#looking for any inch of ANYTHING to look down upon so they never hafta feel the ways they feel lesser than

[snekdood]

what do ppl who want me to feel the cringe they feel about me want me to do, exactly? like, why exactly do you need that? is it just for like. some weird affirmation that you can make yourself feel better than someone by trying to make them feel lesser than? bc quite honestly i dont wanna give you the satisfaction lol. stay thirsty for it though ig.

[agoldengalaxy]

What It Means to Be a Friend

read on Ao3

It’s getting late, and Kyoko is expecting Makoto to return home soon. But what she isn’t expecting is to receive a call from her drunk friends, Makoto among them.

--

Kyoko sometimes wished she didn’t have a phone. It was a distraction, and one she certainly didn’t need; but then again, the only times it ever rang or received messages was when it was important. Tonight was no exception, it seemed.

It was nearing one in the morning, but she was still working; partly because a detective always had work to do, and partly because Makoto had not returned home yet. It wasn’t like she was worried, though. Despite his open nature and naïvety, he was tougher than he looked. It was something she loved about him, among a lot of other things that she wouldn’t be caught dead admitting out loud.

As she was about to reach for her phone to check the time, it began ringing, buzzing loudly against her wooden desk. Picking it up with a frown, she saw a name across the top. Aoi Asahina. About a hundred different possibilities as to why she could be calling swirled around Kyoko’s mind, and she didn’t like the way fear gripped at her heart even if her face stayed blank. She hated the way that she always just expected the worst, but how could she not?

Exhaling slowly, she pressed a gloved finger to the answer button, lifting the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Kyokoooo!” Hina exclaimed, much too loudly for her liking. “Yay, you answered!”

Kyoko felt a headache coming on. She was...way more energetic than usual. “Hina. Are you drunk?”

A beat passed, and then she giggled. “Awww, man, you guessed it! Guess that’s expected of the Ultimate - hic! - Detective!”

A loud voice, distant but still recognizable, most likely stood right beside her. “Ha, Byakuya said you wouldn’t answer, we proved ‘em wrong! Nice!” A slapping sound that could have only been a high five, and a triumphant, slurring Yasuhiro on the end of it.

It wouldn’t even take a detective for her to realize why they had called in the first place. “Let me speak to Makoto.”

“Yeah, okay, just -” She was greeted with a lot of rustling as Hina no doubt struggled with the phone she was holding. “Crap! Okay, Makoto, sit up, c’mon! Be nice to your girlfriend or she won’t take us home!”

Just as she’d assumed. Kyoko closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. More rustling. And then an overexcited voice. “Kyoko? Is that you?!” he asked, hope lacing his tone.

“Yes, it’s me. You don’t have to put the receiver so close to your mouth, Makoto.” She wasn’t one to use pet names often, and she’d certainly rather not do it now, in case Hiro and Hina were listening; but then again, it’s not like they’d remember come morning. “Where’s Byakuya?”

“Uh…” he droned on for a few moments while he most likely looked around for him.

“Hate to break it to ya, but he’s also had a little bit of fun!” Hina exclaimed, giggling to herself, joined by Hiro, who laughed as she continued. “Been sitting at the bar all this time and ignoring us. He’s still so mean, I thought he’d at least hang out with us now!”

“Yeah, well, I think he’s been trying to drown out Toko...come to think of it, where is -”

“She’s over there,” Makoto said matter-of-factly, and the three of them fell silent for a moment.

Kyoko blinked, still processing the beginning of this call. “What? What happened?”

“She’s passed out next to him,” Hina explained, words long and dragged out as if to get the message across clearer. There was silence for a moment, and then she huffed. “Can you please come pick us up, Kyoko? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?!”

Before she could respond, there was more rustling. “Please come, I don’t wanna be stuck here all night. I miss you,” Makoto whined, still much too close to the speaker, but even so, Kyoko wasn’t bothered. Her heart fluttered in the way that only Makoto Naegi could accomplish.

Letting out a long sigh, she stood up from her desk. “Fine. Send me your location.” And with that, she hung up before she could receive a response. After throwing on her jacket and grabbing her keys, she was on the road.

Gloved hands gripped the steering wheel as she stared straight ahead at the street. It wasn’t like she was inhuman; she certainly wasn’t going to trust Byakuya to get them home safely if he’d also been drinking, and thanks to a certain hopeful individual, she...considered them all to be her friends. Together they had escaped Hope’s Peak, and together they were still working to combat despair.

But this was why she couldn’t trust them on their own. She was surprised about Byakuya, but not about the rest of them. Maybe it had been a hard day at the Foundation? Well then, it must’ve been a bad time for her to have a day off.

What was done was done, though, she supposed. Nothing could change it, and perhaps she’d get some solid answers tomorrow. For now, she thought, as she pulled into the parking lot, she had to focus on getting her friends home to sleep off their intoxication. She braced herself, got out of the car, and headed inside.

The bar was one she didn’t recognize, but it was brightly lit and quite loud, as expected. She would never understand the appeal of a place full of sweaty, intoxicated people with anger issues, but then again, she was different from a lot of people and not what one would consider to be ‘normal.’ Of course, it didn’t take long for her to find who she had come for; after all, they didn’t exactly fit in with everyone else, so to speak. “Kyoko!” She turned to look, only to have the wind almost knocked out of her as someone ran into her - someone with familiar messy brown hair, face pressed into her neck, his arms tight around her torso. “I missed you so much!”

Despite the fact that she should be annoyed that she had to come and pick all of them up at one in the morning, she had to fight to keep the smile off of her face as she returned the hug lightly. “It’s only been a few hours, Makoto.”

“I don’t care,” he said, pulling away enough to look up at her. His eyes were almost completely dilated, and he was looking at her like she was an ethereal being...and if she was being honest, that wasn’t too far off from how he looked at her when he was sober, too. As much as she hated to admit it, he always filled her stomach with butterflies. “I never want you to have a day off again!”

He was slurring his words, and she knew he didn’t mean it in the way that sentence would normally be implied. All she could do now was be patient. “...We’re together now, right? So there’s no need to be upset, dear.” The name...sort of slipped out. Luckily it seemed to make Makoto feel a lot better, and no one had heard her quiet voice. Perhaps his luck had rubbed off on her.

Reaching down, he took her hand and walked alongside her; once again, she was lucky that he was able to walk straight, though his hand gripped hers like iron. Her scars no longer hurt, so she was just grateful he was walking on his own. As for the  others, she could only hope Makoto’s luck had rubbed off on them, too. Anything to make this as smooth as possible.

Hina and Hiro were excitedly playing a game of ping pong, but they were doing terribly; slow reaction time, missing the ball by many inches, and stumbling against the table itself. Definitely drunk. She raised her voice. “Hey. Let’s go.”

“Kyoko!” Hina exclaimed, as the ball bounced up and bonked Hiro on the head, who let out a very loud profanity. “Sorry, sorry!” She dropped the paddle and sauntered up to her friend, beaming. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, I knew it!”

“Of course I came,” she responded calmly, her voice completely level and the total opposite of the rest of her friends. “It’s time to go.”

Hiro groaned, rubbing his head as he came to stand beside Hina. “Do we hafta…?” Upon receiving a cold glare from the detective, he gulped. “O-Okay, okay!”

Looking at Makoto, she exhaled slowly. “Where are Byakuya and Toko?”

Frowning, glazed eyes scanned the bar, then he pointed with his free hand. “There.”

Sure enough, sitting with his cheek in his hand and a glass (presumably now filled with water, considering the messy hair and rosy cheeks - the bartender must have cut him off) was Byakuya, and beside him was Toko, her arms folded on the bar and her head buried within them. This was where things would get difficult. Unwittingly, she squeezed Makoto’s hand and the four of them walked over.

Straightening up, she frowned down at Byakuya, who was inspecting the ice in his glass. “Let’s go.”

He blinked, unfocused eyes looking up to hers, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “So you did show up,” he scoffed, though his tone wasn’t as terribly frustrating as it normally was. “I’m surprised.”

“I’m not here to make conversation. You’re drunk. Let’s go.”

“So, Kyoko’s in charge now, hm?” he sneered, trying to get to his feet. He stumbled and had to use the bar for support, which took away any sort of credibility from his threat. This time, she didn’t bother trying to hide her smirk.

“Yes, I am, because you’re too drunk to stand. Let’s go.” The progeny grumbled something under his breath but didn’t protest. With the hard part out of the way, she walked over to Toko, shaking her shoulders gently. “Hey. Wake up, we’re leaving.”

The girl groaned, but opened her eyes anyway. Immediately, she frowned. “Kyoko…?” Dazedly, she sat up, managing to glare at Makoto. “D-Don’t stare at me like that…!”

“Be quiet. Let’s get going,” Byakuya huffed, and immediately Toko fell silent.

Just as Kyoko had hoped. It had been difficult, but she knew her friends well enough, and it seemed her luck hadn’t completely run out just yet. Although some stumbled and tripped over their own feet, everyone was able to walk themselves to Kyoko’s car. Makoto, though, still held onto her hand.

After a bit of difficulty, everyone crammed themselves into the backseat. Makoto sat in the passenger’s seat alongside her, and after checking her mirror, she pulled out onto the road. She drowned out the arguing coming from the backseat and checked the time blinking red against her radio. Two a.m. already. The last thing she wanted to do was drive around for another hour and drop everyone else off. They’d have to make themselves comfortable in hers and Makoto’s small apartment.

She glanced toward him as she stopped at a red light, taking in his features. His cheeks were pinker than usual, he looked tired, and he’d been trying to hide very obvious glances toward her throughout the whole car ride. She’d always called him ‘foolishly open’, and while she still agreed with that statement...she no longer felt it was such a bad thing. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she reached to take his hand with her other hand, returning her gaze to the road before she could see the expression on his face.

Finally, she pulled the car up to their building, and even she couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh of relief. “You’re all staying here tonight,” she explained, making it clear that this was not a request. No one seemed to be too upset by the idea, thankfully, and she carefully got out to go unlock the door. As she turned, she noticed her friends slowly making their way to the door, stumbling around like mindless zombies.

“Ow! You stepped on my foot!” Toko hissed.

Hiro laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. “Sorry, my bad!”

“Would you two shut up?”

“You don’t have to be so mean all the time, Byakuya!” Hina hushed, then immediately stopped in her tracks.

“Hina? You okay?” Makoto asked, and everyone else stopped as well.

The swimmer paled, then ran toward the nearest bush, doubling over to vomit all the alcohol she had consumed.

“Eugh! Gross!”

“Oh, come on, Hiro, we all do it!”

Kyoko sighed quietly, opening the door and nudging it open further with her hip. At least Hina hadn’t gotten it all over her wooden floors. “Come on, let’s leave her alone for now.” Without waiting for a response, she headed inside, expecting them to follow, and went to the couch. There was a pull out bed, but it was certainly not big enough for four people. That, though, wasn’t really her problem; after all, they were the ones who got drunk beyond any of their inhibitions. She pulled it out, then turned to the others, who were staring blankly. “Figure it out for yourselves. I’ll go get some blankets.”

As she gathered a couple of their extra blankets, she heard some arguments, but none of them were heated. As she expected, they were certainly getting tired and no longer had any energy to fight with each other. When she came back to the living room, she found Hiro already sprawled out, snoring on the floor, Byakuya sitting on the edge of the bed, and Toko curled up on the floor, too. She wasn’t going to ask how they came to this conclusion, and instead just walked forward, covering Hiro with one of the blankets and handing one to both Byakuya and Toko.

And then she realized Makoto was missing.

She sighed and walked to the door, peering outside. Her hunch had been correct; he was crouching beside Hina, who was now on all fours in the grass and shaking a little. He was definitely talking to her, trying to help her through it. A while ago, she might have been jealous by the sight, but...that was just her Makoto. That was how he was. He cared too much, even when he himself was just as drunk as Hina was.

Crossing the yard, Kyoko crouched down on the other side of Hina. “Are you finished?”

