#weird one shots for halloween :V

[kscribbs]

Witchy Lucy on/near Halloween is becoming something of a tradition, I fear.

This time she's a kind of a witch/Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas hybrid, though. The whole Presumed Unrequited But In Actuality Very Much Requited Love element of ML has always reminded me v much of Sally and Jack (Skellington's) dynamic.

After finishing both this and an alternative doodle, however, I realised that ML Luce would probably enjoy dressing as something science or medicine-related for Halloween.

I feel it incumbent on me to inform you, therefore, that, as well as going as Sally this year, for Halloweekend 2 she went as a misfolded protein. Because there's nothing more blood-curdling than prion disease. And the year before she was Plague Doctor Barbie (Barbie Summer and all). And the year before that she was False Vacuum Decay. Or maybe an Anthrax Spore. Or antibiotic resistance. Or the Hindenburg Uncertainty Principle. Or noble gas (you only need a crown and a whoopee cushion for that one).

I can also see her going as cluster of protons and neutrons and having Jack flounce around her all night as an electron. Mans will indeed do whatever the hell she wants; in fact he's content to help her bring any of the above concepts to life, no matter how convoluted or nerdy. ❤️

Trying to draw said concepts however presented something of a challenge, so for now -- witch Lusally. And also the 'my cute/hot/etc. witch/goth gf/wife' meme bc I've been itching to do it for months now! ☺️

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎃nightmare suit groovies~🎃

***Spoilers below the cut!! Please note: The R cards (Azul, Epel, Vil, Malleus) do not have new illustrations.***

OH MY GOD STOOOOP 😭 NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS CHARACTER CAMEOS IN THE GROOVIES??? ?? ?????? ??!???!? ?? ??? YOU MIGHT AS GFWELL WALK RIGHT UP TO ME AND IRiP MY FRIGIGN HEART OT RIGHT NOW

wWAHASL,ADFJHHDUPGFFI42T69O38QGPEGBIP;DGN;GDN;J J WORD SQUASHED U P IN THE AMYOR'S LITTLE CAR.. . . ....... . . . ... . . .. . ...... . . . OTL With the hair pushed back like that, teeth out, and eyes lidded, Jade almost looks like Floyd here. I THPOGU TI WOULDN'T BE sURIRPISED BY HIS SMIELS ANYMORE BUT I GUESS SI AWAS WRONG... This smile's very different than his unhinged/suspicious/evil ones and his pure ones, it's charming but more on the relaxed side. I also noticed the teeth are wider than usual (again, very Floyd-like), Jade's are narrower/smaller.

I like Trey's Groovy a ton! A lot more than I thought I would, actually. The blueish lighting and him looming over Sally's pot reminds me of his Club Wear card. ahdbasdlai There's also a slight sheen to his eyes, so Trey comes off like he's fascinated by her cooking and wants to learn more about Sally's techniques. He looks slightly shady too though, like some drug dealer inspecting the goods...

FHLBOQYW8QYFAFWI LRIDDLE'S RIDING IN THE CURSED CHILDREN'S BATHTUB... It's a little terrifying how hyperdetailed Lock, Shock, and Barrel's faces are and how they're all staring right at the camera. Riddle seems so calm, glancing at you over his shoulder with a little smirk. I usually don't use this adjective for him, but it makes Riddle feel cool! And since the image is shot from a slight worm's eye view angle, it gives him the illusion of being taller than he actually is--

Go figure, you slap the mad scientist character with the mad scientist of Halloween Town. Perfect pairing, honestly. I get very similar vibes between Idia and Dr. Finkelstein as I did with Trey and Sally; Idia is showing a real interest in the good (?) doctor's work and they appear to be deep in a discussion about it. The way Idia is bending over the table adgvkadsdval it kinda gives his body a more... triangular shape... that I just KNOW bro doesn't actually have. His face here seems more elegant than usual, almost Vil-like.

Thanks for the uncalled for viewing of the underside of your boot, Sebek 💀asjldboaysvyfevfeq I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS, he's trying so hard to come off as intimidating but I cannot see him as "the boss", even if he is posed like one. Give that jack 'o lantern some credit though, it sure is doing a fine job of supporting Sebek's big ol' beefy arm. Jack Skellington in the back is also sending me... Is he supposed to be intimidating??? That positioning just makes me think of someone leaning against a doorframe and trying to flirt by calling you their babygirl. GHBLIABFYIABFIAF ANYWAY I DON'T THINK THIS GROOVY WAS FOR ME

... wHAT THEFUCK. That was NOT what I expected of Jamil's Groovy. First was the weird pumpkin stroking, now bro's dancing with skeletons?????? IS THIS JUST WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'REEMOTIONALLY REPREssED YOUR ENTIRE LIFE... YOU POP OFF AND DO THE MOST OUT OF PocKET THINGS FOR FUNSIES?????? Jamil looks so smug as he's doing it too, it feels like he's shittalking you like a Mean Girl while he's busting a sick dance move. (Cameo: his toof) Jack in the background also looks the most sinister of all the SSRs. That combination of laughter and showing off his teeth... Unsettling.

.

.

.

waht the hell. What HTBbr heLL. WHAT THE ACUTLA EHLLMIS THIIISISISISISSJISISISSSZ>/>?????w?f>fwlwkwfkfwjfwjkqljirtfyqnNOEGWOQG.,P57KIRJEI0RW08J:????>f>>fw>f>fw<wf<q>:q?q>v?v?v?v??gogibopobfuiibadh wnethuhw

WHYT THEUFKC FDUCC DOES THIS SLAP SO HARFZD OTL

ADSHJFIAGVTFVUOQEFVUBKQDWLGYQERGYOQF evyEROYNTHING AB OITU T THIS IS JSUT.... AKJBFLIUHADFIADFLF RIGHT UP MY lallEY... The extreme bird's eye view angle????? Jack with his arms crossed and that skeletal smirk??? Zero's little duck beak-shaped mouth?? The eerie green glow emanating from the fountain water below them? NLBVHDSKIUEGFABOGVSAEFYIPodp D nad HE WHOS HALL NOT BE NAMED V,NJ DBIOADFVIYOADFOTVFE8AYPFIEGWOBPFQEBOVGWIPEGBSNMVPOADVBN;DDBK;RWHOUGWBIQEPGNJQEG TH wE WHAYT THE FUCKCING ANGLR FRAMES HIS TITS AND MAKES HIS LEGS LOOKN EXTRA LONG, THE GRIBGKDJULBADFLBAFD CAPE WSWISHinG EVEYRWHERE, THe LIGHTONIGF FON HIS AHDNNEOMS E DAFACE, THE FUIDFSLBDFBKHAEFLBHQEFALBFEAL FA HADN TTHE FEGRIIGGING HAND HE'S OVFFERINGF TO YOU7? ? ???????? ? ?b?@??gb ? ? ? ? ? ?b>b>KNBNRIOBIGEBOYVDOGY8EANOapnjbgywt80pboqegwp,m iS THIS FUCKING BITCH ASKING FOR OUR HAND??? ? ?? ?? ?DOOahaaHAHhhghghghhghhgHHHHHhhhHHHHARRHRHGHGHGHGHHHHGHGHGHGHHHHHH HH H HHHH H H H H H I WANNNA bE SANDED TO BE PUT ouT OF MY MiSERY, I'M TAKING SO JCMUCH PSYCHICHDAMAG E I CAN'T TAKE IT I';N M GOINC CGATRAZXY. .. . . .BVL;,DFIPTOTO OT LTLTKT FLFL BHIVUASFOVUAFSA

gGUSY I THINK TI',M GDON E FOR, IT'S LEoVER FOR ME I SPENT SO LONG DENYRINH IT I DIDN'T WANNA ADMITR IT FOR MY OWN PRIDE BUT I'M DONE fRO I'M A GONRER BYE IT'S JFDAUBIADGOVUAFODUTVEFTI7EFWOIAVD;LIVOYGPGWEFQOIGYEQPgkjd TIUFQETO3R1QEFOTFQEG.5OIMH903GW9UPBAfpjFOVHDN;./'[;,KP[K,[LN,,L>:c<<l:LBHIDABIOUFPAOYGVEQBFPGWBPGHLGWBPQEFPGIAE whnEN YOU YSEE ME DNEXT I'M OGNNA BE LAid OUT IN A PIUMPKING PATCH DECATINGF CUZ THSI GROOVFY KILELD ME

[buttercupblu]

i wanna fucking tear you apart

Vampire SuguChoso x Reader|Halloween Special Three-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: oh god, where do we begin? let's start in the home of the supernatural, shall we? the great city of New Orleans. and you are absolutely about to shit bricks for having to return here, and not for a reason any sane person would believe. you don't even want to say it out loud and make it real, make them real. but you have to find them, someone's life is at stake if you don't. and the worst part? you reluctantly have to rely on someone, something you've spent years convincing yourself was just a figment of your imagination. be careful reader—or not, you seem to get off on that—because you're about to walk headfirst into something that's going to change your entire world and make you question everything you swore you'd never believe in. w.c: issa surprise. whoever gets the closest, gets a drabble of their choice (restrictions apply. i have to be familiar with the show/story. drop an ask to participate :3) tags: summoning ritual w/ special guest possessive Ghost Gojo who is annoying asf as always but even moreso bc now he can bounce all over the place, ghostly touches, hands up skirts, no bathroom privacy?, taunting and flirting through sexual assault, he's obsessed with your smell and is a panty-sniffer 🧍🏾‍♀️, cunnilingus, fingering, P in V and literally getting the breath knocked out of you, creampie? (you'll understand), coercion for a taste, rutting, and you don't know if you hate him for all of it by the end of the beginning of your journey angel’s note: Satoru...please.. earworm 🐛: tonight you belong to me remix, or the original by Patience and Prudence, it's creepier in my opinion but such a great song

—Believing—

You don't believe in vampires.

So why in the entire fuck are you standing outside of a restaurant hoping you'll be able to talk to a ghost?

You glance up at the sinking sun, the sky bruising with dusk as the nervous tap of your heel against the cobblestone almost syncs with your heart.

Be cool, be cool.

Surely no one's noticed you sitting here for the past 30 minutes, fidgeting with your fingers, mentally pacing back and forth trying to decide if you'll walk through those doors you haven't opened in 6 years.

Those pale green doors that hold centuries worth of secrets that can never escape.

Including...

But what if all of that was just in your head?

You were younger back then, new to New Orleans, and all those stories, legends, and creepy tales could have easily messed with you.

No.

You know what you saw.

What you felt.

What you heard. His voice. That smile...

Your chest feels like a knot tied too tight, yet a strange hope flutters beneath the nerves.

Hope that the past wasn't just some weird trick your mind played on you.

Because you could never forget it.

You just hope he hasn't forgotten you.

You take a breath watching the sun finally slip behind the horizon of the place of your eerie past. The old, chipped sign still hanging crooked above the door, and wrought-iron lanterns cast orange halos on the cracked sidewalk.

Closing time is near, and so is the truth you came here for.

But will this be another bust? Or will you finally get to confirm that all of it was real?

It has to be, he has to be...because he's the only one who can help you find where they are. If they even truly exist.

And the second you finally muster up the strength to face and push through those heavy, creaking doors, there's no turning back.

Walking in feels like you've gone back in time, and everything is just as you left it.

"Hi, welcome to Muriel's." The hostess greets you with a smile that you try to reflect back, hoping that she won't notice your nerves—or worse, that someone from your past will recognize you. "Just to let you know, we will be closing in about 30 to 35 minutes but you are welcome to dine in or takeout." And her eyes drift over your less-than-formal attire, a slight flicker of curiosity in her expression, but her pleasant smile never wavers.

You clear your throat. "Dine in, please," you say, and she nods, tucking a menu and silverware under her arm before leading you through the over-the-top space—each step digging you further into the rabbit hole. The details of what you left behind propels you back into the past, and suddenly you're 19 again, juggling plates and wiping down tables under the watchful gaze of the old regulars. When you last worked here.

The hum of conversation fills the space, but you tune it out, your eyes scanning for familiar things. What the restaurant purposefully lacks on the outside, is equally lacking on the inside.

The tables, dressed in those heavy burgundy cloths. The stuffy velvet chairs, more decoration than comfort. The twinkling glass chandelier that always sparkled a little too brightly for the dark, moody space, and the drapey curtains, still tacky as ever, decorate the walls and clash between the old-world elegance and overdone theatrics.

The bar stools are still worn in the same places, and the corner booth where the kitchen staff would gather to sneaks shots of whiskey after closing still stands strong.

You don't see anyone you recognize—thankfully—but the atmosphere still feels the same. Especially when it seems like the walls are watching you, their quiet judgment as thick and heavy as the air filled with the smell of fried shrimp, garlic, and something bitterly sweet, like old wine left to ferment for too long.

Walking past the table where you used to sit with your tips, counting down the hours until closing and sweet escape, feels heavy, and every step after is like pulling back a curtain on memories you buried deep, unsure if they ever really even happened. But every flicker of light, every clink of glass, makes your heart race just a little—confirming some kind of PTSD because even if your brain doesn't remember, your body does.

The whispers. The rattling. The presence. Always there, but never seen.

Showing up here almost every single day was definitely the bane of your existence, but you couldn't just quit, not back then.

You needed the money to make ends meet, especially when you chose to go to school out of state.

A broke college student struggling to stay afloat in the wild and "haunted" streets of New Orleans where every shadow told a story and every corner whispered a myth.

NOLA, of all places: home of the supernatural you've never believed, and yet here you are, purposely choosing to have a seat at its table. And nervously glancing over at thee table, perfectly set as if waiting for someone special, yet desolate and tucked away from the rest. The phantom feeling of what happened there years ago creeps through your body as you pick at your meal, trying to ignore the urge to bolt on what you think is the stupidest plan you've ever had in your entire life.

By the time you finish up, your heart is pounding, but despite being the worst place you've ever worked in, the food is still as good as you remembered. It always felt like a home you've never visited, soothing your body and making you fight tendrils of sleep.

The restaurant quiets as the final patrons start to leave and you're one of the last stragglers. You pay your tip and stack your dishes out of habit, and now the real waiting begins. "Shut up, shut up," you say to your gut feeling. "I can do this." And you take one last deep breath and yourself before you head towards where everything first went down: the bathroom.

The long, narrow corridor seems darker than ever, the black walls and red carpet only adding to the sense of isolation where you'll be camping out until closing.

You catch a glimpse in the large mirror and pause, barely recognizing yourself—nerves tightening your expression, tension locking your shoulders.

You look like you've already seen the ghost you've come to meet, but give yourself a reassuring head nod, though it feels hollow. Nevertheless, you enter the stall where it all began. Of all the places to meet a ghost...it had to be while you were hovering over a toilet seat. That perv.

Crouching into place, you pull your knees into your chest and try to steady your nerves, listening to the sounds of the restaurant closing—clattering dishes, murmuring voices—all of it mingling with your thumping heartbeat.

This is so stupid, you think, hiding in here like this, feeling so ridiculous you try not to laugh at the sheer stupidity of it all. But the thought of backing out now and being like "Oops, my bad." to the staff feels even crazier. You're officially in too deep to turn back now.

You shift in your spot and try to get comfortable, knowing that closing can take quite a while in a place this large and "fancy". But your anxiety is not having it, and you nearly lose your balance, your feet slipping and almost falling into the bowl. You curse, gripping the sides of the stall for stability when you freeze, swearing that you heard a snicker.

You hold your breath thinking you've been caught, but when a silent moment passes then two, you huff and shake your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. You know must be hearing things but fuck, how long is this going to take?

It's nerve-wracking when the staff do finally come in to do bathroom checks, but after what feels like an eternity, you're sure the coast is finally clear. When you creep out of the stall, the restaurant is eerily still now that it's fully closed, and once you've collected yourself, you make your way out, finally ready to sit at the table you've been staring holes into all evening.

The velvet rope falls to the side as you part the way. Your fingers trail over the cold cutlery on the table—the finest in the restaurant, decked with gold trim and sitting on porcelain platters. A small smile tugs at your lips. He's always been the type to require the finer things, even in death. Though you're surprised he hasn't turned the place upside down at the slight wrinkle you catch in the tablecloth.

You sink into the chair, the soft and barely worn cushion molding beneath you, almost welcoming you to the table amidst the unsettling darkness, urging you to quickly pull out your candle and a pair of lace panties. Doubts swarm your mind, but you begin anyway, preparing to start the ritual you've never tested before and solely banking on what you've come to know and what you've experienced.

But what if he doesn't show up?

He hasn't the last few times you've visited, and this...this is the most extreme measure you've taken so far.

If this doesn't work, then nothing will, and you hold your breath as you give the match a hard look before striking it, watching the flame cast a glow in the shadows before bringing it to the wick and lighting the darkness.

The restaurant seems even more disturbing as you glance around the dark. Watching, waiting for any movement, any indication of a presence, of his presence. He's never been predictable, so good at surprises and keeping you on your toes as you worked your shifts from the sun up until it set late at night. Giving you the biggest of scares the first time you felt a brush of your ankle in the bathroom. Thank God you were already on the toilet.

Now, all you can do is wait. Wait and hope that tonight is diff—

Goosebumps rise on your skin and that PTSD kicks in again, catching a glimmer of light in the corner of your eye as a sudden chill creeps in, slithering over your skin. It's subtle at first, like a draft through an open window, but quickly intensifies, feeling the temperature drop by several degrees. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, and for a second, you swear you can see your breath fog in the dim light of the unnatural cold.

Your arms cross over your chest, instinctively rubbing warmth into your skin, and just when you go to wrap the sweater you brought around your body, it hits you—that smell you could never forget or find anywhere else. Heavy, almost suffocating. Filling your nose and seeping into every breath when you hear his voice echo out of nowhere.

"Panties for dinner?" The voice curls around you, laced with that same mischievous edge you remember from years ago.

"Shit!" Your stomach plummets into your ass when you look up. Across the room, in the dim reflection of a nearby mirror, you see him. White, ghostly hair sitting atop a tall, slim figure, his form hazy around the edges like smoke threatening to dissipate.

You can't make out all of him, but the presence is unmistakable. And standing right behind you.

You can't even breathe, frozen, staring at the mirror and his sly grin. But when your fight kicks in and you whip around, there's nothing, just empty air and your hot breath floating in it, and you nearly pee yourself when you turn back and he's sitting right across from you. Calm, composed, and smug as ever, resting in his favorite seat in the house. Reserved just for him.

He leans back, white cotton-clad arms crossing behind his head, his ghostly form flickering in and out of the dim light—almost making him completely translucent save for the reflection in his circular sunglasses. "I know times are changing but—" he tilts them down to eye the lace panties you've laid out. "Even I wouldn't think of adding such a delicacy to the menu."

