#I really tried to make this readable but I also just needed to get this out of my system so sorry about the spelling and structure

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| |Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount?

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

 Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms, trying to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulders, his hold on your firm. His touch keeps you grounded. You glance back to the wall, frowning when the wood burns and char. Your finger digs into the fabric of his coat as the hotel burns around you.

You hold his gaze, trying to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No,” he says, his eyes squint into a glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

Alastor smoothens the feathers on your hair. You shake your head. “Not a single feather out of place. Thank you, my deerest.”

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x y/n #the radio demon #radio demon

[void-chara]

@mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @irrealisms !! you had lots of prompt ideas for writing, but not for art, so i hope you're happy with eclipse federation misery and agony compilation, plus song lyrics

lyric credits: Temporary - Chase Petra / Stranger - The Mechanisms / Easier - The Crane Wives (appears four times) / Two Birds - Regina Spektor / Little Soldiers - The Crane Wives (appears twice) / Heretic Pride - The Mountain Goats

feel free to ask if you want me to adjust some text to make it more readable or something, i think it looks fine but i know different peoples eyes and devices are different, and if i had more time i would definitely have spent more time messing with the colors on everything

speaking. of time. im really sorry i took so long ._. i kind of suck at estimating how long projects will take and how much time i have. thanks for being so patient!!

oh, also, some lyrics and drawings have story reasons for being grouped together, and some went where they looked good. uh. ideally id make sure everything had reason for its location, but this is one area where i did correctly estimate my time, instead of getting stuck in the planning phase.

also in the process of typing all this ive already gone back twice to change stuff in the images and re-add them to the post lol

OH also!! the part where vitalasy jumps off to his death! is as far as i can tell NOT canon accurate!! all the footage shows him jumping off the prison, since thats where he respawns. i didnt think to check this until after id already drawn most of the stuff, and already had the prison drawn, and i didnt want to reorganize the drawing. im telling myself that we only see a few of the later deaths and so theoretically the first one could have been jumping off a grassy ledge somewhere but its still bothering me and i needed to mention it.

anyway yeah really hope you like it i tried some new stuff with this one im not sure how well it turned out and thanks again for being so patient!!

EDITING TO ADD SOME MORE WORDS!!! i love talking about my art! so first, all the text on signs and stuff i did go back and look at videos and vods to make sure was entirely accurate, and i wrote all the words entirely by myself. for the lyrics and other text(death message and DELIVERANCE), i used a text tool first to make sure the words would be neat and where i needed them, and then traced over that on a new layer and deleted the original text layer. my handwritting fucking sucks always no matter what, this was a very necessary step. also! this is officially the first thing i have drawn entirely on my phone, rather than on my ipad like i used to do! also i dont use a stylus of any type i just draw with my finger lol.

#eclipse federation #vitalasy #princezam #itzsubz #mcyt #edited to add EVEN MORE WORDS below the cut. i am the yapper #lifesteal smp #chara makes things #<-somehow both tags i originally forgot. #EDITING AGIN. third edit. first was extra text second was extra tags this is for a critical spelling error(used a - instead of a / as the #divider between two songs by accident)

[londonspirit]

NYCC Rant

I am soo pissed on behalf of our beautiful cast!

I mean, they KNEW they couldn't talk about their amazing show (and mind you, I TOTALLY support the strike, no questions asked!) but whoever thought playing a stupid game for the WHOLE FUCKING HOUR needs to be given a VERY stern talking to!!!

You have six amazing actors on that stage, all with a shitload of life under their belts (sorry, Con *cackles*) - you could've let them talk about ANYTHING, could've asked about basically EVERYTHING, and they could've still adhered to the strike rules and made it a fun panel!!! (Somehow this now feels like the con itself didn't trust that they would actually do this which makes me even more mad!!! They've been on the lines, they KNOW what can and can't go, no matter how badly they WANT to talk about OFMD! GEEZ!)

But you go and have them play a stupid game, where two of them barely understood a thing (and you didn't do jack shit about it), the questions were silly and boring (which Rhys actually pointed about because that man was (rightfully) ANNOYED AS FUCK!) and for those of us at home some answers weren't even readable because the camera person didn't know where to go first.

They all TRIED so hard to play along but it was just sooo embarrassing to watch, and I feel so soo sorry for everyone, the amazing cast on stage and the people in the audience. (Even worse for poor Matt to have his first convention be like THIS!) (Yes, i am VERY mad at the wealthy studio assholes who are not able to see that paying their artists a living wage would benefit EVERYONE *grrrrrr*)

There could've been sooo many other ways to run this panel and sadly they really fucked it up. (Right now watching DT who's just rambling along about pizza and bagels, audio books, his dogs and all the NOT SAG things he'd done, (while adhering to the rules!) which is adorable but also a very good example as to how to do SO MUCH BETTER!!! (but then again, that moderator was PREPARED!)

So yeah, that was a terrible disaster and an utter train wreck, and I can only hope every other con after this (while the strike's still ongoing) does better - for the sake of the cast AND the audience!!! NOBODY deserves this!!! /rant end

Please understand I am NOT mad at ANYONE striking - they are NOT at fault! It's the fucking greedy studio bosses who think they can get away with their sleazy shit!!! But I am sad that the convention people weren't able to come up with something less humiliating for a cast that deserve the fucking WORLD!!!

#personal #nycc 2023 #ofmd #our flag means death #im just soo mad at the con people for making this such a horrible experience for everyone (or most of them from what I can see) #my mood has been terrible all week (aside from Thursday) #and right now I wanna punch people! #i was soo looking forward to this and it was the most insane disaster since that MS/JA/JP Nerd HQ panel way back when #basically ruined my entire day #so yeah

[sciderman]

Hiii I love your work & Just genuinely Curious. If you got to make a Deadpool movie, Fox backing you up and all. What would it be like or about? Would it be an original story or adapt certain storylines like how Andrew & Tobey did with Spidey? Any specific actor in mind for Wade? Idk just again curious how a Sci made DP film would be

oouugh... my dream deadpool movie is honestly the first deadpool movie but with like. some changes. not even major changes. even ryan can stay. i can't really think of anyone i'd like to replace him – i've always been kind of bad at fan casts - my imagined wade wilson is so specific, i don't think there are any actors that could come close, no sir. i think i'd do the origin - as is - i kind of like the flipping from present to past motif they have – i'd probably keep more scenes they had in the script in the final film that they wound up cutting – i've revolved it in my head, really, how i'd fix that first deadpool movie, and really - first, i'd keep this scene in:

and i'd shift the ending so that wade just... doesn't get the girl at the end. vanessa walks away. because he's become something else. and actually, a guy like deadpool shouldn't get the girl. he saves her, he saves the day, but actually – becoming deadpool, and becoming so wantonly violent and you know, becoming the exact kind of killing machine he did not want to be – 

oy.

i feel like the film wanted to set up this theme that wade needs to be better than this. that he desires to be better. but when he becomes deadpool he spirals back into old violent habits because he deems himself unloveable and does everything in his power to make himself "loveable" (aka attractive) again for vanessa. but what he doesn't realise is that it's not his appearance that does that – it's his actions.

so i think my perfect deadpool movie would be that first deadpool movie, but committing to the theme that actually, just because wade was dealt a shitty hand doesn't mean he has to be a monster. and that his violence isn't something funny or romantic. and that he can change. instead of us seeing this guy who clearly wanted to escape violence... being pushed back into violence and what's worse, being rewarded for it.

it's such a weird, twisted moral attached to the first deadpool movie and i'm constantly thinking about it. i remember the first time i read the leaked script, back in like, 2012, i said: "it's so good, but dear god i hope they change the ending." and they didn't. they just did not. and so when i first saw the deadpool movie i was so thrilled but. when the credits rolled i kind of audibly sighed too. because wade shouldn't get that ending. not yet. not until he does the work.

i also would've given vanessa her powers. or i would've at least teased her powers. i think having it be a surprise that wade didn't know is a delight. save it for the sequel, but tease it. or, honestly – the original script kind of did tease it. like, it's very readable that vanessa could be a shapeshifter, in the original script. she's shapeshifter-coded.

i think i wouldn't do a deadpool movie without first doing it as an origin – the set-up is so important. i don't have any sort of grand plotline i'd do with wade. maybe i'd love to write a cable and deadpool movie – or an x-force movie – god, i want an x-force movie so bad. but honest to god, there's not really any plotlines i'm eager to adapt for the big screen. wade wilson has decidedly less interesting villains and storylines than spider-man has, unfortunately. like, sorry. all his villains kind of are stupid. they've really tried to give him villains but, dear god. the best villain he's ever been up against is his ex-wife. and i don't know, i don't think i particularly want to see shiklah in the movies. i think i'd much rather see grounded, personal stories with wade – ones that don't deal with monsters and supernatural beasts – but, with other mutants, i guess.

if i were to pitch a new fresh deadpool movie in the existing deadpool franchise, save for an x-force movie, i'd love to see wade being recruited as an x-chaperone, and having to look after all these mutant kids but him being completely out of his depth throughout, and they drag him on some huge "world-ending-stakes" adventure but actually, the personal stakes stay very small, and it's almost a ferris buellers day off affair but with more spandex. these kids with their powers run amok and wade's trying to wrangle them but is also whisked away in all the fun of it and is actually worse than they are when it comes to staying well-behaved. they take over the macy's parade... maybe logan swoops in to yank wade by the ear... other x-men cameos abound. that's a deadpool movie i'd love to see. if i were to make a fresh one, that would be it. ferris bueller's day off, but with more spandex.

#sci talks movies #deadpool #ask me about my agenda for making wade a chaperone at the x-mansion #not like that is the entire conceit of the deadpool tv-show pilot i've been hacking away at a glacial pace over this year #and not like coughcoughcough thosearemyplansforwade'sfuturein9319coughcoughcoughcou #i think it's where he belongs. and if i were to pitch a deadpool comic series it would be the same. i just want to see it. #not me planning for both wade and peter to wind up as teachers #my nefarious plans..

[foundry-fabrications]

Happy Halloween everyone! It is with immense pleasure and excitement that I present to you a labor of love, the long awaited rework of Flesh & Bone! Originally, I had intended to release this shortly after the absolutely stellar remake of Dead Space, but that obviously wasn't going to happen. So as to not repeat my last mistake with big projects and arbitrary deadlines, I took things nice and slow, took my time to give this work the true love and attention it deserved. Anything for my beloved Dead Space.

And I couldn't be more pleased with the result! Well, I can always be happier. There's always something I wish I could have added or done differently, but I won't dwell on that. "Don't let perfect be the enemy of done".  But it makes me so happy to see it in its full gorey glory after all this time. But that enough preamble, let's get into the changes from the original!

Being the result of a 3-week mad rush to release on time for Halloween, the original brew has a LOT of problems. I forgot a lot of details and made a lot of mistakes just by the nature of not having enough time to do it justice. Having had, what, 2 years, between now and then has given me a lot of time to hone my skills as a creator and figure out exactly what I wanted to do for the eventual rework.

The first and most obvious thing is the aesthetics. Flesh and Bone was the first time I ever tried to make a Homebrewery theme from scratch, so I had a LOT to learn in a very short timeframe. I got it most of the way there for what I wanted to do, but it still had a lot of issues, namely a lack of integrated stat blocks. Formatting was also just awful. I just couldn't get them to work quite right, and they always looked super off, so I elected for images instead. Since then, I've made my Xenomorph supplement which used that initial test as a starting point, and I was able to fix a lot of the issues I ran into. I also want to change the overall look of the theme itself. When I designed it, I was going for a design mix based on the Dead Space wiki and the holographic UI from the games themselves. The result was...not the most legible. I've taken a new approach with the rework, made everything MUCH more readable, and borrowed heavily from the aesthetics of the 2023 remake.

As for the contents themselves, turns out there were a bunch of really cool necromorph variants that I just completely forgot about like the Twitchers, those reanimator swarms from DS3, and the Ubermorph. With that last one in particular, I reworked the old Hunter into the Regenerator with Hunter and Ubermorph variants, like I have with the Slasher, Spitter, and now Twitcher. In general, most of the necromorph forms were in dire need of reworks up in one way or another, especially their descriptions. I pulled almost all of that text directly from the Dead Space wiki, and it showed real bad. Again, 3 weeks, all panic. All the descriptions have been rewritten to be more in line with my other writing.

I also removed that section at the beginning about the Markers. I originally included it to give context for the rest of the brew, and I just really wanted to talk about the Markers, but the more I looked at it that section honestly added very little to the rest of the brew that couldn't be done in other areas. And let's be real, the Markers are SO IMPORTANT to the Dead Space universe that they really need their own dedicated brew. So, I pulled that section out, and it will go in said dedicated brew another time.

And the final change is I actually included some form of boss necromorph this time! I hadn't planned to, but I started thinking more and more about it, and I was also asked by one of my lovely patrons about it, so I gave in and made stats for really the only Dead Space boss worth talking about: The Hive Mind. I actually had fun writing it, working out its abilities from both the original and the remake, as well as taking some creative liberties and giving it some fun new abilities as a result of it being a Nexus necromorph.

