#its just. poof empty head

[puppycharmz]

spy is so sus. sus as fuck .

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer jealous with an artist!reader

・❥ You’re invited to a prestigious art show to impress Hell’s royalty with your skills, but someone isn’t a fan of all the attention on you.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n.

~ 10.1k words

warnings: SMUT!! Adult themes!

Being in a relationship with the King of Hell has its perks. Such as being able to skip any line at LuLu World, or not needing to make reservations months in advance to the most high-end restaurant in Pentagram City. And, of course, being able to buy anything in the entirety of Hell in the snap of a finger, or, make it, if your man is feeling extra creative that day.

The neatest one? Being able to jump across the Seven Rings of Hell. Sinners are usually confined to the Pride Ring for the entirety of their afterlife, anyone who attempts to leave would get obliterated by the magical security system that detects ring-hoppers. You had never seen it work in person, but the stories made it sound excruciatingly painful. But, no one had ever survived getting vaporized to be able to tell of their experience, so, you weren’t sure whether that was true or not.

These thoughts were plaguing your mind as you sat comfortably in the back of a clean, white limo. Its tinted windows, gold rims, and apple hood ornament screamed ‘Hell’s royalty’ as some onlookers gave the pimped-out vehicle a double-take as it rolled through traffic.

You had tried to argue against taking the conspicuous mode of transportation, opting for the lift that was commonly used by demons to travel across the rings. You most likely wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention or suspicion, since you looked like an average, everyday demon residing in Hell.

“Hop in an elevator with Heaven knows what kind of creepy people you’ll be pushed up against? Not going to happen,” Lucifer shook his head sternly at the idea, “I’m not risking your safety just because 

You had held your tongue after that, realizing you weren’t going to win when it came to Lucifer’s protectiveness of your wellbeing. Besides, the limo looked nice as it waited patiently outside of the hotel a few hours after the big breakfast you had shared with the residents of the hotel.

The inside was nice too, the red, leather seats so plush you were practically sinking into the furniture as you sipped on an alcoholic beverage. There was a minibar nestled between some cushions across from you, bottles of expensive red wine secured on racks next to clean, empty drinking glasses. 

A large stereo sat at the back of the limo, with tall speakers that flickered with an array of colors waiting idly for your touch. A small TV hung from the car’s ceiling, and you flicked through the channels mindlessly as you held your phone to one ear.

“Just let the driver do his thing, you’ll barely feel the portal before poof! You’re in the Greed Ring.” Lucifer assured over the phone as the white limo sped towards the edge of the ring. 

“And I won’t get turned to goo or anything?” 

“Not on my watch!” He spoke confidently. You could hear faint voices in the background, which meant he must still be at the hotel. “Trust me, love, you’ll be fine. But, maybeee you wouldn’t be so nervous if you had someone with you like… the King of Hell?” 

Rolling your eyes, you snorted quietly trying to hold in a laugh. Lucifer had been bugging you all day about barring him from joining you, but you steeled yourself against his begging, some plans, and preparations needed to be done as soon as you got to Greed. Having Lucifer along would no doubt distract you, especially with the sultry gazes he’d been throwing at you quite often lately, and you needed to get your game on for tonight.

“I told you, I’ve got dinner plans with some of the other artists, and there's work to be done at the venue. Tonight is very important, I can’t mess anything up.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, you’ve got this in the bag, baby.”

Heat crept to your cheeks at his compliment, and you smiled out the windows of the limo, your eyes following the winding road toward a large tunnel in the distance. Was that the portal entrance? It was the only thing out here in this barren part of the ring, and it was only growing closer in view as the limo sped on.

Soon, you’d be in Greed, one more step towards the big art show tonight. Your mind drifted back to the matters at hand, your nerves intensifying as you sat deep in thought.

Tonight, was the annual art fair and exhibition, ‘Elysium in Hell’. A famous, grandeur display of well-known and talented artists coming together to sell and showcase their pieces. Their skills with the brush and oils would also be compared fiercely, judged by the leading in the practice that usually dictated how well an artist’s pieces sell during the night.

When hosting the most wealthy and powerful beings in Hell, one had to know whether someone’s creations were truly worth the large price tag. 

It had only ever been a dream, for you to even attend a gathering of such nobility. This was the kind of place you’d find the Seven Deadly Sins, like Lucifer, were strolling around places like these for fun. When to you, and other artists, it was the opportunity of a lifetime to make your passion a really good career. As in, spending the rest of your days lounging in your villa’s pool, finding your painting inspiration by looking out into the expanse of the ‘this view cost me a lot of goddamn money’ scenery. 

It was a chance to put your work out there, farther than the hotel, farther than Asmodeus’ club. Maybe, into a Goetia’s office, or a Sin’s bedroom! That was the dream, to have people appreciate and feast on your craft, while also making really good money from it.

It must have been Asmodeus who got your name on the list since he really seemed to enjoy your more explicit paintings. Lucifer also could have used his influence too, but you hoped that wasn't the case. You wanted your success to be based on your effort, not someone’s pretty words.

Would Lucifer even do that? After all, it was he who was more inclined to keep your relationship a secret. At least, secret to everyone outside of the hotel. It was hard to keep a secret from them, especially when the manager of the place was the man-you-were-courting’s daughter. 

It was something about the press down here being very brutal, and the fact you’d be in the public eye and under its scrutiny constantly. Unless, you become a shut-in hermit for the rest of your life, and while you enjoy the solitude, you don’t how long you could be stuck inside before growing depressed. Even a castle got boring after a while.

But the big problem, was you’d be a target instantly when it came to Heaven’s exterminations. You were a Sinner, and your life was at risk every time those gaping, golden portals opened to swallow the sky, and their blood-thirsty valkyries that would flood the streets with weapons made of holy light.

There was no doubt they would do whatever was necessary to destroy any kind of stability within Hell, and even direct attacks toward Lucifer and those he holds dear. Charlie? Well, she was Hellborn, safe from Heaven’s wrath unless they fancied all-out war. 

But, you? The exterminations were created to kill you, an agreement between Heaven and Hell’s King to quell the uprisings, to keep their control over all realms in Creation. Lucifer never had a reason to care about the population of Sinners inside his ring, until you arrived, with that soft smile and overflowing head of ideas.

If Heaven wanted your head, they would surely have it, if they dared to incur Lucifer’s wrath. He couldn't protect you from everything, no matter how many times he assured you. He wasn't the most powerful being in existence, there were those much greater. 

Was there more to it, though? Was it some kind of political reason because someone of the lower class could never be seen as one of the heads of the royal family, therefore the entirety of Hell as well? Would there be an uprising among the nobility, who couldn’t fathom someone without influence or power to have command over them?

So, for now, you’d spoil your king with kisses and soft words away from prying eyes. In the comfort of your room, surrounded by fond memories and heated exchanges of passion. Breakfast in bed, lounging the day away on your balcony, staring towards the city. 

Sometimes, Lucifer would enthrall you with tales from past interactions with other royalty, mainly the other Sins. He’d impersonate each, his voice almost perfectly mimicking their tones and speech patterns as he recounted stories that made you laugh so hard you almost tilted over the railing once.

Lucifer had spilled his wine trying to catch you as you leaned a little too far backward over the metal edge, his hands gripping your forearms as you adjusted for balance.

“This,” he had said with a breathless laugh as you stumbled into him, before the fallen angel wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush, “is why I can’t take my eyes off you anymore. There’s always a mortally wounding drop that you can’t seem to stay away from!”

You only giggled in response, your buzz making it impossible for you to give your lover a straight face as he tried to frown sternly at your reaction, only failing miserably when you lost balance again from the laughs that began to shake your figure. 

Lucifer began to lift you upright once more, a soft laugh escaping his lips as you only sent him a lopsided grin, leaning closer to him. It wasn't until his gaze lowered and he caught the tipped wine glass that had rolled against the leg of a chair, did the fallen angel deflated slightly.

“Look, you even made me spill my drink..” He whined, his eyes sullenly tracing the small river of red liquid that cascaded over the table’s edge.

You captured Lucifer’s lips in a sloppy kiss, your teeth grazing against his skin as you hummed an apology between trailing kisses. The King only melted into your hold as you filled him with sweet like ‘My silly duck’ and ‘The most handsome angel’. 

Your hands lifted to cup his cheeks, before breaking the kiss and sending him a loving smile. You squished his cheeks softly, and Lucifer only melted in your hand, nuzzling his cheek against your palm.

“Well, at least I’ll get some kind of buzz from the taste of your lips,” he sighed happily against your palm, flashing those pretty bedroom eyes at you as his claw slid beneath your undergarment, grazing against warm, bare flesh that caused you to shiver underneath his touch. 

Lacing your fingers with his, you sent him a sultry smile as you tugged him towards the open balcony doors, soft light basking the entrance to your room with light red hues as you crossed the threshold. 

Lucifer growled softly, his pupils dilating as he lifted a hand to begin unbuttoning his shirt, following you obediently into the darkness. The balcony doors shut behind him with invisible force, and wisps of golden light snaked out of the keyhole, before being blown away like dust. 

You smiled at the thoughts, your heart fluttering as those feelings bubbled up underneath your heated skin. This was the first time you had been away from him for a while, and it did feel much lonelier without his vibrant aurora that only filled your soul with warmth. 

Soon, you’d be back in his soothing embrace. But first, there was work and an audience to woo.

You had told him he could come later tonight after the show started, which had made him beam with happiness and promise to be there in support of you.

Would he appear as his common imp disguise? A Goetia? Would you even be able to tell it was him without those shades on his face? It seemed like you’d be playing I Spy later tonight.

“—will be there?”

You blinked, shaking your head to pull yourself back into reality. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you think any of these famous painters you studied all your life will be there? I mean, they couldn't have all been virtuous and sinless, right? I’m sure that one guy that cut his ear off wasn't stable enough to make it through the pearly gates.”

“Huh... I don't know, I never thought about that before.” You laughed, your eyes still on the tunnel that was now only a mile away, before Lucifer could start on another subject, you quickly broke the silence, “I’m about to go through the portal, I think. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you later tonight.” 

“Oh, okay! Listen, don’t worry, it’ll feel like passing through any normal earthly tunnel… probably. I can't wait to see you, and hopefully, in that delicious outfit you bought earlier,” he teased.

“If the King commands it of me,” you replied with a honeyed tone, your words “but, he’ll have to be patient, can the mighty Lucifer Morningstar resist such taking a bite from the apple?”

“No matter how tempting, I’ll just wait until I can ravish it in its entirety later,” the soft growl in his voice made your breath hitch slightly, your cheeks heating at the thought of what ‘later’ would entail.

“We’ll see,” you whispered, before pulling the phone from your ear and ending the call. You felt giddy in your seat, that heat slowly ebbing from your skin as the tunnel loomed ahead. You grabbed the wine rack next to you for support as large shadows swept across the limo’s interior as it disappeared into the darkened path.

Lucifer was right, it had honestly felt just like you had driven through a regular old tunnel, if not for the tingling at the back of your neck and the feeling of weightlessness for only a moment as the limo’s tires hit solid ground once more.

Then, green skies cast emerald hues along the seats as you peeked out the window, excitement bubbling in you. You were in another ring for crying out loud! This was a first, and other than pictures, you had no idea what 

It wasn’t until your eyes adjusted to the change in hues, did the anticipation died immediately and a frown graced your features.

Greed looked… kind of ugly. Thick, green smog powered from large towards that dotted across the barren expanse. Large industrial buildings nestled between them, most likely some kind of plant or factory.

Rivers of sludge flowed from each facility into a large, concrete-lined lake. There was no doubt it smelled rancid out there, and your nose crinkled at the thought.

The large city that the limo was heading to was the least soaring to the eyes, its towering corporate buildings filled the sky. Flashing multicolored lights emanated from the middle of the sea of buildings, most likely party central of the capital.

As the vehicle rolled down the street, stopping at the streetlight, you were aware of the eyes that were trying to get a glimpse through the tinted windows. Some demons even pulled out their phones, snapping a quick picture of the pristine, white paint that shimmered underneath the street lamps. 

They probably thought it was someone important, like Lucifer, maybe even Charlie. Thankfully, discrete locations where you’d be dropped off and picked up had already been decided. Hopefully, you won’t have any run-ins with the paparazzi or anything crazy. 

You checked the time on the TV, you were just in time for check-in at the hotel you were booked at. It had been provided by the organization behind the large event, and you weren’t sure what to expect. 

As the limo pulled alongside a back street, you spotted an elevator a few feet from the curb. Taking another sip of your drink, you gathered your things and opened the large passenger door.

Stepping over the gap, you hoisted everything onto the sidewalk, fiddling with a few loose items before turning towards the long vehicle, shutting the passenger door, and leaning over to the driver’s side window.

“Thank you, Jeremy.” You called to the driver, a short imp with a bushy, white mustache. He only nodded at you through the shaded glass, before the limo began to pull away from the curb.

You turned towards the elevator doors, before taking a deep breath and stepping forward

After a few hours lounging around in your hotel room, the rest of your day was filled with preparations. 

You spent the early hours at a very fancy restaurant, surrounded by other artists. They all looked Hellborn, although you were sure you couldn’t have been the only one who got granted access from Pride. 

They all seemed relatively cheerful, sharing stories and techniques of their careers. You even shared some of your art with a couple of nice women that you were seated next to, the one that hung up at Ozzie’s. 

“I saw those the other day! That was you? You are such a great artist!” One gushed, while the other two nodded their head in silent agreement.

“That’s really kind of you, but, I’m not that good,” you brushed off her compliment, hoping to change the subject to someone other than you. You refrained from telling them where you worked, or anything about you, really. They may be kind to you, but in Hell, that didn't mean their motives were pure.

The tension in the air was a little thicker than you would have preferred to, but some of your “competitors” came from nothing, and would go home to nothing, if they weren’t able to make a large enough income after tonight.

Arriving not too long after at the large building that would host the show only heightened your anxiety, as your eyes bounced from booth to booth that was being set up with paintings, pottery, and other mediums.

The interior looked like a giant convention center, the walls a blank white with gold trim, a perfect backdrop for the splash of color that was beginning to take shape across the multiple displays.

The booths looked like large cubicles, with tall partition walls separating each artist’s collection. Only the front, which one would be able to walk into the little square to observe the different pieces, was wallless. As you moved to your spot, you turned your head to catch a glimpse at the surrounding work.

Every piece that caught your gaze looked so amazing, and that only made doubt creep farther into your mind at how good you fared against some of these big names. 

Most of the work was reminiscent of what you had done previously, back when you worked for Alexandre at his studio. Scenes of steamy interactions between two—sometimes up to five—lovers, angel exterminators with their chests gouged out, and landscapes of different locations across Hell.

You had expected it, and all of the pieces that you had brought with were from before your time at the hotel, or were painted with such thoughts in mind. The demons that had wallets to empty weren’t looking for cute scenes of bunnies and fawns, or angels in a good light, for that matter. 

You worked tirelessly, placing your canvases against the walls, creating price tags, and trying to finish everything before the event officially started. You were making good time, and your worry was pushed to the back of your mind as you kept busy.

Which made you lift your head from your work, your eyes scanning the small crowd of workers and artists that bustled about. Some ran across the large, white marble floor as they shouted commands to the helpers. 

Was he one of the imps who was helping set up the booths? You had no idea what he looked like in his disguise since he had altered it so only you could see through the lie. There was no familiar yellow gaze or rosy cheek spots that you could pick up from the mass.

He was either not here or was hiding from you. Your gaze flicked up the large clock, one more hour. You turned back to the task at hand, heart racing, and mind wandering as your hands lowered to another small canvas.

“Alright, people! We’re opening the doors, let's get this party started!” A voice rose above the chatter, signaling the beginning of the event. You lifted your head, it was starting already? Time really flew by. 

Demons rushed past your display, running to their own assigned section with renewed vigor as loud footsteps echoed from the front of the building. Looking down, you tidied your outfit, the one Lucifer had mentioned earlier.

You had bought it weeks ago, but only revealed it to him right before you left. In your eyes, it wasn’t much different than what you normally do, except that it was much more formal and eye-catching. And, red. Apple red.

You definitely didn't expect Lucifer to react when his pupils turned to slits when you gave him a peak, or how he subtly wet his lips from beside you, his gaze traveling up your figure as he seemed to be picturing you in it.

Patrons began to fill the floor, the large growing louder as demons filed in, their eyes glinting with interest and excitement. Bird heads poked out from the crowd, the Goetia’s tall frames towering above most of the other attendees. They were definitely dressed like nobility, in dazzling robes that brushed against the tile as they moved with grace from booth to booth. 

Their talons clicked rhythmically against the tile as they glided past your figure, their eyes landing on the portraits behind you were curious as some stopped before you.

Apart from the Seven Deadly Sins, they were directly beneath the Morningstar family, and were Lucifer’s most loyal followers. Did they miss their King’s presence in his absence? You figured most of them had yet to run into the fallen angel, even with his face slowly appearing across the realm. 

Smiling widely, you greeted a few of them, stepping aside so they could take a closer look at your pieces. They slid past you, and your eyes landed back onto the crowd, scanning for anyone who resembled Lucifer, to no avail. Where was he?

“I like this one,” one of the Goetia spoke softly to her lover, pointing at an oil canvas depicting your idea of the River of Styx, the famous trail of water from Greek mythology that flowed into the underworld.

A little girl sat at the edge of the dark water as it flowed past, as if she was looking into the depths with longing. Her hand was outstretched, reaching towards the writing forms of grey, ghostly bodies that peeked from below the water’s surface. They held their arms out to her, begging for help, or perhaps for her to join them. 

The girl was looking at a specific being underneath the surface, a mirrored image of her small figure, their face contorted in agony as it met her gaze. Tears pooled from the little girl's eyes as she stared at herself, one hand to her mouth in grief as she reached tenderly towards the sicky grey image that represented her inevitable fate.

The two birds stared at the price tag beneath the canvas, before their eyes met and the shorter male Goetia turned to you with a stack of cash in his hand. You practically bounced on your toes with happiness as you took the money with a bow of your head.

“Thank you! Please return later and someone will help you carry it out!” You waved farewell as they left, their gaze already locked onto some pottery sitting on display a few displays away. 

This continued few another hour, a repetition of demons moving in and out of your booth to fawn over your different pieces. Some would occasionally pull out their wallet to purchase from you,  while they complimented your craftmanship.

Even with everything going on around you, and answering any questions that were thrown your way, your eyes still kept gravitating to the bustling crowd. Your mind still sifting through every figure looking for any resemblance to Lucifer. He would have revealed himself to you by now, wouldn’t he?

He didn’t forget or anything… right?

After waving goodbye to another customer, you turned to see a red-headed demon sneaking past some patrons, before she reached your booth entrance, knocking softly on the thin walls. You turned, raising an eyebrow as she timidly stared up at you.

“Hi! I’m Anna… from the restaurant earlier. Do you remember me?”

You recognized her after a moment, and a smile bloomed on your lips. She was a quiet girl, her figure resembled that of a porcelain doll, her features painted onto the smooth surface that mimicked her skin. 