You release a breath you didn't know you were holding and swallow. "Hello, Gojo."

You never thought you'd say that name again, feeling foreign, yet familiar on your tongue, and though you were just scared out of your wits, relief washes over you. Because at last you know you're not crazy. Not then, and not now.

He's real, and now eyeing you up and down as if you're the next thing on the menu.

Seeing him brings back a flood of memories—memories of late-night shifts, of him toying with you when no one else would be bothered.

Though you've never been the type to believe in anything you can't see, working here taught you differently, and you learned that ghosts are surprisingly easy to find. Or at least, it's easy for them to find you.

He laughs. "Damn, really?" raising a brow, "What's with the formalities?" And he sounds offended for a reason you almost forget why before he has hearts in his eyes.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a soft puff, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. His pale blue eyes gleam with something between amusement and enticement as he takes you in. "All grown up," he pops. "And here after all these years. I didn't think you'd have the guts to come back...and bring such...interesting offerings." His lips curl into a slow smirk.

“Well, Satoru,” your lips purse, “It’s not like I haven’t been trying," you say remembering the frustration of the past few weeks. “I figured something…unconventional might work. Finally.” 

He tsks, casually lifting the lace and dangling it on the end of his fingers before wrapping it in his hand. Eyeing you with mischief as he brings the offering to his face and drowns his nose. 

“You know…” he breathes deeply, “I’ve yet to find anyone else who smells as sweet as you.” His eyes flutter shut a moment as if savoring the scent, his grip tightening. Then, as quickly as the moment came, his expression darkens, his tone going low and sharp eyes snapping open before they narrow. “You can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to have something like that stripped away from you.”

The words hang in the air, thick and cutting. And you know exactly what he means.

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” The question that's been gnawing at you spills out, weighed with weeks of trying and failing to reach him since you first came back, wondering why he wouldn’t show. “Because I left?”

Gojo scoffs, smacking his teeth, and looks away, still holding the lace before dismissively letting them fall to the table. “Is it even worth asking?” His eyes flicker back to yours, dripping with disdain. “You sound so sure. Less of a coward now than you were back then,” he mutters, a bitter edge creeping in that knots your stomach.

“Tell me,” he leans, voice crawling with vice, “…was I too much for you that night?” And your throat tightens, memories of your last shift at Muriel’s rushing back full force. 

Most tourists who flock to this charming, haunted restaurant only know the glossy version of its history.

It’s themed, plays up its rumors, is gimmicky, and serves great food all in one curated pot.

But what most don’t know, is that back in the day, it actually used to be a house—a grand, extravagant mansion that was a symbol of wealth and power, drawing in the city’s elite. But all of that splendor needed someone just as luxurious to maintain it and its reputation for being the place to be if there ever was one. 

And that someone was Gojo.

A filthy rich owner with an exorbitantly large bank account and an even larger love for hosting extravagant parties. He didn’t throw these gatherings just for fun—no, they were about keeping the eyes of the elite on him and his sprawling mansion. His house wasn’t just a home—it was a glittering symbol of his status. 

And as famous as Gojo was for his parties, he was just as infamous for his way with women. A relentless womanizer, he cycled through lovers like the seasons, keeping them rotating out of his door like clockwork and was quick to turn down anyone tried to trap him with promises of children or love. 

Gojo very much valued his freedom, up until he took his very last breath. 

With no one to pass along his estate to, he left no heirs and no family to carry on his legacy, and everything he possessed was auctioned to the public. Being sold to someone just as wealthy and lucky enough to be able to continue the home’s reputation.

But even in death, Gojo didn’t care for sharing the spotlight, or his house.

Through the years, the infamous home was passed from hand to hand, and with each new arrival, Gojo made sure they knew he was still a guest with the same appetite for attention he’d always had. 

His tricks started small, mere nuisances at first—footsteps in empty hallways, doors that wouldn’t stay shut, flickers of lights just as someone reached for the switch. But anyone who dared to claim the house as their own quickly realized that Gojo wasn’t the type to share his space. Years passed, and the mansion’s reputation grew darker. Haunted, they said. 

No one could live there without being tormented by the mischievous, jealous ghost of its original owner, making no one want to touch it with a 10-foot pole. For quite some time, the formerly luxurious home sat on the market, a ghost of itself collecting dust and weary stares from passersby familiar and foreign. But it wasn't until someone got the brilliant idea to say fuck it and try to bank on the legends that it was finally opened to the public, done in a way that was guaranteed to attract people from around the world—by turning it into a restaurant. And consequently making Gojo’s antics truly infamous.

At first, the new owners didn’t believe the stories. It’s just old pipes and drafty halls, they said. But that excuse wore thin. Quickly. 

They would return to tables flipped overnight, chairs scattered around the space like a storm had blown through. Champagne glasses, polished and neatly stacked at closing, would go flying across the bar and shatter against the walls by morning. Whispers could be heard in patrons’ ears during dinner and ruin appetites. 

Workers began quitting. Customers stopped coming.

Eventually, enough was enough, and the owners, desperate and undoubtedly true believers now, decided to strike a deal with the restless spirit and finally appeal to his easily bruised ego. And they set up an exquisite V.I.P. table just for him, even going so far as to allow reservations to be made to have dinner with him and appeal to his sense of companionship once every blue moon. 

Once again, Gojo was the center of attention, and just like that, the chaos stopped.

For regular diners, at least. But then, you came along.

At first, it was subtle—small things that could easily be dismissed as accidents or coincidence. 

A fork slipping from your grasp, a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye.

You’d been warned about Gojo when you were hired but quickly dismissed it as a funny story to tell tourists (like you weren’t borderline new to the city yourself). 

You didn’t believe—not in ghosts, not in any of it. 

That is, until the antics became too much to ignore, and Gojo grew tired of playing games.

The whispers weren’t vague murmurs anymore—they were in your ear, low and teasing and calling your name.

The pranks weren’t harmless either—pinches of the fat on your thighs almost made you drop dishes, gushes of wind fluttered your skirt, exposing your flesh to customers, cool breaths ghosted your neck while taking orders. And on the more vulgar end of the scale, you learned that Gojo had an infatuation with your panties, ghosting his hand under your skirt to skim the fabric and trap remnants of you on his fingers to smell and taste. And when that wasn’t enough, he would resort to stealing them, almost always running off with a pair before the end of your shift so he could relish your intoxicating scent while you were away.

He wanted your attention and was relentless, loving to see you flustered and squirming. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had it.

Then came that night. 

The night everything changed.

It was a quiet evening at Muriel's.

The last of the guests had filtered out, the last of the servers and kitchen staff had gone save for a few, and only a soft clatter of dishes in the back and the low hum of the kitchen being scrubbed down kept your company at the end of your shift.

And it had become the usual for you to be the only one left at the end of the day. Ever since your promotion to shift lead, you were the one expected to close up most days. It was a small step-up—more responsibility, slightly more money—but it almost meant longer hours, on top of still being a full-time student. The bags under your eyes couldn't be darker, but someone had to make sure everything was in order before locking up. You were happy to take the extra cash and kill some debt, but nights like that one—when the restaurant was eerily still, and you were the only one walking its halls—made you question if the raise was really worth it.

You were wiping down and fixing the last of tables, mind drifting, tired, and very, very ready to go home and start your second shift on your school assignments.

You felt your muscles slowly tensing, your movements growing slow and stiff. The air was growing cold as fuck, colder than it'd ever been in the restaurant making hairs stand on your arms and your brows furrow. You wondered if the heat had finally kicked out in the old place when a familiar scent hit you. A thick, heady fragrance that'd been haunting you for weeks—opulent, like aged leather, tobacco, and something sweet like an overripe plum. You'd smell it before, but it was stronger than ever that night, filling the air like a thick perfume that almost made you choke and your heart quicken. Because you were the only one in the restaurant.

A whisper right in your ear almost sent you to glory. "Leaving so soon, beautiful?"

You jolted, a rush of heat and cold spiraling through you as you whipped around expecting to find an empty room as usual, but your rag slipped from your fingers.

Because this time, there it was.

Not just a flicker of light, not just a trick of the shadows—but standing there, casually leaning against the bar as if it'd been waiting for you. Its hair white and ghostly, catching the low light and loosely floating around its sharp, pale face. A man, unworldly and almost hypnotically angelic.

God, he was a vision of the past, looking like he'd stepped straight out of the 18th century. Dressed in a loose, long-sleeved cotton shirt that wasn't buttoned all the way, revealing his chest and looking impossibly soft as it bobbed around him with every subtle move. Untouched by the laws of physics like it had a life of its own along with his baggy, almost billowing pants that seemed more of an accessory to his form than a garment.

He looked like he was floating in water.

But it wasn't just the look of him that struck you—it was his presence.

You'd been receiving little snippets of the supposed guilty party for months, but now he was revealing his full form and moving around the room with an ease that was unnerving. Graceful in a way that made him seem more like a dream than a ghost, his feet barely touching the ground as he circled you—a predator accessing its prey.

He wore circular sunglasses, perched right on the bridge of his nose. The modern touch starkly contrasted the vintage quality of his existence and made him all the more haunting. They reflected the dim light and hid his eyes, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze piercing right through you.

He smiled—lazy, dangerous, and knowing—like he could see every one of your thoughts. "Like what you see?" And your stomach twisted. Because whether you wanted to admit it or not, you couldn't deny that you had been waiting for him.

For months, Gojo had been playing with you, pushing and teasing to the brink of borderline insanity. But never in your wildest thoughts did you expect this. Not for him to ever fully reveal himself. Or for him to be so...ethereally gorgeous in a way that made your mouth dry.

You couldn't help but to stare, captivated by his strange, almost unsettling beauty. You'd been told about his promiscuity, his natural ability to captivate women and now you could see how.

He was an enigma, an impossible class of time periods—both out of place and yet perfectly at home in this old, creaky restaurant.

And despite every instinct screaming at you to get the hell out of Dodge, you were drawn to him, just as you had been since that very first whisper in your ear that made you second-guess reality.

"Well, say something." He laid his cheek on his palm. "Or am I just that handsome?"

And there it was—that egregious arrogance you'd heard so much about dripping from every word, as if he hadn't been terrorizing you from the moment you stepped foot in the place or just given you the jumpscare of your life. Though, what threw you off the most was the way he didn't sound like you expected; his voice didn’t match the way he dressed or the era period he seemed to belong to. It was subtly modern, as if he'd been changing his speech as the years went on.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased, and you swallowed hard, struggling to find your own voice, but the sight of him, his sheer presence, made it almost impossible.

“I’m not scared,” you finally croaked out, lifting your chin, though your voice betrayed you. And the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them, his brows raising and grin widening as he sensed the challenge in your words.

"Not scared, huh?" He stepped closer until the distance between you was almost nonexistent, calling your obvious bullshit by the way you could barely handle his taunts during your day shifts. He paused.

"Boo!"

You jumped, then immediately felt like a little bitch for falling for the oldest trick in the book. You didn't find anything funny but Gojo roared and slapped his knee. "Awww, you're so cute when you're pissed," he remarked, wiping a fake tear at your scowling face. But then his sensual smile returned, reaching out to tilt your chin. "So what'll get you riled up then, brave little waitress?" And he's behind you before you could turn away, running your blood cold as his nose grazed your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair.

You swatted at him, more out of instinct than logic and quickly spun around—only to find nothing. Just empty space and the faint scent of him still hanging in the air like a ghost.

Fuck, where is he?

Your heart thundered in your ears, each breath coming quicker and quicker as your wide eyes scanned the room.

Panic surged through you, fighting to steady your nerves when you turned back and there he was, inches away from your face.

"Fu—!" You flinched and he snickered. "Still not scared?" And he took another step forward.

Your shaky breaths said yes but your head shook no, trying to stand your ground even as your feet moved backwards.

"No?" he grinned, closing the distance between you with every step. "Good. I don't want you to be." Still, his eyes glinted behind those ridiculous shades that hid too much and made it impossible to think straight. Your body moved on autopilot, flight instead of fight kicking in, until the small of your back collided with something solid.

Your breath hitched, aimlessly reaching behind to steady yourself when the soft, velvety fabric sent pins and needles through your body, slowly realizing that you had bumped into the table you just spent too much time painstakingly freshening up earlier—his table.

His grin was positively wicked now and he watched it dawn on your face, registering the fact that you had bumped into the very thing you unironically set up for him. The cool surface pressed into your lower back, cutlery clinking and shifting beneath your fingers as you pondered escape, but you were trapped.

Gojo leaned over you. "Funny," his cool breath brushed your cheek. "I've been watching you for a while now, you know," he mused, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh. His fingers barely brushed beneath your fluffy work skirt but jolts still rocked through you, and you stiffened as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I can detect heart rates," he continued, voice a low purr. "And yours? I've been listening to it for months since I first started...playing with you." He smirked. "How it slows down when you think it's all in your head. How it spikes every time something moves that isn't supposed to. How scared you look when you can't figure out what's happening."

He practically towered over you now, and he down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips as he added, "But it's never beat this fast before." And a breath caught in your throat when his hand slid higher, his fingers curling around the divet of your hip.

"You take such good care of my table, doll. No one has done it better since it's been here." Your knees went weak feeling him knead and trace patterns over your hip with his thumb. "Sooo," he smiled against your ear, "It's only fair I put all that hard work to good use right?"

You tried to twist away, you really did, but it was a fruitless attempt to put some distance between you and the ghost. His grip was ironclad and anchoring you to the table, even in his spectral form, and it reminded you that though he was just a spirit, his strength was all too real, and the cool burn seeped through you, yet contrasted the involuntary warmth pooling between your legs.

You swore under your breath as your body betrayed you with each ghostly touch, shivers cascading down your spine. Your jaw clenched as you tried to ignore the arousal gathering in your panties, but Gojo was no amateur. He had done this dance for far too long and far too many times, and he knew the signs better than anyone.

He pulled back just enough to really get a good look at you, the smirk never leaving his face as he took in the blush creeping up your face. The rapid rise and fall of your swelling chest, the way you tugged on your lower lip in a poor attempt to maintain some semblance of control.

"I'll stop if you tell me to," he murmured so sincerely, but it felt like a trick as his other thumb now traced slow, maddening circles up your inner thigh, inching ever closer to the heat radiating from your core. You started to protest, but the words died in your throat when he finally brushed the damp fabric of your panties.

Your mouths fell open, both of you caught entirely off guard at how surprisingly wet you were.

Gojo let out a breathless chuckle, eyes darkening beneath his glasses at the feel of your warm slick. "Just say the word, beautiful," a silken whisper that seemed to wrap around you along with the continuously languid strokes of your puckering clit.

"Hah," you reluctantly moaned, panic mingling with helplessness in a battle between your mind and body.

Because there was no denying the effect he was having on you.

The gradual build-up of unhinged chemistry had unknowingly begun even when he was just an easily dismissive taunt—no matter how much you wanted to resist.

And the bastard knew it.

Reveled in it even, his ghostly fingers toying with the elastic edge of your panties and teasing you with the promise of something more. You just had to say yes.

No.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the fabric of the table bunching under your fingers as you tried to reason with yourself, to not drink the stupid bitch juice, but with each stroke, each tormenting touch, your resolve crumbled more and more.

"Look at me." His tone left no illusion of choice, and your eyes fluttered open to meet the reflection of your pathetic face in his sunglasses. The distorted image mocked you before he pulled them down the bridge of his nose. "Good girl." The corner of his lip tucked under his teeth and he rewarded you with a firmer touch that made your hips involuntary buck towards him with a mewing "Ah!"

His ghostly laugh filled the room and vibrated through his hand resting between your legs. "I wonder," his brow quirked, eyes wandering over your body. "What other sounds I can draw out of you?"

You tried to respond, lips hot and ready to tell him to go to hell, but the only sound that escaped you was a strangled whimper feeling his fingers hook under your panties and pull them aside, exposing you to the cool air as you looked into his intense gaze. He didn't even have to look to know that you were absolutely dripping, and heat bloomed in your face, your thighs rushing to clamp shut but his other hand firmly held you open.

"So stubborn," he smiled, feeling so lucky he was already dead by the way your eyes shoot daggers, and he got an idea looking at your cute tight-lipped face. "Let's see how long you can keep up that fight of yours, hmm?" And he continued his dizzying but purposely feather-light strokes, determined to bring you to the precipice of shattering into pieces.

If you thought you were crazy before, you felt absolutely insane now the way you had two voices on your shoulder, an Angel and a Devil.

This is a ghost, for God's sake, the angel panicked, screaming about the sheer insanity of the situation.

That dick might hit different though, the Devil argued, voice husky and persuasive, reminding you of endlessly late nights spent studying and the dry spells that came with it. Typical of an obnoxiously busy youth battling between college and work.

It'll literally be out of this world sis, the Devil purred, and though you wanted to cringe at your conscious's bad joke, you couldn't help but acknowledge it as something that just might be true. Because despite the disbelief you were in about the reality of your situation, Gojo's very real, very rock-hard, and solid dick pressing against your knee was undeniable. And the idea of it sinking between your walls snuck into your head all on its own.

Your hand trembled, reaching out, wanting—no, needing to feel the subtly thumping temptation that promised a release you hadn't experienced in far too long. The outline wasn't enough, you needed to feel its girth, its length, and your shaky fingers ghosted right through him.

"Ah ah ah," he chided, caressing your cheek. "Not until you say yes." And you felt physically ill as you took a second to even hesitate. To consider. Absolutely mad. Insane. And disgustingly aching with a need so strong it made your head hurt until both of your bickering voices fell silent when you blurted, "Yes!"

And the world itself held its breath.

But it was all Gojo needed, his eyes flashing in triumph with a devious smirk. And in a movement too fast for your eyes to see, he hoisted you up and turned you over, a gasp escaping your lips and he pushed you into a sinful arch until your chest planted on the table.

The heat of his gaze was blazing, taking in such a lewd display that was begging to be touch, and who was he to resist? Allowing his hands to roam your body with an urgency that left you breathless, his touch cold yet exhilarating and racing your beating heart.

Nudging your legs apart, he crouched down, cooing.

"Even prettier than I imagine." Pushing a huff out of you as his thumb slid in, slowly stretching you and coating his finger in your fluids that made his already translucent finger glisten.

His lips curled into a devilish grin at the sight of you, sprawled out of the table, your face flushed with desire and breaths short and needy. He brought his thumb to his lips, tasting you and almost dying all over again, the mix of savory sweetness and tangy heat making his already painfully hard cock twitch with anticipation.