So that's everything! I hope this gruesome creation of mine brings you as much joy and terror as it has to me. Stay safe, stay spooky, don't forget to love each other, and m̵̧̈́ͅa̴̜͑̍ḳ̵̍ë̷͍͇́ ̶̖̾̏u̸̪̅͜s̷͙̟̓ ̷̬̩̒w̸͇͘h̶̠̳͆̽o̶̻̺͂̀l̴̛͍̦e̸̡̡͗. See you next time.

Enjoy my work? Consider leaving me a Tip or supporting me on Patreon! Patrons gain access to high quality PDFs for all of my content, weekly updates, early access, and more!

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#dungeons and dragons #5th edition #dnd #homebrew #5e #dnd 5e homebrew #5e dnd #dnd homebrew #dead space #body horrow cw #horror #body horror tw #blood #cw gore #necromorph #undead #monsters #tw dismemberment #tw body horror #tw horror

[mxrcjqckspnchqsc]

Hii i wanted to ask If you could also write for Steve and Nancy because i had a request where robin, Nancy and Steve (separately) comfort you after your best friend betrayed you and chose her other best friend over you for example how Cassie betrayed Maddy in Euphoria and that it really hurt and how they would support after when you're still not over it after 2 years

Still Hurts

A/N: hmmmm I'll write for them just this once since you included Robin in the requesttt(but if I were to add Steve and Nancy to the masterlist, would yall like that or?) Anwaysss PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING GUYS I'M GETTING BORED

Also sorry this took like five hundred years but it's here now!

Summary: Read request above!

Steve Harrington

Steve never really knew how to comfort people since there was always no one there for comfort him when he was young but having real friends changed that, you changed that.

So when he found you crying over a polaroid of you and your ex-best friend, he rushed to your side and hugged you while you sobbed harder.

He would whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you everything would be okay despite you disagreeing.

"So stupid, so stupid." You cry as you stared at the polaroid of you two, how happy you looked and how well she faked it. Made you burn inside, how could anyone do this to someone else? Someone else that cared about them deeply and stab them in the back knowing the scar never seems to fade.

"It's not stupid," Steve whispers in your ear. Your cries and his whispers filled the room, it was silence everywhere else and that did not make you feel better. "I just miss her so much," you cried, even harder when you remembered the memories the two of you shared.

"And that's perfectly normal, alright?" Steve kissed the crown of your head as he reassured you. "It's gonna be okay, I just need you to believe that."

Nancy Wheeler

Nancy isn't the best at comforting people, well she wasn't until she met you. She tries so hard to be better at it when she met you, it became a goal. But when she saw you in tears in your living room, she almost broke down herself, it broke her heart seeing you this upset. And she was determined to find out why.

When she came closer to you, she saw you were holding a note. That was now filled with tears and barely readable. She was silently able to figure out the note was from your former best friend, it was written in curvise and nobody else wrote in cursive other than her.

She rushed to you and hugged you tight, even letting a few tears drop herself. She hugged you like it was the only thing she knew. She hugged you as if it was the last time she would ever be graced with your presence.

"It's okay it's okay," You felt Nancy's breath hit your ears. You hugged her back but not as tight or comforting but as if you would die if you were to ever let go.

"Will I ever be, Nance?" You asked as you wiped your eyes. "I don't know why I feel like this, it's been two years. Two damn years!" You exclaimed. Nancy hushed you, which made you cry even more.

"May not seem like it now but you will be, you will be. Okay?" Nancy tells you. "I promise."

Robin Buckley

Robin's heart shatters when she hears sniffles coming from your room. She opens the door, quietly. What she walked in on, she would have never expected it.

You were watching a vhs tape, it was of you and you ex-bsf. It seems to be a dance routine. 'So that's why you don't dance anymore,' Robin thought. You looked to be around eight in the tape which made Robin confused.

Robin went to your TV and took out the vhs tape which startles you as you looked up at her in confusion.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Before you could finish your question, Robin throws the vhs tape in the trash. "You don't need to be crying over that priss, I won't allow it."

"You can't control my emotions Rob, please go. I need to be alone right now." You tell her. Robin doesn't believe you, so she sits on the floor with you and hugs you. "No, you don't. You need someone more than ever right now."

You lean in Robin's side as she wipes your tears away. "Thanks." You mumbled. Robin gives you a kiss on the head as a reply. "Anytime baby, anytime."

Home. Masterlist. Rules. Tumblr. Tiktok. Wattpad.

#x gender neutral reader #stranger things #80s #robin buckley #eddie munson #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #el hopper #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #jim hopper #joyce byers #jonathan byers #upside down #vecna

[cloned-eyes]

Stormy seas | Part I

Merman!Wrecker x GN!Reader

Part II

Living your whole life on the small paradise that Pabu is you find yourself discovering something truly impossible after a storm had raged over Island. And soon you discover secerts whom had waited for years to be discoverd

WARNINGS: mentions of destructions and death and dead bodies, alot of time spend on the ocean, no use of Y/N, no describtion of outer appearance in any way, there will be darker elements as the story progresses, just mentioning it here already. I also have no idea about sailing and ships in gerneral so bare with me - sorry to anyone who actually knows how to operate a boat and doesn't need google to sort things out

No beta read/ Did my best to spell and grammar check but english isn't my first language so bare with me. Hope it's somewhat readable.

It was getting late and you had to head to the shore more sooner than later at this point, but you didn't feel like leaving just yet. The ocean had been raging up until two days ago. Waves, bigger than you had ever seen them before in your life crashing against the isle without mercy. Greedily swallowing the lower levels of Pabu for days and only spitting out ruins of what had been homes – entire lives- just mere days before. It was a tragedy really. It hadn't been the first storm they had encounter but the force with which it had hit the island was beyond what they had anticipated. Shep blamed himself quite a lot for what had happened, even though nothing had been in his control at any point. No body could have foreseen the catastrophe that was about to unfold itself over Pabu and once it did there was little one could've done against it any ways.

You tried your best to comfort him. The destruction was greatly yes and it would take quite a lot of time to rebuild everything, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. The more servere part however where the individuals who had fallen victim to the flood. Up until now there had been at least five people fallen victim to the devilish waves, over another ten still missing. It wasn't his fault and while slim there was still hope to find those who were lost alive. You told him that. Told him that he had done his best and that he succeeded in keeping his people save, many saved due to his quick thinking and immediate evacuating as soon as he realized this wasn't just a usual storm to encounter. Though he might not fully believed your words, being extremely hard on himself, you still believed it at least reassured him a bit.

The first day after the storm was the worse. Seeing the whole scale of destruction. A lot of places in lower Pabu were covered in water still, the tide only slowly flowing back.

Saving anything was tricky, especially since the storm had raged for a few days and had not only devoured the homes of so many citizens of the Isle but also their ships. You were one of the few lucky enough to rediscover yours intact. Sure, it was a bit flooded and roughed up but nothing you couldn't fix quickly.

And due to that you were chosen to search the coastline for anything but more importantly anyone. Other ships, belongings that would have survive the storm by miracle, possible still alive animals floating around on wreckage and of course those people who were still missing. You prayed to whatever entity was listening that you would be spared of coming into contact with dead floating bodies and instead found them alive.

And while sailing the coast line up and down, keeping your eyes open you also occupied yourself with picking up said wreckage and anything that didn't belong in the ocean while also watching out for stray nets. You assumed that the storm had caused quite the damage, tearing away the nets of of local fisherman and making them an extreme hazard for marine life.

There was so much junk floating in the water and it took very little time for your small ship to fill up fast.

Leaning down you grabbed a plastic bottle swimming past your boat. Inspecting it you found a small crab caged inside it. Fiddling your pocket knife out of your jackets pockets you swiftly got to work, slicing open the bottle before gently releasing the crab back into the water. Eyes looking after it as it slowly drifted back into the deep.

The water slowly got black, golden streaks dancing on the waves as the sun began to set. Gaze lifting to roam over the water surrounding you you quickly caught the sight of buoy 13. Of course it had to be 13.

A shiver run down your spine as the fine hairs in your neck stood up. The black waters.

Everyone on Pabu tried to avoid these waters. Not only because they were quite far away from the shore but also because a lot of bad things had happened here. No one knew why exactly but the amount of boats who had capsized here was scary. At least ten fisherman had drowned here over the years. But you suspected that there had to been more, since this was only the number of bodies who could be retrieved not taking into account those washed onto the shores and those who were never seen again. Many suspected that due to the many rocks hidden beneath the surface many tricky streams had developed in this area. Strong enough to push unsuspecting boats against the sharp rock, tearing them open in the process and letting them sink quickly. It was the most logical theory however, there also was a second option.

You had grown up with the stories about dangerous, vicious sea creatures roaming this part of the coast. Tearing apart ships, sinking them to feast upon the crew. Devouring those poor souls so swiftly that only their bones reached the bottom of the ocean. You didn't liked those stories and as an adult you doubted their possibility. While many of the bodies that had been found had missing limbs and bite marks it was more logical to assume that those stemmed from sharks and other bigger predatory fish who populated the nearby waters and not some fairytale sea monsters. Still, now that the sun was setting and the wind got colder this dammed buoy radiated an aura of threat, making your stomach drop.

You decided to head back not wanting to accidentality sink yourself after all. Getting ready to turn your ship around and head for the shore you suddenly caught something in the corner of your eye. A splashing noise. Short but loud.

For a moment you thought you had imagined things, believing your mind was playing tricks on you. Another shiver hit you, a voice in the back of your head screaming for you to move your butt and get back on land as fast as you could. However a other part of your mind – and a stronger one at that – told you to stay and to take a look around. Hopeful to find whatever had just flashed by.

It was getting hard to see anything really, since the horizon had nearly swallowed the sun whole by now.

Eyes scanning over the pitch black waves nothing caught your attention. Ready to admit that you paranoia was getting the best of you, you were about to start your ships engine as something big floating in the water caught your attention. There was no way you could make out what exactly it was from where you currently stood but after focusing extremely hard your eyes could make something out that appeared to be a net wrapped around whatever swam there. Concerned that this might could be a marine creature – or a missing person- caught up in a lethal trap you started your engine, cautiously approaching it. Getting nearer to it you could make out something that looked like a fin of sorts. You couldn't really tell since the last ray of light had disappeared by now and your ships headlights only provided enough light ahead to see where you were navigating your ship.

You let out a relieved sigh, at least it wasn't a human body.

Carefully positioning your ship besides whatever floated there you could confirm that what you had spotted was indeed a fin. A big fin. Whatever this creature was, it certainly was massive.

You watched it a moment to see if it still moved, which was hard to tell by the way the waves rocked both your ship and the creature. Careful to not go overboard you reached out to gently grab the fin, softly shaking it to see if you got a response. After a few seconds you felt a weak resistance followed up by a weak attempt to move the fin. The creature was still alive.

Letting out yet another relived huff you tried to figure out the scale of entanglement. The hard plastic fibre wrapped itself around the dark body in a merciless tight manner, following it's shape into the dark waves, disappearing out of sight. This was less then ideal and you hoped that you could fix it from up here, even though you had no idea how bad it was beneath the pitch black surface. Hoping for the best, you really prayed it would be enough for this individual to free itself after you gave it the little support you were currently able to offer. Steadying yourself you reached for the net, trying to get the body closer to your ship so you could better see were to cut the fibre.

You felt the tensing muscles and then movement. It was a soft resistance but even from the rather gentle movement your could tell that whatever this creature was, it was strong. Perfectly able to tear you out of your boat if you weren't careful.

It's fin moved, splashing water which hit your face. You softly shook your head to get the droplets away from your face.

“Easy there”, you murmured softly, “just wanting to help ya.”

Pulling it even closer you waited for a moment to make sure it wouldn't suddenly lash out in an attempt to get away from you. Once you felt secure enough that it would remain calm – even though you could never tell with wild, wounded animals- you began to work equally swiftly and carefully. Skilfully cutting the net open, freeing the skin beneath it little by little.

The more fibre you cut open, the more the tail started to move again. Motion that got more and more powerful with each second passing, testing its nearly found freedom.

Slicing apart a particular big entangled part of netting you felt the rest of the straps swiftly loosening.

A small smile appeared on your lips. You almost had it. Carefully tugging on the strands your freed the creature more and more, encouraging it to move with a gently petting on its tail, softly pushing it. The tail moved, much more confident this time, smoothly wiggling itself out of the remaining net, quickly disappearing into the black depths again.

You were admittedly a bit disappointed that it was so dark and you hadn't been able to see much more than the fin and part of the tail, curios about what kind of creature you just had freed. Taking a few moments to watch look at the now empty waves in hopes that it might came back. Obviously a ridiculous want but hey, one could dream.

Hoisting the remaining net into your boat you eventually set course for Pabu, finally heading back to the bright lit shore.

And while your way back was smooth and undisturbed you couldn't quite shake the feeling of being watched. Head spinning around a few times in hopes to catch anything, shaking your head at the the absurdity of your paranoia.

Tiredness was probably catching up to you and if you were honest you couldn't wait to get some sleep.

Still, the feeling of being followed lasted until you were in direct proximity of the makeshift harbour. The bright lights of the upper city now fully illuminating the pier your head snapped around as you heard soft splashing behind you.

Heart pounding you stared at the line were the lights of the pier and the shadows of the night met in a hard line. You were clearly imagine things, weren't you. Involuntarily the stories of the islands elders were back in the front of your brain.