Anna had sat diagonal from your chair at the restaurant, barely making a peep, but her eyes had followed your conversation with interest. You hadn't tried to speak to her, afraid she’d crack from the attention. She seemed fine around the large crowd now, though.

“Yes, that’s right. Hello, how can I help you?”

“I was just wondering if you had any extra ‘Thank You’ stickers that I could have? I’m going running pretty low.” 

“Selling out quick, huh?”

“Ha-ha, sort of. My ceramics are pretty cheap though, definitely not close in value to something like your work.”

Heat crept onto your cheeks, and you smiled bashfully. Your skills were surely not that advanced to receive all this praise, it wasn't like you were some kind of prodigy back on Earth to deserve such kind words.

“Please, I’m sure your skills are equally matched. And, of course, let me go grab some for you!”

Turning, you reached into a box nestled against the wall a few feet away from you. You pulled out a small plastic bag full of smiley face stickers, before turning to face the young girl once more.

“Here, this should be enough, but if you need more you can always come back–”

Your sentence was interrupted when gasps erupted across the attendees, their eyes beelining to the front of the building. Even other artists and servants were getting a peek at the commotion as a crowd gathered at the main entrance.

Anna leaned outside of your display, her eyes squinted trying to get a look at what was going on. You stood next to her, straining your ears to catch any words from the whispers emanating from the onlookers.

‘Someone’s here.’

‘Could it be…?’

“Oh my Satan… it’s—!’

“Your Majesty!” A voice boomed above the crowd from a tall demon in a blue tuxedo squeezing through the guests, his little management pin sparkling gold as he moved to greet the newest arrival.

You tensed immediately, frozen in place, mouth agape, while Anna only became giddy beside you.

“Did you hear him?! I think the King is here!” She bounced excitedly beside you. 

“The King..?” You whispered in disbelief. 

“Y’know, Lucifer Morningstar? You’ve seen his royal portrait, haven’t you?”

‘Oh, I've seen much more than that,’ you wanted to reply.

Anna quickly scampered off, intent on getting a closer look at the grandiose figure as she moved through the murmuring nobles.

You could see his hat bobbing behind the much taller figures as he moved with grace, the hint of his white overcoat, and the red glint from the apple on top of his cane.

“Yep, it’s me! Your devilishly handsome King, come take a closer look if you don't believe me—woah there, not that close! Personal space still exists, thanks.” 

You watched the top of his white hat move amongst the bodies of gawking demons, as they parted to let him stroll through.

It wasn’t until he came into view, with that all-too-familiar charming smirk that made your knees wobble. With those soft curls that framed his face that shimmered like the sun, making your heart flutter.

His yellow gaze scanned the crowd, but he wasn’t able to take a very long look before the blue-suited demon approached closer, bowing low before he cleared his throat.

“It is truly an honor to be in your presence once again, Your Majesty.”

“Of course it is,” Lucifer replied nonchalantly, straightening his posture.

“We didn’t expect to see you here tonight! It’s been a long time since our gracious ruler has been to our event… but nobody had any problem with that!” The demon quickly interjected, laughing nervously as he pulled on his collar. 

“Yes, well, I've been very busy these past few years. Doing… important things, of course!” Lucifer nodded quickly, chuckling lightly as he spoke loudly, “So, I thought I’d drop by and take a look around!”

“What a wonderful idea!” The event coordinator clasped his hands together, before beckoning the fallen angel to walk along, “If you’ll please follow me, Your Highness, I can take you through everything we have to offer.”

Lucifer followed behind the man, all eyes on the floor tracking his every movement. Most lowered their heads in respect as he passed, the Goetia’s in attendance much more enthusiastic about it.

Quickly, you backpedal into your booth, your head whipping across the walls for any imperfections in your setup as your mind raced.

What was he doing here, as himself?! Why didn’t he tell you before, and what was his plan?

When Lucifer arrived at the first artist down the long line of make-shift walls, you could barely hear their conversations now that they’d stopped yelling so loudly

The artists bowed, their hands rubbing together in a soothing motion as they greeted their King. You heard the three chatterings lightly, as sweat beaded down your forehead in anticipation for him to get to you. Your booth was about five little cubicles down, he’d be at your ‘doorstep’ in no time.

Lucifer listened with only mild interest as each artist walked him through their different pieces. His gaze kept shooting away, looking for you, no doubt since you were busy hyping yourself in the corner. 

Assuming he didn’t walk up to you and go ‘Hi babe!’ he would most likely treat you like everyone else here, and you’d have to do your best to keep suspicion low. That was hard, when his close proximity always sent goosebumps rippling across your skin, or your demeanor to change instantly.

He just had that energy that warmed you to the core, and you always ended up stupid and giggly by the end of the night in his presence. Hopefully, the anxiety of being surrounded by so many people would keep you cool.

It wasn’t until you could hear him in the display right next to you, did you shuffled to the front, hands clasped in front of you with a wide, professional smile. The patrons buzzed around you, most of them still eyeing the King with interest and awe, but some began slowly dispersing as they continued their tour around the building. 

“And here, is one of our newest participants in the event. I believe they specialize in paintings of multiple forms, I’m sure you will enjoy their work, Your Majesty.”

You locked eyes with Lucifer just as he rounded the little corner to your booth, that charming smile only curving upward an inch as his gaze softened at the sight of you. 

He stood beside the event coordinator who turned to you expectantly, his eyebrows raised as he waited for.. something.

You stared at him for a moment, before your posture straightened with a grimace and you leaned forward in a bow. This time, you made sure to keep your hand tucked beside you when doing so.

Shit, this was supposed to be you meeting the King of Hell for the first time! Your relaxed posture probably looked pretty insolent to the coordinator, thankfully, Lucifer paid no mind to any misstep ettique.

“Your Majesty, it’s an honor to be graced in your presence,” you spoke sweetly, smile widening more awkwardly now.

“It sure is, my dear subject,” Lucifer modded in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips as his gaze rose from you to the walls behind your figure.

“Golly, is this your art?” He gasped, placing a hand on his heart as his eyes drank in the pieces hanging around you.

“Yes…” you replied slowly, quirking a brow at his dramatics.

“Boy, let me tell you, these paintings are absolutely exquisite!” Lucifer gave a chef’s kiss, a loud smacking noise as his lips left his fingers.

His eyes flicked to the small crowd that was still congregating around your display, as they listened to his words intently. The fallen angel met your gaze once more, and gave you a sly wink, your eyes widened at his gesture.

‘Don’t you dare..’ You growled through a glare right as you saw that mischievous glint sparkle in his eye, he only stared back at you defiantly, before that devilish smirk curved even higher.

“Are you sure you aren’t Leonardo Da’Vinci; one of the greatest, most famous artists from the Renaissance?” Lucifer continued, twisting his head a tiny bit to subtly address the staring demons behind him. 

The figures around you leaned in slightly, their eyes darting across your work with renewed interest as they listened to their King praise you with such grand words. Even the event coordinator lifted his head to get a better look at a painting, his gaze fixed intently as he practically breathed in the scene on the canvas.

“That is very generous of you, I’m sure you’ve seen much better in all of your years attending something like this.”

“Nope!” He replied confidently, and a few demons that were milling about stopped to get a look at your booth.

“Well, it seems like His Majesty is quite pleased with the display! Shall we see what the others have to offer as well?” The coordinator piped up, clapping his hands softly as he took control of the scene once more.

Lucifer turned with a large, exaggerated toothy grin on his face as he stared at the man with fake interest. He definitely didn't want to leave, but with so many eyes on him, expecting him to play the role he had so meticulously designed all his years in Hell, he could only begrudgingly oblige to follow the man out of your booth.

He turned his head slightly, shooting you an unreadable look as you watched him move on to the next booth.

It wasn't until you turned your attention away from Lucifer, did you caught a figure walking towards you, the man’s eyes trained on you as moved. He was about your height, muscles showing through the tight, green dress shirt that clung to his thick frame. 

He had blonde hair, but not as bright as Lucifer's, more of a dirty blonde with hints of a red undertone. He resembled a man enough, other than a few animalistic features like the sharp fangs, pointed ears, and the black goat horns sticking out of his forehead.

“Oh, hello!” You greeted, smiling at the new demon who strolled up to you, “Interested in purchasing something?”

“Actually, I’m one of the people that’s doing the judgments tonight, the name is Ezekial.” The man smiled confidently, lifting a hand towards you to shake. 

You shook it, your smile faltering on how sweaty this guy's palm was. When you tried to release your hand from his grip, he let his fingers linger against your skin before pulling away.

“Listen, I personally think your art is fantastic. Such care towards your work, honestly, elicits such emotions, like that one-–” 

Ezekiel pointed behind you, to another small painting of two people in a deep kiss, their lust obvious as the man practically ate at the woman’s face. You turned back to him with a quirked brow as he sidled closer, and you could see a small balding spot on his scalp as he lowered his head.

“—it really fills the room with the same kind of emotions, I’m sure even you feel that… passion looking at it right now, don’t you?”

Was he shooting your bedroom eyes right now? What a weirdo. It’s not like you could do anything about it, he was going to decide your fate tonight, and that meant keeping friendliness with the demon.

“You’re too kind,” you responded with a pleasant smile, taking a step backward, “but you’re one of the people judging tonight's event, I’m sure my work is incomparable when it comes to your own.”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Ezekiel puffed his chest slightly, sidling closer to you once more, as he began to fill you in on practically his entire life story. A tight smile crept onto your lips, and you fought not to roll your eyes.

For some reason, he also enlightened you on the multitude of women he had picked up during his career, including the two failed marriages. Did he think that was supposed to entice you to sleep with him or something?

As he droned on, your eyes peaked past his shoulder, and through the demons behind you, you caught sight of a familiar, porcelain figure staring intensely at you.

You almost burst out laughing at the deep frown on his features, as he watched Ezekial only get closer to you as he continued his conversation. His pupils were dilated, honed in on the judge’s back as if he was intent on smiting him right then and there.

The event coordinator was busy blabbing in his ear, other demons around him also trying to get his attention, but his attention was solely on you. 

Lucifer was jealous, no doubt. For some reason, that made you kinda giddy inside. The memory of what happened last time he got jealous played in your mind, the time you were thrust into a musical number before it ended in a hot make-out session.

You’ve been needy all day since speaking to him earlier in the morning, and that memory made you ache even more to feel his claws grazing up your thighs, his lips trailing down your stomach and–

Ezekiel only seemed to perk at your hot-and-bothered expression that seemed to seep through your placid smile, and his tone only deepened as he spoke to you. His arm above you, against the wall as he tried leaning seductively.

You felt the heat that was slowly building cool instantly at his demeanor. Did this guy realize he was standing around some of the most influential figures in high society? He didn’t think he was the top shit just because he was a judge, right?

When your gaze flicked back to Lucifer, his mouth was agape, eyes wide in horror as he watched the demon lean in towards you. Then, his face screwed up into a deadly frown, his hints of red peeking from his iris.

You quickly backpedaled away from Ezekial, turning abruptly right as another patron walked into your display, smiling widely in greeting. Ezekial only frowned at your sudden exit, before he was called away by another figure, irritation on his features.

You averted Lucifer’s gaze for a while, preoccupied with the larger number of demons coming up to speak to you about your paintings, their interest peaked ever since Lucifer’s little display of awe. You also noticed that your little cash pouch was continuing to bulge in size much faster than normal.

It wasn’t until your bladder began to knock on your insides did you realized how long you’d been standing there speaking with people. Your social battery was about to empty, your mouth was dry, and you really had to pee.

Excusing yourself, you crossed the floor, beelining for the short hall nestled in the back of the building. The restrooms were located there, and it was hidden from view and only accessible from two small entryways on either side. As you entered the darkened corridor, you breathed a sigh of relief, the harsh lights and the noisy atmosphere were finally drowned out by the thick wall

As you finished up in the bathroom, you splashed your face with cold water to drain some of the exhaustion from your features. You were definitely going to sleep good tonight.

Right as you exited the restroom and began moving down the hall, a tall, curvy woman brushed past you, you only were able to blink before she suddenly turned to face you with interest. She had a short, blue dress that showed all the cleavage. She sent you a sultry smirk as she looked up and down your figure.

“Hey, I know you, you’re that Leonardo Da’Vinci artist, right?

“Yes, I am,” you smiled respectively, holding in a sigh.

“Well, let me just say, I think you’re work is fucking stunning, babes,” she replied with a velvet tone, the top of her thighs beginning to peak slightly from her dress as she adjusted her posture, “and, the art definitely matches the artist.”

“Thanks,” you replied sheepishly, averting your gaze from her exposed skin. 

“If you ever want to recreate some of your.. erotic pieces, just give me a call, I’ll be around all night,” she purred with a wink.

“Hey, babe! You comin’ or what?” You heard a masculine voice growl from the hall’s entryway, the light illuminating from the building's overhead lights casting a thick shadow from his large figure.

“I’m coming!” The woman huffed, and she turned to you with a giggle, “I’ll see you around, cupcake.”

Your mouth was slightly agape as you watched her saunter off, your brain short-circuiting at everything that had been happening.

Groaning, you rubbed a hand roughly down your face as the rhythmic clicking of the woman’s heels faded away. How much more crazy could tonight get?

“What are you doing over here?”

You jumped at the voice, pivoting sharply to face the figure basked in shadows. It was the yellow eyes that gave Lucifer away, as he stalked forward with an unreadable expression.

Did he listen to everything? You tense for a moment, before furrowing your brows. What did it matter? It wasn’t you making any advances.

“No, what are you doing here?” You pointed an accusatory finger at him, and he frowned at your gesture, “Here I was thinking you’d be in some kind of disguise, hiding amongst the servants or something, but then you just show up and just start running things? What happened to ‘I can’t handle big crowds’?”

“This is totally different,” he shook his head, waving his hand in a brushing motion as he leaned against his cane, “These are my most loyal subjects, who used to see me all the time when I was much more involved. Not to mention, they have class and a decent amount of manners. What I don’t like is being surrounded by depraved animals that spend their nights coked up and catching all sorts of diseases tangling with random strangers.”

He shivered at the thought, sticking his tongue out in disgust at the thought and you only sighed in defeat. Your man had a point.

“Fine, but I told you I didn’t want you to influence anything that happened tonight. That is kind of hard when you’re hyping my work up like I’m Leonardo re-incarnated.”

“Hey, those were all genuine reactions! And, I did pretend to have no connection to you. But, that was a bad idea, apparently, with all the looks you were getting right in front of my fucking face.” Lucifer growled, his fingers clenching the apple on his cane tighter as his cold gaze flicked to the corner where that woman had disappeared.

“I was not getting any looks,” you crossed your arms, huffing in disbelief. He was acting as if the whole building was ogling you, when they were clearly ogling him. 

“You were! Some of those men were practically drooling all over you, not to mention how they kept scooting closer to you. I saw it all!” Lucifer averted his gaze, staring daggers at the wall. 

He wasn’t mad at you, but he definitely wanted to throttle someone. More specifically, every man whose gaze ate up your figure hungrily while you spoke to patrons. 

Thankfully, in the darkened corner of the building,  the two of you were hidden from prying eyes for just a moment, where he could have you all to himself even for a few minutes.

“Please, you’re just exaggerating, what makes me good to look at?” 

“Your outfit!” He replied quickly, his eyes tracing your figure hungrily as he explained with delight, “God, it really brings out your curves, especially with the way it hugs your waist. It makes your eyes pop too, and I just can't stop getting engrossed in them.”

He bit his lip, the sharp point of his teeth sticking out as he seemed to muster all his strength to keep from saying anything more. As if his words would only fuel the fire that was burning inside both of you right now.

“I look that good right now?” 

“If I could have you right here, I would,” he breathed, his eyes hungry with need as he stared at you longingly.

Your skin practically sizzled with heat, and your legs felt gooey as his words filled your stomach with butterflies. This man was just good with his words, always surprising with you how his lowered voice twisted your insides and made you think all kinds of nasty thoughts.

Not to mention, you've been waiting to have him all to yourself the entire day! Was it so bad if it was only a few feet away from a large room full of nobility from across all seven rings?

Your gaze darted to an open door behind him, could that be a private room? That thought made your heart flutter, and the need to press your lips against Lucifer’s even more uncontrollable.

“Okay, then do it,” those commanding words left your lips before your brain could process the words.

“W-what? You mean right now, seriously?” The king sputtered in disbelief, you had always been vocal about privatizing your sex life, but tonight, you were feeling a little… bold.

“Don’t be a pussy.” You spoke with a honeyed tone as you batted your eyelashes, swinging your hips as you brushed past him, your arm grazing his shoulder tenderly.

That tingle of energy made goosebumps erupt against your skin, and you felt Lucifer tense, his breath hitching as you moved by toward the doorway. He cleared his throat just as you crossed the dark threshold into what seemed like a storage closet. Boxes and other items were stacked against the wall, and a desk holding nothing but dust sat on the other side of the small room.

Lucifer exhaled a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in, as he followed you into the dark, dusty room. Once he stepped inside, he set his cane by the door frame and his overcoat hit the floor, before he pushed the door close behind him, locking it just in case anyone were to enter in the middle of your session. 

You brushed the accumulated dust that was on the desk, not wanting to dirty your outfit so that you’d still have to show-off in afterward. 

Once cleaned, you sit yourself on the surface while keeping your gaze fixated on the fallen angel. You watched every one of his movements, your hand supporting the weight of your body leaning back on the desk. Lucifer could practically feel his heart about to jump out of his skin as he approached your awaiting figure, his lean arms snaking around your waist before placed his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

You fold your arms around his neck to pull him closer, fingers interlocked with his soft, blonde hair that you adore. You caught a whiff of his usual shampoo, that crisp apple aroma making your head spin and heat bloom in your stomach. 

You deepened the kiss, hungry for more of him despite already being so intimate. His teeth grazed against your lips, a light tug on your soft skin as a plea for you to allow space for his tongue to enter.

Your lips parted with a soft mewl rolling off your tongue, a familiar wet muscle instantly pushed past your lips and into your mouth. Lucifer’s tongue collided with your own, drawing a groan from him as he pressed his hips against yours. 

His erect is so obvious from a mere brush of your hips, that it almost made you giggle against his lips. He groaned from the light friction, hips involuntarily rocking against yours to get more of it. You whined into the kiss, moving your legs to wrap around his waist, pressing him closer exactly where you want him to be. You felt his hand creep under your shirt, his fingers caressing your flushed skin under the fabric. His touch is gentle yet possessive, almost feeling like he’s marking you from his touch alone.

“So pretty,” He mumbled against your jaw after pulling away from your moist lips. His breath hot against your skin, he pressed a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your neck. Lucifer drew his tongue out and attacked the sensitive spot on your neck; that one spot that always makes your body shudder. 

He hummed against your damp skin, his teeth brutally abusing the spot by sinking deep into your skin. You moaned suddenly, fingers tugging on his hair which made his scalp burn. His hand that remained under your shirt traveled down to the waistband of your pants, cold fingers slipping through them in a teasing demeanor.