Pale and sweaty, she lifted her face to look up at her, then nodded slightly. “I-I think so.”

“Good. Let’s get you to bed.” Taking her arm gently, she pulled her to her feet, glancing at Makoto, who had a small smile on his face. Kyoko ignored it for the time being and guided Hina inside. Together they stepped over Hiro. “Byakuya. Move over.”

“What? No, I -”

“Move.” He grumbled and scooted over a little. With that, Kyoko sat Hina down on the other side of the bed. “I’m sorry this is all we have.”

Hina nodded, giving a small, guilty smile. “Thanks, Kyoko. Really. I’m sorry about all this.”

“It’s fine,” she assured her, surprising even herself with her gentle tone. “Just get some sleep.” Nodding, the swimmer slowly lay down, and Kyoko glanced toward Makoto, who looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up. She smiled to herself now, knowing nobody was looking, and walked over to him. “Come on.”

Together they walked to their bedroom, with him stumbling a couple times and her easily catching him. She figured it would be pointless for him to try changing his clothes, so she just let him lay down while she went to get ready for bed. Of course, by the time she emerged from the bathroom, he was already fast asleep - or so she thought. She turned off the light and crawled into bed beside him, nestling close. He was always warm, and it was always a comfort to her.

“Mm...Kyoko,” he mumbled, surprising her. She looked up, seeing his eyes still closed, just barely holding onto consciousness.

“Yes?”

He moved to pull her close, and she didn’t protest. “Thanks. You’re amazing.”

She smiled against his chest, closing her eyes. “Of course.”

With the alcohol in his system, it didn’t long for him to drift off. And surprisingly for her, she wasn’t very far behind.

[betelgeuse-boo]

WARNING: NSFW !!! If you are a minor or someone who does not want to see smut, please scroll past this post!!! Thank you!

Extensive Info/Warnings: Fellatio, 69, very slight mentions of musk, Beetlejuice using gross words like “puke” but only for one sentence (reader does not throw up in the story lol)

Reader Gender: AMAB and masculine pet names

Request from @hellminth , “I would love an inexperienced/nervous male reader being taught how to give a blowjob by beej”

I will try my very best on this!!! I do not have a weiner so I apologize if I get anything wrong!!

Words: 2575

----

“Reader’s First Blowjob”

Despite being in your mid 20’s, you had never given anyone head before. Not that you didn’t want to, per se, not even that you were a virgin or anything- it had just never come up with anyone you had been with for some reason or another. The idea of giving someone head was appealing, but when you had turned 22 without ever having done it, you sort of threw the fantasy out the window, finding yourself too vastly inexperienced to truly pleasure your partner. 

Yet here you were, laying on your tummy, Beetlejuice sitting up with his legs splayed next to your face, his slightly tattered striped boxers still on. One of his hands was resting on your head, his clawed digits lightly scratching at it. The matter of you not ever having given a blowjob had come up in conversation before, and he nearly did a spit take with the juice he was drinking when you had told him. Of course, smug bastard that he was, he did a fair amount of teasing you over it, calling you his “innocent little boyfriend”. Yeah right, you both knew that was far from the truth. 

“We can always arrange to give you a first time though,” The green haired demon said with a wink, and while you had laughed and pushed him away, it got you thinking. Maybe you did want to try? You had been with Beej for so long, and you were completely comfortable with him, so maybe it would be worth at least trying out. After all, it was impossible to get embarrassed around the stinky bug man you had grown so accustomed to.

...Or so you thought before, but as you sat there on your belly, face flushed, you weren’t too sure. Beej picked up on this and ever so slightly lifted your head to look at you.

“You getting cold feet, babe? We don’t hafta’ do this, it’s okay.” It always surprised you how respectful of boundaries he was during actual sexually intimate moments considering that he was not any other time. 

“It’s not that,” You started, tearing your gaze away from the green-eyed ghost. “I just...I guess I’m scared of embarrassing myself?”

“Pff,” Beetlejuice scoffed, and you could feel spit droplets hit your face. As you were wiping them away, he continued. “Like you could embarrass yourself in front of me.” When he saw that wasn’t helping, he groaned. “Listen, we’re gonna’ take it slow, okay? Even if you- I’unno, gag or puke or whatever, I’m not gonna’ hold anything against ya’. I’m just gonna’ laugh my ass off and that’ll be it!” What a way with words. You had to admit, though, that did aid in comforting you, and with a newfound gusto, you nodded up at him, resolute. 

“Alright. I swear if that thing tastes bad I’m gonna stop-”

“-Don’t worry about it, I wiped it down with a baby wipe just for you, honeypie.” Beetlejuice cooed in an exaggerated sing-songy tone, hitching his thumb under the waistband of his underwear and yanking them down. You weren’t too sure about the baby wipe thing- the second Beej pulled his boxers down, you could smell what you could only really describe as the scent that sex is linked with. Sweat for sure, hints of his ‘natural’ smell... it wasn’t bad or anything of the sort but you weren’t too sure if the demon had wiped himself whatsoever. Then again, it was very likely it could be coming from his bush, similarly colored as his hair. 

He was practically buzzing with excitement as he gently brought your head as close to him as you could. He was much warmer down here than any other part of his body; not that that was saying much since he was always cold, but this region had at least heated up to a nice, tepid temperature. “Get yourself familiar with it,” Beej purred above you, and at this moment, you tried to emulate what you had seen regarding blowjobs online. A single kiss that you planted on the tip of his dick drew a chuckle out of him, but he quickly inhaled as you pressed your tongue against it, dragging it down. You were tentative at first, but upon realizing that he must’ve actually done what he said in regards to ‘cleaning’ it as you couldn’t taste the caked on dust and miscellaneous grime you could on other parts of his body, you grew more eager. He tasted similarly to how he smelled down there- sweaty, yet...strangely pleasant. For a while, he let you do as you were, already slightly squirming due to it, but he eventually gently pulled you back up towards the tip with a husky laugh. 

“It’s not a saltlick, beau. That feels very good but you can actually suck it too.” His voice was lowered to that amazing tone that made you grow hot, but you also heated up in embarrassment. 

“O-okay, sorry,” You muttered against him, and he scratched your head in response.

“‘S no problem, but here,” With this, he positioned his dick with his other hand and ever so slightly rolled his hips forward, just enough to plunge the tip in your mouth. Hissing at the immediate warmth and wetness, he tightened his grip and unintentionally yanked your hair a bit. 

Okay. This wasn’t bad at all yet, you could handle this. Your tongue flicked against the head of his dick and you heard him cry out, practically jumping out of his skin. With a slight smile, you continued, maneuvering your tongue over the tip, making sure to coat every inch you could with your spit. It took a bit but he hissed ever so slightly, this time in a more pained way.

“Th-that’s good, babe, b-but you’re overstimulating me a bit,” The demon whined, and you immediately stopped. Whoops, you forgot that was a thing that happened. “Can I...can I stick more in?” He asked, panting as he was attempting to catch his breath, and you shot him a thumbs up. More of him sunk into you and you could already feel your mouth getting full- it wasn’t uncomfortable yet, but you could definitely already see why this was a hard task for some. You ran your tongue against more of his length, ignoring the tip for now, and he continued scratching at your head, sucking in deep breaths and moaning at the sensation.

“N-now can you hollow out your cheeks against me? L-like, uh...pretend you’re drinking out of a straw- yeah! Yeah, that’s it,” As you created suction against him, the demon groaned and began to maneuver your head himself, slowly however, so that you could pull away whenever you wanted if it proved to be too much. He sunk your head down to about halfway down his length before you tensed up- feeling the head of his dick tickle against the back of your throat was strange, and while Beetlejuice would have killed for you to deepthroat him, he realized that was definitely too much for a beginner. A better idea popped into his head though, and he shakily asked you if you wanted him to reciprocate. As you pulled up against his hand for air, an abundance of drool dribbling down your chin already, you nodded up at him, feeling hot arousal pulse through you as well.

Though you had never given head, you had received it from Beetlejuice quite a few times before. Long story short, he absolutely knew how to use that long, thick tongue of his. While his mouth was slightly colder than what a human’s would be, he still always felt amazing around you. Cackling at your excitement, he rubbed your head. “Okay, handsome.” With this, the large ghost picked you up with ease, laid himself down, then laid you down on top of him- your face close to his crotch, his face close to yours. He had to position your legs so that you were on your knees, that way he could actually get to your crotch, and hummed as he palmed you through your underwear. “Looks like you’re turned on too, huh, (Y/N)?” 

You just laughed in agreement, you hadn’t really realized how hard you were until Beej was touching you. Eager to get to taste you as well, the demon all but tore off your underwear, flinging them to the other side of the room. “Beetleju-” You started, but you quickly cut yourself off with a moan as his tongue wrapped around the hilt of your penis. 

“God, babe, you taste fuckin’ fantastic,” You jumped as you heard his voice in your mind. For whatever reason, you forgot that his abilities included telepathy- he would resort to it when his tongue was busy doing something else…almost bashfully, you lowered your head back to his crotch, flustered with the compliment. His large hand found its way back onto your head and you took him into your mouth once again. Beetlejuice resumed in groaning, but this time, it was against you. You slowed, trembling slightly and feeling yourself burn hot- it was going to be a hell of a lot more difficult to pleasure him while he was pleasuring you, as you kept jerking and jumping when he hit a particularly sweet spot on you. Determined, though, and realizing that Beej was doing most of the work for you, you kept at it, occasionally swiping your tongue against parts of his length, relishing in feeling him groan or even tense up under you. 

He on the other hand was utilizing his tongue to the fullest extent, having essentially been jerking you off with it for a good while before finally taking you into his mouth as well. You let out a whine around his dick and you felt one of his hands slap your ass. Unlike you, he was more than experienced in doing this, so he could manage to take all of you in at once. It felt amazing, him providing you with the same tight grip you did him on top of his tongue still wrapped around you. However, he had to be extra cautious in moving against you, as his row of sharp teeth could for sure hurt had he not been as careful as possible. However, that wasn’t even a thought at this point, as he had sucked you off more than enough times for you to know that he knew what he was doing. 

The two of you got lost in the motions for a while, practically synchronizing your rhythm so that when your head was plunged down against him, he drew away so that only the head of your dick was in his mouth, and vice versa. His grip on you grew less sturdy though, euphoria overtaking him the longer you went at it, and as his hand slipped away, you kept the pace, bobbing your head up and down against him in time. 

“Good boy,” Beetlejuice’s voice cut into your mind, causing you to shiver as you rose up for air. You loved it when he praised you, and likewise, he loved it when you praised him. 

“Y-you’re so good at this.” Was all you could choke out before returning your head to the position you’d grown accustomed to in the past minutes, a smug growl sounding out from the demon. He knew he was, but hearing you say it to him made him squirm that much more.

As you two attempted to keep the ever quickening pace, you both began to find you were approaching your respective orgasms. You moved your pelvis against the demon, rocking yourself against him as he continued to jerk you off with his tongue inside his mouth, and he in turn was shifting his hips as you bobbed against him, the tip of his dick teasing against the back of your throat. The both of you were practically caked in sweat now- some of your body heat transferring to the demon under you, he was warmer than he usually had been, his skin heating up to what could almost be considered a human temperature. 

You decided to challenge yourself to take all of him in, you took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut before doing so, taking all of his length into your mouth and throat. He cried out, some guttural exclamation mixed with surprise and arousal, as he felt himself squeezed by the tightness of your throat. Immediately, you wanted to gag, but willed past it, letting yourself sit still for a moment as Beej thrust two times before all but howling against you, pulling your head off him and emptying himself against your face. Splurts of light green cum shot against your mouth and chin, and it wasn’t too long until he made you cum inside of his mouth too.

Squeezing your dick with his tongue so he could milk every last drop from you and gulp it down, you trembled, and his hands found their way to your hips so he could steady you. When he had felt that you were finally done, he uncoiled the muscle from your dick and you rolled off him and onto your back next to him, the both of you gasping and panting. 