"Delicious," he purred, "But I need more," and you couldn't even process his words before his hands were on your thighs and spreading you wide, his breath cool against your heated flesh. Then his mouth was on you, tongue tracing circles around your sugary clit, lazy but heavy when your head shot up, feeling him suck it into his mouth with an expertise that made your hand shoot out and try to tangle your fingers in his hair. Helplessly whining and squirming, yet failing to pull him closer to grind down on his face to chase his tongue because he was a ghost after all.

But he was in bliss with your taste and obliged your silent wish, dipping in and out of your core and bringing you to the brink of shattering into a million pieces if it hadn't been for the dick in his pants that was so impatient, and you groaned feeling him pull away with a huff.

"Sweet girl," he murmured, lips glistening with your watery mess as he rose to his feet. "Like a sweet, delectable dish." His thumb rolled over your slit. "But I want to feel you come undone on my cock." And you jumped when you felt his thick, hard length teasing your entrance. Sending a jolt through your body at the sensation of his cool, ghostly flesh against your warm pussy before his hands dug into your hips and he slammed into you with a force so strong it knocked the breath from your lungs.

In an instant, you both froze, him buried to the hilt inside you and feeling your unprepared pussy squeeze and struggle to adjust to being so unbelievably full. Feeling every ridge, every vein of his cock throbbing inside of your tight, little walls.

He groaned, "Fuck," hissing and fingers digging into your flesh as he fought for control. "You feel so..." Losing his words, his hips began to move, thrusts slow and deliberate as he started fucking you and fucking you good after months of build-up and playing with you. Shaking the table until it creaked and groaned, the cutlery clinked and dishes fell to the ground as he drove into you again and again and again making your hands scramble to find purchase on the table and hang on.

It was too much. It was heaven on a very big, very thick, drool-inducing stick. It was so delicious that the intense ache bordered pain and made you want to get away yet run towards it at the same time. But he wasn't about to let you go anywhere.

"I don't know who you've been holding out on me for," he gruffed, eyeing screwing shut at your tight, fluttering pussy, "But tonight, you belong to me." And he punctuated his point with deep, harsh, thrusts.

"Go-Go-GoJO." You stammered over his name wanting to beg for relief, but he just wrapped a hand under your neck and pulled you back against him.

"Call me, Satoru, doll," and he kissed your cheek, still bullying your pussy until your walls caved and hungrily sucked him in.

"Sa-Satoru," you managed, almost breathless, "I'm going to..hah, I'm about to..."

You couldn't even get them out, damn near blacking out when you came and came hard, a powerful, unexpectantly early orgasm ripping through your convulsing body. Wave after wave after of white-hot pleasure washed over you until your body went limp against him and your legs crumbled as he let you collapse against the table.

But he wasn't finished yet and he bit his lips, still deeply pushing through your sore and fluttering walls, his mind a heady mix of egotistical pride and unyielding desire as he felt you shudder and unravel beneath him. He marveled at the sight of you utterly defeated yet still clinging to the table, the way your sweet voice called out his name in ecstasy, and every shaky breath and tremble as he pushed you into overstimulation until his own breath grew uneven.

His release was coming and coming fast, the telltale sign tightening in his core as he watched your ass ricochet off his snapping hips, teetering on the edge of release.

His fingers dug into your nearly limp body and held you in place, each thrust becoming more desperate and erratic because even though his dick was a punisher and you were practically lifeless, your pussy was still whooping his ass. Coaxing him to dig deeper and deeper and look Nirvana right in the face until with a hoarse groan, he finally shattered and moaned your name, knocking your hips into the table and stilling right against your cervix until he spilled into you with a fierce, unrestrained release that left him trembling and breathless and you heady and wondering if you could get pregnant by a ghost.

Huffing, he folded over you, feeling like life had been pulled out of him once again, needing to be as close to you as possible as he grasped the fat of your ass between his fingers. "Fuck, love," he said, damn-near delirious, and the words slipped out before he knew what he was saying. "I would've made you a wife in my first life." But you didn't even have enough consciousness to process the never-before-said words that many before you would've given their very soul to hear.

As the world around you faded to black, the only thing you were aware of was the feeling of Gojo's body pressed against yours and him murmuring your name in your ear like a promise, and to this day you still don't know what he meant by putting your hard work to good use because after allowing him to have his way, his table was left in absolute shambles.

Those few minutes of pure, carnal delirium had burned into you, leaving you shook, figuratively and literally for weeks, even after the semester ended and you returned home for the summer.

And while most would think that would have been the best night in your entire existence and left you begging for more, it actually left you rattled to your core and questioning your sanity. Seeing him, feeling him, almost every night after in your dreams.

Convinced that the pressure of academics, a new city, and your overworked imagination had become too much, you made a choice—one that resulted in you transferring schools and never returning to New Orleans. You left behind your job and all the friends you made and told yourself that the encounter with Gojo had to be nothing more than a full mental breakdown. And yet...

The feeling of him lingered with you for years. So real, so vivid like he was somehow watching, somehow waiting for you to—

"Earth to beautiful." His voice sliced through your trip down memory lane, dragging you back to the present. You blink, realizing with a start that he was no longer sitting across from you.

Following his voice, your gaze darted to the left, and there he was again, lounging on one of the plush chairs in the corner of the restaurant.

You shift in your seat, hesitating as the memories collide with the present. "No," you start, remembering his question. "It wasn't that..."

Gojo's playful smile dims just a little but enough to notice. "Then enlighten me, doll, because last I remember, you just up and left without so much as a goodbye."

You swallow, the knot of guilt building in your stomach. "It wasn't because of you—"

His laugh cut through your words, sharp and bitter, echoing off the walls when he vanishes only to reappear behind you. "Sure didn't feel that way to me, sweetheart."

You whip around to face him, but he's already gone, reappearing across the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. "You thought I wouldn't notice?" His arms cross. "Didn't even come back for a single shift, just left me hanging like I had done something wrong...no one's ever done that before." And the way he's trying to suppress the sadness in his voice lets you know that he's obviously still salty about it.

For once, the entertainer had his own entertainment—genuine, proper, and unlike anything he ever experienced in the life he knew before and even after death. And it had been stripped away from him just like that.

"I didn't—" And he's gone again, this time materializing at the bar, resting his elbows on it like this whole conversation is nothing but a joke because truthfully, "I've missed playing with you," he confesses.

Heat rises in your cheeks, a mixture of flustered embarrassment and lingering guilt, and you don't know how to feel anymore. "I didn't leave because of you," you insist, but even to you, it sounds weak.

"Then what was it?" Gojo taunts, appearing at a table closer to you, leaning forward in that all-too-familiar lazy, arrogant pose. "Got spooked? Couldn't handle me?" His defensiveness makes it clear he' isn't really listening. "Or maybe..." his voice drops low, "You liked it too much." And your pulse instantly spikes, his teasing combined with what may be a sliver of truth, making your skin prickle.

He watches you with a wolfish grin, knowing exactly what he's doing, how he's affecting you. And when the obvious look of frustration appears on your face before you start to chew him out, he's gone. And you've officially had it.

"Dammit, Gojo!" you snap, pushing up from his table. "Would you stop already?" Your eyes dart around for the source of your anger, trying to follow his shifting presence as he flickers in and out of view. "I came back to talk, not to play your stupid ass games again!" you shout, hoping that'll trigger him, but the room falls silent, the only sound being your own soft breath. You call for him but when he doesn't answer, for a moment, you feel regret, thinking maybe he's finally let his emotions get the best of him and he's disappeared forever.

"Tell me..." and in a sudden flicker, he's in front of you, his touch cold and electric as he softly brushes your cheek. "After all these years..." His fingers draw a slow line from your neck to your tummy. "Can you still feel me...down there?"

And your jaw slacks open,

You let out a short exhale, instinctively taking a step back, but Gojo is already pressing forward, making you stumble back until the cool wood of the bag digs into your lower back like déjà vu. You try to move but his hand is already on your waist, fingers possessively curling around you, and with a casual, effortless push, he hoists you onto the bar and parts your legs with ease before slotting himself between them as if he's always belonged there. And fuck it stirs something deep inside you.

You should be scrambling to get down, but you hate how easily your body reacts to him instead, how the pull between you feels just as strong as it did back then, as if the years apart meant nothing. But Gojo isn't afraid to throw away his ego to show you he misses you, even after all this time. And damn it, you feel absolutely insane realizing that part of you misses him too, even if it was just a few months of build-up and one explosive night.

But you're older now. You're not the same naïve girl he could easily swoon with a smirk and a whisper of words.

No, you were here for a reason and didn't hesitate to swallow down your confusing desire to stick to the mission. Even if it meant breaking his heart.

“Stop,” you say more to yourself than him, but the firmness in your voice surprises both of you. Pulling away from his lingering hands, you shake your head. “I’m not here for that.”

His hands freeze in place, and he leans back just enough to meet your eyes. “No?” He mocks surprise. “Then what are you here for, sweetheart? Because I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t it.”

You lift your chin, forcing out the words before you lose your nerve. “I need your help, Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he corrects you, but his smile slightly falters when he sees you’re serious.

“Help?” He tilts his head. “And here I thought you just missed me.” His smile widens, but there’s something dangerous in it now. Something that makes you remember just how unpredictable Gojo can be. And just you think he’s got the wrong idea and is going in for a kiss, he leans back and gives you space. He sighs, his arms crossing over his chest and gaze flickering over your face. “What could I possibly help you with?” And his willingness to listen is what surprises you the most, but you still can’t believe what you’re about to say, and you draw a steady breath to help get the words out.

“I need to find them.”

His brow quirks. “Them?”

“...the vampires.” And the second the word leaves your mouth, his grin falters.

For the first time since he appeared, the amusement completely drops from his face and suddenly, he's very careful with his words. “I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”

“I—” You hesitate, wanting to say that you don’t know what you believe in anymore. Never in your entire life did you expect to have a full-fledged conversation with a ghost, let alone be fucked into oblivion by one, but here you were, living reality as it was and anything was possible at this point, but instead, you just say what’s true. “Things have changed.”

“I see,” his eyes narrow as if weighing your words and he shrugs, walking off a bit. “Quite the 180,” he muses, “But who knows, maybe they’re real, maybe they’re not. Maybe I know,” and he turns back, leaning in. “Maybe I don’t,” he whispers.

His words taunt you, but it’s the look in his eyes that hold you captive, as if he’s trying to pull the truth right out of your skull. “Why? Why are you so eager to find them?” And you’re taken aback by his suddenly jealous tone. 

“It’s my friend…” you start, and you feel pathetic for wanting to cry. “She’s missing.”

Gojo’s face slightly softens, but he doesn’t speak. You just know that he’s listening, truly listening now.

“She started acting all…weird before she disappeared,” you continue, your throat tightening as the memories of you meeting in college race through your mind. You stayed friends after you left, but she never did. “She mentioned vampires once, but I just thought she was messing around. NOLA, y’know?” You shrug. “I blew it off,” you confess, “But now…she’s gone and I—now I don’t know what else to think.” And all of the despair you’ve been suppressing finds its way to your chest.  

But all Gojo cared about was getting an answer that satisfied him, and in an instant, he’s behind the bar, his fingers ghosting under your chin and tilting your head back until you’re forced to look at him. 

“So this is about your friend then? Not the vampires?”

Your face twists. “Yeah, of course, what else?”

He looks off to the side, muttering something under his breath. Then his eyes narrow, glinting with something unreadable as they snap back to yours. “And why do you think I’m just going to hand you that kind of information? That I would even have it?” And the temperature around you drops so sharply you can see your breath hanging in the air. 

The weight of what you're asking for sinks in when you see just how serious he is, even more so than the power Gojo holds, even if it is just secrets. And yet, here you are, asking him to hand it over like it was nothing. Your throat tightens, lips cold as you swallow hard, but you want him to know you're serious too. “Because I know you can help me, Satoru,” you say with deliberate emphasis. “I remember what you said once…about knowing things.”

If there was anyone in New Orleans who could provide the answers you needed, it was Gojo. He'd been around for centuries, passing through time and history and collecting secrets like currency with effortless charisma and casual conversation. He could easily draw out the most guarded truths from anyone he deemed important or anyone who fell for his seductive charm, always knowing which strings to pull. In this city where the supernatural runs deep, Gojo is a bank of information and the gatekeeper of everything hidden beneath the surface. And just from what you'd told him, he knew this situation was dire.

The silence that follows stretches too long for comfort, weighty as he just watches you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, panic flutters in your stomach.

Have you pushed him too far? Was this plan to reconnect with him for answers nothing more than a foolish misjudgment? What if Gojo chooses revenge and leaves you with nothing—all of this…for nothing?

But then, ever so slowly, that unmistakable smirk returns as he leans close enough to almost brush your cool lips. “Vampires, huh?” His mouth curls into a full, dangerous smile now. “You must be desperate, coming to me for that.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver, and you nod though you hate that it's true. “I am.” And Gojo chuckles, the sound both chilling and thrilling as he traces your jawline. “Then I suppose we’d better make this…interesting.” But you aren’t even surprised because if there was one thing you didn’t need to be told, it’s that Gojo never makes anything easy. Never has. But at least he’s willing to strike up a deal.

Gojo only agrees to tell you what you need to know on one condition: “I want to taste you,” he says simply, like it’s nothing. “That’s it.” And you can’t even fully process the words as his arm slips around your waist, gently pulling your back against his chest, his hand snaking down to find home between your legs. “I didn’t get to properly the first time,” he muses, his breath cool against your neck. Sharing the sentiment as if he knows you may never come back. 

Your pulse quickens, the gravity of what he’s asking settling in. Memories of that night—the sheer intensity of it—clouding your judgment and flooding your mind like the heat building between your legs. The request hangs between you like a blade. Giving you a choice, but you know there’s no real option here. If you refuse, he might not give you what you need. But if you agree…

“That’s it?” you whisper. He nods. And after a moment’s ponder as his fingers tease against your skin and spur your decision, history repeats itself when you once again say yes.

In an instant, he’s on his knees in front of you, eliciting a gasp from you when he swiftly pulls you to the edge of the bar. He blissfully hums, his hands gliding up and down your thighs like silk before parting them like the Red Sea. He ogles you, the blue of his eyes flaring at the sight of your unclothed and oh-so-pretty, glistening cunt confirming what he already knew, that the lace panties you used to summon him had come freshly off your body. 

His eyes darken with desire, never leaving yours as he leans in. "This. This is all I want," he murmurs, and his lips brush the inside of your thigh with a featherlight touch.

“Mmph.” Your fingers curl into fists as you fight the urge to grab his hair and guide him to where you’ve been throbbing the most. Because despite your words earlier, the way your body responds to his touch, every tremble, every subtle sigh, doesn't lie. 

You wanted this as badly as he did. 

But Gojo is in control; his movements deliberate, slow, and savoring every inch of your exposed skin.

And he’s determined to show you exactly what you’ve been missing. 

His cool breath fans against your skin, his lips soft, teasing, and leaving a trail of icy fire as they move closer and closer to your center, to the source of your intoxicating scent that hooked him like an addict from the moment you first entered the restaurant six years ago. 

Your fingers clench the bar's edge, the cool wood a poor substitute for the touch you crave.

God, you wish he’d stop toying with you. Even when you give in and give him exactly what he wants, he still finds a way to make everything a game.

And just when you’re ready to huff and puff, you draw a sharp breath, the first flick of his tongue against your sensitive flesh almost making you fall to pieces. Your back arches as if struck by lightning, unable to help the moan that echoes in the deserted restaurant.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he delves deeper, circling his tongue around your puffy clit and puckering hole. And he’s true to his word, taking his time to explore and properly savor you with long, languid strokes that have you gripping the bar until your knuckles turn white. 

Like a man possessed, his hands claim your thighs, devouring you with a maddening intensity and leaving you breathless. A sinful blend of pleasure and arousal as he navigates your most sensitive spots as if he’s done so a hundred times. Cooing into your folds, slurping your juices like a refreshment, making you completely surrender and his name slip from your lips in a desperate, needy whisper. 

He smiles against your bud he sucks like a popsicle, your brows furrowing and body arching as he expertly brings you to the brink of desperate release. “Patience, sweetheart.” Gojo looks up at you, eyes gleaming with mischief as his tongue swipes at the taste of you on his lips. “Good things come to those who wait.”

But waiting is the last thing on your mind as you stare at him, your body aching for more before his lips hover just above your throbbing core. You’re holding your breath without realizing it, every nerve in your body attuned to his every move before he’s on you again, his fingers digging into your flesh and the slight sting only heightens the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck baby,” he laps, a digit slipping into your tight walls, “I’ve missed this.” Adding a second that hooks right onto your G-spot and shoots stars into your eyes—making it worse by slurping your clit into his mouth in a nasty combination while pushing in and out.

The pressure inside you mounts and your eyes roll uncontrollably as you teeter on the edge. Your breaths come in sharp, ragged gasps as your body winds up so tightly it feels like you might shatter as you chase the sensation, hips bucking into Gojo’s face.

His hands clamp down on your thighs. “Stay still,” he commands, his low growl vibrating through you. But his words only fan the flames of your desperation, whimpers escaping you before he’s back at it, his tongue dancing over your clit with fiery precision. 

You’re about to beg, to plead for release, hands scrambling to grasp him when you know you can’t when he slightly pulls back. 

His gaze locks onto yours. “Now,” he says, “Now you can touch me.” And for a moment, you’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly. 

But then you feel it—the change like a switch has been flipped—a newfound solidity where there has been none before that your body instinctively responds to. 

You reach out, tentative at first, and find yourself shocked when your fingers graze the top of his head. His hair is unexpectedly soft; threading your fingers through the silky strands and gripping them lightly as your legs wrap around his shoulders to pull him closer to chase ecstasy. 

Years have gone by, lovers have come and go, but nobody, nobody has been able to slurp, suck, or devour you anywhere near as close as Gojo. He eats you with a passion, with a determination to make you fall apart and come undone like the pleasure is more his than yours. If you could say there was ever a true eater who ever walked this earth, the first person you think of is him. And if you were around in the 1800s, you probably would have tried to trap him and ride his face into the sunset too. 

You pull him flush into your cunt and grind your clit against his tongue without remorse. And it’s that low, guttural hum, his nose nuzzling deep against your folds like a madman and fingers harshly curling right against that perfect, gummy spot in you that finally sends you toppling right over. With a final, drawn-out moan, you shatter beneath his touch and the world explodes into a kaleidoscope of color and light. 

Your legs tighten around him, holding him in place as you ride out the storm of pleasure, grasping his platinum locks with both hands and drenching his face with your sweet release as you cum harder than you have in 6 years.  

Your mouth falls open in shock, embarrassment flushing your body from both squirting for the first time and expecting Gojo to release you in disgust, but his only response is a low hum of approval, and his hands slide up your body to pin your writhing hips down and drink as he pleases. Not missing a single drop. 

