in the fridge they'd saved for him. Always felt good to be wanted somewhere, you know?

No matter what Val did to him or had done to Angel, he could at least think about the fact that someone was waiting for him. Someone cared that he came 'home' of an evening... and that, if he needed it, he could have help from almost anyone in the weird fucked up little family at the hotel.

If he yelled, or smashed a glass, someone would be there to check in.

Niffty was always in the walls somewhere, and Spooky Lite (Alastor's Shade) tended to wander around the foyer at night when he was returning, keeping an eye on the place Angel assumed. Husk sometimes fell asleep at the bar waiting on him to get back...

And he knew sometimes Vaggie had to sit on Charlie to stop the bleeding heart of hers from keeping her rigidly upright in a chair in the foyer all night until Angel returned. It was... pretty awesome, really.

Actually, his mind skipped back to Spooky Lite, and he wondered how it was always around about that time. Until the night before when Angel had slipped into his room with the thing following, and then crept back out, to find that Alastor had materialised in the kitchen for some late-night cooking.

Music threading out quietly as dishes were done by overenthusiastic moppets. At one point, he'd seen Niffty come in, stumbling and shaken, only to be picked up wordlessly and curled into one of Alastor's arms as the music lulled her back to sleep. Poppets returning her to her room when he was certain she was deeply settled once more.

There was a pained, pinched expression on the Radio Demon's face as he watched Niffty go. It sent a shock through Angel, and he's not sure how to describe it, not really. Just, an awareness of real emotion, even behind the too-bright smile that never seemed to stop.

If the guy even could drop it, which Angel wasn't so sure given those stitches he'd seen, or maybe Al was just real committed to the bit. But the eyes said more than the mouth ever could.

The next morning, Charlie had found a well-cooked and marinated meal in the fridge with instructions on reheating. Vaggie was loudly sceptical about the origins of the meat, but Husk took a bite and said it was beef (or the closest Hell equivalent) not Sinner.

Vaggie side-eyed Husk for the rest of the day after that one. The bartender shrugging. "You could try it, what's the worst that could happen? We're already in hell."

She'd rolled her eye.

Behind all the dramatics around him, Angel was forming a plan that he hoped might lead to the best possible gift for the picky red Overlord. He had an idea, but... really hoped it wouldn't be seen as trying to scrimp on gifts.

Although, perhaps if the Overlord could scent the amount of fuckin' blood drops this thing was costing him, that alone would be enough of a gift. He swore so frequently while reusing old skills with new limbs, that Husk came in to check on him... and put a pair of ear mufflers on Fat Nuggets.

Hells, he was even taking to doing the needlework between shifts at the studio. What else was there to do when the scenes were hours apart, and Val was busy fucking another ten people in some side room somewhere, after all?

Just hoped it came together in time.

----

Talk about a fucking buzzer beater.

Angel's fingers were stiffer than that time he shot that bukkake gangbang film with those echidna and shark-based sinners. Lotta cocks in that film and Val wanted it all in one take.

He'd needed a scalding shower and several massages to get his hands settled again after that little lot. Vaggie had helpfully hosed him off out front with a minimally disgusted expression on her face, thankfully, that day.

"Happy Sinsmas everyone! Ooooh, I'm so pleased you all went out of your way to find a gift for your giftee!!!!" Charlie beamed, far too cheerful for 5am in the damned morning. However, she had woken them all with enthusiastic song, and well... when Charlie was Up the hotel was Up.

"Yaaay..." croaked a clearly half-awake Vaggie.

"It means so much to me that you're all here with us, celebrating like a real family this Sinsmas! I couldn't do this without you, any of you, so I hope you enjoy this part and then we'll get onto the Sinsmas breakfast, and the games, and watch some movies... or not... you don't have to Al. Promise!" Charlie adds, conceding as rather stilted static plays.

Alastor looks overtired, and clearly unimpressed at the early start to the day. Still, he pulls together some form of charade when the Princess glances at him and nods.

"So, how're we doing this Char-Char?" Lucifer asks, infuriatingly chipper as well. Ah, seems like the morning person power must be genetic... the lucky bastards.

"So, I was thinking we can all hand them out simultaneously to our giftee, so no one is trapped in the spotlight... if that's okay?"

"Sounds good to me." Husk shrugs and hauls himself off the couch, tail flicking as he moves to hand a pair of oddly shaped gifts to Vaggie. "Happy or Merry or whatever Sinsmas, chickadee, this one's for you. "

"Oh, uh, thanks Husk!" Vaggie says, taken aback by the gifts, and for a split second he wonders if exorcists were allowed to get gifts in Heaven, because she looks close to tears.

As Vaggie unwraps her gifts, Niffty tugs at the cat's claws, "Husk, I got you and I made you something! I-... I know I couldn't get anything as fancy as the things the others might have, but I made it special. Promise."

She bundles something into his arms that had been carefully wrapped in what appeared to be salvaged wallpaper from the previous hotel.

"Thanks Niff, appreciate it." Husk rumbles, moving back to the couch and pulling open the package with care and a small amount of trepidation. It very well might explode, after all.

"Oh, Niffty, before you run away, this is for you." Vaggie says, handing over a pretty box in a familiar dusk rose.

Niffty squealed and placed it on the ground, pulling it open with speed to reveal a brand new dress in a scintillating spill of red, white and yellow to match her favourite colours. There's even a petticoat.

"It's made by Overlord Rosie herself... she put a charm on the petticoat that'll keep it from getting any dirt on it, because I know you don't like that." Vaggie explained, not sure how to read the sudden statue Niffty's turned into... and then backing up as the maid begins to vibrate at great speed. She's slammed into by the maid, nearly being taken out at the knees with the force. "Ooof, I take that means you like it?"

"YES YES YES YES YES!"

"Cool, good, nice to know. There's one other thing but now I think about it, it's kind of silly..."

Niffty launches back to the box and reverently lifts out the second item. A feather duster with an extendable handle... made of Vaggie's discarded feathers. She screams in delight and launches over to pepper kiss on Vaggie's cheek, then hurls herself towards a cobweb on the ceiling.

"Nailed it, kid." Husk said, and Charlie's eyes are round and wet where they stare at Vaggie.

Blinking, the Exorcist realises she needs to open her own gifts, turning to do so. With care, she peels back the lavender wrapping to reveal a carefully framed and still covered in golden ichor... knife. An angelic blade, to be exact.

The one that killed Adam. Beside it, a smaller photo of Niffty plunging the dagger into the guy, clearly shot from HD drone footage, likely Voxtech. Her eye goes WIDE as she stares at the cat.

"How did-...? You-...! This is the best thing but how...?" she tries.

"I'd tell you, but I think Al will kill me if I mention what I had to trade for Vox to hand that picture over..." the bartender muttered. Vaggie glances at the Radio Demon, watching his ears twitch.

Angel cringes. Vox has it Down Bad, so whatever it took... was likely personal, like a bowtie or even a pair of panties. The sudden mental image of Al in fancy panties made him snort, and try to pass it off as a dry throat cough. Lucifer snaps him up a glass of water without even appearing to think about it.

"...Husker, if you did what I assume you did, then the idiot box is going to be Insufferable at the next Overlord meeting." Al sighs, dramatically.

"Sure, but on the other hand it's kinda funny when you think about how far he'll go just to pretend he could get your attention, right boss?" Husk counters, pulling out a crisp looking shirt and jacket combo from his own gift. Eyes going wide in surprise.

It was well-tailored, and if you looked at the right angle, there were impossibly small symbols adorning both garments. Sigils, familiar ones, that seemed to spell out some sort of protection...

"Niff, you made these on yer own?" the grizzled bartender huffs, genuinely touched. "That's amazing, is what it is."

"Well, Sir helped a little with some of the symbols, because I can't always get them to line up stright in my head... but we got the charm right!" Niffty said brightly, hovering over his shoulder. She just seemed to Appear in the most unnerving way. "Oooh, open the other bit!"

At first, Husk wasn't sure what he was looking at, until Angel Dust gasped and covered his grin with two hands. "No way."

"Niff, is this... Valnetino's collar fluff? The stuff you snagged at the club?"

"Yep, he was a not good bad boy and I didn't like him. I know you don't like him either, so you can have some of my trophy so we can not like him together!" She trills, delighted.

"Would it sweeten the pot if I told you it ain't grown back yet and he does this weird comb-over shit to hide the bald spot?" Angel Dust adds, not able to hold it in any longer.

Husk barks out a laugh, "Oh that's the best news I've had all day, Legs. Might get this framed, even. Put it over the bar so that nearsighted motherfucker can see it if he ever dares put a foot into this place... without one of us tearing it right off his body, that is."

Vaggie gasps in the background, opening her second gift, more cumbersome than the first. It's an ornate cherry-red picnic basket, with a red and yellow blanket atop, and clearly heavy with cutlery and crockery.

"You need to relax more, Vags... you and Charlie. That thing has a little zap from his Majesty that keeps anything inside at the right temperature, and stops it spoiling. You can go anywhere and it'll keep." Husk shrugs. Those two were wound so tight he was surprised neither had combusted yet... a prod in the right direction, from the friendly bartender, was hopefully the thing to change that.

Vaggie came over and awkwardly put her arms out, before deciding to just go for the hug. He grumbled, but allowed it for a few seconds before pulling back.

"O-Okay, who's next?" Vaggie stammers, turning to find that Lucifer and Charlie were in a world of their own.

Charlie was a sobbing mess of delight as she held a small dragon-duck-winged thing in a little dress. It was like, yet unlike, Razzle and Dazzle... same concept but more... duck. There was no better descriptor than that, really.

"Her name is Ella-Kazam, un-unless you wanted to make it something else... she's still new enough you can change it over." Lucifer shrugged, looking hopeful and awkward, stroking the creature's head as Razzle flew over to meet this new friend.

Not a replacement for Dazzle, never in a million aeons. but, a new friend and possibility.

"No, no she's perfect Dad!" Charlie sobs, rubbing her cheek against Ella-Kazam, and delighting in the squeaky quacks. She startles when the little protector drops a golden item in her palm. "Oh, what's this?"

"It's, um something I was holding onto for you until the right time..." Lucifer adds, wondering if perhaps he should have switched the order of the gifts.

Charlie rights the items, surveying the family crest on the necklace before something goes 'click' very quietly, opening to reveal it is a locket inside. Light rises up and shows a stately photos of the royal family, Charlie as a young child in their midst.

Charlie begins sobbing in delighted earnest, clearly frightening the king. Vaggie intervenes, having gotten quite good at this sort of thing. Alastor's shadow pokes at Lucifer's pocket until the ex-angel recalls that he has a handkerchief in there, which is swiftly offered to Charlie.

It takes several moments to settle the Princess, as she hands over a strangely wrapped thing, half as tall as the king and about the width of KeeKee. It has circus-themed wrapping paper, which he would assume was an insult from anyone else, but Charlie seems to be trembling with anxiety, as desperate for his approval as he was for hers.

The King of Hell cautiously opens the package, eyes widening to discover an ornate musical carousel inside, themed towards those at LuLu World. Small differently coloured and styled ducks took the spaces of the trasitional horses, and when he looked closer... he found himself, Charlie and Lillith were some of the riders.

"Oh Charlie, it's lovely, did you conjure this yourself...?"

"I... I had some help, I had an idea but I couldn't quite get it to do what I was hoping it would, so I asked... for assistance." She evades, pointing to two small toggles on the base of the carousel. "If you wind the key it will play until it's unwound itself, but if you click the yellow switch it will play on its own and-..."

She pauses as a different song begins, this one feels less tangible, and reaches inwards. Everyone in the room is flooded with a sense of overwhelming calm, of tranquility and safety as a pleasant memory is stirred from deep within and replayed against their mind's eye.

"...it will play a tune that brings up good memories, to help you sleep or feel better or... just make you happy." Charlie sighs softly. She then clicks that feature off and presses the Black switch.

Another not-sound fills the air, this one is like a hand reaching out to someone in the ocean, a spool of thread that leads out of a maze, a feeling of being found and drawn out of somewhere deep.

"And this one is to help when you get lost in your head or whatever you want to call it. It's a homing beacon. It took a few days to work out how to make it work, but Al helped me... he twisted some of the radiowaves and made them do... that." Charlie explained. She then paused to ad, "It can read your emotions... the switches are able to turn on by themselves if they sense someone needs it."

"Char-Char, this is amazing, honey. How did I ever make such a wonderful, thoughtful child?" Lucifer smiles, glowing with pride at his daughter, eyes filled with delighted tears. Lucifer gathers his not so little girl up in a big hug, swooping them up in the air and twirling to show his joy.

Alastor hummed in agreement, getting him a side-eye. Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Alright, this once I suppose you can also claim good parenting of 'our' daughter... that's a neat trick with the carousel and I have some questions around how, for later."

Quietly, because nothing he'd done held a candle to that of the other gifts, Angel moves to sit a tad close to Alastor and passes over his small package. Green wrapping paper carefully tied about them, as he'd noticed the sinner's preference for the colour, despite his red attire.

Alastor snaps his fingers and a pink sack landed on his legs, not heavy, but full of something. He flipped open the sack to find a smaller item wrapped atop the area, and decided to look into it first as Alastor carefulyl pulled free the green paper.

Angel's brows creased in confusion when he first looked at the item, it seemed like a choker but not oriented right and, well, a bit large for him...

Side-eying Alastor, the Radio Demon rolled his eyes and let out a low whistle that seemed to summon an unexpected party. Fat Nuggets trotted in happily, and suddenly it clicked for Angel.

"This is for Nuggsy? A collar that matches my choker?" he asks, surprised.

"Yes, and no. The fabric is imbued with a few different charms, my effeminate fellow... you will find that it can adjust size as your little friend grows, shift to match any choker you deign to wear, and..." he pauses, eyes widening at the item he unwrapped. "...and has a location tracking spell in it that can activate by thinking about your hellpig. Did you embroider this yourself?"

"Hmm? Uh, yeah... my fingers sure know about all the times I slipped with the damn needles. Haven't had to embroider since I was alive." Angel laughs, feeling kind of silly now, to gift something so tacky and homemade.

"Well, I must say it is a delightful gift, thank you Angel, I see you spent extra time getting the notes and antlers of the creatures embroidered with such detail. I can always make use of a new apron. Tell me... are you aware that the notes are-..."

"That one fuckin' tune you play when you're cooking at like ass o'clock in the morning when I get back? Yeah. Took me a bit to work it out, then put it down right, but between Charlie and I we got it."

Radio dials flashed, more out of panic than anything. "Ah, you were spying on my cooking hour, hmmm?"

"What? N-... well yeah, I was coming home late anyway, course I was curious who else was up." Angel shrugged. "Besides, that's not the only thing there, keep going."

"Likewise."

Alastor uncovers a thick stack of hand-written notes next.

He automatically discards the Coupon for One Night with Angel Dust, in a dramatic way that was expected of him, but it wasn't incinerated so that was positive. Underneath it, once the excess glitter was carefully brushed off... was pile of painstakingly recreated recipes.

"So, those were things my nonna and my ma liked to make at home. Loved cooking wth them but I think they held back some secrets for only my sister... you know how it is. Thought you might like trying something new when you were doing your cooking thing." Angel adds, not looking, worried he'd made a fool of himself. What kind of gift was a bunch of recipes to a Radio Demon anyway?

"What a remarkably apt and personal gift, Angel... here I was bracing for you to provide something as tall as you and vibrating hard enough to dent the floors. Colour me surprised..." Alastor's light hearted nonsense brushes his tension away as the arachnid begins to laugh.

"You want that sort of thing? I got connections to Ozzie's, through Fizzy, he can get us the tentacular spectacula-..."

A tendril slams about his mouth. "No, thank you, that will be quite enough with such a delightful gift as you have provided. If you are someone intrigued in cooking, I may be persuaded to share some of my own maman's recipes, particularly those for jambalaya. Though if I catch you seasoning with only half-spice, you will be turned INTO appropriately seasoned Jambalaya. Do you understand me?" Alastor grinned, and somehow Angel could tell this was playful banter, and not a threat.

"The spicy stew thing? Fuck yeah I'd love to know how to make that, oh and the powdered doughnuts things. Cherri loves them, and after Pentious died she's been real flat lately..."

"They do not take long, I will show you later in the morning if you are free. After all, your bombastic friend did help in the battle, it is the least we can offer in her time of distress." Alastor says, seemingly distracted by something, as if weighing up the pros and cons of something.

"Oh, do continue."

Angel cautiously opens the sack and pulls out skein after skein of dyed wool, all slight variations of his preferred pinks, with some other basic colour groups in there. He touches it, not daring to believe it but...

"This is sheep demon wool, isn't it?" he chokes, then narrows his eyes.

Alastor laughs, "Willingly given, why she has collected it for some time and twists it into yarn herself before overseeing the dying with several other sinners in her employ. I merely requested to have some for your gift, as I have seen you take an interest in knitting of late."

"When you say 'requested'..."

"Dearest Angel Dust, I assure you that if I had not stopped the woman she would have provided me every skein on the floor and refused payment if I was not firm with her. A persistent sinner, that one."

"Oh? Why's a sinner so generous then? You own her?" Angel tensed, surprised by the wrinkling of Alastor's nose in distaste.

"No, she does have a deal, primarily for protection, and that was at her insistance."

"Wait, sheep demon sinner? Yeah, Ange, don't worry about it. She's been hurling her soul at Alastor in thanks since he stopped... something pretty fucking bad happening at a butcher shop down the bad side of Pentagram city. It don't do business anymore, the boar that owned it went... missing." Husk interjects, side-eying Alastor.

"Hah, and the big bad Radio Demon is what, freaked out by someone throwing themselves at him? Smiles, ya hot, that kind of thing happens you need t'get used to it. S'why I always got a taser in one of my other-other arms, y'know?" He laughed, enjoying how one of those ears twitched down. "I do love the gift though, knitting helps me unwind and I 've never had anything but the fake acrylic stuff that gets weird and itchy after a bit. So, thanks... it's the best gift."

"What about the Other one, boss?" Husk needles, grinning and catching everyone's attention.

Alastor rolls his eyes, and snaps his fingers. "Spoilsport, I was leaving the best until last..."

The bloody, barely shuddering form of Valentino appeared on the rug before them, making Angel's eyes buldge in shock. The moth's wings looked to have been shredded methodically.

Alastor prodded the sack of flesh with his staff. "Well, the good news is that he was conscious enough to hand over this delightful little piece of paper..."

Angel's heart nearly falls out of his throat when his contract appears, sealed with a green band instead of deep pink, falling into his now-trembling hands.

"Tear it up as you wish, I have no need to possess the soul of one of our guests. I merely assumed you'd want to do it in the prescence of the one who trapped you in it, for closure... before I put him in the broadcast."

"How did-...?"

"For the price Vox asked, I negotiated the right to kill his little toy and take at least one of the contracts." Alastor said sharply, clearly not wanting to discuss it further. "Still, it does remove one nuisance..."

