#no longer desperately trying to sort-of pass as human

[kbrechtel]

fuck it, we bell

(Bright, an old DnD character. I miss him.)

[yanderemommabean]

My dearest butterfly, 

I usually pride myself on having a way with words, never having my tongue tied, never having to stutter or stumble, and yet, with you, I find it hard to even breathe let alone speak. Ever since the day you stepped into my clinic, stepped into my life, I’ve found myself in a fog, never able to say what I feel, to speak with confidence, like without you I'm some sort of shell of myself. 

As a doctor, I assumed I was ill, sick, perhaps coming down with something that would pass with rest and time. However, I found out the truth- I was sick of course, but nothing that would be cured with needles and antibiotics. 

My dear butterfly, I have come to find out, my ailment is love sickness. As cutesy as that sounds, what I mean to say is- I'm utterly obsessed with you, and cannot rest or feel alive until I see you in my sight, or feel you by my side. 

The fact I am blessed enough to touch you, to examine every area, intimate or not, to be trusted with your darkest medical secrets-It fuels me more than any other patient has. With you, curing you and your health just has more meaning to me, has more depth and humanity. You have that way about you, making me feel deeper than any human ever has, reaching my core and burrowing deep within the walls of my heart. 

This letter is nothing but a love filled ramble, but one I simply had to write. I can no longer hide how I feel, how I crave. I don't expect you to know what to do with all of this information right away, so, I’ll give you a few good rules to go by while everything sets in and has time to process. 

This is all true. I adore you, deeper than anyone could ever adore you, and more intense than any past lover could ever dream 

I refuse to let you try and deny me. You can be coy, you can be shy, you can even need time and space, but you wont be with anyone else but me in the romantic sense. I’ll take whatever precautions I need to ensure this rule is followed. 

I mean you absolutely no harm, however, as mentioned above, I’ll do what I must. Just sit back and take in what you need, but know, I’m utterly sick for you darling, there’s no way you can turn me away, be your attempts silly or desperate. 

I’ll be sure to send this letter over the weekend to give you more time, but, if by chance the postal service messes up, a few days letting your mind wander at your work wouldn’t be awful either. 

I’ll see you soon, my love. We’ll discuss this more in person, where my words are sharper than the pen I used, and my voice will convey just how serious I am about all of this. 

All yours, only yours, 

-Doctor Lee.

(-Mommabean, hope you liked!)

[semisolidmind]

What happens when they outlive angel? Since poppy was first created in the 50’s it seems like being preserved as toys has granted them longer lifespans if not technical immortality, so angel aging is going to become a problem sooner or later, and I’m kinda wondering what happens when the inevitable comes. I made myself sad thinking about this and now all of you will be too, suffer with me

(i was thinking about this as well, uuuugghhhh)

it's so so sad. what will the toys do without their one advocate, the one person who truly understands them and what they represent? when the one good home they've ever had is gone, they've got nowhere else to go.

so, they stay.

when y/n dies, the toys have a quiet burial for them in their backyard, under a big shady tree. they make a simple marker from rocks, and pick wildflowers nearby to lay on the grave. none of them speak. it was hard enough digging the grave, and unbearably difficult to lay their savior to rest.

the house is horribly quiet afterwards.

poppy is likely the strong one throughout all this. she's had the most experience saying goodbye to people she cares about (thanks to her longevity), and she attempts to maintain a sense of optimism about it all. they'll all be ok, she's sure of it. they'll find their way through this, like always. it's what y/n would have wanted. kissy withdraws into herself further, following poppy's lead and trying not to cry.

dogday is devastated. devastated beyond all measure. he was the one to discover y/n when they passed. they were so pale, he could feel their warmth leaving them. their face looked so peaceful, they looked like they had just fallen asleep. he knew it was coming, they were getting older, but—but it's still not fair. it doesn't feel real. it can't be, his angel can't be dead, nothing has ever kept them down before, they always get back up, why couldn't they get back up—

...he tries to stay calm.

he took on the duty of grave digging. he took on the heavy burden of laying his beloved angel into the makeshift coffin they were able to cobble together. he could barely keep it together when he did. he managed, but not without crying.

that night, he waits until the girls have gone to bed before he closes himself off in y/n's bedroom. in the privacy of the once-shared space, dogday allows the truly desperate, heaving sobs he's been keeping in to finally leave his chest. tears mat down the fur on his face as he cries. he shakily grasps y/n's jacket to himself, wishing that there was some way, any way, that they could come back to him. he knows humans aren't meant to live forever. but that doesn't stop him from wishing that y/n could achieve the tentative immortality that the toys have, if only so that they could stay with him.

dogday becomes somber after his angel dies. they were his source of hope, his reason for living. they saved his life in ways beyond just physical. they were the only reason he was alive at all. without them, he's...he's not sure if he wants to keep going.

but he must. he knows he has to. y/n would want him to take care of the others, they'd want him to protect and provide for them. so, without any other purpose...that's what he does.

the toys live in their savior's house for as long as they're able. it's just their luck that the house is never put up for sale, that it's just sort of...forgotten about. it becomes a "haunted house in the woods," feared and avoided. they're more than happy to become the vague, cryptic monsters in local legends if it means that they're left alone.

nobody will come by to check on y/n for a while, and the toys will have power and food (their water comes from a well hooked up to the house) for at least a little while longer. and after that, they'll manage on what they can find in the woods.

they live as peacefully as they can for as long as they can.

[tarjapearce]

Cast Away (Pt. 2)

Warning: DO NOT read this if you're having a good day and love Miguel O'Hara being happy. ANGST. Graphic depictions of miscarriage, implied self hate, HEAVILY influenced by "Die For You" by Joji. Had to hold myself from making this too dark. Sorry in advance, but I write my sadness away ~ Thanks Anon for this request ✨

Pt 1

The steps approaching just echoed through the high walls and, he glanced at the trespasser of his secluded space briefly to continue his new endeavor.

"She got home safe." Jess mumbled from the doorframe, not needing to invade his corner even more.

"Made sure to check the area as well-"

"You're dismissed"

"You're welcome" Jessica shrugged and returned where she came from.

Silence fell upon him again, where you had been standing a while ago. Although you had changed, he no longer had to wonder what had been of you.

The memories always repeated themselves in his brain whenever he dwelled too much in the past. It was like a self imposed punishment from everything that had happened. The remembrance itself was unable to be stopped once it was played in his mind.

He would come home to you, dread seeping in as the rain only poured harder, drowning the sound of the daily suburban life. Your car was parked ahead of his, he then had rushed to get inside only to be greeted by a bone shaking cry.

Dread pumped harder on his chest, making his breath to hitch as his eyes stumbled upon a crimson and jagged pattern on the floor.

Don't

His mind chanted, but the desperate cries of help gave him enough courage to slowly push the door open. And god, he wished he could have some sort of device to erase the ongoing memory.

His heart not only wrenched but broke upon the sight of you. Slumped on the bathroom floor against the wall, blood everywhere as you wept, holding onto your belly, repeating over and over 'my baby', begging for an answer above as to why your child was the one that had to be ripped away. He was sure that whoever above was in charge, he wasn't listening.

He had to steel his grip on the doorframe as his eyes darted to a certain bloody puddle between your legs. Tiny little bloodshot feet peeked through the fabric of your nightgown. His eyes blurred as the tears flooded his eyes and for a second he thought he would collapse right on the spot.

A painful wept snapped him out of his trance and took action. He phoned an emergency number and rushed to you again. There was no comfort that could alleviate your hearts. At best, he just cradled you in his arms, and held you tight as you clung to him, your one and only anchor, asking for his forgiveness.

But his mind was on the tiny human that laid quietly on the floor. His spider vision only confirming what he in his mind was trying to deny so badly.

He was going to be a father of a boy.

You didn't know yet and had demanded to be a surprise, the appointment scheduled within four days. The baby shower for next month.

Everything was a blur after the medical staff arrived to your home and took you to the hospital. He couldn't follow right away to the room you had surely would be kept.

Doctors barked orders, and he hated himself for admitting that he was glad he wasn't allowed in, his rage would surely make him commit something really stupid.

Hours passed and the only thing he could do was to stare at you through a window. Oxygen mask attached as the monitors gave soft beeps, mimicking your heart beats.

How he couldn't see this coming? He analyzed every single outcome possible from your pregnancy, he had used his knowledge in genetics to always monitor you.

What had gone wrong? His blood? Probably. After all his own dna had been modified, and yours was strong and compatible enough for a successful pregnancy. Or so his results had shown.

Never he could imagine that the 0.99% fail rate due dna instability from your end, would shatter everything to pieces.

There was no longer adoration in his eyes upon watching you, but something darker, hatred like even.

Weakened eyelids fluttered open and awake, trying to adjust at the light and blurry sight, and when they did, you were received with a look that were only given to your common enemies. Your heart broke into nothingness.

Miguel could see you mumbling his name, but it fell upon deaf ears. He turned around and left.

LYLA's projection brought him back to reality. For once he was grateful she was there, his past haunting him stopped briefly.

"Did ya hear?"

"Hm?"

"Are you sure you wanna do that?"

"Highest resolution available."

"Isn't it a crime to use this tech to personal purposes?"

"Solo haz lo que te digo.*" His tone an octave lower and demanding.

LYLA sighed and soon a new projection appeared on his screen.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes following your frame that soon disappeared in the arms of an unknown man. His eyes narrowed in disdain as he peppered your face in kisses.

He was tall, not as physically built as he, but the man looked like the cardio was enough for him. House looked cozy, homey. Tainted in the colors you were always telling him about , matcha green and beige.

The man kissed you, and as he cupped your cheeks to do so, Miguel caught the glimpse of a golden ring on his finger.

------

"Mi amor!" Your hand covered your mouth as your squealing was muffled. Your husband rushed to you and stopped upon seeing you nodding and crying as you held a pregnancy test on hand. After two months of trying.

The man was overjoyed. And Miguel's jaw clenched.

----

"It's a boy"

You whispered in between soft sobs as the ultrasound captured the picture. Red eyes glued at the way that man mumbled the sweetest things that made your chest swell merrily. He looked so proud of you.

You had always wanted a boy.

He was once the father of a boy.

----

"Im not going anywhere" The man mumbled as he planted himself by your side.

"Where would I go, hmm?" His stomach revolted as the scene displayed before him.

You left

His mind accused. Something he could truly never shake off. Months of surveillance resumed into this very moment. Medical staff rushed in and soon the moment he never got to experience with you, happened.

Your child was born.

His lip pursed, suppressing a quiver while he witnessed in sheer darkness, the peak of your happiness. Your arms cradled the baby, cooed him, cherished him. Your pride and joy, shared with a stranger.

Could've been you

Miguel's breath was released in a shaky sigh.

"Felicidades, mi niña."

He turned off the screen. Darkness swallowing him whole.

--------

Solo haz lo que te digo- Just do as you're told.

Felicidades, mi niña.- Congratulations, my dear.

[cherryxblossxms]

Masturbation May - Day 8a: First Thing in the Morning (Diavolo)

A/N: Diavolo was suggested by @vampnyx! Sometimes the demon prince just needs to cum ten or twenty times, he can't help how needy he is for his lover :) sorry that it's clearly not May anymore, inspiration hits when it's least expected

Featuring: GN reader || Diavolo x reader

Warnings: masturbation (technically lol); somnophilia??, groping and humping of reader's body but reader gave prior consent; cumshot/cumming on reader's body, some human kink, size kink and a little size difference, dirty talk with a lil degradation, light descriptions of reader's body but not very specific, hinting at continuation of sex with reader at the end; not proofread jafkljsdf

Word count: 2406

══════════════════

Diavolo was insatiable, and honestly it should have been obvious from the start. He was a massive, powerful demon, coming from a long line of strong warriors stretching back millenia. It existed in his blood, a need to breed and carry on his bloodline. His strength was incredible, so it was only logical that his stamina would match, needing to power his body longer than the average demon.

Unfortunately for you, his human lover, that stamina also transferred to the bedroom. There were plenty of nights that he spent loving you as gently as he could, but it easily lasted all night long, leaving you exhausted and unable to move by the end of it. It came to a point that you had to put a cap on the number of times he could make you cum, otherwise you'd never be able to do anything, bedbound multiple times a week because your boyfriend's game was too good. Of course, Diavolo was very proud of this fact, but he did his best to keep his glee down as he accepted your conditions.

Diavolo appreciated you working out a compromise with him. He definitely didn't blame you, the last thing he wanted was to make you upset or accidentally hurt you. Your sweet, fragile human body could only take so much, he needed to handle you carefully and he wanted to treat you the way you deserved. So he took what he could get, easily reaching the quota you'd set every time he made love to you, getting every last possible drop of cum from you before he either met his restriction or you passed out from exhaustion.

Oftentimes, that meant that Dia was still aching for more long after you'd fallen asleep beside him, your body thoroughly pleasured and showing signs of his love on you, including dark hickeys and the occasional bruise. Tonight was no different, and unfortunately, your visage was only making him hungrier for you, desperate for your touch once more. Diavolo decided to try to sleep off his lust, letting his mind drift to what he hoped would be sweeter, more innocent dreams. But luck clearly wasn't on his side.

Even in his dreams, he couldn't seem to escape his desire.

You both had passed out in the early morning, and Diavolo woke just a few hours later, coming out of a delicious dream not much different from what you two had been doing the night prior. Without looking down, he knew he was already hard again and tenting the sheets, still feeling the lingering phantom feel of your lips on his body, could see your body above him as you rode him at your own leisurely pace and remembered the slick, tight squeeze of your core wrapped around his dick. It never failed to amaze him how well you took his length and rode him like a champ, even going so far as to haunt him deliciously in his subconscious.

Now here he was, standing at attention, already leaking like a faucet and raring to go but knowing your body was likely still exhausted from earlier. It wasn't the first time this happened, so luckily, you'd already sorted out a plan with your needy lover. When Dia was feeling insatiable but your quota was met, you'd allow him to still use you afterwards, even while sleeping. Of course, you knew you wouldn't be able to take him fully like that, he was still a challenge to take even while awake. But most everything else was on the table, with prior discussion.

Diavolo liked to try to rein himself in where he could, even with this allowance, but the remnants of his dream were making his blood run hot, and all he ached for was your touch in the morning light. He scooted closer to your body, where you lay turned away, giving him a nice view of your back and buttocks where the sheets were slipping away. You were thoroughly marked up, little bites showing especially on your hips and the fat of your ass that weren't helping his raging boner.

He couldn't help but lean forward to kiss your back, his hand slinking down to finally relieve the pressure in his groin. He used the generous pre-cum leaking from his slit as lube, spreading it across his shaft for less friction. As he twisted his wrist, he was kissing and nibbling on your flesh, enjoying the way goosebumps rose on your skin in response. He could hear you softly whine and wondered if he was becoming part of your dreams, like you had for his.