After you gained your bearings, you were the one that broke the silence. “...Did you have to cum on my face?” You heard him giggle next to you.

“Whoops, sorry. Lemme’ get that.” Before you could react, he rolled to his side, let that long tongue of his snake out of his mouth, and lapped up his own ejaculate to your horror. As he pulled away, smacking his lips with an ‘Aah’ as if he had enjoyed a sip of a drink, you scrunched your nose up. 

“Really?!” He laughed at your mortification and licked your cheek in response, causing your grimace to break into a smile as you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t mind you cumming on my face or anything, don’t worry.” 

Basking in afterglow, the demon gave a sort of lazy smile, those eyes of his lighting up. “You did so well, baby. Can’t believe you thought you were gonna’ embarrass yourself.” Blushing at this, it was your turn to giggle as you pressed your hand against his face, feeling exhilarated that you managed to give him a good blowjob. 

“Well, thank you.” You responded, the smile evident in your voice. “You did amazing too.”

“Yeah well, they don’t call me BJ for nothin’.” The demon’s voice was muffled against your hand, and all you could do was groan at his stupid joke before pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Hey, could you order some takeout? All that’s got me starving.” 

You rolled your eyes with a grin as you rolled off the bed and got up to pick up your undergarment that Beetlejuice had thrown across the room. “Sure, just for you, bugboy.” You wouldn’t tell him of course, but you had deemed successfully sucking your boyfriend’s dick as a triumph worthy enough to elicit getting food delivered, so you weren’t adverse to the idea. You were happy as this day had proved that you had a partner you were comfortable in trying anything with, so you smirked as you recommended a place that neither of you had ever eaten at before, and Beej was more than happy to humor you. 

[detectivecutiepantsandhisbabyfox]

How about the prompt “you can do anything you want to me” with Sledge and Snafu. Smut galore, please 😉

I received this fic prompt from my lovely friend @ramimedley and then only a few days later the wonderful @lis-alis posted the most beautiful Sledgefu artwork I have ever seen, and my brain immediately exploded. This prompt and the art belong together.

I have permission from @lis-alis to re-post her art work here with the fic that was inspired by it. All credit to them and their simply brilliant work. The details in the art are gorgeous and I’ve tried to include them in the fic; and have hopefully done it justice.

This is a little different to how I write normally, but the art required a more gentle form of writing. I would greatly appreciate feedback on this as it’s new for me.

It’s under a cut because it got a little longer than intended (surprise, surprise) and will be posted on ao3 later.

I’d walk through fire for you (just let me adore you) 

The blades of grass tickled Eugene’s shoulder blades as he lay down upon the lush green carpet. He paid it no mind; the sensation was blissful in comparison to grains of sand sticking to his sweaty back. 

The sun prickled his skin, warming his face as he closed his eyes and turned towards it; like a sunflower, chasing its rays. 

He arched his back, rolling his hips; sighing,  and listening for the hitch of breath he knew he’d receive in return. 

“I know watcha doin’ boo” Merriell drawled, grinning at Eugene’s own quick huff of breath at sound of his voice. 

He blew out a plume of smoke, thick fingers tapping ash into the long grass, his eyes never leaving Eugene’s expanse of pale skin. 

“Well ain’t that what we came here for?” Eugene asked, eyes still closed against the early evening sun. 

“Teasin’ me Gene.”

“Get over here then.....won’t be teasin’.......we’ll be doin’.” 

Merriell huffed out a laugh, watching transfixed as Gene’s long fingers trailed over his chest, stopping for a beat at his nipple before hitching his thumb in his dog tags. 

Eugene heard Merriell’s bare feet moving in the long grass; neither of them bothered about any unknown wildlife living amongst the flowers and plants. He sat beside Eugene’s shoulder; his warm palm resting on Eugene’s pink skin, blunt thumb tracing circles around his erect nipple, smirk growing at Eugene’s stifled moan. He poked his bare toe into Eugene’s side; sliding it into the waistband of his dungarees. 

Legs drawn to his chest, Merriell stared over the endless meadow as he finished his cigarette. 

After only a few days here, his mind was still in the mud drenched fields of Okinawa, he found it hard to believe that now, here in China, he and Gene could finally, finally do the things the mud, shit, death and close proximity of others had prevented them from doing for so long. 

Eugene stretched his arms above his head, rolling his head to the side to look at Merriell. He wished he could draw more than birds. Merriell’s profile was stunning against the golden pink sky behind him, Eugene wanted to immortalise him in a sketch book with charcoal and smudges of his thumb. 

“Mer” he breathed, his own hot breath fanning over his tricep as he stretched from his fingers to his long toes. A small white butterfly emerged from the grass by his feet, his wiggling toes disturbing its peace. 

Merriell turned to look at his boy, eyes raking over Eugene’s lean torso, taking in every inch of pale, unmarred skin. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry; Eugene letting slip a small whimper under Merriell’s stare.

He shuffled around, laying beside Eugene, settling on his stomach and propping his chin on his chest; his legs bent at the knee, the dirty soles of his feet heated by the sun as he swung his legs back and forth. Eyes zeroed in on Eugene’s lips, drawn in a small smile as Eugene’s own eyes flicked to Merriell’s plush smirk. 

“What do you want?” he pressed a gentle kiss to Eugene’s nipple; flicking out his tongue, snake-like, running it round the hardened nub. 

Eugene shivered at Merriell’s ministrations; what do you want? His question echoing in Eugene’s head. 

Everything, anything; he just wanted, wanted whatever Merriell would give him. 

“You can do whatever you like to me” his back arched up off the blades of grass; now flattened beneath him, a groan pulled from his throat, Merriell happily biting against his prominent collarbone. 

“Yeah?” Merriell waited for Eugene’s eyes to open and meet his own before he raised his brows; heart hammering in his chest as his boy nodded gently, biting his lower lip. His chest heaved beneath his palms, pale skin pulled tight over his ribs. 

Eugene’s cock pressed up against Merriell’s ass, heat seeping through two layers of worn dungarees. He shifted, Eugene’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Jesus Christ” Eugene’s toes flexed, his breath quickening as Merriell took hold of his wrists. He gently laid them into the still, undisturbed grass at Eugene’s head; small insects taking into the humid air around them.

“Merriell” he gasped as Merriell rocked against him, his answering moan louder than Eugene dared to be. 

“I wanna feel dat in me” he spoke to the air above Eugene’s face, staring off into the distance as Eugene chased his gaze. 

“Gonna......hafta wait though.”

“Wha...at?” Eugene bucked his hips, whining. The thought of finally being inside Merriell like a fire burning inside his belly, his head woozy at the thought.

“Why?” 

Merriell smiled at Eugene, eyes never leaving his as he whispered “cos........I brought you here for somethin’ else.......”

“You gonna murder me or somthin’ Mer?” 

Merriell’s answering chuckle sent shivers up Eugene’s spine. His fingers flexed; hands still pinned to the cool grass. 

“Can’t do what I have in mind at the barracks....”

Another “why?” Fell from Eugene’s lips, brow furrowing. 

“Because.....boo.....” Merriell’s tongue licked against Eugene’s lips, a deep groan from Eugene’s chest swallowed by Merriell’s insistent mouth.

“......I’m gonna make you moan so loud......they’d hear you in downtown Peking.”

His mouth continued to press against Eugene’s own, inhaling the whines Eugene knew he had absolutely no control over. 

Merriell pulled up watching the blush rise over Eugene’s cheeks to the tips of his ears, his cock twitched in his dungarees, the coarse material not unpleasant against the swollen head. 

He knew that Eugene was loud, couldn’t contain his breathy moans and whines when all he’d done was bring him off with his hand in a dirty foxhole. Merriell needed to hear more of Eugene’s noise; was like a song to him, a song he needed stuck in his head like an over played record. 

Eugene’s dungarees lay thrown amongst the flowers as Merriell rifled through the pockets of his own; his fingers finally landing on a small tin of Vaseline. Turning it over in his hands, he remembered the times he had felt it in his pack and wanted to rip it out, lather his fingers in it and push them inside Eugene. 

Fingers shaking at the prospect of that now happening, he removed his own dungarees; throwing them over Eugene’s, their clothes mirroring them as he lay between Eugene’s spread thighs. 

“Gene” Merriell murmured against Eugene’s belly button, drowning in the scent of his boy;  standard issue soap, his sweat and unbridled lust.

His tongue trailed down the sparse hair towards his cock; “You tell me to stop.....if you don’t like it boo...”

“Never.” Gene’s hands were still next to his head; fingers twitching, pulling at the long blades of grass. Merriell hadn’t asked him to keep them there, but Eugene knew Merriell well enough to know how his mind worked. 

Every muscle in Eugene’s body locked tight, Merriell’s lips dragging down his glistening cock. He’d wanted that mouth on him for a year, more maybe, and now it felt bittersweet. That first touch of Merriell’s lips to his cock was over. He mourned for it. 

“Merriell.......please...” Eugene begged. His foot came up to rest against Merriell’s calf, flexing his toes against the soft hair, warm skin. 

“I ain’t stopping here...” was all that fell from Merriell’s mouth before he sucked gently on one of Eugene’s balls. 

“Fuuuck” Eugene wailed, Merriell’s grip around the base of his cock the only thing stopping him from the insane feeling he was gonna float away. 

Merriell pushed on his thighs; pressing them outwards as he nosed at his balls and licked further down to where Eugene had never been touched.

“Please don’t feel you have to....” he muttered as he threw his head back; cheeks flaming red at where Merriell’s mouth was heading.

“Oh Cher....I’ve wanted to do this since the day I saw your bare ass on the beach.......I do hafta’” he grinned against Eugene’s soft thigh, fingers scooping the Vaseline from the small tin. 

Merriell’s mouth watered as he pressed small kisses around Eugene’s taint, finally licking against him, his broad tongue lapping against his overheated skin. 

“Merriell” Eugene sighed, his fingers now tangled in his own hair, feet against Merriell’s hot back as he held Eugene’s thighs open with his big hands. 

Eugene was soothed by the sounds of nature surrounding him; chirrup of crickets, tweets of birds interspersed with the the obscene moans falling from Merriell’s mouth. The sound vibrating against the one place Eugene never imagined anyone would put their mouth. But god, it felt good; like nothing else. 

And soon the cacophony of sound surrounding him had a new musician. His incessant whines and pleas filled the air alongside the birdsong. 

“Mer” he pleaded as Merriell’s mouth sucked hard on his rim, sharp tongue poking at his hole. He could feel the tight ring of muscle giving way as he relaxed, as he felt his grassy bed might open up and swallow him whole.

Merriell came up for air, peering over his boy’s hard, red cock; laying flush against his belly. 

“You good cher?” He wiped his chin against Eugene’s milky white thigh, startling as Eugene’s hand dropped into his curls; pushing him back down, down to where he needed him.

“Please......please Mer...don’t stop” Eugene’s whole body trembled, hand shaking in Merriell’s nest of curls. The smirk that took over Merriell’s face was only seen by Eugene’s ass, but Merriell had never felt so wanted in his life.

Running his hands along Eugene’s thighs, gently pushing them out, he listened to his boy plead above him; the sound like music to his ears. 

“Mer.....so good....please please please...I wanna.......please Merriell.”

Placing his mouth back against Eugene, inhaling his scent, tasting him, confident he was making him feel good; Merriell was certain in that moment that Eugene would always be his. 

Eugene shuddered as Merriell pushed a finger inside him, his ears rang with static and his whole being zeroed in on this new feeling. He’d  had Merriell’s hand, mouth on his cock, his tongue in his mouth, lips on his skin; but now. Now a part of Merriell was inside of him and his body welcomed him with open arms. 

“Fuck........oh my god yes.........” Eugene ignored the slight pain. He’d been through enough to know that this wasn’t real pain, this was excruciating pleasure. He pulled at his own hair again: soft auburn strands running through his restless fingers. 

“Merriell...” he moaned as a wide finger searched inside him. 