"Alastor, this wasn't what I meant..." Charlie sighs, trying to be disappointed but so pleased for Angel at the same time.

"Was this not a thoughtful, personalised gift of something that the giftee might cherish? Ownership of their own soul?" Alastor replied, gentling his approach. "I don't suppose you or your father would like to... have a word about the time he licked your arm?"

"He WHAT?!"

"Dad, it's fine!"

"Angel, do let me know if you would like to join me when I integrate this... creature... into my broadcast. If I dislike the man and his antics, I can only assume your feelings towards him are far stronger and of greater import. I plan to braodcast at 8pm sharp, don't be late and wear something that you aren't attached to, it gets... Messy."

Alastor prods Valentino until the moth looks up, scowling, and then passes out.

Angel's trembling fingers grasp the contract, heart thundering like it was some sort of sick game and he'd wake up any moment, and tears it in two. Immediately, his collar shatters and Valentino twitches in his stupor.

"...okay, I gotta know, what did he do that ticked you off so bad?" Angel asked, elbowing Alastor, who rolled his eyes.

"Numerous things, I always meant to get around to killing him for his treatment of his thralls... and free you, as Charlotte has always hoped to do. However, I believe I have hated the man from our first meeting, he is so exceptionally odious after all."

"Why, he lick your arm too?" Lucifer growls, looking like he was still contemplating immolating the beaten overlord for touching his Charlie.

"Hah no. Well, you could say our first meeting went rather badly as I bite off his tongue... he's still angry about that, but I feel quite justified in the action for you see, it ended up in my mouth without any warning. He's lucky Vox, who we were both accuainted with at the time, asked for mercy... in hindsight, I should have turned him into mincemeat."

Angel scowled as well. "Yeah... the bastard ain't one for consent."

There was a heavy moment marring the day, before Alastor snapped the Overlord away to who knows where and added cheerfully, "Well, no need to concern ourselves about that anymore... he'll be beyond deceased this evening, and I understand there is quite the day of festivities ahead. If everyone has unwrapped their gifts and found them satisfactory?"

Different statements of assent echoed from around the room as people tried on, tested out or played with their gifts. The Radio Demon was about to speak further when he was hugged to within an inch of his afterlife by a very tall arachnid who was half sobbing, half laughing in joy.

"Ya fucking nuts, Smiles, I like that in a man. This was the best Sinsmas gift ever!" He crowed enthusiastically, and the emotion flowed across the others in the room like a tide of joy. He dropepd his voice under the clamour to whisper, "You just keep hold'a that coupon and I'm going to give you the best night ever... even if that amounts to like, a neck massage and talking about baking tips, all the way to breaking the bed and eating sauteed pieces of Valentino. Whatever you want... I feel almost alive again, Smiles."

Patting the spider sinner gently on the arm and being relieved at the release with most bones still intact, Alastor grins. "I'm quite pleased that I seem to have found an acceptable gift. Now, if nobody minds, I think we could all do with some breakfast... I might even be convinced to try some of those deplorable sugary discus you call pancakes little Majesty."

"Why, ran out of juice after banging that television guy?" Lucifer snipes back, playfully.

"Hah, no, he's no challenge. Now, your wife on the other hand..." Alastor fades into shadow with a cackle as Charlie covers her face with her hands, deep breaths taken to fortify her for the rest of the day.

"Oh you fucker-..." The King exhales, throwing his hands up... and begins to laugh. "Get back here and help cook breakfast, deer, or I'm taking sole custody in the divorce."

With a dramatic gasp, Alastor fades back into view. "How dare you! No judge would side with such a scoundrel..."

Rolling their eyes at the back and forth, the hotel residents head for the kitchen to start off Sinsmas with good food, warm bellies and pleasant conversation. With a hint of competitive dadding in there.

Angel carried Fat Nuggets, in her new little collar, to the kitchen with them. His eyes firmly on Alastor's back, the gaze making those fluffy ears twitch as they sought out the observer.

"Hey Nuggsy... I might be going made from post-contract delirium, but I gotta ask... how would you feel about having a new daddy?"

For her part, Nuggsy just snuffled contentedly in his arms and fell asleep.

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

The end

Will write it better when its not 3fuckingam

this was meant to be a funny throwaway post and now look at it

I'll have to fix and format it so it makes sense and put it on AO3.

[shaelashaela]

Before You Were Born, ch. 19

[cw] physical violence, torture, blood [reading time] 7½ mins.

Eerie silence blanketed the marsh, only interrupted by the soft murmurs of voices from the second story of the house and the occasional crackle of the campfire outside. We slinked along the decaying boards, fighting both sound and splinter in a bid to approach unnoticed. All too late, however, I realized that I was in the lead, and it would be on me to try the door.

I leaned over to Cinlai. “What should I do if we get caught?”

She gripped her sword tightly. “Be ready for combat, naturally.”

“Natural for you, maybe…”

The door latch was rusted, and it felt rough and cold in my hand. Praying under my breath that it wouldn’t squeak or creak, I pushed it down and slowly swung the door open. A low, drawn-out groan emitted from the hinges, and it felt an eternity as I pushed the door inwards. Hopefully no one heard that.

Light washed over everything in the house, blinding me momentarily. I was too impatient to let my eyes adjust, though, and crossed the first floor. I leapt over a broken chair, heading directly toward the table where Sylvie lay.

Cinlai whispered an order from behind me. “Mal, stay in the entryway. Keep watch at the door and the stairs.”

I leaned over Sylvie, searching for any sign of life. I put a finger to her neck, and a relieved breath escaped my mouth. Her pulse was strong.

Her mother came to my side. I backed away so she could tend to Sylvie, but she shook her head. “I need you to carry her while Mal and I cover your retreat.”

For a moment, I wondered if my lack of performance earlier moved her to consider me the one to carry Sylvie. I swallowed my pride, though. She and Mal were better equipped to handle a dark elf—I’d only just learned they even existed this week, after all. I turned my attention back to my friend.

She laid still, two large iron nails piercing her palms, straight through to the table. My heart ached. Several bruises and lacerations covered her face, and purple blemishes left by someone’s fingers marked her neck. To my surprise, her father’s rings still adorned her left hand. They really didn’t see her as a threat, did they?

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, wrapping my hands around the first nail. I yanked hard, hoping to make it as quick as possible. Blood flowed afresh from the wound in her palm as the metal spike broke free of the table’s surface. Sylvie awoke with a yowl and clutched her hand to her chest. She struggled against the remaining nail, causing her other hand to bleed as well.

I leapt forward and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shhh! It’s me! I’m sorry, but you have to try to stay quiet or Ixion will hear us!”

Her eyes opened, but the pupils were unfocused and distant. I couldn’t tell if she could understand me or not, but I apologized to her again and let go of her mouth. The second nail was slick with blood, and though I gripped tight, my hands slipped, and the nail refused to dislodge. Sylvie cried out again, not that I could blame her.

Her mother glanced over her shoulder. “They will hear us for certain!”

My hands were wet with crimson, and it was difficult to regain my hold. “Do you want to do this?”

“Just be quick!”

I whimpered and gripped as tight as I could. My mouth moved in silent apology over and over before giving it one more tug. This time the nail came free of the table. Sylvie only whined a little instead of yelling this time.

“At least the worst part is over.” I wasn’t sure if I tried to reassure her or myself. “Alright now, I’m going to get you on my back.”

Draping her arms over my shoulders, I leaned forward until she fell against my back. Then I tried my best to get my arms around her thighs. Somehow I coaxed her into holding on, but she was also heavier than she looked. I never was one to hit the gym, so I struggled a bit to steady her on my back.

“Okay. We need to get out of here. Just hang on, Sylvie. Cinlai?”

“Eyes forward, child!”

I whirled around to see what was going on, as fast as I could without dropping Sylvie. Mal laid on the ground and struggled against writhing, shadowy tentacles that enveloped him and pinned him to the floor. A pair of dirty leather boots appeared at the top of the stairs, and then they took one step after the other, slowly descending towards us. They were, of course, worn by Ixion, who glided confidently toward the first floor, a triumphant grin on his face. A few steps behind him followed the female dark elf I’d seen earlier that day.

Arrogance oozed from every word he spoke. “You see, Samara? I told you she would return straight to us. Today is a fortuitous hunt. Most fortuitous.”

His companion smiled but said nothing. Her teeth weren’t sharpened like Ixion’s, but it didn’t make her expression any friendlier.

Sylvie’s mother flourished her blade in front of her as he alighted on the final step. “You dare touch my daughter?”

He stopped, noticing the other elf for the first time. “Cinnie, how unexpected! It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Far, far too long. Did you miss the feel of my embrace?”—he paused to put his boot between Mal’s shoulder blades—“Stop struggling! I don’t appreciate the interruptions.”

“You were wise to avoid me, Nox,” she purred. “Were I there that night, you would have felt the tip of my blade.”

She wouldn’t be baited into a duel of words with him, though. Cinlai lunged forward with her sword arm, and Ixion was forced to react quickly to avoid being skewered. Samara jumped down the last few steps of the stairs and tried to catch the royal knight while she was over-extended, but elf-mom expertly twisted her wrist to the left and deflected the other woman’s knife.

She sparred with the two dark elves, and I watched helplessly, wondering if or how I should step in. Maybe I could cast a few spells, but I’d have to put Sylvie down. Would it be better if I tried to make a run for it with her on my back? No, that was stupid—I couldn’t leave her mother and Mal by herself. If only he weren’t pinned down…

My attention snapped back to reality—Cinlai was forced back by her opponents and tripped over the broken furniture, but she tucked and tumbled away from them. Samara leapt forward to pursue her, but Ixion broke off and unexpectedly lunged in my direction. I sucked in a sudden sharp breath, and my mind oscillated between all the possible things I could do in response. Drop Sylvie and protect myself? Cut and run? What would be the third option?

Ixion closed the distance between us. No time left! I chose the third option.

This was no time to experiment, but I had little choice. I focused my mind and uttered a quick incantation. Weaving sorcery without my hands was a gamble—theoretically it was possible, but I never tried it before. Ixion’s blade drew dangerously close, a hand’s breadth from my torso. Normally I’d project the magic out through my arms and hands, but the only option this time was to forc it up through my head, imagining it in the empty space before me.

lue, crackling energy appeared between us, slowing the dark elf’s blade. I did it! It wasn’t enough, though. His knife sliced through the barrier, the point just barely nicking my skin through my shirt. That was way too close. I stumbled backwards in an attempt to avoid it, and Sylvie’s weight threw my off balance. Momentum carried me until we both slammed into the wall behind us.

She grunted with the blow. “Rayna… is that you?”

“Bad time to chat right now, there’s a dark elf trying to kill me!”

Ixion pulled his arm back, ready to strike with his dagger again. “It’s nigh time I put you in the ground, pest!”

Desperately I searched for Cinlai. I couldn’t fight him off on my own, but she was busy parrying blows from that Samara woman. Ixion thrust his knife in my direction once more, and once again I threw a barrier up between us, this time with a little more strength. His blow deflected off my shield with a satisfying clang. I couldn’t keep this up, though. He had me on the back foot, and it didn’t help that my arms were already tired from holding Sylvie up.

“Alright. Sorry, love, but I gotta put you down.”

The dark elf came around with another swing of his blade, so I dropped to the floor, dodging it by what felt like a hair’s breadth, and I let go of Sylvie so that she slumped against the wall. With my hands free, hopefully I could do more than just survive.

I slapped my right hand on the ground and felt around for the natural flow of magic. Perfect, it was there. I was a little worried the fey realm would be too different from where I came from, but it felt familiar enough, though also much stronger. The intensity of it actually surprised me—in the human world, magic felt like a whisper in a large room. Here it buzzed in my ears like standing next to a power transformer.

I tugged on one of the ley lines and snapped it taut, and the floor erupted under Ixion’s feet.

Shards of stone and wood peppered him, and he leapt backwards to avoid the brunt of the attack. Unfortunately for him, that placed him closer to Cinlai, and she immediately took advantage of the opportunity, whirling her sword around in a circle to try and catch him in the back. Ixion tried twisted out of the way, but it was obvious he wouldn’t dodge it completely.

In a last ditch effort, he made a quick motion with his hand, and the dark tentacles that held Mal suddenly shifted targets to Sylvie’s mother, wrapping around her arms and legs. She made a stifled cry of pain and fell to the floor, her blade hitting the ground with a loud clatter.

Ixion panted, clearly feeling the pressure now. “Why do you resist me?” he spat at Cinlai. “Can you not allow a father the love of his daughter?”

He made a motion with his hand like a grasping claw, and Sylvie’s mother yelped again as the cords of shadow crushed her. Samara walked up to her and raised her knife in the air, ready to bring it down upon their prey.

I raised my arm again, ready to cast another spell, but Mal, free of his shackles, was faster than me. A large grey hand grabbed the female dark elf by the face, and he just picked her up and kept moving. The spriggan drove her body wholesale through the far wall, and my ears rang when it exploded in a shower of brick, mortar, and wood.

Ixion was distracted but briefly. It was enough, though. I crossed my arms over my chest then flung them out wide, shooting forth multiple discs of shining, silvery light toward him. They sliced like saw blades through his clothes, drawing blood from his arms and legs. I momentarily wondered if I should have aimed for the head, but I reminded myself we weren’t here to kill anyone.

Perhaps that was a mistake. He growled like a feral beast and vaulted toward me, undeterred, a knife in one hand and a growing gloom in the other. The sudden attack pushed me back… I could block maybe one of them, but not both. Time slowed for me as I realized that might be my final thought. My feet tangled in some unseen debris, and I fell backwards into Sylvie’s lap. Perhaps it was for the better—if nothing else, my body would shield her from whatever the dark elf conjured.

An incantation came to my lips, but then Sylvie’s bloody left hand extended past my face, distracting me. Her right matched it, holding a piece of flint, and she struck it across the ring on her index finger. A shining sliver of ice arced through the air, brilliant and sparkling in the room’s warm light.

Ixion had no chance to adjust his trajectory, caught mid-lunge at my throat. The icicle struck him in the dead centre of his chest, penetrating the sternum with an audible, sickening crack. That alone should have been enough to stop him, but Sylvie didn’t hesitate. She clenched her fist, and the single dart of ice exploded outward across his body, spreading in a star-shape pattern of frozen spikes that pierced him again and again. In the space of a single breath, his body became a grotesque pincushion.

Sylvie’s voice was as cold as her alchemy. “Keep your filthy, murderous hands off her.”

The dark elf bobbed his head up and down, struggling to remain conscious. An ornate and irregular tree of solid ice held his broken body upright, and thick, syrupy crimson oozed from every point where it lanced him. The blood spread swiftly and stained his grey robes a rusty red.

His face drained of what little colour remained, and his voice faltered and pleaded. “Sylvie… why? I just… wanted us to be… together.”

[literallys-illiteracy]

ohhhh ok its been like 2 years since ive listened to TMA but ill add some opinions i have because though the TMA autism may be temporary, the Lob Corp autism is eternal.

So the thing that prompted me to write this was oddly enough my least favourite WAW abnormality, Black swan. i dont entirely disagree with the assignment of the corruption, relating to the nettle armour that the sister made being poisonous, however in its core it is excellent for the lonely; The sister has lost their family before, and plans to never lose one of her brothers.

Really all the Hod floor Abnormalities (lor) are about isolation and fit as the lonely, with the exception of tomorrow's expression, who is one of those weird crosses between the flesh, stranger and lonely, which is an oddly common combination when making characters who's thematic is related to societal conforming and ostracization.

Now to the others that i have notes on.

The Big Bird not being eyes or dark is odd to me, i understand the connection to its lantern and the flame of the desolation, but in the story of the dark forest:

Big Bird, with its many eyes, decided to watch over the forest for intruders. For Big Bird's eyes could see very far, and see things we cannot see.

now, with this thematic of sight, we are lead to the dark and the eye. Big bird carries the lantern to light up the forest for it to see anyone approaching. if it see's you, its too late. this could be represented in the form of the fear of the light, or the fear of attracting its attention, the fear of its many, many eyes.

---

to balance it out, lets remove one from the dark shall we? Fragment of the universe is one of the most perfect fits for the spiral, both from the perspective of the Fragment and the employees.

The fragment is from outer space, planning to spread its knowledge to humanity in the form of its Song when breaching. The only caveat being that this song causes you to go mad, and/or: have a seizure, have an aneurysm.

---

i remember the desolation being strongly STRONGLY linked to fire and burning, but im fairly sure it is destruction as a whole? I'm remembering the person talking about ruining other peoples lives as honour to the desolation in particular for this section.

Alriune is not expressly lonely, though she had her soul decay as time passed following her abandonment, just like Snow Whites Apple, Alriune's story rather focuses on her presently:

Bearing the hope to return to dust, it shall go back to the grave with all that desires to live.

with this i think that she rather fits a niche somewhere inbetween desolation and stranger, due to her origins as a doll and her becoming a human.

---

Though i could joke about Spider Bud belonging to the Web, though i dont think that the web is the most tangible fear to make an abnormality of, i rather think that it can be placed into the lonely or the eye.

the watching eyes of the mother, ready to kill you should you misstep at all.

the mother, ready to kill anyone should they step on one of her children.

---

Adding to the hunt now, i think that the concept of chasing primal desires is the main concept for it, should memory serve, meaning that the Queen of Hatred is a perfect fit.

I completely agree that she works through the lens of the desolation, and if Servant of Wrath were in this game she would fit the role much better, yet for the reasons mentioned before, i do think that this fits.

---

if i can be bothered to write more than ill add some after this or in a rb

tried my best to assign magnus archives entities to every abnormality in lobcorp because of how similarly their "collective human subconscious manifesting in reality" systems work!!

i'm not 100% sure about all of these so feel free to give any thoughts/critique in the notes. especially because some of them could totally overlap between several entities (singing machine has traits of the spiral, the flesh AND the buried).

i also feel like i should clarify my reasonings for some of the flesh ones, like the scarecrow and "you must be happy" machine: the flesh is, generally, the fear of body horror, especially when it comes to forced medical procedures. scarecrow and YMBH, from a lore perspective, are both byproducts of the city's body augmentation market. i feel like forsaken murderer also leans into this a bit!

[pipipyuni]

Hiii💗 are you able to write a oneshot/scenario of human!Jake x FEM! Scientist! reader?( Their already dating btw) you can ignore this if you'd like,there's just barley any human Jake on here😭 Thank you!

All Mine, Forever and Always

wc: 830

gender: fem

cw(s): decent amount of cursing, mentions of (unintentionally) not eating

pairing: human!jake sully x human!reader

an: i hope you enjoy this short little thing! i definitely had fun writing it, that's for sure!!

content can be read below the cut!

There’s an evident pout on your lips as you slump against the lab table. “I just don’t get it!” You sigh dramatically, picking your head up when Norm scolds you for nearly knocking down some test tubes containing some local fauna.