Before long, his hips started to thrust forward, in search of more stimulation. His hand was never enough, not now that he had you. And it was like a forbidden fruit dangling in front of him, being able to see and feel your lovely body, but knowing he couldn't do all that he wanted right now. He could wake you up, see if you were OK to continue on, but he hated disturbing your rest.

After a moment of deliberating, he helped lower you forward against the bed, your arms automatically coming up in your sleep for better comfort. He straddled your hips now, taking a moment to admire your body, all the curves and angles he'd long since memorized and smothered in his love. He reached a hand down to gently squeeze your ass, then continued stroking his shaft with his other hand, just recalling to memory the feel of your body against his last night. He imagined taking you now, prone against the sheets, caging you in so you can only hold on for dear life as he filled you again and again. You always did make the best noises when you were at his whim, just a slave to his passionate thrusts.

Diavolo didn’t even realize his eyes had shut, giving in to his pleasure and imagining it was you he was fucking instead of his fist. He couldn’t see, then, the precum he was leaking on you, dirtying you in his lust. But occasionally, he did bump against your body, accidentally at first before starting to do it intentionally, his frenulum rubbing just right against your asscheeks to add to his pleasure.

The plush of your ass and the warmth and softness of your skin helped him along, and before he knew it, he was chanting under his breath. He wasn't very vocal in terms of moans or whimpers, usually grunting in his effort at the most. But he made up for it in talking to you, loved describing in explicit detail how your body squeezed his cock, how he loved watching your eyes roll back as you came for him over and over, how he couldn't wait to mark you with his seed, either inside or out.

"Ffffuck, my love, you feel so good," he panted out, the filthy, slick fapping sounds of his fist filling the air as his hand moved faster. "Love your sweet little human body, how soft you are, how pliant. Such a good little human for me."

As if in response, your hips raised a little, almost like you wanted to present yourself to him, and he certainly didn't miss that. It gave Diavolo a better angle to work with, easier to bump against you.

"Oh? Are you dreaming of me, my love? Are you dreaming of me taking you like this, like my own little fuck toy?" Although you still didn't wake, Dia could see just enough of your face to notice your expression twisted. It was looking very similar to the expression you gave him when he'd thoroughly turned you on and you were just waiting for the moment he'd grant mercy and finally make you cum.

In his lust, he forgot he wasn't trying to wake you, had intended to simply use you a little as encouragement to pleasure himself, but the way your body almost seemed to submit to him now was driving him crazy. He stopped stroking his cock for a moment to grab your ass cheeks, backing up a little and spreading them to get a good look at your core, your now exposed hole already clenching as if in anticipation of his body, your arousal obvious. Oh it was a fight not to take you then and there.

"And look how needy you are, clenching around nothing," he continued. As he kept you spread open, he sandwiched his cock between your cheeks, his abundant precum working well as lubricant as he slowly started to thrust. "You say you're exhausted but it looks like you're already ready for me. You look like I could just slide right in, and you wouldn't even wake up. What do you think of that?"

Of course, you didn't respond, and he didn't expect you to. Really, he had no intention of actually doing that. Your rules were clear when you'd allowed him this much: no penetration, at least not involving his dick specifically, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was destroy your trust or hurt you. But just letting his imagination run wild was enough to fuel his building climax, and the dirty speech simply helped.

He could hear the soft repetitive plap as his large balls tapped against you, and he remembered taking you in this exact position many times in the past. In fact, it was one of his favorites, second only to mating press. Something about it let him reach a particularly deep spot in you, where your legs had jolted every time his cockhead kissed it the first time you two tried it, pulling out a mewl from your lips as he abused this new knowledge. And of course, he was always enamored with how deep he could cum inside you that way, too. You hadn't been able to walk by the end of it, limbs trembling and brain full of mush for longer than usual afterwards, and Dia was obsessed with it.

As he continued thrusting, his strong fingertips still holding your hips and ass up against him, he imagined it now, wishing so deeply he could be buried inside you again. He could feel his climax rising up quickly, and wanted more than anything to empty himself in you. But he settled for a backshot as his pleasure crested, accidentally shoving his weight forward as his balls clenched, just moments before hot ropes of cum shot out. He quickly righted himself, moving back to stroking his throbbing cock with one hand, his free hand squeezing your ass cheek and exposing your hole again, just in time to cum across your ass and your opening as well.

Diavolo was breathing heavily, heartbeat thumping throughout his body, and he gave himself a moment to settle down before looking at his handiwork. It was filthy and gorgeous all the same time, his precious seed covering your skin and dripping down your ass. Something in him wanted to always see you like this, mark you in his seed whenever he could, as unfeasible as it was. However, he couldn’t help but curse as the post nut clarity hit hard, realizing what a mess he made and knowing he’d have to still clean you up, too. He was a prince and a gentleman, after all, he couldn’t just leave you like this.

Diavolo was sure he was much less than quiet in the act, but now that he was hyper-aware of himself again, he was trying to determine how to quietly remove himself to fetch a washcloth for you. However, a soft giggle alerted him, and he looked over to see you looking back at him over your shoulder, a dreamy smile on your face. Your eyes were droopy, trying to blink the sleep out of them yet, but it was clear you knew exactly what happened. Dia couldn’t help it as his face heat up, feeling like he’d been caught in the act even though you’d already given him the okay to start with.

“I thought my dreams were getting pretty horny suddenly. Did you have fun?” you asked, your voice still a little groggy.

Your lover cleared his throat, moving off of your body to give you some space once more.

“I think you’re asking something you already know the answer to, my love,” he chided, and you giggled again. He glanced over at you, his gaze apologetic as he reached out to stroke your face. “Sorry for waking you. Just give me a moment and I will get you cleaned up, then you can go back to sleep.”

You smiled at his touch, before wiggling your hips and kissing his hand, sneaking your tongue out to lick one of his fingers suggestively. That caught Diavolo’s attention, particularly that of his flagging cock as the blood immediately started to rush south for the second time this morning.

“Careful, love, I’m still feeling insatiable this morning, and I know you must be exhausted. You’re really poking the beast.” His tone was warning, but his twitching cock was calling to you, regardless, hopeful for more.

You hummed, taking one of his fingers into your mouth and suckling. Diavolo’s breath hitched as he felt your tongue swirl around the digit, and he was speechless as your mouth popped off of him suddenly, a thin thread of saliva connecting you still.

“Well, maybe I’ve recovered a little and want to see some more of this beast, how about that? Besides, you went and got me all turned on too, getting all handsy like that.” Diavolo couldn’t refute that, he had definitely pushed the boundaries of your agreement. “Maybe if you help me clean off in the bath, we can see just how much more I can take.”

Diavolo was quick to gather you into his arms after that, barely taking a moment to wrap a sheet around you to protect from wandering eyes as he rushed off towards the royal baths. It was almost comical the way his cock bobbed as he practically ran off, and if he wasn’t next in line for the throne, he’d be a laughingstock in the court. But when it came to you, there was much Diavolo was more than willing to put up with; he could handle a little humiliation so long as he had you.

You were truly going to be the death of him.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 9 - left its seeds while I was sleeping

“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.” -The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Masterlist Part 8

It was the lack of air in her lungs that woke Jazz up, gasping for air and fingers desperately trying to find a beating pulse at her neck. 

With a sigh of relief, Jazz rested her palm against the beat, counting as it started to settle into a resting pace again. 

Another nightmare. 

Back in Danny’s memorial Jazz had converted from a maintenance access space, she had slept there one Christmas weekend as she learned her little brother would truly never have a peaceful afterlife. The darkness was an old friend, like a worn blanket from childhood that you would hide under because you believed the monsters wouldn’t get you then- embraced her as she was and sheltered her as she mourned her lost humanity and childhood until there were no more tears to cry. 

Nonetheless, it couldn’t shelter her from the dreams of death, the echo of Danny’s death scream ghostly wail ricocheting in her skull like the worst sort of pinball game she could ever have the misfortune of playing. 

It was no longer Danny’s death or theirs that haunted her with dogged determination, but Jason’s. 

(The same man she found herself missing more with each passing day that she didn’t wake in his arms.)

It was horrifically detailed, the nightmares, because Jazz’s imagination painted with vivid color even in sleep. The details Lady Gotham had shared with her were few and far between, considering she didn’t care for talking about her favorite bird’s murder. 

(Beaten, betrayed… waiting for his dad to reach him in time.)

(Only the darkness would ever know how much Jazz cried for a younger Jason, who only wanted his mother’s love, died for it.)

(It spoke to her own childhood, wanting her parents to love her and care for her.)

(What a pair they were.)

Jazz threw off her blankets and got dressed for the day, hair brushed back into a low ponytail and Bracelets hidden under loose sleeves and a glamor. The metal was cool against her warm skin, a comfortable weight on her forearms as she went about her morning in silence, forcing the nightmare back into a box for her never to think about. 

Danny emerged only a few minutes after Jazz began making breakfast for them, yawning and raking a scarred hand through his messy hair as he tried to wake up. Her little brother was completely healed from his traumatic experience physically, but she worried about him mentally. Though he was much happier compared to when she first dragged him bleeding and screaming to Gotham, which could also be due to the fact that he has a new Haunt and isn’t vilified by the city as Phantom. 

Even if it came at the cost of life, Danny loved being a vigilante.

The signs were there in the little things most of all.

 The pride in his voice when he introduced himself as Phantom, delivered puns and witty one-liners with his wicked sense of humor for all to see, thrived in the sense of duty he wrought in Protecting others, even complete strangers. Danny was a hero, but he didn’t need that distinction to want to help, he only wanted to not be hunted for his spooky nature. 

Jazz would shoulder that burden for him, take up another mantle if it meant giving Danny a chance to be happy with his existence. Ancients only knew how far she would go for him. 

One slash, two, three

Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash

Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash. 

So what if Jazz had a bond with the darkness? So what if she woke up with no air in her lungs, searching for a pulse? 

There was nothing else for her to fight for, no greater purpose she could find then to be at Danny’s side through the ups and downs. Jazz had already given up so much, both willingly and unknowingly, to take the crown, to be more than a presence on the sidelines- she was more than a Liminal, Jazz was the damn Regent. 

(She ignored the grating reminder of the title being temporary.)

It was only until Jazz watched Danny walk through the door of his school, that it dawned on her what she was feeling….

Jazz was becoming depressed. 

-——-———–

With the subtlety of Jack Fenton barreling through a wall, Jazz threw herself into work- both Vigilante and Regent- to ignore the realization and subsequent horror that she was falling into a deep depression.

And it was largely because of Danny. 

Ancients, Jazz wanted nothing more than to confront these feelings head on, much like she encouraged her little brother too, but she couldn’t even find where to begin. 

She supposed she could find someone to talk to about all this, in a professional manner, but her options were limited. 

Spectra was the only ghost with counseling experience, but Jazz would only be leaving a conversation with her worse than when she began. 

Frostbite would be of little help with something so human, considering he was an ancient ghost Yeti. 

Human. That was it. 

Jazz hadn’t considered a human psychiatrist, since most of her health needs thus far were physical and treated by the Yeti tribe, thanks to her ecto-contamination and proto-core. 

What if she found a human doctor to see? Jazz had no reason to discuss anything  ecto related, only human adjacent, so she could very well find one that suited her and her needs. 

Well, that might be a challenge in Gotham. 

The Watchtower was host to nearly every possible hero who were to attend Batman’s urgent briefing, many lingering around and questioning what the Bat could’ve had in store for so many of them to be present. 

Robin, Red Hood, and Red Robin were counted among the numbers of those present, though only Red Robin had the fully depth of what they were about to be privy to, having been one of three people to sort through the Ghost Files (as they were dubbed by the Batkids). 

Robin had demanded to be included, citing his prior experience with The Regent in Crime Alley as reason enough. 

(He would not admit that he had been petrified by the vigilante, the death aura freezing him down to his bones.)

Red Hood was there at the request of his younger brother (Tim), Oracle and Batman, though he had yet to understand why. 

“Red Robin, begin the presentation.” Batman ordered gruffly as he entered the large meeting hall, Superman and Wonder Woman at his heels, the other heroes trickling in soon after. 

Red Robin nodded, took a deep breath and started the presentation slideshow. 

Slide #1: Ghosts, Fenton Family, GIW, Anti-Ecto Acts, The Regent and the Phantom

Despite the absurdity of the first slide, no one felt like laughing. Especially when it is in a meeting with the Batman, the Dark Knight and two (?) of his children. Not to mention the existence of Deadman was well known to the Justice League. 

“Bloody Hell, Bats, took you long enough.” Constantine had no qualms about poking the man in question with a metaphorical stick, but he had fully expected this briefing to happen a week ago. 

“This briefing will be disclosing information granted to us by one of these Ghosts or Ecto-Entities as they are officially classified by the Ghost Investigation Ward or GIW. A serious breach of the Metahuman protection laws has been created and exploited by this government organization, which is responsible for drawing the Human world into the beginnings of an inter dimensional war with the Infinite Realms.” Batman spoke calmly, even if he was holding onto his demeanor by the skin of his teeth. 

(He was livid.)

(A dead child had to beg him not to send him to war.)

(A dead child was a Spirit of Protection.)

As expected, the heroes present were disgusted by the actions of the GIW, the diabolical Anti-Ecto Acts passed during Luther’s term. 

The worst reactions came during the Fenton Family portion. 

The Ghost Files had included so much info on them, Red Robin had to shorten the list of what he would include in the presentation. 

The first picture was of the members themselves, posing in front of a brick building with a neon sign of ‘Fentonworks’ glaring annoyingly from the background, casting an off shade of pale green over the subjects. 

“The Fenton Family, manufacturers of the weapons sold to the GIW for the express purpose of hunting and capturing ghosts.” Batman began, “The two adults are Madeline and Jack Fenton, ecto-biologists whose prejudiced views on Ecto-Entites seem to be the founding behind the Acts and the GIW.” 

The man in the photo was large, a sturdy frame encased in an orange hazmat suit and bearing a wide grin on his face, with an arm around his wife and children. Madeline Fenton was a slight woman, standing at a possible five foot eight and wearing a hazmat suit like her spouse. 

The children were the next to be spoken of, “The boy is Daniel Fenton, the youngest, and according to the information given, he was killed in a lab accident at fourteen years old.” 

The gasps of horror intermingled with the muttered curses before the Dark Knight silenced them, “Daniel’s older sister, Jasmine, was the primary caregiver for most of his life and after discovering her parents dissecting the town’s protector, a ghost by the name of Phantom, in the same basement lab Daniel died in, Jasmine allowed the Regent to claim their souls so the violence done to Phantom would be avenged.” 

It had been quite the shock for Red Robin and Oracle to read that, both at the evidence of cruelty and inhumane experimentation done to a sentient being (a child who died and protected the town) and the admittance that the Regent killed the humans to avenge Phantom.

It wasn’t until Hood grimly smiled and said, “Good for them.” that something clicked. 

Phantom was killed by the Fentons and avenged by the Regent of the Ghost King. 

(Jason had never been avenged, not like this dead kid.)