“You doin’ so good Gene.......” Merriell kissed around Eugene’s taint, watching his finger disappear inside his boy. 

“Wanna hear you.........it feel good?” 

“Yes......god yes...”

“You taste so good boy.......” Merriell pumped his finger faster now, curling inside velvety walls, lips sucking around Eugene’s loosening rim. 

Eugene felt himself flush deeply at Merriell’s words. That anyone could say that about that part of his body was inexplicable to him, but his traitorous body thought different, his back arching and mouth opening wide on a moan that he had no control over. 

“Oh I love you” Merriell gasped as his finger curled in just the right spot and Eugene sobbed, as his cock jumped.

“Kiss me.......please Mer...” Eugene pleaded, his whole body a mess of shaking limbs and flushed, sweaty skin. 

Merriell dragged his body up Eugene’s slippery sweat soaked chest, cocks sliding together as Eugene grabbed the back of Merriell’s neck, pulling him to his mouth, tasting himself on Merriell’s tongue. Once again his body reacted before his brain could register just where his tongue had been and he cried out under Merriell’s lips.

“I..........love.......fuck I love you” he sobbed,

“Can......can I....come like that?”

Merriell pulled his mouth from Eugene’s neck, meeting his watery eyes. 

“Sure....boo......” Merriell smiled softly, not his usual smirk; Eugene’s heart seeming to grow ten sizes in his chest, like one of those cartoon characters in the paper. 

“Just you enjoy it baby” he murmured as he slithered back down Eugene’s body, finger immediately tracing his hole before pushing gently inside. 

Eugene stared up at the soft white clouds; they, like him, were tinged pink from the early evening sun. He gasped as Merriell added a second finger, his pink tinge now deepening from the person as important to him as the sun was to the earth. 

Merriell pushed his hips into the grass below him, grunting at the friction; his cock was hard and heavy. He felt strung tight at just watching three of his fingers enter Eugene, he held his breath, waiting. Any sound of pain and he’d stop. 

“Fuck....oh god...yes...” Eugene rolled his hips, pushing down on Merriell’s fingers, chasing the feeling. 

“So good.........don’t stop.....please don’t stop..” his pleading filled the air around him, ringing in Merriell’s ears, that warm tightness coiling in his belly and winding its way round the base of his spine. The sun still warm on his back was nothing compared to the heat coursing through him at watching his boy come apart. 

He was even more beautiful than Merriell had ever imagined. He’d watched him as his cock had released over the hand jammed down his dungarees in a shitty foxhole. Watched as his smart mouth had gone slack, eyes screwed shut; cheeks flushed. But watching him now, Merriell had never believed he could witness 

such a sight. 

He took a deep breath, moving onto his knees between Eugene’s spread thighs. Groaning softly as he took his own cock in hand he stroked himself slowly, languidly, much like the air and wildlife around them; everything moved with syrup-like speed. Like they had all the time in the world. 

Eugene stared at Merriell; his fingers curling over and over inside him, bringing him closer and closer to blissful release. His large hand moved over his cock, Eugene almost reaching  out to grab his own but fisting the grass by his sides instead.

“Mer...” Eugene’s voice was hoarse, the pollen- sticky air and wonton moaning making his throat itchy. 

“Close......I’m......just please....” Eugene fidgeted his hips, planting his feet in the flower laden grass and pushing himself down hard  onto Merriell’s fingers, once, twice, again and again as he threw his head back groaning.

“Gene.........” Merriell breathed, taking his hand off his cock and caressing Eugene’s shaking thigh.

“So beautiful........my beautiful boy....let go baby...”

“Merriell.......” Eugene cried, tears dripping down his cheeks; rolling into the grass, quenching their thirst as Merriell’s fingers curled over and over inside him.

“Yes.......yes......” Eugene wailed, grateful for the open space to allow his body to just feel, react. 

His body locked, rigid, as he he felt himself falling into the endless grass below him, weightless as his body cried out in sheer pleasure, Merriell’s fingers still caressing him from the inside out. Never faltering; even as his own pleasure climaxed, painting his own hand and Eugene’s rim in white ribbons. 

“Gene......” Merriell panted, eyes still closed in bliss, “Gene....”

His fingers still inside his boy, he opened his eyes, watching curiously as come dripped onto the grass below. 

“Gonna clean you up” his whisper seemed loud, the insects and birds the only sounds around them once more. 

The warm air and soothing sounds, wrapped around Eugene as he attempted to rouse himself and sit up on his elbows. Arms like jelly, he decided against it and fell back against the nest-like grass. 

He let out a pleased hum, his mouth stretching wide as he felt Merriell’s curls against the side of his thigh, soft and warm. 

“Oh........” he swallowed, his dry throat clicking as Merriell’s tongue lapped around his rim as he gently pulled his fingers from inside Eugene. 

“Mer......” his whine was pitiful to his own ears as he felt his rim clench.

“I know boo......ain’t the nicest....” Merriell would have kept his fingers in there forever if he could. Just to watch what he had witnessed, on repeat again and again. 

Merriell wiped his fingers on the grass, as he moved up to Eugene’s cock, licking the head and lapping up the white stripes that contrasted with Eugene’s pink skin. 

“You need sunblock boo.... burning up” Merriell rested his chin just below Eugene’s ribs; peering up at his angular jaw dusted with auburn stubble. He was so goddamn beautiful and he didn’t even know it. 

“C’mere” he rasped.

Eugene turned them on their sides as Merriell moved up his body, Merriell pillowing his head on Eugene’s bicep. 

His fingers traced Merriell’s face, lightly scratching at the curls by his ear and smiling at Merriell’s shiver. 

“Thank you.......I.....It’s never felt that good” he felt himself blush, Merriell watching wide eyed.

He waggled his fingers in Eugene’s face, as he sniggered, Eugene pushing them away as he grimaced. 

“I wanna make you feel good” Eugene softy dragged his lips across Merriell’s.

“You did Gene......so good.....just watching you...” letting out a sigh he drew Eugene in by the back of the neck; pulling at his short hair. 

“I wanna....you know....next time” his words ghosted over Merriell’s swollen lips.

“Well I ain’t gonna say no to that” he rolled his hips against Eugene’s, groaning. 

“But how ‘bout we make it this time?” 

He grinned as Eugene pushed him onto his back, falling between his legs. 

The music of the meadow continued on, soon filled with their newest musicians once again. 

[graaythekwami]

To be Loved (ML Fic, Ch 1)

Summary: It's been five years since Hawk Moth's defeat, five years of peace throughout Paris, and five years since Adrien lost everything. He lives a life nearly identical to the one he grew up in, hidden away in his family's mansion, but with a young Emma in his life he still has a reason to keep pressing forward.

Rating: General

Also read on ao3!

------

“Thank you, Ezra,” Adrien said as the limo pulled up in front of the Agreste Mansion, the vehicle slowly came to a stop. His driver said nothing, merely grunting in acknowledgement, looking at him through the rearview mirror. 

Ezra, who he had fondly knew as ‘the Gorilla’ in his childhood, still towered over him in height and muscle as he got out of the car, holding his door open for him as he stepped out. Adrien adjusted his suit coat once, before looking up at his house with a neutral expression. He usually preferred to work from home, but today he had been dragged out to Gabriel headquarters for multiple meetings, mostly with investors. It had been long, tiring, and he still wasn’t sure how he put up with such short sighted people at times.

Adrien didn’t know why they acted like he was the brains of Gabriel– that was the designers’ job. All he did was manage the business side of things, kept the company from collapsing in on itself, while the fashion line continually pushed out new products. 

He let out a long sigh as he climbed the steps to the house– but it had been a long time since he had ever considered it home. He pushed the front doors open unceremoniously, stepping into the empty front room. A black figure zipped out from his front pocket, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched.

“Well, that was absolutely miserable,” Plagg grumbled, flying in front of Adrien as he headed towards the stairs. “Could have left me here instead of your stuffy pocket, you know, wouldn’t have made a difference with anything.”

“You’ve never complained before,” Adrien said coolly, eyes staring up ahead at the blank wall, where a painting of father and son had once hung.

Plagg had enjoyed Cataclysming it.

“Because reasoning with you has gotten us places before,” Plagg said sarcastically, making sure to hover right in front of Adrien’s face as he climbed up the steps. His holder tried to wave him away, but he simply turned intangible in those moments, Adrien’s hand phasing right through him.

“Stop that now,” Adrien said sharply, a edge of a hiss in his voice, the magic of the Miraculous forcing Plagg to go still. The Black Cat let out a huff, before settling to hover above his shoulder.

“I want cheese,” the kwami declared loudly.

“You know where to find it.”

“Well I–“ Plagg began as they walked past one of the door’s to Adrien’s old room, when they heard an excited gasp from within. Adrien paused, and without another word his kwami vanished into his pocket once more, a mere black blur as the door was thrown open.

“Adrien!” An excited voice squealed, a small figure sprinting out of the room, slamming into his legs. He looked down to see a head of messy black hair and a pair of large blue eyes, the young girl grinning up at him. “You’re home! Ms. Manon said you wouldn’t be home until I was asleep!”

“That’s because you should be asleep right now,” a voice said from the doorway.

“Hello Emma,” Adrien said calmly, and small arms wrapped tighter around his legs as Manon took a step closer. “It’s nice to see you.”

The little girl beamed at these words, swinging around so she was on the other side of Adrien’s legs, sticking her tongue out at her nanny. “I told you Adrien wanted to see me, Adrien isn’t upset at all!”

“I am so sorry, sir,” Manon apologized, hurrying forward to pry the young girl from off of him. “I just couldn’t to get her to go to sleep tonight no matter what I did, she kept saying she wanted to stay up until you got home.”

“I see,” he replied evenly, watching the child as she was scooped up into Manon’s arms. She let out a laugh, leaning back so she could give Adrien another smile. “Well, I am home now, Emma, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be listening to Manon right now.”

“I wanna play!” Emma replied. “Will you play with me, Adrien? We never play any games, Adrien. It would be so much fun, wouldn’t it, Adrien?”

She put an emphasis to his name each time she said it, as if everyone in the room would forget if she did not declare it each time. She kept twisting in Manon’s grasp, forcing her nanny to constantly adjust her grip on her so she wouldn’t fall to the ground. Perhaps he should look into ordering a set of monkey bars for her room, watching as she tried to climb up onto Manon’s shoulders.

“Perhaps another time,” Adrien said. “You should be in bed, and I have a lot of work to do.”

Emma deflated in Manon’s arms as he said this, the spark in her eyes leaving as she went limp, forcing her nanny to lower her to the floor. “You always hafta work.”

Adrien watched her for a moment, and with a small sigh he knelt down so he was at her level. He ruffled up her hair, catching a glimpse of a small smile as he did so, and he couldn’t help but feel one tug at his own face.

“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow,” he said after a moment of consideration.

Emma lit up instantly, blue eyes going wide, bounding forward so she was inches from his face. He pulled back slightly, her smile growing. “You promise, Adrien?”

“I promise.”

“Woo!” She let out a cheer, her cry echoing through the empty halls, and she wheeled around to face Manon. “We need to get to bed right now– if I sleep then we can wake up and have breakfast!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Manon said, holding out her hand. “Come on then, let’s go tuck you in.”

“Okay!” Emma chirped, turning to face Adrien with a grin. “Goodnight, Adrien! I love you!”

Adrien had been pushing himself to his feet, but completely froze up as those three words left her mouth. His eyes went wide, stiffening up in shock. His head whipped towards the young girl, but she didn’t seem to notice his reaction, just skipping over to Manon, slipping her hand into hers.

“What?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them, and Emma paused as she was lead back into her room, looking over her shoulder innocently. Blue eyes blinked once, and she tilted her head as she gave another smile.

“I love you!” She repeated happily, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

For a moment he was silent, but after a moment he managed to stutter out a few words. “I- I see.”