Dangerous and vicious creature, waiting to sink unsuspecting boats and devouring whoever was on it.

You really tried to be rational but you somehow couldn't shake those absurd thoughts off your shoulders.

If it hadn't been for Shep, who had called out for you while already waiting on the edge of the dock, you would probably stayed there all night, staring wholes into the pitch black waves. Tearing your eyes away after once last sharp glance you finally called it a day. Being greeted and helped out your boat by Shep the man instantly briefed you in on what had happened in the city so far, distracting you from your suspicious feelings, at least for now.

Had had weird dreams that night. Your brain clearly having trouble processing things. Swimming in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by black waves a black fin circled you. Sometimes it came closer sometimes it strayed away further but it always remained somewhat close. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't swim away, being stuck watching this fin circling you. An unsettling feeling rattled your bones. Even once you woke up it wouldn't leave you and for the first time in a long time - if not ever – you felt uneasy about getting back out onto the open ocean.

The feeling passed eventually. Well not exactly passed but rather ousted by the grim discovery found on the beach the next day. One of the missing individuals had been found. Dead.

Washed to the docks between other wreckage. It was a daunting tragedy for everyone who lived on the island. You had been at Sheps side that morning. Laying a hand on his shoulder to offer him comfort. It wasn't much but you felt there were no words who could aid in this situation either. A harsh setback that caused a lot of doubt,dwindling the hopes of finding the other missing persons alive. A chance that realistically got slimmer with each hour passing.

After they salvage the poor soul out of the water you were back on your boat, scouring the waters surrounding the island as the days before.

Sure, you still felt like being watched sometimes. Sailing out on the open ocean could be equally beautiful as scary. Especially so when you had to keep your eyes open for missing people, possibly encountering their dead bodies. But after your third encounter with angered seabirds you figured that those winged devils were stalking you in chances of getting their hands – wings...beaks? - whatever, on something tasty, even if it was only your lunch.

The ocean was calm and a warm breeze washed over your boat. Waves softly rocking it. It was still early in the morning. The sun had yet to rise but her rays were already dying the night sky in warm pastel colours of orange and purple. It had been three days since you the dead body had been fished out from beneath the dock. Fortunately five of the other people missing were found still alive and in somewhat good condition. Dehydrated as hell but alive. A good omen.

Enjoining the exquisiteness of a quiet morning you sipped on your steaming hot caf and snacked a few treats that served as a breakfast for you. Than you heard it, a soft clank to your right. Head snapping so fast it nearly dislocated your neck your eyes fell on the back of your ship. Eyes wide you starred at the small shell now lying on the upper edge of your boats side. That definitely hadn't been there before. And while the inside of your head screamed 'NONONONO.NOPE.NOPEDY-NOPE.ABSOLUTLY NOT' you still got up after what felt like five minutes of staring at the shell to inspect it closer. Well, not the shell per se, more so in hopes to figure out where it had come from all of the sudden.

Picking it up you turned it around a few times, sharply inspecting it as of to find an engraving which had an explanation to all of it. It was quite pretty you had to admit. A fine piece to add to your collection if you had found it yourself but at the moment it only triggered feelings of fight or flight rather than awe.

Suddenly another clank and a short splash echoing after wards. Swiftly turning around you eyes found another shell. This time on the opposite side of your boat.

This was getting weird. Especially since now you had conformation that something was definitely circling your boat thanks to the splash your ears had picked up. You took a few steps away from the edge of your boat, hesitant to pick up the other shell. Instead you starred at it intensely, closely listening for any other sounds that could help you locate where whatever circled your boat was. Fidgeting with the first shell you currently still held between your fingers your racing mind tried to figure out what to do. At the same time a overpowering wave of curiosity hit you, begging you to risk a look over your boats edge.

Vicious creatures that sink boats...

You shook your head in a desperate attempt to get rid of those words. The last thing you needed right now was to lose your cool to your lively imagination.

Your body froze. Standing there for maker knows how long you waited. Waited for anything to happen. It felt like an eternity. Nothing happened. No further splashing, no further clanks and no further appearing of random shells on your boat.

Unease still pumped through your veins but your limbs began to move again, as you very quietly and cautiously made your way to the ships edge.

Your gaze fell on the shell. An equally beautiful one to the one you already received. Though you didn't picked it up and instead dared to peak over the ships edge, risking a glimpse onto the water.

The sight of nothing greeted you. Well, nothing besides empty waves and you dared to lean over a bit more, taking a closer look at the waters beneath you in hopes to see something – anything- in the depths.

Yet again your eyes picked up nothing.

Questioning yourself if you had lost your mind you placed your hands on the wet edge, scowling deeply. You were going crazy, weren't you? Lost deep in thought you temporarily ignored your

surroundings completely.

Clank.

The sudden sound made you jump. So much so that you found your arms slipping from the boats edge, losing balance and falling face first over the gunwale. Diving into the cold water had you confused and panicked. Body acting on instinct, arms paddling to get your head above water. You clothes greedily drank away the ocean, soaking themselves to the brim in seconds. It was heavy but you managed to get your head above water. Coughing violently you tried to get the water out of your eyes while also staying afloat. Hands grasping for anything to cling onto they eventually found the slick side of your boat. Unable to get a secure grip at first you eventually managed to get a hold of a lower part of the gunwale. Steadying yourself, your were finally able to wipe any remaining water out of your eyes with your other hand. Taking in deep breaths you took an alerted look around you. Your eyes were met with nothing but your body felt that something was there. Not willing to fuck around and find out you tried to make your way to the rear end of your boat as fast as you could. Trying to heave your body up and failing miserably so, you suddenly felt two strong hands gripping onto each side of your body, gently pushing you upwards with ease. While every thought in your mind froze instantly your body was at least still functional, moving on it's own and climbing back onto your boat. Knees falling onto the deck you scattered away from the gunwale in seconds. Heart racing and blood rushing in your ears you gawked at the rear end of the ship. Every muscle tense, lungs shallowly breathing you waited. Mind still trying to process what just had happened.

After another eternity something moved. Flinching you intensely watched as a taloned hand carefully placed a shell on the edge of the rear end. Unable to do anything you just continued to stare.

The hand appeared yet again, placing another shell on the edge.

You gulped, taking in a deep breath. What was going on?

Your body began to move again. Slowly, very slowly and as quiet as you could you moved over to the rear in a ducked position. Cautiously sliding up the ships wall to throw a glimpse over it. Nothing was there but you heard water splashing. So that creature was still there. Your eyes fell on the shells and before you could spare a second thought you finger softly pushed one of them over the edge. The shell fell and you heard a soft “blob” as it fell into the water. Crouching back down your eyes were glued to the edge.

After a minute the hand reappeared, softly putting the shell back. Your eyes grew wider.

And while you still felt freaked out you also started to burn up with curiosity. Maybe it was foolish but you felt like if whatever was keeping you company right know wanted to hurt you, it would have drowned you when it had the chance a few moments ago.

Fuelled by a hot wave of curiosity and boldness your finger slowly pushed the other shell into the water. This time it was retrieved a bit faster. Your the fearful glint in your eyes soon made space for a more awe one as you watched the sharp talons yet again placing the shell back with up most delicacy. The urge to reach out and catch a touch of them suddenly seemed overbearing and for a second you wondered what has gotten into you. You scoped closer to the ships edge, careful to not make any sound. Slowly getting up just enough to look over onto the water you pushed the shells in yet again. Hoping your plan would work, now eager to see whatever was down there.

Your gaze was fixed on the shell. Watching as it slowly sank down, softly glistening in the light until disappearing into the deep blue sea. Disappointment stung softly in your chest as nothing happened. You seemingly weren't as slick as you had thought of yourself to be.

Clank.

Your head flew to the side, spotting the shell.

It was apparent that this thing was smart. Whether or not it was playing games with you or was shy was still to be found out and you were determined to do so. You pushed the other shell at your disposal over board before swiftly making your way over to the other shell, pushing it in as well. You were sure that the creature was aware of your location on the ship, picking up your movements vibrating though the ship and into the water. But you hoped that if you were quick enough you could catch a glimpse or at least gather a bit more trust with your playful behaviour.

Waiting intensely for were the shells would resurface next your eyes constantly scanned over your boat, ears carefully listing for any sounds that could give away the creatures position.

The faintest of splashes echoed behind you. Turning around in slow motion – partly because you didn't want to startle the creature and partly because you didn't wanted to startle yourself either – your eyes fell on a rather human face, or at least parts of it. It took you by genuinely surprise, certainly not expecting anything like what you were currently encountering. The head just stretched out far enough for you to see it, eyes barely looking over the gunwale. Two mismatched eyes examine you, filled to the brim with unfiltered curiosity. Unable to do anything other than to directly stare back your mouth fell slightly agape.

Were you imagining things? Because if not for the eyes you could swear there was a man eyeing you up and down. It...He – you assumed it was a he- was bald. Bronze skin shimmering in the morning sun. His right eye was a pitch black, shiny orb. Eyes like a shark. Meanwhile the other one was coloured in a milky white, pupil tinted in a ghostly dull grey. You assumed he had lost his sight on the left side of his face. Backing up your theory by the plentiful amount of thick angry scar tissue surrounding said eye, spreading over his skull like a spiders web.

You couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away from his scars. In any other circumstance you would have felt awful for blatantly staring like this but right know your brain had stopped functioning properly.

Shivers ran down your spine and you weren't sure whether you should pity him or be afraid because of those marks life had left on him.

“What are you?”

The words fell out of your mouth without second thought. Your brain hadn't even registered that you had said them out loud at first. Not to mention that your voice was merely a weak whisper. But to your surprise you caught how the eyes of the creature ….man -whatever softly wrinkled. A clear sign of him smiling? Surely your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Wrecker”

You flinched, caught completely off guard by the strange sound of a raspy, deep voice. Nearly sounding human, but not quite enough for you to fully believe it. Fine hairs in your neck standing up. Goose pumps exploding across your skin. You couldn't believe your ears. Did it- he just speak? To you? Answering your question – understanding you?

“I'm Wrecker”, he clarified. Head swiftly disappearing behind the gunwale. Something snapped and you immediately rushed to lean over the ships edge, nearly falling of it again, in an attempt to get a closer look on him. Not willing to lose him out of your sight yet again.

“Wait!”

It was a sharp yell. A desperate attempt to buy you time. Staring onto the water you saw nothing but the deep blue. Cursing under your breath you mind raced.

“Wrecker, yes? Is that your name? Please come back”, you pleaded while restlessly searching through the wave. A carpet of bubbles appeared from under the ship, bursting open as soon as they broke through the waters surface. They were followed by a figure. The way the waves were rocking against your boat slightly distorted his facial features as he stared up at you just barley beneath the water line. Your wide eyes stared at him in awe, fascinated as you caught a glimpse of the rest of his body, or at least what you could make out from up here. Two wide flippers kept his body perfectly still, steadily floating. Only the upper part of him seemed to be human, the lower part had very strong similarities to a whale shark, at least colour wise.

He was absolutely massive. Even from what little you could see from your current position you were certain that he was huge. Three and a half meters, minimum.

It was clear as day that you were imitated by his size, by him. Period.

Your eyes as big as oranges and probably quite the ridiculous view from down there. He pulled his lips back, razor sharp teeth flashing underneath the waves and it took a moment to realize that he was grinning up to you- at you. Amused by you.

A short offended scream echoed through the back of your head. Was he making fun of you? A ridiculous thought but judging by the distorted sight under you a quite possibly true one.

Involuntarily puffing your cheeks your eyebrows knitted together. His grin spread wider even more.

Definitely amused by you.

You leaned down a bit further, hands securely gripping onto the ships edge. If you fell over again so be it. You were soaked to the bones anyway and maybe it would grant you a closer look at him anyway. He let himself sink a bit. Clearly toying with your attempts to get a better look at him. You huffed, scowling after him.

“A jokester, that's what you are”, you spoke into the waves, doubting that he could understand your murmuring underneath surrounded by water. However, his head tilt was a clear sign against your assumptions. His grin faltered ever yo slightly, shrinking into a smile, teeth no longer flared. His intense gaze broke free from yours. Looking somewhere into the wide open sea as of something else was catching his attention. Offering you one last glance he let himself sink further into the depths, massive body gracefully twisting with ease, diving into the endless blue beneath you.

Eyes catching the shimmers of light flashing over his dark tail you caught a quick glimpse of his strange looking dorsal fin. He was far to deep down by now to make out any more defined details which kept you yet again pondering about so many things.

But even from the short amount of what you had seen you couldn't help yourself to be amazed.

He was beautiful.

Tags (I hope that's okay since you guys mentioned you wanted a tag)

@moss-tombstone @marierg

#the bad batch #tbb wrecker #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #gn reader #mermaid au #eyes writes #i'm so nervous about this #i hope it makes sense

[solangelo]

I was wondering, do you have any recomendations on some long fics? Like, not just one chapter? Sorry if you had already posted something abou that. Anyway, thanks!!! (Really like your blog <<3333)

Absolutely!! I pretty much only read on Ao3 anymore so all of my recommendations are going to be there, but if others want to tack on their own recommendations in the comments they're always welcome to do so :)

A few things,

I tried to put content warnings on the bodies of work as I see fit, but some of these I read over a year ago and haven't looked at since so I apologize if I've missed something!