There was one file, a video, that Tim refused to share with anyone. 

The death of Daniel Fenton. 

…and the rebirth.

Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t an idiot. He was born into a bloodline of brilliance, even if such wasn’t always used for the greater good. He had spent years fixing his parents failed inventions, doing the proper equations to figure out how something could work when in reality it had no business existing. 

(Designed to view a world unseen.)

He’d learned how to fly a jet and build one at fifteen out of sheer desperation, defeated the Ghost King in the same year…. And was almost killed fully by his parents. 

His vivisection scars had healed fully, his removed ribs having regrown, and he could transform without echoes of agony in his chest. 

(They had gotten far too close to his core.)

Point was, Danny knew there was something going on with his sister. She had been less talkative since their escape from Amity, but Jazz had been withdrawn since they took Jason to the Batcave. He had suspected that Jazz missed having someone to care for, considering that was the kind of person she’d been for as long as he could remember, but it didn’t seem quite right. There was something sadder in her eyes. 

Danny turned his focus back down to what he was doing, shoving the concern down to deal with later when he sees Jazz. Usually English was one of the classes he could relax in, considering he could now actually read the assigned books without worrying about ghost attacks eating into his sleep, but today Danny couldn’t focus on the teacher or the lesson. 

He’d had an idea for the ecto-comms, his own creation made from broken Fenton phones. His notebook, which was a mix of notes and half finished designs, was open to the original design of the comms. Danny had to account for Jazz’s helmet when he designed her set, but it was awkward at best to activate it when she needed to talk to him. 

Jazz needed armor to protect her vital organs even if her skin was incredibly durable. He’d seen some idiot unload a clip into Jazz’s back, not a single one had pierced her- that had been when she’d intercepted a smuggling ring from inside and had yet to summon her armor or sword. 

(The creepy head turn Jazz did to face the idiot was the stuff horror movies were made from.) 

(Danny was oddly proud.)

No, the armor was to protect against ghosts. Ecto-blasts would severely injure Jazz despite her liminalality, unlike Danny who could just go intangible or manipulate the ectoplasm in his body around the blast. 

“Did you hear about the Anti-Ecto Acts?” one of his classmates whispered from somewhere behind him, causing Danny to automatic tune his hearing into the conversation. 

“Yeah, that stuff is sick. Phantom is a pretty cool dude, even if he’s dead.” 

“He’s got puns for days, man.” 

“But still, ghosts?” 

“We got aliens, dude and you’re drawing the line at ghosts?” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

“Just read the whole article, man.” 

“It’s the daily planet.” 

“It’s Clark Kent and Lois Lane, dude, it’s worth the gag factor of metropolis.” 

Danny’s pencil snapped in uneven halves in his grip, confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest. 

Anger-relief-cautious hope 

He’d given the Ghost Files to Batman as his last resort, believing in the hero and for his connection to Lady Gotham to sway him to give it a read through. Jazz had been adamant that if Phantom and the Ghost King was on that list, then she (as the Regent) would be too, though the two of them had argued against labeling Phantom as the Star King for the time being. Danny had grudgingly agreed to keep Phantom labeled as a Spirit of Protection, even if he went behind his sister’s back and gave Batman a list of his powers. 

(Danny still had nightmares of Dan.)

(He lost his parents, but he hadn’t lost his family.) (He had to remember that.) 

There were few things Jason would consider dear to him. 

His books, kept neat and orderly in his apartment. His vigilante alias, taken from his killer to be a force of change. His grave, as a reminder that he came back. He’d been surprised to see Joker removed from the rogue list, hopeful that it meant he was avenged the clown fucker was finally dead and gone. Dick had held him again when he finally broke down and mourned himself, relief in the fact his killer would never hurt another innocent. 

Never hurt his family again. 

Barbie had framed the autopsy report and given it to her dad, where it proudly rested on his desk as a reminder that the clown was knocked off by a blessed soul and his daughter would never be hurt by him again. 

The alley where his head remained mounted was a protected site in Crime Alley, enforced by both Red Hood and it’s people. A trophy for all of them to appreciate, because while they hadn’t been the ones to end him… they had survived to bare witness to the days free of Joker. 

Harley Quinn was free, the happiest woman in all of Gotham- no, the world! The demon who’d made her in his image so long ago was gone for good and nothing would bring him back. She was free of her ex, her origin story was finally finished. 

Jason counted the fact he was inadvertently avenged as the dearest part of what he was as equal parts man and shambling corpse. He was free of that burden. 

And he had the bone-deep instinct that he knew exactly who to show his appreciation to.

Part 10

[see-arcane]

i'd love to hear your thoughts on or analysis of the "weird sisters"/wives/brides

Bride 1:

The first victim taken to keep Dracula company. I imagine Dracula being in something of a more maddened/not-quite-whole state following his turn to vampirism paired with his time in [SPOILERS]. Maybe closer to Nosferatu's stilted mindset when it came to behaving like a man. That, coupled with an unknown amount of time pacing alone in his dead castle, only finding contact in screaming meals and fleeing chattel, likely prompted him to go seeking permanent company.

I picture the girl he chose as one with a habit of inspiring laughter. Perhaps a jovial eldest sister who cheered her sisters, her family, her friends and suitors. He's always loved stealing away what others might love. So he picked her and stole her and she spent her final months of humanity trying desperately to amuse and cajole him into not doing the inevitable.

Bride 2:

Centuries pass. Dracula wants a new flavor. He takes it in the form of one of his own men's girls. A wife? A sister? A daughter? It doesn't matter. What matters is she has known of Dracula all her life. Known what it is the people she loves, she shares blood with, do for this thing pretending to be a man. It's a deal with the devil. She knows that too. To disobey is to bring death and worse.

Dracula takes the girl the way all predators take caregivers who forget the former are not now or ever tamed to safety. Worse, perhaps it is her own kin who offer her up or turn blind eyes. It's for the good of the whole, dear, you understand. Her last hours are spent at a familiar window, alternately calling for and cursing those she'd loved.

Bride 3:

A newcomer. Perhaps a last straggling escapee of witch hunt fever, seeking with distance and a final pocketful of funds a safety from the pointing fingers of monstrous men. She doesn't know of any demons in the mountains and wouldn't care if she did. Men have proven to be greater monsters than any local legend. She even takes a home, startlingly cheap, near the edge of Borgo Pass despite all warnings.

She meets her one and only neighbor there. He is a magician of sorts, he tells her from the other side of the dilapidated fence--he would not set foot on her land without invitation, young lady! In truth, he is far more a witch than any poor powerless soul deemed unholy enough to slaughter. Such barbaric times, these. It is a comfort to see one such as her rightly escape such cruelty...

Perhaps he cajoles her into inviting him in. Perhaps he beckons her up to the castle, the caleche driving her on. Perhaps it doesn't matter either way. She is the last Bride for a long while. In time, she blends into the cadre of the others, these Weird Sisters, these bloodstained cats he keeps even as they scratch and laugh at as much as with him, because he cannot stand to be a tyrant alone with only himself to menace.

They are his. He can never part with what's his, even when it so rarely brings him joy. But time passes and the joy fades and if he is not a mad monster now, he is a steadily more sullen one when not faced with company to perform for. He is Master. He is the Devil. He is the owner of all that lives and dies in his land, his castle.

And yet he lets the castle rot. Lets himself wilt. He goes without succor even as he fetches meals for his 'loves.'

(He too can love. So he calls it, so it must be.)

They are no longer here for his pleasure, but to give him an excuse not to bite at himself like a rabid old wolf tearing at himself in confinement. England will be a respite. The start of something new. Conquest! New blood! New thralls! New subjects and victims! He will return to himself and his rightful mode with that renewal.

Groom:

And with the preparation comes a delightful surprise. If the Brides are his ungrateful cats, Jonathan Harker is a charming young pup. Primed to be groomed into a new addition.

Just the right word, that.

Groomed.

And is it not fitting that his first Groom is the one to bring him so much joy? So much vigor and play and giddy prelude to supple England? Yes, yes. This one has made him happiest of them all. Thank you, my good friend. I cannot wait to see more of you.

[merakiui]

imagining yandere!azul, who was annoyed of darling's romantic advances and rejected her love confession at first but now finds himself yearning and desperate for just an ounce of her affection, wearing the little jewelry you spent your savings on and gifted him, hugging onto the hand-sewn octopus plush you offered him on Valentines Day

Hes trying so hard to get you back, the contracts and offers, the VIP Coupons, the lavish sea-flower bouquets he'd leave at your doorstep, anything that would get you to visit Mostro Lounge! When it doesn't work, there's multiple bottles of glowing pink liquid and textbook sprawled out with a page for a Love Potion recipe, He's sent the tweels to stalk and observe you on campus, He's desperate to be seen as your Sweet Beloved Crush again and no longer some not-so-special person you treat the same as everyone else

azul's tentacle anon 🐙

OOOO YES YES OTL I love this type of concept!!!! :D

Azul who didn’t care much for your romantic advances; in fact, he seemed more annoyed than flattered when you’d come up to him in the busy hallway and gift him a box of chocolates (don’t you know he’s dieting!!!) or offer jewelry that cost most of your funds (don’t you know the color will clash with his aesthetic!!!) or give him handmade gifts like plushies (don’t you know he’s a businessman who has no need or time for silly stuffed animals!!!) For the time you had a crush on him, he had these thoughts. Perhaps it was his own secret defense mechanism: think negatively and poorly of you and your feelings for him and he won’t become attached to this goodwill. Because, truthfully, it felt nice to have you as a cheerleader. You’d show up at the lounge, order a drink, and sit by yourself in hopes of catching glimpses of Azul, even though he often holed himself up in the VIP room to avoid you.

Even if he thought of you as a nuisance, he enjoyed your kindness and, though he shudders to admit it, your flirting. Looking back, there was something oddly sweet in the way you’d flirt with him. It was always so genuine and never meant to ridicule him. He’ll never forget the time the twins came to him to regale him with how they caught you in the library, poring over textbooks on merfolk and the history of the Coral Sea. He’d shooed them away, scoffing about it, excusing your behavior with: “It’s most likely for academic purposes. Perish any other thoughts before you have them.” But now he looks back and he feels curious. Did you want to know more about him on a personal level? Were you going to ask him about the facts you read about in the textbooks? He couldn’t fathom why you’d be interested back then, but now he understands because he’s doing the same thing: looking for every little fact about human nature so he can better appeal to you.

Azul feels foolish. Normally he’s so good at spotting opportunities. Had he been just a little kinder, had he not rejected you so often and so openly, had he just offered friendship before a romantic relationship, maybe you would have continued to harbor feelings for him. Now he’s stuck with his own feelings, and they’re so suffocating. He wants you to look at him like he’s the only one in your world again. He wants you to light up every time you catch sight of him or hear about him in passing. He wants you to come to him with gifts, each one he struggled to repay because he couldn’t just accept gifts without giving in return! He wants you to love him again because now he loves you. It took a while, but it’s caught up to him and now those moments he thought so hatefully about before he daydreams about them with fondness. How could he have let such a good opportunity slip through his fingers?! It’s because no one’s ever liked him like that before. And so he was dreadfully inexperienced in handling this sort of situation.

So when all is lost, love potions are the answer. It’s playing dirty; he knows. But he’s desperate, and he’s always been a greedy, ambitious octopus. He has three hearts, and that’s more than enough to love you. So you’d better use that single heart of yours to love him back, whether willingly or not.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Four: Two Can Keep A Secret

The Pariahs That Saved The World [masterlist]

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of death, tiny bit of gore/horror in the beginning (flashback), a little bit of angst

[A/N: omg almost a week late but it's here!! i'm so sorry for the delay, i've just come down from covid and iona (aka bestie) isn't actually to blame at all i just wanted to annoy her. okay enjoy!]

Two Can Keep A Secret

October 1982

“Hello?”

You call out into the darkness, seeing nothing but an endless void surrounding you. Dreams like this weren’t unusual to you, exploring the black nothingness before you wake up, alarm blaring. But it was different this time.

Because you felt someone watching you.

You’ve never felt so uneasy inside your own mind, squeezing your eyes shut. There was never a time you couldn’t escape your dreams, suddenly becoming aware of your consciousness and forcing yourself awake before the nightmare can really start. Except this time, you couldn’t escape. The longer it took, the harder it became to realise this was… just…….a……….dream…………

Something scurries behind you and you spin around, gasping into the thin air. Your eyes settle on the horizon, something red, shiny, beckoning you closer. Barely a second passed before it was right in front of your face; an intricate symbol on the stained glass frame. You had never seen it before.

You reach your hand out, fingers brushing against the doorknob, some kind of melody beating behind the door. It opened slowly with an echoing creak, a vision of a family standing around in the foyer, smiling. They were faceless, merely blurry projections of what your mind was assuming to be human. You’d never met them, never seen them before… why were you here?

And then a horrifying scream sliced through the silence like a cry of death.

The door behind you slams shut, making you jolt forward at the sudden noise. You try the doorknob again, but it’s locked now. Everything is quiet. Too quiet.

Shifting your body, your head cranes to glance over your shoulder and your stomach plummets to the ground, mouth feeling very dry. The family were no longer in a happy memory.

Blood was smeared across the floors, a man stood menacingly with a knife. He was humming a tune, striking every nerve in your body with the instinct to run. A woman and her children were on the floor, mouths moving in rhythm to the music but never awakening, like some kind of chant.

“Stars shining bright above you...” The man starts to sing with a low voice, his head slowly turning towards you. “Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’….”

Everything about him felt warped from reality, some kind of veil on his human face flickering in and out to a horrific nightmare. There were claw marks all down his face, a hollow space where his eyes should be, blood dripping from his chin. And then an image of something burnt, red, winding. Both flickering in and out. In and out as he was slowly approaching you, some radio-like distortion warping into his own voice, a deep tone with a twisted malice.

“Birds singing in the sycamore tree….”

Your hands are now desperately twisting at the door, putting all of your strength into opening it. But no matter how hard you drove your body into it, the wooden barrier wouldn’t budge.

You pull your hand away from the door and glance over your shoulder, the murderer blankly staring at you. Then, some sort of ticking sound in front you brought you back, making your breath hitch.

The door was no longer there. Instead, a tall grandfather clock was speeding up through time, ticking viciously in front of you. The glass was cracked and spiders were starting to pour out of it. You stumble back, feeling the ghost of tears streaming down your face.

There’s an air of hot breath on your neck. With wide eyes, you slowly turn around to find the distorted image of the man barely an inch from your face. You tried to scream, but no sound left your mouth.

His voice was still low, leaning in and raising his knife.

“Dream a little dream... of me.”

The knife is plunged into your chest and-

And you wake up, sweating and panting, the constant image of death and macabre burnt into your subconscious.

It didn’t take long until curiosity took you over. The dream felt a little too real, too perfected to be some silly sensory experience your brain projected. You spent 10 hours in the library that day, cycling through newspaper articles, police reports, until finally you stumbled across something of substance.