You hold up three fingers to his face, “Three years! It took me three years in college to learn a language! And it only took you, what, a month?!”

Jake snorts, rolling over to your side of the table to place a kiss on your temple while his hand rubs soothing circles into your back, “Two months, actually.” You let out a groan at his obvious displays of faux sympathy.

“Don’t pity me, Sully!” You scowl at him, but lay your head on his shoulder regardless. He’s gotten thinner, you note offhandedly, gaze drifting to his unshaven jaw. His cheeks are sunken and his eyebags have grown darker since you’d last checked.

Before you can comment on his appearance, he barks out a laugh, “Guess I’m just better at learning languages than you.” Now it’s your turn to laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you stand to stretch your tight muscles.

“Nah, maybe you’re just a shit teacher. If I had a teacher like Neytiri, I’m sure I’d learn Na’vi twice as fast as you.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’d just complain to me about her like you did back in college.”

“No, I wouldn’t–”

“It would go something like: ‘How was I supposed to know that door and shit had the same spelling?!’” He flailed his hands dramatically, unironically imitating the exact reaction you had just a few years prior.

“...Do they though?”

He gives you an odd look in response.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you make your way over to the fridge. It’s painfully empty and the only thing worthwhile is a half-eaten tube of food with Norm’s name scrawled messily on a crumpled yellow sticky note on top.

“Hey Norm,” you call out, eyes never leaving the tube in search of any signs of mold or decay. The man in question hums in response. “It alright if I take this?” He looks up with a raised brow, lips parted in silent protest when he sees the food held haphazardly in your palm. He can only sigh once he sees your worried gaze focused on none other than Jake.

He swallows the complaints bubbling within his throat, “Yeah, it’s fine.” He could survive a day or two without food. 

Would it be painful?

Yes, absolutely, but he can’t bear to see you hunched over Jake’s link pod, checking his breathing, his vitals–everything, really, when he goes for hours on end in his avatar body, only to return for a brief moment before being off again.

He can’t help but watch the two of you fondly, though his nose wrinkles when you place an audible kiss on Jake’s forehead. 

Jake merely rolls his eyes at Norm’s aversion to your affection, turning his gaze back to you in a silent plea. You comply happily with a chaste kiss to his admittedly chapped lips. Their still his though, and that’s all that matters.

You find it funny that his nose still crinkles when he takes a bite from the tube. He nearly spits it out, but one stern glare from you has him reluctantly swallowing the tasteless substance.

“The hell is this anyway?” He mumbles when the tube is finally empty after what feels like an eternity (it had really only been about two minutes). You offer a shrug, managing to snag the packaging back from his clenched fist.

“Says it's…Peach flavor?” You lick your lips as your brows furrow in a mix of amusement and confusion, “Didn’t know these things came with flavors.”

“No wonder it tastes like ass.” You stare at him for a moment. He stares back knowingly. Small giggles fall past your lips at first, followed swiftly by peels of hearty laughter.

As you laugh at his elementary-level remark, Jake takes a moment to admire your features. He watches your shoulders shake, and how the curve of your smile is so wide he’s almost worried it’ll split your face in two. He watches the way your chest heaves for gasps of air, even though he knows his joke wasn’t funny enough to warrant this kind of reaction. But, most of all, he watches as the hand-crafted ring glints beneath the early Pandoran sun when you lift your hand up to quell your fit of laughter.

How could someone like him ever manage to land someone as brilliant and beautiful as you?

“Maybe Neytiri is right, you really are a skxawng, you know that?” 

Jake rolls his eyes playfully, smiling proudly at your pronunciation before pulling you by the shoulder into his side and mumbling lowly into the crown of your head, “But I’m you’re skxawng, right?”

Nuzzled comfortably against him, you can’t help the small, breathless laugh that falls from your lips, “Mhm…All mine.”

©pyuni 2022 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

[masterlist]

[beelsnack]

I Put A Spell On You - Obey Me Boys and A Witch MC

I may have mentioned it in an ask or something before, but I'm actually a practicing witch. (Sorry, Mammon.) So, in honor of spooky season, I bring you witch MC!

----

Lucifer: "Can I ask you something?"

Lucifer looked up from the report he had been working on. In the House of Lamentation, hearing that question was very rarely followed by anything but disaster. He bit back the urge to sigh and turned to look at the human. "You may."

"Have you ever been summoned by a witch?" the human set down their pen. They had taken refuge in Lucifer's room in an attempt to actually get their homework done, and had been working diligently up until this point. "Like, successfully."

He raised an eyebrow. "No, I haven't. I doubt any mortal witch would have the power to actually summon me."

"That's what I thought," they leaned back in their chair, stretching.

"What brought this on?"

"A witch I know up in the Human Realm swore up and down that he had, quote unquote, ‘summoned Lucifer himself.’ No one believed him anyway, but I figured I would ask just to confirm my suspicions.”

“No, it is highly unlikely that a mortal witch would have the magical power to summon me,” Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Although many have tried.”

“What happens to them when they do?” they asked, completely abandoning their work at this point. Part of Lucifer wanted to reprimand them for getting distracted, but he couldn’t deny that he liked having their attention on him. “Do you curse them or something?”

“I do nothing,” he smirked as they got up to lean against his desk. Perhaps he could stand to take a break as well. “The minor demons they actually summon, however, often have their fun with those foolish enough to try.”

“Oh, I’ll bet the Little Ds have a blast with them, huh?” the human grinned.

“Ask Number Two about the time he possessed a ouija board and convinced a human they would die if they ever wore the color blue again.”

Laughing, the human moved to return to their spot at his coffee table where they had spread out all of their study materials. Lucifer, however, had different plans.

“Oof!”

In one quick, fluid motion, he had grasped the human around the waist and tugged them into his lap. The movement had mussed up their hair, and he affectionately moved a few strands out of their face to see their adorable pout.

“You know, my dear, you are the only human witch able to summon me. You should wear that fact like a badge of honor.”

Mammon: “Now that’s just playin’ dirty!”

The human had to make a concentrated effort not to laugh at Mammon. “Yeah, they really didn’t have to go that far. They already have you by the balls.”

“They do not!” Mammon growled, crossing his arms. “Nobody has control over The Great Mammon!”

“Except for the multitude of humans who you made pacts with because they promised you a few bucks.”

“Wow, okay.”

Shaking their head, they gently plucked the doll out of Mammon’s palm. It was a standard poppet, made out of cloth. “Why don’t you just have Lucifer or Satan undo the curses?”

“Because,” Mammon huffed. “Human magic is different from demon magic. None of us know the first thing about it.”

“You just don’t want to admit to anyone that the witches pulled one over on you again.”

“Can you fix it or not?”

Smothering another laugh, they brought the poppet closer to examine it. Aside from the basic filling, it felt like there were some stones in there, and they thought they smelled some herbs.

“So, basically all you need to do is remove whatever link they used to bind the doll to you,” they muttered, more to themself than anything. “Usually it’s hair, nail, a drop of blood if they’re feeling particularly nasty…”

“That’s what they were doin’?”

The human looked up, tilting their head. “What?”

“One of the witches was bein’ real nice to me,” Mammon sighed. “Patting me on the head when I dropped off some money for them. Shoulda known she was trying something fishy!”

“Okay, that answers that.” they made their way over to their desk, plopping down in the chair. “So she probably pulled out some of your hair and put it inside the doll. So all we have to do it get it out, this thing becomes a regular old doll, and voila, curse broken.”

“How do we do that?” Mammon asked, peering over their shoulder as they reached into their drawer. His blue eyes widened when they pulled out a pair of scissors. “Whaddaya plan on doin’ with those?”

“Mammon, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Wha - ack!”

Mammon doubled over in pain at the same time the human cut open a slice on the doll’s belly. There, right in the center of the stuffing and stones - and there were herbs in there, they had been right! - was a little bundle of white hair, tied with a piece of twine.

“Ah-ha!” they plucked the bunch out of the doll, and Mammon just barely managed to catch himself on the corner of the desk before he went crashing to the floor.

“Holy shit, human, I’m gonna fuckin’ hurl.”

“Do it somewhere that isn’t my room, please.”

Leviathan: “Levi, I don’t know how to tell you this, but ‘witch’ and ‘magical girl’ aren’t the same thing.”

Ever since they let it slip that they practiced witchcraft, Levi had obsessively forced them to watch every magical girl anime he could think of. It was his way of relating to them, they were sure, but it was starting to get a little out of hand. There were only so many variations of the magical girl trope in existence.

Levi frowned at them. “It’s not?”

“Well, for one, I don’t own a super cute lolita dress.”

“Do you want me to make you one?”

The human laughed. “Somehow I don’t think showing up to a coven meeting wearing a pink loli dress will make the others take me very seriously.”

“What about blue?”

“Leviathan.”

“Fine, fine,” he huffed. “So if it’s not like in the anime, what is human magic like?”

“A lot more boring than demon magic, honestly.” the human shrugged, turning back to the monitor. Since they had put their foot down against watching Madoka, the two of them were rewatching Sailor Moon. “A lot of using herbs and crystals and energy. Really symbolic.”

“That is boring,” Levi scowled. “You don’t even get a transformation sequence.”

“I’m just as mad about it as you are, dude.”

Satan: “Holy shit, Satan, that is a ton of books.”

THe demon had no reason to look as proud as he did as he sat the stack of books on the table in front of him. “This isn’t even all of them. Some of them are cursed, so I let them be for now.”

“That’s...both impressive and concerning.” the human picked up a book off the top of the pile. “Whoa, it’s even handwritten!”

“I’ve collected my fair share of grimoires over the millennia.” Satan took a seat across from them, watching as they turned each page with reverence. “I believe that one is from a Scottish witch from the 16th century.”

“Should I be wearing gloves or something?” they cradled the book like it was made of glass. “This is historic, Satan.”

“I’ve cast the appropriate spells on them to prevent them from decaying, don’t worry.” Satan laughed. “Although your concern is appreciated.”

“I could learn so much about the craft from these,” their voice was barely above a whisper, eyes wide as they scanned each page like it contained the secret to eternal life. “This is...wow…”

The look of utter rapture that the human had on their face was endearing, and Satan couldn’t help but smile softly at them. “Feel free to peruse them whenever you like. They deserve to be appreciated.”

“You mean it?” they looked up with hope sparkling in their eyes. “Thank you so much, Satan!”

“Of course,” he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “That look on your face is worth any price.”

Asmodeus: “I have a gift for you!”

Asmo poked his head up from where he had buried it in his D.D.D. The human stood next to the couch, arms clasped behind their back and a giddy smile stretching across their face. Asmo could practically feel them vibrating from excitement.

“Ooh, for me? Darling, you shouldn’t have!” He pocketed his phone and gave them his full attention. “What is it?”

They held out their hands, revealing the treasure they had been hiding. “Ta-da!”

Asmo carefully picked up the chain from their palms. Dangling from the end of it was a small bottle, wrapped carefully in wire and turned into a pendant. Tiny, translucent pink stones sat inside, nestled in a layer of salt and herbs. The magic surrounding it was faint, as most human witchery was, but it was so uniquely them that Asmo could just about cry.

“Oh, darling, you made me a love charm!” he exclaimed, immediately slipping the necklace on. “It’s so cute! I love it, thank you so much!”

The human smiled. “I’m glad! I wasn’t sure what to do with the rose quartz, but I knew you would love them, so I figured I would make you something! Not that I really think a love charm would work on you, but I figured you would appreciate the aesthetic.”

Asmo laughed, reaching forward to cup the side of their face gently. “You don’t need to use a love charm on me, darling. I’m already captivated by you.” His other hand came up to touch the pendent resting against his collarbone. “This will just serve as a reminder of how spellbound you’ve made me.”

Beelzebub: When they had first described themself as a “kitchen witch,” Beel had thought that they meant they were a really good cook.

And while that was true, they also were literally a kitchen witch.

“Basil for protection...oregano to ward off negative magic...there, that should do it.”

To Beel, it just looked like they were making pasta. Which was never a bad thing. But they chose which herbs to season it with such intention and purpose, Beel knew it was more than that.

“Do herbs really have magic?” he asked, leaning on the counter next to the stove while the human worked on magic dinner. “I’ve never thought of them as particularly magical.”

“It’s more of a human thing,” they said, sprinkling the last of the oregano over the pot of sauce. “We don’t get the flashy sparks and all that, so we had to develop our own magic.”

“Hm…” Beel regarded the pot with curiosity. “Is that why your cooking is so good?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” they laughed, swatting at his hand as he slowly approached the pot. “You aren’t sneaky, Beel.”

“Can I just have a taste?”

“Your ‘taste’ is drinking the whole pot like it’s soup.” they rolled their eyes. “I haven’t even started cooking it yet! It’s cold!”

Beel pouted, looking every bit the kicked puppy. “But I want to taste your magic.”

“You can taste my magic when dinner’s ready.”

Belphegor: On nights when he couldn’t sleep, Belphie usually ended up with the human.

Sometimes it was just him wiggling his way into their bed and cuddling with them until he felt sleepy. But tonight, it looks like they were sharing a case of insomnia.

So that was how he ended up sitting on the human’s floor with his hand in their lap as they studied it like it was a textbook.

“So? What do the squiggly lines of destiny tell you about me?”

“That you’re a little bitch.” they shot back, running their thumb over the center of his palm. “You have a lot of crosses on your heart line.”

“Which means?”

“You’re emotionally fucked up.”

Belphie snorted. “I could have told you that one.”

“You’re the one who came in here and wanted to see some human magic, I don’t want to hear any complaining.” they let go of his hand. “The only reason I’m breaking out the salt and candles is to banish your demonic ass from my room.”

“You know that only works on lesser demons.”

“Anything will work as banishment if I throw it hard enough.”

Diavolo: This...felt kind of pointless, honestly.

They knew it was mainly because of Diavolo’s obsession with human culture. But doing a Tarot reading for the Crown Prince of Hell seemed like a waste of everyone’s time.

Well, regardless, a summons from Diavolo was not to be ignored, so they had dutifully gathered up their cards and made their way to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

“You know,” they began hesitantly. “If you want to know the future, you have a time-manipulating butler right there.”

Barbatos, ever watchfully, chuckled and inclined his head. “My Lord is fascinated by human methods of divination.”

“It’s true,” Diavolo nodded. “Tarot especially has always piqued my interest, but very rarely do I have time to indulge with the other witches who visit the Devildom.”

....Oh, they really couldn’t say no to the hopeful gleam in his eye. A man that large had no right to look that cute.

“Alright,” they handed him the deck of cards. It looked hilariously small in his hands. “Go ahead and shuffle them.”

“Oh, I get to do it?”

“If you want,” they shrugged. “I usually have whoever is being read for do the shuffling, so the deck can get a feel for their energy. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, this is exciting!” He really did look like he was having fun. “How many should I draw?”

“Just one, and we can go from there.”

With a focus that might have been a bit too intense, Diavolo began shuffling. He handled the deck carefully, which made them happy. So many people were rough with the cards, and they were always worried they were going to get ruined.

“Alright.” Diavolo laid a card face down on the table between them. “Would you like to do the honors?”

He was being dramatic, but they couldn’t help but play along. What was the harm in a little bit of fun? They flipped the card face up and let out a startled chuckle.

The Devil.

“Did you do that on purpose?” they asked, laughter dripping from their voice.

“No, honest!” Diavolo was laughing too. “What does the Devil card mean?”

“It means my deck has a sense of humor.”

[seaside-writings]

Hello, all you wonderful people!

I hope you're all ready for another super long prompt list because today is the 10th anniversary of the one and only "Gravity Falls" which to this day is still one of my favorite shows in existence.

The world-building and the characters are top-notch in my opinion, and it doesn't matter how many times I watch it, it never gets old and I doubt it ever will.

This amazing show that touched so people first aired in 2012 on June 15th, where it completely stole my heart thanks to a gnome puking up a rainbow.

Since then it's become one of my comfort shows and never fails to put a smile on my face, so celebrate "Gravity Falls" and all its weirdness, I've made this prompt list of all of my favorite bits of dialogue from every character.

I do hope you all enjoy this prompt list, and if it doesn't help you write, I at least hope it makes you smile and gives a little bit of nostalgia.