Plagg twisted in his pocket, and he could see Manon giving him an unreadable look, but Emma didn’t seem to find anything strange about this reply. She just gave him another smile, and with a small tug she pulled her nanny back into her room. Manon hesitated, looking at him, before slowly closing the door. Adrien was left kneeling there on the ground, completely still.

“Wow kid, five star performance,” Plagg drawled, coming out of the pocket as soon as his holder was alone.

Adrien closed his eyes. “I just– she–” he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. “...Let’s go.”

Plagg stared at him in disbelief as he continued up the steps, heading to the third floor. His kwami hovered there for a moment– before rushing after his holder with a low growl.

“That’s all you say?” He asked, bolting in front of him. “Just walk away? I don’t get you kid! That’s not how you’re supposed to handle things! Have you ever heard of something called a proper reply?”

Adrien said nothing for a moment, before sighing as he pushed open his office door. “What was I supposed to say?”

“That you love her too!” Plagg cried, paws thrown up in disbelief, and he went still went as Adrien didn’t say anything. “You... you do love her, don’t you? You love her, right?”

Adrien looked back at Plagg, green eyes unreadable. “Emma is the most important thing in my life.”

Then without another word he sank down behind his desk, pulling a laptop towards him. The kwami stared at him, as if wanting something more, but Adrien only settled down as he began to work. Fingers typing at the keyboard, earnestly doing something he hated, gaze unfocused as he worked away. Plagg’s ears went back, and he slowly pulled away.

He slipped into a cupboard, grabbing a wheel of Camembert cheese before drifting towards the desk. He sat down on the edge, Adrien not even blinking as he took a bite of his favorite food. Plagg watched his holder, tail curling uncertainly.

His eyes fell to the silvery ring on Adrien’s finger– his Miraculous– which he hadn’t called upon for him to transform in years. Plagg didn’t know why the man still wore it, why he bothered keeping him out of the Miracle Box when he barely seemed to even tolerate his presence.

Plagg knew they would be up late into the night, because that was what Adrien did every day. There were few tasks he delegated to workers below him, because work was the one thing he’d bury himself in. From up in the early hours of the morning until late at night, only eating when food was brought to him, and often times it was Plagg ordering those meals for him.

But tomorrow he knew they would be down in the dining room, having breakfast with Emma– because when Adrien made a promise to that kid, he never broke it.

Plagg was glad that he was able to do one thing right.

[hallodraws]

Electrifying Experience | Spider-Man x Reader

Wordcount: 2,085

Summary: “During a painfully lonely trip to the carnival, Electro makes an appearance to put an end to the festivities, leaving you trapped on the Ferris Wheel. How could tonight get any worse? Well, Spider-Man comes to the rescue - helping you in more ways than one.”

Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: I wanted to take a small break from my Silkster fic and write a little one-shot. I can see this going further so if people want a part two, be sure to comment, like, and reblog ♡ P.S. I love the new Electro from the Spider-Man PS4 game omg

New York City was incredibly active tonight, it seemed. Everyone was out having fun. The magazine had given you tickets to go to the "Summer's Start Carnival" in the park. Yes, you were encouraged to have a fun time, but they higher-ups sent you there to get some good photos for the next issue. Your boss made sure to give you two tickets so you could bring someone. I mean, who goes to a carnival by themselves? Well, it turns out you do.

You had asked a co-worker to go with you, one that you had liked for a while now. You thought it would've been a perfect opportunity to spend some time together outside of work. Guess that was wishing too much. They ended up taking the other ticket but decided to go with someone else. It was nothing personal; they just weren't interested. It still didn't feel great though.

While you were there, you spent the night taking photos of as many people as possible. You captured them all - excited children, happy families, fast friends, and even star-struck lovers. It was nice to talk to people a bit before and after snapping a shot. However, once they left, it reminded you that you were alone tonight. After an hour or so you found it difficult to talk to people anymore, so you focused on rides and environment shots instead.

You make your way to the Ferris Wheel. At about 50 feet in height, it was the tallest structure at the carnival. It was getting late, so the line was nonexistent. You figure you could get a couple of detailed shots at the top then call it a night. You give your ticket to the attendant at the entrance. You feel a little tinge of disappointment as he looks behind you to see if you're going up with a partner. But nope, it was just you. You get in the chair and begin your solo ascension.

It's a slow journey to the top, stopping every few seconds to let others off. You decide to check your social media. As you open the app, you see that #ElectroEscapes was trending online. Upon reading further, you see hundreds of posts and updates about the villain. He managed to escape from his high-security cell and was now galavanting around the city. It doesn't look like he was hurting anyone, at least not yet. Reports just claimed he was causing power outages and property damage.

You pull yourself away from the news once you finally make it to the top. Looking out at the carnival and the rest of the city, you see a beautiful amalgamation of lights and stars. You grab your camera and begin snapping, and the pictures were coming out better than anticipated. Soon you'd head home, send your work to the boss, and put a much-needed end to this night.

As you spend some time to admire the view (not through the lens of your camera), you notice a flicker of light in the distance. It bounces rapidly in every direction, leaving a sparkling trail in its path. You squint, trying to make out what exactly it is. That's when you notice it. It was heading straight for the carnival. People begin to take notice - pointing in shock as the light gets closer and closer.

"It's Electro!" you hear people shouting from down below. Choas ensues once people can make out the outline of a man underneath all the electricity. Electro flashes across the sky in an almost blinding beam of light - his explosive laugh echoing over the screams of the people.

"A carnival? Shocking that I wasn't invited," he shouts as he flickers around the area, "Oh well, guess I'll hafta call lights out on this little shindig!"

He looks over his shoulder at the citizens cowering beneath him. You can make out his expression through the light. He's got a crazed look in his eye. You try to duck for cover, but there's nowhere to hide. You were a sitting duck at the top of this ride and were horrified beyond belief. Luckily for you, Electro had the bigger picture in mind. With a loud crack and an explosion of electricity, he's gone - zapping out all the power in a 10-mile radius.

You could relax now. The immediate danger was gone, but people were still uneasy. You could see as people continued to call out in the dark, looking for their loved ones. You looked at the attendant on the ground. He was mashing every button he could to bring life back to the Ferris Wheel, but to no avail. For the time being, you knew you were stranded on the peak of this ride. You groan in frustration. How could this night get any worse?

Without warning, you hear a loud thud beside you. You look to your side to see a masked man, clad in a familiar red and blue suit, standing on the protective bar of the chair. It was Spider-Man - the webbed warrior, protector of New York City, Avenger - honestly, you could go on. You feel the seat rock ever so slightly, but you're too focused on the hero balancing beside you. You've seen him on the news and seen articles about him in the Daily Bugle, but you've never once seen him in person, let alone up close.

"Is everyone alright?" He called out over the crowd. People looked to him, and effectively up at me, quieting down rather fast. Still, there was a faint murmur as people continued to worry.

"I need everyone to remain calm," he continued, "Electro is just flexing his powers right now. He's proud of his escape. As of right now, no one's hurt, and power should be back shortly. So please, everyone, remain calm. We will find him." applause slowly grew from the crowd. Everyone trusted Spider-Man. I mean, how could you not? He rubs the back of his neck, chuckling to himself. You can't avert your gaze.

"Hey, are you okay?" He kneels down beside you, still balancing on the bar without trouble.

"Y-Yeah," you find yourself to be a little star-struck, so you try to shake your nerves, "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Don't sweat it! It's all in a day's work!" he laughs, "Listen, I don't know how long it will take for them to bring the power back. Do you want me to help you down?" You blush to yourself, the idea of Spider-Man putting his arms around you and safely carrying you to the ground sounded incredible. But he's a superhero, and Electro was on the lose. You don't want to waste his time.

"It's okay, I don't think lightning will strike twice," you joke, "the view is pretty nice up here. Besides, the way my night's going, I've got nothing better to do."

"Bad night?" He cocks his head.

"You could say that," you feel like you're oversharing, so you catch yourself, "B-But you don't want to hear about that." You try to laugh it off as much as possible, but he can tell it's a facade.

"Sure I do." He adjusts himself, sitting on the bar, facing you. His legs dangle in the space between the seat and the bar, brushing against your knees every now and again.

"What about Electro?" You lean forward on the bar.

"I can't do anything until someone radios me his location. Besides, aren't heroes supposed to help people?" you can't see his face, but you feel like he's smiling at you.

"Yeah, by like fighting criminals. Not by being a therapist." You give a laugh, one that Spider-Man returns. He leans in.

"Whoever thinks that being a superhero is about just fighting baddies doesn't really know anything about superheroes." He kicks his legs gently. You wonder to yourself that maybe he's enjoying this, "C'mon. Tell your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man all about it."

"Well," you're unsure how to start, "I was supposed to be here with someone. But, turns out they weren't all that interested in me."

"So you're here alone?" the red-clad hero asks, concern in his voice.

"Yeah. It's okay though. I just thought--" you find yourself at a loss for words. "Just thought?" Spider-Man lifts himself up from the bar and swings over to sit beside you in the seat. Your nerves come back.

"I-I just thought... I don't know."

"What's your name?" he asks without warning. You're a little taken aback by this, but you find the strength to look at him face-to-face.

"My name is (Y/N)."

"Well, (Y/N)," he begins, leaning on the bar in the same position you're in, "Whoever bailed on you really missed out. You seem like a good person who's a lot of fun to hang out with."

"You got all that from just meeting me?" you joke.

"Call it my spidey senses," he jokes back, "Granted, I'm sure you didn't plan for a night like this."

"You could say that again," You lean back, looking at the thousands of stars scattered above you, "I guess, in the end, I had a fantasy in my head of how this night was supposed to go, you know?" It was cheesy, but when you planned to come to the carnival with your co-worker tonight, you had this dumb romance novel scenario pictured in your head - delicious food that's so bad for you, casual flirting while waiting in line for rides, and maybe a kiss on top of the Ferris Wheel.

Spider-Man cocks his head again. You can't tell what he's thinking, but what he does next is what really takes you by surprise. He brings his hand to his mask and slowly slides it off - just enough to expose his mouth, which you can now clearly see is in a gorgeous grin. He scoots a few inches closer to you. He looks down at his lap for a moment; you can feel that he's at least somewhat nervous. You don't understand why.

"Spider-Man?" you ask. The hero doesn't reply. Instead, he closes the gap between you, pushing his lips against your own. It feels like time's stopped. Without thinking, you bring your hand up to his cheek, softly cupping his face. He reaches up, gently putting his gloved hand on yours. It's a sweet kiss that felt like it could go on forever. You each feel the other smile underneath as you break away in hushed laughter.

"W-what was that for?" you manage to force out.

"Remeber. Whoever thinks that being a superhero is about just fighting baddies doesn't really know anything about superheroes." You see him flash that beautiful smile once again. He was right. Not only did he make sure everyone was safe, but he also went out of his way to make your night better - So much better than you could ever imagine.

It's at this moment that you finally hear the people below. You both look down. At the base of the Ferris Wheel, you hear an eruption of applause and cheering from the crowd. You look at the faces of all the people clapping, waving, whistling, and so on. Without knowing, you two had essentially put on quite the show.

"Were they watching the whole time?" You feel your face begin to flush. Spider-Man laughs to himself, his hand now resting on your back. You hear the faint sound of interference coming from his suit. He leans away slightly, trying to understand better. It stops, and he looks back at you.

"Electro's been spotted in Inner City," you can feel his fingers clench ever so slightly, "I gotta go." Without hesitation you lean in again, planting a soft kiss on his exposed cheek.

"He's dangerous. Please be careful." You tell him. You can just make out his cheeks beginning to flush as he gives you one more smile.

"I will. I promise, (Y/N)." He slides his mask back down over his face. You feel his form lift out of the chair.

"Bye." is all you're able to say. He aims one of his slingers at the building across the street, looks over his shoulder at you one last time, and in mere seconds he's gone. The people beneath continue to clap and cheer, but that doesn't matter anymore. You're left alone once more, on the top of a Ferris Wheel, with a newfound, more profound appreciation for the hero Spider-Man - as well as the man behind the mask.