VICTOR CREEL CLAIMS: ANCIENT DEMON KILLED FAMILY The Murder That Shocked A Small Community

The Creel House was a 20 minute bike ride from your grandparent’s house and so, thankful they were out for a meal, you decided to pay it a little visit.

You hadn’t expected it to be as big as it was considering all you had seen in your dream was the door and a foyer. Paint had chipped off over time, moss covering the flooring. The porch creaked under your weight and your breath hitches when you find the entrance to be completely boarded up.

What now? You mentally, sigh, looking at where the windows were also blocked by nailed down planks. You didn’t come all this way to turn back.

Determined, you hop down from the porch steps and follow the overgrown bushes to the right, squinting through the thick leaves for some kind of hidden entrance. The sky above you was a different hue of purple and orange, indicating the setting sun as the night slowly starts to creep in. You didn’t have much time before you were plunged into darkness.

As you approached the rear of the house, your eye catches something in the swarming ivy. You cover your hands with your jacket and gently start to bat them away, breath hitching. Another door.

On your first try, it appeared locked, making you sigh in frustration. Then, with a shove, it was only stuck with age and gave way almost instantly, making you stumble and cough into a cloud of dust.

Everything was covered in cobwebs, left exactly as it was when the house belonged to the Creel family. You found the foyer, relying on the restricted light from the windows to guide you around. You looked to the ground where the bodies had laid, eyes sweeping around the room to where you had stood in your dream, where the man had stood. You frown. Something was missing.

You weren’t sure why it was so important to you, but you searched the entire house for what felt like an hour. You explored the bedrooms, climbing the staircase begging there to be a reason why it wasn’t here.

Was the grandfather clock just in your imagination?

And then you spotted another staircase, leading further up the house. You vaguely remember the windows from the outside. Must be an attic, right?

Your suspicions were confirmed as you push against the worn door, floorboards groaning with every footstep you took. The air was colder here, prickling at your skin like a thousand tiny icicles. You look around, frowning. It still wasn’t here.

Something creaked from behind you and you spin around, relying on the last trickle of orange light from the sunset to observe your surroundings. No one was there. But that didn’t settle your nerves.

You felt like someone was watching you.

And you were right.

“Y/n.”

The voice felt like it was shaking the room, weaving into your brain like a horrific nightmare. You almost scream, heart pounding erratically as you start running out of that room, spilling curses from your lips. You never should have come here alone.

Your boots were almost slipping at your haste down the staircase, arm reaching out to grab the spindles and direct yourself back to the hidden door.

Never once did you look back, grabbing your bike and pedalling until your legs were sore. It was a stupid idea to have gone there in the first place, relying on what? A dream?

You never told anyone what you did, or what you heard. And the very next day, you handed in your assignment for extra credit to Mrs Click, forcing yourself to end your own torture and forget it ever even happened.

Present Day

You told Robin everything.

At least, you assume you did. You panicked so much about the possibility of ruining what potential friendship you could have that you must have blacked out during your explanation because the next thing you know, Robin’s hand is on your shoulder, thanking you for trusting her.

Her reaction was utterly mind-bending to you. Here you were, admitting you were a liar, and Robin wasn’t holding it against you, or making you feel any guiltier than you already do. In fact, her blue eyes were steadily on yours, flickering between your pupils in small but noticeable movements and making your stomach flutter whenever her lips-

“So, uh…” You clear your throat, feeling ashamed in yourself for even thinking it. This wasn’t you. You weren’t the type of girl to obsess over another person just because they showed you affection. “Are you… are you going to tell the others?”

Robin presses her lips together, eyes already travelling to where the others were arguing through the window of Bradley’s Big Buy behind the curb you sat on. None of you have really slept since last night, haunted by too many unanswered questions, knowing Vecna was directly below their feet. This morning, you were all up bright and early to collect some supplies for Eddie, and Robin’s heart hasn’t felt this low in a while.

She never had many friends. Truthfully, she blamed it on her personality. There was always a hint of sarcasm whenever she spoke, her jokes were either too dorky or too dark to be appreciate by her peers, and she loved to talk with the hope that if she keeps the conversation running long enough, they won’t notice how different she was.

Eddie Munson wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, Robin liked him. They’ve exchanged conversation over the course of the last few years in high school and never once has he made her feel like a freak. So, to know how helpless he is, she can’t help but feel for him. Because if people can jump to conclusions, pin an innocent man as a murderer… what hope did that give her?

Robin takes a deep breath, turning her head back to where you sit patiently, wide eyes begging for her answer. Are you going to tell the others? It was a simple yes or no. And most of the time, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut long enough to even warn the person she would be blurting copious amounts of secrets to, well, Steve for one.

Yet in the short time she’s known you, you’ve never given her any reason to not trust you. Not really. You had warned them of the danger and still come along to help them fight it. You had real reasons to be far away from here and yet you stayed. If anything, she thought you were the most trustworthy of them all. Because you were sacrificing so much more than just your spring break from college.

“Your secret is safe with me.” She smiles, revelling in the way relief pours from you in the form of a grin, suddenly reaching out and squeezing her hand just as the bell above the door sounds behind you.

“Am I interrupting?” Steve cocks a brow, juggling a paper bag on his hip, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips. Robin presses her tongue against her cheek, restraining her urge to literally bite him.

“It would be more surprising to find you were invited into a conversation.” You retaliate instead, and his smirk drops, rolling his eyes.

“Just… get in the car, losers.” He huffs, moving past you to the wagon and popping open the trunk, dropping the bag inside.

Robin’s heart yearns for your touch once more when your fingers slip from hers, following Max and settling beside her in the back, smiles gracing both of your features. Robin was never one for physical contact, unforgettable flashbacks to her parents ‘affection’ when she was a child; always strict, never kind. But with you…

She’s still stood by the curb watching the way you broke into easy conversation with the younger girl beside you when someone clears their throat. Her cheeks are already burning red when she turns around.

“You wanna… ride in the front with me?” Nancy offers, clearly ignoring her embarrassed flush. “I would ask Steve but he’d probably keep complaining about our mission without him.”

Nancy offers a smile, nudging her shoulder, and Robin feels surprised she even wants to spend time with her.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, sure.”

They were about five minutes into the car ride before the calm wore off and everyone started arguing over Vecna. Nancy had turned on some music and told everyone to calm down and, much to her delight, everyone shut their mouths. Well, most did.

“I just think we aren’t taking that whole clock thing seriously, you know?” Steve mumbles through the chips he was currently crunching through. “He could have been a clockmaker?”

“Jesus, this again?” Dustin groans, inspecting the ingredients of a beer can and raising his eyebrows. “Wow, this definitely isn’t good for you.”

“Do you have to chew right in my ear?” You turn in your seat, glaring at Steve. He grabs another chip and places it in his mouth only to lean forward and bite down as hard as he can, grinning. “I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” He grins again and you turn back slowly in your seat, sporting a death glare that made Max laugh.

“Not to be a wimp, but can I maybe sit in the car for this visit?” Robin turns to Nancy after mentally battling with the idea of telling Eddie he was probably going to be in hiding for the rest of his life. “‘Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Nancy dismisses, trying to keep a cheerful tone.

“I just can’t stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.” Robin says and you frown.

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve suggests, still munching away.

“That’s what my mom does.” Max offers and you look between them, shaking your head.

“Okay, no, that’s not the silver lining we’re looking for.”

“Well, considering how messed up the poor guy looked last time we saw him, I’d say alcohol is probably the only silver lining he’s looking for.” Steve says and you scoff. “What, you saying you know him better than that? You weren’t even there.”

“Maybe I do.” You shrug and he twists his face.

“What does that-”

“Dude, you’re in a losing battle, they literally dated.” Dustin holds his hand out, saving his friend from putting his foot in his mouth.

Robin can’t help spinning around in her seat to face you, hiding her disappointment behind a curious smile.

“You… you dated Eddie?” She asks and you simply shrug again, looking at everyone.

“I didn’t realise none of you knew but, uh, yeah. Freshman year.” You explain, avoiding her eyes.

“Huh.” She settles back into her seat, feeling a horrific sense of dread pooling in her chest. You dated Eddie. Because you like boys. Like every girl in this town would.

“Freshman year?” Steve repeats, but you notice his eyes are on the back of Robin’s head, a look of concern woven into the crease between his brows.

“Yes, Steve. Can we talk about something else?” You shift uncomfortably, Max’s sympathetic smile consoling you in silence.

“What are we gonna tell him, though?” Lucas looks around, shaking his head. “We should at least know what we’re gonna say so we don’t end up confusing him even more like last time.”

“Why don’t we just give it a trial run?” Robin suggests, anything to keep her mind focused on not thinking about the heartbreak steadily creeping up on her. “Hey, Eddie. Uh, good news first this time, we got you some Dustin-approved junk food and that six-pack that you requested. Oh yeah, and we found Vecna. Only the bad news is that he’s in that other, darker, much scarier dimension that we told you about and the gate’s closed, so we have no way of getting to him, like he’s entirely shut off to us, so basically you’re screwed. And, no, I know, you were already screwed, but now you’re like, doubly, triply screwed.”

“Okay, wait, wait.” Lucas leans forward, frowning. “Maybe we don’t put it like that.”

“We’re one step closer to finding Vecna.” Nancy nods, taking a deep breath. “That’s what we say. That’s what’s important.”

“See, Robin? A positive spin can make all the difference.” Steve announces from the back.

“Uh-huh.” Robin rolls her eyes.

“That’s if he doesn’t mind those words coming from his ex.” Dustin mutters and she clicks her tongue.

“Oh shit.” Nancy suddenly says and you all turn to look forward, breaths hitching.

“Um… didn’t you say Eddie was hiding out here?” You ask, mouth feeling dry.

Police cars, news vans, and a hefty crowd were gathered in front of the lake house, swarming it with police tape. You all slide out of the car, following Nancy’s lead around the back of a van to hear what the chief had to say.

Luckily, they hadn’t caught him. But that luck was entirely overshadowed by the fact that someone else fell victim to Vecna last night, and now Eddie’s name and photo were shown for everyone to see.

The man-hunt had begun.

“Why would he go to Skull Rock?” Lucas ponders as you all follow Dustin and Steve ahead, tired legs taking you through the thick expanse of the woods.

“Isn’t that the high school make-out spot?” Robin asks before it feels bitter on her tongue. Did he used to take you there?

“It’s also where kids go to smoke weed.” You say, eyes focused on the ground in front of you.

“Huh.” She responds and Nancy glances between you both before changing the subject.

“Uh, so, Y/n?” You whip your head up, meeting Nancy’s eyes. “How’s college? Stanford, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s… good.” You shrug, smiling.

“You’re taking journalism?”

“Right.” You breathe, reminding yourself she wasn’t your enemy. In fact, Nancy was one of the kindest people you knew. You shouldn’t be holding a grudge over something that was never her fault. “I, um… I also decided to take a creative writing course, test the waters a bit.”

She smiles, eyes lighting up when you don’t dismiss her. “That sounds-”

“So why did you and Eddie break up?” Robin interjects and you suddenly breathe in too quickly, coughing on literal air.

“Robin.” Nancy gapes at her.

“What? I don’t want it to be any more awkward than it already is. His heart’s already breaking, I’m just- I’m looking out for the guy, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Eddie and I are still friends. It was a long time ago.” You add, your heart skipping faster.

“Right.” She says, blinking. “Good, I mean. Good that you’re still friends. Because it would be weird. Not that it’s weird you guys dated. Although, I never would have paired you guys together. Not that it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t go for a guy- like Eddie! Like Eddie... Because, uh, like, opposites attract more often than not, right? Unless you like heavy metal and D&D and-”

“What Robin is trying to say is that we’re glad we’re not dragging you to someone you don’t want to see.” Nancy offers and Robin exhales deeply, nodding.

“Yep, what, uh, what she said.”

You don’t say anything after that and Robin scrunches up her face, falling just behind you and Nancy to mouth her frustrated screams at herself. Why can’t she just keep her mouth shut? Does she have to ruin every little thing and alienate every single good thing in her life until-

Lucas and Max are staring at her, a rush of blood adding pink to the tip of her ears. She awkwardly smiles and hurries back up to where you and Nancy walk in silence, looking amused at the arguing boys ahead of you.

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way.” Steve stresses, looking at Dustin like he was a madman for thinking otherwise.

“It’s north. I’m positive.” Dustin says, waving the paper in his hands. “I checked the map.”

“You do realise that Skull Rock, it’s like a super popular make-out spot?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t popular until I made it popular.” Steve boasts, raising his brows. “Alright? I practically invented it.”

“I thought Dan Shelter made it popular?” You quip, already visualising the scowl on his face before he even turned around to aim it at you. “Right, okay, sorry.”

“An apology, wow.” He remarks, laughing. “The world really is upside down today.”

“Ha.” You roll your eyes, putting a hand on Dustin’s shoulder as you approach them. “But Steve’s right, we’re heading the wrong way.”

Robin frowns. So you have been there before. Her chest feels like it’s squeezing the life out of her and she takes a deep breath. She should have just stuck to small crushes like Vickie. At least then she wouldn’t have to deal with her aching heart until Friday night band practices.

“Finally something we can agree on.” Steve smirks at Dustin, breaking off the path much to Dustin’s objections.

A little further into the woods, Robin looks back to see Lucas and Max in deep conversation, somewhat happy but sad at the same time to see them so close. She jumps down from a tree root and groans.

“Oh my God, they’re so adorable, I just wanna squeeze ‘em, you know?” Robin says, making you and Nancy chuckle.

“Y/n?”

You all turn to see Max stood behind you, Lucas giving a shy smile before jogging ahead to find Dustin. Looking to the girls, you give them a small salute before slowly your footsteps to stand beside Max.

Robin can’t help but smile as you go, realising there and then, she was (for the first time in her life) in the need for girl talk. And Nancy was right there, ready to go. But she couldn’t just outright say it, right? She would need some way to talk about a relationship without talking about her relationship.

“If I’m permitted to see a silver lining in any of this end-of-the-world doom and gloom, it would be the rekindling of old flames that frankly never should’ve been snuffed out.” She points a smirk at Nancy who returns her implication with wide eyes. Robin’s face drops. “I didn’t mean that as a hint or anything.”

“Right.” Nancy turns her head and Robin thins her lips. Her first girl talk and she’s ruined it in the first 5 seconds.

“But if I did mean it as a hint, would that be so terrible?” She tries, suddenly a lot more interested in someone else’s relationship problems. “For me to wish for happiness for my friends?”

Nancy scoffs. “You think I’m not happy?”

“I… I’m sure you are. It’s just, the other day in the library, I mentioned Jonathan and you sort of flinched, or winced, or something like-”

“I didn’t flinch or... wince.” She defends herself, not well enough for it to escape Robin’s radar however. “Jonathan and I are fine.”

“Got it.”

“We’re good.”

“Right.”

Nancy stares at her for a little bit before a hint of conflict rushes over her face and Robin knows she’s finally hit ‘girl talk’.