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Lots of Love & Wishes: Celia 💙

Prompt List:

"You think the world makes sense? NOTHING MAKES SENSE! SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL MAKE NONSENSE!" - "You're scared. Of growing up. And who could blame you; I'm scared, too," - "Remember! Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold, bye!" - "Three, four, five, six," "Your wife is going to be beautiful!" "Yes!" "Come on, we've got a big break in the case!" "Let's go!" "But will she love me?! - "Romance is like gum: Once it's lost its flavor, you just cram another one in." - If you accidentally eat the prize that comes inside your cereal, does that make you a specially-marked box?" - "He's looking at it, he's looking at it!" "Uhh, do you like me? Yes, definitely, absolutely?" "I rigged it!" - "Do we have a ladder?" "Studies show owning a ladder is more dangerous than a loaded gun. That's why I own ten guns, just in case some fool tries to sneak in here with a ladder," - "You! You can't even imagine what you just cost me! Do you have any idea what I'm like when I'm mad?" - "Is this legal?" "When there's no cops around, anything's legal!" - "Dude, am I a side character?" - "Hey, hey! Let go of my sister!" "Oh, hey there. You know this is all really just a big misunderstanding. You see, your sister's not in any danger. She's just marrying all 1,000 of us and becoming our gnome queen for all eternity. Isn't that right, honey?" "You guys are butt-faces!" - "The future is in the past. Onwards, Aoshima!" - "For one trillion years I've been trapped in my own decaying dimension, waiting for a new universe to call my own," - "Ugghh... I'm never gonna eat or do anything ever again," "Hey! There's still some left!" "EVIL!" - "But you can call me your new lord and master for all of eternity!" - "Songs are like hugs that mouths give to ears!" - "Now, who wants to put on some blindfolds and get into my car?" "YAY!" "Wait, what?" - "I must warn you, these statues come at a terrible price," "Twenty dollars?! I'll just take 'em when you're not lookin'," "What?" "I said I was gonna rob ya," - "You can't force someone to love you. The best you can do is strive to be someone worthy of loving," - "Time is dead and meaning has no meaning. Existence is upside-down and I reign supreme. Welcome, one and all, to Weirdmageddon!" - "Maybe that old guy was crazy after all..." "He did use the word "scrabdoodle"..." - "I don't know. I was in the friend zone, and then he pulled me into the romance zone! It was like quicksand!" - "He thinks there's no heroes in this world, but if we work together and fight back, we can defeat him. You wanna be her hero? Stand up to that psycho, and let us save her!" - "How many of these did you eat!?" "Beleven.. teen..." "Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man," - "You really think you can outwit me, boy? I'm Sherlock bleeding Holmes! Have you seen my magnifying glass?! It's enormous!" - "Face the music, kid. You got no muscles, you smell like baby wipes, and let's not forget last Tuesday's... incident. - "Child, why have you come here? "Multibear, I seek your head! Or, one of them, anyway. There's like...six? Six heads?" - "What was that about?" "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. Talk about what? Why is this table wet?" - "Food!" "Thanks there, sugar pot. I-I mean honey wasp, kitten baby, b-baby cow," "Ha! Silly... so silly," - "Okay, I'm not actually laid back. I'm stressed, like, 24/7. Have you met my family?" - “Stay curious, stay weird, stay kind, and don't let anyone ever tell you you aren't smart or brave or worthy enough," - "I'm legalizing everything!" - "We're gonna have to break in," "And here are your balloons; blue and pink!" "We're in," - "Oh, look. The "constable!" What are you gonna do? Throw me in "ye stocks?'" - "If you're watching this, you are one of eight people in these United States with clearance to view this information. In fact, I myself will be shot once the filming is complete. What? We're not doing? Ha! Well, that's a relief!" - "He is such a jerk," "Yeah, but he's a jerk with tight pants and a guitar," - "I just wanted to tell you that everyone makes mistakes. And when they do, you should forgive them. And also that tight pants are overrated," "Dude. You lost me," "I know," - "You're under arrest for violation of the Time Traveler's Code of Conduct," "It was those kids! And their leader, Waddles!" "That's a pig," - "You can hide, but you cannot hide!" - "I'll get you for this! I'll go back in time and make sure your parents never meet!" - What's going on out here, dudes? I heard a ruckus. Heh-heh, that's a funny word. "Ruckus"," - "I ate a man alive tonight," - "No, buts except yours out the door. now shut your yap and get to work," - "Well, we're still here," "Guess he forgot to go back," - "A darkness approaches. A day will come in the future when everything you care about will change... Until then I'll be watching you! I'll be watching you..." - Today, I learned that morality is relative!" - "I think I'm gonna go stare at a wall for a while and rethink everything," - "Why sweetheart, I wouldn't hurt a hair on your itty-bitty head. If you agree to be my queen!" "NO! Never! I will fight you till the day I- Gummy Koalas!" - "Oh yeah, this is gonna be your worst plot yet. They're fine; I saw them playing in the yard minutes ago," - "I was awoken by the sound of mockery. Where is it? Show me the object of ridicule!" - "Ow!" "I high-five hard," - "You know, kids? I've been thinkin'. At the end of the day, Summerween isn't about candy or costumes, or even scaring people. It's a day when the whole family can get together at one place and celebrate what really matters... PURE EVIL!" - "I'm giving none of this to charity!" - "YOU CAN RUN, BUT I'LL STILL BE IN YOUR NIGHTMARES!!" - "Maybe this is one story we should keep to ourselves," "Agreed," - "Yeah, dude. That sounds science-y enough to be true," - "Ah, the pool! Sparkling oasis of summer enchantment!" "Yeah, nothing like sitting in a moist tub with strangers. It's like the bus but wet." - "I am the lifeguard. I make the rules, sucka! Boosh!" - "Why would a sun need to wear sunglasses?" "It's best not to think about it," - "Wow, you work here?" "I found out lifeguards get free snack privileges. Plus I get the best seat in the house," "Yeah, you do!" - "Yes, yes... burn the child!" - "How long ya in for?" "Two hours for roughhousing, but I'm innocent!" - "Finally, a good reason to punch a teenager in the face! Let's roll!" - "I have never met anyone like you," "Me too. Except for a zombie, a gnome, and a couple of cute vampires," "I don't remember the vampires," "I don't tell you everything!" - "Well if it makes you feel better, the apocalypse is comin' soon! Bury your gold. You've been buying gold, right?" - "Me? Nothing. This? I was just eating some sour candy...so my lips did that...because the candy was so sour," "Can I have some candy?" "...No," - "Road safety laws prepare to be ignored!" - "Wait a second! Is something rooting through our trash? Hey, hey! Get outta here! Darn beautiful men always eating out of my trash. Wait what?" - "You can't put him outside! There's predators! And barbecues!" "That's just the natural order. It's not my fault your pig's potentially delicious!" - "Oh, I get it. You're trying to guilt me! Well, it ain't working, pal! Who cares if you're her favorite thing in the world? I can live without the kid talking to me all the time. Telling me her jokes... making me laugh," - "I've been cheating the last eight turns," "Haha, that's my girl," - "Here! Deer teeth! For you, kid!" - "Gimme that back or I'll..." "Or you'll what, boy? You'll what? Huh? Huh!? No muscles, no brains - face it, you're nothin' without this!" - "The entire lower half of your body is on fire," "Shhh... we're having a moment," - "Karaoke isn't about sounding good. It's about sounding terrible together," - "All right, you undead jerks, you ready to die twice?!" - "What is the ONE thing I asked you NOT to do tonight? "Raise the dead," "And what did you do?" "Raise the dead," - "Hey, well at least you can't deny that magic exists anymore, right? "... Kid, I've always known," "What!?" - "The only wrinkly monster who harasses my family is ME!" - "I'm not an idiot, kid, of course, this town is weird and the one thing I know about that weirdness is that it's dangerous. I've been lying about it to try to keep you away from it, to try to protect you from it. Looks like I didn't lie well enough," - "They're slow! Just power-walk away from them!" - "Dude, you're laying on my bra," - "Man, these movies are a lot less scary when you've actually fought real zombies," - "They sure are taking their time in there," "Didn't he say something about a monster!?" "Oh, no! I thought he was joking!" "You know his jokes are terrible!" - "You think you're so clever, don't you? But you have no idea what you're up against. You will never find the author! If you keep digging, you'll meet a fate worse than you can imagine," - "Would it be wrong to punch a child?" - "Don't stay up all night. The last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt," - It was just a job, kid! No hard feelings. And I've been keeping an eye on you since then, and I must say, I'm impressed! "Really?" "Yep, in fact, you deserve a prize! Here, have a head that's always screaming!" - "I'm gonna stop you! I'm going to find that journal before you do, and I'm gonna stop you!" "Heh, but how can you stop me...if you don't exist?" - "Did he just make out with his puppets?" "I might've dodged a bullet there," - "The point is, I like you. How's about you let me give you a hint, huh? I only ask for a small... favor in return," "I'd never do a favor for you! Don't forget who defeated you last time!" "Right, you "defeated me". Well, if you ever change your mind, I'll be here for you, ready to make a deeaaal," - "Movies are great! You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you - next thing you know, you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart... Forget that last part," - "Well, that just put me 90 minutes closer to death. Time you kids learned to watch the classics from my day," "Ooooh, old people movies! Get ready for references we don't understand and words we can't repeat," - "Love God! sign my face!" "Only if you sign mine, baby! LET'S GET WEIRD!" - "You're the worst," - "Just gotta splash this sucker with some anointed water and he should be out of your probably fake blonde hair," - "I was right about you all along. You're just as bad as your parents. Another link in the world's worst chain!" - "Look at who you're talking to, boy. I'm hosting a party for the most powerful people in the world. You think they'd come here if they had to rub elbows with your kind?" "My kind?" - "A forest of death, a lesson learned! And now the manor will BURN!" - "Hey, ugly! Over here! You want me to let in the townsfolk? 'Cause I'll do it! Just change everyone back!" "You wish to prove yourself? Pull that lever and open the grand gate to the town! Fulfill your ancestors' promise!" - "Is this thing broken?" "Our family name is broken! And I'm gonna fix it!" - "Ow! Hot Belgian waffles! Wait, I'm alone. I can swear for real! SON OF A..." - "I wanted to say that you're gonna hear some bad things about me, and some of 'em are true, but trust me—everything I've worked for, everything I care about, it's all for this family!" - "Is this the part where one of us faints?" "Oh, I am so on it, dude," - "What...? W-who is that?" "The author of the journals... my brother," - "You owe us some answers: What's the deal with this portal? Why did you keep this a secret?" "And what happened between you and your brother?" "I hope all of this aligns exactly with my fan-fiction. If not, I will be very disappointed," - "Greetings. Do kids still say greetings? I haven't been in this dimension for a really long time," "Whoa, a six-fingered handshake? It's a full-finger friendlier than normal!" "Heha, I like this kid. She's weird," - "Look, you gonna explain what's going on, here? You're acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee," "Listen, there isn't must time. I've made huge mistakes and I don't know who I can trust anymore," "Hey, uh, easy there. Let's talk this through, okay?" - "I'd lost him. I didn't know if he was dead or alive in some distant galaxy, but I knew his journal must have the answer to getting him back. Somehow," - "No, no! You don't understand what I've been through! I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems? I've got a mullet!" - "That's IT?! You finally want to see me after ten years, and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?!" - "Have you come to steal my eyes!?!" - "My boy, do you know what this means? We must stop everything I've been working on at once... and PLAY!" - "Kids, if I die, make sure I get a bigger tombstone than my brother," - "Look, it's time we stop trying to be so "perfect" and be who we really are. We're crazed, angry, sweaty animals! We're not unicorns, we're WOMEN! AND WE TAKE WHAT WE WANT!" - "You lied to me! Where does that portal really lead?!" "Hoho! Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart! Let's just say that when that portal finishes charging up, your dimension is gonna learn how to party! Right, guys?" - "MONEY!" - "TV lied, man! If you can avoid growing up, do it! I'd give anything to be twelve again," - "Well, it's a horrible opportunity for me! I had the worst day of my life! When we turn thirteen, summer ends and I have to leave everything behind. You're the only person I could count on, and now you're leaving me too?!" - "Look, things aren't gonna stay frozen this way. It's part of growing up. Things change. Summer ends," - "At last! At long, long last! The gate between worlds has opened! The event one billion years prophesied has come to pass! The day has come! THE WORLD IS FINALLY MINE!" - "I'll die before I join you!" - "Open up! This is the police. Time Police!" "Just play it cool, ditch the time-punch. Let me do the talking," - "This is crazy! I'm sorry about our fight, and I'm sorry things aren't great right now, but that doesn't mean you can stay in here forever!" - "Look, real-life stinks sometimes, okay, I'm not gonna lie. But there's a better way to get through it than denial, and that's with help from people who care about you," - "I thought you were living a fantasy, but look at me! I actually thought I was gonna stay here and be his apprentice! Spend my entire teens cooped up in a basement with a lab coat? How ridiculous is that? I don't know what's gonna happen in the future, but whatever it is, you don't have to fear because we'll do it together. I'm not taking his apprenticeship. We've traveled to Heck and back to get you and we're goin' back together. Leave this fantasy world. Let's beat this and grow up together," - "You mean it? You're really coming home with me?" "Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. Awkward sibling hug?" "... Sincere sibling hug," - "Aw, man, I never noticed how bright this place is, ugh! Have I actually been listening to the same song for an entire week?" - "Since the Mayor got captured, I elected myself de-facto Chief. The plan's to stay in here and eat brown meat until we run out. Then I vote we eat the gnomes," "Hey! I'm short, not deaf!" "Shh, shh! Stress will make you chewy!" - "You're insane if you think I'll help you!" "I'm insane either way, braniac!" - "Well, would you look at that! Those kids really care about you. And you care about them. DON'T YOU?!" - "Ohh, I can't believe this! The kids are gonna die and it's all my fault! All because I couldn't shake your stupid hand! Ugh, Dad was right about me. I am a screwup," "Don't blame yourself. I'm the one who made a deal with that psycho in the first place. I fell for all his easy flattery. You would've seen him for the scam artist he is," "... How did things get so messed up between us?" - "Do you really think he's gonna make good on that deal?" "What other choice do we have?" - "Heh-heh! Do a pretty good impression of my brother, don't I? Switch clothes and no one can tell us apart! Welcome to my mind. Surprised you didn't recognize it," - "Oh, yeah. You're goin' down. You're getting erased. Memory gun. Pretty clever, huh?" "Y-you idiot! Don't you realize you're destroying your own mind too?!" "Eh. It's not like I was using this space for much anyway," - "You're making a mistake! I'll give you anything! Money, fame, riches, infinite power, your own galaxy! Please! No...! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME...?!" - "Hey, look at me! Turn around and look at me, you one-eyed demon! You're a real wise guy, but you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my family!" - "MY TIME HAS COME TO BURN! I INVOKE THE ANCIENT POWER THAT I MAY RETURN!" - "Heh. Guess I was good for something after all," - "You're a hero," - "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, oh I know we'll meet again some sunny day," - "Being a hero means fighting back even when it seems impossible," - "If you've ever taken a road trip through the Pacific Northwest, you've probably seen a bumper sticker for a place called Gravity Falls. It's not on any maps, and most people have never heard of it. Some people think it's a myth. But if you're curious, don't wait. Take a trip. Find it. It's out there somewhere in the woods, waiting,"

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

[reality-inflicted]

I so wish I still had the original file for this photo, but alas! It was taken before I had the sense to do cloud backups of my files and for that reason – my eternal stupidity – the file is now lost in the limbo of hard drives crashed. So what you see before you is an edit of an edit of an edit to the n-th degree. It does, therefore, show some wear and tear, and for this I apologize.

But not too much. What is a photo, really? This blog is called "reality-inflicted" because to a younger and – says I with the hope that age has somewhat dimmed my hubris – more pretentious Me felt that a photo was just that: Reality thrown in your face; a snapshot of what was at that specific moment in time and place. That I then headed home to promptly edit said image in my computer to suit my own sense of esthetics did not, at the time, strike me as paradoxical.

And to be frank, it still kinda doesn't. but it does. But don't. Intentions and meaning alter and shift with the passing of time, distance and intent. The photo may at the core be the same as the photo I took all those years ago, but the person editing it today is not the same person. What I see when watching the photo, the meaning which I instill into it today is not the same as when I first pressed the trigger all those years ago on a foggy November morning. Perhaps it is more accurate to view this photo as a memory. Not crystal clear, bent and bruised by photoshop and time and the passing fancies of the editor's journey to through life. Visual scars on the fabric of time. Blemishes of both decay and wisdom.

I think this is the last iteration of this photo. Any more edits will probably sunder the fabric of space and time. It would tear reality asunder. And we don't want that now, do we? So I think I will leave it be, and surrender it "to the room," as Cioran said, " like the toes of a blind". From now on its blemishes and bruises will not be at the fault of me. I have offended it enough. It is time to let it make its own mistakes.

Musicmusicmusic.

[rotworld]

Voice and Style

an anon asked:

Do you have any tips for learning how to write in a different writing style?

and honestly i just went off the rails lmfao this is a long post, but hopefully it's useful. i wasn't 100% sure what you meant by style, but i assume you mean more along the lines of "voice" than the difference between like narrative, persuasive, etc. but let me know if you meant something else! what i'm going to do is 1) talk about voice in writing, 2) author voice vs character voice and examples, and 3) actually answer the question. i promise 1 and 2 are relevant to get to 3!

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to start we need to break down what "voice" is. this is a term that gets thrown around a lot when people talk about writing, and i've heard people get a little heated about it lol but i'll give my take at least. there are actually two kinds of voice: the writer's voice, and character voice. we'll start by focusing on the former.

describing an author's voice is tricky, because it's largely subjective. some parts of it are concrete and easy to analyze, while others are down to the author's personality, perspective, and life experience. while it is something that you continue to hone as you gain experience, it isn't something you can measure or "rank" comparatively. so...what the hell is it lol

if we boil it down to the simplest components, here's what i think goes into voice: tone, syntax, word choice, and perspective. this isn't all that voice is, but these are the fundamental building blocks, and the way you use them is a mix of personal preference/affinity, your level of experience as a writer, and who you are outside of writing.

->tone is often described as the "attitude" of your writing, the mood you evoke with a combination of the other components. in "twelve moments in the life of an artist," david sedaris recounts his struggles with an attempt at an art career and a meth addiction, simultaneously. the subject matter is difficult and emotionally distressing, but because it's sedaris writing it, it's fucking hilarious. it's funny because of the tone, the ridiculous statements he makes, the witty observations and the flippant way he describes things. someone else could write the same story and make it a dramatic tragedy, but sedaris' tone is one of humor.

->syntax is the way a writer constructs their sentences. i know this sounds boring lol but it can play a huge role in a writer's voice. when do you use long and complex sentences versus short and simple ones? do you use repetition, and for what purpose? when do you use active or passive voice? for example, "the monster bit him" vs "he was bitten by the monster." these sentences mean the same thing but have a subtle difference in where the focus is. these might seem like small, insignificant details, but they can drastically change how a work sounds. the rhythm of your writing also ties into syntax.

->word choice is just how it sounds: what words do you use when you write? are you more of a "purple prose" type who likes flowery, detailed descriptions, or are you more sparse and "beige?" do you use certain phrases of colloquialisms?

->perspective is straightforward, too. do you like or have a tendency for 1st, 2nd or 3rd person? there's some variation in 3rd person, too, like omniscient 3rd or close 3rd. i think a writer's strength and preference in this, as well as when they deviate, also contributes to their voice.

but what about character voice? this is kind of similar, but limited to specific characters and how you portray them. it includes their dialogue and word choice but also their perspective or worldview, their opinions, and their personality expressed by their interactions. it's the kind of thing that differentiates characters speaking even without a speech tag to label them. there might be really extreme differences between character voices and the author's voice, depending on the character.

i always feel kind of narcissistic using my own work as an example lmao but i think changeling is a good example, since each passage is super focused on a particular character and their perspective. in first person, or close 3rd like this, a character voice can come out in narration. huntress sounds like this:

The hunt ends. Her catch, meager. Still, she will not waste it. Wolf Mother travels far to see the meat put to good use.