“You look so pretty in this outfit. Gonna keep ‘em on for me, hm?” His voice vibrated through your body and reached your core, clicking something inside of you. You nod eagerly, whispering a small ‘yes’ in response to his words. 

You heard a muffled praise from Lucifer before feeling him pull your pants down, pushing them until they hang on only one side of your leg. Your forehead rests on his shoulder, gaze fixated on where his hand hurriedly unbuckled his pants. Judging from how he fumbled at the zip, you can tell he has been waiting for this all day impatiently.

A whine spilled from your lips as he pressed the tip of his length at your entrance, circling it at the area to spread his pre-cum just in case he might hurt you. He’s sensitive; just from pushing the tip in, he has already let out a loud groan while leaning his forehead against your shoulder. Your breath hitched at the stretch, body twitching occasionally as he carried on pushing the rest in inch by delicious inch. 

Lucifer’s eyes screwed shut, enjoying every second of your warmth engulfing his erect that is now nicely nestled deep inside of you. Your nails clawed into him through his loose shirt, legs trembling while doing your best to adjust to his size. His tip is already pressed against that weak spot hidden inside of you, the sensation tightened the coil that formed in your stomach.

“G-gonna move, ‘kay? Tell if if you wanna stop.” He stumbled over his own words because of how good you felt, now moving his hips to thrust into you at a slow pace. You feel your walls burn, the pain bringing a sense of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Moans start spilling from your lips, your head growing into a blur as he gradually increases the pace of his thrusts.

He pushed you further onto the desk, allowing easier access to the sweet spot in you with his ferocious thrusts. His sharp teeth bite down on the flesh of your neck, lips attached to your skin as he sucked on the area continuously until dark spots bloomed. He repeated his actions, hickeys bloomed all over your exposed skin like flowers during the blooming season.

The fallen angel shows absolutely no mercy with his thrusts, fully projecting his jealousy into them instead of holding back. He rammed into you over and over again, the sound of your skin slapping echoing throughout the small room. 

“Mine, mineminemine. All mine, yeah? Nobody can fuck you this way except me.” He growled while holding you close, drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him every time he hit the spot.

“Fuck, doing so good just for me. You like it? Being fucked into a moaning mess?” 

All you could do was moan, nothing else. Words can hardly be formed in your mind let alone a proper sentence; your vision begins to turn white as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His grin grew at the sight of your drool rolling down from the corner of your lips, feeling a sense of pride bubbling in his chest. You’re in this state because of him, everything you’re feeling currently is all thanks to him. He twitched at the thought alone, a string of curses fell from his lips as his grip on you tightened. 

He mumbled something along the lines of ‘im close,’ or ‘gonna cum,’ into your shirt before lifting his head, crashing his lips onto yours once more in a hungry kiss. The kiss is sloppy; his tongue is unable to properly move with yours and the same goes for yours. He drinks up every one of your moans from the kiss, groaning from your sweet taste that he could never get enough of.

It only took a few of his hard thrusts until you clenched tightly around him with a sharp inhale of air, body trembled violently as you came undone. Lucifer quickly caught on with you, the tightness around him pushed him off the edge, hot strings of thick seed filling you up from the insides. 

He reduced his pace significantly, now rolling his hips lazily to ride out both of your orgasms. It took a full minute before he slowly pulled out of you, watching the white liquid oozing out of you in the surrounding darkness. You both lean against each other, chest heaving heavily as the both of you try to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” you finally breathed, your face burying into his shoulder as the bliss subsided. How could a man make you come so undone in such a short amount of time? 

Lucifer placed a hot, wet kiss against your temple as the two of you slowly straightened. Your bare ass was still on the wooden desk’s surface, its cool touch welcoming to the heat still bubbling inside of you. 

Your thighs still ached as Lucifer adjusted the collar of his shirt, before he took a few steps towards an open box, piles of fabric nestled inside. Reaching in, he cleaned any stray dust from the small clothes surface, before handing it tenderly to you.

With an appreciative smile, you took it just as Lucifer walked over to grab his coat and cane. You cleaned yourself up as he straightened his bow tie, fixing his coat upon his shoulders. Before he turned to face your half-naked body as you began to change to look a bit more presentable.

“Are you sure you’re not an angel? ‘Cause those curves are otherworldly, baby,” Lucifer spoke softly as he strolled up to you. His drunken, half-lidded smile was evident on his face as his gaze traveled up your figure once more.

“Don’t you hear the stories?” You replied, honey dripping from your voice as your fingers reached his soft hair, grazing against his scalp as you pulled the strands back into his usual style, “How Lucifer was the most beautiful angel God ever made? How could I ever be similar to someone like you?”

“While I cannot argue with such a statement,” Lucifer laughed, staring adoringly at you as you fussed over his outfit, “If it were you in those paintings, instead of me, Michaelangelo would have been drooling.”

You smiled bashfully, pulling him closer for another deep kiss as you gripped his long collar. You could feel Lucifer’s smile against your skin as he peppered sloppy kisses down to your jaw, and goosebumps erupted across your skin.

Your hand clasped around his moving lips just as he was about to reach the crook of your neck, your mouth clamped shut to force down the moan in your throat as that heat in your abdomen returned slowly. 

“Please?” He whimpered against your palm.

“Later,” you replied sternly, before peeling yourself off of the fallen angel. Your arm brushed against his as you maneuvered to walk behind him. Your hand connected with his ass, and you felt him straighten before shooting you a playful glare.

“How do I look?” You asked, one hand on the room’s doorknob and the other gesturing to your figure

“Do you even need to ask? Perfect, as always.” Lucifer cooed, strolling up to you just as the door cracked open and you peeked your head.

The hallway was dark and empty, and with another quick scan, you slipped quietly into the corridor, Lucifer on your heels. 

“Well, I guess we should split up to not draw any suspicion. I’m sure everyone is wondering where you went.”

“They can wait,” Lucifer brushed your comment off, “You’re more important than these feet-kissers.”

You playfully hit him in the arm in scolding, and he grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint light as you began to walk towards the large doorway at one end of the long hall.

“I’ll see you later, mon amour!” He called after you, before you heard the sizzle of his magic as he no doubt teleported away back into the crowd. 

You sighed happily, adjusting your outfit once more as you crossed the threshold. The glaring lights cause you to squint your eyes as the volume in the room picks up, voices piling over one another until they become an inaudible mess in your head.

You only took a few steps before the dollish face of Anna appeared, a large smile on her face as she beelined for you. She was waving her arms excitedly in the air, trying to get your attention as she cut through the moving silhouettes.

She was moving so fast you thought she was going to ram into you, and you froze, tensing as she reached your figure. Her delicate hands curled around your forearms, shaking you slightly as she bounced in place. You stared wide-eyed at her eagerness.

“I’ve been looking for you, for like ever!” She finally squeaked, her smile only widening as she met your gaze.

“Why?” 

“Didn’t you hear?! You won!!” 

Your heart stopped, your breath hitching, as her words processed in your mind. You what? 

The loud voices were drowned out, replaced by your jumbled thoughts. Won what? The award for ‘Best in Show’, that little prestigious trophy that had sat patiently at the judge's table all night? That was impossible! There were so many better artists here, surely someone else deserved the spot! 

Yet, the way giddiness began to bubble up inside you, and your lips cracked into a wide, stupid grin at Anna’s words only made you a teensy bit thrilled to have taken the position instead of someone else. Was all your hard work finally paying off, was your creative voice finally going to be heard?

“I won..?” You weren’t sure whether to start crying with joy or run away and hide. 

“Yes!! I’m sure the judges are waiting for you so they can present the award, c'mon we have to go! Everybody is probably eager to congratulate you!” 

You felt Anna tugging at your arm, beckoning you to follow her across the room. Your eyes lifted into the crowd, before resting on that familiar, porcelain face that stared back at you.

His brows were raised, a smirk on his lips as he silently whispered ‘I told you so,’ through his gaze. He shot you two thumbs up, his eyes shining with pride. Not for him, but for you.

You sent him a warm smile, before his figure was obscured as another demon approached him. You turned your attention back to Anna, letting her lead you through the small groups of demons.

Your heart fluttered, that exhaustion that was ticking at the back of your mind fading as renewed vigor pushed your feet to move faster. And soon, you’d finally be alone once more with Lucifer, the most vibrant stroke on the canvas of your life.

As you walked, you passed by an elderly figure ambling across the room. You caught a brief glimpse of his features, enough for the recognization of the famous painter hit you in the face, making you almost halt in your tracks.

Was that Caravaggio?

sorry this was late :(!! i took an extra day or two to chillax and celebrated my bday, but i hope the word count made up for that!

and HUGE thanks to @silasours for writing the smut!! i was not feeling it this time but i really liked the idea and thankfully they swooped in to help! go check out their page if you want to see more hazbin works like that :)!!

also, i just realized i’ve written 100k words in less than 2 months?! like 😵‍💫 wowza that’s a lot! a whole ass book lmao

let me know your thoughts, have a wonderful day! 🦢

tag list 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @sukxma-archive @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @koumieru @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0

[hxney-lemcn]

Here to Stay — Farmworld! Finn Mertens x gn! reader

summary: reader moves in with Finn.

tw: none.

a/n: The finale! I hope you all enjoyed this series! I never write series' cus it's hard for me to keep writing so much for one plot but this had me in its claws.

wc: 0.4k

Epilogue [Ending A]

Master List | Chapter One

“Okay guys,” I laughed lightly as they had all just taken turns giving me a hug. “I gotta talk to your dad now.”

A chorus of ‘awes’ filled the room, but they trudged out of the room anyways. I turned to Finn, who watched with a blank stare. I fiddled with my fingers, knowing I left on a sour note. 

“Uhm, I’m really sorry about last night,” I muttered.

“Where did you go?” Finn asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. 

I sheepishly smiled, explaining how I managed to get back to Ooo. How I had a talk with the Finn from my world, and decided it would be best if I stayed here. “If that's okay with you of course,” I finished. 

Finn’s face softened, and he uncrossed his arms, “This is your home now, it always will be.” 

I felt myself fluster, heart beating wildly at the warm gesture. I looked off to the side, unsure how to respond. I was so wrapped up in my feelings, I missed the fact that Finn closed the gap between us. It wasn’t until he placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face up that I realized the gap was nearly gone. I took in a shuddering breath, flashes of the previous night filling my head. 

“May I?” He asked, his breath hitting my face lightly. 

Not able to say anything, I nodded. Finn closed the gap and kissed me softly. I kissed back, holding onto his bicep for stability. He pulled back quicker than I would’ve liked, but I wasn’t complaining. His hand caressed the side of my face, cupping my neck, before letting go completely. 

Suddenly, a bunch of bags poofed onto the kitchen table, a little note in front of them. I felt my face flush as the moment was ruined. I felt embarrassment rush through me as I read the note.

‘Hey, so I realized all your stuff was still in Ooo so I transported the more important stuff.

-P’

I blinked, silently cursing Prismo for being an all watching deity. But also silently thanking him for moving my stuff for me. Without a word, Finn picked the bags and my eyes widened. Where was he gonna move them? I didn’t exactly have a room. 

I followed after him as he walked up the stairs. He entered his room and placed the bags down on his bed. I felt giddy at the implication.

“There's a few empty drawers,” Finn explained, motioning to his dresser. “You can put your clothes there. Anything extra can be put where you’d like.”

“Thank you,” I thanked, already starting to put my stuff away.

I felt at peace, happy with the choices I made.

[ganondoodle]

this isnt as long as before but i just cannot stop thinking about this, why i dislike story and lore boils down to these main point

--the ending feels unsatisfying as hell even if i ignore everything i dont like about how the game treated zelda and ganondorf, the ending itself just feels, despite being presented as super epic an touching, incredibly empty to me and part of it is that it feels like an unearned return to status quo of course i didnt think zelda would stay a dragon and i actually wanted to help her, which is why i kept trying to hunt down impa since she said shes gonna search for a way for us to help zelda, bc i wanted to!! i was eager to help her!

i fully hoped and kinda expected that thered either be some kind of dragon dungeon (think, the water dragon from okami) tho that would be difficult since you can get items from her so i ended up thinking before going into the end thered be a mission with impa (or at least given to you from her) where she found answers in ancient scripts (that she told you she would look through) and that you need to find a special lil thing that will help zelda undragonfy, like some sort of ultra secret forbidden enigma stone able to reverse dragon transformations kinda deal (golden opportunity to make you go and talk to the yiga bc they might know or even own some ancient texts) that youd keep in your inventory until the very end and after you kill dragondorf (pretty mortal for becoming an immortal dragon huh) you take it out and use it, undragonfying zelda and ending in a similar epic falling and paralel to the beginning way

... and instead impa stays in the house and only has a few repeating dialog boxes and does nothing and you cant do anything bc in the end you just get randomly teleported (and stripped of your clothing AGAIN) into some weird ethereal plane somehow?? with the ghost of long ass dead sonia and apparently not as gone as i thought rauru (seriously i felt sad when he went poof at the end of the tutorial but i guess i shouldnt have) awkwardly blasting dragon zelda with some magic tm and its all reversed no problem (heck me for caring i guess) turns out helping her was killing an evil guy we never really knew and mineru just kinda says lol its bc time and light magic i guess lol as an explanation

like i really wanted to go and help zelda! i was motivated to do it and spent HOURS trying to find impa again but i wasnt allowed to do anything bc zelda gets saved by some deus ex machina bs in the end anyway, what a fool i was, of course killing the evil guy is the solution to everything >:( (and no i dont care if its meant as in uwu sonia and rauru wanted to help one last time uwu bc it doesnt change how unsatisfying it was to watch it all just kinda happen)

--point two is just how much totk feels like its trying to REPLACE botw instead of being a sequel, its not building on anything of it its ripping out the fundation and building its own thing in its place, like i was so excited to see what happened to the titans, and all the sheikah tech what they mabe had done in all that time now that theres a tech enthusiastic girl as the head of the monarchy, maybe even find out more about them and instead its just all ... gone with not explanation? theres isnt even a LAME explanation, its just gone?? you never find out what the ancient energy actually was, and why there were concentrations of it in the regions with the ancient furnace (well heck it didnt even have anything to do with ganondorf actualyl bc that would have been too interesting) bc that was so intrigueing?? like yeah where DID it come from and why is it there ?? and oh suddendly hey look theres an even MORE ancient and even MORE advanced civilization thats way COOLER and BETTER than the ancient sheikah now, they also built stuff everywhere and have been here ALL ALONG cant you see its everywhere!! and its the only thing everyone cares about all of the sudden, all evdidence of the ancient sheikah tech was scraped of the earth so there literally only being some guardian parts on top of the hateno lab feels like an oversight now bc everything lese was to thourohgly wiped of the map- for no reason even?? like im totalls fine with it being useless and not working anymore but .... why remove it like it was wiped from history?? and then they have the gall to mention the happenings of botw like, twice in the entire game but still just give you the most basic summary of it mentioned on a sidenote with again not even a hint what happened to all of it

wouldnt there have been the golden opportunity to use it to access the new parts and map points that changed?? like a shrine thats fallen into the underground, an access to caves and the underground in the broken and collapsed elevator tube of a sheikah srhine?? maybe even a broken interior of an old shrine, like the room you get put into with the puzzle and where the monk once were broken and half overgrown in the udnerground? some left over construction site where you can see oh thats how the ancient sheikah got all that tech underground, bc they all had access to it and built it there to then rise up when its needed? maybe even making use of the old sonau sites since they frequnetly built their srhines within those ruins?? that the ancient sheikah found em and put the ruins to use? to research it and built their own stuff from it? it wouldnt have to have any focus, literally just part of the enviroment even

really everything totk does is like -forget botw ever happend, look how much cooler and better i am, who cares about sheikah stuff sonau are the new cool guys that came out of nowhere but now apparently have been everywhere all along actually-

i LOVE botw and with it feeling much more like its attempting to replace botw instead of building its story and world further every reference to botw i found felt like a slap in the face instead, oh look where the shrine of life used to be isnt even a hint left of sheikah tech somehow, and also right under it is the lake of healing filled with sonau structure bc ACTUALLY they were here FIRST bc they are so cool omg you guys

dare i say it feel a little like they wanted to make an entirely different version of botw basically, but wanted to reuse the map and models so they just said yeah uhhhh its totally a sequel yeah yeha that makes sense, its not erasing botw and doing essentiall the same thing again but bigger cooler and better (tm) its just uuh a ...sequel ye.

[foressfaction]

My Jack and Toby headcanons (they're bfs)

The scar I usually draw over Toby's nose was actually given to him by Jack. When they first met, Jack only saw Toby as another victim to kill and eat. What else could you expect when a demon see's another random human. They ended up having a pretty bad fight at the very beginning due to Jack's animal instincts. Toby left a nasty scar over Jack's back and Jack left a deep cut from his nails on Toby's face. So now they both still have sorta matching scars from their first encounter. Are they happy memories? No. Sometimes Jack gets angry that Toby doesn't cover it up more. As covering that part of his face would involve either a full face mask or constantly wearing gauze over it, which is what he DOES do often. Jack tries not to be as harsh on the other about it but he doesn't like seeing the scar he put on Toby and remembering how he used to be and that he had hurt someone he cares so dearly about now.

As for ages and other basic information, they are two years apart. Jack is 21 while Toby is 19. Jack has long pointy ears that come from the sides of his head along with a long thin tail that has a poof at the end of it that's the same color as his hair. Jack stands at around 6'8, his animalistic legs giving him a huge height advantage. While Toby stays around 5'6-5'7 when not slouching.

The main reason Jack actually didn't manage to kill Toby was because when going for the goal, Toby's kidneys, he took notice of the operator symbol carved into him. Jack knows way too well to mess with any of that entity's 'proxies.' As last time he attacked one and killed them, The Operator struck Jack hard and left bad mental trauma. Technically…Jack is terrified of that thing, and wants nothing to do with it. Much less be involved in another killing of its proxies.

Jack still occasionally gets monstrous urges to attack and kill Toby even now that they are close. Everyday it's a risk that Toby takes to still stick around Jack. That fact alone makes Jack feel special, that even with his tendencies and urges, Toby remains unafraid of him. This is what makes him get so attached.

As dangerous as it is, following the last statement, Toby does stick around. He doesn't even realize how much that means to Jack. He himself can't understand why the other wouldn't just kill him day one. Toby is severely disaster prone and is not scared of dying, plus he's tried to commit several times himself. Being around Jack during the other's manic episodes is natural to him. Even in times that Jack would attack and try to hurt Toby, he would almost let it happen. It's dangerous how much trust he puts into the demon, but after so long it no longer bothers either of them, as they both know they have more control than the thing that tries to take them over and ruin what little happiness they do have.

What does the Operator think of these two? Well it doesn't really matter. Its only motive is to break its chosen puppet's minds. If it knows one of its 'precious proxies' has found peace of mind and true happiness then it realizes it can no longer manipulate them into thinking that it is the only thing filling that empty hole it impaled into their hearts from the start. Love and friendship being its one true pet peeve its human slaves can experience.