Additionally speaking, I've marked anything in which contains characters having sex with a red heart emoji ❤️ as it should be viewable on light and dark mode, across multiple forms of devices (ios vs android, etc) and should be readable to screen readers as well; As per previous notes on this blogs, any explicit depictions of characters having sex will also have them being explicitly over 18. Now without further ado-

I'm a huge fan of rabbit_soup's "Healing Takes Two" series, it's 13 pieces in total some of them are oneshots and others are multichapter but they all fit together making it a large body of text. The plot extends from Nico's three days in the infirmary to the early stages of their relationship and still seems to be ongoing with the author taking on rewriting some of their older pieces.

arum scarce by GalwayGirlo [16/20] AU ❤️:

Nico wakes up paralyzed following a motorcycle accident. Maybe Will Solace can help him get some feeling back?

(cw: suicidal ideation, a suicide attempt, adult having a relationship with a minor, "mafia stuff")

When I Get Home to You by 2nd2ndalto [10/10] Canon Compliant, Time Travel ❤️:

Will’s brow furrows."N - Nico?"

It’s impossible, this boy can’t be Nico, but the name falls from his lips without real conscious thought. Nico is 38 years old and probably sitting at home in their living room, hopefully having figured out how to fix the clogged dishwasher line, which is what he’d been planning on doing when Will left early this morning.

(cw: conversations about suicidal ideation and related topics, and young nico is involved so canon compliant trauma of his comes up as well)

talk your talk and go viral (i just need this love spiral) by wrongcaitlyn [34/34] and a part 2 currently at [2/?] chapters, Celebrity AU ft. Trans Nico:

“Keep telling yourself that,” Will says quietly, because even though the door is closed, speaking any louder would seem wrong. “You’re too harsh on yourself. If you wrote songs or something, you’d easily get on the Billboard Hot 100. Dad would help you. I would, too.”

“Promote it to your seven followers?”

“Yes!”

Nico laughs, and then Will is joining him, and they’re closer than before, but it’s nothing unusual. It’s been this way since before stupid feelings and stupid crushes, and Nico would be damned if he let it change just because of that.

(cw: alcoholism, childhood abuse and neglect, character death, car accidents, transphobia/homophobia/generalized queerphobia, gender dysphoria, suicidal ideation and related topics)

peach tea by ghosttotheparty [5/5] AU ft. Latino Will:

Will brushes his thumb over the side of Nico’s hand gently. His skin is soft. Nico’s fingers tighten on Will’s. It kind of feels like neither of them wants to move. Will doesn’t mind.

He sits up after a moment, but Nico doesn’t let go of his fingers, so he lifts the arm that’s awkward between them and sets it behind Nico, leaning back to rest on it. Nico just looks at the tapestry.

or; Will falls in love with the new kid.

(cw: mental health struggles, ptsd, anxiety/panic attacks, depression, grief, and character death)

What Could've Been Lights by athaleablaire [18/18], AU - I can’t remember if they have sex in this, rating is teen and up and all characters are over 18 but enter at your own risk:

In Will's eyes, he really has it all. A job as a surgeon at an amazing hospital, great friends-- what more could he ask for? Everything is going great until a man walks into his emergency room half-dead. In the mission to save his life, Will gets a little more than he bargained for.

(cw: injury and recovery, accusations of substance use)

a shadow in the rising sun by demigodbeautiies [9/13], AU Royalty, Arranged Marriage:

This is a story about the Ghost King.

Will Solace (crown prince in the Seventh Kingdom, politically useless as it may be) does not particularly want to be married to a thing of nightmares. He doesn't really have a choice, though. When does he ever? He allows his father to push him led into this politically advantageous, beauracratically necessary arrangement without too many complaints, and resigns himself to the fact he will be marrying a tyrant out of the tall tales his mother used to tell him when he was a boy.

Except then he meets his husband - a boy, and one younger than he is at that! - and realises that he has absolutely no idea what to expect. All he can hope for is that no one tries to kill him.

(cw: character death, character injury?)

NICO Centric:

Lethe by Eridans [8/8] Canon Compliant with a part 2 at [16/16]:

He's ten and ninety simultaneously, his mother was murdered and his sister is a stranger. He's got a deck of cards that he holds onto like a lifeline and an Italian-English dictionary that's old as hell and crumbling, but it's not as old as he is, and that makes him laugh.

The River Lethe was supposed to take away their memories, but Nico remembers his past, his days at home, the times he spent with his sister and mother at parades Mussolini hosted, where Maria sang the national anthem. The river tried to take away everything Nico cherished, and it could have been pure desperation or grief that made him remember his past.

Nico didn't know.

(cw: I started reading this fic over 8 years ago and haven't read it since it's last update 3 years ago, expect canon compliant events and themes to occur but otherwise proceed at your own risk, exercising caution and compassion for yourself where necessary <3)

WILL Centric:

Solace by solisaureus [11/11], Canon Compliant:

solace (n.) comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness.

solis (n.) the Latin word for "sun."

(cw: author includes their own content warnings at the start of each chapter!)

sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes by whimsicalMedley [13/26] Canon Compliant ft. Trans Will Solace:

Contrary to his general disposition, William Andrew Solace was born in the middle of an October hurricane.

Or, Growing up is hard. It’s even harder when you’re the son of the sun god.

(cw: author includes their own content warnings at the start of each chapter!)

Hopefully this is a good place to get you started, nonnie!

#fic rec #anon #asks #mod: hya

[demonofnowhere]

Time’s Time: Time for Thomas (don’t interrupt him) & Time for Stelle (interrupt me ASAP)

* now, i once had a lovely introduction to this post.  i did, honest.  it discussed how twitter has gotten worse and worse, and how if things went well i will do my best to post more thomas stuff here, and even briefly mentioned what this post is actually about. . .

* then firefox crashed. * being new to tumblr, i had not saved a draft of my post.  in fact, i found out you could save drafts mere minutes before firefox crashed.  i thought to myself “wow! what a nifty feature!”, and then proceeded to not save it.  this almost happened twice actually.  i managed to save it the second time thankfully.  i’m still livid though.

* thank you stelle, you are a really useless idiot.

* therefore, we’re not going to have that nice introduction.  the only things you need to know from that post is that you can find me on Twitter (@DemonOfNowhere) for more of my usual infodumping, and that i’ve ditched my usual typing quirks in favour of making this post readable for you all.  let’s get straight to the point instead. * greetings, i’m stelle, demon of nowhere (name change pending?), and it is unfortunately time for thomas.

Doesn’t it feel strange to see me type normally? With dignity? With even the slightest amount of respect for myself? Err, ahem, I mean... Thomas! I love Thomas. I love the ending of “Stepney’s Special” for Thomas.

Thomas tries very hard to maintain a very professional profile on his branch line. It’s likely something he picked up from Gordon, if his attempts to imitate him whilst he was younger are anything to go by (note “Thomas’ Train”). If you get in Thomas’s way, he kicks up such a fuss and holds it against you until either one of your gets a taste of Sudrian karma (”you” being Percy in this situation, usually). This all means that when Thomas is shunted to allow Stepney, a newcomer, fly past him with one measely coach while Thomas, Annie, Clarabel and their passengers crossly wait for him to pass, Thomas gets cross.

Really cross. Super cross. He holds it against Stepney and is still fuming by the time the next morning arrives.

Thomas spoils the effect of it very quickly though. Of course he does, he’s Thomas and he’s stupid. All Stepney had to do was give one compliment and next thing he knew, Thomas was telling him EVERYTHING about his branch like an eight-year-old telling their parent all about their cool new toy they got (don’t let Mattel hear about this). Stepney calls Thomas an expert once, and away Thomas goes, not only to stroke his own ego a little, but also just because he’s too happy to ramble about his prized branch line (which Percy and Toby clearly think is hilarious, based on the illustration...). He’s a bit like me in that sense; we like to ramble about things no one cares about, but we can’t stop ourselves. Please help me.

One of my favourite parts of this exchange is the following line: “Ah well,” said Thomas modestly.

“Modestly” is the funniest words ever used to describe Thomas the Tank Engine. You and I of course both know that, despite his good heart, he is anything but modest.

Now, there’s something else I’d like to talk about here too. If you’ve read my ramblings before, you know that I cannot type for five seconds without bringing up something else that I didn’t mean to bring up but brought up anyway. I’m silly like that.

If Thomas got mad at Stepney for interrupting his branch line’s timetable once...

...How would he feel about having a whole train that has to do everything in its power to NOT interrupt the usual services?

In notes of Ffarquhar’s layout, the land cruise enthusaist train is noted to be scheduled in-between regular services, and mustn’t disrupt traffic. This is implied to be more difficult than it ought to be, partially because rail enthusiasts are rail enthusiasts and getting them back into the coaches is a miserable experience for the station’s secretary, and partially due to shunting arrangements at Ffarquhar that are absolutely mind-boggling (a document I wrote up of Ffarquhar’s timetable, according to the Awdry DVD, can be found here!).

The moment the Bloomer, or whoever the enthusiasts’ engine happens to be, arrives, he has to square his fancy saloon coaches away to make room for Thomas, Annie and Clarabel’s next down service. So, imagine for me, what happens when Bloomer indulges the enthusiasts’ interest in him at the platform for a little too long, only for Thomas with his grumpy little face to huff into the station yard and start angrily shouting at Bloomer to Get Out Of His Way Or Else The Fat Controller Will Find Out And You Will Regret That.

Now, we of course know little of Bloomer, but I’ve always thought of him not quite as an old grandpa, but rather a showman who takes a lot of pride in his theatrics on a railway filled mainly of engines still in regular service. Bloomer doesn’t get to appear publicly very often, but when he does, he’s going to make it worthwhile. He’s going to bask in the spotlight for as long as he can, impressing everyone who is lucky enough to draw eyes on him, and he’s certainly no pushover. If Bloomer wants to spend time talking to the enthusiasts about his past life (though he has to keep SOME secrets, of course. Part of the act, a bit of mystery is always fun), then he’s going to spend as much time as he can doing just that -- which he always does.

This drives Thomas insane. A WHOLE TRAIN THAT COULD THROW ALL OF HIS TIMETABLE, ALL THAT HE’S WORKED FOR, OUT THE WINDOW SO EASILY? WHAT. The poor guy. He and Bloomer would be the ultimate enemies, egomanaics for different reasons that will forever butt heads while the other Ffarquhar engines would wish they’d just shut up for two seconds.

He cheerfully and dutifully shunts Annie and Clarabel along from the carriage shed... then he sees Bloomer’s ugly mug taking up the platform. “YOU,” Thomas hissed, grounding to a halt, “YOU’RE not supposed to be here.” “Ah,” Bloomer smiled sweetly, “Thomas my boy, I most certainly belong here. It’s part of my act for me to be right here, right now. ‘Tis merely part of my script.” “Right now!?” scoffed Thomas, as Annie and Clarabel chattered quietly behind, “Right now, you and your ugly great houses on wheels are meant to be by the cattle dock! Never mind your ‘act’, my Timetable is much more important! You always talk such nonsense.” “And you always talk ever so much, yet say very little,” mused Bloomer, “A script would do you well, improv is clearly not your strong suit, Thomas my darling. For such a famous little engine, you never seem to respect the life of a shining star. What a waste, what a waste. We Enthusiast Engines have far more than timetables to worry about, boy; we have fans to please.” Thomas wanted to retort, but was interrupted by a shrill, long blast of Bloomer’s whistle. “I hope you all enjoyed the first part of the show!” Bloomer called to his passengers, as he began to back away, “We shall return after our intermission, and I have no doubt you shall all be there to witness the Grand Finale of today’s display! Make sure to be there at 6 o’clock sharp. After all, Time’s Time.” Bloomer winked in Thomas’s direction. Thomas’s face was redder than Bloomer’s paint, and he had practically vanished behind a thick cloud of steam. “What a horrid engine!” he grumbled to Annie and Clarabel when he finally made it to the platform, “He thinks the whole railway revolves about him, and expects everyone to work at HIS pace! The shame of it, the shame of it...” Annie and Clarabel really thought it all rather ironic.

This is all made funnier by the fact that once the enthusiasts’ train leaves Ffarquhar for the junction, it crosses Thomas with Annie and Clarabel going up the line at Elsbridge. Thomas has yet another chance to start bickering with Bloomer, especially when the Ffarquhar secretary likely couldn’t get the stragglers into Bloomer’s coaches in time (and Bloomer of course didn’t help her one bit). Their next rowl shall be exciting stuff for all involved -- except Annie and Clarabel, who have tried reasoning with Thomas the whole time, but haven’t quite been able to get through to their stubborn engine.

Now, realistically, I had planned to do a bit more talking rather than writing a whole scene. However, much like Thomas, improv isn’t my strong suit, and I hadn’t at first planned for this to be a Bloomer discussion, and perhaps this has gone on for long enough. Whoops!

What have we learnt today? Well, personally, I’ve learnt that I probably need to get the hang of writing these posts. This probably hasn’t worked out super well. Those of you who are more familar with this site are probably cringing so hard at me right now, and you’re entirely right to do so. For shame, me, for shame...

Usually, I like to round these off with a nice, poetic conclusion about what we’ve discussed today... but really I didn’t know that this post was going in the direction it went into. I mainly wrote this to get my foot in the door and finally post something of substance here. Apparently my second to most popular post here is talking about how fucking funny Terence the Tractor here. Can we change that please? Terence the Tractor is funny but... I can do better than that...