Your body pulses with aftershocks on his tongue, each wave weaker than the last but he doesn’t stop. And when your eyes cross from the overstimulation, you beg and blubber until you can’t anymore and finally collapse on the bar, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat as you come down from the high.

Full and satisfied, Gojo slowly pulls away, a smug slip playing on his lips as he licks them. Gazing up at you, his eyes—bluer than ever—roam over your flushed form. “Delicious as ever,” and his praise is almost as sweet as the sight of you. “Now,” he says, rising to his feet, “About those vampires…”

You take a second. “Right…,” and huff, “the vampires.” You’re so spent you almost forgot what you came here for, your core feeling tight and sore as you attempt to sit up. Little groans slip out before Gojo catches you off-guard, smashing his lips against yours in the first kiss you two have ever had—letting you taste yourself on his cool tongue and making your head swim. You could lose yourself it in, seeming to go on forever as his possessive hands roam all over your body.

You moan into his mouth. “Go-Satoru.” Trying to fight the heady feeling, but you should’ve known better. An indulgent man like Gojo would never stop at just one taste.  

He can feel you slowly cracking, and when he finally breaks the kiss, your lips are left swollen and tingling before he steals your breath again when he begins rutting against you. 

“I want to fuck you down on my cock so bad.” His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breaths coming in short, ragged pants—sick off of the scent of your hair. “Would that be so bad?” 

“Satoru,” you breathe out, a plea, a warning? You’re not sure which. “We had a deal, Satoru,” you remind him, struggling to hold onto any semblance of control. The sensation of his length rubbing against your sensitive and still-soaking core is almost too much and a solid reminder how full you were that night, and how full you could be again.

For a moment, it feels like he won't stop—and maybe you don’t want him to. But your resolve, silent yet firm, cuts through Gojo’s haze of desire, even if your body isn’t strong enough to resist and push him away yourself. And with a soft, almost reluctant sigh, Gojo huffs, and swears to himself as he's the one to pull away.

You swipe your bottom lip, for a second missing his on yours, and it takes a moment for you to clear your head, your hands unsteady as they fumble to straighten your clothes and fix yourself up as you slide off the bar. It's only after several deep breaths that your pulse begins to steady, and you can meet his eyes and that same infuriating smirk as he crosses his arms.

“Tsh, you’re no fun,” he teases, but there’s a note of respect in his voice. 

Ignoring his comment, you square your shoulders. “I need to know how to find them, Gojo.”

His hand flies to his chest. “Ouch.” You roll your eyes. “Alright, alright,” he relents, running a hand through his hair. “A deal’s a deal.” He casually leans back against the bar, his tone turning back to business. “You want to find the vampires? The best way is to start with the hunters.”

You frown in confusion. “Hunters? …Vampire hunters?”

He nods, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You find the hunters, you find the vampires.” His voice is calm, but the words hit you like a train.

Oh, this is real. 

Very, very real. 

And your blood runs cold at the weight of your situation, of what you’re getting into.

Your friend wasn’t just caught up in some strange myth or superstition.

You’re not just playing detective anymore.

It was one thing to try to be brave and find out what happened, but it was another to step into the world of those who hunted them, those who lived every moment of their existence on the edge of life and death—purposely seeking out something so dangerous that they have to be exterminated.

“What? You scared now?” His head tilts, noticing your hesitation. “It’s simple,” he laughs, “You get in with them, you’re as good as gold.” And though his words offer the solution you’ve been searching for, they also bring a chilling new reality. And you have to decide if you’re really ready cross a line you can never uncross.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “And how do I find them?”

Gojo grins. “You don’t find them, sweetheart.” He pushes off the bar. “They find you.” He takes a few slow steps towards you. “Especially someone like you. They’ll practically smell the desperation.”

Your eyes narrow at his comment. Desperation? You’ve been called worse.

Nevertheless, your heart hammers in your chest, each beat trying to signal your impending doom. 

“So, what? I just wait around for them to find me?” Frustration creeps into your tone.

Gojo waves his hand. “No, no, no,” he laughs. “You need to be smarter than that.” And he becomes more serious. “Make yourself known in the right circles. Go to the places they frequent. Show them you’re not someone they can just ignore. Play the part.” And you’re quick to pull out your phone and jot down the few places he rattles off.

As you type, a heaviness creeps in—a strange air shifting between you and Gojo. He watches you carefully, noticing how tired you look, the subtle sag of your shoulders, how your sigh carries the weight of exhaustion. This whole ordeal has felt like one long rollercoaster, but this is just the beginning of your even more difficult journey. And even though he knows what you’re in for, he can’t help but admire your determination.

"You know...I meant what I said before."

You don't look up, finishing up your notes. "About what?" 

"About making you…" he hesitates, but doesn't finish.

But something feels off, and when you glance up from your phone, you catch Gojo’s eyes.

There’s no more teasing. No more smirking. He’s watching you with something else, something that feels heavy yet unreadable. And it clicks weird when a vibe passes through the both of you, simultaneously realizing that the time to part ways has once again come. 

And you’re just as lost now as you were then about how to say goodbye. 

There’s a strange, bittersweet feeling in the pit of your stomach as you watch him casually stroll back to the table where this all started.

“Don’t.” He plops down, sensing what you’re about to say. “I’ve never been good at those.” And though it flashes through your mind that he’s been bitter for six years because you never did the first time, you respect his wish and don’t say it this time either, only pursing your lips and offering a slight nod.

As you turn to leave, Gojo calls after you, softer now, almost…concerned. 

“Be careful.” 

And it’s enough to make you stop and glance back at him, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his tone. He pushes his glasses up with a small smile, a little sparking reflecting off the lenses.

“But I don’t have to tell you that.”

And just like that, the moment hangs between you—unspoken thoughts and unfinished sentences floating heavy in the space.

You softly laugh, glancing down at your hands to fiddle with your fingers, trying to swallow the thanks welling up in your throat. The last thing you want is to make this moment any more awkward than it already is—as if this entire night hasn’t been batshit crazy. 

Gojo may have made your life a living hell during one of the most pivotal times of your youth, but he’s also one of the most unforgettable things that’s ever happened to you. And it’s in this moment that you finally decide that maybe…that wasn’t so bad. 

…Fuck it. 

You decide to say something anyway. 

But when you turn back to look at him, he’s gone. His scent, his aura, vanished, like he was never there at all. Only leaving the restaurant which sits still and lifeless. Chilling…because it’s never felt so…warm.

“...Thank you,” you whisper to the empty space he left behind, the words feeling almost weightless as you slowly exit the space for what may actually be the last time. It feels strangely freeing, the weight of the night finally easing as you take one last look before the doors close behind you with a quiet click.

Stepping outside into the warm New Orleans air feels so different now like you’ve left something behind in that old restaurant. 

Maybe it’s Satoru.

Maybe it’s a part of yourself that knows things will never quite be the same after this.

It feels like you’ve just spent eternity trapped behind those vintage green doors, and now the world outside looks both familiar and frightening, but the night air hits you like a fresh start.

You're really going to do this. You're going to find the hunters, and through them, the vampires. And then... well, you’ll deal with that when the time comes.

After all, you've already faced a devil, and you're still standing. 

What's a few vampires compared to that?

angel's note: bwahahaha, why do i even bother trying to condense things? ghost gojo was not supposed to have his own part, let alone (blank)K WORDS, he enjoyed reader waaaaay more than intended but obviously, i am not in control of my own stories. but yoooo, first and foremost, the BIGGEST of fucking s/o to @blkkizzat for helping me bring this story to fruition. i told her that i wanted to do a sugucho vampire fic and she said "bitch, where's ghost gojo??" so you have her to thank for this absolutely delectable first part

no worries tho, it's nothing but vampires and blood-sucking 🩸 from here on out, so drop ya name below if you want to be added to the tag list|sidenote: this post lining up with the full moon was not on purpose 😶 graphic credits: fangs banner (anitalenia)|glitter blood divider (violentbudd)|halloween MDNI divider (meeeee :3)|animated red divider (cafekitsune)

art credits: Sugu: 1 (hidouuc) 2 (blobfishswims) 3 (rice5x)|Cho: 1 (yappdoll) 2 (n/a) 3 (koshinomli) 4 (zeilorene)| Toru: 1 (_3aem) 2 (jjk_myaa) 3 (nala_bert) 4 (yurriima)

[lonewolflupe]

trick-or-treat

i love them all

Warning: SFW, but slightly suggestive towards ending

The door opens with some effort before you see the face of a clone appearing. His hair is tied into a knot on top of his head and he has a tear tattooed under his right eye. He smiles sympathetically at you as he hands you some candy; he seems like a compassionate soul. “If you come across my brothers Jesse and Kix, will you ask them to get back?” he asks you kindly, and with a smile, you tell him you will. At the same time, a second clone appears at his side - looking more serious and less empathetic than his brother. “Ask them to hurry, Rex is getting restless,” he adds to the question, making it sound more like an order. His eyes lie dark yet determined below a big V-shaped tattoo. You swallow, and all you can do is nod in return. He rolls his eyes when a voice from inside the house cries out: “And I want to compare my candy haul with theirs!” The brother with the V-tattoo turns around and walks back inside whilst sighing a ‘sure you do, Hardcase’. The kind one shoots you an apologetic smile before he tells you to enjoy the remainder of your night, and to take care. Yeah, better stay out of trouble.

(Trick or) treat before the mayhem starts below the cut:

I had such a chaotic week so I just finished this minutes ago, and it turned out quite a bit longer than I had anticipated. I hope you don't mind tho! Happy Halloween <3

Nightmare On Clanker Street (One-Shot)

For @yoursrosie

Summary: Your evening of trick-or-treating does not go according to plan after you visit a fortune teller Rating: Teen and up (SFW but check tags) Tags: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, weird mix between Star Wars and Modern AU, slightly suggestive towards ending Words: 3.389 Characters: Reader (fem!reader but can be read as gen!reader), Jesse, Kix Read this one-shot here on AO3

The air was filled with a pleasant atmosphere. The temperature was mild for this time of the year, and a gentle breeze made the autumn leaves rustle in a calming rhythm. Gardens were decorated and porches were filled with pumpkins. Small groups roamed the streets, walking from door to door for trick-or-treating, their colourful costumes illuminated by the dimmed lighting of the lampposts at the sides of the road.

“Come on, it will be fun!” you laughed whilst waving to your friends to join you. You had noticed a little fortune teller booth at the far end of the street, and you were just a little too curious to learn about your future. Your friends were reluctant; they didn’t believe in that kind of nonsense, and would rather spend their credits on food. “You go ahead, we’ll go get some candy apples,” one of them smiled at you, before they skipped down towards the town’s square to find the hovertrucks selling food.

“Buzzkills,” you said under your breath as you watched them disappear within the crowd up ahead. With a sigh, you turned around to gaze upon the booth’s sign. It read ‘Fumetta Fortuna’ in elegant Aurebesh lettering. Well, this was it; the absence of your friends wasn't going to spoil your night. You pulled some credits from your purse and made for the entrance.

The booth hadn't looked very spacious, but when you made it inside, it felt even more cramped than you had initially thought it would be. You weren't even sure if it was made to fit humanoid species. It was rather dark, but you managed to sit down on an uncomfortable stool near the entrance. In front of you stood a small, round table, its weathered condition telling you it was old and had been through a lot.

A sudden movement of the curtain behind it startled you, grabbing your attention immediately. “Gooddé da lodia!” came a hoarse yet feminine greeting in Huttese. You returned a greeting in Basic, and when your eyes finally started to adapt to the darkness, you noticed Fumetta Fortuna was a female Toydarian. She was looking at you with one good and one glassy eye. A colourful headscarf adorned with flashy rings was hanging from her head, leaving enough space for the wings attached to her back.

“What can I do for you, love?” she asked you with her raw voice. You started fidgeting with the rim of your costume, your eyes darting about as you didn’t know where to focus them. You felt uncomfortable looking her in the eyes - or eye, really. “I, -er,” you started stammering, “would like to learn about my future. Or at least, what I can expect tonight.”

Fumetta slightly leaned forward to shoot you an unsettling glance in silence, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Maybe your friends had been right about this all along. “A glimpse in the near future, eh?” she finally remarked, before a deep chuckle came rolling from her throat. She turned to grab something from behind her and placed it on the table.

It was a polished sphere of lommite ore, and it looked magnificent. Your gaze was lost in it immediately, as you beheld it with a gasp. It was almost as if you could see the whole galaxy in it - even the Unknown Regions. You started to reach for the sphere, but Fumetta caught your hand before you could touch it. With a smooth movement, she placed it on the table with your palm up. “Now now, dear, don’t be hasty,” she cooed with her raspy voice, granting you a smile that raised her trunk-like snout. “Let me see..,” she continued, before losing herself in the lines of your hand, tracing them with a clawed finger.

She cryptically continued her examination with an occasional ‘oooh’, ‘yes yes’, and ‘I see’ before she finally released your hand. You withdrew it immediately, rubbing the places where you could still feel her clawed touch. Fumetta leaned forward again, this time focussing on the lommite sphere on the table. She made some smooth, waving movements with her three-fingered hands around it, before you noticed how her gaze became clouded.

And finally, with that foggy haze covering both her eyes, she looked straight at you, as if she was looking deep into your soul. With a deep, chilling voice, she addressed you: “The uprising of the mindless will pose a threat, but the cog keeps turning and you will be saved by lightning.”

You swallowed, leaning backwards as much as the stool below you allowed it, before Fumetta shook her head and the mist in her good eye disappeared. She smiled again, and held her hand up towards you expectantly. It took you a while longer to return to reality, but when you did, you handed her a generous amount of your credits. She was positively surprised, and when you thanked her and made your way outside, she granted you free advice for your charity: “Don’t forget to be as generous later tonight!”

---

Fumetta’s words echoed through your mind as you wandered the streets, but you had no idea what to make of them. Uprising of the mindless, turning cog, saved by lightning. What was that supposed to mean? Who were these ‘mindless’ supposed to be, how would you notice a turning cog, and since when did lightning save anything? It just didn’t make any sense. You probably should have spent those credits on candied apples, like your friends had done.

You grimaced out of confusion before you suddenly noticed how the streets were abandoned. There were no more groups trick-or-treating. The only movement you observed were rustling leaves, blown about by the gentle breeze. But there was something ominous about the scene; like it was the calmth before a storm.

A child’s scream made your eyes open wide and the hairs on your neck stand on end. You didn’t hesitate for a moment and started running towards the source of the scream. When you reached it, you found a boy frozen to the ground, his gaze focused on something you couldn’t see. “What is it, kid?” you asked him as soon as you skidded to a halt at his side.

The fear in his eyes wasn’t lost on you when he turned towards you and your gazes met. “D-d-droids,” he stammered, before he slowly started pointing a shaky finger towards the street up ahead. You stared down the road into the darkness, a flickering lamppost the only source of illumination. There was nothing to be seen there..

..or was there?

A rusty R2-unit came rolling into the flickering circle of light on the street, where it halted for a moment. He sure looked like he could use some maintenance, but there didn’t seem to be anything else out of the ordinary. The droid seemed at ease. What was it going to do anyway?

The lamppost’s lighting flickered off for a bit longer this time, and when it returned, you gasped when you noticed the R2-unit was suddenly wielding all its modifications at once. From this distance, you could recognise at least an arc welder, a circular saw, and a grasping claw. The thing stood whirring and shaking on its wheeled legs, before it came jolting towards you with a shocking speed.

The boy at your side started screaming again, and without another thought, you picked him up and started running into a different direction. Panting, you shot looks towards the houses around you, to see if you could find a safe spot to hide from the mechanical terror. You didn’t dare knock on doors, because you knew you wouldn’t be fast enough. The R2-unit was already gaining in on you.

You nearly stumbled whilst skidding to a halt when you noticed a COO-series cook droid turning the corner in front of you. He walked calmly, his arms at his sides; until he noticed you. He abruptly turned his head in your direction, the two sensor lights on his head instantly shining brighter, blinding you for a brief moment. When you regained yourself, you noticed how he had raised his six arms, at each end a kitchen knife, one even bigger and sharper than the previous one. He started spinning them around with nauseating speed, and your stomach turned.

The boy was still hanging from your shoulder, and when he turned his head to see what made you stop running from the R2-unit, he let out another scream, making your ear buzz. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be fine,” you tried soothing him, but you realised you spoke those words to yourself more than to him. He flung his arms around your neck and started whimpering, whilst you tried to find a way out of this metal mess.

Suddenly you noticed you were close to the town’s doctor. He was such a figurehead of the community; you felt like the two of you would be safe there. You regained yourself and continued your escape, the boy clasped tightly in your arms. The R2-unit behind you hadn’t calculated your sudden change of course, and slammed right into the COO-cook. The delay was more than welcome, but you knew the threat was far from over.

The uprising of the mindless will pose a threat..

The fortune teller’s words echoed through your mind, and suddenly you realised what the first part meant. But what came next? The lightning? No, there was something else first.. You reached the door to the doctor’s home before you could remember. You raised your fist to start knocking with all your power, but before you could land the first hit, the door flung open.

You were welcomed by a 2-1B-series medical droid. You tightened your grasp around the boy as you took a step back, watching how the med droid snapped his hydraulic claw and pointed his hypodermic injector towards you. “Next patient,” he said in his mechanically modulated voice. “Kriff,” you whispered, before taking a step backwards.

Another step backwards before you turned around, only to bump right into the COO-cook. You fell to the ground with a yelp, before watching how the droids closed in on you. You turned your body protectively over the boy, but you knew you couldn’t save him from the mindless threat. You couldn’t save either of you.

This was it..

You heard an electrical zap followed by a metallic echo, and when you looked up to the COO-cook, you noticed a big hole between his two sensor lights, the laser bolt that just hit it melting away its circuits. The lights flickered for a moment, before they finally failed and the droid collapsed. You shot upright, not fully comprehending what was happening, when you realised the med droid must be right behind you.

Quickly, you looked around, and noticed an entrenching tool used as a decoration in the doctor’s garden. You rolled towards it, jumped to your feet whilst grabbing the tool, and in one smooth motion, rammed it against the med droid’s neck. You couldn’t muster enough strength to smash his head right off, but you did damage the tube that connected his chest with his vocabulator. It came loose with a hissing sound, and perplexed, the droid started talking binary in threatening beeps and hums.

It seemed like you had maddened it more than you had damaged it. With renewed determination and incomprehensible speech, the med droid came staggering towards you. You readied yourself to deal another blow, but in the corner of your eye you noticed a man starting to circle you. When he had a clear visual, he emptied his blaster on the droid, and it didn’t take long before it hit the ground with a thud.