Due to its hatred to the relationship, whenever Toby has a dark moment, the operator gets him away from Jack and then tries to take control. Upon success, Toby would immediately lash out and attack Jack. It's the same situation Jack has with his inner demon, instead that is apart of Jack, while for Toby it's a completely different story. After weeks of this repeating, Jack usually has to restrain Toby, knowing how that thing can be, it would have no problem tearing the boy apart just to get to Jack's mind as well. Jack now knows not to ever truly leave Toby alone by himself with his still healing mind. And Toby knows not to pry or tempt Jack in any way involving food or accidentally angering the demon. These two are bombs waiting to blow up if any little thing goes wrong. And that's really sad.

I feel like Jack would be the tired but supportive dad personality type when it comes to Toby. Motherfucker shows up with 6 different kinds of tree bark and goes on an autism rant about what he knows about each one and how flammable they are while Jack would sit in a crouched position, ears perked in interest. No matter what it is, Jack is always wanting to be a part of it. When NOT angered, Jack is like a big cat. He doesn't understand these silly human emotions Toby experiences and kinda lowkey uses the boy to learn them again. Toby can show a span of different emotions within just an hour. He's such a spaz and a mess but that also helps Jack study and learn these mannerisms so he can be a better friend/boyfriend. So if it takes sitting and listening to Toby go on about something Jack has absolutely no idea about then he will.

Due to not understanding Toby completely, being a different species and all, Jack will occasionally ask personal, weird or just normally creepy questions. Not trying to be either of those things obviously, he doesn't know what to ask or how others feel about things. He's lucky it's Toby he asks these questions because all he does is cackly stupidly at them while Jack just lowers his ears and frowns in confusion. Bro just wants to know things that he will never get to personally experience or know. These questions could range from questions about body fluids, how humans digest, how they do their business, basic stuff. Sometimes Jack lacks a filter of basic modesty though, and asks things that could really catch Toby off guard and embarrass the absolute shit out of him. Technically Jack is an unconscious rizzler.

For a relationship, cheesy things like pet names don't cross either or their minds but they still subconsciously do it. Jack has tiny furs that cover his entire body that makes his skin super soft and well, fuzzy. Especially his hands and elbows. Due to this fact, Toby spat up a stupid nickname that he calls him religiously. That name being 'Fuzzy.' Jack of course doesn't understand that having fur is natural to him, having no recollection of his once human life. Jack would sometimes wonder why Toby didn't have fur, and how the other stays warm even without it. Jack knows he's human, but that still just boggles him. I feel he'd ask "So are all humans skinned at birth?" "WHAT?!-"

Jack has no eyes but can still see, but not how he used to at all. His vision is very dark and almost grainy. At night he sees mostly in infrared and relies on sound and vibrations. Toby is helpful to him for that due to the other's tics. One thing Jack would never understand. As yeah Toby IS human, but not a healthy one at that. The boy has many disorders that make him different than the average person, this confusing Jack even more about him.

Toby's problem of being completely numb has always concerned Jack. He remembered studying nursing and to be a doctor but never why, or when that was. Still occasionally Jack would recall certain things he learned and would be the aid to Toby when the other would hurt himself and not even know it. I feel like if anyone it would be Jack to notice first if the other was seeming off or weak. I feel like Jack had to point out multiple times "You're bleeding-" "am i?"

Jack would keep Toby well bandaged and healing too, somehow knowing how to treat a wound better than Toby who's been doing it ever since he stayed around the forest. Toby is very thankful to have Jack's help but that doesn't mean he would let him help every time. Jack mainly has to beg Toby to let him help, as the other is literally laying in his own blood, denying it as if he knows jack shit about what's happening or where the wound even is due to the lack of pain.

Jack doesn't fully understand how sick Toby really is. He watches the other down pills constantly and doesn't know why. The Slender sickness is a thing in this universe and all of the people who are close to that entity deal with it. Toby is like a puppet to that thing so he has the sickness pretty bad.

I like to think that they were each other's first ever hug after the incidents that happened to them. After Jack hugged Toby that's when he realized that he might actually truly love the boy.

Toby is absolutely obsessed with Jack's tail. I feel he would just sit and hold it when sad and Jack would just let him. Obviously confused on why but he eventually learned to just stop questioning this boy.

Neither of them really have a full grasp on what love actually is, but they show it as if they do. Jack is very lovable when he wants to be and Toby got used to it. Formerly being someone who hated physical touch. Only Jack. Only Jack..

There was actually a time when Toby let Jack literally take one of his kidneys. It was all Toby's choice too, doing it knowing that one, he wouldn't feel it, and two it would help Jack tame his hunger and urges. Letting Jack have one actually made the demon crave eating the other a lot less, knowing he at least got a piece. The healing process was a bitch but both were content about it. Toby was a cackling mess the whole time, seeing Jack's expression shift when Toby was perfectly willing to let the other take an organ he could live with one of. "Are you sure? i don't wanna hurt you" "you want the kidney or not." "....yeah…."

They definitely work together when getting food for Jack. Toby eats normal food and Jack can't, therefore they work together constantly and hunt food for Jack. It's mostly trespassers that enter the forest that get killed first. Toby is usually the distraction while Jack goes for the kill. Toby chops the body up and helps Jack store it.

Jack is very insecure about his face, hence the mask he wears. The way Toby found out what Jack looks like is actually pretty funny. Curiosity gets the best of him and he eventually just ripped the mask off of Jack, seeing that when the other wears it is when Jack is the most hostile. Jack obviously was frozen in embarrassment, scared his face would make Toby fear him but Toby's reaction was nothing more than a shrug. He wasn't scared of Jack or judged him for his face, in fact Toby only held Jack's face in both his hands and just stared at him. They're falling for eachother your honor.

Going along with the mask thing, Toby would definitely wear Jack's mask around just to get a reaction from the other, which would usually be Jack just yanking it back with a cackle.

Jack would totally just put his hand on Toby's head and just rub his hair like a mangy dog. "so soft-" "boy what-"

Au Headcanons

Toby would 100% be a stoner. He'd probably get zooted almost every night and Jack would get highly concerned but never think much of it. At this point he learned a lot about Toby and knows what he's gone through. He knew weed was bad but if it helped Toby then he would be there to support if the other became immobile from how absolutely zooted he'd get.

Toby always tend to fall asleep better when Jack is around. There's times where he literally leaned into the other and just fell asleep right then and there. Jack ends up having to carry him to his room or somewhere with a cushion. This happens with Jack too but he usually wakes up before Toby could tuck him in somewhere. Jack is a rather light sleeper while Toby could sleep through a nuclear war once he actually gets to sleep.

[tonberry-yoda]

HIIIIII ITS MEEEE- 🚁 the brrrr

its not papa croc but fluff croc is as 💪😤 ✨

Hereeeee

Croc maybe had something he had to tend to and returned late at night to y/n sleeping in dim lights in their very the comfortable the room 😌

And bro as always, tried to be as silent he can, doing his night routine before getting into the bed

But then croc had to hit his foot on the side of something that led to him hitting his head on another thing and something knocked over something and the other thing fell but he caught the thing in time landing on the floor on his bed in a swift magic poof poof move ykno

Thats when he heard a small mumble "crocodile you're an idiot" with a small mumbled laugh

When he looked towards y/n, shes still asleep and snoring and yes

As always you can take a smol percent of this idea or add more stuff to it and take this as an inspirationnn or no do this one 😌

Btw i saw your pending request list and jaw is dropped 👁️👄👁️

Proves you are a really good writer bc yu slayy :)

Anyway have great day and may yu continue to slay 🙏✨

-heli go brrrr 🐑🛋️

Late Again - Crocodile

notes - AHHHHH HI!!! I just finished Impel Down and saw wifey croc and nearly lost my mind! I love him sm and have been brainrotting for him B A D! Thank you for being the croc lover here and I am so glad this was still in my inbox for me to do tee hee. Lots of love and thank you so much for your kind words as always, it means a lot <3 word count - 339

You sighed at you dimmed the lights. He had to be home soon. You just kept reminding yourself that as you tucked yourself in your warm sheets. You were used to Croc being out late, but tucking yourself into bed was always pretty hard.

Passing out though was a whole other ordeal. And an actual easy one. You worked hard, almost just as hard as your husband, so getting to sleep was nothing and you would always pass out, lights on or off.

---

Crocodile opened the front door slowly, sighing as he knew you were probably out by now. He wasn't keeping track of time and the moment he looked at the clock, he wanted to slap himself in the face.

He packed up as quickly as he could and came home to darkness. Luckily, he already ate, so he didn't have to worry about that, but damn would it be nice to get a kiss or a hug or anything after such a long day.

He slipped off his shoes and hung up his coat before going upstairs. A sliver of hope came to him when he saw the light on in your bedroom, but that always happened. So when he saw the dim light shining on your sleeping figure, a little bit of disappointment swept over him.

He tried tip toeing around, but failed miserably when he hit his foot on the side of the nightstand, which made an empty glass fall (surprisingly not shattering in the process) and then he hit his head on a bookshelf nearby somehow, which made him again hit the same foot from earlier onto the bed frame.

Crocodile felt like such an idiot and he looked at you with wide eyes.

Somehow you were still asleep.

Until you let out a mumble. "You're such an idiot, Croc."

He turned off the lamp and crawled into bed. "You don't have to tell me twice." he whispered.

But as he wrapped his arms around you, he noticed that you were still fast asleep.

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 01: Headshrink

Info │ 01

Alpha werewolf Derek Hale stalked into the decrepit room where Stiles was hiding. He eyed the human curiously, wondering why Stiles was staring intently at some old looking book, only to wave his hands sporadically at an empty Coke can.

Stiles sharply exhaled through his nose and then shot one hand forward, gritting his teeth with the movement.

Nothing happened.

“Damn it,” the human cursed to himself.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, trying to hold back his smirk. He kept his usual scowl plastered onto his face to hide his deep admiration for the hyperactive human.

Stiles jerked back and then blushed when he saw the werewolf eyeing him. “Um,” he muttered quietly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “Deaton said that he saw a ‘spark’ in me, so I’ve been trying to test it.”

Derek let his tough guy façade crack for a moment, his bushy eyebrows rising in surprise. “Really?” he pressed, taking a step forward, leaning in so close to Stiles that he could smell his cologne. “I used to have a pack member who had a spark. Maybe I can help you?”

Stiles’s face broke out into a large smile, making Derek’s heart flutter. “That’d be great!” Stiles practically cheered. He leaned in closer to the werewolf, showing off the spell book that he’d been studying. “I’m trying to use this shrinking spell to make the can smaller.”

Derek tensed up at the closeness, unconsciously leaning in even closer to the human, nearly engulfing him in his bulk. Although he denied it outwardly to anyone who asked, Derek had a serious thing for Stiles, and after years of repressing it, their physical closeness was too tempting to ignore. Hence, Derek leaned as close to Stiles as he could, glancing over his shoulder at the book.

“Just focus your mind on what you want to shrink,” Derek breathed, so close to Stiles’s ear that his breath wafted over the human’s face. He smirked when he saw Stiles’s skin break out in goosebumps.

Stiles gulped. “O-okay,” he stammered.

Derek couldn’t help but preen at the effect he was having on Stiles, so he decided to up the ante. He leaned in even closer, his stubble brushing up against his face. “Focus on the image in your mind,” he whispered, his lips so close to Stiles’s cheek that he could just give one little—

POOF!

Derek felt like the room was spinning, as if it were on some sort of hydraulic system. He stumbled back, his vision full of stars. Once it cleared, he stared up at Stiles who only gazed back with wide, stunned eyes.

“What happened?” Derek asked, flinching when he heard his voice. It had shot up several octaves, sounding like he was some cartoon chipmunk. Derek made a move to clutch at his throat in surprise, but froze when he looked at his hands, which now seemed to be the size of dinner plates. His hands were massive; and when he frantically looked around at the rest of his body, the rest of him was just as large. His pecs appeared to jut off unbelievably far in front of him and his shoulders were crazily broad.

Stiles paled, but then quickly grew red. “Um, well I guess I can shrink stuff after all?” he cheekily muttered.

“Shrink?” Derek demanded in his squeaky voice. “I’m huge! What are you talking about?”

Stiles bit down on his lip and held out his phone for a second, taking a quick photo before turning it around for the werewolf to see.

Derek’s stomach fell when saw that his body hadn’t grown, his head had shrunk. Instead of its normal size, his head was now about the size of a baseball, looking comically tiny atop his muscular frame. “You were supposed to shrink the can!” Derek growled, his squeaky voice completely eliminating any threatening tone to his words. “Not my head!”

Stiles held his hands up in front of himself in surrender. “You told me to focus on an image in my head, and then you kissed me!” he blurted. “So… unfortunately, I thought of you.”

Derek just smoldered, irritated that the very second he made his move, his head shrank. “Just turn me back then!” Derek huffed.

“Y-yeah! Totally!” Stiles said as he frantically flipped through the magic book. “Just gimme a sec, and then we’ll have you back to normal. I mean, hey, if you want, I can also make something else bigger on you too?” He eyed the werewolf knowingly, offering a playful smirk.

Despite Derek’s irritation, he couldn’t help but feel his shoulders relax the smallest bit. “After you fix my head,” he agreed. “And only if I get to try its new size out on you.”

Stiles flipped through the book at a much faster pace.

[vivienne-writes]

Wrong Flask

Summary: Self-explanatory title, Garreth was supposed to hand you a flask of his Fizzing Whizzbeer, but accidentally gave you firewhisky instead. No smut, just cute fluff.

“One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.” 

― Charles Baudelaire, Paris Spleen

It was a quiet day at Hogwarts, with the sun breaking through the last remnants of a dying storm. The breeze held the first delectable hints of summer as the air grew warmer. After having been cooped up in the castle all week, its residents were eager to laze around the grounds, visit Hogsmeade, or catch a flight on their broomsticks, if only to feel the sun dance on their skin. Consequently, the castle was mostly empty, save for those who prefer the rare solace of a vacant dormitory. Garreth Weasley was one of them. 

He could finally work on his Fizzing Whizzbeer in peace without Leander or Natty constantly chastising him over his shoulder. The cauldron bubbled furiously beside an open window while Garreth carefully fanned the red smoke. He didn't want to mess with the flame, but the last time he let his concoctions fester, all of Gryffindor Tower ended up reeking of spoiled milk and burnt hair. None of his fellow housemates allowed him to sleep there for a week. 

But his potion was just about done. All it needed was the slightest pinch of ground billywig stings. Garreth's hand shook as he held it over the potion's curdling surface. Too much or too little, and months of hard work would be sent down the drain. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger the slightest bit, letting the faintest dust of powder escape his touch, and – POOF!

The potion instantly turned from burgundy red to fuchsia pink, releasing a small sparkling cloud of the same hue. He’d done it! He had finally done it! Garreth did a little celebratory jig, his foot bumping the table and nearly sending the cauldron a-tumbling. 

“She needs to see this,” he muttered excitedly, scooping a generous portion into a silver flask. 

“GARRETH WEASLEY!” 

With a surprised jolt, Garreth quickly emptied his cauldron and vanished any remaining evidence with a mad flourish of his wand before whirling around to come face to face with his aunt. 

“Good morning, Aunt Matilda,” he grinned sheepishly, hoping with all hope she didn’t see him stow the silver flask in his pocket. 

Professor Weasley sighed. “It’s late afternoon already, but I suppose you wouldn’t have noticed. What hare-brained scheme are you up to now, Garreth?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed guiltily. 

Rubbing the bridge between her brows, Professor Weasley had half a mind to inquire further. But if the dormitory didn’t smell, and nothing was on fire this time. Perhaps she could let it go. Just this once. “Go join your friends, child, before I change my mind.”

"Yes, ma'am." She didn't need to tell him twice. He was gone before she looked up. By the time Garreth found his fellow fifth years, he had forgotten entirely about the flask in his pocket. 

“Crikey, Weasley’s actually left the castle!” Nellie gaped from where she lounged by the lake, the shade of the tree overhead dancing around her face. 

“Someone pinch me,” smirked Duncan. “Ow! I didn’t mean it literally, Nellie!”

“Where’s Lee?” asked Garreth, ignoring their jabs as he settled on the grass next to Natty. 

She turned the page of her book and, without looking up, replied, "Off on some stupid dare with Sallow and Clopton.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Leander said as he approached, flanked by Sebastian and Everett. Natty looked them up and down, ready to retort, but decided against it. She returned to her book with a dismissive roll of her eyes. 

“What did you lot have him do this time?” asked Garreth. 

Sebastian crossed his arms and leaned against the tree. “We simply tested Prewett’s bravery the old-fashioned way. Steal liquor from the Hog’s head. And wouldn’t you know it? The bastard actually did it.” 

Leander frowned. “You can have a little more faith in me, you know.”

“Did you swipe enough?” The devilish grin on Everett’s face grew slightly. He caught the silver flask before it hit his face. “Yes!”

“Here’s one for you, Gaz.”

Another silver flask landed on Garreth’s lap, and in a blink of an eye, he was back on his feet. The others stared at him in surprise. 

“Shit! I almost forgot!" And just like that, he raced back towards the castle, disappearing in a mad rush of black robes and red hair

“He could’ve at least given it back,” Sebastian muttered with a shake of his head. 

When he found you, Garreth was panting and out of breath. Curse the founders. The astronomy tower didn’t need so many steps! His footsteps were heavy on the wooden staircase, alerting you and Amit to his presence. 

“Garreth?” you asked worriedly. 

He rested his palms on his knees, his lungs gasping for air. “I’ve…finished…it,” he wheezed, fishing out a silver flask from his robes. 

Amit grimaced. “Not again.” He scrolled up his star chart and collected his ink and quill. “We can finish this another time. But I’d rather not be here for this.” Your quizzical eyes followed him as he darted around Garreth and made his swift escape.  

All the better for Garreth. If he was being honest, he enjoyed your company. Alone. He held out the flask invitingly. “It’s my Fizzing Whizzbeer. I promised you’d be the first to try.”

You opened the flask and sniffed it gingerly. It smelled… spicy. “Is it safe?” you glanced up cautiously, giving the flask a tentative swirl. 

Garreth nodded enthusiastically. “Chug it!”

“Well, if you say so…” With a deep breath, you brought the flask to your lips and threw your head back, downing the beverage in one go. Gulp after gulp, it felt like liquid flame setting your body aglow with spicy, smooth warmth. It tasted nothing like the candy that inspired it. But whatever this was, it tasted delicious. Perhaps an acquired taste, but delicious, nonetheless. 

“Well?” Garreth asked, waiting for the levitating to occur. “How is it?”

You blinked. The room began to spin, and you threw a hand out to steady yourself. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. But with your senses dulled, there was no way for you to tell. You just felt funny and warm all over. 

“It feels g-good,” you hiccupped, clutching Garreth’s robes before stumbling into him. 