She walks the crossroads, strange paths through the strange world. Sniffs out the road she needs and steps through thick fog. Darkness gives way to orange autumn haze. Eternal harvest season. Blackened corn rots on the stalk. Machinery rusts in the fields. Bloated animal bodies decay in old barns. It is sad and stifling, the stench of forgotten things. And there—the farmer’s son. Lopsided boy. He stands on his porch, wiping blood and grime from his hammer. Distrustful, he watches Wolf Mother. Above, a slow-turning weathervane creaks.

her sentences are often short and choppy. the unusual syntax (the hunt ends. her catch, meager) gives it a feeling like a feral stream of consciousness. rotten corn, machine rust and bodies decaying are visceral, smelly descriptions because her sense of smell is especially strong and she relies on it to interact with the world. in contrast, ghostface sounds like this:

He’s hanging around Haddonfield when She comes calling, because he doesn’t have a realm of his own. Oh, no, no, no, of course it’s not a problem. He doesn’t mind at all, honest! It’s just, you know, he’s real good at this whole ritualistic murder thing. Got a knack for it, you might say. He was something of a professional before he ever got brought on board with an impressive résumé spanning most of the continental United States—not that he’s bragging, of course. He’s just experienced, motivated, highly-organized, versatile, and frankly, overqualified.

this is almost conversational. he's "hanging around," he's "got a knack for it," like the way you talk to a friend. his narration has a very informal and emotive vocabulary. he talks about his skill at murdering people like he's at a job interview, and he's extremely arrogant. my hope, as the author, is that all of this comes across and you get a strong sense of these characters just from brief passages.

finally, we can go back to the original question lol how do you write in a different "style?" i think you have to analyze different styles and voices, and figure out what you're going for. do you want to write something dreamy and surreal, or more dry and sarcastic? what tone are you going for, and how can your usage of word choice, syntax and perspective help you attain it?

i'm giving you homework lmao track down your favorite book and try analyzing the author's voice. take some notes on the tone, and if it contrasts the subject matter or genre (is it cynical? is it nostalgic? is it a lighthearted, fairy tale-esque fantasy or a more somber, gothic one?). also pay attention to the word choice. how vivid or descriptive is the prose? does it evoke certain imagery or themes? (in kraken by china mieville, a story about a giant squid that goes missing from a museum and the chaos that follows, he uses a lot of water and squid metaphors.) use the elements of voice listed above as a checklist of things to look for. if there's a certain writer you want to emulate or take inspiration from, studying their work like this could help a lot.

one last thing: since we talked so much about voice, i want to ask why you want to change your style. you can ignore this part if you want lol this is just a pep talk and something i think is good to mention. if you want to focus on differentiating character voices, or trying out a new style for fun, that's awesome! you can and should experiment with style, but remember that your voice as a writer is something unique to you. it's not something that you have to fundamentally change. we can all learn from other writers and hone or refine our style, but i think who we are on a personal level affects our affinity for certain stylistic choices that form our voice.

for example, on a scale of purple to beige, i lean pretty lavender lmao but i'm not ashamed of that! i was influenced a lot by writers who have a (capital R) Romantic flair to their prose, so i like flowery language and descriptions of nature. if it gets too purple and "in the way" of the story, then sure, i might need to trim down certain passages. but my affinity and tendencies aren't something i'm going to get rid of altogether, rather something i'll practice so they're super polished. once you identify your voice, i think you should embrace it and roll with it.

[final-servamp-banter]

White Day Event: Gear

We stan the werewolf on this blog, his route gives me all the feels.

Gear: [Your name]? It’s me.

Gear: Tomorrow’s White Day, right? I’ll come pick you up from your place, so wait for me.

Gear: ……What? You’re in Japan, so that’s difficult?

Gear: You worry about small things, don’t you? That’s not an issue, so don’t worry about it.

Gear: All right, see you tomorrow.

(He hangs up)

You: (“Small things”, huh……)

~ 3/14 – in London, with Big Ben in the background ~

Gear: It’s evening already. We walked around quite a bit. Are you tired?

You: (Gear-san took me to a lot of places he likes…)

Player Choices (Note: Causes a split until after the next choice):

1: It was fun

2: I’m a little tired

Option 1:

Gear: I see, that’s good. That means working on this plan for a week without sleep was worth it.

You: (Eh?!)

Player Choices:

1: O-One week?!

2: Without sleeping at all?!

[Both options lead to the same dialog]

Gear: That was a joke. That’s just how enthusiastic I was.

Gear: That you were so surprised means it was worth telling that joke, too. Reminds me of how Youtarou was when he was younger.

Gear: Back then, he’d take every little thing I said seriously, but he’s grown up in the blink of an eye. Now he just says “Yeah, yeah” and brushes off whatever I say. Seriously.

Gear: I don’t want to forget that honesty of Youtarou’s, either.

Gear: ……? What are you getting sullen for? It sounds like I’m looking down on him?

Gear: I didn’t say that. I’m praising him. I’m the type who fundamentally praises humans.

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

Option 2 – “I’m a little tired”:

Gear: … I see. Sorry for not considering that. I don’t really get tired unless something outstanding happens.

Gear: I’ll consider that for our next date.

You: (D-Date…)

Player Choices:

1: So today was… A date, too?

2: So there’ll be… A next one?

Option 1:

Gear: I didn’t say that… Was that what you think I’d say? If not a date, what did you think it was? I don’t think there’s a man who can put together a date course as perfectly as I can.

Gear: Awkward humility isn’t good. It’s lonesome to not have confidence in yourself.

Option 2:

Gear: Of course. Depending on your schedule, since humans are usually much busier than I am.

Gear: It’s not like I have nothing to do. I’m busy, too. There’s a lot of new games and books that have piled up, after all.

[Rest is the same]

Gear: There wasn’t much time for shopping today, so next time, let’s make a department store the main part of our date.

Gear: I like to go shopping, but whenever I’m looking at home appliances, Youtarou soon says “I’m tired, I’m tired”. So we take a break and eat some ice cream.

Gear: And that’s although Youtarou looks around for ages if we’re in a clothes store. He only complains that we’re taking way too long if we’re shopping for me.

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

[Merge for the “It was fun”/”I’m a little tired” branch]

Gear: Well then, today we had lunch at a museum, afternoon tea… And we came here after enjoying a staple full course meal.

Gear: Your White Day Present is here.

You: (……?)

Player Choices:

1: …… Here?

2: Is there something here…?

[Both Choices lead to the same dialog]

Gear: It’s different from Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?

You: (…… Eh?! If I look closely…)

Player Choices:

1: Th-That clock tower…!

2: Big Ben…?!

3: It’s not under restoration…?!

[All options lead to the same dialog]

Gear: Yeah, Big Ben is under restoration. They’re not done working on the restauration yet.

Gear: You were disappointed when you couldn’t see Big Ben on Valentine’s Day.

Gear: So I thought I’d show you… “The appearance from a little while ago”.

You: (W-Wait a second…!)

Player Choices:

1: From a little while ago…?!

2: We went back in time?!

[Both choices lead to the same dialog]

Gear: From just before you couldn’t see it because they covered it in scaffolding for the restauration work.

Gear: Who do you think I am? I can do that much.

Gear: … Asserting that like this would be bad. Today is special. It’s not like I do this all the time. It’s not like I can do it all the time.

Gear: It’d be a problem if you thought I could do it, and it’d be a problem if there were rumors I could. So what I did today will be our secret, okay?

Gear: It’s especially a secret from Youtarou. He’d get angry at me and ask what I was doing. Maybe.

Gear: It’s like a special production just for today. It would be good if you could think of it as an illusion or a mirage. As a service just for here.

Gear: Time is transient and never returns. So doing this breaks the rules.

Gear: I just thought I wanted to give you the greatest surprise I could.

Gear: Objects decay, but emotions remain. No, I suppose in the short lifespan of humans, objects are what remains.

You: (For a White Day Gift…)

Player Choices:

1: An object might have been good

2: I prefer memories

Option 1:

Gear: Is that so? In that case, I’ll do that next year. My wish is to do something that makes you happy.

Gear: It’s wonderful to cherish tangible things in the limited amount of time they have.

Gear: I like that you can also use the object as a cue to think about your partner, or look at it to remember the time you spent with them.

Gear: … Even though that idiot didn’t seem to understand that. Ash, I mean.

Gear: I think of that promise while watching the starry sky through the hole in the roof. That way, I can think of someone far away.

Gear: The time spent thinking of others is lovely.

Gear: Unfulfilled promises may someday turn into sadness and anger, but… My life is too long to make something an “unfulfilled promise”.

Gear: That means, in short, that I’m patient.

Gear: Well, what I just said about Ash doesn’t matter. The promise we made was finally fulfilled, after over 100 years.

Option 2:

Gear: I see. That’s good.

Gear: I hope I’ve left even a small impression deep within you. Even if it’s an illusion like a dream and becomes vague once you wake up.

Gear: I hope that you’ll think, this definitely, without a doubt “happened”.

Gear: I’ll keep you within me, too. Time spent with your loved ones is irreplaceable.

Gear: I could see both your surprised and your happy face today. I’m as happy as I can be.

[Rest is the same]

Gear: In the end, living beings live for themselves. For their own joy. I’m glad that I need you for my joy.

Gear: Currently, my joy in life is made by you, Youtarou, Ash, that house, this town, and old dreams.

Gear: Thanks to you, my joy increased again. How could I not thank you for that?

Gear: Joy is the companion of living. Even the sadness of parting is a companion of living. That’s not just humans… Me and vampires like Ash are no exception.

Gear: I’m proud if I can be part of the joy in your life, too.

Gear: Give me your hand. We’ll cross that bridge together.

You: (He’s… holding his hand out to me…)

Player Choices:

1: Take his hand

2: Be overwhelmed

Option 1:

Gear: The illusion will stay until we cross that bridge hand in hand. Don’t let go of my hand on the way.

Gear: Let’s cross as slowly as possible. I want to remember your temperature, too.

Option 2:

Gear: … Ah, in that case, let’s just walk next to one another.

Gear: Even if we’re not touching, that doesn’t mean we don’t understand one another. We can be by each other’s side and love one another. That’s enough.

Gear: Well… I’d like you to allow me to at least look at your face in profile. All right, let’s go.

[Rest is the same]

Gear: Thank you for today, [Your Name].

[End]

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

T/N: When the player goes “Eh?!” after Gear says he hasn’t been sleeping for a week, there’s still Gear’s name and avatar on there. Which I know is a bug I just find it kinda funny lmao

“It reminds me of Youtarou when he was younger” is more literally “It reminds me of the old Youtarou”/”The Youtarou from long ago”, but I’m pretty sure he means Smol Youtarou.

From the “It sounds like I’m looking down on him” to “I’m praising him”, it’s not really clear whether he means Youtarou or the player - I went with Youtarou because he was the one Gear had been talking about, but the player might as well have felt that Gear was looking down on/making fun of them (by comparing them to Kid!Youtarou), or humans in general.

When he talks about the companions of life, there’s the “that’s not just humans” bit - He may also mean that it’s something beings that are not human feel while humans don’t, but then he says he and vampires are not exceptions, which is why I included humans (After all, if it meant non-humans, Gear wouldn’t have to specify again that non-humans feel it, too)

Gear is just,,,, so precious 🥺 Like “I was looking forward to seeing you so much I wanted to plan without sleeping” PLEASE SIR KNOW I LOVE YOU.

Also. Y’know, Nicco (yes I’ll do him soon-ish) already goes all-out, but Gear just goes and breaks the rules of the space-time-continuum for you. Like, that’s commitment.

I hated having to pick “I’d rather have something tangible” ;_; Dude BREAKS THE SPACE-TIME-CONTINUUM for you and you just go “Yeah nah gimme something worth money” that’s just MEAN!

Sorry for the long T/N I just have a lot of things to say and A LOT of emotions about Gear. Like, with the vampires, it’s so easy to forget how eternal they are, that they’re immortal. Theoretically, if a Servamp decides they want to keep someone around, they can make them into a vampire. Gear can’t. Gear has been around longer than the Servamps, and since he keeps making friends, choosing to make friends, he has lost so, so many people, and it’s just, you can tell that he functions on a scale vastly different from humans. But does he decide to harden his heart, to not meet new people to avoid the heartbreak? No, he sees it as a part of life, and while it’s sad, it’s worth it to him, and I just-- 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭

[toothpastecanyon]

Deceive, Distrust, Destroy - Chapter 1

Alcor has grown up with his sister time and time again. It's a chance to relax, to forget for a little while... a chance that can easily be weaponised.

Thank you so much to @feferipeixes for beta reading this!!

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.  

______________________________________________________________

“I need you to save my daughter.”

If there was anything consistent about Alcor, it was how consistently he made the stupidest choices in the multiverse.

That was what Oz’darthic Of Shadows thought, anyway. So many times had she watched Alcor wrap himself in the body of a human child and forgo his power… it made no sense! Where was the benefit? What was his plan? He didn’t even try to mess with the lives of those around him - it was a shameful display, really.

    Shameful, that the most powerful demon in the world was so very weak. If only the tables were turned, if only she could wield the power of the Dreambender… well, those mortals down on Earth would finally get a taste of what demons were truly capable of.

    If only.

But, barring that, she had been hatching up another plan, making deals, playing muse to a few arrogant humans. All the pieces were lining up, and just now, she’s waiting to see if this last one will fall into place - or if it will blow up so catastrophically she won’t take form again until the end of the universe.

    It’s night, in front of a sleepy family house. All the lights are off, but the moon illuminates a man standing before the driveway… and the knife in his hand. His fists ball up as he passes through a flaw in the wards, unlocks the door, steps inside.

For a moment, nothing. Not a sound. Another moment, then-

A scream. Crying, yelling, footsteps rushing down the hallway. The lights flash on and something bangs against the walls, and then it’s all drowned out by him.

Even Oz’darthic flinches a little at Alcor’s terrible roar. To attack a Mizar so brazenly - she doesn’t envy the weaker demon she forced inside. She feels its soul be shredded into tortured mist, and waits with bated breath to see if she’ll be next.

Maybe he’ll think this is too suspicious. Maybe. She can feel how he pauses at how weak, how mindless this demon is - it should have sensed his mark on Mizar and left her be. Why didn’t it? And how did it possess someone? Why-

But then, to Oz’darthic’s eternal relief, a cry. It cuts through the Dreambender’s thoughts, and now he’s rushed over to tend to the helpless mortal… all according to plan.

She curls her lip at that. What a predictable thing Alcor was. No demon should be this easy to trick.

Shaking her head, she steps back into the Mindscape. That was the most important step. There’s still things left to do, portals left to finish, sacrifices yet to receive… but it’ll all fall in place in the coming few years. She’s not worried about any of that. Once Alcor shakes hands with those puny mortals, there’ll be nothing standing between them and a delicious little apocalypse of her own.

“No, can’t you see, she won’t make it to a hospital! It has to be me. I promise this isn’t a trick, she’s special to me… take my hand. Let me save her. Please.”

A flash of blue flames brings a smile to Oz’darthic’s face. It is done.

______________________________________________________________

“Maeve! What’s the ETA on that light?”

“I dunno, I just opened it up!”

“Is it just a burnt out bulb? I hope so. That’s a quick fix.”

“I said, I just opened it up.”

“Sorry.”

    Maeve rolled her eyes as she opened the casing. The wires were all lit up with a flashlight’s beam… but then it shifted away. She glanced back, and saw her brother looking up at the sky.

    “Sun’s going down fast,” he said, and flinched when she smacked his shin. “Huh?”

    “We’ll be here all bloody night if you don’t hold the flashlight steady.”

    “Oh, sorry! This good?”

    “Yeah, keep it there.” She picked up her multimeter with her good hand and leaned in. Dipper watched her for a second, tried to keep the flashlight angled over her shoulder… but his eyes kept being drawn to the sky.

The end of the world had the most beautiful sunsets. The red skies cast deep shadows through the ruined houses, through the cracks in the decaying streets, through the rows of budding crops in the field before him. A little darkness fell on his foot, and he moved it away.

You could never be too careful.

    “Stupid… fecking…”

    “Maeve?”

    “Yeah, hand me the bulb, Dipper.” She stuck her hand out. “You were right. They called us out here to change a bulb.”

    “Why do you sound annoyed?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a quick fix, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, it’s so quick they could’ve done it themselves!” The lights flickered on, bathing the crops in stark white light, and she threw her hands up in the air. “There, done! Four years of engineering and I’m stuck doing this.”

“Aw, it’s not that bad.”

“Aren’t you the optimist,” she grumbled. She closed the casing, and the broken bulb slipped out of her hand. “Oh, you little… ughhh.”

She reached down, behind the light, into the shadows. A part of her brain sounded alarms at that; she hesitated, and then-

    Something grabbed her hand.

Maeve swore and jumped back and the creature came with her; it was a hulking voidlike mass of spines, far larger than the patch of darkness it came from, snarling and digging its claws deeper into her wrist.

A jolt of fear ran down her spine, but it only served to steel her. Without hesitating she drew a warded knife from her belt and slashed the thing where it was gripping her - it let go with a terrible screech.

“Maeve!”

“Dipper!” She motioned at him. “Flashlight!”

He shone it right at the creature, and it shrank back with a hiss. They watched it slink back into the shadows, becoming formless as it left the light, disappearing into nothing.

Nothing, and everything. Maeve stared out into the night, into the endless darkness that surrounded their little field… and couldn’t help but shiver.

“Maeve!” A hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She felt a stinging in her hand, and looked down. “Huh? Yeah, I’m alright.” She flexed her wrist. “Nothing seems broken. We’ll patch me up back at camp.”

“Yeah, we really should be going.” He kept his hand on her as she fished her flashlight out of her bag. “Need me to carry anything?”

“I told you I was alright, didn’t I?” She shrugged him off. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

The two of them started making their way back, sweeping their beams across the broken road they travelled down. Grass had grown through the cracks in the tarmac, and on each side sat cars rotting in front of dilapidated old houses. Darkness loomed in those mossy windows; Maeve resisted the urge to shine her light at them, get a proper look. It was too dangerous to be distracted.

Too dangerous to do much of anything, these days.

The street opened up before them into a parking lot. Before them was one, single lit building; lights streamed out of the windows of an old Sainsbury’s supermarket, and a couple flickering floodlights lit up a patch of farmland right in front. Dipper started walking a little faster when he caught sight of the lights; Maeve rolled her eyes and followed.

“We’re nearly home!”

“Yeah, we’re nearly at camp.” She rolled her eyes. “I told them that field’s too far away. If we ran out of soil we should’ve just broken up the tarmac more, but does anyone listen to me, noooo…”

“What was that?”

“Nevermind, just grumbling.”

“Heh,” Dipper rubbed his head. “You do that a lot, don’t you.”

They crossed the parking lot, turning off their flashlights as they reached the crops. Maeve ran her palm over the leaves as they passed; it felt cool on her skin, calming.

The doors slid open as they approached, and the light and the sound of chatter put a lump in her throat. Dipper stepped through without hesitation; she took a breath, and followed.

Ding.

“There you are!”

Before Maeve’s eyes could even adjust, arms came around her. Her vision went dark as she was pressed into someone’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Squeeze. “It was getting so dark - what took you so long? You said you’d be back before sunset!”

“Hi, Mum!” Dipper drew back, a smile stretched across his face. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to stay out late. We were heading home, but-”

“Oh my god!”

She seized Maeve’s hand - Maeve stiffened at that, stepped back and ripped her hand away.

“Wait, you’re bleeding!” Her mother made another grab for it. “Just let me help, baby, I-“

“It’s fine.”

“But-“

“I said, it’s fine.”

Her mother’s face crumpled at that, and there was a pause. Dipper glanced between them, and then cleared his throat.

“Well, the crops are looking good!” He rubbed his head. “Got a pretty good look at them while we were fixing the, uh, light.” Another pause. “Ugh, you know, my head kind of hurts-“

Their mother was on him in a flash. “Oh no, are you alright?”

“I’m alright, just, you know, magic-“

“Let’s get you resting.” Their mother led him away. “I’ll get you some water, does that sound good? Alright, we’ll do that…”

Maeve watched them go, and rolled her eyes. She cast one look around the camp, at the others milling about and eating dinner, and then made her way to the near corner of the store. Some makeshift rooms had been created by moving an aisle next to the wall and divvying it up with cardboard and blankets; the closest one was hers, and she slipped inside.