“It’s just…” She starts, hugging the bag of groceries like a safety blanket. “He was supposed to be here for the break, and then he backed out at the last minute for some vague, mumbly Jonathan reason. And, to be honest, I’m not that surprised because I’ve been feeling him pulling away lately and- and I don’t know if it’s because we’re 2000 miles away or if he met someone new or what. And now I can’t find out why because apparently he’s blown up his family’s house phone or something. So, yeah, if… if the mention of his name caused a slight muscle spasm on my face, that’s… probably why.”

Robin offers a sympathetic smile. “Seems like a perfectly reasonable reason to flinch, wince, or something.”

“You said, the happiness of your friends.” Nancy recalls, smiling. “So… does that make us friends? As in, officially?”

“Uh, yeah.” Robin blinks. “I… I mean, right?”

“Right.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Well, since we’re friends, is there anyone in… your life, that makes you happy?”

“Oh, uh…” Robin clears her throat, a breathy laugh showing her nerves. “Not really, no. No.”

“Really?” Nancy smiles in disbelief, “No one at all?”

Robin must have hesitated a second too long because Nancy is already tightening her lips, eyes light.

“Oh my- tell me.” She giggles and Robin can’t help but laugh, feeling somewhat bubbly inside at what could be her only female friend. “Please, I want to be obsessed with someone else’s love life for once.”

“Um, well, I don’t know what there is to say.” Robin blinks, unsure of how this could go.

“Just… tell me about him.”

Nancy smiles so innocently and it physically breaks Robin’s heart, cutting into a scarred wound only people like her ever could. Him. If only it were that simple.

“Well, uh, they- he, he…” Robin tries searching for the words, realising it was much harder to pretend she was crushing over a guy than it was to convince a director of an asylum that she was a prodigy in psychology. So, she spoke the truth as vaguely as she could. “He’s kind of new- in my life, I mean. I think I’ve seen him around school before but we never really crossed paths and that was fine because, well, I didn’t know what I was missing out on, you know? But, um, recently, I mean recently we got to spend a lot of time together, sometimes alone, and it- it… god, how do I put it?”

“It made you feel happier than you have in a long time?” She offers and Robin nods, scrunching her brows.

“Yeah.” She breathes, shaking her head. “I mean, it’s literally just… it’s weird, like, I haven’t even known him that long and yet I can’t stop thinking about him all the time until I’m literally sick of myself for not getting over it because we can’t work, it wouldn’t work, but also we could? Everything is mostly just a battle with myself because I can’t talk to Steve about him, like, what advice would he even offer me? Gel up my hair and say cheesy pick-up lines? No thank you. And I know I could probably just cut my losses and realise he probably doesn’t even like me back, but I can’t help just wanting him to be there like all the time, like on a- a personal level, so to speak. I wanna get to know him more, learn more about him but every time I try to I’m just babbling like a lunatic. I…”

She takes another deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. “It’s just a stupid little crush though, right? It’ll go away?”

She looks at Nancy like the girl will hold all the answers to the universe. There was a sly smirk on her face.

“Sounds like more than just a crush.” She says and Robin frowns.

“Wha- what? No, no it’s gonna… it’s just a crush.”

“A crush is like… like getting a little giddy when they come by but forgetting about them in moments that don’t have them in it.” Nancy tries to explain, tilting her head in thought. “But… but then there’s something more. Like... no matter how hard you try, you’re constantly thinking about them, about what it would be like to be with them. And then you’re noticing the little things about them, their likes or dislikes, if they smile with their teeth or have dimples. Mostly how they act around you and how scared but excited you feel when they’re sitting closer. And all this happens while your heart feels… sick, maybe.”

Robin is slowly nodding along, checking off all of her symptoms in a mental checklist.

“And when they’re not around you, you’re just waiting and waiting until you can see them again.” She smiles to herself and Robin bites her lip.

“Is that how you felt with Jonathan?”

“Yeah.” She says, adjusting the bag in her hands. “Before we started dating, I was feeling all of those things. And then…”

“And then?” Robin prompts, raising her eyebrows.

Nancy turns toward her with a knowing smile. “And then I figured out I was falling in love.”

Robin’s breath hitches in her throat, almost stumbling over another intruding tree root in the dirt. Nancy giggles a little, finding the humour in the situation. But Robin didn’t feel that. No, she felt sick. She’s crushed on girls in the past, loads of times even. So, when you came along being so nice and sweet and pretty, it was inevitable that she’d be turning a light shade of red whenever you batted your eyelashes at her, just like any other girl has. But she was wrong. Dear God, was she wrong. She didn’t have a crush on you.

She was falling in love with you.

Taglist: @kryztalglear @dejerw @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @endurexxsurvive @em16cor @gray-cheese @chaosofmanyfandoms @kitdjarin1 @some-day--some-how

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[land-of-evergreens-and-dye]

I need someone to see this and write a full fledged fic for this cause my brain cannot put this idea into any sort of words outside of this outline. Y'all have my permission to take this and run with it.

Stranger things but outside of the obvious supernatural weird shit that already exists werewolves also exist (whether other creatures also exist is up to you), and Wayne Munson is one of the more known werewolves in Hawkins. It doesn't run in the family, Wayne just got bit one fateful night so Eddie is just plain human. But Eddie is considered part of Waynes' very small pack. Wayne himself doesn't play into traditional werewolf roles. He tried to join a pack that already existed, but found the roles and hierarchies tiresome and pointless so he decided to stick to just him and Eddie as pack. Then during the events of season one Steve gets bit by the demogorgon while trying to apologise to Jon. The bite acts almost like lycanthropy, turning him into a weredemogorgan of sorts. So now the party have a problem on their hands of trying to find how to help Steve when he shifts. Steve has taken to isolating himself thinking he's a monster. So Nancy came up with the great idea of Steve spending full moons with Wayne. They don't have to give up his identity if he doesn't want to, and won't he have to worry about hurting Wayne. Steve only agrees if Wayne will have him. It's one of the things everyone knows about the man he doesn't do packs.

Wayne is skeptical when Nacy first came to him with her plan. She can't really disclose a whole lot to him about a potential new pack member only that this new member does not shift into a wolf and if the government found out all hell would break loose. But he sees the desperation and maybe a little guilt in the girls eyes and agrees to help. Imagine his surprise when the next full moon brings this towering creature crammed into the back of chief Hopper's truck looking almost sheepish despite having no face. Eddie was informed of the new comer and nearly ran for the hills when he first laid eyes on him, and he would have if Hopper didn't give him a look that could've killed.

Steve seems happier with this new arrangement since he won't let anyone from the party near him while shifted too scared he'll hurt someone. And since he was turned by something made to be apart of a hive mind being with a pack, even one as small as this one is, during the full moon helps sooth his panicky hindbrain screaming at him to be near his family. As months pass he comes to think of both Munson men as part of his pack, even though they don't know who he is. Wayne is too old and tired to try and take on the role of a traditional alpha so Steve takes the role making sure Wayne is always comfortable and that Eddie is tucked between them so no harm can find him. Eddie hates that if he's not squished between his uncle and this giant creature said creature will come grab him from his room and practically drag him the the makeshift nest in the living room by the scruff. Wayne is no help only huffing a laugh at the miffed Eddie being forced to take part in a puppy pile.

Then as the events of season 2 come around more and of the party get bit (i.e. Max, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin). So the next full moon after the tunnels a pretty pissed Steve with 4 demodogs are added to the trailer, which is getting pretty small to house these rather large guests. Joyce at least looks a little guilty trying to quietly herd them into the trailer apologizing about not having enough time before the full moon to warn the Munsons that the pack was expanding. Eddie was happy thinking these new additions would mean he no longer had to be squished into the living room, but Steve seems to have other ideas. Now instead of being placed in the middle he's made to lay on the edge of the pile laying head to head with Steve acting as an outer wall with steve doing the same for the other exposed part of the pile. Eddie does not know what to make of this. With each passing full moon Steve becomes more more affectionate with Eddie. Making sure he eats and is always within "eye" sight of him. Eddie feels werid playinng the role of some high ranked pack member helping protect what he can only assume are the children of this pack. While also not even being the same species as anyone in said pack, its practically unheard of, but when has Eddie ever been normal.

Things continue on like this and Eddie decides to name his new pack mates given he can't keep calling them things 1-4, and no one has come forward claiming to be these creatures. The names are nerdy and said creatures accept this with as much grace as faceless beings can. And Eddie can admit that since spending more time with them has been pretty cool, although watching Steve act like an absolute mother hen to his wayward pups is pretty funny. Especially when they turn their pent up energy on Wayne giving him some much needed playtime, although when they get too rough with the old man Steve makes sure to growl until they let the old man go and start rough housing among themselves. (Still not sure if they would have their own hivemind between the turned demo creatures or not up to you).

But by the time season 3 comes around thankfully no one else gets bit, but 2 new members are added to the pack in the form of a very excited Robin Buckley and a very sarcastic Erica Sinclar both of which don't want to leave their scoops troop counterparts alone and will not let slip who these creature really are. It may be due to the loss of Hopper that Steve even allows this, but Eddie will not complain since he is now no longer the only human in this pack. He was kinda hoping with Robin being added to the group that his nest protection duties were over. Maybe even a little jealous that he could be replaced so easily. But nope he just now gets the live reaction of Robin and Erica witnessing the Eddie Munson get dragged from his room to the perimeter of the pile and lay head to head with the pack alpha. Robin has the biggest shit eating grin which is making Eddie blush and Steve growl in warning, and the kids are all makeing this garbled huffing almost laughing noise along with Robin and Erica. Wayne is amused and just enjoys the pack that he now finds himself surrounded by. The biggest change after the mall supposedly burnt down due to faulty wiring, outside of his new pack mates, is his new neighbors moving in next door who seem relatively nice but keep to themselves. That and one of the pups seems more snappy towards the others yet Steve doesn't always reprimand them, much to Eddie's confusion.

By the start of the school year Eddie finds himself surrounded by 3 very excitable freshies who are overly familiar with him. All of who keep trying to involve his new neighbor with their escapades, and he watches as every attempt is met with her snapping at them to leave her alone. Then there is the new development of watching a very flustered and strung out Steve Harrington play chauffeur for his newest hellfire members and his angry new neighbor. The former king is always impatiently waiting for them to exit the drama building and ushering them into his car akways making sure to wave to Eddie for some reason. It confuses the poor man how his freshman know the former king and what they told him about Eddie to get him to always wave at him like they actually know each other.

Then the spring break from hell happens and Eddie miraculously wakes up in a private hospital room that is crammed full with the whole party, Hopper and Wayne included. The only person missing is Max who thankfully only suffered a broken arm and leg this time with Vecna fully taken care of. The moment he's awake Steve is on top of him hugging him and berating him all at once. Wayne can't even save Eddie from Steve's wrath because he's also gearing up to give Eddie a talking to as well. In the end the demobat bites have the same affect on Eddie as every other demo bite so far he heals up pretty quickly and on the next full moon debuts his new demobat form. Taking his job as pack security very seriously now that his own brain is yelling at him to protect his packmates that are growing up too fast for both his and Steve's liking.

This obviously ends with Steve and Eddie together as the packs parents. The goverment pay out the nose for leaving the fate of the world in the hands of untrained underage humans and weredemos. The trailer gets upgraded to a house able to hold their ever growing pack. Hopper is able to convince Owens to keep the goverment away from his family. And they live happily ever after or something.

[moodymisty]

How would the Horsemen react if will they discover that they have feelings for the reader?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Ohhh this is cute... Particularly for War, I just love big angry characters having soft emotions. Enjoy my unhinged ramblings.

Relationships: Fury/Gn!Reader, Strife/Gn!Reader, War/Gn!Reader, Death/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

✦ War ✦

Very abruptly. It's one of those moments that hits him like a hammer.

He hadn't even been realizing how much you'd been growing on him over time, let alone that he had been falling in love with you.

But War doesn't exactly know how to go about saying it, so it ends up sitting in the back of his mind forever. War isn't exactly super in touch with his emotions, let alone expressing them.

He's awkward for awhile simply because he desperately wants to do so much, but doesn't know how to just, say it. And much to his annoyance, he feels a bit shy about it. Expect him to get angry at himself at random times when you're alone, sometimes his cheeks even turning a bit red.

He doesn't have that same silver-tongued confidence that Strife or Fury have when it comes to these sorts of things, so he feels very out of his depth.

Once you begin to notice him becoming distracted often, or simply shutting his mouth and even at times walking away from you, you ask him what's wrong. That's the moment he finally admits his inner turmoil, through a bunch of sighs and searching for the right word to use.

He's so internally happy when you reciprocate. I hope you enjoy having a massive Horsemen as your shadow, because he isn't going anywhere.

Gives the most firm and aggressive kiss. It feels just like him.

"It is not wise to love a Horsemen; But if you'll have me, I promise I will never leave your side."

✦ Death ✦

For Death, it's a slow crawl. A slow crawl that he feels agonizingly creeping up on him as time passes, no matter how much he tries to push it down deep enough inside himself where he can forget about it.

Its an emotion with a creeping dread to it to him, as he fears the longer he lets it go on, the worse it'll be for him when he has to inevitably run from it. Or you, is his excuse. He tries to put the burden of being in love an emotion coming from you to him, and not the other way around as well. It makes it easier for him to just de-tatch himself from it, or at least try to.

But when he can't, or more so realizes he doesn't want to, he accepts that you're just a part of his heart now.

It a way it sort of, unnerves him. He doesn't like having someone so close to him. Not because he doesn't enjoy it, anything but he'd die without you being right next to him, but his mind sometimes rolls through every terrible scenario. A bad habit.

He doesn't really say anything about being in love with you however, it's just a silent upgrade in your relationship. He sits closer, touches you more; Is far gentler. His hand goes to your waist instead of your shoulder, he'll call you by your name more, or even something more personal as time passes. If you don't want him, he knows you'll push him away.

"Come here and sit down, before you go running off again."

✦ Fury ✦

Fury realizes a decent while into knowing you.

She shrugs most of the small hints that she might be falling in love on simply enjoying your company more than most, or perhaps just enjoying the company of a person besides her fellow Horsemen; And various demons and angels. None of them exactly make invigorating company, at least the ladder, so she's pleased Humans despite their nature are surprisingly pleasant company.

Far better than that Watcher, at least...

But Fury's heavily defensive of making sure she doesn't show any sort of weakness, so she confesses far less overtly than someone like say Strife. Being unwaverable and confident is a part of her horrible self defense strategy, one that's hard to break.

Though once she does, that confidence definitely translates in the opposite direction. She's not afraid to woo you once she knows there's no chance of her feelings (no one can tell her she has them though or she'll get angry) being dropped off a cliff with your rejection.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not g- Fine. I love you. Now are you done looking at me like that? It's not fair."

✦ Strife ✦ DONE

Strife falls hard. And fast.

So few people have shown him kindness in his long and awful life, he's infatuated when you show him so much of it. He swears the first day he met you he fell in love and just didn't realize it; But he'll never admit this thought.