“Oh no,” his heart sank. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…”

He grabbed the flask from your hand and brought it to his nose. Firewhisky. He accidentally gave you the wrong flask. If his aunt found out, he'd never hear the end of it. Thankfully, she never ventured up this far. And if she did, he could hear her incoming footsteps. 

"I should get you some water," he made to leave, but when he released you, one of your legs buckled. You grabbed onto the nearby steel railing for support, and Garreth cursed. He gently took hold of one of your elbows, his other hand flying to your hip to ease you clumsily onto the floor. "On second thought, let's sit here for a bit, shall we?" 

With a nod, you rested your forehead against the cool railing, savoring the feel of the spring wind that whipped your hair. It felt delicious against the rapidly growing heat of your body. Garreth looked you up and down worriedly with a gnaw of his inner cheek. And when he took in your flushed skin, your closed eyes as you enjoyed the dying sunlight and snappy wind on your serene face, guilt raced through his being before settling heavily on his shoulders. 

With a frustrated sigh, he ran his hands down his face. “What is wrong with me?” he muttered. At the sound of soft chuckling, Garreth looked up to find your eyes fixed on his. 

“You want to know what’s wrong with you, Garreth?” you smiled lazily. “We can start with how careless you can be sometimes.”

“Um… thanks?”

Your smile grew wider. "You're smart but easily distracted. Once an idea gets into your head, you never let it go. Not until you've tried it. It's quite adorable, really."

Exactly how strong was that firewhisky? You were usually less chatty. You've never looked at him this way before, either. Hungry. As if you desired him somehow. His palms began to sweat, and Garreth averted his eyes, fixing them onto the pink and purple skies as the sun’s descent welcomed the twinkle of stars. The last of its beams speared through mountain peaks, bathing everything in the valley with its fiery glow. 

“You’ve got the most beautiful eyes,” you spoke softly now, in a hushed tone that seemed more reverent than shy. “Has anyone ever told you that? Like rustling meadows in the summer.”

At that, Garreth couldn’t stop the bark of laughter. “No. Never,” he replied. “I’m beginning to think you’re flirting with me.”

He meant it as a joke to brush off your comments. But he didn't expect you to retort with, "Have been for a while now, but thanks for noticing." His heart somersaulted before pounding relentlessly against his chest. Did this mean…? "Yes, I've liked you for some time now," you continued, sitting up to watch the sunset. "But you don't seem to like me back. Not in that way, at least. That's another thing wrong with you. You're so terribly dense."

A frown tugged at your lips as you swayed. It wasn't like you to be this honest. But something about that brew made you feel light. Carefree. As if nothing mattered in the world. You could say anything or do anything, and right now, you wanted to tell him how you feel. How you've felt since the day you laid eyes on him… even if he didn't like you back, you've said your piece, consequences be damned. Garreth’s silence should have worried you, but you found you didn’t care. Your nerves sang with that uplifting warmth, and nothing could bother you. Nothing could touch you. 

Until you felt a trembling hand splay over yours, a thumb timidly rubbing your knuckles. Your head snapped up to find Garreth looking pointedly away. But the neck and ears that peeked out from his wild hair had bloomed into a furious blush. And so very faintly, underneath the howling wind that whipped through the tower, you almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I like you too.”

You giggled, blushing furiously as your heart soared. You could’ve ripped it out your chest and chucked it off the tower, and it would’ve flown up with the streaming gale. High, high above the castle towers, into the clouds beyond. 

"I didn't catch that," you teased, soft peals of mirthful laughter escaping your lips as you brought a hand up to your mouth. "Could you repeat that?"

With a sidelong glance, Garreth huffed indignantly. “You heard what I said.”

You shook your head and scooted closer, resting a head on his shoulder. Dizzy from the drink, from the revelation he shared your affections, from his hand that never left yours. “I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave,” you pouted, batting your lashes at him coquettishly. 

But the pout of your lips pulled the entirety of Garreth’s focus. They were plump and tempting, mere inches away from his. Lips he had spent countless daydreams on, fantasizing the feel of it against his tongue, his teeth. The silence and tension lay thick and heavy, as heavy as the curtain of dusk as night drew ever closer. 

His voice strained but laced with want, cut through the silence as he said, "Earlier, you told me I never let an idea go, not until I've tried it." His throat bobbed as he cupped your face, your skin underneath his fingers tingling with excitement. "I… I want to try kissing you now. May I?"

He shouldn’t have asked. You were inebriated, your inhibitions broken down by the liquid fire churning in your body. But so was he. Drunk off the very scent and sight of you. Drunk off the magnificent eyes that threatened to devour him whole. And he’d let you. He’d let you have him any way you wished, any time you wanted. 

“Yes,” you whispered, leaning closer, his soft breath ghosting your lips as you closed your eyes. Finally, after all this time pining, wanting… you were so close to finally getting a taste…

“Hey Gaz, if you weren’t going to drink that firewhisky, Sallow wanted me to – oh my!” Leander gasped. 

And just like that, his interruption sobered you up like a bucket of ice-cold water. You turned away from Garreth with embarrassment and shame as he got on his feet to hurl the empty flask at Leander's head. 

"Get. Out." He hissed venomously, bristling with equal shades of embarrassment and frustration. His friend always had shit timing, but Garreth was so close! So frustratingly close. Now the moment was ruined. 

Leander stopped the flask in its path with his wand before shoving it inside his pocket. “Trust me, I won’t breathe a word,” he said before he tucked his tail and ran. 

With an exasperated sigh, Garreth pulled you up to your feet. “Let’s get you back. You need food and water.” 

Your heart sank. Did he… did he not want to kiss you anymore? Your downcast eyes fell on your shoes as you refused to look him in the eye until you felt a soft kiss on your temple. You looked up at him questioningly, taking in the furrow of his brows as he anxiously shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“I still want to kiss you,” he said, eyes darting to your lips. “But not when you’re drunk.”

“So when?” This was your chance, and you didn’t want to let it go. 

Garreth ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Let me court you the right way. Take you out to Hogsmeade. I do owe you for accidentally getting you drunk."

And with a bright smile, you said, “It’s a date!”

[therealvinelle]

I know i am SUPER late to the party but I just stumbled across (and finished 😭) your fic "A Hairy Business".

The deer, that everyone wants to treat as a human but also accidentally like an animal. The fact that he is just a deer after all and does deer-things but everyone tries so hard to read these actions as human no matter what. The pooping in cauldrons being seen as this amazing prank against Snape (and now im worried how the twins tried to out-prank Hairy. What did they poop in?!?) The deer being named "Hairy" instead of Harry (good one, James and Sirius, very mature. Also A+ parenting from James. Poor Lily, I'm sure she tried her best). And Lord Grass-emort XD Honestly, the diary won. Sure he's a soul piece stuck in a diary but at least he's not.... like that.

And who could forget the Hairy Express. The mental image is both very cute and hilarious. No wonder the diary is losing its mind. The deer is too powerful and it's just a deer. It doesn't know what's going on ever.

Honestly it'd be so funny if neither Hairy nor Lily had anything to do with Tom blowing up. Hairy did something deer-y, Tom tripped over him and poked himself with his wand so badly that he just went poof. Hairy got spooked and ran forhead-first into something, getting him the scar.

Who knew that "the power he knows not" would be being a no thoughts head empty deer?

Thank you, you beautiful person, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. It remains my best work.

[reagi-df]

I cast “Become a tot” on the older mean leo

I thank you anon you've given me the perfect opportunity to bring this little chaotic shit in @tmntaucompetition

“Leon what did you do?” Leon turns his head around and glares at his twin. 

“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” 

Even behind the fake moustache and glasses Leon can still see the look Donnie shoots at him, one of “I don’t believe the shit you're telling me Nardo;  Leon scoffs and looks down at the angry looking tot who’s glaring at him. 

“With you?” He arches a sharpie brow.

Leon grins showing his teeth and a slight growl rumbles out. “I take offence at that”

“Mhm I’m sure you do. He says sarcastically” Donnie narrows his eyes at him, “so dear brother. What did you do?”

“I don’t do anything! Someone pointed and said something at him and then, poof” Leon hesitates to the tot standing near three empty trans darts. “He’s like 2 inches tall”

Donnie looks down and he furrows his brows while he bends, reaching for the tranqs. There was a sudden low hiss as Donnie got closer. They all froze and stared at CLeo. The tot was tense as he stared at the soft shell, sharp baby teeth on full display. Donnie stayed still and brought his hands up slowly as he backed away, it was like he was dealing with a stray animal. 

Leon doesn't see the difference really. 

“Can’t say I wasn’t expecting that considering.” The soft shell murmurs.  

And yeah, Leon can agree. CLeo is still giving Tello the cold shoulder and the older soft-shell is just sulking in his lab.

“Y’know, you're much more likeable like this” he grins as he reaches down, only to yelp and clutch his hand to his plastron. There’s some blood on his palm from where CLeo bit him.

“Can’t say you didn’t deserve that Nardo” Donnie chuckles as he crosses his arms, eyeing the tot warily. Yuichi hovers to the side of him as he looks at the tot. 

“Your not a turtle your a shark, you little ankle biter” CLeo looks up at him, face clean of CLeo’s own scars he wore as an adult; as well as his extra markings, all that was left in its place was the nick above his left eye and on the right side of his chin. Scars that have faded with time on Leon’s own face. 

CLeo growls and it’s the curliest thing he’s ever heard. Ignoring the dull ache in his hands he can help but coo, and it seems Yuichi and Donnie arnt  immune as well, Yuichi has a twinkle in his eye as he crouches and Leon can see Donnie pulling out his phone. 

Blackmail material, why didn’t I think of that. He muses. 

CLeo growls again and a chirp breaks free from Leon’s own mouth, shocking all of them. They all stare at each other before Donnie and Yuichi burst out laughing, Leon can feel his face heating up as he sinks into his hoodie. 

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up you asses” 

”Ha! This is too good” Donnie chuckles as he points his phone at Leon, grin spread wide. Leon can see Donnie mime ‘smile’ and Leon flips his finger at him. 

He looks so stupid with the fake moustache and glasses. Leon wished Mikey had taken paints to that Einstein outfit. 

“There’s no shame in it kappa” Yuchi chuckles softly and Leon’s face gets hotter. “It’s only instinct” he grins cockily -and he pointedly ignores the butterflies in his stomach- as he holds CLeo in his arms. 

The tot looks content and he blinks sleepily at Leon, even as a tot CLeo still has that sharp look in his eyes. And he stares from under heavily lidded eyes at him and Leon cant help the shudder run through his body, memories of the fights rushing to the forefront of his mind.

“Awww the ankle bitter still tired” humming smugly, forcing himself to ignore the flashes of memories.

“You did unload three tranqs into him. And he was just waking up before he was turned," Yuichi murmurs as he pulls the dozing tot closer. 

“What do you mean three?” Looking over to Donnie he sees the furrowed brows. “Well, you see” Leon rubs the back of his neck. 

“Nardo” the purple turtle growls as he slowly steps closer to Yuichi, bringing his gauntlet arm up to scan the tot. 

“Alright alright. Jeez” he clears his throat. “You said he couldn’t fight, you remember what happened last time someone was in his way” Leon points to both of them

“I remember very clearly,” his twin says. 

“And you gave me them for times like this” Leon throws his arms wide, gesturing to the fight going on.

“I did,  but what I didn’t expect my dumb dumb of a brother was to use all three at the same time” he bit out. 

Eugh boy. 

“C’mon, what harm can it do? Especially with his biology” he explains. 

“Sigh” Donnie rubs his temples having finished the scan. “Even so, Nardo. He’s a tot now, and even with his biology;  those tranqs were designed for someone who was bigger, not this” he points towards the sleeping tot in the rabbits arms. 

Leon falters. Cleo looks peaceful for once. 

“It's not like I meant to, how’d I know this was going to happen?” He growls, not liking the idea the Donnie thinks he did this on purpose. 

“I’m not saying you did, I’m just telling you that it could be dangerous, but luckily for us, it seems he had already burnt through the minority of it.” 

Leon cringes, already burnt through most of it. He had even been down for 15 mins. 

“I get it oaky, I’m not as stupid as you think” 

Donnie looks at him, really looks at him and goes to open his mouth but the beeping of his head gear stops him. Looking at his gauntlet he sighs. 

“Excuse me, lesser me is calling,'' with that, he turns away from them. 

“Ahh I was wondering when you’d call” Donnie drones.

Looking back at the rabbit  he sees Yuchi gently rocking the tot, humming softly as he stares down at the sleeping turtle. Leon blinks, heart fluttering. 

“You look happy” he jokes quietly, even with all the chaos going on around them, it’s peaceful. 

“Mhm I haven’t had to deal with children since I left Japan. Even in the Usagi clan there were always children running about. Since being older, I was usually the one having to wrangle them, they can be a lot but I enjoyed it. Always found a way to make me laugh.”

The smile Yuichi wore was gentle as he reminisced, the rabbit's ears twitched and a grin spread across his face.  Leaning his head to the side he leans closer to CLeo he chuckles. 

“Hey, c’mere” stepping closer he leans his head down. He doesn't hear anything at first, their surroundings filled with shouts and explosions but even so, the more he listens the more he can hear the soft purr. 

Oh he’s getting so much black tail material for this. 

“Think he remembers?” The rabbit asks. 

“What before he got turned?”  Leon eyes the tot, god he hopes he doesn't remember. 

Yuchi aborts his shrug so he doesn't describe the turtle, “ before, after.”

“Mhm I don’t plan to stick around after he’s back to normal,” he snorts, “hoping he goes back to normal.” he corents

Yuichi cringes, ”how is this even possible” he comments. 

“I mean, with this place,” Leo gestures around them, “anything is possible”. Yuchi hums and they lapse into silence again.  

 “The others are gonna have a field day with this”

 Leon snorts, that they can agree on. 

“He feels cold” Yuichi furrows his brows.

Leon looks on, and then a smug mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Ohh i have something he can wear”. Yuichi has a look of concern on his face and brings the turtle closer to his chest, angling his body away from Leon.

“Don't be mean” 

Scoffing Leon places a blooded hand on his plastron, “Moi?” 

wow this got long... also please ignore any mistakes

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Roughest of Waters

Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down | Won’t You Go My Way? | The Seas No More | The Nightingale’s Song | Bones in the Ocean | For She Was Afraid | Time for Us to Leave Her | To Unchain Me | A Good Time Coming | I Long to Hear You | The Low Road | Handfuls of Laurel | The Roughest of Waters |

CW: Brief transphobia (it really is very brief, a couple paragraphs and then poof it’s gone), captivity, creepy whumper

Kira came to a sudden stop in the doorway to the massive dining room. Nadette nearly walked into her from where she followed close behind, bumping against her back.

"Oh, sorry, Miss,” Nadette chirped, but Kira didn’t respond. She had become an immovable wall. 

The siren sat at the breakfast table as if he were simply another man, and yet he so clearly was something far beyond a man. 

The sun shone through the windows, touching the siren with edges of gold along his nearly-shorn hair and warm skin. He seemed less of a living thing than a kind of painting that had stepped off the canvas into the world. He sat, a loose white shirt hanging oddly on him, as if he weren’t quite comfortable in it. He was looking down at an empty plate, but his eyes flickered up to meet hers.

Kira found herself a little lost for words at the sheer unbelievable beauty of him.

“Miss?” Nadette touched her shoulder, briefly. “Miss, are you all right?”

Kira swallowed, realizing her mouth had gone oddly dry. “Nadette-... do you… see him?”

Nadette peered over her shoulder, then gave a little laugh. “Of course, Miss. He arrived late last night - oh, you must have already gone to bed, though, so you didn’t see. You were feeling a bit poorly last night, I believe.”

She’d been locked inside a room against her will, literally dragged screaming up a staircase more like, but… clearly Nadette remembered things differently. 

Kira glanced back, and saw Nadette looking at the siren with a cheerful, almost glowingly joyful expression. No terror like she had shown the night before when she interrupted the siren’s song, not even a hint of worry. “... but who is it that-... as you say, that arrived last night? What-... who do you see?”

“You can’t see the resemblance?” Nadette giggled, girlish and sweet, and Kira felt new horror rise in her at the sound. She found herself rapidly developing an entire library of complicated, complex ways to feel disgusted and uneasy in this place. “It’s Lord Wentworth’s son, of course! Guilford Wentworth the Fifth! Although he just goes by Ford. Sweet boy he is, polite as can be.”

Kira’s mouth simply hung open for a moment. “His-... his son?”

“Yes! Go on, then, His Lordship will be in for breakfast in just a moment, he had to have a look at the stables after the storm.” She pushed Kira, gently, forward, and Kira had to set her shoulders as she stepped across the threshold, listening to her unfamiliar boots make soft clicking noises as her heels moved against the hardwood floor. 

The siren’s eyes followed her, barely blinking. 

“Your hair is shorter,” She commented, choosing a seat directly across from the creature so he couldn’t surprise her. She had never missed her magic kit more - a simple protection spell she could do with her hands no longer seemed like enough. 

The siren didn’t answer. He only watched her, face impassive. Kira was vaguely aware of Nadette bustling around the room, of a cup of steaming hot coffee being placed in front of her. She felt her lips move in automatic thanks, her fingertips against the beautifully-painted porcelain with its fresh cream as she poured some in and then added sugar. The clink of her spoon as she stirred.

The siren never looked away from her, not once.

“You don’t drink coffee, I suppose,” Kira said, just to break the silence, to lift a little of its weight. To her surprise, the siren’s lip turned slightly up at the corner. He shook his head, and tapped a water glass to his right. “Ah. Well, my sympathies. Coffee is the only thing that keeps me from going to jail for murder some days, you know?”

He tipped his head to the side. “Who would you kill?”

The question was so simply asked, with such genuine open curiosity, that she realized the siren had no idea she was only joking. Although... was she?

Kira, aware Nadette was just out of earshot, chanced a slight smile of her own. “Our illustrious host, for one,” She murmured, barely moving her lips. “First on my list. So everyone trapped here might go home. Including you. Especially you."

If she had felt the siren’s gaze intense before, it barely held a candle to how he looked at her now. 

Where before he had seemed perhaps vaguely hostile but otherwise unmoved, now he looked at her with a desperate hunger that made her lean back in her chair, as though he would fling himself across the table at her. It made her think of the way his jaw had opened too wide, there had been so many sharp-edged teeth only an inch from ripping out her throat.

This hunger was different, and yet the same. A need to flee, more than a hundred years in the making if the portraits on the wall were accurate. He swallowed, and she tried not to watch his throat move as he did, tried to blunt herself to his otherworldly beauty. 

The moon had made her children something truly incredible to behold, impossible to believe really existed.

“In the night-” He started, his accent thick, his eyes finally leaving her and looking down. He looked almost ashamed of himself. It was a strange expression, one he wore uneasily, as if he weren’t used to having regrets. Or didn’t know how to show it. 

“I understand,” She said, voice low. “I-”

Nadette was at her elbow, placing a scone on her plate with a beatific smile. 

“Thank you, Nadette,” She said politely, and picked the scone up. “As I-... As I was saying, I understand the journey from the colonies is quite arduous this time of year.” 