Well, no, no I can’t.

...

You know, I meant to start using my typing quirks again at the end of the post.

But now we’re here, and it doesn’t feel right for me to start using them.

...

I’m doing an awful job at ending this.

...

Maybe Terence the Tractor IS the best I can do.

Hmm.

#The Railway Series #Thomas The Tank Engine #Thomas #Stepney #Bloomer #Ffarquhar #Thomas and Friends #i don't know how these tags work #if i've done something wrong feel free to yell at me #because holy HELL i must have done so much wrong #i'll hopefully post more ramblings here #and hopefully they'll be better than whatever on earth this post is #ever think about how funny terence the tractor is? #ttte #ttte thomas #ttte stepney #ttte bloomer #is that better? #no clue. #life is rough.

[kryptonitejelly]

Okay buttttt more flyboy Jake thots. Tried to be cute and fluffy and ended with a smidge of very cute daddy and breeding kink, literally couldn’t help myself

We know Jake (and you) both like the hard hot and heavy sex, but I think he secretly loves how intimate it is when you guys have sex on the couch if you’re trying to watch a movie or unwind.

Like there’s something so tender and good, and also the build up of the way you slowly trace your fingers over his chest and stomach, running them up and down, tracing little patterns and maybe brushing over the front of his pants and down his thighs but never really touching him. And the way it seems to just slowly get you fired up. He’s probably never really had that kinda intimacy or patience with anyone but you and he loves it. You’d start kissing his neck and chest and shoulders and before you know he’s got you pinned to the couch and you’re kissing all deep, you’re both panting and scrambling to touch everything. He’s grinding his hips into you and it’s just all of this tension and time that he couldn’t have you, and the intimacy of getting to take his time with you and have these quiet moments and it just does something to him! Like he needs to be inside you and feel himself all of the way inside you

And I feel like you’d both be scrambling to take your clothes off, movie forgotten. But then you’d both be laughing at the awkwardness of the couch itself and rubbing noses, him kissing your forehead and holding your hands, loving the way your breasts press against his chest and going deep and slow- savoring how tight you are and wet for him. He lasts a couple of thrusts slow before his hips start finding the pace on their own and he’s kissing you the whole time. 🥺 just something so sweet about it and being able to be silly and laugh but also dear lord can that man fuck you just right. And I think he loves the closeness of it, that you’re all his and that he can have you anytime he wants like this. Sweetly whispering you can’t wait to make him a daddy and holding his hand, looking him in the eyes when you said it would have him cumming so hard and deep in you. He’d be so serious when he asked after if you meant it and he’d cradle your cheek and tell you he’s absolutely ready whenever you are, you can throw your birth control out tomorrow baby. How proud he’d be of you and any kiddos you had. And maybe even sneaking in an I love you so much or you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.

Just a t h o t, from a local thot .and some fluff and sweetness to rot your teeth on Sorry 😂❤️

Context: Flyboy (but readable without)

Oooooh thank you for this anon!!! NSFW - minors DNI

Jake has had slow sex with his previous girlfriends / hook ups / flings / friends with benefits before, but never something this intimate before you - never had the patience for it. You could say it is because all his patience, his whole life, has been spent on you - just waiting for you to be his, waiting for nature to take it’s course and the puzzle pieces to fall into place.

Jake likes all types of sex with you - sensual and slow, hot and steamy, hard and fast, or intimate and patience. He would even be happy just making out with you on the couch, like a couple of teenagers, hands touching everywhere, clothes hips bucking into yours as you grind down on him. Jake honestly does not need to have sex to be entirely satisfied with you; and if he does, well honestly - he doesn’t even need to cum to be satisfied with you (surprising, but true; but with you, it never takes him very long). He just needs to feel you around him, just needs to know you feel good.

But taking you on the couch - my god, yes; it would start off innocently enough, but then suddenly he is pining you to the couch, lips crashing over yours, teeth clinking, hands everywhere touching you like how you are touching him. Hips grinding into you and yours bucking into him - better on the days you are wearing a dress or skirt which he can hike up easily, and you can feel the growing clothed bulge in him rubbing against your damp underwear.

Jake would be such a tease during these times where you are just making out on the couch with a movie playing, because it kinda reminds him of all those times during high school or college where you were both so so close, and you were sooo near but so far; and all he wanted was to take you right then and then, because he felt so much for you, but he could not. So this is Jake making up for time lost, getting back all those couch romps he wish he could have had.

At some point - yes, you both would bs scrambling to take your clothes up, because all that build up and kissing, and touching, it gets to a point where you just need Jake inside of you now, and he - needs to feel you around his cock, now.

There would be giggling and laughter - and always talk of “we need to get a bigger couch”, because Jake is tall and broad, and it is sometimes tough to navigate your bodies on the couch. But he always manages, and you both never get a bigger couch, because it would put you both too far apart when lounging on it together.

But yessss, he would be holding your hands in his above your head, eyes looking into yours, watching as your face contorts with pleasure, as he thrusts into you, slowly, taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you all wet, slick, warm around him, and the way your breasts are pressed up against his chest, your nipples rubbing against his skin.

“Baby, how are you always so tight for me,” is what he always says each time, because how are you, as he kisses you, panting and groaning into your mouth about how good you feel around his cock. He knows how to fuck you good, and you would definitely not be shy about being vocal about it - moaning loudly, letting him know how good he feels and Jake would lap every single bit of it up.

Fuuuuck anon - imagine if you are sooo fucked out, you tell him to cum in you, because you can’t wait to make him a daddy (maybe, after one day of watching him with his nieces and nephews on a day you are feeling particularly soft), Jake would just go wide eyed, but would continue ploughing into you, his thrusts growing more intense, before he just reaches his climax, face sinking into your shoulder, his cum, wet, hot, painting your insides.

Even if he doesn’t ask you if you mean it, he would totally be peppering your face in kisses while coming down from his high, his cock still throbbing inside of you, telling you that he loves you, and he can’t wait for the day you have kids of your own with him, and “baby, say the word, if you are ready, i’ll throw your birth control out right now”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

#flyboy #flyboy ideas #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfic #jake hangan seresin fanfic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #not cm

[theresattrpgforthat]

Heya, I'm going to do a one shot session for my birthday and I'm looking for recommendations! If you're up for giving me some pointers, I'd be super happy. I'll be playing with people who have no experience role-playing, and I myself have little experience and I've never DM'ed. It needs to be easy to understand and the rules need to be easily readable for the players. It can be GM less (doesn't have to be) because I'm also really excited about playing :) It should be creative and not to combat heavy. Aesthetic wise I'm flexible, I like magic and fantasy but I'm not at all set on that, just one thing: I made a mysterious notebook (dark academia style) that I want to use during the session, it documents "secrets" like maps and drawings of plants and old photographs, nothing's legible in there, I just want people to make up the secrets that have been discovered within this book. So the notebook needs to somehow fit into the game, but the setting in general does not need to be dark academia style.

Wow that's a really long ask,I hope you're not seeing it as me feeling entitled to a super specific recommendation. Just if you want to give me and my inexperienced friends a hint for my birthday afternoon, anything at all, I'd be super happy

Theme: New Group Friendly, Fantastical Mystery

Alright, so for this answer, these are the following concepts I tried to consider:

Guidance for the GM

Friendly to new players, easy to teach

Creative with a de-emphasis off combat

magic, fantasy, mystery, a little bit of darkness

something that encourages the group to flip through some kind of oracle

GM-less is welcome but not necessary

All of these games have GM-less as an option, but I recommend that if you're the one picking the game, that you read through at and be ready to facilitate, as you'll know a bit more about what's going on.

A Land Once Magic, by Viditya Voleti.

A Land Once Magic is a Post-Fantasy worldbuilding game to help create unique worlds based around deconstructing and evolving fantasy tropes and creating unique magic systems that are built from the ground up. Using only random tables and a deck of cards you'll be able to create a wholly original post-fantasy world!

If you want to specifically use the mysterious notebook to add to the game you are playing, I think a world building game would be a great way to incorporate it into the setting itself. A Land Once Magic asks you to create a world together and come up with your own ideas about how magic works, using a deck of cards and random tables. However, for a game like this, you could use the book that you have to give you ideas about how to answer questions in the game. For example, to answer the question about what cost magic has, flipping the book to a page with a botanical drawing of flowers might inspire the character to talk about the the bond between magic and living things, or how flowers fail to bloom where magic has been cast.

I like the fact that this game is GM-less, giving everyone the same creative agency, and that it structures play using cards, so you should always have an idea of what you can do next. At the end of it you’ll have a completely unique setting where you can imagine the potential of future stories and adventures!

Goblin Market, by Kestrel Eliot.

Every solstice, the veil thins between the worlds, merging mortal world with fae realm. Some time ago, the goblins started a market on the solstices to encourage friendship, trade, and storytelling between the worlds. Play to get to know your characters, meet fae beings, and ultimately decide where you belong.

Another game that uses a deck of cards as prompts for telling a story, Goblin Market explores the story of mortals trying to decide if they run away into the fae realm or not. You’ll spend the game in three different phases: setting up character backstory as they explore the market, diving into the personal struggles and connections of each character as the are confronted with the magical food of the Goblin Market, and then finally a choice - do you stay, or do you go? What does this mean for you in the future?

This is another game in which you could use the book as an oracle. You could flip to different pages to help characters answer questions about themselves if you like, or even use it as inspiration for what happens once each character makes their decision. This game definitely provides the structure a first-timer might appreciate, while encouraging each player to put forward ideas and create the Goblin Market as you play.

Beating Heart Bargain, by Charlotte Laskowski.

Beating Heart Bargain is a rules-lite tabletop roleplaying game made for one to three players, with or without a GM.  You play as a Wizard who has traded a piece of themselves in exchange for more power, and now you seek to retrieve what you had once bargained away. Heavy inspiration is taken from Studio Ghibli films, especially Howl’s Moving Castle and Spirited Away.

This game has such an enchanting theme, and provides all of your characters with short but evocative options to create their wizards. This game can be GM-less, but it doesn’t have to be. If you play without a storyteller, the players will take turns describing the environment around you, the people you meet, and the creatures and details that will show up as problems emerge. You could use your book as a kind of “grimoire” in this game, possibly as an oracle to fill out parts of the setting, or perhaps the pages leave clues as to how to return your missing piece.

This game is extremely creative and really encourages you to avoid combat if possible. I strongly recommend that you check out this game!

EYE: A Murder Mystery Generator, by Zak Makes Games.

EYE is a cooperative mystery solving game for one to six players. Players take on the role of detectives, hunting down suspects, evidence and clues in order to solve a randomly generated murder mystery. It’s up to you and your friends to make sense of the information presented and get to the bottom of each mysterious case!

This is a setting-agnostic mystery game, so if you would like to use it for a fantastical setting, you absolutely can! Players will use a random word to generate the premise of the mystery, and then interview suspects and uncover evidence to determine who the murderer actually is. You can use the book as a way to come up with clues, and perhaps even make it an integral part of solving the case! This game is totally co-op, and the pieces of evidence that are required give everyone a concrete goal to pursue and points the group in a specific direction. Worth checking out!

Games I've Recommended In the Past

Research Arcanum, by J. Evan Nyquist.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #gm-less games #first-time games

[feverdreamjohnny]

Hi, I’m a newer game dev (at least I’m tryin to be one lol) and I’ve realized that I have a really hard time finishing projects, because I just get burnt out and lose any passion I had for it. Do you have any advice?

Here's how I've (sort of) navigated these issues:

- Make small games. This was originally my "starting out" advice for people, but as time has gone on I genuinely think this is the only practical method for indie development. When I say small, I mean SMALL. I don't mean "oh, make an 8 hour game with hidden levels and side quests," I mean "your game is, at most, a single hour long, preferably 30 minutes." I've seen enough indies overscope their work and get stuck for nearly a decade without a finished product because they wanted to replicate the scope of a game made by several people with millions of dollars. You can definitely attempt larger projects down the line, but for the most part smaller games are what give you consistent growth as a creative, a reliable audience, and if you monetize them on steam or itch.io - an income. It's also a great opportunity to explore experimental design/art without risks, which is always valuable.

- Regardless of the game's scope, you need to take multi-day-long breaks if you're experiencing burnout. Game development is a cerebral discipline and it will tire you out fast. Forcing yourself through burnout might squeeze out more results, but you're just amplifying burnout down the line. Recognize that the breaks are a natural extension of the process and don't wreck yourself trying to be "more" than that. Hell, even painters sometimes need a bit of space from their work before they can continue, why would it be any different here?

[MORE BELOW THE BREAK]

- Don't get hung up on the game not coming out like you thought it would. If you become frustrated because the game doesn't reflect your ambitions, it's easy to lose interest and want to move on from it. Games will almost never resemble the initial vision. Sometimes you have to avoid being a perfectionist and accept your game for what it is.

- Find community (if you can). Surrounding yourself with other developers can be a great motivator for your own work, and being able to tap into a larger pool for second opinions and assistance can help you break barriers that otherwise would've stopped your work.