It was cramped and bright - still lit by the store’s lights from above - but it was private, and she breathed a sigh of relief at that. Her hand was really stinging, so she sat down on her mattress and started digging through a mountain of spare circuit parts and screwdrivers they’d taken from a hardware store to find - aha! First aid kit.

Maeve took out antiseptic and a roll of bandages, and stopped to inspect her hand in the better lighting. There was blood, but not too much; the creature seemed to have missed anything important. All there seemed to be was a couple of claw marks, and a long scratch over the scarred stumps of her fingers, ending just before it hit her thumb.

She gave a wry smile at that as she opened the antiseptic with her teeth. At least it got her bad hand. A little spray, a couple bandages, and it’ll be fine.

Once that was done, she sat back on her bed, gave a stretch, and then relaxed with a deep sigh. She stared up at the lights, and could hear people chattering outside her room; their voices had an echo to them in the store that made it hard to hear what they were saying… but Maeve kind of liked that.

She liked not being able to pick out what people were saying, because then she’d have to think about them. She liked hearing her mother’s voice without knowing what she was saying, because whatever it was would surely annoy her, definitely ruin this nice little moment of being left alone for once.

She didn’t get many chances in the apocalypse, so she cherished every one she got.

[greyias]

Time to go Full Gravedrog

Hey guys. You know what we haven’t done in a while? That’s right! Put on our tinfoil hats, get tangled up in an entire spool of red string, and do a ridiculous deep dive on lore and make up wild insane theories about the upcoming story drop!

That’s right we’ve got some--

First up. If you haven’t watched it already, here’s the trailer for the 6.2 story drop, specifically for the storyline we’ll be doing our deep dive on, Echoes of Oblivion.

Are you pumped? I’M PUMPED. Let’s do this!

Okay, so there’s a lot to unpack here, and I’m going to state outright, that the chances of this being on the money like Gravedrog is... well. I’ve got no lottery numbers for you this time around. I can’t believe no one took me up on that offer.  There’s always the possibility the storyline has absolutely nothing to do with any previously established lore, and they create something wholly new. And hey, if that’s the case, this is just free fanfic fodder for the masses.

But Charles did mention, I believe on the forums(?), that he’s seen one person guess what’s going on. The real question is... WHO GUESSED IT. HMM.

So I’ve been wanting to actually do a post on this a while, at least since Arcann’s voice actor accidentally made the slip up about Thexan being in this story drop. A large part of this theory/discovery goes to the lovely @confettininjabean​​, who found this piece of lore when we were getting tangled up in red string back in the Gravedrog days, pre-Nathema Conspiracy. Let’s just say, there was a... certain interaction on Twitter that had us thinking this had something to do with NC, and when it didn’t pan out we were like “Oh, weird, guess that wasn’t on the right track” and forgot about it.

Well, sort of. Because we were like, “that really seemed significant considering”, but hey, sometimes you hit upon a Gravedrog, sometimes you think Indo Zal is an evil mastermind playing 4D chess. In other words, when it comes to red string theories, you win some. You lose some.

Anyway. I forget why, but I went perusing on Wookieepedia a few months ago, looking back up this sort of obscure piece of lore for some reason. And something about it was.... FAMILIAR.

The article in question: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Thought_bomb

May I direct your attention, to this part:

Hey. Where have I heard that before?

Aw. Aw shit. Well I mean, that can’t be right though, right? Because it’s Satele and a bunch of Jedi/like-minded Force users that are being possessed right? And besides this is an an ancient Sith ritual thought to be created by... 

Oh.

Oh wait.

But that’s a plague right? Not the same thing as a thought bomb. I mean it’s not like anyone in SWTOR has dealt with a Force plague--

Oh. huh. But you might say, “But Grey, that plague was invented by Terrak Morrhage, not Vitiate.” And you would be right! What I can’t seem to find confirmation of, thus far, is exactly when Terrak Morrhage lived, but by me and Jayde’s current reckoning, it seems like he may have been around possibly during the Great Hyperspace War, the end of which Vitiate used in his mad grab for immortality and power, manipulating what was probably a majority of the remaining Sith Lords into his brand spanking new ritual that he just needed a little help with.

Okay, and this is where we leave lore land, and enter into speculation land. I, um, just got sidetracked on Jedipedia (I’ll get to that), trying to find a codex entry regarding Vitiate I know I’ve read but I lost at some point. So, we’re going off memory here, but I’m fairly certain it’s stated in canon somewhere that prior to his ascension, Vitiate was obsessed with Sith alchemy and ancient Sith rituals. So if Morrhage pre-dated him, or was a peer, it’s possible Vitiate was able to learn about his plague, and adapt it to some of his other experiments.

Okay, back to the thought bomb for a moment. Full disclosure, I haven’t read the Darth Bane novels, so I’m going off of Wookiepeedia here instead of the source material (which is always a dicey affair), it says Bane adapted the thought bomb from notes on the ritual Vitiate performed. So, it’s possible the thought bomb is not a 100% Vitiate original, just a bastardization of it. But it’s interesting that the ritual itself gathers up and shreds the Force essence/soul of everyone in its path. Well, I mean, horrifying. But in this theory’s perspective, interesting in that when Vitiate used Zildrog as part of his ritual--where did all of the Force go exactly?

Because as you wander around Nathema, you hear the tortured whispers of every soul obliterated during that ritual.

This is talked about a little in the Revan novel, and it’s been a few years since I read it so I’m kind of going off memory again, but he basically created a void in the Force there. And remember... in the KOTET chapter we went to Nathema, he was actually visibly afraid a few times. Hmm... now why would that be? Was it Vaylin he was afraid of? Was it something else?

If memory serves, there wasn’t an actual explosion like as described with the thought bomb--because he wasn’t using the ritual as a weapon. He was using it to gather power, to shuffle off this mortal coil and live eternal as an annoying spirit who you just can’t quite squash out no matter how many mind mazes you build to keep him locked up. So, and again, this is speculation land, but all of that swirling Force and dead energy had to go somewhere right? I mean, Zildrog had his snack and went omnomnom, but where did the Force power go? And why was there a Void that constantly pulled at him and sapped away his power on Nathema?

Is it because the Force didn’t explode? Is it because he bound it up in his old disgusting decaying old man flesh? And the only reason he was alive because he basically made himself a little flesh horcrux that was destroyed at the exact moment we sent him off to the Void that he feared so much?

Hmm. Interesting.

Wait. Wait a second... I think there was something else he mentioned. Now, what was it?

You know, I had always assumed he was talking about Gravedrog being unleashed, since the whole reason he went to Zakuul was likely to find the Gravestone so he could pair it with Zildrog back on Nathema, and enact his galaxy-wide extinction event.

And maybe he was.

Or was he talking about his failsafe.

The one he knew would happen if someone destroyed his old, withered, icky body?

So... if the ritual/plague is some take on the thought bomb, and it infects any Force user like some prescient, who could have realized this is what 2020 held in store for us pandemic that spread rapidly and consumed everyone who touched it, until it made manifest what was once just thought...

Is the whole entire point of this to bring Valky back from the dead? Or is it just his last revenge? And what on earth would that last revenge be? Well... and just hear me out. Say there was this guy. Kind of an asshole. And he had this whole schtick about killing every single living thing in the galaxy and liked to consume whole planets in a single gulp just for funsies. Wouldn’t it be so funny if he, say, in the unlikely event he possessed some Outlander who happened to go “get out and get a job loser!” and booted him off to the beyond, and at the same time his old indentured servant and that chick he once possessed found his horcrux and destroyed that, wouldn’t it be a kick if that somehow kicked off a plague that consumed every single Force user in the entire galaxy until it had enough power and then exploded and completely wiped out all life in the galaxy, so that if the asshole who’s name totally isn’t Valkorion couldn’t live forever then neither could any. single. thing. in. the. galaxy.

I mean, that or it’s just a ploy to get him into one final boss fight.

But i dunno... I kind of just found the entire cast list of who’s in the Echoes of Oblivion storyline (warning, major spoilers and datamining on that link, and yes, that’s what distracted me on Jedipedia) and I’m kind of thinking. Having to keep the entire galaxy from being consumed by a sociopath’s final revenge kind of sounds like a pretty epic finale, don’t you?

And hey, if not. Free fanfic idea for anyone who wants it.

Oh yeah, also predicting the following:

We’re going on another mindscape adventure like in KOTET Chapter 9, but it’s Satele’s mind we’re in

It’s not actually Valkorion/Vitiate/Tenebrae, but a remnant/essence of him that’s made manifest by the ritual. Also he needs a combo nickname because I’m tired of having to pick one of three names. I shall call you Valkiatebrae. It’s a beautiful name. I know he’ll love it.

Vaylin and Thexan who we see in the trailer are probably also manifestations conjured by the quasi- Valkiatebrae

We’re going to Ossus? Or Ossus in Satele’s mind?

The Knight and crew missed a few of the death cult back in the storyline, and that’s who was either watching Tenebrae’s body, or who hijacked Satele’s ship OR they have some part in the ritual (perhaps the part to physically manifest  Valkiatebrae). We see them in the trailer above.

Regardless if any single one of these predictions is right I’m going to die of feels

Because I think Satele and Theron may have a scene together????? OMG

I’m screaming again

I’ll stop now

I’m sorry Charles I hope I didn’t do it to you again I couldn’t help myself, but hey at least I kept it in this long

EDITED TO ADD: Okay guys, I’ve been looking more at Jedipedia. I think I can safely hazard a guess that a LOT of fans of different characters are going to be super happy with this update. Just saying.

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter six: are we fixed or free?

a/n: Sorry for the extended wait, that road trip really did me in. Here’s the next bit. Getting deeper into Aaron & Cole’s dynamic. Again, I’m so sorry? Warning for substances & abuse, as ever. ~4.5k

The summer arrived quickly for Aaron who now had a new secret he didn’t understand. He was uncertain what to make of the events of that afternoon. There was no blueprint for him to follow here. The only intimacy he’d observed with was in the context of his parents’ relationship and that didn’t seem like the best example. The only mentions he’d ever heard of two men being together were lessons about eternal damnation. It made sense that he would belong to such a path. He was already lost in so many ways, he doubted this, or anything, could make it worse. But it still puzzled him, unsure what his feelings were, what they should be.

He reviewed his memories of that afternoon repeatedly, examining the dimensions of the place where his life had taken this unexpected turn. He’d had no way to anticipate any of it but still he tried to gather clues, combing the moments surrounding that first kiss for signs of what would come next. He remembered the way their desperate collision had only broken apart when Cole pressed too hard on his ribs and he had involuntarily cried out in pain. The way Cole had scrambled back, standing up and watching Aaron from a safe distance while the color drained from their flushed cheeks, a mindless passion replaced by apprehension. The way Cole had run his hands through his hair repeatedly, the nervous habit making the blond strands stand on end. Aaron couldn’t remember another time he’d looked so uneasy, before or since.

Aaron had considered him through his dazed high, the drugs mixing with the unexpected surge of hormones to overtake any coherent thought. He had been confused but it was a warm sort of confusion, still feeling the echo of Cole’s hands, his lips, racing across his skin. He’d tried to understand the emotion he was seeing on Cole’s face. He was always trying to understand the minute changes there, searching for a hint at the other boy’s motivations that he kept locked away.

“You’re not stupid are you?”

Aaron frowned, not able to follow this thought. He’d become distracted by the pain in his side, his ribs reminding him of the insult they had endured. He’d lifted his shirt to poke at them gingerly, as if this would make any difference at all.

“Hey!” Cole was impatient.

Aaron’s attention snapped back, wary of the irritation but not sure how to fix it. He wanted to ask what was wrong but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, his thoughts barely a trickle. He was only live nerve endings and a creeping nausea as the painkillers left his system.

Cole stared at him hard, trying to make him understand without spelling it out. When he didn’t see any sign of recognition he sighed in disgust. “This,” he waved his hand. “All of this. You’re not going to say anything, right?”

Surprised, Aaron shook his head slightly. He didn’t have anyone to tell even if he was foolish enough to want to. He used the tree trunk to help pull himself up so he was standing, doing his best to meet Cole’s gaze. “I—“ he began but his thoughts wouldn’t move in a straight line. It had felt so much like a dream. He could hardly believe it was real if it wasn’t for the blood and grit in his mouth.

Cole watched him, not offering to help as he swayed, finding his balance. He kept one hand on the tree, its solidness soothing. This point of connection to the world was the only thing keeping him in place. Overwhelmed by the whiplash of attentions, anger and affection and desire melting into an unrecognizable mess, he felt like one wrong move could send his cells spiraling out, forming new constellations he’d never return from.

“I won’t tell,” he managed.

Cole nodded, satisfied for now. “You should go home, you look like shit.”

Aaron was having a hard time keeping up. “Home?”

“Damn, are you really that high?”

Aaron wanted to laugh but his throat was too dry. He coughed instead. He still felt Cole’s fingers wrapped behind his neck, was still captivated by the smell his skin, smoke and something sweet, like decay.

“I’ll walk with you but you’ve gotta stand on your own. It’s way too early for me to be carrying you around.”

Aaron followed, a few steps behind, annoyed at the suggestion he’d ever needed to be carried. He watched Cole’s back, following the pattern of his footsteps, retracing their way to his backyard.

Cole looked at him doubtfully. “You better take a shower and clean up. Your parents are going to know something’s up.”

Aaron shrugged pulling a twig from his hair. “I doubt it.” What he meant was that he doubted they would care enough to notice.

“It’s your life I guess.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, stiff and deliberately distant. Aaron opened his mouth to say something he would want to take back later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cole cut him off, turning away before he’d finished speaking. Aaron started up the back steps, his hand reaching the doorknob before he remembered something. He turned and called, “Hey Cole!”

The other boy paused, looking back with a blank expression, closed off and wary.

“Where’d my…”he stumbled on the words, embarrassed to have to ask. “Do you have my medication?”

Cole smiled, patronizing. “Oh I’ve got that, don’t worry. I don’t think it’s smart for you to have that around, do you? We don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

Aaron blushed, mumbling a response about how it was his, how it was none of his business what he did with them but Cole was already walking away.

*

He had never consciously considered his affections before that day. Passing moments had caught his attention but he’d never stopped to think about who or how that would play out in the real world. He couldn’t help feeling like he had committed some offense. If the sermons or the sentiment of the town were to be believed he was making a terrible mistake, an evil choice. And yet it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the most logical thing in the world.

He battled with himself about it. Telling himself to stop thinking about how good it had felt to be close to someone. That it would be better to forget and move on, pretend the moment hadn’t happened. It was only weakness, he argued against his softer self. A weakness to need validation that he was a creature worthy of that kind of attention. He knew plenty about weakness, knew better than to let it show.

So, despite his excitement, despite the fire that raced through his veins at the memory of that afternoon, he didn’t push for anything more to happen. He simply waited, hoping that time would resolve his uncertainties.

The next time he saw Cole, the older boy ignored him at first. Aaron hung back, watching, trying to get an idea of what he was expected to do. He sat on a tree stump, off to the side of the group, playing with the fraying cuffs of his shirt. It was getting too warm for the long sleeved shirts that he wore most of the year. He shifted uncomfortably as a bead of sweat slipped down between his shoulder blades. He wasn’t sure yet what he was going to do about that problem. He’d always been on his own in the summers, no one to notice the changing landscape of his skin, the dark blue-greys that faded into algae green, traveling up and down his arms, his legs, as the stars moved across the night sky, dependent upon the balance of forces beyond his control. Yet here he was, surrounded by people. They might not notice him, not pay attention to the quietly angry boy who had been absorbed into their group over the past year but he wasn’t sure he could stay so invisible with those kinds of secrets on display.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Cole appeared beside him, offering him a cigarette. He accepted, catching the flame of the lighter, gratefully pulling the smoke into his lungs. He let the sensation distract him from his nerves prickling at the nearness of the other boy. He darted his eyes to Cole, to see if he could read instructions in his expression. Cole’s eyes were fixed on the side of his face, the deep purple bruises he’d left there. No one had asked about these new bruises on his face, but when had anyone ever asked about such things before?

Aaron became uncomfortable with the attention, his knee bouncing rapidly. Cole reached over, touching the swelling on his jaw. Aaron did his best not to flinch, keeping his eyes steady on Cole’s face. He stayed still even as Cole pressed his fingertips harder against the darkened skin, his touch quickly becoming painful. He held his breath, willing himself not to react. The expression in Cole’s eyes was distant, seeing something other than Aaron’s fearful acceptance. The pain became too much and Aaron shifted away slightly, unable to tolerate it any longer. Cole dropped his hand, seeming to snap out of the trance he’d fallen into. Aaron avoided his eyes, looking away and taking a drag on his cigarette.

They didn’t discuss it.

Nothing seemed to change after that, neither of them daring to vocalize their thoughts, so the moment passed and faded. Instead, they fell back into their routine. Somehow Aaron’s pills had become “their” pills and they disappeared quickly. He found that he didn’t care, he was too focused on understanding his newly complicated feelings. He hovered close to Cole, hoping that the nearness might act as a magnet, drawing them back together again. He was afraid to ask for it, afraid of what it meant to want something like that. But maybe if he could just manufacture the right conditions, he thought, maybe then. He still wasn’t sure if he really wanted Cole or if he just wanted to be touched but he was certain the only way to find out would be to try it again.

A couple weeks later they were drunk, stumbling home, laughing at something neither one would remember. As the entered the garage, Cole decided abruptly that he was making too much noise. He pressed his hand over Aaron’s mouth, hissing at him, half playful, half tense. They listened for the sound of footsteps, any indication that they had disturbed his grandmother. Aaron had only seen her once and she seemed nice enough but he could understand the instinct to stay hidden, to move through the world unnoticed. He fell silent and focused on the heat of Cole’s hand, the slight nicotine scent of his fingers held firmly against his lips.

Satisfied no one was coming, he released his grip. When he looked at Aaron, saw the mix of anticipation and desire in his eyes, he stepped back. He wiped his hand roughly against his thigh, as if there were some particularly unpleasant residue imparted. As Aaron struggled to mask his disappointment, Cole’s expression darkened.

“Go home Aaron,” he said roughly.

“What? Why?” He was flustered, scrambling to understand what he had done wrong.

“Get out.” Cole turned away, stalking to his desk where he sat with his back to Aaron.

Aaron stared, wide-eyed, too tipsy to grasp what was going on. “But I thought—“

The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of it. He knew by now not to argue with Cole, knew that pushing against that finality in his voice never got him anywhere. Still, he had let himself hope and he wasn’t ready to let the moment pass.