The siren’s eyes moved to Nadette and then back to her. He didn’t bother to even attempt a smile or a lie. 

Kira dipped her scone into her coffee. Buttery and with little currants to create bright jeweled beads of tart sweetness, it was incredible. 

Then again, Wentworth probably used magic on the best cooks in town, too…

Nadette bustled away again. 

“You… understand?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him.

“Of course I do.” She dipped her scone again, then chewed, closing her eyes. “I would do the same, if I could. If it meant getting away from this place. I meant what I said - stop trying to force me and I will do what I can to help you." She took another drink, swallowing a little too fast just to feel the hot coffee burn just a little down her throat. 

When she opened her eyes, the siren had a strange, unreadable expression on his face. While she couldn’t begin to say what that look meant, she knew that whatever he thought of her, it was no longer apathy.

“You... are here to make the magic strong on me again,” He said, voice low. Kira tried not to notice he was given no scone, nothing to eat. That Nadette never directly acknowledged him. What did she hear, see, think, feel? Would she even remember this breakfast later in the day? 

Would she remember this moment, later, or would it be taken from her?

The thought sent a frisson of cold up and down her spine and she straightened up, nervously pressing her lips together. She met the siren’s gaze. “I know. I think… I think I am here for more than that, though, aren’t I?” She tried to smile again, but found it faltering this time beneath the weight of her nerves, her fear. Beneath the weight of his eyes.

The siren tipped his chin - not quite a nod, but close enough. 

Kira inhaled slowly, held the breath, exhaled over five long, slow beats. Then she sipped her coffee again. “Which of his wives were like me? Any of them? Magicians?”

The siren - Areyto, she had to start thinking of him by a name - looked thoughtful, now. “The second one,” He said, voice low. She felt like his eyes on her face had a tangible weight, and it was a strange, squirming, unfamiliar sort of nerves the idea sent racing up her spine. “And the third. The fourth had no magic, but she was important to my master to have. The sister of the prince’s friend.”

“The now-king?”

“Yes. She had no magic, but she had other things he wanted. With the first, the woman who made me like this for him-”

“Atabei Montgomery.”

He visibly startled, spine straightening as he sat up. “Yes. You know the name?”

“There’s a painting of her in my room-” Kira winced. “In the room I’m being kept in, I suppose. Nadette told me she was-... the first Lady Wentworth’s… companion-”

“Yes. Her lover. They loved one another, as you humans do. Atabei Montgomery came to my master and when he asked her, she made me a slave to the man’s desires. Then she was made into one herself. They both were. But he allowed them to still love each other.” There was no pity in the siren’s voice, for their fates. No regret for what had happened to them. Kira wasn’t sure she blamed him for not mourning, and yet it felt… strange, to see him care so little about his own words.

Then again, he wasn’t human, was he?

“Did she really go mad when her-... when Lady Wentworth died?” 

“My master told me she must go mad,” The siren said, emotionless. The words were just sounds he formed, they meant nothing to him, they held nothing within their form and shape. “And so she did. All I did was give her back her mind, and let her know what all had been done to her, to her lover, and what had happened to the child. It was enough."

“Gods above,” She whispered. Her fingers were trembling, holding onto her cup, and she set it down with a clink that was just a little too loud, startling herself and discovering she’d nearly finished her coffee without realizing it. 

He might have had a shadow of a smile on his lovely face, for just a second. If he did, it was gone as soon as she looked directly at him again. 

“W-wait, the child? Which one?” Her mind raced back to the portrait of the first Lord Wentworth’s happy family, Eliza’s dazed dreamy smile and the sharper, quietly miserable expressions of the children.

“The one Lady Wentworth had before he had me remake her mind,” Areyto replied simply. “There was a daughter who was kind to me.”

“A-and what happened to-”

“I don’t know. I told her to run, and I told my master she was dead.”

Kira nodded. "That was-... kind of you."

"Maybe. If she lived."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"Oh. I-... oh." Nadette was back, refilling her coffee with cheery helpfulness, and she thanked her in a quiet, distracted way. She had a hundred questions, a thousand even, all fighting to be the first she asked.

But then she saw Areyto straighten even more and his eyes go back to his plate, and she knew what it meant. 

Then a hand landed, heavy and slightly damp, on the back of her neck. She shot upright, gasping in surprise at the too-familiar touch. “Lord Wentworth!”

“Good morning, Miss Losna,” Guilford Wentworth said, and his fingertips brushed the nape of her neck beneath her heavy braid before he moved away. It felt like he left a smear of some terrible slime behind. She had to catch her breath as he took his seat at the head of the table, Areyto his right and Kira his left. “Did you sleep well?”

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze despite the way her skin still prickled with distaste from the sheer memory of his touch. “No.”

“A pity.” Guilford Wentworth held up his cup and Nadette was already there, pouring fresh coffee, looking as though her life’s ambition was fulfilled now that she was serving the lord and master of the house. It made Kira sick to see it, knowing it wasn’t Nadette’s real mind, her real feelings. “I trust you will find yourself sleeping more easily as time goes by. Everyone does.” He smiled, the slug, he smiled at her as though they kept some private joke together. “And you’ve met my-... son?”

Kira’s nose wrinkled. “I met your siren,” She said, voice flat. “Again.”

He chuckled, sipping his coffee with a sparkle in his eyes that made anger rise in her throat, nearly choking her, especially when his eyes shifted downward and then back up to her face. Openly. Right here in front of-... well, the siren wasn’t human, but Nadette certainly was, and so was Babbage, both of whom were in the room right here, right now, well able to see him ogling her like so much meat in a butcher’s window. “You look quite different when sleeping, Miss Losna. Or is it Mister-”

“It’s Miss,” She said, voice flat as a plain, as hard as a diamond and sparkling with the same icy colorlessness. “So it was you, then?”

“It was.” His slick smile widened. The siren sat in stony silence, but he seemed to shift uneasily. Kira chanced letting her eyes go to him, watching the creature’s gaze cut to the side towards Wentworth himself. Kira saw the way Wentworth’s arm shifted, though, and swallowed as she realized his hand was on the siren’s leg under the table. 

She found herself oddly glad he wasn’t touching her, and then felt immediately guilty for being happy he was harming someone else. 

“It was me,” Guilford said, and took another sip. “I thought I should get to have a good look at what I will be bringing into my home. I was more than a little surprised at what I found, especially between-”

“Lord Wentworth.” She cut him off sharply and set her chin just so. She would not lose her temper, not here and now, although her skin burned to lash out. He had her magic kit hidden here somewhere, and she had no chance of making it down the road to the city if he did not want her to, not with the high iron fences that encircled his property on the outside. “Such talk is less than polite and I won’t have it.”

Guilford Wentworth’s eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. He pushed his glasses up and leaned towards her. “I don’t believe this is your home to dictate what we do or do not discuss, Miss Losna.”

At least it was Miss.

She smiled without any warmth or humor - it was closer to baring teeth. “Then I shall take my leave of it and discuss whatever I wish anywhere other than here.”

He paused, and then he burst into laughter, shaking his head back and forth as though she had told an uproarious joke. The siren stayed silent. When cooked eggs and slices of bacon were laid on their plates by Nadette, the siren received only a seared fish, which he stared at with some distaste. “Lovely, Miss Losna. Lovely. I do enjoy having a wife with a sense of humor.”

“You just-...” She hitched in a breath, folding her hands tightly in her lap until the pain of her own grip cleared her mind from the bright flash of fear. “You just tried to say I am not-... wife material, so to speak-”

“You clearly can fix that little problem.” Guilford shrugged.

"I cannot bear children."

That did give him pause, and he considered. "Oh. Well. Mistresses can be had for that purpose. In any case, you are a beautiful woman, Miss Losna. I have had many women, more than a few who used magic or cosmetics to achieve their beauty. And you had a beautiful face without magic, too. It softens, when you sleep.”

“I will try not to be seen sleeping by you again.”

He chuckled. “You will, though. And you’ll thank me for my regard, soon enough.”

Kira tried not to look at the siren, and failed. Areyto did not look back at her, not now. She picked up her fork and stabbed ineffectually at a bit of egg. “We shall see. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that I dislike being held prisoner, no matter how richly decorated my prison cell may be. I do not consent to marriage.”

“No one ever does, at first,” Wentworth replied, waving one hand, dismissing her protest as meaningless in a way that made fury flare inside her. “They all come around. You’ll come around, in the end.”

“Who is it-” She cleared her throat, and hated herself for the way it made her seem weak, the way it made Wentworth grin at her as though he’d won their little game already. “Who is it I will officially marry, Lord Wentworth?”

“My son. Guilford Wentworth the Fifth.”

“And… does the young man actually exist, or…?”

“Of course he does.” Guilford waved his hand, a bit of egg on his fork. “I ensure my bloodline carries on. My children know their money, their power, their place in the world depends on this magic. They will say nothing. And should my son visit and want to meet his bride, I suppose I shouldn’t stop him. Trust me, Miss Losna - you won’t mind by then.”

It was one thing to be told she would marry against her will to this odious monster of a man, but the idea that he should pass her around to his son on some sort of whim, and that she would be happy to be treated like a toy tossed between ham-fisted children, a prize that belonged to anyone with the last name Wentworth... it was too much to bear.

“How dare you,” She hissed. 

Kira hadn’t realized she was squeezing the fork until she felt magic sparking through her fingertips and looked down to see the silver melting under her fingers, dripping down over the eggs and bacon. She was breathing hard, chest half-heaving.

When she looked up this time, she caught the siren staring at her openly, eyes wide with surprise. 

Even Guilford Wentworth looked shocked at the sight. "How did you do that?"

“How dare-...” She pushed her chair back and stood, chin set and shoulders back. Wentworth’s eyes lingered too long on her chest and she picked up her plate and threw it at him, cooled silver, cold eggs, and bacon flung across the white lace tablecloth and sticking to his perfectly tailored shirt. It hit his face, it flung further even. The chandelier above her head began to sway as if blown by her rage. Candles went out, the drapes fluttered over the windows. “How dare you!”

She turned to storm away, and made it to the doorway before Guilford snapped a command in a low voice and she heard the siren begin to sing a moment later.

This time, there was no slow communication, no pleading, no gentle relaxation. Only the hint of some sort of regret in the song, and then Kira Losna dropped like a stone.

Darkness closed in before she ever hit the floor.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 10)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 next: Part 11 | ao3

time for shenanigans.

Jim’s frustrated.

This whole week has been a major event after another; Joyce’s son vanishes on Sunday, the same happened with Eddie Munson the day after, and the Hollands’ daughter going poof the other day. And then Will’s body had been found in the quarry, which was a cherry pick top on with Benny’s sudden death and the damned MK Ultra stories he can’t get out of his head-

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes a deep breath. Exhales it out. Yeah, Jimmy boy, exhale some of that shit out.

He’s sitting in his vehicle on the roadside, just at the intersection of Cherry Ave and Cornwallis Road. He doesn’t really have much to do. Theoretically, he should be sitting his ass behind his desk at the station but what is he going to do?

The goddamn suits and rangers of the state had shown up right after Will’s body was recovered and told him to relax because they got it all covered.

Yeah, right.

In a different time, Jim wouldn’t mind shouldering off the responsibility and leave the big hats to finish it. But he’s not that kind of cop. He doesn’t trust the state to place their greasy hands over the cases. At best, they’re going to fuck it all up.

But it seems that they really aren’t kidding about being involved. When Jim had tried to get into the morgue last night to do a better autopsy on Will’s body, the doors were guarded by, not one, but three rangers. He almost punched them all out, but he had simply shared the most polite conversation he can with them before they politely kicked him out.

He had thought about seeing Joyce earlier this morning, but he would be a heartless jackass to accidentally send her to a public breakdown at her son’s funeral.

Now he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, staring at nothing on the road, unsure what to do and where to start.

His mind wanders to the notebook sitting in the glovebox. Having already read it front to back, he can admit that Wayne really has a sharp eye for everything. There’s one particular point about Eddie being last seen with a cut on his hand that’s nagging the back of Jim’s memory cave. But nothing solid comes up so he brushes it aside for now.

“How long it’ll take for you to even care out what happened to my nephew before his body turns up next?”

Jim stops his tapping on the wheel and drops his forehead against it, sighing heavily. Wayne really knows exactly what to say that haunts you for the rest of your damned life.

Not so different to what Joyce had fired back at him few days ago.

Will’s body comes back to his mind again. He hadn’t seen him up-close, not with the coroner being defensive on preventing contamination. But Jim’s not an idiot. He had seen enough of Will’s perfectly intact body to call bullshit on the accepted belief the kid fell into the quarry.

Suddenly, he gets a sinking feeling in his gut.

Jim looks up towards the direction of the laboratory. He’s too far to actually see the building but he feels its presence nonetheless. Enough to conjure up the image of Martin Brenner’s polite smile when he said no, we haven’t seen a child here on these grounds.

He starts the engine.

—

From the way Wayne keeps glancing up at Joyce, she senses that her pacing is getting to his nerves.

It’s fair for him to think that. She’s been practically burning through his kitchen floor for the past thirty minutes. Or she thinks it’s been thirty minutes. Hours were quickly slipping and the sun’s already setting outside. 

Hours without any word from Will or Eddie. Not even a tiniest flicker from the lightbulbs. 

Despite her empty stomach, she can feel bile climbing up her throat. She swallows it down, daring a glance back to Wayne. 

He looks up at her again, his hand rubbing the side of his temple. Joyce tenses when she catches his mouth opening as if he’s ready to say something. She’s already had enough listening to the hauntings of her mother’s scolding in her ear and whispers from the townsfolk (including Lonnie and Jonathan) right behind her back. She doesn’t want to hear another one to her face from Wayne.

Just then, through her anxiety, she gets struck by a realization.

“Of course!” Joyce snaps her fingers in a feign of excitement. “They probably went back to my house!”

Wayne gives her a bemused look. “Your house?”

She nods quickly, already pulling the older man up as she reminds him through a long-winded explanation of how she manages to establish communication with Will and later Eddie at her home. Wayne looks all the more confused, but he hurries along with her to his truck. It’s a quicker drive from the trailers to Cornwallis. Wayne follows her brief directions, soon parking on the driveway. Before he even stops, Joyce jumps out and runs to the front door. 

She realizes a second too late that she should give him a warning about the current state of her living room. But whatever words she’s about to say withers in her mouth when she steps into the house.

The Christmas lights are gone. 

Every one of them that she’s strung up, even a few she had reluctantly pushed to the corners this morning, are nowhere to be seen now. Her only way to speak to her baby, gone.

As she gapes around the room, her eyes land on the suspect, who’s kneeling on the couch and methodically replacing a new layer of wallpaper above it. Right were the letters used to be.

“Lonnie.” She doesn’t know how she finds her voice, but it doesn’t sound like herself. It’s too calm to match the anger burning within her chest.

Lonnie looks over his shoulder, unfazed. “There you are. Thought I had to call the cops when you disappeared this morning. Like mother, like son, huh?”

Joyce clenches her jaw tight at the normalcy of his tone. She glares at him, making Lonnie mockingly throw his hands up. 

“Oh, sorry. Never meant to say that. I was just worried about where you went.” Lonnie chuckles. Then he looks over her shoulder and his expression falls. Joyce dares a quick glance and sees Wayne standing awkwardly in the doorway. She cringes inwardly, motioning at the other man to leave. But Wayne doesn’t move. He just crosses his arms and stares back evenly at Lonnie.

When Joyce peers back at Lonnie, his eyes are darkened. She can hear his teeth grinding as he gets off the couch and towers over her. “Seriously? We just buried our son and you run off to-”

“What did you do to the lights?” Joyce cuts him off. Her voice is still and quiet.

Lonnie raises his eyebrows, his temper briefly quelshed with confusion. “What?”

“The lights, Lonnie. Why did you take them off? And why are you ruining the wallpaper?”

He has the audacity to sigh and shake his head as if his heart is breaking. That liar. “I threw them out.”

It feels like the world just stopped. “What?”

“Because your mind’s not right, Joyce. I can’t see you act like this, pretending that Will’s trapped in the walls-”

“Since when have you ever cared?” Frost drips out of her voice. She hopes it turns into icicles and stabs into her ex-husband’s heart.  “You never gave two shits about me when I had to bust your ass out of jail countless times and take up the night shifts because you couldn’t hold a job anymore. You never cared how hard or loud you’ve hurt me in front of Jonathan. You never, never cared about Will until you thought about hitting him too.”

“Joyce-”

“And now you show your face up, acting like the grieving husband and father so you can make everyone believe you’ve cared. But you never did. Because I bet it’s because of that sweet money the state’s going to donate to your pocket for acting like the way you are. So what gave you the fucking right to take down all of my lights, tear my wallpaper off, and act like it’s for the sake of my sanity?”

Lonnie throws his arms up, his face looming closer like he always does when they fight. “Because you’re sick, Joyce! You’re acting completely irrational and ruining this house-”

“I’m ruining the house? Is that what you care for now?!”

“Yes! Because this is where you and your son live in-”

“If you fucking dare to move back in here-”

Amidst their arguing, Joyce barely remembers Wayne. She just hopes that he had just left already, seeing no point in watching a couple’s dispute. It’ll hurt, but it would be the best for him. He doesn’t deserve being dragged into more of her messes.

Lonnie’s hand suddenly shoots towards her in a blur. Joyce instinctively flinches away, already feeling the phantom stinging of the previous slaps. 

But she doesn’t feel her head snapping to her side or taste sharp copper in her teeth. She peeks her eyes open (she doesn’t realize she had shut them) and sees Lonnie’s arm being held in the air by Wayne’s tight grip.

“If your way to end an argument is to hurt someone, then you’re better to take the loss and leave.” Wayne speaks to Lonnie’s face so softly that his usual gruff tone vanishes for a moment. Oh. Joyce realizes. That’s how his anger sounds.

Lonnie stares at him wide-eyed, a drop of sweat trailing down his cheek. His forearm whitens around Wayne’s fingers the longer they grip into the skin. Finally, Wayne leans away with a curt nod and lets him go, making Lonnie stumble back. He looks at them both before the familiar snarl of displeasure returns. 

“You’re both fucking crazy. You both deserve it together.” He spits just before he storms out, loudly slamming the front door shut. 

Trembling, Joyce glares through the still-open window as Lonnie starts up his car and promptly drives off. 

Wayne scoffs quietly, “Serves him right.”

It should be enough to let her relax and breathe again. But there’s so much of her anger boiling her veins that Joyce grabs her head and curls her fingers into her hair, pulling it harshly so that several strands get ripped out.

This should be enough. But there’s so much of her anger boiling her veins that Joyce grabs her head and curls her fingers into her hair, pulling it harshly so that several strands are ripped off.

She can hear Wayne calling her name. But she doesn’t listen or look at him. She just turns around and stomps her way down into the house. And then there’s a blast of cold air and heavy crunching of leaves under her feet. Before she knows it, Joyce yanks the shed’s door open.

The first thing she sees is a pair of shovels. She grabs them, only for both tools to be somehow tangled with each other. It makes her more mad as she struggles to separate them. But once they’re freed, they get caught against the other tools in the shed.