- Take your time. Game development is slow, and learning the various disciplines inside of it is a lengthy process. It took me 8 years to do the stuff I do today. Granted you might have an easier time if you're older than I was when I started, but in general it will take years to get to a point where you feel confident.

- Try a different engine from time to time. Most modern engines are fairly well suited for independent game development, but the available resources surrounding the engine (such as documentation and community support) can vary wildly. I strongly recommend window shopping across several engines. There's a small chance that you're having a hard time because the engine you're currently using isn't well suited to you and your goals. Some recommendations based on the ones I've personally tried:

* Game Maker Studio 2 - Great general purpose engine for 2D game development. Has a great community and plenty of learning resources. It's also fairly user friendly. It does have a license cost if you want to monetize your games, so keep that in mind. Scripting is done with GML, which is very human-readable.

* Godot - One of the best open source 2D/3D game engines. Doesn't have all the features of its competitors, but it's rapidly evolving and what's already there is more than enough to make most games. It's also compatible with various programming languages! Also, being open source means that it's completely free of licensing costs.

* Unreal Engine - Freakishly powerful 3D game engine at the cutting edge for modern game development. The C++ scripting might be fairly tough to work with as a newcomer (especially since it's built around a special wrapper for the engine that changes some of the rules), but it does have a well supported visual scripting backend that could do you some good. 2D games are certainly possible in Unreal, but it's clear that's not what the engine is intended for. Also Unreal has a neat licensing policy where you don't have to pay them unless you make more than +$1M, so that's cool.

* Unity - This is the one I use. It's great for 2D and 3D, and has a rapidly evolving feature set. It's one of the few engines with a swappable rendering pipeline system, which lets you pick the fidelity to work with relative to your game: With HDRP you can work on high-end games, and URP is great for doing everything else. Like Unreal you can initially monetize your games for free, but you have to pay a monthly subscription once you cross +$100k. Also you have to pay a monthly subscription to get rid of the splash screen which kind of sucks. Other than that, it's a very robust engine with possibly the largest community of the engines listed here.

[nights-flying-fox]

It's Not Always the Rabbit Who Takes the Wrong Turn

Chapter 2: Two Leos, No Leo

Leo wakes up somewhere very familiar, and yet not. Meanwhile Donnie has a theory.

Word Count: 3477 ☆ Fandom: rottmnt ☆ Warnings: brief mention of wounds, nothing else ☆ AO3 Link: Here!! ☆ Previous Chapter: AO3 / Tumblr

 Leo wasn’t sure what was going, or why he was sleeping in such an uncomfortable place (his bed wasn’t like this). A buzzing sound of loud chatter filled the place too, which was the worst. He hardly could make up words.

 “It wasn’t me-”

 “-no –machine—”

 “I—clone—eo—”

 He knew those voices.

 “Then how—o Le—”

 Family, it was his brothers.

 It was them.

 His mind was slowly catching up with reality. As sounds became more and more clear, Leo’s memories of what had happened returned to him as well.

 “Please Casey—”

 “They all die!”

 “It isn’t about me.”

 Leo opened his eyes wide open, shooting up with the sudden worry. His family, he had to be sure they were okay. He had to see them.

 “L-leo! Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself!” He heard Raph before seeing him. There he was: big, strong, healthy. All good, just a few healing wounds. He looked all okay.

 “R-raph?” Leo asked, voice a bit weak.

 Raph examined him while he placed Leo back on the bed carefully. “Is it really... really you? Leo?”

 Leo had priorities though. “Are you okay?”

 “Wha- oh- yes I am good, but I need you to stop moving.” Raph said softly.

 “I—” Leo tried to move to look at him better, but the sudden pain made him gasp. He cursed under his breath, wincing.

 “The painkillers should kick in soon.” He sighed, clearly not happy seeing Leo like that.

 Geez, Krang must’ve hit him badly back on Technodrome. And when he was returning home. Eugh. At least his family knew the basics of healthcare, he was grateful for that. Talking about wounds and family... “How’s everyone? Dad, Donnie, Mikey, April? Casey Jr.?”

 “Everyone’s okay, see?” Raph smiled, albeit his worry was still readable on his face. He gestured to the space around them, and Leo followed his direction. To be honest he was surprised he hadn’t seen Donnie and Mikey before. They were behind Raph, looking at him. Leo couldn’t see any injuries, much to his relief.

 Except... those scars (or they were burns? They looked like lighting scars though...) on Mikey weren’t here before. He turned to Raph to ask, but then he noticed the healing wounds he had seen before were scars, fully healed.

 ...Had he slept that long?

 “Are you really Leo?” Mikey asked, distracting him. Beside Mikey, Donnie looked at him in a way that made Leo’s worries worse. It was that untrusting face, the suspicious one. Had something happened to Leo, like in Jupiter Jim’s New Adventures Vol. 7 where JJ’s appearance was altered? Oh, pizza supreme in the sky please no! He was the face man (and the leader, sadly), he couldn’t lose his good looks!

 Leo smiled at his brothers, not letting his thoughts spill out. “The one and only!”

 “Don’t be so sure about that, pal.” His voice said back. Leo turned towards the sound’s direction and saw his own face looking back at him.

 Leo stared at him, then turned back to look at his brothers. “Not to worry you guys, but I think I hit my head worse than I thought.” It was probably the concussion. Yeah.

 His brothers glanced at each other, nervous. Oh, they were worried. He didn’t miss how Raph glanced at the other Leo too.

 “Guys, I’ll be okay, no big deal.” Leo tried, but the pain wasn’t helping. Ugh, he really wanted to get over this and figure out what was wrong with his body right now. “It is just a few injuries—”

 “Shell cracked, wounds on right leg and also broken, rib damaged and a broken bone. A few minor wounds. The rest is nothing that won’t heal in a day or two.” His other self interrupted.

  Oh it talks too! How great. “I wasn’t talking to you, halluci-leon.” Leo huffed. “You’d expect yourself to understand that.”

 Other Leo rolled his eyes, “You’d expect the stranger doppelganger of yours connect the dots faster, but here we are.”

 “Leo! Be nice to yourself!” Mikey scolded.

 “He can handle a few jokes.”

 “You are seeing him too?” Leo turned his attention back to his brothers. Mikey nodded, so Leo asked the next logical thing: “Ooookay, what did Donnie do this time?”

 Donnie gasped, a bit dramatically in Leo’s opinion, “How dare you too! As if I’ve ever broken Papa’s rules.”

 Everyone in the medbay turned to him, various expressions of disbelief on their faces.

 “You all are terrible.” Donnie crossed his arms.

 “Love you back, Dee. Anyway,” Other Leo looked back to Leo, “I don’t think Donnie did something this time.”

 “Then what’s going on?”

 “We were hopping you’d tell us.” Other Leo said. “You’re not a Casey Junior case, are you?”

 “Uh, no.” Leo noticed the relieved breaths.

 “Are you a clone?” Donnie asked.

 “No.”

 “Are you a shapeshifting alien that fell from the sky via a meteor and is trying to trick us to eat us and then replace us with your kind?”

 “No. Mikey, what the heck?”

 “Okay, this doesn’t make any sense if you keep saying no.” Other Leo groaned.

 “It is not like I don’t want to help here.” Leo glared at him. He was as lost as they were, and it lowkey began making him feel rather anxious. “How about we try different questions?”

 “Good idea. Uh, what year is it for you?” Raph asked.

 Leo smiled. Big guy most likely had an idea. “2020.”

 “You know Casey Junior, so did the invasion happen?”

 “Kicked Krang butts, stopped it from happening.” It sounded so simple when he said it like that.

 “How long did it pass since that?”

 “Well, you see, I just got out of the Prison Dimension.”

 “YOU DID WHAT?!”

 “WHAT?!”

 “OMIGOSH.”

 Yelling and his other self looking at him in shock. This went on better than he expected.

 “How did... what...” He mumbled before taking a deep breath, “How did you get outta there?”

 “Portaled myself out...” Leo replied, a bit distracted by how everyone reacted. “Am I missing something? Like I get it, it was a dangerous decision and all that but this is not the reaction I was expecting.”

 “You are looking almost all fine, for the starters.” Other Leo said, “I wasn’t as good looking as you buddy. Congrats avoiding some punches, good for you!”

 “Not just that, but did you say you portaled yourself out?!” Raph gasped.

 “You didn’t even have the time to progress everything that happened to you!” Mikey exclaimed.

 Amongst the worried talking, Donnie interrupted. “Gentlemen, do you realize what does this mean?”

 “What?” Leo was going to handle the other information later.

 All eyes turned to Donnie. “Your portaling has malfuctioned and you ended up in the wrong timeline.” He explained.

 Leo blinked. Portaled myself to the wrong timeline?! “Are you sure about that?”

 “That’s the most likely theory I got.” Donnie confirmed. “We need to get on some details to confirm it though.”

 “Maybe Draxum or Junior can help too, right?” Mikey smiled.

 “If we ever need help, perhaps.” Donnie was still not fond of the idea of asking for help from Draxum, but this was a better answer than the ones they’d gotten in the past months.

 “At least that explains some things...” Other Leo sighed.

 Leo was glad for the answers, but unfortunately, the answers didn’t help his worries. Made them worse even. “I need to go back.” He tried to get up, but Raph stopped him.

 “You can’t until you heal properly.” He said softly.

 “Raph, I know you mean well, but I need to go back to my timeline.” To his timeline, and to his family. To his brothers and sister and father and friends, who were all beat up and probably mourning him.

 To his family, to the place he belonged.

 “I don’t think you can portal yourself back like this. You might end up hurting yourself worse.” Other Leo said. “Trust me, just stay like this for a week. With how Draxum created us, your bones will heal in no time. So will your shell. I am sure your ninpo needs healing too.”

 “My ninpo?”

 “Overuse of ninpo can be damaging.” Mikey informed.

 Leo wondered how did he know this. Or why.

 As if he read his mind, Mikey elaborated. “Casey Junior explained that in the future because of the overuse of ninpo his Mikey suffered a lot from side effects. Draxum agreed too.”

 “What sort of side effects?” Leo asked.

 “Wounds on body, damaging your ninpo extremely badly, aging faster...” Mikey began counting.

 “Aaaand that’s why I must run some tests on you.” Donnie interrupted, goggles on his eyes.

 Tests didn’t sound fun right now, “They better be quick.”

 “I don’t think you should worry.” Other Leo said. “Though that explains the wounds in your hands.”

 What wounds..? Leo turned to look at his hands, bandaged. He didn’t feel any pain, but it was probably the painkiller. Good to see it was starting to work. Then he looked at Mikey again. His arms, the strange wounds—

 “Are those scars from overuse of ninpo?” Leo was looking directly at Mikey.

 He avoided his eyes, “Yes.”

 “What happened?” Was it during the Krang attack? After? Did his Mikey get those wounds, or could he stop that?

 Silence.

 Now, that won’t do. He was wounded, tired, and confused. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them. “Okay. Since no one is talking I guess it was bad. Did that happen during the Krang invasion attempt?”

 Raph sighed, “Yes, it did. But I am not sure this is the right time to talk about this.”

 “No, it is! I need to know, so when I go back, I can help.”

 “I don’t think you can do that.” His other version said. “That happens while you’re in the prison dimension. Or rather, probably around the time you escaped or shortly after that. Donnie, correct me if I am wrong, but even if after a week he manages to portal himself back at the same time he left, there isn’t much of a chance he can stop it, right?”

 Donnie hummed, “I don’t think he can even manage to go back to the time he left. Though time is a tricky concept, and there are many theories, and—”

 “Alright, alright, I get it. Fine.” Leo was so not in the place to listen to detailed explanations of time and space. Not when his mind was getting more and more nervous. “So let’s say I can’t go back for a week like you said, I need to know. Post Krang, what happened? What have I caused to change?”

 Did I put anyone in danger again?

 They clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Couldn’t blame them. Leo wanted to forget that day too, but he couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know his family’s fate.

 Finally other Leo took a step forward, “I wasn’t able to keep my katanas. I got trapped in the Prison Dimension with... him.” Leo watched as other Leo stopped for a brief second. “I am not sure for how long, but until Mikey ripped space and time to save my butt.” He smiled towards his little brother, “Our mystic warrior, Raph, and Donnie got me out. Closed the portal. Raph had some scars, he and Donnie both had similar wounds to Mikey’s on an arm but it wasn’t anything too serious. Even Mikey’s healed pretty fast. Donnie was stubborn but Mikey told us about his shell, some wounds there, but it was all stuff they can do without us. Dad, April, Junior, they all were fine too.”

 Those were good news. No major injuries that they’d need his help. Good.

 “To be honest, it was me who was beat up badly. So in your timeline that does not happen.” Other Leo turned his attention back to Leo, “Like I said, lucky.”

 Leo cringed, “Eugh boi, glad I wasn’t you. No offense.”

 “None taken.”

 There was something Leo wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t want to dig into that. Not when his brothers were here. It could be something that should stay between Leos.

 “How’s the scan, Don?” Other Leo turned to his twin, who no longer wore his goggles.

 “I couldn’t find anything new.” Donnie replied.

 “Good! Then you can go back home right after you heal, but we should probably ask Draxum first.”

 Mikey was right, but that didn’t mean Leo was happy about that. He wasn’t fond of Draxum’s company as much as his twin. “Just make sure he does not throw me off the roof or the window or something.”