In an instant Cole was back, standing right in front of him, so close that Aaron lost all his words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. Something clicked and Aaron placed the emotion he’d been seeing bursts of, slipping into Cole’s words, his actions. He was afraid. Aaron smiled at the realization, just the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Cole tried to push him away, both hands against his chest, but Aaron grabbed him, almost laughing now. Fear was simple, he knew fear. Fear could be overcome if they just kept moving. He couldn’t count all the times he’d been afraid but here he was, still breathing, still wanting something from the world. He pulled Cole closer until their foreheads touched.

“Don’t be stupid,” Cole breathed.

“Too late,” Aaron answered, alcohol obliterating any lingering reservations. Nothing else mattered here. His only thought was that he needed this, to see if it would feel the same as before. That feeling he was forever chasing, where every thought disappeared from his mind and he became only impulse and reaction.

He found what he was looking for.

*

It continued haltingly, never sober, never around other people. Half the time it was followed by icy silences, Cole avoiding Aaron for several days while he sorted out his emotions, searching for a way to rationalize their connection. It hurt his feelings but he could understand this reaction. What they were doing went against everything he’d ever been taught. Cole was caught up in a cycling belief that this behavior was a defect, at best a sign of mental illness, at worst an irrefutable testament to his inferiority. Aaron couldn’t blame him for these thoughts, it was what everyone else believed as well.

It was different for Aaron. His sexuality was not as much of an issue to him. He had thought about it obsessively, trying to decide what it meant that he could want the touch of another man, that he could so easily disregard the taboo placed on such an act. His conclusion was that it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter when there was so little that was good in his life. The idea that anyone would want to be close to him, would see him as anything other than worthless was too intoxicating to let go.

But he wasn’t completely ready to accept what they were doing either. Sometimes he even hated himself for it, but for different reasons. The thing that gave Aaron pause were the other parts of their relationship, the moments where Cole’s mood shifted, his anger flashed. Sometimes, if circumstances lined up against Aaron— if someone had made a comment to Cole that he didn’t like and he repeated to himself over and over, picking apart the ways they were not only wrong but intentionally stupid, to the point where Aaron rolled his eyes and told him to get over it already, they’d only been high after all; if they had run out of dope and the dealer wasn’t answering; if the wind was too cold or the sun was too bright, sometimes for no reason Aaron could see at all—Cole would snap and strike out at the nearest target. That target was more and more frequently Aaron.

That first time he’d been so shocked, so betrayed he thought it would be the end of him. But that hadn’t happened. Had instead lead to the breakdown of the barrier between them, a positive development in Aaron’s book. The second time he was just as surprised, although looking back maybe he shouldn’t have been. The apology was quick and profuse, Aaron accepted it through a stunned haze. After that, it became nothing more remarkable than any other pattern in his life. It made sense to him that care and pain would be so tied up. In fact, the idea that he could have the first without the second was unimaginable. But in the moments when it happened, the split second before the impact, when he knew it was coming and there was nowhere to run, the expression he saw on Cole’s face was too similar to the one he’d grown up fearing. In those moments he felt sick to his stomach, that he would put himself in this position, that he would seek out the company of a man just like his father. Shouldn’t he be smarter than that? He’d find himself knocked to the ground, his ears ringing as he curled himself into that familiar defensive shape, waiting out the storm so that he could have another chance at feeling the warmth of affection.

At the end of the day, what was one more bruise, really? At least these bruises were accompanied by concern. An awareness of his existence, the kind he’d never gotten at home. Cole noticed when he wasn’t around, noticed when he was slipping too far into his own head. He felt it could almost be considered a fair trade. The good moments at least balanced the bad, if not outweighing them outright. Plus, there were always the drugs to smooth over the rough patches if all else failed. He couldn’t feel a thing as he floated away on the high. Whatever mistakes he’d made over the week, however many times he’d been wrong or in the way, it all disappeared as he accepted the straw handed to him, kneeling over the smoke, as reverent as any penitent seeking absolution.

* In the summer they found themselves with unlimited time to spend together. No classes, no family to interrupt their search for the perfect high. There was no reason to be sober, so he never was, accepting anything that came his way without a second thought. It all melded together in a sleepy numbness, losing track of the days. Time only mattered if he was waiting on his next high, its irritating existence forgotten as soon as he sank back under. When he’d found himself locked out of his home, again (his mother’s new way of expressing her disapproval) he didn’t bother trying to beg her to let him in. He just walked away. He had other places to be now. Places where he could convince himself he was wanted.

Cole took the opportunity of the unstructured days to try something different. At first Aaron was confused when he saw him unwrap the new materials, light reflecting off solid metal rather than the now familiar bits and pieces they had been using to smoke. However, he quickly understood as Cole began to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re not serious.” As lost as he was, Aaron wasn’t sure this was a line he wanted to cross.

Cole barely lifted a shoulder to acknowledge he’d heard anything, too focused on examining his arm for a vein.

“Cole,” his voice tightened, eyes locked on the other boy’s movements. “I don’t know…”

“It’s going to work better,” Cole snapped, irritated that Aaron would question him. He’d thought it out, they were wasting money, his money, and worse, wasting their potential high. This was the obvious next step. “Here,” he tossed a belt at Aaron, “that should help you find one.”

Aaron didn’t move, frozen by conflicting impulses. He was having trouble understanding how he’d gotten here, still disbelieving he could sink so low despite the very real evidence in front of him. But beneath all the anxiety, there was a part of him whispering that Cole was right, that he absolutely wanted this. The prospect of a better high was enticing.

“Hurry up, or I’m doing this without you.”

Aaron chewed on his lip, watching the flame. Cole’s hands were steady, no trace of the tremor Aaron felt in his own. The soft hiss as the dark matter melted was all that he needed to push him to action. He was afraid but that had never mattered, he wasn’t going to miss this.

*

Occasionally, Aaron would surface from his fog, would wonder what Sean was doing, wonder if his mom was okay. He had no idea when he’d last seen them. As much as he resented her for how little she’d done to protect him, he couldn’t be completely unsympathetic when he knew too well what she was up against. If he ever had a passing thought about his father it was only to curse him and wish for his demise to come sooner than later.

Any semblance of a schedule had long since gone out the window. Every day that they could score was a good day to get high. Any day that they couldn’t was a bad day for Aaron. Cole had been right, the high was better with a direct application, but it also meant the lows were meaner. What before had been intermittent bouts of anger, flares of possessiveness when Aaron was out of sight for too long, became all consuming.

His world got smaller.

Aaron stopped going to the places where the rest of the group would hang out. He found it wasn’t worth it to find out what new infraction Cole would imagine, what the consequences might be for accepting a drink or a smoke from the wrong person. It was easier to just stay in the garage, or, if Cole’s mood was too volatile, too many days since their last score, he would wander by himself, back to his old hiding places. When he could think clearly enough he wondered if time was just a circle and he would always find himself back here, hiding from the hands of someone who was supposed to care for him.

Most of the time he didn’t think of anything at all.

* Cole’s birthday arrived in the height of summer, when the days were so long it was hard to believe night would ever fall and the heat so heavy that movement felt like treason. They’d had a stretch of good days, which Aaron tried not to think about too much. He believed that maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t look directly at it, they might continue in this peace. He wasn’t aware that it was Cole’s birthday, only that whatever good mood had settled over them was thankfully continuing.

As they made their slow way back from the liquor store, hauling their supplies of beer and cigarettes and a bag of chips that no one would touch, Cole muttered something under his breath. Aaron, fumbling with a cigarette, finding it annoyingly difficult to coordinate the movements of walking and lighting the end, stopped to manage that and missed the exact words.

“Hmm?” he hummed, unconcerned. He’d woken up to gentle fingers combing his hair that morning and managed to avoid saying the wrong thing. On days like this he could almost imagine he led a normal life.

“It’s my birthday,” he sounded sullen, like he regretted bringing it up in the first place.

Aaron stopped trying to light his cigarette and looked at Cole, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around him. That would not go over well in the middle of the sidewalk. Instead he smiled, unreasonably pleased with this information.

“I guess we have to celebrate then,” he said, starting to walk again, just barely brushing his shoulder against the other boy. It was a little reckless—he could never be sure what kind of reaction he would get when initiating contact. It was usually smarter to let Cole come to him, like a dog with an uncertain temper. Cole drew back a little, but relaxed when Aaron didn’t linger. Instead he stepped to the side and scrupulously put a respectable distance between them.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asked once he was sure he hadn’t crossed any of the wrong lines.

Cole shrugged, “What do we ever do?”

This unenthusiastic response put a slight damper on Aaron’s good mood but no matter. He knew they still had some of their stash leftover, they wouldn’t have to spend the day chasing a dealer. And he would never be disappointed by the prospect of getting high. “Whatever you’d like,” he said simply.

They spent the afternoon lazily drinking beers and smoking in a couple of ancient lawn chairs. Cole’s grandmother had taken a bus to Atlantic City for several days of gambling and inhaling stale cigarette smoke. Aaron liked things best when she went out of town. It almost felt like he and Cole were living together, like adults in their own house. He let his mind run with the fantasy as they sat sweating in the shade. He’d never considered what he might be like as an adult, never thought he’d make it that far. But this, this could be nice. A quiet companionship. Someone to pass him another drink when his ran out. Sure, there were negatives—a persistent risk that he’d say or do the wrong thing and find himself on the shadowed side of a fist but, as far as Aaron could tell, that was just part of life. It couldn’t always be good, but if he could have moments like this, it would be worth it.

Finally, endlessly, the sun set, making only the slightest difference in the temperature. They didn’t move as the color drained from the world around them. Tiny sparks lit up the air, first in ones and twos, until they were surrounded by flashes of life. Aaron tried to spot them all, making wishes like they were shooting stars. Every time it was the same wish: please, let this last.

“I guess it’s time for me to light my candle,” Cole said softly, equally mesmerized by the way the newly visible stars seemed to extend down to them, flickering around their heads. Aaron didn’t reply, just nodded, afraid he might somehow break the spell with his voice. Cole stood and offered him a hand up. He didn’t let go as they walked inside.

An expert now, Cole made short work of setting up their hits. The needle slid seamlessly into a vein, the rush of relief, of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding melted away. They lay back on the bed side by side, just like the first time, motionless as the world spun away from them. Unlike the first time there was no confusion, no concern for what came next, only a feeling that his heart was so full it hurt. He twitched his fingers, trying to find Cole’s hand beside him. He managed to hook his fingers through Cole’s, his skin cool and dry. Eyes closed, Aaron tried to catch his breath, to catch the words that were vibrating through his bones with every pulse of his heart.

“I love you.”

His voice was so thin and he was so high he wasn’t entirely sure he’d said it out loud. Cole didn’t move, didn’t react at all, already deeply lost to the drug. Aaron knew it was better that way. The words felt strange, so foreign. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said them, wasn’t sure he ever had. His consciousness filtered away, trailing the words behind him. He wouldn’t remember saying them in the morning.

chapter seven

[evilzoldyck]

Break the Internet

On slow days like these where assignments were not yet assigned, Shalnark found an effortless way to make use of his time to save himself from unbearable boredom. Surprisingly, looking up valuable and sensitive information of strangers turned out to be more entertaining than he thought. Shalnark could scroll through endless facts without noticing how swiftly the minutes turned into hours. 

Who knew the mayor of Yorknew City had accumulated an obsessive amount of photos hidden in his secret folder on his work computer dedicated to indulge his foot fetish. A plethora of renowned figure he vaguely recognises seemed to have the same tastes, it was also no surprise that these people had paid for sex more than once according to their transaction history. There were a myriad of amusing information he could use to keep himself busy, it was like reading an open book to someone’s inmost secrets, history and relations. 

Though after scrolling through profile after profile, Shalnark couldn’t help but go back to yours. In contrast to many others, you lead an admirable life. An exemplar samaritan from your volunteering efforts, an upstanding citizen contributing to society and a diligent student all the way from middle school to university. This eventually landed you a job as a developmental disability nurse, working with children who were less fortunate and needed assistance. 

How cute.

Though no one could hide and cover their secrets with a good track of records, and unfortunately for you, Shalnark knew your yours. Upon foraging your profile for any information he could acquire, he’d stumble upon the history of your recorded texts shared with your current boyfriend. His eyes widened at the ludicrous amount of contents exchanged consistently back and forth in such a short amount of time. 

However, Shalnark was ecstatic to know that you were a little bit of a freak. 

Numerous pictures and videos of nudes and explicit candid activities shared trustingly with each other. He must admit, your pretty and innocent appearance assisted you to create the perfect facade that threw him off guard. Therefore he would never took you for someone who’d enjoy sexting so much. 

Shalnark clicked on a recent video which instantaneously showed a video cut of your body sprawled on the soft sheets, presumably showing off your lingerie as you slyly pushed your chest forward to show off how the delicate laces hugged your curves and slowly trailed your finger down but never letting the camera falter to follow after it. 

Shalnark seemed to be enjoying it more than he thought, in just a matter of hours he had went through every video you recorded and sent. He couldn’t lie that your actions turned him on, he was left to imagine just how soft your skin would actually be like in real life and how sweet your soft mewls would sound right next to his ear as he fucked you right. 

Though the boyfriend was a problem. Upon further examination, there was a reason to why there was so much lewd content between you and him over texts. Your current partner, Yoji, was working out of town for a huge business project that took months to settle. In the meantime, you both decided to fill the intimacy void obstructed by the physical distance through online social network means. 

As expected, Shalnark wasn’t as intrigued or impressed in comparison to yours upon studying Yoji’s profile. Just an ordinary businessman with a slight dirty records of using tricks such as feigning business formalities and paperworks to launder money. A common plebeian among the sea of crowds, he could never understand how someone like you could be with someone as dull as him.

Though this mini mission of his that he assigned himself should be fairly easy. 

A simple tune emitted from the computer caught your attention from your book you were currently reading to reveal that it was a notification for a video chat from Yoji. Smiling in anticipation you accepted wholeheartedly after making sure to fix yourself up quickly. 

The screen lit up to display the familiar smile and face of your boyfriend. You felt your heart flutter at the sight of him, the distance had taken a toll on your heart and you were eternally grateful that he had even the vestige of time to spare for the both of you every night despite knowing the stress and burden he has from the project. 

“Hey cutie, how was your shift?” He asked, softly smiling from the dark hotel room with the computer screen as the only source of light that slightly made his face visible for you. 

“Tiring as usual but worthwhile,” you replied casually, resting your chin with either of your hand. “How’s the contract coming up? Are things finally wrapping up there?” 

He let out a small sigh before responding back, “it’s getting there.” Immediately you felt guilty, you could see his bloodshot eyes and darkened bags that’s no doubt caused by the accumulated work he’s been facing. “Though can you do me a favour, baby?” 

Perking up immediately you’d gladly do anything to help relieve the slightest bit of tension from your boyfriend. “Anything,” You obediently affirmed as he chuckled a little at your enthusiasm.

“Can you get on the bed,” he instructed slowly. “And fuck yourself for me?” 

His words instantly brought your blood to rush into your cheek, it certainly wasn’t the first time you both did it over FaceTime but it still was an experience you couldn’t get used to without being a little shy. Perhaps the reason behind your apprehension was that because it was a live feed in comparison to the videos and pictures that you carefully rehearse, you were slightly nervous in putting only the best show for him. Nevertheless, you did as he said and made yourself comfortable on the bed while folding your legs to sit on top of them. 

Shalnark smiled pleasingly from the next room over from your boyfriend’s at how willing and compliant you were, though having to masquerade as him was not ideal, he figured he’d have fun and take advantage of the situation before he discarded his toy. 

“Take off your top and let me see you play with your tits,” he muttered as he instructed the order on his phone that currently controlled Yoji’s slowly decaying dead body. 

“Okay,” You tender and shy voice came through from a secondary laptop screen which allowed Shalnark to enjoy the show from the comfort of his own private hotel room and away from detecting any suspicions from you. 

True to your words, you took off your comfortable sweater from the front that revealed your full bare breasts on display for him. Biting your lip, you took both of your hands to your chests slowly, you made sure to send sultry gazes towards him, hoping he was a turned on as much as you were. 

Gently, you began to palm your chest as your tits pebbled from the touch, stimulating warmth that bloomed from the pits of your stomach. Yoji seemed to be enjoying the view as he stared intently at the screen. That gave you a boost of encouragement as you continued to play with yourself, pinching and softly tugging on your nipples which made you whimper and roll your head back.

Shalnark languidly laid back on his chair and began to rub his dick through his shorts, eyes never leaving your form as they caress your breasts prettily. You really did know how to put on a show for him. 

“Take off your shorts and panties.” He ordered once more. With little reluctance from your end, they were discarded within a moment, leaving you completely vulnerable for his viewing pleasure. “Spread your legs and play with yourself.” 

Feeling yourself get even wetter by his demanding decree, you spread your thighs to allow him to look at your glistening pussy. You loved entertaining with the idea of subjecting yourself to him, knowing he loved it when you do as he says, even though he didn’t completely have control over you.

Reaching down to collect the copious amount of slick fluid leaking from your cunt, you trailed it along your slit before rubbing soft circles around your clit making you jolt in pleasure. You felt your hardened little nub making contact with your delicate touches as it easily slipped from your lubricant. 

“That’s great, honey,” he breathed out. “But spread it a bit more.”

“Like this?” You asked meekly, one hand behind your back to support yourself from falling down as you spread your thighs more open. 

Shalnark’s dick was already out by this point from the confinement of his trousers as he stroked it painfully slow as to match your pace. His eyes couldn’t bear to leave the screen as you displayed your pretty cunt so openly to him, teasing it with your tiny fingers making him want to reach through the screen and show you how much better his would feel. With one hand still gripping onto his device, he typed in another order.

“Yeah, now put a finger in.” 

Panting slightly, you reached down and slowly entered a single digit, letting your cunt to squeeze around your finger as you moaned at the intrusion. 

“Y-Yoji! Ahh...” your head lolled back when your walls closed in on you, making you rub on a very special spot that sent your senses flying. In haste, you added another finger in as you continued to play with yourself and you noticed Yoji’s eyes never faltered from the screen, watching you slip your fingers in and out.

“Does it feel good, baby?” You nodded lightly at his words. “Can you rub your pussy faster for me? I want to see you fuck yourself harder...” 

“Mmh!...” you cried as you sped up your fingers. It felt so surreal, you could feel yourself almost touching the stars at this point. Your eyes were hazed in the image of your boyfriend as your mind were only clouded by carnal desires. You’ve never felt so good every time you did this with him, it made you all the more excited to see him in the next upcoming week for when he gets back. 

Feeling your walls clenching onto your fingers, you knew you were near your end soon. “I-I’m getting close...” you whined out, “I’m going to cum, Yoji!” 

“Stop.” 

You let out a dumb, “huh?” in response. He would seldom stop you just before you reached your peak so this was a slight surprise.

“Reach into the drawer for your dildo, I know that’s where you keep them.” Blushing profusely, you nevertheless acquiesced and promptly took the small pink toy in your hand. “Now fuck and play with it.”