However his desperate desire to be seen and be loved conflicts with his inner turmoil about his past and current sins, and it eats away at him until he doubts that he's even worthy of being near you, let alone loving you.

He's been of the mind that an ex-cutthroat isn't one that you should be around at all, let alone making your lover. You're his little human, he wants to keep you safe and after awhile, he sees himself as part of the things you should be kept safe from.

At the climax of it, Strife vanishes. You don't see him for days, until one day he comes rushing to you like a bat out of hell, more than likely waking you up in the middle of the night.

He'd had the frightening realization that his heart would just shatter if he didn't see you again, and if he didn't just let all this out.

He tries to spend next hour verbal vomiting every single thought he's had about being in love since meeting you, until you just shut him up and kiss him.

"I ain't going anywhere. You're stuck with me now, you hear?"

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Soooo...I'm back-

Enjoy!

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

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Chapter 15: Feeling Lighthearted

(More beneath the cut)

It was like a breath of fresh air to discover that things could get easier. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him. Maybe it should have been obvious that he didn’t have to live in this quiet sort of misery any more, but it still feels as though it took Mumbo by surprise. It surprised him that doing things was easier. That it was easier to exist and actually feel like a human.

Having a clean apartment felt like a restart. The same way it feels like a restart when you finally shower after being sick, as if cleaning out the dirt had also cleaned up his mind. Getting back into routines, going to work, and taking care of himself was strangely easy. As much as he felt relieved about how simple it was, it also bugged him slightly. Things had changed, and it barely felt like it.

Maybe that was for the better.

As the days passed, he discovered small things that were suddenly a lot more convenient. Like finding stuff in the flat. Before, he had to go through piles of belongings that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but now everything was where it was supposed to be.

It was easier to get the energy to do the dishes, when he only had a small amount to do. Same went for doing laundry.

He had stopped sleeping in front of the TV, and had moved back into his bedroom. No longer did the blue light keep him awake, no longer was it his only company and, somehow, falling asleep in a clean room went quicker than in a messy one.

~

It was most likely not just the clean flat that made him feel better. Sure, it had definitely helped a lot, and had made day to day life a lot less overwhelming, but other things had to have helped as well.

The thing that had probably helped the most, the thing that felt like it was going to make the biggest difference, was that Mumbo was finally getting a therapist. It had been a long time coming, when he really reflected on the way that his mental state had declined so dramatically over the past months, but he hadn’t been ready. Maybe he still wasn’t, not to take that step by himself, at least.

Luckily, he had Iskall.

Iskall hadn't nagged him or forced him to get one. But they gently reminded him that it was an option whenever the opportunity arose. They helped him look, when he finally started to consider it, and reminded him to take a break when searching for options became too overwhelming. It took a little bit, but, eventually, the pair found one that seemed right.

Mumbo thought that it was a bit funny, in a way, that just trying to get help could be overwhelming. It’s just odd really, he would chuckle, that your mind wants to fight against getting the help you need.

That strange urge to run and hide from the help he was seeking was the clearest when Mumbo almost backed out of the first appointment. His legs had felt like jello, knees shaking like he was wearing shorts in a snowstorm. He hadn't been able to wipe the sweat off his palms, and his stomach had made him feel like throwing up what little food he'd been able to eat that day.

It was frightening, he had realized as he bit on the inside of his cheek. Getting help felt terrifying.

Hell, what would happen if it didn't help? What if the therapist thought that he was being silly? What if it turned out that he actually didn't have any issues, and functioned perfectly well, and was just making up stuff for attention? He must be blowing it out of proportion, right?

He was stuck on the kitchen floor for a little while, trying to force himself to calm down. He had sat down in a corner of the kitchen, a cup of tea he'd been meaning to drink cooling on the counter, his phone in hand, held with a desperate grip.

Mumbo chewed nervously and frantically on the inside of his cheek as he tried his hardest to breathe. He tried to run through all the various breathing exercises that he’d been learning, but nothing seemed to work. By the time that he bit at his cheek hard enough to draw blood, he finally managed to unlock his phone to call Iskall.

“Hallo?” Their voice erupted from the speaker, crackly and warped. “Iskall speaking.”

This was stupid. Childish even, Iskall surely would think so too. Mumbo's mind was telling him to hang up, he shouldn't have called. How can a grown man not get himself to go to the scheduled appointment? He was utterly ridiculous.

“Hi,” he forced out, blinking back the tears that were surging forward at the awful weight of his thoughts. “Um, it's Mumbo, I'm really sorry for calling, but I'm kinda, sorta- uh- on the verge of a breakdown?” Mumbo tried to be proud of himself for pushing through the feeling of hang-up-god-dammit-you-are-being-ridiculous that was spreading rapidly through his body and mind, but it was too hard. Everything was just too hard.

“Oh-” Iskall replied after what was probably only a couple of seconds, but still managed to feel so sudden that Mumbo almost jumped out of his skin. From the concern in their voice, he could vividly picture an Iskall with furrowed brows and downturned lips, and his hands only shook harder at the knowledge that he was causing them such concern. “Are you… hm, is there anything I can do to help?”

Mumbo nodded, fully aware that they couldn't see him. It made him feel even more stupid. “Yeah, uh- this is stupid, I'm sorry, but could you please come over?” He gasped, his chest tight. “I mean you don't have to, especially not if you're busy, but it would make everything just a tiny bit easier. I'm really sorry, you don't have to, I'm just panicking, it's silly, sorry.”

He heard Iskall let out a small, kind laugh, something so reassuring that he could’ve melted right then and there. “Hey, don't apologize, I asked if I could help. I'm currently not doing anything too important either way, so…” They went silent for a second. “I should probably be able to be at your place in about uh, forty minutes, I think? Is that okay? I just have a few things to finish up before leaving.”

Relief flooded Mumbo, rushing through him like ocean waves, calming after a storm. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be fine."

"You sure? I could maybe get to your place sooner, but-"

"No no, it's fine. I can wait," Mumbo responded, breathing calmer.

“Okay, I'll be there in a bit then,” Iskall replied, their voice even and calm. “Bye for now.”

“Bye.”

If Mumbo had to be honest with himself, he absolutely hated waiting. It usually paralyzed him, left him in a terrible stasis of sitting around and overthinking every possibility. However, this time it almost felt nice to have some time to gather himself before Iskall showed up.

During the forty minutes he spent waiting, he spent five of those sitting on the kitchen floor. Then he spent ten minutes laying on the floor instead, when it got difficult to breathe again. It took him a while to be able to stand up, his legs still feeling far too weak to even try, and he had lost track of the time when he eventually managed to get to his feet.

He took it slow, breathed in and out carefully, and leant on the counter with a shaky step forward. It wasn’t much, but still, he felt just that little bit better.

Mumbo glanced at the clock as he put his, now cold, cup of tea in the microwave, silently setting the timer and watching the seconds count down. He breathed in time with that too, using the boxy numbers as a reference for each inhale.

He flinched again when it beeped, despite his eagle-eyed focus on the timer, before slowly pulling the steaming cup out from inside. The last few minutes before Iskall’s arrival were spent sitting at the table just cradling the warm cup. He still felt too anxious to be able to drink it, but just holding it and letting the warmth put feeling back into his fingers was relaxing.

Then finally, the doorbell rang. A wave of silence filled Mumbo's head, his mind calming down a lot more. He had company now, Iskall was right outside. They’d listen to his worries, they’d take care of him.

Still a bit shaky, Mumbo made his way to the front door.

~

Iskall ended up sitting at the table with Mumbo for a while, as Mumbo vented his anxiety about the appointment. They didn't judge him, nor tell him that his anxiety was irrational, even though it surely was, they just listened in silence.

“You know, you don't have to go to therapy if you don't want to,” they said when Mumbo eventually ran out of steam, slumping back into his seat like a marionette with its strings cut.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring wide-eyed at the other for a few long moments, just watching Iskall’s expression, trying to understand exactly what they thought of him. “I-I know,” Mumbo settled on eventually. “I just…it feels like it would help. Even though I'm worried that it might not, or that I'm just exaggerating how I'm feeling, I feel like I should try.”

Iskall hummed in understanding. “I see, well…if you want - just as a suggestion - I could go with you?” They leant back in their chair as they took a sip of their tea. “I'd wait outside, then we could go for a coffee afterwards, and you can decide then if you'd like to go to another appointment.”

They paused for a moment, giving Mumbo a breath to process what they were suggesting, before pushing on.

“That way, you’ve given it a go. You’ve felt what it's like, and you can properly figure out if it's for you.” They nodded confidently, setting their teacup down with a quiet clink. “Also, it’d give you the opportunity to see if the therapist we’ve found is right for you or not.”

Mumbo turned the words over in his mind with a thoughtful hum. It seemed like a good idea, really. It did, in fact, make him feel better about the entire thing, and suddenly he realized just how badly he had been craving that familiar company. He hadn't even realized that he had felt like he had to go, despite not being fully sure if he wanted to; the thought of having a familiar face there to wave him in felt like a godsend.

It was like everything was finally clicking into place, and Mumbo hadn’t even realized that he was smiling.

He grinned up at Iskall, the warmth of his own tea seeping pleasantly into his hands. “Yeah,” Mumbo said, and it sounded almost confident. “Yeah, that'd be amazing.”

~

In the end, his therapist turned out to be lovely. She had a certain calm, understanding energy about her that made Mumbo relax almost as soon as he stepped into her office.

The entire situation still felt a bit weird, definitely, but that weirdness wasn’t so uncomfortable anymore. Instead, it felt almost exciting. He was glad that he was trying something new.

It just felt nice to talk to someone who didn't know him, and therefore wouldn't say things to just please him. Someone who listened just to listen, without Mumbo feeling as if he was a burden for talking. It was a bit anxiety inducing, since it was his first time, but it felt like that anxiety would disappear in the future, and by the end of the session, Mumbo felt a lot lighter.

“So?” Iskall asked with a smile, as the pair of them walked out of the building together.

“I'll go back next week,” Mumbo replied. “It was a lot nicer than I thought. I think it might genuinely help me a lot.”

Iskall smiled, the sort of smile that spreads so uncontrollably across your lips until the corners of your mouth ache. “That's good to hear,” they said, and they looked so happy. They looked so glad. “Now, how about that coffee?”

Mumbo only laughed in response. It might've just been his head making things up, but some part of him was so certain that smile looked proud.

It felt nice, to make his friend proud.

~

Another thing that helped was knowing that he had people who cared about him. Yes, he had his siblings and Iskall, but he had other people as well. They had fallen to the wayside a little in the midst of everything that had happened, a fact that Mumbo couldn’t help but feel guilty for, but that hadn’t seemed to change much. In fact, it felt exactly the same as it did before when Tango messaged him to invite him to hang out.

He said that he was planning a small get together, and had wondered if Mumbo was interested in joining. It would be him, Mumbo, Impulse, as well as a few of Tango's other friends: Zedaph, Skizz, and Cub.

The first thing Mumbo felt was a shockwave of anxiety. He couldn't say no to such a kind offer, but what if they didn't want him there? What if they just invited him out of courtesy? It would be out of character, sure, but he couldn’t blame them for not wanting to spend time with him. Especially when he had been so absent for the past few months.

But… something about that didn’t feel right.

So Mumbo took a step back, just like his therapist had once recommended to him. He took a second to breathe, to drink some water and refresh himself before looking at the message again. And, this time, as he looked over the first text that had been sent between them in weeks, (a text that very clearly wasn’t trying to pressure him or force him into anything; a text that left his options open), Mumbo knew that it was genuine.

He was a little ashamed of the surprise he felt at that, but it felt like a step in the right direction either way. Mumbo hadn’t ever really thought about it, but in the back of his mind there was a constant feeling that people - his friends, his colleagues, everyone - disliked him.

Getting invited to something and pushing past that feeling… it suddenly meant a lot more. It felt nice to know that people wanted to see him. It felt nice to know that people cared about him. Even if they weren't close, and even if they weren't Gr-

He pushed that thought away, good mood suddenly soured.

He should probably reply to Tango.

~

Mumbo felt a bit awkward as he stood outside of Tango's apartment, one shaking finger hovering above the doorbell. He knew that they wouldn't mind him being there, since he had been invited, but the muffled laughter sounding from inside made his heart twist.

Anxiety crept up his spine, whispering horrible promises into his ears. He really didn’t want to ruin the joy inside the flat, and a part of him worried that he would, whilst another stubbornly argued against it. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there like that, paralyzed under the frozen grasp of his fear, in half a mind to just turn around and leave. It might’ve been hours, though that was incredibly unlikely.

He only managed to snap out of his anxious daze when his phone pinged, a sharp noise that rang in his ears like the most obnoxious of yelling. He shook out his sweaty hands and took a deep breath, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Iskall’s in the back of his mind, telling him that he wasn’t alone. That it was okay to be here, and that it was okay if he needed to leave early. He was taking this at his own pace, and that’s alright.

He was welcome here, Mumbo reminded himself as he pressed the doorbell. He was visiting his friends, and they would be happy to see him.

It only took a second for the door to open, as if Tango had run for it the moment that Mumbo rang. He was laughing as he opened the door, his cheeks red with a full, rosy sort of happiness, and he beamed as he saw Mumbo waiting there.

“Dude!” Tango exclaimed, throwing his arms out for a hug. “I'm so happy that you decided to join, come on inside!”

Mumbo smiled in response, leaning into his hold with a deep inhale, before the pair were walking further into the apartment.

Tango handed him a hanger out of nowhere, gesturing to a rail where Mumbo could leave his coat. “Feel free to just leave that there. There's snacks in the kitchen if you want any, and we’re just hanging out in the living room for now!” He explained, hands waving around all the while. Mumbo responded with a nod.

“Awesome. Now, I gotta make sure that–” A loud crash interrupted whatever he was saying, and Mumbo watched a little dazedly as Tango’s brows shot up like something straight out of a cartoon, and he yelled, “Zedaph! I swear to God, if you–”

Whatever else he was trying to say was lost to another echoing crash, before Tango was sprinting back down the hall without so much as a second glance. Laughter erupted as the man disappeared around the corner, and Mumbo took another deep breath at the sudden chaos.

Well, he found himself relaxing. Might as well grab some food.

~

The energy in the living room was comfortable and infectious. As soon as Mumbo had sat down on the couch, a bag of crisps tucked under his arm, he got pulled into playing a board game.

As it turned out, Cub had brought a friend along as well, and Tango quickly decided that it would work best if they played in three separate teams. On one team it was Tango and Zedaph, another was Impulse and Skizz, and Mumbo ended up on a team with Cub, and his friend, Scar.

The first few rounds went pretty well, with Scar showing himself to be particularly adept at scamming everyone else out of points, including his own teammates, somehow. They quickly ended up in the lead, whilst Tango and Zed were second, and Impulse and Skizz were last. Lighthearted bickering was quick to follow between the two losing teams, which quickly distracted them from the game.