 “You are never gonna let it go, will you?” Raph asked, most likely tired of hearing the same thing again and again after almost two years of the event. Too bad for him, he was going to hear it for forever.

 Both Leos answered at the same time: “Nope!”

 Donnie glared at them, “There is two of them now. We are doomed.”

 Mikey’s face lit up with realization, “We still haven’t figured out how to call you, other Leo!”

 “Easy, Lameonardo.” Raph teased.

 “Come on Raph, you can do better than this.” Leo smirked.

 “I think other me deserves a great title, like World’s Greatest Ninja.” Other Leo joined.

 “We are so not calling any of you like that. Never.” Donnie glared.

 “How about something silly, like uhh Poptart?” Mikey suggested.

 “Poptart?” Leo repeated.

 “I am hungry.” Mikey shrugged. “How about uh- double marked Leo?”

 “Double marked?” Leo asked.

 “Because there are two Leos and that makes double marks!” Mikey grinned.

 “Sorry Mike, but that doesn’t make any sense at all. Maybe if he had some sort of extra markings then maybe it could work.” Other Leo replied.

 “What was the Spanish word... tio? Ah no...” Raph struggled to remember.

 Meanwhile, Leo cringed, “Please don’t call me tio, it literally means uncle.”

 “I was trying to find the word for brother.” Raph explained.

 “Hermano. But I dunno, not really a nickname.” Leo hummed.

 “You know, we could call you Neon.” Other Leo said. “Like... Neon Leon. But you’re the Neon and I am the Leon.”

 Leo smiled at him. Like the name he had chosen for the video game records. “That’s not bad, other me.”

 “Thank you other me.” Other Leo made a dramatic bow. No- Leon made a dramatic bow. Right.

 One week. He had to wait for a week, and then he could go home. He could do that. All he wished was that his family would wait for a week too. Just one week.

 Donnie had never felt like this before. He didn’t exactly know what this feeling was. Worry? Sadness? Anger? Desperation? Maybe it was all of them together.

 His dumdum twin had just sacrificed himself.

 Not only that, but his dumdum twin’s tracker didn’t work. Donnie couldn’t see his vitals or his location!

 "I don't understand!" Donnie kept staring at his screen. The lights representing his family shone brightly, except for blue. There was nothing blue on the screen. Nothing to prove Leo was back. Nothing to prove Leo was alright. "We saw him get into that portal. He must be somewhere, there is no possibility of the tracker not working."

 "Maybe while fighting against Krang it got broken or something." Mikey tried to reassure. 

 "Maybe." Donnie repeated. 

 "Well, if he isn't here then he must've portaled somewhere safe." Raph said, no longer upset about Donnie putting trackers on them. "Maybe Dad and April are luckier. Donnie, you keep trying to find him."

 Donnie nodded, determined eyes fixated on the screen and his hands tapping it without a break.

 As Raph was about to move, he heard the call coming from April. "Found him?"

 "No, so you didn't either." April's voice sounded worried.

 This didn’t make any sense. None of this made sense. Where the heck was Leo?!

 "He isn't here." Raph replied, trying to keep his anxiety under control.

 "But where he could've gone?" Mikey questioned.

 "He has some favorite places, doesn't he?" April said. "We can check them."

 "He wasn't in his best shape, he might have accidentally portaled himself to somewhere randomly like the old days." Raph agreed. 

 "I hope he didn't portal himself to Tahiti." Mikey sighed. "Not the worst place but…"

 "How about the Hidden City? Or Hueso's?" Raph guessed. "I don't think he's somewhere hard to reach. We just need to keep searching!"

 "You are right, my son. We must keep searching." Splinter's voice said softly.

 Raph smiled at Mikey, then at Donnie. That's when he noticed the concern on Donnie's face. "Donnie?"

 He didn't answer. Instead, he kept staring at the screen.

 "Donnie, are you okay? You're worrying me." Raph watched as Donnie took a deep breath. 

 Then he finally said, "He might have portaled home." 

 "What? We just searched the whole lair." Raph didn't understand.

 "We did. But our lair. Our timeline's. What if he didn't portal to our world. Then he would end up portaling into a different universe or timeline, and that would explain why I can't find him no matter what I do! Because even broken I'd get signals! I did the design and coding and everything, I know how it works!" 

 "Donnie, what are you talking about?" 

 "Remember how Casey came from a different timeline? This might have created an issue in time and space and with Leo's messy portaling the dum dum might have ended up in a whole different timeline." He told them. “Or maybe it is something about ninpo and the dumdum mystic stuff! I don’t know, but he has portaled somewhere out of this planet at least once! You saw that too. And that is exactly why there is a possibility he has done that or something similar again.” 

 Donnie had seen how Leo had opened a portal purely by accident and ended up getting them almost eaten by some sort of creature while trying to escape from Stockboy’s plan. They had spent nights talking about how far he could portal. This should be the answer.

 Because any other answer would mean there was something worse happening. Donnie refused to believe anything worse was happening.

 Raph and Mikey looked at him, both looked even more worried now.

 “If it is really that… Then what will we do?” Mikey asked.

 “We keep searching,” Raph said. “But in case Donnie is right, we must prepare for that. What do you need, Donnie?”

 Donnie thought for a second. “I need to start doing some research and gain some information. I already had a plan for a dimension travel machine, but we need to be sure Leo is not here. Also it would be great if there is any more information I can gain about his mystic powers…”

 “I’ll try to reach Draxum.” Mikey announced.

 Donnie was relieved, “Thanks Angelo.” He really really didn’t want to ask for help from the yokai. 

 “Boys, I know it is hard but now I want you to stay there and treat your wounds.” Their dad said after a deep breath. “April, Future Boy and I can keep searching.”

 “But—”

 “Raphael,” Splinter interrupted again. “We will find him, but I cannot lose any of you too.”

 Raph seemed to be still upset, but he sighed and gave up fighting against Splinter. “Okay. We will join you as soon as we can.” He nodded to himself.

 Donnie glared at Raph. How could he give up so fast? Leo might need them! They didn’t know how much time they had! What if he was hurt? What if he needed them? What if they were losing time—

 “Donnie?”

 Donnie looked at Raph.

 “Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely worried. Again.

 “We must keep searching. Or at least try to gain more information.” Donnie said.

 “We will, but first we must treat our wounds. Dad’s right about that.”

 “And what if he is in the need of our help? What if he right now needs us?” Donnie retorted, voice a bit loud.

 “We can’t help him if our wounds get infected.” Raph pointed out. “If anything happens to us, we can’t help him.”

 “We can try and communicate with Draxum meanwhile.” Mikey said gently.

 “We will go back into searching right after taking care of our wounds, okay?” Raph reassured. “I am worried too, so the faster we get this done, the better.”

 He was right, and as Mikey said the time they would use to treat their wounds wouldn’t be fully wasted if they managed to reach Draxum. “Okay.”

 “Good. That’s a plan. Now, to the medbay.” Raph led them.

 Donnie slowly followed, trusting Raph’s words.

 That was a plan. A plan so they’d find him. Donnie knew they would. Because none of them would ever stop till they did. After all, they had hope. 

#that gif is so funny to me look at his face #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #nighty write y #nighty writey #fanfiction #dimension hopper leo au #i really need a better title for this fic sfuhısjgjfs #also I think I forgot to post chapter 1 here oh no #challenge: find all the nickname references :3 #also this isnt proofread so... yeah if you see a mistake thats why oops

[trilobi-te]

Chipspeech Twitter Archive Update

Hi I should have done this months ago.. I do not know when (or if) I am going to finish that website lmao. So I am just going to share my notes from Google Docs. Should be easier to read than the original posts and helpful as a starting point if anyone else decides to make a website :3

The documents are all on commenting mode so feel free to make comments to bookmark things for yourself or write your thoughts or whatever. Under the cut I have put some formatting notes.

It's a folder, each year of Twitter posts is its own document (I tried to compile them into one but it lagged too much). There is also a document with all of the original Tumblr posts (from the accounts I could find, no tags yet but I will go back and get them eventually, also no dates but they're all from 2015), and one with the bios from the official website for ease of access.

The formatting is a little (a lot) weird and there are probably pictures that need resizing/transcription but I figured it's better to give people access now. The text is small (to keep the page count as low as possible) so you will have to zoom in.

It goes by day, organized with a bulleted list. The top level bullets are each character that tweeted that day. The second level bullets are original tweets/retweets by that character. The third+ level bullets are comment threads under that tweet, the organization here is inconsistent but imo still readable (if you think something needs an edit for clarity let me know and I'll fix it).

For each character's section of the list, normal text is that character's tweets/comments. Italicized text is anyone who is not that character. If it is labeled with unitalicized text, it is that character/important account (e.g. the official Chipspeech account), otherwise it is a fan. I also included some labels and/or clarifying comments for Vocaloid producers I like, they're not central to the story though

I got rid of the line breaks within the tweets when copying them down because it was easier to format. Sorry about that. Idk how to fix it other than going through everything again but it doesn't take away from the story so I'm leaving it for now.

If something came from a website other than Twitter, I tried to provide the link (unless its content was deleted). I did my best to transcribe the Clyp posts that were not deleted.

If something is a text-only retweet, it is marked with [retweet]. If it includes an image, it's probably a screenshot of the whole thing. I only included retweets that felt story-relevant (so no miscellaneous cat pictures, Apple-related aesthetic images, etc.), but if people really want it I can go back and add the rest.

Deleted tweets are noted with [deleted tweet], with the characters they came from if applicable. Idk how Twitter works but it the person in the thread is replying to the username of a certain character, I assumed it was that character's tweet that had been deleted. If something says [deleted Dandy thread], assume there is a deleted Dandy tweet in between each of the listed tweets (or another character, but it's usually Dandy). That was meant to be a temporary time-saver and I've gone back and fixed the ones I've found, but there's probably more I accidentally skipped.

Anything not in English is translated in a comment. Except the X-Sampa (I will fix that sometime but there's not much of it). Also it was done with the built-in Google Translate feature so it may be a little incorrect. Unclear pictures and whatnot also have clarifying comments. I can add more clarifying comments (or image IDs) if anyone needs them.

I tried not to include any unattributed fanart but there are some that I forgot to copy the handle for (I am also fixing these when I find them).

As for any future updates to this folder as a whole, I kind of want to go back through each account's liked tweets to see if there's anything funny in there but idk when that will be. That would probably be its own document.

Honestly I should have given everyone access back in June.. oops. If you have any questions you can put them in a comment on this post (or reach out to me another way, idk). As I mentioned before, feel free to use all of this as a starting point if you're making your own website.

I'll pin this post so it's findable in the future. Also sorry for disappearing for several months (it will happen again).

#chipspeech #chipspeech archive #posts by the bug

[irondad-defensesquad]

The perks of being a wallflower - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Also on AO3! (Starts from first chapter)

TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter) - mentions of suicidal thoughts and self-harm

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

Weird. Apparently, the kid left earlier today, according to Happy. Peter is in school.

Tony has been feeling a little guilty for telling Peter to go to bed the way he did. Although Peter wasn’t in any condition to be in the workshop, the teen looked pretty drained. Not just physically but emotionally as well.

Thus, Tony thought he could make some nice breakfast for Peter. But then he found the boy’s bedroom empty. Peter must have left in a rush since he left his room messy. It’s not like him to leave without saying anything to Tony.

Regardless, the man starts organizing Peter’s things, like the bed and the abandoned clothes everywhere. The entire time, Tony tries to figure out what’s going on.

That is, when a white envelope lying on Peter’s desk catches his attention. Especially the big “Mr. Stark” written on it.

Huh, so he left Tony a letter? Peter usually texts him or calls him when he needs Tony.

The man carefully opens it, finding a handwritten letter. It looks messy but still readable. And the paper seems to have… dried teardrops. Quite a few of them.

“Dear Tony,

Dear Mr. Stark,

I’m so sorry I was messing everything up in the lab. I didn’t mean to make you angry.

I’m not feeling very good lately, for some reason. I mean, everything is better now, right? I love coming over and building things with you. That’s my favorite part of the week. But I’ve been feeling so bad, worse than I’ve felt in a while. I wanted to cry so badly and I didn’t want you to see me like this, because it’s not your fault, Mr. Stark.

I’m so tired. I want to die again. Or cut myself again. But F.R.I.DA.Y would let you know and you would probably get angrier with me.

So I’m gonna leave in the morning, okay? Maybe I should be alone for a while. You don’t want to deal with me like this. Again, I’m really sorry I ruined our time together.

I guess I’ll see you around.

Love Sincerely,

Peter”

…

Oh my god.

This is why Peter was feeling so off yesterday. Tony just assumed Peter was being irresponsible and not getting enough sleep. But the signs were so clear. And Tony didn’t even bother to check in on the kid.

He immediately takes his phone again to text Peter. He decides not to call in case Peter is in class right now.

Tony: Hey kid

Tony: You’re at school, right?

Well, the GPS says he’s in Midtown. Then again, Peter could abandon his phone somewhere or hack it like he did his Spider-Man suit before. In the meantime, Tony asks Happy if the driver noticed anything off about Peter. Happy only says that he noticed the kid was quieter than usual, but he just assumed Peter was tired.

Eventually, probably during Peter’s morning break, Tony gets a reply.

Peter: sup

Peter: yeah why?

Thank goodness.