“You’re kidding me.” She says to nobody in particular except this stupid shed and whatever god is up in the sky who likes making her life miserable. She tries to shove her anger down, but the shovels are stuck again and they’re just banging against the shed, doing nothing but make the buzzing in her head louder and louder and she can’t think of anything other than-

“Joyce.” 

She jumps, her shoulders up to her ears. She whirls around, expecting to see Lonnie crawling back to her. But it’s only Wayne, standing just a few feet away.

She glares up at him. “What?” 

He looks wearily at her and at the shovels in her hands. “What are you doing right now?” Wayne asks, sounding too gentle like he’s trying to coax a scared animal. Thinking of that comparison makes Joyce even more mad.

“None of your damned business.” She hisses. She turns back to what she’s trapped herself in doing and tries to free the shovels. How is it this hard to get a couple shovels out?! 

But she still senses Wayne behind her, even approaching closer. She whips her head back to him, “Leave.”

Just after she says it, the shovels she’s been holding bang against some equipment inside, creating a cascade of metallic crashes.

Her frustration explodes. She drops the handles and kicks at the wall several times hard enough that it almost surprises her it doesn’t collapse. Her hands dig back into her hair as she yells up at the sky. And because Wayne is still here for some godforsaken reason, she yells at him too. 

“Just go! You already know how goddamn sick I am! Just go and spit on me after wasting your fucking time for sitting around and waiting for your nephew-”

Wayne takes another step forward and-

He hugs her. 

Joyce stiffens at first, a second of shock overcoming her. Then she lets go of her hair just so she can pound her fists onto his chest, attempting to twist away from his embrace. Bad women like her don’t deserve hugs like this.

“What did I tell you about using others to comfort your pain, Joyce? Now I’m going to feel awful for wanting to give you a hug. You see what you’ve done? To your own mother, no else?”

Wayne doesn’t let her go. Instead, he smooths her hair down, careful at the aching patches where she’d just abused her scalp. Something about that motion makes Joyce to drop her arms down. Her breath shudders as she lets her face be buried into Wayne’s cardigan. It smells like cigarettes, old oak leaves, and flour oddly enough.

It sends a crack somewhere through her heart.

She doesn’t recognize the wretched sound coming out of her mouth. It sounds like a dying animal, too rough and guttural as if it wants to cut through her throat. Her small body wracks violently with every sob like it’s desperate to rattle her soul out to leave this earth. She wants to leave, but Wayne isn’t letting her. He keeps her arms tight around her, slightly rocking them side to side like a father does to a child. Just like how Joyce does to Will and Jonathan after a bad day and night. 

Thinking about it restarts the cycle of tears again.

After she feels her tears are spent and regains control of her breathing, Joyce taps on Wayne’s arm. He gets the message and unwraps himself from her, though he keeps a hand on her shoulder. The front of his cardigan is nearly soaked through but he doesn’t raise a complaint.

Joyce’s eyes feel swollen. There’s snot and tears running down her face, which she’s quick to wipe away. Once she’s sure she can speak without another threat of tears, she mumbles, “Sorry about that..” 

“No need to apologize. Seems you really needed that.” Wayne tells her softly. She looks up at him and there’s a small sincere quirk of his lips. Not a single ounce of malice or pity is shining out of his doe eyes, just complete reassurance and comfort. 

It almost makes Joyce cry again, but she holds it together and just sniffs her snot back in. 

Silence falls between them, but it’s not as awkward or tense as Joyce expects. It’s more comforting. Maybe breaking down in front of someone who doesn’t immediately taunt her does more wonders than she thinks.

“Do you want to explain why you were wrestling with these shovels?” Wayne asks. A flush of shame comes over Joyce and she looks down to the ground again. Crosses her arms as if it’ll prevent herself from answering.

“Joyce?”

She lets out a shaky sigh. Fuck it. Wayne’s been with her this far.

“I want to go back to the cemetery.” 

There’s a pause. She doesn’t look up as Wayne asks, “Come again?”

She sighs again. Flicks her eyes up to stare directly at Wayne. “I want to see who was that boy they buried as Will.”

Wayne furrows his brows. Then the realization comes over him. “You-”

“I know it’s stupid and very illegal.” Joyce keeps her hands to herself so they don’t flail around, takes a step away from him. There’s something wrong with her in which every time she wants to be taken seriously, another thing happens that keeps testing Wayne’s patience for her.

She continues, “But I can’t stand it. I know in my heart and soul that whoever they found in that quarry just looks like Will, but it’s not him! If it was, they would’ve allowed an open casket or let me stay with him for a bit before-” Her breath shudders again. “I just want to know what the hell is going on!”

Joyce tears her gaze away from Wayne, staring at the ground as if it’ll rip open and spit Will back to her. “If you want to throw me into jail or Pennhurst for this, then go ahead. If you’re fed up with my ‘delusions’-” she spat the word, “then leave and forget about me.”

The silence drags for a horribly long time that Joyce can see their shadows extending before her eyes. Then Wayne’s feet shuffle out of her view. She closes her eyes, shivering from the cold catching up to her.

Then there’s a little nudge on her arm along with Wayne’s gruff voice speaking, “Alright, better now than later.”

Joyce blinks her eyes open, her jaw falling open at the sight of Wayne back to her side and holding out a shovel to her. While carrying the second, no less. “W-Wha-?”

“You’re right on a couple things.” Wayne interjects her kindly. “There’s some strange stuff happening around here these past few days. It has to do with our boys going missing and we both know they’re alive somewhere. If you’re beyond certain that the kid you saw being buried isn’t Will, then nothing hurts to check.”

Joyce almost wants to laugh. She almost asks Wayne if he’s losing it. But she sees that look in his eyes, the hard determination she’s seen in herself too. It gives her a spark of hope again.

She takes the offered shovel. She has to bite the insides of her cheek to keep some hysterical giddiness from showing. Staring into Wayne’s eyes, she says, “If you’re in this with me, for what we’re about to do, then you need to also help me out if we get caught by Hopper.”

Wayne gives out an exasperated sigh, but his mouth quirks up something resembling a smirk. “Let me double check my bail money first.”

—

As they drive up into the cemetery, it’s gotten dark enough that all of the headstones look like lumps. Undead potato lumps. A morbid joke that his sister Suzanna once shared with Wayne when they were kids and has somewhat stayed in his vocabulary. Once he slipped and said it around Eddie few years ago, who had gladly adopted the phrase.

“The grave’s over there.” Joyce frowns, pointing over to a direction behind them.

“And we’re going to stop here.” Wayne says, parking the truck at the very end of the road where the oldest areas of the cemetery start embracing the woods. “Wouldn’t want to park near your boy’s grave and get caught too soon.”

Joyce makes a small ah sound. Wayne cuts the engine and headlights off and they both get out. He takes the shovels from the truck’s back, along with a crowbar and a flashlight. Joyce raises an eyebrow at the crowbar but says nothing as she takes the flashlight and the lead to their destination.

They hurry further in half-crouches, carefully weaving around the other gravestones. The groundskeeper has night shifts for a reason and lord forbid if there’s any sneaking reporters hungry for pictures.

“Here.” Joyce whispers. There’s almost no need for her to point it out with the too-new marble headstone and bouquets of flowers are placed on the recently-buried dirt.

They stand together on the side, staring down at the ground. A little adrenaline rush of I am actually doing this comes down onto Wayne. He should feel ashamed of himself. That he should have listened to his logical side of not helping a grieving woman’s delusions and now it’ll start a landslide effect of following Al’s forbidden footsteps.

But he doesn’t feel anything. A little nerves, sure. But otherwise? He’s just calm. Nothing towards himself or Joyce.

Maybe he’s like this because a part of him already wants to dig up Eddie’s grave in the future just to hold his boy close for the last time.

Or it’s just the Munson thing.

He breathes slowly, repositioning his grip of his shovel and handing the other to Joyce.

She doesn’t take it. She stares down at the still-fresh dirt with a lost expression. “But what if I’m wrong? That all this time, this is Will and everyone was right but I’ve been denying it?”

“Then you’ll cry.”

She looks up, shooting him a baffled look.

“You’ll cry, either out of relief or grief.” He continues, nudging the shovel’s handle to her. “It’s the best any of us can do. And what happens next is up to you.”

Joyce’s eyes well up again but she shuts them tight, her expression shifting to the hard determination Wayne is already familiar with. She opens her eyes and takes the shovel in her hands. Then she gives him a single nod.

Wayne nods back and plunges the shovel’s blade into the dirt.

It’s less back-breaking than he expects. Benefits of growing up south and spending years at the plant, he supposes. The soil’s still loose enough so it might’ve helped easing their efforts. But his arms and knees start to ache after one and half feet in. Joyce’s already trembling at this point, pausing to catch her breath every minute or two.

“I’m not sitting down until we get to the damn casket.” Joyce pants out before Wayne opens his mouth. He wisely keeps it shut.

By the time their shovels hit polished wood, it’s fully dark and a absolute miracle that any groundskeeper hasn’t heard them. Yet. Wayne snatches the flashlight and kneels down to sweep the soil off while Joyce collapses to her feet.

“God.” She tilts her head back, seemingly regretting the motion as it brings some dirt falling on her hair. “I’d almost prefer Mr. Turlington’s gym classes to this.”

“If this was his grave, we would’ve made him proud. Hold this.” Wayne hands the flashlight to her.

“I can barely lift my arms!” Joyce protests, but she takes the flashlight, keeping the beam aimed at the head of the casket. Wayne feels his hands around the edges, shuffling more of the tightly pressed earth away.

He stands up, reaching out for the crowbar above. He moves slowly, feeling conscious of the fact that there is a young boy’s body inside. Any more quicker and heavier movement he and Joyce make might just break the casket itself.

“Did ya get the casket sealed?” He asks.

“No, finding the right casket itself was expensive enough.” Joyce winces right after she says it, as if paying for a casket by itself is the most shameful thing in the world. She eyes at the crowbar in his hands. “Why do you ask?”

“From what I heard, unsealed caskets are easier to reopen.” Wayne kneels back down, roughly scooping out a few handfuls of one wall so there’s a small pocket of space. He looks again at Joyce, silently asking are you sure about this?

She gives him an unwavering stare that all but replies with yes, get on with it.

Wayne wedges the crowbar to the side of the lid. He silently prays that this action won’t taint his memory for eternity and then pushes down on the crowbar with all of his might.

It takes about what feels like hours before a crack resounds and the casket opens. Wayne grabs onto the newly freed lid, pushing it up until the top hits the earthy wall.

Joyce makes a choked noise, almost close to a sob. Wayne himself recoils at the sight of Will Byers’ too-pale face, eyes softly shut as if he was just sleeping.

But the smell…

Wayne sniffs the air. Continues for a moment, unsure if his senses are messing with him. With his eyes still on the boy’s face, he asks, “Do you smell anything?”

A strained chuckle comes out of Joyce. “What?”

“Do you smell anything?”

Joyce falls silent before she starts sniffing. Then again with more consideration. “..No. Just the dirt.”

Wayne manages to tear his gaze away from the boy and back to Joyce. “Doesn’t matter how much chemicals you put in a body for preservation, the smell of rot comes back as soon it’s buried.”

Realization dawns on her face. Then she carefully crawls over next to him, ducking under Wayne’s arm as he still holds the lid up. Joyce looks down at the body and slowly reaches a hand out to the face of her son. She gently cups the cheek, bringing a terrified expression upon her before it shifts into a frown of doubt.

“Do- Do bodies always feel like plastic?” She asks slowly. Wayne looks at her with shared confusion and reaches out to touch the boy’s face. However, his hand must have been too slow or too quick because it instead brushes against Joyce’s.

She gives out a too-loud startled squeal, her head bumping hard against Wayne’s chin. He falls back, hearing a small groan from Joyce. In the process, he loses his grip on the lid and barely stops it from slamming shut by kicking his leg out and holding it up halfway. The weight’s gonna bruise it for days.

“Ow, oh, Wayne!” Joyce is suddenly fretting above him, rubbing the back of her head. “I’m so sorry! You didn’t mean to startle me that bad, it’s just the nerves and-”

“I’m alright.” Wayne means it, even if his chin and leg might not. He’s had worse than beginner’s level grave-robbing. “It’s my fault I scared ya.”

Joyce’s shaking her head. “No, really, I’m sorry-”

Wayne grunts as he slowly pushes himself up. “Would ya get the lid off my leg first?”

“Oh, of course!” Joyce scampers back, groaning with effort as she pushes the lid off. Wayne pulls his leg back to him, rubbing the bone carefully. Yep, he can feel a bruise coming.

“Wayne.” Joyce’s voice is very still.

He sits up more upright. “What’s wrong?”

Joyce doesn’t answer. Her back’s toward him, the flashlight still shining inside the casket. Wayne scoots closer, peering down to see-

Will’s head turned on the side, no longer attached to his body.

It feels like Wayne’s soul is exhumed out of his body all at once. His first thought is, oh lord I just decapitated a dead kid in front of his mother. But somehow through his panic, he notices that despite the damage, there’s not a spot of blood anywhere.

Joyce reaches her hand in again and picks up something. Holds it up close to the flashlight for a closer look.

It’s a wad of cotton.

Wayne checks the head and neck of the body. Thick wads of cotton sticks out of both ends.

“I knew this wasn’t Will.” Joyce whispers, her tone devoid of anything save a hint of triumph somewhere. “None of his moles match and there wasn’t even a birthmark.”

Wayne stays silent, staring down at the body that is not Will Byers. Who that half of the town came and mourned for just hours ago. All of this for a fake body.

“Wayne?”

Joyce’s looking at him, concerned. It feels terribly juxtaposed. A grieving mother sitting atop of her son’s fake body wanting to know if he’s alright.

“Did they tell ya who found the body?”

Joyce thinks for a moment before replying, “Not anyone specific. I think Hopper said it was somebody from the state.”

Wayne swallows but his throat’s too dry. He lifts his gaze up towards the sky at last. The stars are coming out. “Chief told me that the state’s taking over Eddie’s case.”

They both become quiet for a long time. Until they both catch a faint whistling tune of the groundskeeper. Then it’s a mad careful scramble out of there.

—

Brenner studies the new dummy on the table, taking a glance at the reference photographs laid out on the desk besides McNeil, who stands on the opposite side and poorly hiding his fidgeting.

There’s nothing wrong with McNeil’s works. It’s a masterpiece, much like the previous. Anyone who never touched a human body or kept on his payroll wouldn’t notice the difference.

But Brenner always sees flaws in perfection. That’s the duty in being a scientist. Running through the tests over and over until the subjects are one hundred plus ten percent faultless.

It always leaves a bitter taste on his tongue when he skips over a mistake, even for the sake of studying. He’s being more considerate these days after the disastrous cases with Henry and Eleven.

“Is this accurate to the boy’s measurements?” He asks. McNeil stops fidgeting and straightens up with an air of confidence that should be permanent.

“Yes, sir.”

Brenner eyes the small flock of bats and devilish marionette inked on the right arm. “Is this the only tattoos he has?”

“No, sir.”

“Then where are they?”

McNeil clears his throat, almost looking away from Brenner. “It’s difficult to perfect the other designs when there’s bare references of what they exactly look like. Tattoos are heavily variable, sir.”

Brenner sighs quietly in disappointment. He’ll save this discussion of incompetence much later, preferably once Eleven returns. “Then find the exact designs and make sure they match.” He looks down at the blank intimation of Eddie Munson’s face, thinking for a moment. “And give it the impression that it’s been deceased for longer than Will Byers-”

The door suddenly opens and Agent Sterling walks in with an annoyed expression. “We have an intruder.”

Brenner frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

She gestures for him to follow and he’s lead to the screening room of their security footage. One of them shows the police chief Jim Hopper cautiously walking through the basement level, undoubtedly heading to the room with Eleven’s gate.

Brenner can’t help but chuckle. That man truly wants to know more about what they are doing.

“Should we eliminate him?” Agent Sterling asks.

He shakes his head, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No. Just tranquilize him and send him back home. Place our listening device somewhere in his residence as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopher @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost @niniel-karenine @tinyplanet95

[opheliajupiter99]

Death's Cold Embrace Pt. 2 (OUAW Horror Fanfic)

*The rest of the Carnivale had settled down to camp while they waited for Gricko to come back with Frost. The moon had hung high in the sky for quite some time now, and still Gricko had not returned. Hootsie whimpered, her head laid in Gideon's lap as he attempted to comfort the poor girl, dearly missing her papa*

*Torbek had fallen asleep, while Twig sat near Kremy, pouting as she looked up at him* "What if morning comes, and Gricko's still not back?" *She says, cupping her hands together as she speaks. Kremy looks out towards where Gricko had walked, sighing heavily* "Then we go find him." *He says, pausing for a moment to think before continuing* "...But if both of them end up lost, it must've been something real bad. The two of them ain't pushovers, after all."

*The two of them fall silent, trying not to imagine what kind of horrible monster could've not only taken both of them, but taken them without any of them noticing. Gricko was a bit easier to explain, as he'd wandered off out of sight; but what about Frost? One moment he was there, the next he wasn't. What could've possibly done that?*

*They continued to wait, but eventually the ache of sleep called to each of them, one of one, until each was tucked away in their sleeping bags. As Twig slept, she dreamed; but it wasn't as she normally dreamed. She was lost in black, swirling emptiness, only occasionally greeted with a sudden image, flashing through her head like a burst of lightning, scattered glimpses of a tower and a figure looming in the shadows. Then, she heard a voice...*

"Twigfield...come to me..."