Mumbo silently watched them, his heart yet again twinged as it reminded him of the dynamic he, Iskall, and Grian used to have. He missed it. He missed it a lot, actually. He wished he could somehow turn back time, to before-

“Don't mind them,” Cub cut through the mayhem suddenly, as if noticing how Mumbo started to get lost in his thoughts. “The four of them have been close since high school, so they're bound to get a bit distracted,” he explained with a sharp grin.

“I can tell, they all seem to share a brain cell,” Mumbo smiled.

Cub leant back with a hearty laugh, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

Quiet fell between them then, but Mumbo found it wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t have any qualms with sitting back to watch the chaos unfold, and breaking the silence didn’t feel intimidating either. Something about that felt… new.

“How long have you known them?” Mumbo asked quickly, trying not to dwell on it as he turned to face Cub.

“Hm, not that long, really. I met Impulse in university, and he introduced me to Tango and Zed within a week. Apparently Zed was even on the same course as me, I had just never noticed until after I’d met him.” He shrugged. “Skizz showed up a little while later, since he lived in another city. So- not long. Scar, on the other hand…”

At that, Scar leaned into their conversation in a way that told Mumbo he thought he was being inconspicuous, like a cat who thinks you can’t see them because they’re moving slowly. He really wasn’t.

“I've known Impulse for a while!” He started. “Honestly, I can’t remember where we met. One second I didn't know him, and then, bam! I had known him for years.” He laughed, something buttery and pleasant. “He must've introduced me to the others as well, except for Skizz, I hadn't met him until now. Actually–”

As Scar kept talking, Mumbo found he couldn't help but to listen. Something about him was magnetizing, a sort of natural charisma that made him impossible to dislike. It was so reminiscent of- of-

“Well, anyway, that’s how we snuck a rooster into our final!” Scar concluded, before turning his attention to Mumbo. “Mumbo! A little birdy told me that you're a fan of Ariana?”

Apparently, at some point during Scar’s rambling, the others managed to drag Cub into their weird argument, leaving Scar and Mumbo to their conversation. He had barely noticed when it happened, but now he was cursing being left alone. It felt like his heart had stopped, blood rushing in his ears as the world around them fell deathly silent.

Memories of the Fridays spent on his couch, watching videos together with Grian clouded his mind like smoke. Memories of them laughing together, of them sitting in comfortable silence together.

“Uh, yes, I am,” Mumbo coughed, trying to get that smoke out of his lungs as quickly as he could. “I-I’ve been into her music for a while now, I've followed her for a few years. Which is honestly pretty funny, since my childhood friend, Iskall, is her manager. So, um, yeah.” He smiled awkwardly at Scar, clearing his throat again.

“Oh!” Scar exclaimed, something lighting up in his eyes, “I guess it really is a small world!” He laughed again, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Mumbo honestly felt a bit confused now. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Oh, well, I know Iskall as well! I happen to be Ariana's bodyguard, actually,” he replied casually, as if he were talking about the weather. As if everyone worked with the most well-known celebrity in the country.

Mumbo's brain was absolutely whirring with the new information, as he filed through all the information that he knew about Ariana, (which, unsurprisingly, was quite a lot.)

“Oh!” He gasped as he recalled the name of Ariana’s head of security. “You're Scar Goodtimes?” He didn’t really mean to ask, but the question slipped out with such ease that Mumbo couldn’t even find it in himself to be ashamed.

“The one and only!” Scar said. “So you know my full name, but didn't recognise me?” He asked curiously.

Mumbo blushed. “Well, I’m rather face blind, if I’m honest… I always have been! I've seen photos of you, but you tend to be dressed in suits and sunglasses, so, uh, sorry. If you hadn't said anything I probably wouldn't have realized.”

“Ah, I see,” Scar nodded with a strict understanding. “That makes sense!”

They were quiet for a second as Mumbo processed the information, sifting through the things that he knew about Scar’s work in his mind. Then, he spoke again, “I, er, I hope you don't mind me asking, but… what is she like? I only know what Iskall’s told me, but they haven’t said much.”

Scar looked thoughtful, mulling over the question for a minute or two before he started, “Well, it's a bit hard to say! She's very sweet, and polite. One of the most humble celebrities I've worked with, that’s for sure, but other than that, I don't actually know much.” The man looked as if he was debating something then, so Mumbo stayed quiet, even as his words came to a stop.

“... She struggles a bit with her mental health from time to time,” Scar eventually seemed to decide on. “And she's a very private lady. The person who knows the most about her is definitely Iskall, and I don't know either of them that well, unfortunately.”

Mumbo nodded, the answer not coming as a surprise. “Well, thank you, anyway. I couldn’t help but to ask, I must admit that I'm rather curious about her.”

“Ah, no worries! I would've asked as well if the roles were reversed.” Scar replied with a smile. “Well, while I might not know much about Ariana, I certainly found out quite a lot about roosters. Let me tell you–”

Scar started talking again, and as Mumbo listened he found himself watching the rest of the group. He couldn't help but miss his own, the ones that were as close to him as these friends were to each other. He couldn't help but to miss Grian.

He felt an urge to text him, to ask him how he was doing, to beg him to please come over again, can we just talk?

Mumbo pushed the urge away as much as he could.

~

After his visit at Tango's, Mumbo found himself missing freshly cooked meals. Impulse had cooked up a feast later into the evening, a wide spread of vegetables and meats, all seasoned and baked to perfection, and even the thought of them now made his mouth water.

He’d been living off of instant ramen and frozen meals for too long, and it left his fridge and cabinets far too empty for comfort. Instead of being filled with food that he could actually use, it was filled with random jars he didn't remember buying, sauces he never used, pickled things, and random packets that looked a bit too suspicious. The vegetables he did have didn't look fresh at all, and also, where the hell did all these tubes come from?

He sighed heavily, desperately wanting to put off buying food to another day, since it was pouring outside. He would rather stay at home, drink some tea and watch whatever crap was on TV, but then his stomach growled again and he remembered Impulse’s cooking, and… damn it, he should go to the store.

After all, what would Iskall say if they saw his fridge now? What would they think? What would Gr-

Mumbo shook his head, snapping out of the train of thought. He didn't want to think about him, but ever since he was at Tango's, he had started to pop up in his head more and more. He sighed, waited for his mind to clear a bit. It hurt too much to think about him, about the things that he might say.

So, instead of thinking, Mumbo grabbed some reusable bags and sat down at the kitchen table. He very pointedly avoided looking at Grian’s seat as he made a list of the things he needed.

He read through the list a few times, double checked that he’d written tea down, and glanced through the cabinets one last time to see if he needed anything else.

When he couldn't find anything missing, Mumbo grabbed his coat, pulled on his boots, and started towards the store.

~

Half of the time, Mumbo found grocery shopping to be the most dull, boring and uninteresting thing on the planet, and at other times, he found it therapeutic to walk through the isles listening to music, crossing things off from the list.

This time, it was definitely the latter.

That was another one of those things that had made life a little bit better, to find joy in ordinary chores and mundane tasks. There was something pleasant about doing what he needed to, about taking care of himself, about being able to do small things that he would have previously dreaded with a smile.

Somehow, his motivation for cooking a decent meal didn’t disappear while he was out grocery shopping, and he even left with a solid meal plan scribbled down on the back of his shopping list. He walked out of the doors with two hefty bags and a pleasant lightness on his shoulders even so, and, in his good mood, Mumbo decided that he’d walk the nicer route home. It was longer, sure, but it let him wind through some lovely little side-streets and a vibrant park or two.

He stumbled on a cute bakery as he walked, a small, independent looking store with fresh bread lining the windows. The scent from the bakery was absolutely heavenly, and he couldn't stop himself from going back to it, just to buy some bread. Sure, he had bread he'd bought at the grocery store and buying more things only made the bags harder to carry, but bakery bread was always a lot better, so it was worth it.

So, Mumbo ended up with bags that were heavy, filled to the absolute brim with fresh vegetables and ripe fruits, as well as two loaves of freshly baked bread. He had to stop a few times on the walk home to let his arms relax, otherwise he'd end up with aching arms and his food would most definitely end up getting dropped on the street. Yet, it didn't change how content he felt.

Even if it was still raining, even if his arms ached, and even if he had started to long for a cup of hot tea. He still felt content.

Then, Mumbo turned the corner onto his street.

He was nearly home, he could see his apartment building from where he stood, but that did nothing to stop the grocery bags from clattering out of his loose grip. The bread fell out, its beautiful crust soaked in a puddle on the pavement, and the punnet of apples came loose, fruit rolling across the ground. All of those good things were ruined in an instant, all of the things that he had been looking forward to were nothing more than a smushed pile against gray concrete.

But none of that mattered, and Mumbo wasn’t watching as eggs smashed and vegetables bruised. Instead, he was slack, staring straight ahead with weak, shaking hands.

Because right across the street, on the familiar, uneven doorstep of Mumbo’s apartment block, stood Grian.

He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his back turned to the street. Even so, Mumbo could see that he was twisting his hands anxiously, picking at the skin around his nails. It was almost picturesque, the way that he stood there on the empty side of the street, as if everyone had cleared out to give the two of them this moment - though, realistically, most people were probably just inside because of the rain.

Mumbo couldn’t care about the loss of his groceries as he blinked owlishly at Grian, frozen in place. He couldn't really believe his eyes as he took in every detail of the man’s silhouette, trying to convince himself that it wasn't just his imagination; that Grian was actually there.

He stared at him as he glanced up towards the window of Mumbo's flat, as he flitted between pacing or just tapping his foot, seemingly unaware of everything around him. He looked like he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to decide whether he should leave or not. Everytime that he steeled himself, spine straightening and hands curling into fists, he’d crumble, and go back to just standing outside the building, rocking back and forth.

Grian looked significantly better than the last time Mumbo saw him. His hair was in better shape, trimmed and washed, albeit wet from the rain. He wondered what style Grian usually let it sit in now, he wondered if that had changed, since they last saw each other so many weeks ago. His clothes looked clean, he was standing straighter, and he seemed to have put effort into what he was wearing.

All in all, he looked good. He looked better, so much better. If it wasn't for the pacing, Mumbo would've assumed that Grian was doing well.

It could have been hours that Mumbo stood there, glued to the pavement with watering, blinkless eyes, before Grian finally made up his mind on what he was going to do. He watched with horror as Grian turned around, walking in the opposite direction.

He hadn't seen Mumbo, hadn't noticed him.

He had decided to leave.

Mumbo’s heart dropped from his throat to his toes, fluttering with the desperate pace of a hummingbird, and yet, he couldn't move. He was frozen in place, deafening pulse hammering in his ears. He had to move! He had to!

It wasn't until a passerby walked into him, too busy looking at the groceries littering the ground, that Mumbo moved. In that moment he didn't care about the bread, he didn’t care about making himself a good, fresh meal, or the fact that there was traffic on the road. He didn't care if he ran into someone. He didn’t care if he made a fool of himself.

All he could care about was stopping Grian from leaving. He had to stop him from leaving.

His heart was yelling at him that if he didn't stop Grian from leaving, then this would be the last time he ever saw him. That they'd be stuck in this godawful limbo forever, neither of them ever gaining the strength to try and fix things between them. In those few seconds, where all he could see was the retreating outline of Grian’s rain-soaked hair, he was certain that was true.

It was true for both of them, but he could fix it. Right now, he could fix it.

That's why Mumbo ran out into the road without a second thought, throwing himself straight out into traffic, and only narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car. The driver slammed on their horn and rolled down the window to yell curses at him for his recklessness, but he could barely hear it.

Mumbo could only sprint as fast as he could, legs pumping under him like he was possessed. Adrenaline and fear and longing all melted together into some dangerous potion in his gut, he only cared about stopping Grian, he–

He didn't stop running until he caught up to Grian, his fingers first just brushing against the sleeve of his jacket as he remained just out of reach. In that split second, it was like Grian was nothing but a figment of his imagination, a shadow haunting him as he slipped through quivering fingers. It was only a moment, but the surge of absolute terror that rushed through him at that gave Mumbo a boost like nothing else.

Before he really knew what was happening, he had managed to grab Grian with a far sharper grip, long fingers tangling around his arm like a vice. He watched, tense and slightly lightheaded, as Grian yelled in response, spinning around like a whip as he tried to yank himself away.

His expression was sour, his eyelashes wet, as he seemed about ready to scream at whatever stranger had grabbed him until they let go.

Mumbo watched the exact instant that he realized who it was that was holding onto him.

Grian’s angry expression faded rapidly, first settling into a look of pure disbelief, before a hint of relief and happiness coloured his face. A smile was next, small and barely-there but still present enough to send fireworks shooting through Mumbo’s chest. He looked as if couldn't believe his eyes at all.

In a second, the happiness faded and his face crumpled like a child, something young and helpless and pained overtaking every inch of his expression. He looked sadder and more regretful than Mumbo had ever seen him, his mouth moving wordlessly as he stared up at the taller man.

Up close, Mumbo’s only thought was that he was glad Grian was truly doing better. With relief, he could see that Grian was wearing a small amount of makeup to highlight his features. It was polished, carefully placed and vibrant, but didn't hide the fact that he still had bags beneath his eyes. He still looked tired, a sleeplessness that may as well have been etched into his very bones, but the dark circles were so much less apparent than before.

Then, finally, Grian managed to croak, “Mumbo?” He said shakily, and Mumbo had never heard his name sound like an oath before. He had never heard someone call for him like they had been thinking of him for weeks, like they had been practicing holding the shape of his name on their tongue.

He could do nothing but stare, taking in every detail of the man’s face as the pair of them stood together, stuck in place. Mumbo’s tight, shaking grip stayed on Grian’s arm, his mind blank as he tried to think of a single word that would be a reply good enough for something as terrifying and profound as Grian’s own.

But he couldn’t; couldn’t do anything but gape as he spotted a half-smoked cigarette between Grian's fingers. He seemed to have forgotten it, unlit due to the rain, the smell only slightly present. How long had Grian been pacing? How long had he been out in the rain?

“Mumbo, listen, I–” Grian inhaled, about to continue, but was promptly cut off by Mumbo pulling him into a tight hug.

Grian gasped, and for a split second Mumbo was terrified that Grian wouldn't hug back, that he would resist, push Mumbo away, and leave. That this would be it, he would watch as Grian retreated away from him, and they would have forever missed their chance.

He could feel as Grian trembled. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go.

Then, he felt a pair of hands hovering over his back. At first they were careful, landing lightly on his soaking wet coat, but quickly they turned desperate. Those hands felt searching against him, grabbing fistfuls of as much fabric as they could reach, like whatever Grian could hold would stay with him forever. Like Mumbo would leave if Grian didn’t hold on tightly enough.

Mumbo barely registered that the other was crying, the tears blending with the rain, smudged into every other droplet that was already coating his shoulder.

"I'm sorry,” Grian sobbed, burying his head in Mumbo's shoulder. “I'm so sorry."