Panting, you ran forward to huddle the boy back into your arms, before you looked up to the man that had just saved you. “Thanks,” you shot at him, almost out of breath. He granted you a sharp nod in return, and when he did, you noticed the Republic cog tattooed on his handsome face - which you instantly recognised as a clone’s. But wait, the cog.. It was at that moment you noticed how he kept turning and circling to make sure the premises were clear. To keep you and the boy safe.

..but the cog keeps turning..

Well, that was an odd way to describe it, but Fumetta hadn’t been wrong there. You were wondering how - and where - the lightning would come in to save you. You swallowed when you lingered on the thought; you really didn’t want to end up in more situations where you needed saving, after your recent dire position. In a sudden state of panic, still trying to comfort the boy in your arms, you turned towards the clone.

“What.. What is happening?” you managed, your voice on the verge of breaking. The clone tore his gaze from his surroundings to shoot you a soft, comforting look before he elaborated. “Seems like all the household droids are going rogue. Must be something in the air,” he said as he looked around suspiciously, looking for something invisible. He didn’t find what he was looking for, so he returned his gaze to you. “Name’s Jesse, by the way,” he smiled at you, before offering his hand to help you back to your feet.

You took it willingly, returning the smile as he helped you up. You ended up quite close to his chest, and your cheeks shaded a different colour. “Thanks again,” you said softly, before clearing your throat and taking a little step back - but only a little. You felt safe with him, and you were ever grateful for his timing and skills.

All of a sudden, you remembered the first droid that had started chasing you. “The R2-unit!” you cried out, as your eyes widened in fear before you checked the perimeter. You shot into a cramped focus again, but your demeanour eased instantly when you found what you were looking for; the droid laid smoking and smouldering on its side, further down the street it had come from. It wasn’t going anywhere anymore. “Relax, my brother took care of it,” Jesse smiled at you, whilst gently placing his hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“Speaking of my brother,” Jesse continued, turning around when a clone with a standard military haircut came jogging towards you, “this is Kix.” The brother named Kix nodded at you in greeting. “Ma’am. Are any of you hurt?” he asked in concern, as his eyes wandered both the boy’s and your body to see if you were injured. The adrenaline had kept you going so far, but now that it was wearing off, you managed to inspect yourself. “N-no, I don’t think so,” you said at last, ignoring the few bruises and damaged skin; it was nothing serious.

The boy shook his head in silence before Kix kneeled at his side. He grabbed a nervestick from the bag he was carrying and handed it to the kid. “Here, chew on this; you’ll feel better,” the clone elaborated, and the kid took it gladly. You smiled at the sight of him caring for the boy you had taken care of that evening. You turned around to orientate yourself, but you started feeling light-headed, resulting in your legs giving way underneath you.

“Woah ma’am, take it easy,” Jesse shot worriedly at you, grabbing your shoulders to keep you from collapsing. You flustered your eyelashes a few times, before returning to reality. “I-I’m sorry, tonight was just a bit much. I think I could use some sugar,” you replied with a faint smile. Jesse returned it with a big grin. “I think we can arrange that,” was his response, thinking about all the abandoned candy they could still collect. “Let’s get the both of you home and see what we’ll find on the way.”

---

Whilst being escorted home by Jesse and Kix, you noticed a lot more clones running about, taking care of any rogue droids left haunting the streets. There was so much chaos and mayhem around, but you felt safer knowing the clones were around. Knowing Jesse and Kix took care of you now.

The three of you were able to bring the boy back home safely, and the clones insisted they wanted to do the same for you. You were just too glad to be accompanied to your home after all the recent events, hoping you wouldn’t encounter any more droids on the way. But you felt you were in capable hands.

“I can’t thank you enough for saving me and the kid,” you smiled at them as they walked you home, slightly hanging unto Jesse to keep yourself balanced, and he happily aided you. “It’s alright, ma’am. Nothing we’re not used to,” he smiled at you, swinging an arm around your waist to support you. Kix shot the both of you a quick glance before he chuckled softly.

“There’s just one thing I can’t get my head around..,” you started, your thoughts wandering back to your visit to the fortune teller’s booth earlier during the night, when life seemed simpler and less worrisome. Both clones shot you a confused look, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “You’ll probably laugh at me if I explain, but the short version is that someone told me I would be saved by lightning tonight.”

The clones shared looks before Jesse started snickering. With his free hand, he pointed at his brother. “That would be Kix,” he said cryptically, and when you looked over to him, he brushed his hairs aside with his fingers. There you noticed the indistinct lines of lightning tattooed on his scalp. You huffed in amazement; Fumetta had been right about her whole prediction.

..and you will be saved by lightning.

You would never laugh at fortune tellers ever again. “Did that someone tell you about me saving you as well?” Jesse shot at you, with the most seductive smile on his face. You grinned back at him. “She sure did, big guy,” you chuckled at him, right before you reached your house. For once, you were happy you didn’t own any household droids, ironically grateful for all the times you had to clean and cook for yourself.

“This is my stop, boys,” you said a bit reluctantly, because the thought of being alone right after these events frightened you more than you wanted to admit. Jesse supported you to your door, where you struggled to open it due to your shaking hands. “Uhm, maybe Kix should take a closer look at any possible injuries after all - inside, that is,” he suggested smoothly. Your eyes glistened for a moment, and you turned towards him with a grateful smile.

But these were clones, they probably had better things to do than babysit you. “I-I don’t want to hold you up for any longer,” you stammered, before biting your lower lip to show your conflicted mind. Jesse chuckled with a shrug before easing your mind: “It wouldn’t be a problem. It was our evening off anyway, we don’t have places to be.” It brought back the smile on your face in an instant, and you finally managed to open your door.

Kix cleared his throat and you missed the look he shared with his brother. “But of course we don’t want to intrude on you, ma’am,” he added to the conversation, and he couldn’t have sounded more genuine. You turned towards them as soon as you made it inside your home. “I would really appreciate the company, actually,” you said softly, just when Fumetta’s last words echoed through your mind.

Don’t forget to be as generous later tonight..

You bit your lower lip again, but this time not from any conflicted thoughts. You were quite certain of this one, you just hoped you weren't intruding on them. “We could, er- continue the trick-or-treating inside,” you suggested, a busted blush painting your cheeks. The boys shared another look, before they turned to you with grins adorning their handsome faces. “We really couldn’t say ‘no’ to that, ma’am,” Jesse smirked at you, before they both made it to your threshold in all modesty.

Maybe this Halloween would be saved by a cog and lightning in various ways.

Haunted droids/droid uprising for @pinahallowsevecloneparty

[jo-harrington]

HEY. GIVE ME THE TENTACLES WITH THE KNIGHT.

❤️❤️❤️

Meg, my love...it's gonna start off soft but...let's just get weird with it. (Their whole relationship is a weird one anyway. Why not.)

Warnings/Themes: Smut, Dry Humping, P in V sex, metaphorical monsterfucking (just...have a really open imagination about this), soulmates(? but we already knew that...), the Knight reads a poem to Eddie.

Quoting "The Kraken" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Find other Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

October 1984

Below the thunders of the upper deep, Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

It was another lazy Sunday with no work or homework or any other obligations.

You had worked on Saturday morning, then got lunch with one of your coworkers from Bradley's. Eddie had spent a majority of his day at the library to find books to reference so he could finish up his plans for his Halloween One Shot for Hellfire, and then he dragged you to some party that he was asked to deal.

It wasn't your crowd; wasn't his either--the rich pretty kids that lived on the right side of the tracks--but the beer was free, and he'd sold enough to squirrel a bunch of cash away around the trailer, fill his wallet, and treat you to McDonalds for breakfast.

"Only the crispiest of hash browns for my angel," he said as he slipped back into his room after making the food run and presented you with the bag. You rolled your eyes and gave him a reluctant thank you kiss; he knew you hated that nickname.

And now you were lazing in bed, surrounded by books and each other. Your own little world. The stereo was on, softly playing some mix that you surprised him with. A perfect blend of your tastes and his.

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep The Kraken sleepeth:

"Hey this is a cool one." Your voice broke through the tranquil atmosphere and you shifted closer to him.

Eddie abandoned his note taking so he could look at what you had found. He vaguely recalled grabbing the book because the faded green cover had been embossed with tentacles. He didn't even know what was in it, it just looked interesting.

"The Kraken." You grinned and began reading, even though Eddie was close enough to see the poem himself.

Eddie chose to watch you instead.

The poem was short, so he didn't get to watch for very long, but he let his sight feed his hungry heart. And oh, how hungry it was.

He knew he would never get his fill of you.

This was where Eddie wanted to be forever.

He could try to imagine some kind of future with you but the details didn't matter. Whether it was a mansion after Corroded Coffin hit it big, or another trailer here in Hawkins if he dropped out of school and got a job at Thacker Tires. Or any and all variations in between.

All that mattered to him was that when you got to the heart of your lives, the very depths of your beings, when you took a peek into the 4 walls that constituted a home...there was just the two of you.

He wanted to be with you, alongside you, harmonious. Inside of you. Buried deep in your heart and in your mind where you could never get him out, even if you tried.

He knew the lightness in you filled and brightened all the dark parts of him and he could only hope that he did the same for you.

He would give everything.

faintest sunlights flee About his shadowy sides; above him swell Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;

You finished your recitation and went about on a tangent about divine and infernal beings, as you often did when you were inspired.

Tiamat and primordial chaos. Leviathan and the consumption of the damned.

Something stirred deep within him. A need. He would have made a joke about tentacles being a turn on, but when you looked at him expectantly, he didn't hesitate to kiss you.

Eddie looked forward to this. You both did, obviously. You basked in the emotional connection almost immediately after you met, but the physical aspect of your relationship was a journey you embarked on together after your first real date. Neither of you were inexperienced, but everything took a deeper meaning when you explored.

It was a euphoric experience the first time you kissed, touched, explored, fucked.

This was no different.

Your mouths were greedy things; they always were. Eddie preferred to bite while you liked to lick and lave. And while he was the one to initiate this little dalliance, he was happy to let you take control, to take what you wanted.

In the end he still got what he wanted too.

To be consumed by you. And to consume you in return.

And far away into the sickly light, From many a wondrous grot and secret cell Unnumbered and enormous polypi Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.

You nudged him onto his back and he winced at the dig of his notebook beneath his shoulder blade. You sensed the hitch of his breath as discomfort turned into pain, and further still into pleasure as you pushed your body into his, pushed him further into the bed, and let the promised heat of you engulf him. Your fingers slithered through his hair, nails raking against his sensitive scalp, and gave him something to focus on as your tongue pillaged his mouth, traced the grooves of his teeth, mated with his tongue.

He could feel you deep in his very being, licking into his ventricles...searching...searching...

Eddie moaned into your mouth, a sinful sound that even made himself a little more aroused, and your body reacted in kind. Your fingers dug, drilled through his skull and implanted themselves into his brain, depositing impure thoughts and demanding precious affection. Something he so willingly gave.

You could have him, possess him, protect him, and cherish him. Destroy him if you really wanted to, he didn't quite care.

You rolled your hips, clothed core seeking the delicious friction so you could be reborn anew. He angled his own his up, bucked into you. His release would come but he would give into the demand for the rich, ripe fury of yours first.

When you found it, you refused to retreat. Fell against him. Carved the place in his chest where you could live forever. Cradled in the hollow of his body, tangled in his veins, curled around his heart.

His hands gripped you, soothed you. Offered you respite from the savagery of this ritual. And when you were ready, pushed you back.

You patiently peeled one another's layers away. Clothes and skin and sinew. You shed your mortal forms until you were raw and visceral and vulnerable.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep, Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;

It was Eddie’s turn now. He liked to believe that he was not as demanding as you, needy little thing that you were. But he had an insatiable hunger of his own.

And much like the leviathan, he would consume what was in his path.

He laid you back and his teeth nipped. He sucked and slurped at what slickness you had to offer, then it was his turn for his tongue to breech you. To search and find the truest path that would belay his ultimate prize.

It didn't take long, and he didn't need to be as thorough as you were, unfortunately. But as your soft little whines became desperate and ear-splitting, he knew you were prepared.

Eddie offered sweet kisses to every inch of you as he ascended, to the fluttering, wanting softness of your core, to your hundred searching limbs that begged him closer, to your bared throat that pulsed with your life-force. Your cheeks, your eyelids, and finally your lips, still open and panting but eager to accept all he had to offer.

Then once by man and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise

Eddie sunk deep into you. The rigid, veiny thickness of his cock dragged deliciously into your channel and when he finally found his prize, as he went as deep as he could go, he reared his head and released a gnarled, baritone wail.

It shook the walls and penetrated into the very core of the earth itself. Every God and Devil would know that the two of you had found each other, had found your way home. It was destined; it was foretold. And every power that be knew that if they dared to pull you apart, armageddon would soon follow.

When the tremors finally stopped and you had all senses about you, Eddie's hips drillled and pistoned, down and deeper, to memorize the welcoming softness of you. Every cavern, every chamber, every crevice, until he could practically taste your light.

And he transcended with violent delight.

He gave everything he could, emptied his being of himself so he could accept all of you. Every spurt a plea and a promise all at once. And he didn't need to curl himself around your heart, even if he desired it, because you reached into your chest and handed it to him. It was bloody and raw and dripping around your talons.

As you forced it to take the vacant space that he just revealed to you, he collapsed upon you, panting.

You held him, whispered sweet things into his ear.

"I need you. I see you. I want you. I love you, Eddie Munson."

and on the surface die.

[seiwas]

Sel how long is your tbr list ? And which fic(s) are looking forward to read the most ?

nonie hello!!! 🥹 my tbr rn is at ~150 🥲😭 (i put them in my drafts!! and i have huge backlog bc i just recently got off a reading ban while writing 'these traces of love, they outline you' 🥹)

listing some hehe this is gonna be long so i'll put it under the cut!!! (in no particular order of preference but it's categorised by anime & character)

am sure there are so many more i'm probably missing/weren't able to see yet tho!!

for jjk

intrinsic warmth by thatdesklamp (series, ongoing, gojo satoru) been wanting to read this for a while but just trying to find the time to!

godmaker by @firein-thesky (series, ongoing, gojo satoru) has been in my tbr for the longest time and every time i see cielo talk abt it i get itching to read it hsajhdfbj

[untitled 'halloween' fic] by @stellamancer (one-shot, gojo satoru) not yet out but niku's been working really hard on this and am so excited hehehe

and i'm asking you to hold me just like the morning paper by @selarina (one-shot, gojo satoru) older brother's best friend gojo; am such a sucker for long titles and older brother's bsf tropes! i also love rina v much!

bfb by @em1e (series, ongoing, kamo choso) best friends's older brother choso; emmie shared the idea and some scenes with me when she was conceptualising it and it was the final push that tipped me over to being a choso fucker

chaos theory by @/hawnks (one-shot, nanami kento) strangers to lovers nanami; op wrote one of my favourite gojo fics ever, cantor’s paradox!!

as it should have been by @k9nto (one-shot, nanami kento) friends to lovers nanami; tallulah always talks about how much fun she had writing this so i'm excited to get to this too!

let me out, i'm starving by @princess-okkotsu (one-shot, okkotsu yuuta) fwb!yuuta; aleks tipped me over to being a yuuta fucker and the idea of an fwb!yuuta with the way aleks characterises him is just soo ouuuuGHH

all of @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat's new fics!! i have so many of ari's fics to catch up on!! but characterisation is always on point and the writing always feels like a movie!! (there are gojo, megumi, and yuuta ones afair!!)

every time @augustinewrites drops smth!! the fushigojos live in my mind but augustine's doing an anniversary event rn themed after taylor swift lyrics!! and the line-up looks so good!!

inez's @itadorey masterlist still have yet to do a sweep of inez's masterlist but i always find myself smiling reading her stuff!! (lot of gojo!!)

lin's @threadbaresweater older stuff while going thru lin's masterlist i saw a gojo fic and nanami fic i'm excited to read!! lin always writes with a certain kind of vulnerability that digs deep!!

for bnha

something just like this by @/ofmermaids (series, complete, midoriya izuku) i've been wanting to get to this for so so long. op wrote some of my favourite bakugo fics, surrender (whenever you're ready) + on my way (to you); this almost feels like a reward i'm saving for when i really have the time tbh

you had only to look at me by @willowser (series, complete, bakugo katsuki) childhood bff!bakugo; i read this a long time ago but willow reposted it and i am!! so excited to read it again!!!

nitroglycerine by @/alrightberries (one-shot, bakugo katsuki) kind of fwb!bakugo; the description/summary got to me omg and am such a sucker for fwb to lovers and the weird in-between

like real people do by @shibaraki (one-shot, todoroki shouto) strangers to friends to lovers; this has been in my tbr for so long too and can't wait to get to it bc i love the way monty writes shouto!!

the glass delusion by @shibaraki (series, on-going, todoroki shouto) touch-starved shouto; i read the first installment and am such a sucker for explorations of intimacy!! so am so excited for this one too!!

i'll find my way (back to you) - homecoming by @bluebird-in-the-breeze (side story of a series, complete, todoroki shouto) chef!reader; read the entire series and loved it!! i love birdie's writing and was so happy that she recently released this for the series's 1 year anniversary!!

i think i'm in love with my coworker (update) by @todorosie (one-shot, todoroki shouto) coworker shouto; the title alone had me so curious omg and i love the tone of sorin's spidey!gojo series so am excited to get to this too!!

fill my little world (right up) by @shibaraki (one-shot, aizawa shouta) single dad au; such a sucker for this au!! and am also really selective with the aizawa stuff i read but always love monty's!!!

the kids are gonna be alright by @shibaraki (one-shot, aizawa shouta) coworkers to lovers; i love the premise of this so much!! i love these kinds of explorations and idk!! again!! i am a shibaraki stan!! i love everything monty writes hjsdbgjfs i've been really wanting to go through monty's entire masterlist too!! (there's a lot of writing to feast on and no matter who it is i think monty always writes em well)

andie's @andypantsx3 entire masterlist!! andie has soooo many stuff i want to read i can't even single one out omg i never feel the length when i read andie's stuff!!

for hq!!

the burden of being by @sashimiyas (one-shot, miya osamu) amnesia au; this has been in my drafts for so long too bc i'm still afraid of reading it but reina writes some of my fave hq fics so am excited to sink my teeth into this!! honestly am also excited to go thru reina's entire masterlist + osamu masterlist!!

get him back by @noosayog (one-shot, miya osamu) fake dating osamu; fake dating is one of my fave tropes and i also love noos's writing!! osamu is also my comfort character... so all of this just speaks to me

cross check by @kagelun (series, on-going, iwaizumi hajime) hockey player!iwaizumi; my god i'll read anything iwa anyway but to have him be an athlete for a completely different sport... just does smth to my brain... also kit has the most insane iwa thoughts i'm excited for this

seasons by @mintmatcha (one-shot, hanamaki takahiro) friends to lovers; love mint's stuff and am trying to get into makki more lately so i can fully immerse into seijoh4!! also really love a friends to lovers any day

one, two, and... (onlyfans) by @mintmatcha (one-shot, hanamaki takahiro + matsukawa issei) was sooo excited for this when mint announced they were working on it omfg literally vibrating w excitement to get to this

for multi

leah's @missmeinyourbones new stuff not sure if they're new or just being resurfaced but i see leah rb some of her stuff and am so excited to get to each one asbfj so i might actually just do a masterlist sweep atp... (she's one of my fave writers fr)

[docnefarious]

Surprise! A certain someone has left yet another surprise for Nefarious in his station, and not too long after one of their more recent pranks. But, no, it's not more posters or decoys. No, this time, it's pumpkins. Like, a LOT of pumpkins. They're everywhere in the station. And they all have familiar faces carved one them that the prankster knows the doctor just loves. And finally, as always, there's a purple note with a V on it left on his desk that says: Thought I could start a little early with the decorations for Halloween. Hope you like it, doc~

@nether-twins

Even before the lights flicked on, he knew something was up. Those weird shadows were definitely not there before... and upon stepping through the door, the light flicking on automatically, that was only confirmed.