[haberdashing]

Avarice (6/6)

AU of the Transcendence AU where Grunkle Stan becomes a demon instead of Dipper.

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

on AO3

also on ff.net (no link because filters)

“Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Ford, look what we found!”

Ford let out a noise of surprise as he turned and threw the nearest of a sizable stack of crumpled-up wads of paper at the source of the words. The paper ball harmlessly bounced off an unbothered Mabel, who was excitedly waving a notebook page in the air, the wide grin on her face rivaled only by that of her brother.

Ford let out a sigh of relief as he pushed himself up from the desk, where he had been crouched over notes, head and arms encircling the papers. “I’m sorry, Mabel, you just... startled me.”

“Pssh.” Mabel used her free hand to make a gesture waving away Ford’s concern. “Not a problem. But look, we found something in your notes that could help against Bill!” She waved the notebook page around even more enthusiastically, the paper curving and flapping in the air.

“Careful with that! Here, let me get a closer look.”

“Oh. Right.”

Ford stepped closer, and Mabel held out the page. It didn’t look particularly remarkable at a glance, displaying nothing that looked particularly menacing or lethal, just a few small pictures and scribbled descriptions of several rather mundane-looking objects.

Ford examined the page closely, tracing the writing with his finger before eventually resting his thumb next to a picture of something that looked as much like a cheap gift shop knick-knack as a magical artifact worthy of serious study, muttering to himself all the while, before finally glancing back up at Dipper and Mabel. “Good find, you two.”

“Dipper found it, actually.” Mabel extended her arm towards her brother, who stood up straighter at the mention of his name.

“A-and I was thinking-” Dipper rummaged through his vest before retrieving a small notebook, which he flipped through frantically. “-if we combined that with-”

“Quiet now.” Ford scanned the room, but overlooked Stan’s hiding spot near the bottom of the tarp. (Stan always had been the better of the two at hide and seek.) “He’s probably watching us as we speak. If we’re going to plan anything, we need to do it as quietly and stealthily as possible, so that there’s a chance he might not notice.”

And so Ford and the kids gathered together supplies and huddled around a piece of... was that parchment? Of all the things Ford could have around as writing material, he was using parchment? At least that’s what it looked like, a giant piece of off-white paper, nothing like the stuff you’d buy at the store...

The three sketched and wrote frantically on the paper, but the way they all leaned over it made it damn near impossible for Stan to get a glimpse at their plans, even when he eventually inched away from the tarp and closer to their work. They worked for minutes, maybe hours, it was hard to tell, but eventually the three split up and started working on separate projects, ones that still didn’t make much sense as Stan watched them being made piece by piece. But one pattern emerged from their work.

Apparently, to defeat a demon triangle, you needed... circles. Lots and lots of circles.

The circle that Mabel was working on was composed of wood, thin pine boughs twisted and bent until they joined together to make a circle as wide as Mabel was tall, a fact repeatedly demonstrated by her laying down in the middle while doing her work (and when she occasionally flopped down on top of the circle when she had had enough and needed a break). Across the circle, she made intricate loops and patterns with off-white string, geometric shapes arranged just so, with all the lines eventually criss-crossing around the circle’s center. On roughly a quarter of the circle she hung neon-colored strings and lined them with thick beads and brightly-dyed feathers.

It was, admittedly, a magnificent crafts project,  but its connection to the situation at hand was utterly lost on Stan.

Dipper’s project was a bit more straightforward. He made a circle out of rainbow hair, unicorn hair, and Stan had seen a similar lining just outside the Shack, could guess its intended purpose. There was more to the circle than the hair, too- stones dotted its perimeter at regular locations, and all around the edge had been sprinkled drops of mercury, the silver beads gleaming as they were carefully nudged into place. The space that this barrier encompassed was a bit smaller than that of Mabel’s wooden circle; within it lay a large stack of books, the memory gun that Ford had used to get rid of the feds, and, for some reason, a spray bottle full of unidentified clear liquid. (Stan would have liked to assume that the liquid was water. Stan knew better.)

Ford used thick white chalk to outline circles within circles within circles, the outermost one significantly dwarfing the other two projects. (Only one room in the house had enough open space for such a project, and upon poking his head into the basement, Stan had found its floor conveniently vacant; he hadn’t seen the cleaning happen, but the dust of the basement floor matched the dust on Ford’s clothes, and his boots sported a thick layer of mud that hadn’t been there the night before, and he could put together the rest.) Along the chalk lines he added a number of candles- not the ugly squat things Stan kept around in case of a power outage or the thin, colorful ones which had been sitting in a half-empty box in the far reaches of the freezer for decades on end, but long, white, tapered candles, probably meant for some formal occasion, doubtlessly expensive. In between the circles-in-circles Ford wrote symbols, some arcane and some prosaic, some that Stan dimly remembered from old portal-fixing research (was that one from a star chart?) and some that he came across on a daily basis (that tree symbol looked just like the one on that hat Dipper always wore, and he’d seen that shooting star on one of Mabel’s sweaters, and the six-fingered hand... was obvious enough as well).

The work on all three soon turned into mere tweaking, into brushing away lines and replacing them with nearly-identical counterparts, into scraping stones against wood while adjusting their placement slight fractions of an inch, into breaking out a tool Stan dimly remembered from math class to make sure that the string patterns were aligned just so. Stan didn’t know where to look, or what to look for. He suspected that that was rather the point.

Ford came up to check on the kids and their work every so often.

He did not, Stan noted, invite them to do the same.

The last of his check-ups came hours after the summer sun had set, and while in the others Ford had ended his examinations with long lists of things that needed to be edited or redone, this time he offered only a few minor additions, the critique far outweighed by praise. The three stood together inside the unicorn hair circle as Ford rambled on about something to do with the special properties of mercury on wood.

Stan was on the outside of the circle; he couldn’t join them if he tried (and he had tried, had tried several times now, growing bolder as the hours fled by and little seemed to change). Sure, the barrier was made with sparkly hair and gemstones, and the others had no trouble scampering through what looked to the world like thin air, but for Stan it might as well have been a metal wall- it was hard and smooth and cold and even if he charged at it with all his might, Stan wasn’t so sure it’d be the one to budge.

Stan leaned back against the barrier, which came into view as he made contact, emitting a purple-tinged glow riddled with strange sigils.

“Neat trick there, I’ll give you that one.”

Ford didn’t pause his nerd rant for even a moment to show that he’d heard.

“If I knew how to make these work for, er, normal people, the Mystery Shack would have its newest attraction ready to go!”

That one merited a pause, a pause followed by Ford spitting out words rapid-fire as if to make up for lost time.

Stan could practically feel Ford’s gaze burning into the back of his head.

He didn’t turn around.

“I can see it now...” Stan held up his hands as if framing a sign. “’The Invisi-Maze: More fun than the eye can handle!’ Or somethin’ like that, anyway...”

Stan’s arms fell back as he finished gesturing, and he kept slipping as he tried to reposition himself against the awkwardly-curved barrier, eventually taking a step back altogether. He glanced briefly at the colorful barrier before it rippled back into invisibility, revealing a brother who was indeed giving him a vicious glare.

“Probably, uh, hafta get that glow thing in check first. But forget the hall of mirrors, any two-bit hole in the wall can throw together one of those, but an actual invisible maze, hell, what tourist wouldn’t pay out the nose for something like that...”

“This is more than mere fodder for some cheap tourist attraction, Sta-”

All eyes fell on Ford as he halted his speech in the middle of the word. He rubbed one hand against his temple, breaths deep and quick as he paused before speaking up again, voice rushed and with a hint of a tremor.

“Bill, you’re Bill, I know you’re Bill-”

“Grunkle Ford, what’s going on?”

“What’s he doing? Is there something we can do to help?”

Dipper grabbed Ford’s loose hand, and as Ford let his other hand drop back to his side Mabel latched onto it in turn. Ford’s breathing slowed as he squeezed the twins’ hands, though there was still a slight weakness in his voice as he responded.

“...Never mind that. More importantly, I believe I’ve been lecturing you two for far too long.” He let out a noise that was clearly intended as some manner of laugh, but fell far short of the mark. “What matters is that you’ve both done a fine job, and both of these should do quite well to help us defeat Bill.”

Ford shot Stan a quick glare. Stan shot one right back.

“In fact, take the rest of the night off. We can do any minor tweaks in the morning, but I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be tending to my own project down in the basement. I’ll see you again come morning.”

“Can we help?”

“No!”

A moment of silence fell upon the room before Ford attempted to soften his reply.

“It’s very- very delicate and complicated work, you see, and you two could use the rest anyway-”

“Sure, they’re the ones who need rest.” Stan mumbled.

If Ford heard Stan’s words, he didn’t show it.

“-so I’m sorry, but you can’t join me down there, you really can’t. Just- don’t go in the basement, no matter what, unless your life is in danger.”

“But Grunkle Ford-”

“No buts. I will come to see you in the morning. Until then, just- stay safe, stay up here, and if anything happens, if he...” Ford sighed and squeezed the twins’ hands tightly. “Just be careful. Promise me that.”

Dipper and Mabel looked up at their great-uncle’s deep eyes before nodding.

“We promise.”

“Don’t worry about us, Grunkle Ford- we’re just worried about you!”

“Don’t be.” Ford shook his head and let out another not-quite-laugh. “I’ll be fine. It will all be fine come morning. Now-” Ford released his hands from the children’s grip. “I’m going to go work. Nobody follow me.”

Ford rushed towards the basement entrance, leaving a confused Dipper and Mabel in his wake. Stan, after a brief moment of consideration, followed behind.

Ford worked at a frantic pace, sketching designs that were more and more intricate until Stan could barely make out the individual lines, measuring and re-measuring the circles and the candle placements, consuming prodigious amounts of coffee but no actual sustenance. Stan hung back for the most part, though he didn’t bother hiding from Ford’s view anymore; he made a few passing remarks, attempts to rekindle a conversation, but his words faded and died in the basement’s cold, stale air.

Stan kept his distance as Ford began to light the long, thin candles one by one, going from the outside inward; Stan hung back as Ford reached the center of the innermost circle and got out a fancy-looking knife, its hilt shimmering in the candlelight. Only as Ford pressed the knife into the palm of his hand and beads of crimson blood dripped onto the floor did Stan rush forward, suddenly keenly aware of every microscopic nerve and blood vessel that Ford might have just cut into, all the irreversible damage that might be caused by a single poorly-placed cut.

“Goddammit, Ford, be careful!”

But Ford was faster than him, it seemed, for by the time Stan reached the center Ford was already on the far side of the farthest circle, chanting some gobbledygook that might have been Latin. (Stan suddenly regretted all the times he had nodded off during Latin class.) Ford’s voice reached a crescendo, a wave of warmth passed over Stan...

And then, to Stan’s shock, Ford actually responded to him.

“Since when do you swear?”

“Since, uh, sixth grade? Seventh?” Stan shrugged. “You probably remember better than I do, I wasn’t exactly subtle-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

There was a sound Stan couldn’t quite place, something soft against stone.

“What was that?”

“I’m not getting distracted that easily.”

“No, seriously, what was that?” Stan looked to the source of the sound and saw nothing but a few clumps of dirt and pebbles- though he was pretty sure those hadn’t been there before. “Is this place caving in or something? Because that’s the sort of thing I’d like to know about sooner rather than later, ghost or no.”

“Wh- Look. We can solve this once and for all now. If you really are Stan’s ghost, just leave the circle. A ghost would have no trouble with these wards.”

“Seriously? That’s it?” Stan started floating towards Ford, whose expression was nearly indecipherable. “After all that, I just-”

Stan didn’t mean to scream.

Honestly, he didn’t. But it was only natural that he let out a yelp when he touched that first chalk line and slammed into what felt like a concrete wall and an electric fence put together. There was still no sign to the bare eye that anything was there, no glimmering wall to mark the barrier that was clearly there for him, just a point at which thin air turned into wall and pain.