*The voice sounded like Frost, but the tone in which the voice spoke was much darker; a haunting, looming threat. Despite this however, she found herself lulled by the strange voice, and her mind seemed to grow numb. So numb, in fact, that she didn't even realize that, while her mind remained dreaming, her body rose from its sleep, and her tired wings fluttered gently towards the voice, like a moth's wings would flutter towards a flame*

*When morning came, the remaining carnies found themselves missing now three members of their group. Torbek hugged Hootsie close, as they both were on the verge of a panic attack at this point, while Kremy and Gideon sat close together, trying to stay strong for the sake of the others*

*The husbands were silent for a few moments, Kremy with his legs tucked up against his chest, and his hands over his knees, head leaned against them as he stared off at nothing in particular, while Gideon sat with his legs outwards, fists clenching and unclenching as his face formed a scowl* "How the fuck could this happen?!" *The Genasi finally blurted out, startling the poor owlbear cub nearby that nuzzled closer to her Bugbear uncle*

*Kremy put a hand to his beloved shoulder* "Hey, hey, calm down, a'ight? It's gonna be-" *He began, before said beloved pulled away from his grasp, glaring at it* "Don't tell me it's gonna be fuckin' alright! Somethin's pickin' us off one by one right under our fuckin' noses! We don't know what the fuck happened to em, where they went, or even what the fuck it even is! I think I'm well within my goddamn wrong's to not calm the fuck down!" *Kremy just hung his head as Gid had this outburst, staring down at the ground in shame*

*After a moment, Gid's face softened a bit, sighing* "...I'm sorry. I just...what the fuck are we gonna do, man? Whatever this is clearly has a leg up on us - I mean we can't even spot it long enough to see em poof away." *The somber gator remains silent, still staring at the ground. Despite his demeanor of being a 'solo act' as it were, not caring for anyone beyond himself, he couldn't help but be filled with a venomous self-loathing whenever one of his dear family was harmed, especially by something he felt like he should've been able to stop in some way*

"...Bait." *The gator said finally, Gid blinking* "What?" "Bait." *Kremy repeated* "If whatever it is picks us off one by one and waits for some kind of right time to do it, then...one of us could be bait. Even if we don't -see- it show up, we could get some kind of idea of what it is, what it does, that sorta thing." *He said, his expression and tone both somber, knowing full well the kind of risk that person would be putting themselves under. The husbands look between each other, silent for several long, miserable moments; both were willing to sacrifice themselves, but neither wanted to lose the other*

"Torbek can go." *Torbek said suddenly, breaking the silence. The pair both looked to him* "N-No, come on man...we can't let you get locked up again." *Gideon said, frowning with concern. Torbek shook his head* "Torbek can't raise Hootsie. Mr. Kremy and Mr. Gideon promised they'd raise Hootsie if anything happened to Gricko, didn't you?" *The husbands look to each other, and each nodded slowly* "If Torbek has to get locked up again - or even die - Torbek wants to do it for his friends. And cause Torbek -chose- to do it, not cause somebody else told him to."

*Gideon felt tears come to the corners of his eyes; he knew that desire all too well. He always felt that he didn't care much how or when he died, as long as he died a free man - and a death in service of his friends would be the greatest death of all. He took a deep breath, and nodded* "I can't take choice away from a man whose had so few. We'll keep you as safe as we can, man...I promise." *Kremy frowned deeply, his guilty conscious only growing heavier - but Gid was right. It was Torbek's choice. He shut his eyes tight as tears formed, and nodded slowly*

*The group agreed to wait until nightfall to enact this plan, as that's when whatever it was they were dealing with seemed to strike. They ate, and enjoyed each other's company in the meantime, trying to keep Hootsie's spirits up as best they could, as well as steel their own nerves*

*...All while a dazed little Brownie sat perched high up in a tree nearby, staring blankly down towards the campsite, as her new master watched through her eyes*

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

I don't wanna miss a thing

on ao3, Rated G - read it how you'd like, platonic or romantic rulie/peterpatterlina

Julie walks into the studio to the sound of Aerosmith blasting through the speakers. She laughs to herself, ever conflicted by the way her boys share her dad’s music taste but loving the nostalgia offered by dad rock.

What does surprise Julie is that the studio is nearly empty with Reggie hanging out alone sifting through a pile of CDs. He’s seldom the one seeking solitude, opting more often than not to hang out with Ray or Carlos inside. 

“What’d you find?” she asks, making him jump in surprise. Julie giggles as a blush makes its way up his face.

He looks down at the pile in front of him and then back up at her, “Found some unmarked CDs in the loft. Thought I’d see what was on ‘em.” He smiles before continuing, “Haven’t been disappointed yet.”

Julie laughs as she settles in next to him, “No, I don’t imagine so.”

She leans into Reggie and he wraps his arm around her shoulders while they listen in silence for a moment. 

“You probably know Aerosmith?” she asks as she tilts her head up to look at him.

“Of course, not this one though,” he replies, smiling down at her and planting a kiss on her forehead. 

“I think you probably found Dad’s sappy collection. He made these CDs for Mami all the time when we were little. Probably have a tape collection hiding somewhere too.”

Just then, the song changes and Reggie’s eyes light up. “I know this one!” he cheers as he jumps up, dislodging Julie from his side. “Dance with me?” he asks, extending his hand out to her.

Julie sits herself back up and sends him a confused look, “You know how to dance?”

“Yeah!” Reggie enthuses as if it should be obvious and then his voice softens, “Mom was a big fan of swing. Some of our good times were dancing in the kitchen together. The boys never let me throw them around though.”

Julie laughs, “I’d pay good money to see that.”

He curls his fingers at her impatiently, “C’mon, dance with me!”

Julie sighs and stands up, taking his hand and letting him lead her around the space. 

They carefully navigate around the furniture until Reggie gets frustrated and stops them to move the coffee table to the edge of the studio and takes her hand again. 

He’s a bit rusty and Julie has never swing danced before but she does alright at following his lead, letting him spin her around and dip her at his whimsy, giggling as he does so. They only run into each other and she only steps on his toes a handful of times.

“I want to bop with you baby, all night long I want to be-bop with you baby till the break of dawn I want to bop with you baby all night I want to bop with you baby all night long” Reggie sings as they dance, halfway out of breath due to how quickly they’re moving.

They slow down as the song ends and when it transitions into the next one, he pulls her close into his chest, slow dancing to the new songs.

“I don’t know this one,” Reggie whispers into her hair.

Julie smiles up at him, “I do.”

She starts to sing along as they circle the space, “I’ll be your crying shoulder I'll be love's suicide And I'll be better when I'm older I'll be the greatest fan of your life.”

“It’s beautiful,” he says, holding her close. 

Julie rests her head on his shoulder as she agrees, “Yeah. It is.”

They dance in silence for another verse and are interrupted when Luke poofs into the studio.

“Dancing without me?” he asks with a pout that they can hear.

Reggie and Julie both let out soft chuckles before opening their arms to him.

“Come dance with us,” Julie offers and he immediately settles in between them as they finish out the song.

“You should let Reggie dance with you,” Julie tells Luke as they pull apart.

Luke looks between them with wide eyes. “I’d love to dance with you, Reg,” he says.

“You’d swing dance with me?” Reggie asks, skepticism lacing his voice.

“I didn’t know I could,” Luke mutters and Reggie sighs. 

“I spent years trying to get you to dance with me.”

“Yeah, but…” Luke tries to explain as he gestures between himself and Reggie. 

“You deserve to be spun around and dipped too, Luke,” Julie smiles at him.

“What if he drops me?” Luke wonders, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then you fall,” Julie whispers back, placing Luke’s hand in Reggie’s. “You’ll survive.”

“Also, trust me,” Reggie adds with a grin of his own. 

Reggie is relieved when the next song is another quick one that they can swing to though it’s another he doesn’t recognize. It doesn’t take him long to find the beat and Julie’s enjoying watching the two of them twirl around the space. 

She muffles a laugh into her hand as Luke stumbles around, doing his best to keep the pace that Reggie’s setting.

Reggie decides to slow them to half time to get Luke used to the movement but also following. 

Julie can’t help but sway and sing along as they find their groove and Luke sends love stricken looks her way as she does. 

“I'm lookin' for a whole lot more Than a one night rodeo What can I do To prove to you I'm layin' it on the line I'll even get down on my knees.”

Reggie shakes Luke and gives him a pointed look when he gets his attention back, “If you pay attention, I’m less likely to drop you.”

“But Julie,” Luke whispers to him.

“I know. You can look at her after. I’m gonna dip you now.”

“Don’t drop me!” Luke exclaims and Reggie glares at him.

“Trust me,” Reggie utters out between clenched teeth before sending Luke out for another spin and then pulling him back and dipping him.

When he’s pulled back up to standing, Luke lets out the breath that he’d been holding. 

“Fun, right?” Julie asks as she appears at their side. 

Luke’s eyes are bright as he turns to her, a little bit breathless, “Yeah. We should do that more.” He reaches out for Reggie and puts his arm around his shoulders, pulling Reggie into his side. “Thanks, Reg. We should teach Alex and Willie.”

Julie’s eyes widen in excitement, “Yeah! We should. Good idea, Luke!”

Reggie’s face falls into a pout and Julie immediately notices. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. 

“Odd numbers,” he explains.

“Oh. Well we can get Flynn. And Carrie. But that’s odd again. We can take turns! We’ll figure it out. There will be no Reggie-Wheeling on my watch! I promise,” Julie assures him and Reggie directs a small smile her way. 

“Thanks, Jules,” Reggie says as he pulls her between him and Luke and they wrap her into a hug, both planting kisses to the top of her head before smiling at each other over her. 

[minminho0]

✤------------------------------------------✤

◈You're cute◈

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⧼!Catboy!Scaramouche x Reader⧽

-Fluff

Gender: Gender neutral

Warnings: --

A/n: This is my first time writing a fanfic so please be gentle with me♡ This idea has been stuck in my mind for a week now so i decided to just do it myself since i cant find someone who has done this idea.

His not like his usual mean charcter here because i based this to his past self(kunikuzushi). Im not sure but i heard he was the exact opposite back then than he is now so ye

I hope you enjoy~!

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"After weeks i finally finished this project yay!" I said saving the file and turning off my computer.

"Gosh, Im so hungry"

I sat up and headed to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and saw that it was empty.

"Uhhh i forgot to buy groceries again"

I went back to my room and took my wallet and phone.

I opened the front door and went out.

Startes heading to the grocery store after i locked the front door.

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'Ah yes the smell of grocery stores never fails to make me relax' (is it just me or-?)

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'Im so tired right now, i just want to go home' I thought. Walking through the road i suddenly felt a water drop on my face, i looked up and saw that the clouds were dark and ready to pour any second now.

I hurried to a nearby bus stop for shelter since my house is a bit far.

I sat down at one of the benches when suddenly i heard a quiet meow.

I looked around and saw a kitty under the bench.

I crouched down to see more of the cat.

"Aww what a cute little kitty like you doing here, poor thing"

I reached out my hand but the kitty quickly scratched it.

"Ah-!..thats ok since you're cute!"

"Dont worry, kitty! I wont hurt you! I promise"

"How bout from now on ill take care of you~!" I said while reaching out my hand again. I pet its head and the cat leaned in to my hand.

"Awwww so adorable~!"

But then poof!

Wth-

Who the heck is this man-

"Wh-who are you!? W-wheres the cat!?" i screamed

"Its m-me! Im the cat!"??? Said

"Wdym!? Get off me!"

"But you said you'd take care of me!"

"Well to the cat!? Not to a man!"

"But its still me! Im still the cat!"

"A cat and a guy are different!"

"Ehh! But its still me and you said you'd take care of me... :("

"Wha-"

The random dude took my hand and hold it near his chest and said " please..you told me.. So pls take care of me..."

'Tch! The audacity of this guy! Ah honestly!' I thought.

"Tch.. Come on now, you might get sick" i said seeing that the clouds cleared up.

"... Thank you..miss"??? Said smiling and followed me.

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"Ok now go take a bath there and heres some clothes" i said handing him some clothes.

"Ok miss thank yo-"

"Oh ya call me y/n"

"Thank you y/n I really appreciate it"??? Bowed down.

"What urs?"i asked

"Oh- i dont have..one.."??? Said quietly

"Ah then ill give you one..uhm your name will be kunikushi, in short kuni!"

"Thank you" kuni said smiling.

"You're welcome"

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"Just so you know im only doing this because youre cute asf"

"Oh..

---

*Masterlist*

-January 5, 2023

[c--91]

Darkest Magick #12: Dancing in the Diamond Theater

Just beyond the paper-thin limits of mortal perception lies a home for the fantastic and the surreal, a plane that refuses to bend to the laws of ordinary space and time. Mystified and mischievous entities freely danced and twirled, their forms presented as little more than impressionistic blobs of chaotic energy. No reasoning could be applied, no train of thought was built to last - the Nomad’s Plane was in the service of the subconscious, the thoughts that directed us in the deepest edges of our dreams, now brought into clear, unfiltered reality. From time to time, whether it be an intentional mission or an accidental trip through a rabbit hole, mortals will find themselves traversing this parallel realm. There has never been one single method of entering the Nomad’s Plane and there never will be. Entities may look upon them with wonder, just as the mortals look back with confusion. Strangers are often met with the friendlier side of the Plane - those with quite tangible forms, cohesive thoughts and familiar languages. As long as one does not stray off from the central path, the threat of imminent chaos will at least be minimized, and an unforgettable experience is highly possible. The farther one strays off the path and into the dark wilderness, the more it becomes unclear, paradoxical, surreal. Even in the Nomad’s Plane, the Diamond Theatre never had a fixed location. Typically hidden behind walls of fog at extremely late hours of the night, a confused onlooker heading to their car may squint at the enticing, distant glow of circus lights and fun music. Dancing, winding beings of swirling color spun gracefully, smiling and laughing back at the hapless stranger as they beckoned them further inside. It wasn’t the type of thing one would expect hiding behind a gas station or in an empty parking lot that hasn’t been visited in half a decade, but that is how the story always goes. Rumors of a haunted theater often got around in the places it regularly appeared - the Nowhere, USA types of areas - and like any good rumor, there were always just enough people lacking in self-preservation to seek it out. Those who ultimately do find out come back with vague, mumbling recounts. Some were gone for weeks or months or even years. Others disappeared completely and never returned, ever again. Nobody knew why. — “More passion! More ENERGY!” The stage director sat diligently in the front row, holding a clipboard as she shouted out to the dancer. Her rounded, oversized glasses hid most of the maskarella’s expressions, but like any of the others, her skin was ghostly white and adorned in some level of garish color. Pink lips matched her pink bobbing hair, along with the ridiculously large fedora. Amongst fellow denizens of the theater,  there was no such thing as looking too ridiculous, and the boldest of the bold were the most rewarded. “Strut those stockings, clown! Jiggle those jugs! Clack those heels!” Despite the monochromatic cat’s experience with being nimble and unnaturally stretchy, she was genuinely shocked at how graceful she was in these stompy, high-platformed stilettos. The spins of a ballerina were pulled with zero effort, her arms flexing in and out and above her head as she flowed across the stage, then followed it up with a series of backflips. Every clack of her heels produced an obnoxious HONK that echoed through the empty theater. And despite her comically oversized breasts being in the way constantly, the skimpy suit did a good job of keeping them in place rather than haphazardly flopping in random directions or smacking her in the face. The green aura brought Charlie’s thigh straight up to her chest, nearly parallel with her standing body. The energy was not incredibly forceful, but it was enough that she complied with its physical commands, which were clearly all extensions of the Director’s words. With a quick magick POOF, she summons a striped green clown horn, then proceeds to strategically honk at her own crotch. HONK! HONK HONK HONK!! A layer of sweat covered her chest, running down her torso, neck and arms. Her uniform was already glossy, but the perspiration brought a slight extra shine to her cursed nylons and her bodysuit. The plastered-on fake grin and her tired eyes nestled somewhere between uncanny and honest with her successful performance. She was learning fast. Charlie’s ears perked up in the direction of a quiet chuckle. She glanced over at the director with some level of contempt in her eyes, but it was the kind of contempt where she knew not to do it too much or else she would face another reprimanding. The feeling of not saying how she felt and the freedom of doing as she pleased being stripped away was painful. It was suffocating. It was worse than anything she experienced as a human, and it was the entire reason she put on the Gothic Cat suit in the first place: to feel unbound and unafraid as her insecurities dropped away. Not that it mattered anymore, anyway, as the suit elements of her transformation had been long dissolved into her actual being, so to have this happen on top of it was likely confirmation that she’d probably never see her former male Charlie Cat body, ever again, let alone the human body that predated it.  Or maybe she was overthinking it. The permanent piano-like grin etched across her face never faltered nor fell down - it was a sickening, plastic smile that betrayed every conviction in her soul, and it kept her completely dead silent except for the perpetual jingles and honks of her maskarella uniform. Maskarellas did not wear masks or uniforms to hide their real feelings. She approached the Director. “Very decent performance, clown. You did well.” Charlie bowed slightly. “We’re certainly teaching this naughty troublemaking cat a lesson, now aren’t we?” Charlie grimaced through her frozen grin, daring to furrow her brows at the Director. “A silly stretchy kitty terrorizing an innocent city with his own version of righteousness? That is deserving of some rehabilitation, don’t you think? Perhaps giving back to those you disturbed - even for a little while - might humble you?” Is everything a rhetorical question with you? The more questions she was given, the more her frustration grew. Who the hell did I disturb, bitch? I was HELPING people. Her voice was middle-aged and experienced - the cat assumed she was some type of teacher in a past life. “You can dwell on how wrong things are, clown, or you can accept what has become of your fate. We could let this go on for a week - or we could keep you forever. It hardly matters to me. The important thing is I believe you see others as being the enemy to your visions, and until you see otherwise, it’s the safest to keep you here and train you into a proper, respectable maskarella. I promise you will find no dull moments here in the Diamond Theatre.” Charlie’s fists tensed up and clenched, only for her to release her tension. Her shoulders hung and her head tipped down. The ceiling lights in the enormous auditorium illuminated her silken legs perfectly, and she didn’t bother to look away or get distracted. Of all the stupid ways to drag someone into a curse, this is what the maskarellas chose to do with him? Or rather… her. She ran a gloved hand down her thigh, pinching at the stockings as she watched the material snap back to her thigh. It’s easy to forget how much the thigh high heels simply covered so much of her legs versus how much they were now exposed. Charlie Clown expected to stop thinking about them after a few days, but her legs were such a prominent part of her outfit that it was basically impossible. They absolutely were gorgeous to look at and fit the theme of being a world-class performer. It’s not like she didn’t have experience with such a thing given how her former Gothic Cat suit functioned, but this was recontextualized into something designed to shame her… Or at least in her mind, it did. Charlie’s enjoyment of crossdressing and embracing the forbidden freedoms of the opposite gender were really put on display now that she was actually forced to become female. What felt like instruments of kink fulfillment were now just daily, ordinary things she had to wear for work, and her brain had to learn to adjust. This was all on top of being transformed into an ethereal being that did not function like a mortal creature. In a sense, the curse binding her to this maskarella form revolved exclusively around crossdressing. It also didn’t help that the size of her breasts were a constant distraction, which was categorically the worst part of the curse. She lived in fear of the Director saying “make them bigger” again in response to any kind of insult or disobedience, and they only shrunk back to a manageable size if she was on good behavior, so that’s what she did. Any amount of squeezing or slapping of her breasts would produce a cartoon-style HONK that would immediately result in everyone present to begin laughing, or at the very least, ask some pertinent questions, so she was very careful where she placed her hands while doing literally anything. In some way, it helped that people were far more drawn to the breasts and her swirling eyes than the actual cause of the curse, so she counted her blessings. The Director tapped the clipboard. “Are we ready for our next act? Remember: how you look in rehearsal is how you will look in a live show. The attitude and confidence you bring to me is what shall be brought to your loving audience. Understood?” Charlie Clown nodded. “Good. Let’s begin our next routine.” --- In a shocking turn of events, I have decided to resurrect my Darkest Magick series from the dead for CLOWN WEEK! A fun time to write about maskarellas, as well as the mystifying Nomad's Plane and the Diamond Theater. I have also decided that a familiar troublemaking rubbery cat has finally been caught and punished for the chaos he caused! And in classic maskarella fashion, it's something of an ironic punishment. How long will he stay this way? Who knows? He - or rather, she - better get used to clowning around!

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