Pumpkins???? Pumpkins everywhere. "UGH." His eye twitched and his arms dropped down limply at his sides. Why was he EVEN SURPRISED anymore!?

Already knowing what he'd find, he stomped further into the room, clutching the files he'd been carrying so tightly that they crumpled in his grip. Storming up to his desk, he slammed the papers down onto its surface and caught sight of that familiar purple letter... an enraged growl escaped him as he snatched it up and read it.

His foot began to tap wildly as the letter was slowly dragged down from his face, only to bring him face-to-face with a Qwark-themed jack o' lantern. The likeness was uncanny. And it was staring straight at him. Part of him may have been impressed by Vendra's dedication, IF IT WASN'T SO ANNOYING!!! Honestly—"WAS BLACKMAILING AND ATTEMPTING TO MURDER YOU REALLY THAT BAD!!?!?!!" Both hands shot out suddenly and gripped the pumpkin, then whipped it straight against the wall, where it instantly exploded everywhere into a giant splatter of pulp and seeds.

"… oops."

Yeah, he hadn't thought that through.

But one thing was clear. And that was that this was all Vendra's fault. It was clear what needed to be done.

"REVENGE!!!!! IT'S ALWAYS THE ANSWER!!!!!"

CUE THE MANIACLE LAUGHTER. HE WOULD SHOW HER WHY IT WAS CALLED 'TRICK' OR TREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meanwhile, click for live Lawrence reaction.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Slayers

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: Vampires begin attacking people in Los Angeles, and as the chosen one, it's up to you and your partner to stop them.

Warnings: mentions of being shot, discussion/depiction of drugs, typical The Rookie warnings, spoilers/references from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

A/N: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Rookie 4x05 "A.C.H." mixed in my mind and this is the product. (This isn't set at Halloween though.)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“I can’t believe I just witnessed Tim Bradford get shot,” you muse as you exit the liquor store, pushing the handcuffed shooter toward the shop.

“I didn’t mean to!” the man says.

“You have the right to remain silent, and I’d suggest you take it,” Tim snaps.

“I think he’s mad,” you whisper as you open the back door. “Watch your head.”

After the door closes, you press your lips together and look over the hood at Tim. He points at you, a silent warning to stay quiet.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “That bullet hit you right in the throat.”

“It was a NERF gun.”

“Right, sorry, that cartridge hit you pretty fast.”

“Drop it,” Tim warns.

“I’m just worried about your health, Tim. Getting shot isn’t easy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and waves you off as he enters the shop. You join him in the car, and when he looks over, you raise your hands as a promise won’t bring it up again... for now.

“7-Adam-15,” Nolan says over the radio. “Unknown… 11-2… bite!”

Tim furrows his brows as he watches the radio. Nolan sounded upset, but the audio cutting in and out worries you more.

“Nolan, repeat that?” Wade requests.

“One suspect in custody,” Nyla answers. “We need an RA. The suspect- he bit somebody.”

“That’s not weird,” Tim murmurs.

“Sergeant, he’s got fangs and there’s too much blood for one bite,” Nyla adds.

“Sending additional units now, Harper,” Wade radios. “RA’s en route.”

“Did she say fangs?” you repeat. Tim reaches for the radio, but you snatch it to ask, “Nyla, are you at Sunset and Highland?”

“Just north of it,” she replies.

“We can’t respond,” Tim points out. “This genius needs to get to booking.”

“The trigger was faulty!” the man behind you defends.

“The trigger was plastic.”

“No, Tim, this is just starting,” you state.

“What?”

“Fangs, blood, biting? Tim, that was a vampire.”

Tim narrows his eyes at you before he scoffs. The wannabe liquor store thief behind you whimpers, but you know better than to push the subject. Hooking your finger under your hidden necklace chain, you can only hope that a vampire sighting in the middle of the day isn’t a bad omen.

“Bradford!” Wade yells as you exit booking. “We’ve got over a thousand calls about sightings, attacks, and assaults. Whatever this is, it started somewhere.”

“Whatever what is?” Tim asks.

“Have you been listening to your radio?”

“More vampires,” you say. “Any leads?”

“Not a single one.”

“Were Nolan and Harper the first to make contact with the vampires?”

“Yes they were. Do you have an idea?”

“They were less than a block from Bar Sinister,” you begin.

Tim raises his hand and cuts you off to say, “Don’t start with this again. Location relative to a bar doesn’t give people fangs and make them bloodthirsty.”

“Tim, most of the people who frequent Bar Sinister have sharpened or enhanced canines to look like fangs,” you point out. Turning to Wade, you ask, “Are they actually biting people?”

“Yep,” Nyla answers from behind you. “Drinking the blood and everything.”

“It’s gross,” Nolan mumbles.

“The bar sounds like the best starting place we’ve got,” Wade decides. “You four go check it out.”

“And when we find that it’s just a bar and have no idea where the blood drinking is coming from?” Tim challenges.

“Hellmouth,” you remember.

“From Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Nolan inquires. “I loved that show.”

“No, not the Hellmouth. It’s a newer drug, making its way to high-end buyers.”

“How do you know that?” Tim asks, his brows pinched.

“A friend of mine, Tan, he worked vice back when Hellmouth had just started. It’s a combination of oxy, anti-psychotics, and some unregulated hallucinogen,” you explain. “Those medications in combination, excess, even, might disrupt the brain enough to make someone thirsty for blood.”

“I’ll let narcotics know,” Wade responds. “For now, get to that bar and find out if it’s ground zero for Hellmouth.”

“How do you know all of this?” Tim asks as you return to the shop.

“I do my homework,” you answer lightly.

“Yeah, and you’re a vampire slayer,” Tim replies sarcastically.

“It seems like we’re both slayers now.”

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Tim complains as you return to the shop after the most recent dead-end lead. The sun has set, but your end of watch is nowhere in sight. Now, there are even more bloodthirsty civilians on the streets of Los Angeles.

“What do we do now?” you ask, looking into the dark alley.

“You tell me, slayer.”

You nod and pull the silver necklace chain under your uniform. “Which makes you Angel, my dark, mysterious helper.”

“Sure,” Tim answers, preparing to pull out and return to patrol.

“Who I shouldn’t kiss but really, really want to.”

Tim’s eyes widen, and his fingers curl tighter around the steering wheel. His triceps flex, popping beneath his sleeves, as he pushes against the wheel, unsure what to say or how serious you are.

“That’s not… we should,” Tim begins. “Actually, you, uh-“

“Tim,” you interrupt. You reach across the car and place your hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” Tim whispers. He nods to himself as he repeats, “Okay.”

You turn toward your window and hesitate before you say, “Uh, Tim?”

“What?” he asks, his arm tensing under your hand.

“There’s a vampire at the window.”

Tim looks over quickly, your hand sliding from his arm. The man nearing your door has sharpened canine teeth, and a thick red substance drips from his chin. When he raises a hand, prepared to break your window, Tim yanks the gear shift into reverse and presses the gas pedal to the floor.

“7-Adam-19,” you radio urgently.

“Additional units and RA en route,” Wade replies before you finish.

“Any word from narcotics on where this is coming from?” you inquire as Tim leans over the wheel to watch the man.

“Nothing. They’re not even sure what it is, but they’re tracking your Hellmouth lead.”

You return the radio to its place on the dash and raise your phone. “Screw this, if I’m the slayer, I’m getting our answers.”

“Do it quickly, because he’s not alone,” Tim says.

You look up, your finger hovering over your phone screen. There are at least half a dozen men now, and you have no idea how to stop them.

“Got any wooden stakes in your war bag?” you joke, but it comes out as a desperate last resort.

“They’re still people. We can keep them contained.”

“Until when? Sunrise? Tim, without knowing what they’re on, we’re blind in this.”

“Then be a slayer,” Tim answers. “But do it quickly!”

“C’mon, answer,” you plead softly. The call connects, and immediately, you say, “Does Narcan work on Hellmouth?”

“What?” Tan asks.

“Victor, we’re dealing with vampires, answer the question!”

“Hellmouth doesn’t always respond to Narcan, it depends on the chemical makeup. If there’s an opiate, yes, administer it.”

“And if I don’t know what’s in it?”

“What’s going on down there?”

“Right now, I’m trapped in a shop with six high vampires outside. How’s your day going?”

“Hellmouth wears off quickly, either the ingested blood dilutes it, or the body starts shutting down,” Tan explains. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Okay, thanks, Tan.” After you end the call, you tell Tim, “We can wait it out or try to get to all of them with Narcan.”

“We wait,” Tim decides quickly. “But we need to know where these drugs are coming from.”

“I have a bad idea.”

“Don’t get out of the car.”

“I’m going to get out of the car.”

Tim says your name, but you exit the shop and raise your hands. “You guys don’t want to meet my friend in there,” you call. “I’ve got a silver cross around my neck, but he’s a whole lot meaner than me.”

The men stop, and one collapses before he begins convulsing on the ground. It’s wearing off, you think. Within a minute, all of them have slowed or fallen. Tim exits the shop and radios for the ambulances to meet them on the scene.

“Where did you get the drugs?” Tim asks the last conscious vampire.

“Bar Sinister,” he groans. “It was initiation night.”

Tim’s jaw clenches, and you smile as you taunt, “Told you so.”

“LAPD!” Tim yells as he enters the bar.

“Hands up!” you instruct. “Everybody!”

“Officers,” the pink-haired bartender says with a tired sigh. “I can assure you that our liquor license is up to date.”

“And the illegal drugs turning people into vampires?” Tim asks. “Is that license up to date?”

“Initiation?” she asks. “That’s a placebo, it’s just a sugar pill.”

“What?” someone demands across the bar. His fangs make it sound like waff?

“How often do you do this initiation ceremony?” Nyla asks.

“Once a week, sometimes more depending on the crowd size. We did it two nights ago, had about two hundred people through that night.”

“Grey,” you radio. “How many people have we brought in on Hellmouth?”

“About 150,” he replies.

“That means there’s fifty more,” you realize. “We need to confiscate what’s left of the drug.”

“Oh, uh…” The bartender fumbles for words before she blurts out, “I gave them to my boyfriend, and he sold them.”

“How many?” Tim demands. “How many did he sell?”

“About a hundred pills to five or six people,” she answers quietly. “I swear I didn’t know what was in them.”

“What’s your boyfriend’s name?” you ask. When she shakes her head, you add, “You don’t want to get any more involved in this than you already are, what’s his name?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“I love Los Angeles,” Nolan murmurs to himself.

“What’s he go by?” Nyla asks.

“Spike,” she says. “Like-“

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” everyone in the bar finishes.

“You’re never riding in my shop again,” Tim tells you.

“Um, excuse me, officer?” a woman huddled in a booth by the door calls.

You nod to Tim before you approach her, and she gestures for you to come closer. With you squatted beside her seat, she leans forward to whisper in your ear.

“Spike didn’t sell them. He’s keeping them for himself,” she says.

“Why?” you ask softly.

“He saw what they did and thought, you know, that he could use them for something.”

“To make more vampires,” you guess. “Do you know where Spike is?”

“He’s in a house in the hills, I don’t know which one.”

“He can afford something in the Hollywood Hills?”

She shakes her head and mentions that he’s housesitting for a family member whose name she doesn’t know. “What I do know is that he owns this place. We don’t know his real name, but it must be on some kind of record or something, right?”

“Thank you…” you begin, hoping she’ll tell you her name.

“Buffy, and, yes, it’s my real name.”

“Thanks, Buffy.”

“Narcotics is here,” Tim alerts. “Folks, you’ll have to give a statement before you leave tonight. If you choose not to, there’s a nice holding cell where you can spend the night and enjoy your vampire daydreams.”

“Guys, I’ve got something,” you tell Tim, Nolan, and Nyla quietly. “Spike’s in the hills, and his real name is on the property records as owner.”

“A wooden stake would’ve been easier,” Tim grumbles.

“Spike, man, hey!” Nolan yells. “It’s been too long.”

“Do I know you, bub?” Spike replies.

“I thought he was Spike, not Wolverine,” Lucy murmurs at your side.

“He’s insane,” Nyla corrects.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nolan continues, approaching Spike on the sidewalk. “But there’s so much filth inside your head, ain’t no room for the words of truth. Right? Listen, I’ll let you think about whatever you want, but I need some sunny in my dale, you know what I’m sayin’?”

“He’s laying it on a little thick,” Lucy says.

“It’s kind of creepy how much he sounds like Caleb,” you mumble. When Nyla looks at you, you ask, “Am I the only one that watched the show?”

“Yeah, I gotchu,” Spike replies. “We’re just down the hill from the Hellmouth if you want to see it?”

“Love to,” Nolan agrees, discreetly signaling you to follow him.

As he joins Spike on the sidewalk and walks up the hill toward Spike’s aunt’s house, you drive slowly in the dark SUV. Tim and a Metro team are waiting at the house, but if anything goes wrong before they cross the property line, it's your job to handle it.

“Grey said our two hundred vampires are accounted for and receiving treatment,” Nyla says, reading a message on her phone. “So, once we’ve got Spike and the rest of Hellmouth, we can finally go home.”

“And do it all again tomorrow,” you add cheerfully.

“Hey, what freaked Tim out so much earlier?” Lucy inquires. “When we got there to take in the six vamps, he was totally off his game.”

“Well, one of them snuck up on us. Plus, I implied I wanted to kiss him even though I shouldn’t,” you answer without looking away from Nolan and Spike.

“Implied?” Nyla repeats, barely concealing her smile.

“We’ve got to move.”

You exit the car to stay behind Nolan and Spike on foot. When they reach the top of the hill and see the officers waiting, Spike turns quickly.

“As much as I’d get a big laugh watching Bradford kick your skinny, white bum, and as much as I know I can give you a little bum-kicking myself right now, I’m here to tell you something: you’re not even worth it,” you quote, leveling your gun on Spike. “And you’re under arrest.”

He furrows his brows, and you sigh in the realization that he doesn’t understand the references either. Maybe I’m the chosen one in this generation, you think.

“Where’s the rest of the Hellmouth drug?” Nyla asks after reciting his Miranda rights. “They’re going to search the house anyway, so if you tell us now, you might save yourself some trouble.”

“In the urn above the fireplace,” Spike admits. “It opens clockwise.”

“Whose urn?” Lucy asks. “Wait, no, I don’t want to know.”

“Bradford,” you radio. “Spike’s in custody. Hellmouth is in the urn over the fireplace, which opens clockwise.”

“Nice work, Buffy,” Nolan tells you.

“Wait, you’re Buffy?” Spike asks.

“Not happening,” you and Nyla exclaim together.

“I want a lawyer,” Spike demands.

“How’d you know all of this stuff?” Lucy inquires.

“I’ve heard about Hellmouth before, it’s unique enough that it wasn’t hard to piece together. And Bar Sinister was on my beat when I was a rookie. They used to know me in there, I could just walk in and high five a few people to respond to noise disturbance calls.”

“And kissing Tim, your Angel?” Nyla teases.

“Is something that I probably need to apologize for. Again.”

“Tim, wait up!” you call, jogging through the station parking lot.

When he turns, you stop suddenly and blink in surprise. Two white fangs glint in the streetlight above you, and though you can tell they’re fake, it still catches you off guard.

“Cute,” you murmur. “Look, I’m sorry for all the teasing and the comment about kissing you. It just- I guess it was my way of dealing with a weird day.”

Tim shrugs, and you offer your hand to shake his. He takes your hand, holding it rather than shaking it.

“Do Buffy and Angel end up together?” he asks clumsily around the cheap mouthpiece.

“I’m not spoiling the show for you. You’ll have to watch it for yourself.”

Tim smiles before he pulls your hand. You try to catch yourself rather than run into his chest, but Tim’s arm wraps around your waist and keeps you close as he dips his chin and kisses you. The plastic fangs hit your bottom lip as you raise your hands to hold Tim’s jaw. Tim moves with you, both of you forgetting about the fangs as you get lost in one another. When you pull back, breathless, Tim removes his hand from your waist and removes the mouthpiece, sliding it into his pocket for another time, you’re sure.

“So,” you begin slowly. “How’s your throat?”

Tim shakes his head and tightens his arm around your waist.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “Want to go watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer? You’re going to love Giles.”

“I’ve been shot, attacked by vampires, and had to dig through an urn to find illegal street drugs today, and you’re going to suggest we watch that?”

“You said you wanted to know who Buffy chooses.”

“I want to know what you are choosing,” Tim says, his eyes dropping quickly to your lips.

“I think you know,” you answer, laying your palm against his cheek. “But let’s try this without the fangs and I’ll let you know for sure.”

“Getting shot in the throat hurt less.”

You roll your eyes and push yourself against Tim’s chest to kiss him again. He might be quiet and mysterious at times, but you and he both know, in this moment, that he’s all you’ll ever want.

[iainwrites]

One last parting shot of the summer 2023 "fuck it why not" list!

-Scary Movie (nowhere near as good as I remember it)

-A co-watch of Scream V. Enjoyed much more than Scary Movie, and enjoyed the fact that I was watching it with a friend and could do my predictions/analysis with them in real time.

-Dr Who 50th Anniversary Special. It's been a LONG TIME since I watched it. Now that I have little connection to the series, watching it critically for the story instead of going along with the hullabaloo of the anniversary, I can say that it's a good Doctor Who story. The way the plot can be moved along thanks to having 3 Doctors is done in a clever way, and more often than not, it's just plain entertaining. The Tom Baker stuff feels a little out of place with everything else, but that final nod to the past has its role, I guess.