“I knew it.” There was a cold fury in Ford’s voice, but also a strange melancholy. “This circle was made specifically to contain a demon, to contain you. Which it’s doing quite well, I might add.”

Stan tried to push through, to break whatever barrier those chalk lines had built up, but though he put all his force into it, the only sign that he was doing anything was a few measly sparks and an ever-increasing amount of pain.

Finally Stan fell back, retreating into the circle’s center, not sure that he was ready to concede defeat just yet but willing to at least give himself a little time to recover.

“If- if this thing only works against demons, then...” Stan put together the pieces quickly enough, though he didn’t much like the picture they painted. “Wait, humans can become demons? Does that mean Bill was-”

“No. Humans are humans, demons are demons, and that’s that.”

“Well, the world kind of went topsy-turvy yesterday, clearly a few things must have gone by the wayside...”

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me of that.” Ford reached into his jacket and pulled out a box nearly as long as he was tall, setting it on the floor- there was a yellow label on the box, and Stan could just barely make out the word Experiment, followed by a three-digit number. “I’m going to make sure you never pull a stunt like that again.”

What Ford grabbed when he opened the box turned out to be a gun- a huge, sci-fi-looking gun, and Ford probably would’ve used fancier words to describe it, but Stan knew a gun when he saw one. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself on the wrong end of one, either, but as Ford’s aim grew more precise, Stan was beginning to suspect that it would be the last.

“Your reign of terror ends here, Bill.”

“No, wait-” Stan flew upwards as fast as he could, but well before he could reach the ceiling one of those invisible barriers jolted him, sending him reeling back towards the floor. “-c’mon, Ford, don’t do this to me, please-” He tried to swerve, to maneuver around as much as he could to avoid whatever that sci-fi gun had in store for him, but there just wasn’t enough room, and the muzzle was glowing blue and Stan didn’t know exactly what that meant but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good news for him...

For one brief moment, Stan and Ford looked each other in the eye, and Stan silently pleaded to his brother to think twice, tried to save himself without words at a time when words failed him-

-but Ford closed his eyes as his finger twitched against the trigger.

THUMP!

Ford’s aim went awry as the sudden noise distracted him, and the shot landed not on Stan’s head or torso but on his left pinky finger, a grazing shot that nonetheless hurt like hell. What the shot had touched, it had obliterated, leaving Stan with only four fingers remaining on his hand- until, as he watched, bone and muscle and skin appeared out of thin air and stitched itself back together, and after a few long, painful seconds his pinky was back, with no sign left to show that it had ever vanished in the first place.

Ford was watching Stan too, a somber look upon his face as Stan’s finger rebuilt itself, so neither of the two had actually looked over at the source of the sudden sound until-

“Grunkle Ford, what are you doing?”

Both Stan and Ford spun around to find that where there had been nothing but a few rocks, there now stood both Dipper and Mabel, the two wide-eyed and covered in dirt.

“What are you doing?” Ford retorted. “I told you two to stay upstairs!”

“Yeah... about that...” Dipper scratched the back of his head nervously, while Mabel shot Ford a sheepish smile.

“You were acting... kinda suspicious. So I may have- sort of- followed you down here to see what was going on. And once I saw Grunkle Stan I went and got Dipper and-”

“How? I would have heard you using the elevator...”

Before Ford could finish his sentence, Mabel brought out her tool of choice and pointed it triumphantly in the air. “Grappling hook!”

“Wait, wait, wait...” Stan jumped in, and all eyes turned to face him. “You can see me?”

Dipper and Mabel both nodded and made noises of agreement, their wide eyes growing even wider.

Ford impatiently tapped his foot against the ground. “Of course they can see you, it’s a summoning circle, the whole point is that you’re physical until the summons ends-”

“Holy shit, you can- er- don’t tell your parents I said shit, okay?” After a moment’s thought, Stan added, “Actually, don’t tell your parents about any of this. That seems like a bad idea all around.”

“Was this your plan all along, Bill, to drag them into this?”

“Was your plan all along just to shoot me?” Ford stayed silent in the face of this accusation, and Stan, all too aware that Ford’s gun was still aimed in his general direction, pressed on. “All those fancy circles and lines and- it was all just a distraction, wasn’t it?” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have known- a classic shell game right there.”

Mabel wrinkled her nose and tilted her head to one side. “A what now?”

“A shell game- you know-” Stan’s hands flailed around in a series of awkward gestures as he attempted an explanation. “-you get three cups and put a ball under one, and move the cups around a bunch and get people to bet on which cup the ball is under, and by the time those rich guys realize you’re palming the ball halfway through you’re walking away a couple hundred dollars richer.” Stan coughed and scratched the back of his neck nervously in the silence that followed. “Uh, not that I’ve done it myself. And you shouldn’t either, it’s a bad idea. Especially once the cops get involved.”

Ford adjusted his glasses before speaking up. “That... is a surprisingly apt metaphor.”

“Was that a compliment? That sounded suspiciously like a compliment.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Grunkle Ford...” Mabel’s speech was hesitant as she looked from one grunkle to the other. “...were you really going to shoot Grunkle Stan?”

Ford let out a long sigh before responding, resting one hand on Mabel’s shoulder in a gesture of solace. “I’m sorry, Mabel, but that?” Ford pointed to Stan. “That’s Bill. He’s been taking that form this whole time. That is not your uncle.”

“You mean…” Mabel looked at Stan with eyes full of sorrow. “I-in my dream… that was you, wasn’t it?”

Stan let out a long sigh before he could reply, grasping desperately for the right words, but all that came to him was a simple “I’m sorry, Mabel.”

“Don’t…” Mabel started, but the sentence trailed off without an end. Evidently Stan wasn’t the only one desperately scrambling for words.

“But we’ve got him now. Bill’s trapped in that circle, and one good shot from this-” Ford gestured awkwardly in Stan’s direction with his gun. “-will be enough to destroy him for good.”

Ford started aiming, but his arm was shaking and his fingers trembling and Dipper and Mabel were in front of him now, off to the side but only just- too close, much too close for comfort-

“Dipper, Mabel, for Pete’s sake get out of the way!”

Stan hadn’t meant for the words to be more than a mere whisper, hadn’t really expected the kids to heed his warning, but the words echoed through the stone chamber all the same, and all eyes turned to him.

Mabel looked at Ford, then at Stan, before taking a step forward. “No.”

“What?” Stan and Ford asked in near-unison.

“I said, no! I won’t get out of the way!” Mabel walked- no, ran towards the circle, passing through its chalk lines with ease before standing directly in front of Stan, her arms waving wildly in the air. “If you’re gonna shoot Grunkle Stan, you’re gonna have to go through me!”

Ford lowered his gun, though his grip on it remained tight.

“A-and me!” Dipper didn’t move quite as fast as Mabel had, and his eyes stayed glued to the ground until after he had navigated the last of the chalk lines, but when he turned to face Ford, his gaze was just as fierce as his sister’s. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing?” Ford’s voice was hoarse and anguished. “Bill knows you care about Stan, he’s- he’s using that against us, using that to-”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.”

Dipper and Mabel looked up at Stan as he spoke, and Stan took that opportunity to grab them both, holding them at arm’s length away from him. They felt light as a feather, their weight barely even registering to him, and though they squirmed and struggled it was a cinch to keep them more or less in place.

“Neither of you pipsqueaks are dying on my account, got it?”

The only response Stan got was a few noises of protest and one solid bite to the arm, but then, he hadn’t been expecting much else.

“You want to kill me, Ford? Well, here’s your chance. Got a nice, clean shot for you here. No shields, no distractions, no nothin’. Just get it over with so you and the kids can go about your lives already.” After a moment’s pause, Stan added, “And for God’s sake, don’t close your eyes when you shoot this time.”

Stan locked eyes with his brother; Ford was doing an admirable job of keeping a neutral expression. For a moment, Stan thought he saw the gun moving out of the corner of his eye, thought he saw it rising up to point his way once more-

Clang!

The gun hit the ground near Ford’s feet, and Ford’s now-empty hands were shaking violently.

“I... I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I, Stanley?”

“Yup.” Stan loosened his grip on Dipper and Mabel, and as the two stood by his side, Stan couldn’t help but break out into a grin. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Ford smiled back at Stan, and the sight made his heart soar. “Evidently not.”

“I think this calls for a GROUP HUG!”

Stan winced a little as Mabel shrieked into his ear; she may have felt light in his hands, but her voice was clearly as loud as ever. “Mabel, I don’t think F-”

“Well, if you insist...”

Ford walked towards Stan, his steps slow and deliberate as he stepped between the chalk lines. Dipper and Mabel grabbed onto Stan and embraced him tightly, and once Ford entered the center circle they embraced him as well. Stan was slow to embrace them back, half-expecting that his arm would pass through them as it had before, but no, they were there and they were real and he could feel their warmth as they clung to him and if he were still human Stan might have been concerned that Mabel’s tight grip was going to cut off his circulation, but that was one small upside of the situation, that he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore...

Stan wasn’t sure when, exactly, Ford joined the hug, but soon enough Stan realized that the kids alone couldn’t account for all the limbs latching onto him, and once he focused on it he could tell that yes, there was definitely a six-fingered hand patting him on the back. For one shining moment they were all there, all together, all hugging, and Stan knew deep down that despite all the shit he’d gone through, things were going to be okay, at least more or less.

Then Mabel lifted her hands into the air and screamed “GROUP HUG!” again and the group broke apart a little bit, though they were still close, still nearly touching as they faced one another in the circle.

Stan was the first to speak up after that.

“So, uh, Ford, you said something earlier about this circle making me physical, right? How’s all that work?”

Ford nodded and took a breath before replying. “It’s a summoning circle, it binds demons- which, in this case means you I suppose- I, I still don’t know how that works-” Stan was pretty sure that even if he hadn’t been looking right at Ford, he still would have felt the force of his brother’s wide-eyed gaze as he hesitated for a moment and looked him at him up and down before continuing. (Stan glanced downward for a brief moment and realized that his feet still weren’t quite touching the floor.) “-anyway, it binds demons to the physical plane temporarily, until one of two things happens: either we make a deal-”

“Not happening.” Stan interjected.

“Or... or the summons runs out of time.”

“And then these numbskulls-” Stan wrapped one arm around Dipper and the other around Mabel. “-won’t be able to see me anymore?”

“Not unless we perform another summoning, no.”

“Alright. So.” Stan’s grasp on Dipper and Mabel grew slightly tighter. “You’re the brainiac here, Ford, so tell me. How long have we got?”

[the-voice-of-hell]

STARS VOLUPTUOUS

This is an entry in a choose your own adventure.  Probably not worth reading ‘til it’s finished.

The robots exchanged looks with each other, unknown meaning passing between them.  Ferdinand shook himself out of the moment.  He seemed easily distracted, for a computer.  But he presented himself for your service.  “Thank you.  Let’s get you some rest.”

Ferdinand had to make a quick stop in a closed room to change into some rather casual clothes.  This was the off season, after all.  He came out in blue jeans, low work boots, and a leather jacket over a black tank top.  Most of the garments perfectly hung from his powerful physique, leaving little to the imagination, but the jacket was of course more concealing.

It exaggerated the already impressive set of this shoulders and decorated him like an ancient warrior.  One sleeve had a constellation of rivets, the other had metal sculptural elements overlapping and clinking against each other - strong-bodied men wrestling, skulls, art deco motifs, all topped with an eagle framing the mess in his wings.  The back of the jacket had a complex occult pattern and the word PROSPERO arching through it in stainless steel letters.

He flexed to settle the jacket on his arms, leather making its little noises of excitement, then smiled at you.  “It’s my favorite jacket.  Whaddya think?”

“It’s fancy,” you said.

“Guess I’m a fancy guy.  C’mon.”

While you’d been waiting for him, a little boxy maintenance robot had been rolling down the hall toward you from a great distance away, creating a slight feeling of tension in your mind.  By then, it was nearly upon you.