Tony: I was just wondering if we could grab a bite after school’s over. Sounds fun, right?

The typing dots take a while to appear.

Peter: uh sure

Peter: is everything ok mr stark?

Tony: Of course, kiddo. I just miss you.

Peter: you literally saw me yesterday

Tony: Well, you left without even eating my masterchef breakfast.

Peter: you always burn the pancakes lol

Tony: Shush, that only happened once.

Peter may be joking around but Tony knows better than that.

Tony: Okay, I’ll pick you up then we can eat whatever you want. Sounds good?

Peter: ok mr stark

Tony: Alright. Sorry to bug you. See you later, kid.

Peter: see ya

Now Tony will only see Peter at 3 PM. He’ll just have to know what he’s going to do when they see each other again.

--

Tony is waiting inside the car, watching all the kids leaving school. Then he sees Peter talking to Ned. He’s smiling and laughing with his best friend. It all feels like any ordinary day… except Tony is keeping Peter’s letter with him.

Peter and Ned do that handshake of theirs, not without Ned staring at Tony’s car with amazement. He waves hello despite not being able to see Tony from outside due to the windows.

Regardless, Peter gets in the car with his usual casual smile. Though he seems a little suspicious of Tony’s sudden invitation.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter says regardless.

“Hey, kid. Did you have a good day?”

“I guess so.”

Tony is unable to really hide his concern, so Peter’s smile fades quickly.

“Okay, Mr. Stark, what’s all this about?” He doesn’t ask impatiently, he just doesn’t understand. He’s not even expecting Tony to apologize to him for being rude to Peter. Because he believes it’s his fault for not feeling well.

Tony sighs deeply, taking a moment before revealing the envelope, which was carefully closed again.

“... I read your letter.”

Peter’s eyes widen like never before. He snatches the envelope quickly.

“What?! No, you weren’t”– Peter looks like he wants to tear the letter into pieces –“You weren’t supposed to read it!”

“What do you mean? It was on your desk and it had my name,” Tony gently points out.

“No, I forgot it there! I was supposed to take it with me!”

“But you still wanted to tell me something, right?”

Peter groans, angrier at himself than anything. Tony almost puts a hand on his shoulder but he doesn’t know if that’s going to help.

“This is so embarrassing,” the teen says, wanting to cry.

“Kid–”

“No, I mean…”

Peter takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Ever since I was a kid, I would… write letters to you. I did send you the first ones but that was a long time ago. I knew you wouldn’t reply ‘cause you had more important things to do… but I kept writing more and more, imagining you’d be able to read them somehow. These letters got a lot more personal and no one else knew about them, not even Aunt May or Ned… or my uncle. I stopped writing them when I became Spider-Man because I wouldn’t really have time, and well… I got to know you, so why keep writing letters, right?”

The teenager starts letting out tears. He tries to hide them.

“But this last week… I dunno what happened. I started feeling really bad again. I was afraid of telling you that and I screwed up. So I thought it’d be better if I left before I ruined everything for good.”

Now, Tony squeezes his shoulder.

“Peter…”

“I-I didn’t, like… plan to do anything against myself. But I’m still thinking about it. Things are gonna get bad again and I don’t want them to. I wish I could stop it for once.”

The moment Peter starts sobbing, Tony pulls him in a hug.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry I’m such a mess…”

“Shhh… I’m sorry I got angry with you, kid. I should’ve talked to you.”

“It’s not your fault…”

“It’s not your fault, kid. You deserve to be heard.”

Peter is shaking his head but he’s not protesting. His tensions slowly disappear as he returns the hug. He just sinks in it completely, like he’s been wanting a hug from Tony for years.

“You can tell me when you’re not feeling well. I promise I’ll listen and try to help you,” the man reassures him.

“I just don’t wanna lose you, Mr. Stark…”

“You won’t. I’ll be here for you, okay?”

Peter lets go of a breath he’s been holding back this whole time.

“Okay.”

Tony squeezes him a little tighter.

Eventually, they let go.

Peter’s face is tear-stained and red all over. He’s contemplating the envelope in his hands, not wanting to destroy it anymore.

“So… you mean you wrote more letters to me?” Tony asks.

“Oh, man… I wrote a lot. And they’re so embarrassing. If you already find my rambles annoying, they only get worse in the letters.”

“Well, I love your rambles, kid.”

Peter smiles shyly.

“I think I lost some with how often I moved,” he reflects. “But most of them are with me.”

“Hmm.”

Silence.

“... do you really want to read them?” Peter doubts.

“Only if you’re alright with it. I would love to know you better, but you don’t need to show them to me if you’re not comfortable.”

There’s a spark in Peter’s eyes, which must come from his child self, that actually really wants Tony to know what he has in mind. The kind of things he couldn’t translate into any other way.

“I could… um… send them to you at some point. There are a lot of letters. It’s okay if you can’t read all of them and like I said, they’re really cringy and dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.”

“Still, Mr. Stark.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen my letters. I’m actually bad at them.”

Peter rolls his eyes at his mentor, who takes them to Delmar’s. They get some sandwiches and chat for a bit. Then Tony points out Peter shouldn’t be on his own when he has suicidal or self-harming thoughts. Especially considering May hasn’t been home often due to her night shifts. Therefore, Tony offers Peter to stay with him for a while, so he has company and safety. There are also doctors that can help him if Peter needs them.

Tony admits he’s a little surprised that the boy accepts the offer. But of course, he’s relieved that Peter is accepting help.

His stay lasts a week or so. Peter slowly feels better again, so he goes back home, promising he’ll keep in touch.

Soon, Tony receives a huge box of letters.

Peter jokes with a sticky note, “Careful! Fragile”.

Tony will certainly read all of these.

--

Dear Peter,

Hey, buddy! I’m only a couple years late. Better now than never, right?

I’ve read nearly all of your letters and I will finish the remaining ones. I am definitely going to reply to every single one of them, just you wait. But I would like to tell you a few things first.

I want to thank you for all your letters and for sending them to me. I’m glad I could help you feel less lonely in a way. I know you don’t have it easy, kid.

I also wanted to remind you, it’s not your fault. You were struggling with so many things at once, especially with your powers. You always did the best you could, and you keep doing your best. You don’t know how proud I am of you.

Finally, thank you for being you. You are so talented, Peter. My greatest honor is getting to know you, including your sad parts. You can trust me with them. I hope I never make you doubt that again.

Many hugs,

Tony

P.S.: Do you still have that mini arc reactor you built? That would be the greatest birthday present ever.

P.S.2: Do you have your camera? I want to see your photos as well. Hell, when I thought you couldn’t be more talented…

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #suicide mention tw #suicidal thoughts tw #self-harm mention tw #self harm mention tw #sh mention tw

[ineffably-poetic]

rough draft of a short fic i wrote changing the ending of good omens season 2

because we need something happy.

let me know if you want me to make this better!! i don’t mind it right now, but i probably won’t put too much work into it unless you guys wanna read it :)

spoilers for season 2 episode 6 below! (+the rest of the season.)

[begin.]

“Oh. Oh, God. Right,” Crowley muttered to himself, practically pacing. Go back to Heaven? Was Aziraphale out of his mind?

He tried to compose himself. The angel was watching him a few feet away, his eyes now completely devoid of his earlier excitement. He looked dejected, like a puppy dog on the side of the road someone had kicked. 

He sighed. “I didn’t get a chance to say what I was going to say, and I think I’ve better say it now,” he explained. He could barely breathe. Go back to Heaven? He would rather die, which was impossible as he was immortal, so it wasn’t an easy conclusion to come to. But it was true. 

“We’ve known each other a long time.” Crowley began, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Aziraphale stared, his expression so painfully readable it made Crowley glance away. It said something along the lines of What are you doing? I thought you would make the right choice. But you’re not.

“We’ve been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We’re a team, a group. A group of the two of us,” Crowley clarified. His words were getting shaky and clustered. This was all going wrong. So, so, so extremely wrong. 

“And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t.” Here, Crowley’s eyes began to burn. He would not cry in front of his angel, not right now, and, if he had a say in things, not ever. He blinked hard and continued, not daring to look at Aziraphale’s face. 

“I mean, the last few years, not really. And I would like to spend…” In his head he said eternity, but all that came out was a frustrated and defeated grumble. Aziraphale was still watching. Every word that Crowley said seemed to make him flinch a little bit further away. 

“I mean. If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can.”

If all this ends up in a pile of burning goo, we could go off together!

“We don’t need Heaven, we don’t need Hell, they’re toxic! We need to get away from them. Just be an us.”

Go off… together?

“You and me. What do you say?”

Crowley was so tired. So tired of being shut down and pushed away and told he was going too fast. Because, after six thousand years, when did too fast become slow?

And he was tired of Aziraphale being blind to how terrible Heaven was. And Hell, but since Crowley had long ago vowed to keep Aziraphale as far away from there as possible, he didn’t worry too much about them. (Crowley made this vow after their body-swap. Aziraphale seeing that place once was bad enough.)

Aziraphale did not see this. Instead, he stepped closer, his face mere inches from Crowley’s. He was disappointed, Crowley saw it in his eyes. 

“Come with me. To Heaven. We can make a difference.”

God, Satan, oh— Someone. Aziraphale could be so dense sometimes. 

“You can’t leave this bookshop.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, and something in the way he said his name made Crowley’s heart melt a bit. He ignored it. He was good at that, after six thousand years of pretending it didn’t exist. 

“Nothing lasts forever.”

Crowley’s stomach dropped. “No. No, I don’t suppose it does.”

He sighed and slid his glasses onto his face. There was no point. No way to convince his angel, his only friend, that he was making the wrong choice. 

And, even though Crowley told himself it was only because he wanted Aziraphale safe, it also was, just a little bit, because it hurt to see Aziraphale choose Heaven over him. (Little did he know, Aziraphale was beginning to question his decision.)

It’ll be like the old times, but even nicer. 

And, of course, Crowley couldn’t be nice. He was a demon after all—incapable of love or emotion. (This sentence is meant to be read as sarcasm. This note is for Shax, if she is reading this, as she is still getting a grasp on the concept.)

So he muttered, “Good luck,” and turned to leave. 

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale’s voice nearly stopped him. He pushed on. 

“Crowley, come back!”

Crowley paused mid step. 

“To Heaven.”

Crowley gritted his teeth and turned around. He could have been furious right now, if he had had the energy. Instead he was just empty. 

“I need you! And I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you.”

He didn’t understand? Oh, far from it, Angel. “I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”

“Well.” Aziraphale looked away. “Then there’s nothing more to say.” 

What was it that Crowley had heard the other day? A song, right. About nightingales. It had reminded him of Aziraphale. Of their last trip to the Ritz. 

“Listen. Do you hear that?” He asked softly. 

Aziraphale, evidently distressed: “I don’t hear anything!”

“That’s the point.” This time he didn’t finish that sentence with some drunken spiel about whales or gorillas or any other stupid things he had discussed with Aziraphale—in this very bookshop, in fact. Instead he said: “No nightingales.”

Aziraphale went still.

“You idiot,” Crowley exclaimed. “We could have been us.”

He wasn’t thinking when he said that, and he definitely wasn’t thinking when he walked forward, grabbed Aziraphale by the collar, and kissed him. 

Crowley’s mind replayed every moment they’d shared together, faster than a rollercoaster, and very much against his will. Making the stars, Eden, Mesopotamia, Job’s house, Jesus’ crucifixion, oysters in Rome, seeing Hamlet, crepes in Paris, body-snatching, their 19th century argument, the Blitz and Aziraphale’s magic show, the Holy Water, stopping Armageddon. He pulled away and stared at Aziraphale, waiting. Waiting for a reaction. Waiting for rejection.

Which never came. 

Instead, a breathless but otherwise hopeful sounding Aziraphale said, “Crowley, my dear. I never realized you were holding back so much emotion all this time.” He reached up and wiped a tear off of Crowley’s cheek. 

Oh, fuck. He had started to cry. Crowley was frozen, both numb and feeling every emotion known in the universe at once. 

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale added, his words heavy with so much affection and regret simultaneously. He had stepped a bit closer to the demon. “I do hope you can forgive me.”

“But- But what about the Metatron,” Crowley whispered. He had to know Aziraphale was staying. “What about making me an Angel?”

“I’m not going, my dear,” Aziraphale assured him. He reached out and took both of Crowley’s hands in his own. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was wrong. So very, very wrong. You are a demon, not an angel.”

Crowley shivered at the contact but did his best to muster out the next few words. “You swear it.”

“I swear it,” Aziraphale confirmed, “on us.”

Crowley almost sobbed. Us. 

“I, uh, I’m sorry about this,” Crowley muttered. “I mean, crying and pouring all of this on you at once.”

“Dear, you have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who, well, made a few mistakes. Trying to make you go back to Heaven. And I’m still not sure what to do about them or Hell. Or what to think.” He paused. “But I know I’m on your side. Even if nothing really makes sense yet.”

“Our side, Angel,” Crowley laughed between sniffs. “Remember that.”

Aziraphale smiled gently. “We won’t get lonely like we used to.”

“No, we certainly won’t.”

[end.]

#long post #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens oneshot #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens au #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #gos2spoilers #spoilers #good omens spoilers #thinking about adding Aziraphale’s POV + making it longer :)