-AND! An Adventure in Space and Time. I never watched this when it aired, or when I bought it. Completely wonderful stuff. David Bradley has only ever been the crotchety old man/bastard, so to see him do something similar and different was great. Plus, being able to see something new from a series I inhaled once upon a time is a rare treat these days. The "I don't want to go" feels a little heavy handed, but everything else was pretty fun.

-The Long Halloween. A solid "meh." I came up with the Batman/Superman/Justice League/JLU, so my views on any DC animated piece are biased. Plus, The Long Halloween was one of the first non-TV/movie pieces of Bat-media I took in, which biases my opinion on it doubly so. It's an okay movie; they keep some stuff the same, they change others (sometimes for weird reasons); Troy Baker imitates Mark Hamil but doesn't sound quite right (that's a "me" thing). I don't regret watching it, but it's not something I'm rushing back to see again (see "Mask of the Phantasm").

-The Flash. Another "meh." The reprise of the Danny Elfman theme was very nice, but everything else just happened. And the swearing; you don't need cuss words to be entertaining or interesting. Use them sparingly as punctuation.

-I Know What You Did Last Summer. I was never a horror fan, but going back to things that came out in my hey-day is pretty fun. It was a good movie, too; good killer reveal, fine acting from all on board. I can see where Scary Movie took some of the ideas, and can see when I Know did it a hell of a lot better.

-Starship Troopers. There's probably going to be a big lore read on it later. A military science fiction concept with some pretty interesting world building: I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I did.

[datawyrms]

Tick

He hadn’t wanted to just run off to the Far Frozen again, to take advantage of his ghostly allies for every little problem. Feeling a bit funny in ghost form wasn’t anything new, wasn’t something worth worrying about. It was just a noise. A little thing.

He figured it was just his heart, still beating under ectoplasmic skin. It only felt louder, made his chest twinge uncomfortably because that wasn’t normal for ghosts, that’s all. He was only imaging the click. There wasn't a tick.

He ignored it. It did not ignore him. The stiffness, the discomfort only increased. He had hundreds of reasons to brush it off. How many ghosts had bones like he did? He felt fine after he changed back. It was a ghost only problem, and of course he felt sore as a ghost! Danny fought ghosts as a ghost, and got very well acquainted with the texture of buildings doing so. It would be strange if he wasn’t sore sometimes.

He would have kept ignoring it, dismissing it if his hand hadn’t seized up. It wouldn’t move beyond the slightest shudder, as if his muscles had locked in place. Being human didn’t make the sudden lock up vanish, and the noise he swore had been his heart clicked so loudly in his ears that he thought something had broken.

So much for not bothering Frostbite.

“I can suggest steps, Great One, but without confronting the cause the changes will continue.” The yeti’s massive fuzzy hand on his shoulder was not very comforting with the news that came with it. “Nor can I reasonably expect we would be able to make the ghosts responsible reverse it.”

“I don’t care who it is, I’ll still clobber them if it cuts this creepy stuff out.” Creepy was an understatement, but the only word he could think of. The ticking kept going at the same constant speed, ignoring or blind to his irritation and fear.

“It would be beyond even you. I am sorry. However, any of us here would be willing to assist you. I fear living outside of the Infinite Realms may become difficult if your body locks up more severely.”

“I’m not going to let someone make me unable to go home because they put some dumb ghost curse on me!”

Frostbite did not laugh, did not shrug and let him go ‘try’. Instead his grip tightened as he lowered his great head down to his eye level. “Young one, you cannot fight off time itself. I do not know why it has ensnared you, or how you caught its attention. I only know how to help you keep those growing gears in order.”

It sounded even worse when he phrased it like that. Gears? Like it wasn’t bad enough that he was half some weird ghost, he had to just add weird mechanical bits in too? “What do you mean time itself? You said a ghost did it!”

“Yes. There is a ghost, in theory. I do not know if they actually exist. I only know that in order to keep ‘peace’ within the realms time will twist some ghosts. To give them weaknesses, to keep any one ghost from becoming greater than it.” Frostbite didn’t flinch from his yell, instead focusing on Danny’s much smaller hand, ever so gently moving it and listening for a small click in each joint. “If they do not wish to be found, they will not be. I should be able to fix the misalignment- but it is temporary. Your body will not move in perfect sync with these new growths. They’ll catch and freeze like this again if you are not careful.”

Danny felt an awful lump in his throat. There was only one ghost that did time stuff? One ghost that was doing this to him? Putting freaky cogs and gears under his skin so they’d catch and break? To leave him helpless and unable to move like how his hand had become useless?

It wasn’t a nice thought, but he didn’t want to argue with Frostbite about a ‘time ghost’. If it wasn’t who he was thinking of, they’d know more than his fuzzy friend anyway.

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

He found the clock tower as easily as he did the time he tried to beg for help in curing his friends after Vlad made them sick. The door was already half open, so he did not have the satisfaction of knocking it aside or kicking it down.

Instead he only had the constant ticking of the massive gears inside the tower. The ticking that was in perfect sync with that awful grinding in his chest, the uncomfortable twinge under his knuckles as if something far too large had been crammed under the joints. As if he was part of it. “Clockwork!” Was it a furious bark, or more of a pitiful mewl? He couldn’t tell over how loud everything felt.

Red eyes loomed over him, sudden and unexpected.

Nothing. Clockwork did not speak. Danny couldn’t force another word out of his throat, even though he wanted to scream at him, to ask what gave him the right to slip awful machinery inside him- to control him.

Clockwork’s face twisted for only a moment, swiftly enough that he couldn’t quite tell if it had been in rage or some other emotion full of bared teeth. “You are in trouble again, I take it.”

His passive question ignited the anger simmering in his chest, confusion knocked aside with a furious certainty. “Because of you!”

“In part.” Clockwork looked away, but did not move out of range of any attack Danny would care to make. “I did not kill you when ordered to.”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about these- this- clockwork! Inside me!” He could have known- it was even the weird ghost’s name- how stupid was he?

“I understand. It is not an enjoyable experience, but one gets used to it, in time.”

No apology? Not even an explanation? “Why? I don’t- I don’t want this!” His fingers clenched and he pulled his arm back, prepared to take a swing. Instead of taking it his elbow made an awful crunch and froze, just as useless as his hand had been before.

Clockwork came close, reaching for his arm but he flew back, eyes burning in anger. “Don’t touch me! Not when you did it!”

The hooded ghost did not approach again, but did not back away either, shifting ages instead as if it would make a difference. “I understand your condition. Let me help, I will not harm you, and leaving your arm in that state will only make things worse in the future.”

He really wanted to shoot Clockwork right now. “No!”

Clockwork lowered his arm and sighed, eyes seeming dimmer than usual. “Very well. Just take care of yourself. If you awake with a key, guard it with everything you have.”

Still nothing useful from the bizarre ghost, just what sounded like threats. “I was stupid to think you were kind.” Danny spat as he backed away. He had to find some other way to fix this, a way to get a jump on this jerk of a ghost.

“I understand the pain you are going through. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.”

Danny left. He didn’t want to hear anything else. Didn’t want to feel how in sync all the weird little movements inside him were as he listened to seconds tick by. He hated how it smothered his anger and almost seemed to comfort him while he felt awful little metal disks clicking in his limbs. He couldn’t be here, he wouldn’t. He’d come back with friends and make him undo it.

---------

“You always complain you are lonely, Time Master. Be grateful.”

“I will not.”

“Pardon? Did you say you did not want your clock wound? That is what it sounded like, Clockwork. Did I mishear you?”

A low rumble that died into nothing but the constant beat of seconds. “Thank you.”

“Better. It’s difficult for an antique like yourself to get anything done all wound down like this, after all.”

Clockwork could only grit his teeth and refuse to look at his tormentor, the holder of a key he could not function without. “You will not take his key.”

“Of course we will. No reason for a pair of clocks to hold them. It is not as if he could wind himself.”

Perhaps not himself. Yet they could help one another. If only he had not lost his. In only he hadn’t entrusted it to traitors who claimed to work for ‘order’

[insertdisc5]

Hi!! I wanted to ask, in celebration of Deltarune CH. 2, do you have any updated thoughts and head canons about the game?? Like, y'know, similar to a previous ask about Kris in your Deltarune tag? Thanks!

thoughts on kris part 2 i guess???? (part 1 from ch1 here lol)

spoilers for deltarune like woah. this wont be kris focused just random thoughts on everything. thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk

not that many thoughts for this chapter tbh! EDIT LOL: this was a lie i have a lot of thoughts

-just in general i feel like the player isn't the only one controlling kris... like yes the player forced kris to do what happened in the snowgrave route but AT THE SAME TIME idk it feels like there's someone else too. just because of the terrifying voice i suppose. and also the jerky movement kris does every time they get their soul out? unless there's another reason for it... maybe getting your soul out means you walk weird lol

-BUT ALSO i feel like kris is 100% in control when they create fountains. idk it just makes sense kris would create them. to create another world, a better world, A WORLD WHERE THEIR BROTHER IS HERE PERHAPS? i do wonder why they get their soul out then though. i'm all for it sweetie! do whatever! i support you!

-(i am and will be playing deltarune with only kris' best interests in mind. i will not hurt anyone unless kris wants me to. dont worry my little meow meow im on your side! talk to me! no? okay ill stay under the sink its fine)

-speaking of asriel. SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER (starts crying) V-VACATION COLLEGE WHEN

-kris misses their brother so much it's so sad. if you make kris steal 5$ from asriel they take it "reluctantly"? talking to asriel online so often even alphys knows?? the google search?? GOING INTO ASRIEL'S GOOGLE SEARCH ROOM WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED BECAUSE THEY'RE CONVINCED THEY ALREADY KNOW WHATS IN THERE? THAT ONE IS LESS OF A MISSING THING BUT IM LIKE OH MY GOD

-the city walk with susie at the end makes it clear to me that kris really values susie's friendship... kris even sits with her if you spend long enough near the lake like aaaaah ;_;

-and even in snowgrave you spend your last acts with the final boss calling for your friends like YES there's a way bigger creepy aspect to this (kris as more of a Leader who Commands and commands their subjects to come) but still :'0 (and then noelle answers oh my god noelle im so sorry for the trauma)

-berdly. listen. listen. listen. liste

-berdly sucks but [berdly hurts his arm in the battle against queen if you don't save him because he doesnt want to hurt you] [berdly realizing smg's wrong in snowgrave and immediately taking steps to save noelle] berdly is my little crumb nugget. i will protect him.

-noelle. noelle. girlboss!

-like ooooh listen. hearing about the genocide path for undertale. made me go "that is SO COOL. i HAVE to experience it myself this is great. hehehe killing time" and like no regrets. i was fully enjoying the experience knowing i was an awful person. SNOWGRAVE THOUGH. i will never try this myself its too fucked up. casually grooming your childhood friend to murder people <3 and also acting like a weird stalker towards her <3 stockholm syndrome speedrun i will get all the info i can about this but i will never do this myself

-people remarking the kris/player>noelle relationship is similar to the relationship between player>chara in genocide path is like yes. chefs kiss. don't worry we just are making you stronger and everything will be fine "you made me kill my friend? and for what?" this is fine sweetie don't worry about it!!!!!!

-like the amount of details added to snowgrave, like if you equip noelle's watch she notices later? and her battle animations change as time goes on, she gets an ice shield and stops sighing in relief after battle? oh my god? oh my god.

-(berdly is not awake.) JUST KILL ME RIGHT HERE I HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT BERDLY NOT BEING AWAKE!!!!!

-also why didnt he turn into dust. so many possible reasons. is magic a thing in the normal world and perhaps no magic means no dust (theres graves). maybe he isnt dead. maybe hes braindead. maybe he'll come back. either way that boy is now in the closet big enough to put someone in

-also dess' name probably being december AND THATS WHY NOELLE LOST THE SPELLING BEE?!?!??! FUCK ME UP!!!!! JUST FUCK ME UP!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

-also so many good pixel art this chapter. too many? i didnt need pixel art of cardboard noelle falling on the statue. like thank you but please. please it hurts my game artist brain.

-the expressions in this chapter were also top notch. all the unsettling noelle expressions like (i fall over face first)

-i threw away the ball of junk (which i already tried in ch1) and this time the game was like "ARE YOU SURE BC THIS IS A BAD IDEA" and kris felt bitter :'( (it deletes all your items in the dark world)

-i uh fucked up and skipped the susie+noelle scene bc listen last time ralsei mentionned seeing what susie is doing we missed some PRIMO LORE. turns out it just makes you skip the scene and you dont get anything new. welp

-speaking of ralsei well you know. he exists. but im stuck on him going "i just wonder what being ralsei-like even is...?" ralsei my dude there's so much i could say about this. do you feel like you can't be ralsei-like because you feel like you have to be asriel-like

-but also that makes no sense bc susie hasnt even mentioned ralsei looks like asriel. and i cant imagine asriel being so meek. so WHAT GIVES

-ralsei as kris’ “i wish i was a monster just like my bro and family and i’d look like asriel but with red horns [THE HALLOWEEN COSTUME] and my name would be something cool like ralsei instead of a boring human name like kris and im sweet and cute because thats how i act with asriel because ASRIEL MADE ME” theory because that would be cute.

-ASRIEL GOING TO THE CHURCH TO CONFESS HIS "SINS" WHEN "SINS" AREN'T A THING IN THE ANGEL BELIEF LIKE I KNOW THIS INTERACTION WAS TREATED AS A JOKE BUT WHAT THE FUCK ASRIEL?

-kris definitely has a connection with the big red door in the city, judging by what the kids say they probably went there... i feel like this place's dark world will be the Final Dungeon you KNOW some shit happened there. also the sounds you hear when you go there is the phone dark world call's sound slowed down? AND AFTER SNOWGRAVE APPARENTLY YOU CANT HEAR IT ANYMORE? HUWAH?

-speaking of songs the songs were all so good, My Castle Town rules, the berdly snowgrave music is stuck in my head, flashback is uwah wuahah, Until Next Time is so good, AND ALSO A FRIEND NOTICED THE DARK WORLD CITY THEME IS JUST tHE SONG 74 (MOST NOTICEABLE WITH THE SNOWGRAVE VERSION)?????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN????? it might be just "hey its just reuse" BUT MR FOX YOU KNOW WE'RE GONNA READ INTO THIS IS NOELLE THE ONE SINGING IDK BRO!!!!!!!!!!

-asgore dreemurr fired from the force what happun!!!!! game theory is that asgore is related to dess' death/disappearance but eh who knows

-you start the chapter at lvl2 and get to lvl3 after the final boss, a friend mentioned this is probably because we destroyed a world and im :0

-to go back to kris it's still so interesting to figure out who they are based on how they act/people mention them. like kris shaking the ferris wheel car? yeah makes sense i can imagine a pranking kid do this. kris' dance? yeah thats a little silly but i can buy it. doing cool anime poses? well i dunno this doesnt line up PERFECTLY but sure. BUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN SNOWGRAVE... especially >proceed like that is such a weird thing that i can't imagine them doing, but i can't completely see the "player" doing either (compare with going to sans -which kris doesnt know- and going "SANS!" because of course the player would know sans), like THATS one of the reasons i feel like there's someone else in there. the weird robotic merciless actions. if im going super meta it feels like there'd be someone else like writing the choices into existence for us to pick you know? gaster probably? god i need to read more gaster theories i completely sidestepped the gaster shit bc i wasnt interested. anyway just spitballing

-(looks at big shot guy) please dont make him the next tumblr guy i beg you

-obligatory "queen was great" mention if only because this part made me laugh a little bit too hard

that was a lot. thank you for letting me talk

[homoose]

TMSIDK: A Timeline

Several people have asked me about the timeline of events for TMSIDK! Here is the breakdown of the real-life timeline (I moved everything back two years bc corona lmao). Canonically, the entire series takes place post series finale, with the omission of the Je*d arc from season 14. I will continue to add to this as more one-shots are added. I cannot thank you enough for your support for this series! ♥️ moose

♤ indicates smut

♖ indicates angst

TMSIDK part I - end of September 2018

TMSIDK part II - early October 2018

TMSIDK part III - mid-October 2018

TMSIDK part IV - late October/November 2018

TMSIDK part V - early November 2018

TMSIDK part VI - mid-November 2018

TMSIDK part VII ♖ - mid-January 2019

TMSIDK part VIII ♖ - late January 2019

TMSIDK part IX ♖ - early February 2019

TMSIDK part X - early March 2019

LHALC part I - early March 2019

Only the Best for Jeremy - late March 2019

LHALC part II - March/April 2019

You Know Better ♤ - early May 2019

The Interesting Electronic ♤ - May/June 2019

TMSIDK epilogue - late June 2019

meeting Penelope blurb - late June 2019

dry ass curls blurb - late June 2019

LHALC part III - late June/early July 2019

LHALC part IV - July 2019

A Timely Reminder ♤ - July 2019

LHALC part V - August 2019

deleted scene 1 - August 2019

Lighthouse - November 2019

Make a Memory ♤ - November 2019

sticky notes blurb - November 2019

The First of Many - December 2019

LHALC part VI ♖ - mid January 2020

LHALC part VII - late January 2020

snow day blurb ♤ - late February 2020

LHALC part VIII - February/March 2020

cravings blurb - March 2020

Weird is Good - April 2020

LHALC part IX - July 2020

Love Like This ♤ - July 2020

Wishes Do Come True ♤ - July 2020

LHALC part X - August/September 2020

A Little Messy ♤ - early August 2020

deleted scene 2 ♖ - late August/September 2020

deleted scene 3 - early September 2020

LHALC epilogue - early October 2020

pre-k Halloween blurb - late October 2020

[jo-harrington]

jo-harrington's masterlist

The Store Manager Verse - Complete Pairing: Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader

Series Masterlist

Some Unrelated SM-Verse Blurb

You'll Be In My Heart - (Submission for Corroded Coffin Fest)

SMVerse Eddie Commission by @raccoonboywrites

Store Manager Verse Moodboard - Gift from @tvserie-s-world

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story - Complete Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader, Steve Harrington x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Freaky Friday "Poster" Art - by @dr-aculaaa

Freaky Friday Eddie - Gift from @br0ck-eddie, by @inflomora-art

As Above, So Below - In Progress (Van Helsing, 2004 x Soulmate AU) Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Series Masterlist

Under the Covers - (Submission for Corroded Coffin Fest)

Eddie and Knight Moodboard - Gift from @sidereustales

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - In Progress Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

A Study Date - (Submission for Carol's The Boy is Mine event)

Sex, Drugs, & Rock n Roll - (Submission for Corroded Coffin Fest)

2024 Corroded Coffin Fest - Complete Submission Masterlist

2024 CCFest Halloween - Complete Submission Masterlist

2024 CCFest Black Friday - Complete A Very Corroded Black Friday - SMVerse Crossover

"Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter." - Yoda, Star Wars Episode V, The Empire Strikes Back

Eddie Munson One-Shots

Loving Eddie - Grim Reaper!EddiexReader Blurb

Magnificum et Horribilis - Angsty Older!EddiexReader Blurb

Ex Nihilo - Hurt/Comfort EddiexReader Blurb

Substratum - Romantic Cannibalism Kas!EddiexReader *Dead Dove*

Unsolved - Eddie x Supernatural!Reader

Lack of Faith - Eddie Munson x Star Wars Blurb

Eddie Universe - A Modern Steddie Story

A weird thing where we rescue Eddie. - Another theoretical story.