You glared at him through the screen but that front shattered as you felt the head enter into your warm, plush cunt. At this point you’ve nearly turned yourself inside out. “Y-yoji! Ohh...” you moaned at the snug fit as you got it all the way inside, arching your back in pleasure as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Feels nice doesn’t it, babe?” Too high off of pleasure you hummed blissfully in return. 

Grabbing the base you continued the pace you were with your fingers, no longer having any patience to draw out your orgasm any longer. The room was filled with your wanton moans and debauched sighs as well as the promiscuous sounds of your slick with the toy no doubt coming through to the audio. 

“I’m so c-close!” You managed to whimper out. “Let me cum Yoji- please! Let me cum!”

“Say the magic words.”

“F-fuck! Ahh...” sweat beads ran down the back of your spine at this point. “I love you! I wish you were h-here... fucking me instead- god! I miss you so much, I think a-about you every day, I want you here with me always!” 

“Good.”

With his word, you felt your hot, soft walls closing hard around the pink toy and squirt out a gratuitous amount of fluids, coating your thighs and sheets with it. Your mind was blank as you felt yourself so stimulated that you worry your body could couldn’t handle this much force. Gripping the sheets tightly through your orgasm, you cried out in pleasure as you fell backwards with your toes and back curled naturally. 

Shalnark’s hands were now already coated with his thick cum, smiling exuberantly at your fun and cute little adventure. Well, now he guess was the time to pull down the curtains and reveal himself. After all, his puppet broke, he has no use for him anymore. 

Panting out to catch your breath, you laid on the side to face the screen and smiled tiredly. 

“How was I?” You asked sheepishly. Yoji’s face turned blank for a moment before dropping his head down to the keyboard harshly. 

“Yoji?!” You cried out in desperation and fear as you sat up in shock. What on earth just happened? You saw a little sword like needle pinned itself on the back of his head and before you could make sense of it the screen went black before revealing a jubilant young man with a smile seemingly etched onto youthful face.

“That was more than amazing!” He joyfully cheered. 

Quickly you grabbed a hold of your blanket to make yourself somewhat decent in front of this strange pervert. 

“Aww,” he whined at the lack of skin that you covered. “Why are you suddenly acting shy on me now?” Pouting in indignation as if you suddenly took away a toy he was playing with. 

“Who are you? What did you do to Yoji?” You’ve no doubt this man was behind it all. 

He sighed out your name nonchalantly and replied exasperatedly, “he’s already dead so I wouldn’t get too worried about it, I’ll just take over his position.” He giggled boyishly. “How about it? You seem like your in need of a new boyfriend since your last one is... you know...” he cringed and pretended to slice his head with own his hand. 

“You’re crazy if you don’t think I’m not going to report you!” Crying in defiance as you felt tears starting to fill your eyes.

“But then it’d be a shame if your private home movie went viral,” He grimly implied as the screen changed into you fucking yourself silly on the bed. Somehow this creep had managed to record every single second of your lewd activity. You gasped horrifyingly, feeling the said tears now dropping into your hot cheeks. 

“What would your family think? Your colleagues? Your bosses? Don’t you work with children?” He placed a finger on his chin pretending to think hard. “I’d imagine it to be quite hard to find a job if something like this went pub-“

“Just stop,” you sobbed out pathetically as you turned to face him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Meet me at your favourite cafe tomorrow at noon.” Smiling innocently despite the tenebrous tension between the two of you.  When you didn’t say anything, too defeated and scared to utter out a word, he took your silence as a tacit comply as his smile seemingly began to widened.

“Great, it’s a date!”

[glumpiglet]

Beetlejuice meeting his S/O and shes a ghost?

Hi..Thank you for the request.. I had a lot of fun with this one.. It really got away from me lol I hope you like it <3 to those who requested I havent forgotten about you, it’s just easier for me to write on the weekend when I’m not working. K love you guys

Warning: bit of swearing.. basic beej innuendos... thats it.

If you had known that when you woke up that Wednesday, it would have been your last day alive, you probably would have done so not hungover. Stumbling out of bed, sheets still clutching at your legs, you swore at the morning sun shining once again for the high, wide windows in all the bedrooms. It was on the list to replace the sheer curtains, but fabric that long was hard to find and not cheap to buy.

When Great Aunt Gerdy left you her house, the only wish she had was to ‘preserve, protect, and breath life back into Windflew Manor.’

Sweet, naive Gertrude. Spun of sugar more than flesh, your great aunt had been the youngest of twelve and definitely your favourite family member. Growing up, you fondly remembered spending summers here, riding your bike through the halls on rainy days, playing ‘Pirates and Rogues’ in the backyard with Gerdy and her children.

When you got older you begged to still come to the Manor; Gertrude watched you grow and in her own mind, Auntie Gerdy had assumed you would follow the steps of the women in your family, hunker down with a fine man, pop out some kids every few years.

As you said, Gertrude was tragically naive. Never had the heart to ever tell her the truth. That marriage….Children? Had never even entered the equations of goals. You wanted a spontaneous, fun life full of breakable things. Adventure. 

But also it was known that if you didn’t take this house, it would have gone to an auction. It broke your heart the way her children acted, their mother was one of the greatest women you had ever met, a role model. It was what she wanted. You couldn’t do that to Aunt Gerdy. So with hesitant determination, you had set about restoring Windflew Manor.

Due to funds, you were forced to do most of the work, getting help for a few handier friends. But it had been coming along nicely, room by room the cobwebs and mold were disappearing. It was satisfying work.  

Resting your head against the shower wall, however, you didn’t think you could find the strength to tackle the gardens today. It was all your friend's fault, ‘one more drink (Y/N), we’ve worked so hard!’ 

Exiting the shower, wiping the fog from the mirror, you reflected on how tired the image looked as you moisturized, changing into comfy shorts and a tank top without bothering to properly dry yourself. It was a warm day and you liked the cool moisture mixed with the lotion slicking your skin.

Just as you began brushing your teeth, the doorbell rang multiple times. Who the hell was that this early in the morning? The sound came again, more insistent and you had to roll your eyes.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Hold your horses..” Sprinting down the hallway, trying to steady on the banister, you felt the gravity shift as your feet slid across the hardwood.

You supposed everyone would lament your damned clumsiness, your carelessness. Imprinted on the skin, you held the reminders of how prone to accidents you had been. It had been a joke in the family for years. ‘(Y/N) is gonna kill herself one day!’ 

It was only a matter of time. 

Swing your hand wildly, nothing could be gripped as you felt yourself swinging forward, hurdling towards the twenty-six flight of stairs that as a child, never it was considered it would have spelled your end….  

**

Turns out, it had been nothing more than a neighbor, wanting to let you know the street sweepers would be out tomorrow. 

Life was funny that way. 

Watching in dull horror as the EMT’s took your body away, trying to process the following information.. It came to you so obviously even though it sounded crazy: You weren’t having some out of body experience… You hadn’t taken any hallucinogenic drugs lately.. You were dead. 

Thinking about what the afterlife would have been: Heaven, Hell, Purgatory…. Haunting Auntie’s empty house had not been on the top of the list. 

Time was meaningless now, you could look at the grandfather clock and see two p.m and look five minutes later and see eleven a.m. it was always cold. You cursed not wearing something warmer than your p.j’s that last morning, not that you thought it would have helped. 

Going outside had been a big no-no. Whatever fucked up colossal worm creature had been out there when you tried the one time to leave, was obviously meant to be keeping you here. So here you stayed.

It could have been only a day you spent dead and lonely in the house. Or a week. A month. Years. You were being a little dramatic, you knew it hadn’t been years. Friends and family came by, grieving openly, making your heartbreak; and removing all your items, which was even worse. Obviously to be sold off or stored in your old room. A time capsule.

On one of the many days that found you aimlessly wandering the halls, a book fell before you without pretense. Equal parts startled and puzzled, well as much as a ghost could be, you picked it up.  

‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased..’

Gripping the pages, intent to open, you were halted as your front door swung open. A dozen or so handsome, young men carrying multiple packed things burst into Aunt Gerdy’s foyer, laughing and chatting loudly.  

“Aw, dude this place is awesome!”

“Look at all the space!”

“Get that pong table over there!”

“What the fuck!?”

Stomping forward, you were about to raise your voice louder before you stopped yourself….Right, stupid... They couldn’t see you… The whole ‘being dead thing’.

Watching in impotent rage as they slammed their things on the hardwood floor, scuffing their sneakers on the expensive carpets you had saved every penny for…

This was not good. Not good at all.

**

You had been right.

It wasn’t hard to not like these kids. You weren’t really into the whole ‘boys would be boys’ excuse for male idiocy in their youths. 

You didn’t like the way they treated each other, the archaic ‘hazing’ they would often do leaving you feeling ill. You didn’t like the way they treated the girls they used and laughed as they were forced down the traditional ‘walk of shame’ making you furious.

You especially did not like the way they treated the Manor. It was terrible, gaudy streamers and tacky posters were pinned to the walls. Daily parties...Keggers…. Were held here, the place was a war zone. Litter and garbage cluttered every hall and you were beginning to tear your hair out in helplessness. 

They had turned your Aunt’s treasured home and your hardworking project into a frat house. It was just rude.

What were you gonna do? Time passed and you watched as the house grew further and further into decay when a lightbulb burst unexpectedly. 

Realizing your answer, you hoped the discarded handbook was still where you had dropped it. Returning to the living room, you sighed in relief at seeing the odd-looking text where you left it. Walking up to it, however, you noticed something there that wasn’t there before. 

A card, dusty, and sticking out of a random page. Bending down you began pulling at it, fingering the worn edges. You lifted it up into the light, trying to read it under all the dirt caked on. On the card, it just said one word three times, strangely compelled you said it out loud.

“Betelgeuse… Betelgeuse…. Betelgeuse?”

The burst of smoke made you hack instantly, it was like someone smoked weed in an embalming room, pungent and eye-watering. 

It was a man. Well, no. Not a human man in any case. Duh. You would say this was the weirdest thing to ever happen to you, but nothing was normal after you died apparently.

Observing as he waved his hands, stepping out of the cloud, you couldn’t help the widening of your eyes...He was.. Definitely interesting looking.. 

“Geez, did I come late to the party or what-… Woah.”  

He looked awful and smelt even worse, and why the hell was he here?

The… Character that stepped had gone silent. Awkward and stilted, you struggled to speak. It couldn’t help being noticed his... Hair was changing colour… Most certainly going from an almost neon green to baby pink…. What was he? 

“Don’t be afraid. You’re dead. I am also dead.” There was a moment before an incredulous giggle escaped your lips, you couldn’t help but realize it had been the first time you laughed since.. Well..

“Yeah, I figured that. From... You know… Seeing my dead body get taken away.” The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the silence deafening. 

Before he pounced. Flouncing over in a comical manner, he began to circle you, the humour disappearing from you at the look in his eye. 

“Huh, that line usually doesn’t work.. You’re surprisingly calm..” Turning your head until you couldn’t anymore, you swiveled striving for eye contact. He completed his journey around and stood in front of you, seeming to be searching for something. Before he held his grimey hand out…. The intense desire to hesitate held you still. 

It didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest.

“Hello! A pleasure to meetcha-” Leaning forward, you realized in just enough time what he was doing before he could press his lips to yours, jumping back. 

“Uh, excuse me!?” 

“Can’t blame a demon for trying, babes. Anyways uh… What can I do for you?” He fidgeted with his jacket, pulling at the cuffs and flapping the lapels, wafting his stench towards you making you gag. Covering your nose you murmured beyond belief.

“What do you mean?”

“Well usually I only get called when someone needs something from me….. Bio-exorcism. Homicide. Sexual pleasure. I do it all.” This guy couldn’t actually be serious… You shook your head, none of this was helping. You had gone to the book for an answer and had only gotten even more questions. 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about dude, I just found this card in this book. Anyways, what is happening right now? Who are you and why can you see me?”

Snickering, he continued to very eagerly invade your personal space and it was getting harder to find the space in the living room. The predator was cornering.

“You said my name, sexy. You called me.” 

What kind of name was Betelgeuse? Deciding immediately to shorten it for ease, you opened your mouth but apparently, he was on a roll, and continued. 

“And I already told you.. We’re dead. Deceased. Post Mortem.” Bumping into the wall, just hearing the words from someone else’s lips made you stop… Well, dead. Pun intended. Before they could be halted tears were gathering in your eyes… You weren’t even that emotional about it anymore, had already spent endless nights sobbing about what-ifs and regrets...Not for a while, still, it never got any easier to think about. 

Trying and failing miserably to hide the sniffles, you peered at BJ’s surprised expression. 

“Shit...shit..shit. I didn’t mean to do that…. Don’t cry,” Wiping at stubborn tears that fell against your wishes, you could see BJ shuffle his feet, looking extremely uncomfortable at your sudden breakdown. You tried to calm him, ironically.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just… Not been that great so far... Sometimes I think I might be in hell.” Staring at the ground, you had the overwhelming wish once again for it to finally swallow you whole and take you where you belonged.

“Is it… Your current occupants?”

“It certainly doesn’t help.” Looking up at BJ’s tilted head and rapt expression, the need to confide was making you continue.

“My Aunt left me this house and… I’ve hated seeing what they're doing to it.” BJ looked to be contemplating something before he spoke.

“I could help you.”

You looked at him “What do you mean?”

“I told you.. Again... Sweetheart, you’re smokin’ hot but your memory’s shit. I’m a Bio-exorcist. Getting breathers out is my forte. Well, most breathers can’t see me… But I can teach you! Breathers are waay more likely to see a ghost than a demon.” Riveted by what he was saying, you didn’t realize his pursuit until you felt his grip sound your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmm… Get you in a little school uniform.. Give you extra credit...” Blatantly ignoring him, focusing on the important part of what he said. 

“What you’re saying is we can get these kids out of here?”

“Of course babes. I take my job very seriously.” Shooting him an incredulous look, you managed to extract from him without much ease, he was really touchy for someone you just met.

“Yeah, I noticed…”

This was insanity. You weren’t actually considering letting this.. Demon?! To teach you how to scare the young men living in your house. It was dangerous and crazy.

Even more, there was no other option. Desperate times.

“Then you’re hired,”

“Oh, this is gonna be so good!” Once again having to duck away from his advance, you pressed a hand to the dirty front of his suit, holding him at bay.

“Stop that,”

“Hmm... Playing hard to get, I respect that.”

Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

**

In hindsight, it worked out perfectly. Beej, as he had assured, was very good at his job. Just because that job entailed scaring the shit out of anyone and anything around him shouldn’t be held against him. 

Once again, incredulously if you had known in your life that your love of horror movies would have come in handy in your afterlife, you would have paid much more attention.  

Beej was impressed with your novice skill. The voice throwing came naturally to you, and your favourite trick was hiding in the corner of one of their bedrooms, positioning your arms and legs at odd angles and whispering to the sleeping boys, stifling giggles as they awoke, petrified and flew downstairs, waking everyone else in the house.

None of them could actually see you, but you had sworn the one redheaded one had locked eyes in the bathroom mirror, the two of you paused before the urge to scare rapidly left and the need to leave arose. Walking out the bathroom his eyes had definitely followed. 

He never told his friends about it, but BJ had said he watched him lay awake more than one night, clutching his sheets a little too tight. 

Possession was something you felt was unnecessary. Beej had often offered to uh.. Show you how it worked but the thought of BJ well.. Inside of you… It made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if it was from repulsion or excitement.

BJ was.. Unexpected in the best way. Devilishly Intelligent. Hilarious and.. You saw glimpses of his sweetness. He bashfully gave you dead flowers from the garden and was constantly sending you praises that would make you blush if you still had blood. How beautiful you were, how great of a scarer you were…. After getting over the whole stink thing, he was really cute and you might have been... Falling for him. Just the thought made you terrified. 

It all came to an end gradually. It was unexpected, you thought it would have been some big final fright, using all of your cunning ghostly powers. But no, one by one they just disappeared. Claiming to be moving back with family, dropping out, or simply leaving for ‘reasons’.

On the day you stood in the kitchen, now empty save for a few left behind appliances, the beaming smile sent to BJ couldn’t be contained.

“We did it.”

“You did it, babes. I was uh- Just along for the ride, I guess.”

Shifting closer to him, you saw with amusement Beej staring at your lips. The BJ of before would have taken your closeness as an immediate seduction, trying his luck. Now the fact he was trying to control himself, made your heart swell. 

The moment was broken by the sound of the front door opening, you held your breath to see who, or what entered.

A beautiful couple entered, followed by an obvious real estate agent, discussing the house. The couple seemed too good to be true, polite, and awed at the house. Seeing the little bundle of a baby tucked in the mother’s arm as they continued their inspection. You supposed in a way Aunt Gertrude had gotten her wish. And that could be enough.

You turned to Beej watching the scene with an odd countenance.   

“Thank you BJ, really. I’ve had a lot of fun.” You finally noticed. There was purple in his hair, something was making him sad.

“Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye?” 

Oh. oh.

Struggling to answer him, you watched as he further sank in himself. “I read the book, BJ..The Netherworld… Shouldn’t I be…”

“Not yet! Once you get there… We won’t be able to see each other this much... Haven’t we been having fun?” 

“Of course but-”

“Don’t leave!” His voice was frantic, higher-pitched than you ever heard, you couldn’t find the words to calm him.

“Please! I’ll… I’ve been looking into something…” The moment took the oddest turn when Beej practically flew to his knees, reaching out to you to clasp your hands between his before clearly speaking two words you never imagined him saying.

“Marry me.”

The words shocked you. Scandalized, you said the one thing you could.

“Beetlejuice!” That wasn’t it, the look on his face broke you. It was pitiful, desperate.

“No nonono say something else babes, let me explain!” You reached out, stroking his stubble as his giant, golden eyes glittered at you with so many emotions swirling.

“I’m not gonna send you away Beej, stop please.” Taking deep breaths between you, the urge to sink to the floor with him ran over you. Somewhere in your mind you realized how stupid this was, two ghosts having a panic attack in the kitchen, but weirder things have happened.

“If I… Marry a breather. I get brought to life. So I’ve been thinking..” Beej was asking to marry you.. Could ghosts and demons even get married? Would you have a wedding? Invite other ghosts to the ceremony?

“I don’t know BJ… We don’t even know if it will work,” You hadn’t said ‘no’ yet. At the moment, you couldn’t find the desire to do so. You liked Beej, it was the little things in death you realized that mattered. 

“What have we got to lose?.. I thought..”

Looking at him, on the floor with you. Overwhelmed with affection, you leaned forward, noting with glee Beej’s astonishment. Kissing the ghost with the most was... Everything and nothing what you expected. His tasted like cigarettes and dirt, still you leaned into him more.

The one thing that could make death totally rad. Being with him. He was absolutely right. Pulling away, looking at his blissed out face, eyes staying closed, you gave him your answer. 

“Yes. Okay. I’ll marry you.”