Ferdinand hadn’t been looking at it or seemingly taking any notice of it, but when it rolled straight toward his legs, he casually stepped over it without looking down.  He led you down the way it had come from, and you couldn’t help glance back at it as it rolled away.  Did he just have killer reflexes, or had he sensed its presence?  You knew it was possible all the robots and computers in this place were networked to where they’d have full awareness of each other at all times.

You were passing through a hotel-like area of the station with fake wood paneling and softly lit ceilings, but everything was slowly breaking apart here.  A section of panel missing here, the floor panels giving way to concrete there.  The atmosphere was having to engage as you passed into areas, in acknowledgement that breathing people seldom tread this area.

“Staff get to sleep in the outer chambers.  Used to be maintained same as the rest of Moon, but business ain’t quite what it used to be, so maintenance and power focus on the rooms closest to the great hall.  That’s nice because we don’t always hafta sleep in closets.  Got whole rooms to ourselves.”

“And I’m staff now?,” you asked.  Just another robot.

“What?  No, naw, you’re… I guess she made it sound like that, didn’t she?”

“She did.  Any idea what kind of work I’m gonna be expected to do?”

“I’m sure it’ll just be maintenance.  People can’t do the things we can do - for customers.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just, um… Nevermind, it’s nothin’.  Hey lookit that.”

You saw an irregular white pillar stretching from one open atmo vent to another.  As you got closer, you saw that it was actually a chain of tiny fairies holding hands.  They ranged in height from two to six inches, some with wings and some without, mostly nude.  They rocked and swayed as they passed through the hall and disappeared into the vent.

“What the hell?,” you asked.

“Toys.  Some customers hafta bring their kids.  Those little guys can entertain ‘em.”

“Never seen robots that small that still bothered trying to look like anything.”

“Yeah, they’re somethin’ else.”

“Do they all have individual personalities?”

“Points of view.  They’re all about the same, but work independent.  About as smart as rats.”

You shook your head in amazement.  Maybe you should have visited more places like this in your time wandering the cosmos.  Now you had to get to know it from the perspective of a maintenance robot.

You tried to find out about Ferdinand.

You tried to find out about the other robots.

You tried to find out about Madam Thebe.

[zacknano17]

Day 10 : words 18,001 - 20,024

In which, the boys come clean.

“That sounds right to me,” Magnus says, uncertainly.  He has no idea how these things work.

Merle nods and pulls out his X-treme Teen Bible, his hands glowing slightly as he holds it.  He closes his eyes and murmurs something.  Magnus wonders how long this is going to take.  He doesn't understand much about magic.

It's maybe thirty seconds when Merle opens his eyes again.  “Taako is that way,” he says, and one wooden finger is pointed directly toward Wedding Wonders.

Magnus curses under his breath and goes to pull Railsplitter off of his back.

“Whoa, whoa, cowboy, I know your M.O. is rush on in and beat everything to hell, but did you consider the possibility that he's actually in there, havin' a meeting with her?” Merle asks.

Magnus pauses, his hand hovering a few inches away from the handle.  “It'd be an awful long meeting, if that was the case,” he says slowly.

“All right, but if we go in guns ablazin', that'll be bad for Taako if he's not okay in there.”

Fuck. “So what do we do?”

“Maybe we go in and apologize for being late for the meeting?  With any luck, then they'll take us wherever Taako is, and...uh, we improvise from there.”

“I mean...I guess?  What if they don't let us in?”

“Well, then you can get out that axe, maybe.”

It's as good a plan as any, and Merle is probably right that Magnus' typical strategy of rushing in isn't going to be great in a business setting.  He leaves Railsplitter where it is and drops his hands to his sides.

“Okay, let's do this, then.”

Everything seems quite normal at Wedding Wonders.  Merle and Magnus open the door and step within to the lobby area.  Salvatore looks up from the desk and stands up, albeit, rather...stiffly?

“Ah, greetings welcome to Wedding Wonders.  My name is Salvatore.  How may I help you today?” he asks, either not recognizing them or pretending very well not to.

“Hi, Salvatore.  Magnus Burnsides,” Magnus says, striding into the room. As far as he can tell, the orc isn't armed, but that doesn't mean he isn't ready for a fight.  “I'm, um, my, uh, my fiance, Taako, had an appointment today, and we sorta...forgot...”

“Long day,” Merle puts in.  “We were plannin' the Bachelor Party.”

“...right. Anyway, are we too late?  He's still here, right?”

“Oh dear.”  Salvatore sits back down and flips open a thick appointment book.  “No, sirs, I'm afraid Sir Taako never arrived for his meeting today.  We were unable to get a hold of him on his Stone.”

Magnus gives a sideways glance to Merle.

“Are you...sure?” he asks.  “Maybe he showed up while you were on lunch or somethin', and Ms. Joiner let him in herself?”

“I'm quite certain, sir.  I did take a lunch, but it was well before the time of Sir Taako's meeting,” he explains, closing the book again.

“Could we, uh, just...come in...and see for ourselves if he's here...?”

“I'm afraid I cannot let you do that.  This is private property, sir.”

Magnus sighs a little.  At this point, there's no point in continuing the bluff.  Salvatore isn't going to let them in, and they have hard proof that Taako is here.  The fact that Salvatore is either lying or has legitimately not seen Taako just makes it more suspicious.

He decides to make a gamble.

“Listen. Salvatore, buddy.  We haven't been entirely forthcoming thus far. See, here's the deal,” he says, carefully.  “There's a certain...item that, well, it seems like a really great thing at first?  It's really, really powerful, and it helps people do some real dope shit.  But eventually, items like these, they start fucking up the people who use them.  We're employed with a...an organization whose job it is to protect people from these things.  We tracked the item to here.  Think you can help us out with this one?”

Salvatore considers for a long moment.  “I'm afraid I don't have any knowledge of any artifacts in our possession,” he says slowly.

“Please, Salvatore, if you know anything, let us know.  These things are like super dangerous.”

Merle nods.  “Yeah, we found one that literally leveled an entire city in about thirty seconds, and one of them nearly turned the entire world to crystal -- and not even like a cool blue crystal, or somethin', it was this nauseating shade of pink.”

“I thought it was kind of a nice color, actually,” Magnus says.

“Well, I did too, until it tried to eat my arm.  Oh, yeah!  And this artifact thingy made this yahoo cut off my arm!”  Merle wiggles his wooden fingers.

“Oh...oh my,” Salvatore says.

“Salvatore, you care about your boss, right?” Magnus asks.

Salvatore remains silent.

“Nobody can control these things.  We don't want to hurt Rebekah, my man.  We want to help her,” Magnus continues.

“And you don't hafta pretend Taako isn't here.  We're not like level 1 here or nothin'.”

There is another long silence, and Magnus begins to suspect that they are going to have to fight their way in, which he would honestly really like to avoid.  He doesn't particularly like Salvatore, but he doesn't seem like a bad guy either.

“I won't let you hurt her,” Salvatore finally says.  “I know of the object you speak of, and I know that she won't give it up easily.”

“We don't want to hurt her,” Merle insists.

“Yeah. But the longer that thing is possessing her, the less of her there will be.  Trust me on this.  We've seen two people get completely consumed by these things, and I'm really not interested in seeing that ever again,” Magnus adds.  “We might need to hurt her to get the Relic, but our goal here is to save her.”

“I won't be a part of hurting her,” Salvatore says again.  “She isn't -- she wasn't always like this.  She's a good person, and she doesn't deserve that.”

“I understand that.”

“You might, but I don't think you'll be able to keep a promise to not hurt her when you find out what she's done,” Salvatore admits.  He removes the pince-nez he had been wearing and lays it down on the desk.  “She isn't a bad person, but...grief does strange things.”

“Grief? What do you mean?” Magnus asks.

But Salvatore shakes his head.  “I'm afraid I've overstepped my bounds. It is not my story to tell,” he says.  “I will lead you to her and your friend, but you must leave your weapons here.”

“No way!” Merle insists.  “You're asking us to get ourselves killed? I don't think so.”

“She isn't a murderer,” Salvatore says, sharply.

“Yeah, we've heard that before.  The artifacts might seem benign at first, but all they want, in the end, is destruction,” Magnus explains.  “If you won't let us in with our weapons, then we'll need to duke this out here.  I can't promise we won't hurt Rebekah. I can't even promise she'll live through it.  But I can promise that we'll do our best to help her, and I can promise that if we win, no one will ever be hurt by that Relic again.”

Salvatore stands up.  He cracks his knuckles and looks down his nose at the two of them.  “I fight on her side in this,” he says, his voice gruff.  “But I will allow you to defend yourselves, if it comes to that.”  He turns to leave the room.  “Please follow me.”

Taako is aware of very little around him for a long while.  He doesn't fall asleep, exactly, but he is in sort of a fugue state, in between consciousness and unconsciousness.  He is aware, dimly, that his body is moving, and that he is not moving it.  He finds himself unable to do much about that.

By the time he is able to really snap out of it, he finds himself lying on a hard surface on his back, staring up at an unfinished ceiling. He can see wooden rafters and small windows set at the tops of the walls.  He must be in a basement somewhere, he thinks.  Upon further inspection, he finds that something cold and hard and very strong holds down either of his arms and legs.

Okay. Cool.  That's a new one.

He looks around, blinking against the cloudiness still lingering in his brain.  He can't quite remember the exact circumstances that brought him to this place.  He remembers being mad at Magnus...leaving the tavern...going to Wedding Wonders...then...?

“Oh, you're awake.”

It's Rebekah's voice, and he jerks his head to the side.  She's sitting on a wooden stool at a table nearby.  The Oculus is on her face, glinting slightly with that magical glow.  Around it, her skin seems...strange.  It's growing what appear to be tiny fissures as though her skin is made of porcelain and someone has cracked it.  He is certain that hadn't been there earlier.

“Um, no offense, but...what the fuck?” Taako asks.  He is beginning to remember being cornered, going for his staff...then what?

“I wanted to ask you a few questions, Taako,” Rebekah says.  “And then I have, um, a little job for you.”

“This isn't a great way to gain my cooperation, you know.”

“Oh, I don't need your cooperation.  I just need...well, uh, we'll get to that later.”  She looks a little uncomfortable, but then she shakes her head and looks back at him.  “I know you're here for this.” She taps the little monocle with her forefinger.

There isn't really any point in continuing the charade.  “Yeah,” he says.

“Why? Who sent you?”

“Um. It's a little hard to explain,” he says, carefully.  “I work for...an organization that destroys artifacts like your monocle. Dunno if you've realized it yet, but that thing is going to fuck you up real good if you keep using it.  I can already see it on your face.”

She cocks her head to the side, and he can see that the fissures are far more pronounced than he had thought earlier.  She must have been using some sort of illusion magic to hide them before.

“Can it really be destroyed?” she asks.

“Yeah, I've seen three of these things get trashed already.  That one's next.”

She doesn't seem convinced.

“It'd be like super great if you could unfasten these bindings and, um, let me see that monocle thing.  I swear, I can take care of all of this for you.”

At that, her face twists into a strange smile, and she laughs.  “Take care of it?  Are you kidding me?  This thing grants me incredible power!  I can...I can create anything that I can imagine! Wedding Wonders?  That's nothing.  That doesn't even scratch the surface of this artifact's power,” she tells him, and he feels his stomach sink a little bit.  These words remind him of Sloane, and of what had become of her.

“There's something else I'm trying to do here, Taako.  Something far more important than making pretty weddings happen for people.”  She hops off of her stool and walks a little closer to him.  “See, some bad things happened a little while ago for me, and...and with this monocle, I can fix those things.  I can make them like...like they never even happened!  That's where you come in.  I just need to do a little more research.”

Taako has no idea what to make of that.  “I'm not going to help you research anything,” he insists.  “I mean, I get it, I'm a pretty dope wizard and all, so it makes sense to ask me, but, sorry, thug, I ain't about to help you to shit, so long as you got that eyepiece.”