A thing where Eddie cheers us up at Christmas.

A thing where we meet Eddie at a funeral.

A thing where Eddie is a Cemetery Tour Guide.

Pinprick - An offshoot of Gutterballs by @dr-aculaaa

Insoucient - Eddie x Reader Hurt/Comfort

Best Spring Break Ever - Eddie Munson x Spring Break 1986 AU

Pwdre Ser - Eddie Munson Monsterfucking Fantasy

Strawberry Shortcake - Eddie Munson x Reader Hurt/Comfort Meet-ish Cute-ish

Breadsticks - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Fluffy Hurt/Comfort Pick Me Up

Become What You Were Meant To Be - Eddie Munson x Star Wars; Birthday Fic for Abi

Chuck - Eddie Psychological Torture Experiment; Birthday Fic for Meg

Blueberry Muffin - Eddie Munson x Reader Hurt/Comfort

Random Eddie Munson/Stranger Things Headcanons

Headcanons Part 1 Headcanons Part 2 Headcanons Part 3 Headcanons Part 4 Headcanons Part 5 Eddie Munson is a Libra/Scorpio Cusp Eddie Munson Silly Allergy Eddie listens to his friends

Misc. Writing

Meg’s Bday Request - Normies Stay Out

Sequel to Meg's Bday Request - Normies Stay Out

Give and Take - Steve HarringtonxReader

Eddie Munson’s Day Off - Steve Harrington x OC; Birthday Fic for Drac

[purplekiwis]

When Y/N applied to study at the art school located in Golden Hills, a small city hidden among the mountains, blessed by a beautiful coastal line that is known to captivate large amounts of turists all year around, she would’ve never guessed that she would find herself willingly stepping into a subculture in which the limits are as blurry as the feelings she shares for Harry. The boy with long hair, dark clothes and a very messy heart.

**

Listen to the Damaged Goods Spotify Playlist: Here

Genre: Enemies to Lovers | College AU

Warnings: Smut*, Cursing, Alcohol & Drug Use, Borderline Abusive Behavior

Read This:

• This story will mention actions that may be considered as borderline abusive, such as public humiliation and verbal abuse. If you’re sensitive to any of these subjects I advise you not to read it.

• Every character mentioned in this story is a legal and consenting adult.

• Although the events narrated are completely fictional, they’re inspired by real college traditions that I’ve experienced myself. I later realized that understanding these traditions may be a little challenging if you’re not already familiar with them, so if you’re curious or want to know more about them feel free to ask.

Chapter I - Golden Hills (11/07) Goodbyes are bittersweet... and this school is already a bit weird, isn’t it?

Chapter II - The Rabbit Hole (13/07) The school is still weird, but now there’s a inconsiderate boy with a bad temper.

Chapter III - Mouthful of Pride (15/07) You've got a problem holding your tongue, and a strong hate for flavored syrup.

Chapter IV - Cards On The Table ( 21/07) Energy drinks lead to bold moves and a disastrous Truth or Dare game.

Chapter V - Strike One* (30/07) Late night drives and curious hands, but it was just a one time slip right?

Chapter VI - The Love Drug (21/08) A magic pill takes you on scenic trip to nowhere, then you wake up on a different side of the bed.

Chapter VII - Hold the Line*

Part 1 (31/08) Jealousy looks terrible on you, and those fishing boots sure are no better.

Part 2* (06/09) Bull shots, frat parties and a boy that won't hesitate to drop to his knees for you.

Chapter VIII - Why Are You Here? (21/11) Emergency school encounters lead to a knock on your door at 2AM.

Chapter IX - Sweet and Sour* (12/01) Who would've guessed that a simple cuddle sesh could lead to such a splashy mess?

Chapter X - Fake Blood and Understandings (10/02) Stolen kisses, creepy costumes and a Halloween party that leaves you antsy for all the wrong reasons.

Chapter XI - Silly Love Songs* (10/04) How is it that a ruined date could end so happily?

Chapter XII - The Portrait* (03/06) Where secrecy or mystery begins, vice or roguery is not far off.

Chapter XIII - A Truth Too Deep To Deny (22/07) You’ve got a one-track mind, too bad it only comes alive in the nighttime.

[feeling-weirdy]

**my scarletvision master list**

A giant list of all the drabbles I have written in chronological order for anyone who would like to read from start to finish.  If people are interested in becoming notified whenever I post something, please follow my AO3. 

Please feel free to send in prompts for anything you would like to see added to this list. 

Age of Ultron to Civil War

A Thing Isn’t Beautiful Because... - prompt; “right before or after Vision saves Wanda”; Overwhelmed with emotions, Wanda is filled with grief by the loss of her brother.  Vision tries to help her figure out a way to deal with the loss.

Uncertain, yet Intentional - prompt; The moment before his ‘I did intend to come in here’ line in episode 8 of WV

Silent Tears - prompt; Wanda really lets herself cry for the first time since Pietro’s death and Vision does his best to comfort her.

Unpleasant Dreams - prompt; Wanda has a nightmare and Vision goes in to check on her to see if she’s alright.

Do Better - prompt;  Vision is unable to save everyone in a disaster which helps him learn a very hard lesson.

Never Again - prompt;  Wanda POV; Vision and Wanda watch sitcoms and Wanda gets distracted

Bugging Out - prompt; “Holy fucking guacamole!”; A routine update goes awry.

Vis, We Talked About This - prompt; “Viz, we talked about this”; Vision tries to distract Wanda without seeming too pushy.

Your Electrifying Touch - Wanda POV; Unable to keep her thoughts contained, Wanda slips up but has to find a way to keep herself back on track.

An Unexpected Surprise - prompt; Vision comes home from a tough mission to find Wanda curled up in his bed.

Practice Makes Perfect - prompt; Vision and Wanda practice in an attempt to help get Wanda’s powers under control.

Dancing Out of Tune - prompt; Vision walks in on Wanda listening to Pietro’s favorite genre and throws him off guard.

Striking Thirteen - prompt; a moment where feelings develop; Wanda can’t seem to fall asleep and looks to Vision for help.

Happy Birthday...? - prompt; Vision gets a present from Wanda for his first "birthday"

Neverending Flow - prompt; Wanda gets a nosebleed

While No One is Watching - prompt; The gang starts dancing, but disappears once uncomfortableness starts to set in once the android and witch start to get close to one another.

Heart Over Duty - prompt; What else makes Vision cry?

Overrated - prompt; “I always thought Mr Darcy was overrated”; Vision’s feelings can no longer be kept to himself.  A novel Wanda suggests causes him to blurt out his confession.

Freezing Circuits - prompt; “Vision tries ice cream” 

An Accidental Moment - prompt; pre CW; While watching television together, Wanda initiates the next step in their relationship.

Civil War to Infinity War

Safe and Sound - prompt; songfic for Safe and Sound; After the destruction in Lagos, Wanda breaks down, leaving Vision to console her the best that he can. 

Distraction - prompt; Wanda POV; Wanda is overwhelmed by the Accords and is desperate for something else to focus on.  Vision is happy to oblige.

A Step Too Far - prompt; Vision offers pizza and an explanation for his actions in trying to keep Wanda safe inside the compound.

After the Storm - prompt; Vision arrives to see Wanda for the first time after the aftermath. 

The Little Green Monster - prompt; Vision becomes jealous of someone flirting with Wanda.

A Spark of Light - prompt; “we could be like sparks of light”; Vision attempts to talk Wanda into extending their little walks to something more substantial.

Can I Change Your Mind? - Vision is unable to tell Wanda goodbye and tries to get her to stay with him.

Three’s a Crowd - prompt; “love triangle between Vis, Wanda and Clint” 

Chicken Soup for the Soul - prompt; Wanda gets sick and Vision helps take care of her

And Life Will Always Be... - Wanda POV; Excited to meet up with Vision again, Wanda enters the hotel room hoping to get a head start but finds her plans are pushed to an instant halt.

Between the Lines - prompt; “that was an innuendo, wasn’t it?”; Vision struggles to understand why Wanda is acting so strangely.

Look My Way - Wanda POV; Tired of spending the afternoon alone, Wanda takes things into her own hands.

Cappuccino or Latte - prompt; “what’s the actual difference between a cappuccino and a latte?”; Vision attempts to make coffee despite his disadvantages.

Short and Sweet - Vision can no longer keep himself back from kissing Wanda.

All to Myself - prompt; Vision jealous of Wanda and Cap America’s friendship; The distance they have created has finally brought Vision to a breaking point.

Getting Caught - prompt;  Wanda and Vision get caught coming home late

Not Ostentatious, but True - prompt; “my love isn’t ostentatious, but it doesn’t make it any less true”; Vision becomes jealous of how others profess their love and he does his best to explain himself.

Purrfectly Happy - prompt; The first time Vision ever sees a cat 

By the River - prompt; UK shenanigans; Vision uses an anniversary as an excuse to create a new memory with something they had never tried before.

That One Thing - prompt; Vision and Wanda discuss their future.

To Grow Old In, V - Vision worries about whether or not his next move is too grand, but is determined to move to the next step regardless.

One Last Moment - prompt; “one last moment”; Vision and Wanda talk about their options should Wakanda fail to disconnect the Mind Stone.

Wandavision sitcom AU

Love Me Tender - Vision tries to make a special night for Wanda, hoping to make up for the Mr. Hart fiasco.

Support - prompt; Vision offers his assistance as Wanda struggles with her pregnancy.

Cravings - prompt; Wanda’s weird pregnancy cravings; Vision struggles in the kitchen while trying to keep up with her cravings.

Perfectly Molded - Wanda POV; prompt; Vision wearing gray sweatpants.  That’s pretty much it.

Back to Bed - A pregnant Wanda is sick and Vision struggles to take care of her.

Prenatal Upset - prompt; A pregnant Wanda doesn’t feel sexy and Vision is more than happy to prove otherwise. 

Melting in the Rain - prompt;  Wanda goes into labor and is cool as a cucumber leaving Vision to panic alone.

Nerves of Steel - prompt; Vision gets so caught up in himself that he phases through a piece of furniture and doesn’t even notice 

Painting for Mom - prompt; sweet dad!Vision moment; The boys craft gifts for Mother’s Day.

Yellow Brick Road - prompt; Vision and Wanda help the boys go Trick-or-Treating

The End of the Road - prompt; part 2 to Yellow Brick Road

Movie Night: Titanic - prompt; the family watching Titanic

Peace and Quiet Shattered - prompt; The twins attempt to make a little robot and are having trouble until Vision steps in and fixes it with ease.

Halloween Spooks - prompt; Vision getting scared by Halloween animatronics

Unable to Compute - prompt; Tommy and Billy do something stupid and Vision has a hard time understanding why

post Wandavision

A World Without Color - A series of prompts following White!Vision as he learns more about who he was so that he can move forward.

post Infinity War AU

Make it Real -  A series of one-shots, and possible story, following the traumatic events of Infinity War in an alternate universe where Wanda and Vision are alive and traumatized.

Random AUs

Bidding for Attention -  Tony has a bachelor auction and Hope Van Dyne bids on Vision to upset her dad for fun and then Hope and Vision hit it off and keep hanging out which makes Wanda realize her feelings for him have changed.

Pt 1

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep33 S4 pt 2: The Best Storyboarder Came Back Just so They Could Draw Tristan Getting Hit in the Nuts

OK lets just get to the good stuff.

God bless you, storyboarder.

(read more under the cut)

The team has entered the Atlantis lair of Dartz, which is also accessible through Paradius in San Fransisco, but youknow...we don’t have magic so it’s not like we could’ve skipped like 10 minutes and just done that instead of the helicopter escape, the Military moment, and the ride through a hurricane.

Oh wait, we do have magic, that’s right...well...for now, pretend we don’t.

Enjoy the snakes.

Strangely, Kaiba does not feel comfortable with the snakes, when snakes really just a smaller and cuter dragon. I love snakes. Never owned one...but I trust em.

Dartz has the Yugioh “old guy” aesthetic of “We just really like yellowed sandstone”

I get that they want this place (and also Yami’s house) to look like a tomb so there won’t be any paint on the wall but this is just a pet peeve of mine that Ancient times freakin loved garish colors on the wall in layers and layers of patterns and yet in fiction we never show that.

But...it doesn’t go with the vibe. I’ll let it go because it would absolutely ruin the vibe to have a bunch of swirly stuff in neon orange and green.

Before we have a chance to grab a step stool and just kinda yoink Yugi Muto, Dartz shows up, and this shot happens.

I couldn’t not grab a cap of that. I mean...look at it. It is SO HARD to foreshorten hands so it looks right and then bam they just did that. It’s just...

...I’ve been breaking down foreshortening in Yugioh shots for a while now trying to figure out why when I do it, it looks like a busted huge hand, but when they do it, it looks really good, and I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s more than just stacking but also...the composition?

You can’t really look at this picture as a whole. The hand is such a strong focal point that you must start there, and then follow down the arm to the face. I think when I do these foreshortening shots I make the hand the same weight as the face, and that’s my downfall. You gotta let the composition force the viewer to slow down and take time in order for the optical illusion to happen...maybe? I’m like over 30 now, you’d think I’d figure this out by now.

Whatever, that’s another post.

So like...what happened to those two people who used to be there????

And now prepare thyself for my lazy math. I know this math is bad. For people out there who feel like working out the geometric growth and calculate just how many souls Dartz slurps up--feel free to tell me. If I like the explanation, I will adjust the Death Count to match it. It’s just too 2020 for me to do more than multiplication at the moment.

Did I count how many people would have existed 10,000 years ago? no. Did I account for plagues? No. Like this math of 4 a day is bad...but eh it’s all I got right now in my mental ammunition.

Something that we did think about was...

Why not slurp up the Pharaoh soul when Yami was still alive? Like we assume the puzzle existed in the past but like...did Yami not get superpowered until Yugi woke him up? Was he in fact useless until he got a little bit of a battery charge during Season Zero when he was dumping people off of bell towers?

And like I get not knowing about the underground Ishtars, and not being able to get a hold of Shadi because Shadi is a lazy ghost, but Bakura was RIGHT THERE. You can’t munch up Pegasus off screen and then say “eh but Bakura’s kinda low tier” we know for a fact that Bakura is not...so like...there must have been some copyright situation where they couldn’t use certain characters. This is a filler arc--but it would have been nice to have at least some explanation as to why it took Dartz so long to finally murder the hell out of Pharaoh.

Which is me expecting way too much out of this show. Just something I was really hoping would get addressed but leave it for the headcanon.

It’s at this point that Mokuba realized he’s standing on top of people.

A crypt made out of human souls! Crazy, usually we’re in a crypt made out of one single human soul....and both of these crypts have Yugi in it.

In Raphael’s storyline, he’s been busy just cleaning up after everyone else. It’s supposed to come off as very serious but I was totally busting up when he’s just dropping bodies into the back of this jeep.

And in the Kaiba Corp plotline, Roland is anxiously wondering if he should be a Dad and save the kids or if he should be a dog and stay in the plane.

He stays in the plane.

Strangely this was the right call. (And this is why Roland has never died)

So they start throwing around cards, as you do, and Dartz puts down his Orichalcos, has he does, when suddenly...they started seeing stuff again. Can’t have a single card game without it.

So the Orichalcos is just a backstory device? For reals?

Something I alluded to quite a few episodes back with Valon was just...wondering why the hell the Orichalcos crew had so much freakin magic as to make all these visions during duels. Turns out...it’s just a thing to occasionally trip on Oricalchos juice. I’m not sure why we never had a vision with Mai, Weevil, Rex, or Gurimo, but at least we now know that Raphael and Valon weren’t as magical as I thought they were.

So we’re in like...outer space. Kind of the last place you’d expect out of ancient Atlantis and Dartz isn’t having ANY OF IT.

And honestly that makes sense. Imagine giving someone 10,000 years ago the run down on outer space. They’d freak. They’d definitely think you’re talking about demons.

If space is an elaborate analogy, we don’t know that yet. For how this is presented, it’s just an old man hootin and hollerin about how much space sucks, and I love that.

PS how anime is this shot of the earth behind the orichalcos symbol and the dude in the middle with the ass length blue hair--really damn anime, right?

Like at least one of you has this wall hanging, right?

For those that are too tired to look it up, Pangea was 280-230 million years ago.

THAT REALLY CHANGES MY MATH.

AND I’M TOO TIRED.

So my thoughts are...either the math is wrong and I’ll fix it eventually in post, depending on my mood come next Wednesday, OR...humanity was deleted and then came back later??? (because the dawn of mankind was 7 million years ago)

OR...

They just felt like drawing Pangea 10 million years ago. Maybe that’s all. Maybe I don’t have to fix anything. I dunno.

Maybe this isn’t Earth.

Maybe Yugioh Earth never had Loma Preita because it isn’t actually Earth. And, like a Final Fantasy situation, is a second planet on a parallel plane of our own?

Either way, I’m not redoing the math because I actually don’t know how to change it anymore. I’m v undecided of the timeline now......maybe the next episode will tell us more? (I doubt this very much)

RIP deathcount.

Yo Atlantis!

I have a lot of questions!

About Atlantis!

And the purpose of the aqueduct going the wrong direction.

Is that in fact the poop shoot?

But wtv it looks neat.

So anyway, that’s all for now, I hope you enjoyed my bad math, and I hope you enjoy your Halloween. Ours is a whole lot of nothing. I’ll be watching lots of Phasmaphobia streams while eating Butterfingers that I legally can’t give to children because it’s an epidemic (butterfingers is like the last candy that my old 30 yo ass can handle without passing out or gagging. Weird how getting older makes me hate all the good things I couldn’t eat when I was younger because I was too young to be allowed to eat them.) and that’s about it.

WHY did Halloween finally fall on a Saturday DURING an epidemic? I only get so many Saturday Halloweens in my youth...just why.

(and here’s a link to read these in chrono order)