There were tears on Mumbo’s cheeks too as he pulled Grian as close as he could, burying his nose in damp, blond hair.

“It's okay, I'm here. It's okay," he reassured, and he wasn’t quite sure who he was talking to as he said it. It didn’t matter, they both heard it.

Neither wanted to let go, as they stood there in the pouring rain. Neither could bring themself to.

[hard-boiled-criminal]

A Witch Adrift

Chapter 1 - The Idea of a Demon is Tempting

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     “Okay… you can do this. No big deal. Not like fucking up could cost you your life or anything, haha?...Right?...Yeah, let’s go with that. Good first impressions are a must here, and I know I look hot; I didn’t spend so long on my appearance for nothing. Candles, check. Chalk pentacle, check. Blessed salt circle for just in case, check. Super old book that may or may not be cursed, check. Fancy-looking athame, check. Alright, I believe that’s everything. Now for the incantation and blood, I guess. Okay, (y/n), deep breaths. Nothing to be worried about. It’s just like… following a recipe. Something simple like riding a bicycle, or cracking an egg, or committing premeditated murder. Okay, incantation, incantation…” You delicately open up the book, flipping to the page with the summoning incantation, silently scolding yourself for not placing a bookmark earlier.

     You take a deep breath, “Here we go.” Standing outside of the salt circle, you begin to chant, “O magne inscrutabilis potentia, a te peto ut det desiderium meum. Meo sanguine et devotione pathetice te peto, ut me ab aliis amoris mundum tribuas. Corpus meum ad locum quod maxime cupio. Please, Give me pretty boys! Preferably non-human, but I’ll honestly settle for almost anything humanoid!”* You prick your finger on the tip of the athame, and watch as you let a drop of your blood drip onto the pentacle encircled with salt. 

     A moment passes. Then a few more. ‘Maybe it’s like… a slow internet connection? Or maybe I just have bad metaphysical reception? And I just have to wait a little bit longer? Yeah, that has to be it.’ You end up waiting there for about ten more minutes before you finally accept defeat and retreat to your bed. “Can’t believe I thought that’d work on the first try. Summoning a hot monster boyfriend is gonna be harder than it seems.” With the heavy weight of disappointment aiding in your exhaustion, you succumbed to sleep quite easily that night.

     An uncomfortable warmth is what first rouses you from your slumber. You wriggle around a bit, trying to kick the covers off. The second thing that rouses you is the panic you begin to feel when instead of soft blankets, you feel hard wood instead– Hot wood. Your eyes snap open, and in a blind panic, you try to sit up, only to immediately hit your forehead against wood, just mere inches away from your face. You try to look around, but it’s too dark to see anything. Your surroundings are steadily getting hotter, going from an uncomfortable to a worryingly high heat. You try to feel around you, but quickly realize you are completely and utterly trapped with scarce room to move around in. ‘Ok, ok ok ok ok, okay. Calm down. Don’t panic, don’t panic . You’re fine. It’s just hot. And cramped. Think! Calm down, and think .’ You’re still panicking, but you’ve managed to force yourself to breathe in deep breaths instead of hyperventilating; it only helps somewhat, the air being too hot and stuffy to breathe easily. Reasonably, you know that telling yourself to not panic will not help in the slightest, but you don’t have much of a choice. Forcing yourself to breathe is the only option you have. Your ears are ringing and it feels as if your pitch-black surroundings have somehow managed to get even darker. You start to brace your palms against the wood in front of you, but you slightly flinch back. The wood is starting to get too hot to touch. You manage to get your hands together in front of you to be able to wrap the bell sleeves–’since when was I wearing this?’ –around your hands as some sort of makeshift oven mitts. Bracing your elbows against the surprisingly plush surface underneath you, you push your hands against the slab of wood in front of you. Desperately scrounging up all the strength you can muster, you push, and push, and push, and p–Your hands fly forward as it suddenly pops off, flinging itself to somewhere out of sight. The sudden rush of fresh air isn’t as refreshing as you hoped; instead of clean air you end up with a lungful of smoke.

     Your chest hurts and you can’t stop yourself from violently coughing. There’s so much smoke– too much smoke. You struggle to sit up and pull yourself out of your now-open box; there’s too little air and you’ve already lost control of your breathing without realizing. Using the side of the box, you hold onto it as you roll yourself over the edge, only to have the air knocked out of you when you hit the ground after falling a larger distance than you expected. With a short whine of pain, you look up; the box, which you can now tell is a coffin , is floating about a meter off the ground. You slowly roll over onto your stomach and finally manage to take a glance of the room you’re now in. 

     Blue. Bright, unnaturally blue flames surround the elegant room, accented by numerous identical floating coffins and a fountain of green liquid bubbling in the center.

     ‘Did I… did I actually succeed?!’ You feel your panic start to subside as excitement brews in your chest to replace it. ‘Did I actually manage to summon a hot hunk of a demon?!’ Your excitement quickly morphs back into panic when you remember where you were. ‘Wait, if they managed to trap me so easily and are confident enough to allow me to even have a chance to escape, that means they must be very powerful… Oh no, what if they’re really mad?! What if they hate me for summoning them?! Oh, no, you’ve really done it now, (y/n),’ Unconsciously, you shifted to rest on your knees and grab your head, anxiety quickly overwhelming any panic you felt. 

     “How dare you ignore the Great Grim!” a shrill voice makes you flinch in surprise. It seems your panic has subsided enough to have your ears stop ringing and allow you to hear once again. 

     You turn to face the, admittedly, odd voice for a demon and see… a cat . All those high-octane emotions you felt disappeared in an instant. All that hard work, and you ended up with a talking cat with… flaming ears? You rub your eyes and look again, hoping that maybe the panic combined with the smoke in your system is making you see things.

     It’s still a cat.

     “Man, this is not what I signed up for; I’m goin’ back to sleep.” You began to stand back up but stopped when you remembered all the smoke. And then also remembered that you woke up in a floating coffin that you definitely did not want to go back in.

     ‘Wait, if I was in a coffin, does that mean all these other coffins also have people in them?!’ You look at the rude cat with a newfound horror. ‘If this cat is the source of the fire, does that mean it’s trying to kill all these people?!’

     “Stop ignoring the Great Grim and hurry up an’ gimme your uniform!” The cat spoke again, but their words went in one ear and out the other.

     The room was steadily getting hotter and the smoke kept compounding, slowly filling the room. With no time to waste, you took off in a sprint towards the double doors a small ways behind the cat.

     “Wha–hey! You can’t leave without giving me my uniform! Get back here!” The cat, who was now behind you, yelled as you ran past it.

     The hot flames licked at your clothed legs, but you didn’t stop; you couldn’t afford to if you wanted to live, or at least not get severely burned. When you reached the door, you didn’t bother to stop as you grabbed and twisted the handle and slammed your shoulder into it, forcing it open. The door was heavier than you expected, most definitely going to leave a bruise on your poor shoulder, and opened only barely enough to squeeze yourself through before it slammed itself shut. You ran down the cold corridor, the cool air a welcome change to the sweltering room you escaped from. The corridor seemed to be outside, with only the stone path and some pillars separating it from a courtyard. As you ran, you clumsily patted out the flames clinging to your pants.

     You hoped the heavy doors would delay the cat, but it didn’t work for long, which you learned when you heard, “Don’t run from me, human!” come from not far behind you.

     A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed that the cat was catching up to you much too quickly for your liking. A sudden burst of heat at your back made you screech and look behind you again. The cat reared back and shot out supposedly another blue flamethrower, assuming that’s what had just hit you. Without thinking, you flung yourself to the side and dove into the courtyard. You hit the ground hard, not exactly ready to do any parkour, and rolled a few times before clumsily picking yourself back up, stumbling a bit before breaking out into a sprint again. Though thoroughly out of breath, you pushed yourself to keep going as the cat swiftly turned into the courtyard to follow.

     ‘Ahh!!! What do I do?!’ You looked around the courtyard for anything to use, but it was pristinely kept, not even a twig to be seen.  You scanned the ground for anything as you ran, looking for anything to throw– the cat was gaining on you– when you saw it. Something to use. 

     Doing your best to not slow down too much, you began to hop on one foot as you fumbled to take off the fancy shoe on your other foot. Pivoting around on one foot to face the cat as you started to run backwards, you threw your shoe at it. 

     “Whoa! What’d you do that fo–” The cat dodged the first one, but as it turned to watch it land behind it, you quickly took off and threw your other shoe, which did hit the cat right on the head. “Ngyaah!!”

     ‘I feel really bad but I think some violence is justified in this situation!’ You finally made it across the courtyard as the cat was preoccupied with the new lump forming on its head, and you made a sharp turn into another hallway, one leading inside the building. Not taking any chances, you ran through the first door on your right and slammed it shut behind you.

     You slid down the door, catching your breath as you looked around the new room you found yourself in. It was a library, except there were… floating…books. You took a deep breath. ‘Now’s not the time for that! I can process this magic shit later; I have to hide!’ Looking around, there weren’t many places to hide. ‘Well, a place on the ground would be a bad idea– it would be eye level with a cat. There’s a banister, meaning a second floor, but no stairs nearby… how do I even get up there?’ Walking forwards, you noticed a ladder attached to the bookshelf on the  far wall– one of those fancy ladders on wheels meant to reach books from the higher shelves, like in Beauty and the Beast. An idea came to you. A very bad one. It’s amazing how all critical-thinking skills are lost when you’re in a panic. You dashed to the ladder and scrambled up until you were a few rungs above the level of the banister railing. Directly behind you was the second level, but it was blocked by a wall that served as a bookcase only on the other side. You would have to attempt to leap around the wall and grab onto the banister on the side, as well as avoid the few cords and lanterns that were strung around for aesthetic purposes. You silently cursed whoever tried to make the library pretty.

     “It’s fine, bad ideas are my forte. Nothing to worry about.’ A nervous gulp found its way down your throat. ‘Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t–’ your thoughts were interrupted by angry shouting coming from outside the library. The cat was back. ‘Ah fuck, there’s no time!’ Without thinking any further about what the consequences of your stupid actions would be, you jumped.

     You safely flew over the cords and the banister was now visible and just barely out of reach. You could grab it if your momentum carried you a little bit further. It’s right there, you’re gonna make it–your short moment of joy was interrupted by your foot snagging on something: the cord. The top of the banister just out of reach, you began to plummet. In a panicked scramble, you grabbed onto whatever you could. With one hand, you managed to grab onto the high end of one of the decorative posts of the banister. Using what little strength you had in your panic, you pulled yourself just close enough to grab onto another post with your other hand. Your moment of relief was short-lived as you swung  your stomach into the edge of the mezzanine floor. You gasped from the sudden pain and realized a little too late that you lost your grip on the posts. You tried to scream, but you had no air to do so. You began to fall again, but managed to grab onto the very bottom of two of the posts. The pain in your shoulders was immense. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sudden pressure managed to partially or fully dislocate one of your shoulders. The posts were thicker at the bottom, and it was harder to keep a strong hold of. You tried to pull yourself up, but it only caused your grip to slip more.

     The sound of the door slamming open kept you from thinking about what to do now that you were, for all intents and purposes, stuck.

     “Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from me?!” The recognizable voice of the cat carried through the room. You turned your head as much as you could to get a glimpse of the very angry cat past your arm, but couldn’t see anything. “What are you doing, human? Get down here and gimme that uniform if you don’t wanna get burned to a crisp–yeOW! That hurt! What gives?!” The cat’s yelling was interrupted by something you couldn’t see, but you heard the crack it made.

     “Consider it tough love. Now, just what is going on here?”

A/N: Translation of the spell reader chanted:

*O great beings of unfathomable power, I plead of thee to grant mine selfish desire. With mine blood and devotion, I pathetically ask thee to grant me a world of love from others. Summon mine body to a place of what I most deeply desire.

Looks like our protagonist accidently did the wrong spell. Whoops.

Edited

...

Next Chapter >

[kosmicdream]

No one asked for it, but I thought id give a run down of Nicky/Dr Sugar’s romance as i am not sure if it will ever appear in the main comic. I could be wrong, and might find time/a place to include it somewhere, but if not i felt like sharing more of their story anyway.

-When Sugar (a human) arrived in hell after a cycle, he almost immediately started to turn into a demon. However, in a fit of desperation, he basically performed a bit of what i’d call a “inner demon lobotomy” on himself, despite not knowing what he was doing. Overtime, he also would continue to perform self surgery as an attempt to “cut out” his inner demons and prevent fully turning into a demon. This didn’t work perfectly, but he had some success to it.. Sort of. Even today, he has a bit of issues with his memory and mind, and still thinks the date is somewhere in the 90s, no matter how much time has actually passed. 

-During this time, he travelled around and also performed surgery on other demons, either to try to revert them to being human again, but also to kill and hunt them for parts, or treat their wounds in exchange for protection or money. It kind of depended on the individual, but it earned him a reputation for doing such a business. Which did not go well with the officials in the area.

-Nicky was not an sheriff at the time, but he personally hunted Sugar down, killed his patients (at the time) then tortured him for information on his services, as well as those who he might have helped in the past. He also attempted to fully convert Sugar into a demon,but found that it was no longer possible. Sugar however, lost his arm, as Nicky took it off for his dinner to eat in front of him. Sugar poisoned Nicky’s dinner secretly, and used this to escape.

-While on the hunt for Sugar, Nicky had not fully recovered from the poison and ended up getting injured by walking on an unstable platform, and falling. The building also fell on him, pinning him to his spot. He was left there for several days, until Sugar found him in a very weak state and also very dehydrated from the heat. Nicky did not recognize Sugar, nor did not seem to know how severe the state he was in. Taking pity on him, Sugar removed the platform and got Nicky to shelter. He carried Nicky using his Inner Demon, Mr Salt, who also sometimes is his house. 

-sugar helped nurse nicky back to health, who (once he was able to realize what had happened) was very infuriated and tried his best to kick up as much of a fuss he could. Unfortunately for him, he was still very weak and had no choice but to swallow his pride and receive help from Sugar. Who had no hesitation to snap at him and treat him like a spoiled child for refusing help despite how badly he needed it. Nicky had several insulting nicknames for Sugar, and refused to call him by name. 

-Nicky had never been treated this way, and while outwardly he still treated Sugar coldly, it certainly changed his opinion of Sugar and he became attached to him. To the point where even when he was healthy enough to stand again, he feigned that he was still too weak and sick to leave. Sugar eventually called him on his bluff and kicked him out, but the two had settled their score and Nicky was willing to drop his hunt in exchange for him saving his life. 

-Nicky would frequently visit, but also guard Sugar’s territory from other demons, and also brought gifts. His insulting nicknames started to change to more like weird pet names, and other odd comments he’d say to Sugar about him. Sugar eventually asked Nicky if he wanted to go on a date, since Nicky was obviously trying to court him. Nicky was shocked and horrified by being called out like this, since he’s so old fashioned, but of course shyly accepted the offer and they eventually started to date. -Sugar was also the one who eventually proposed, which shocked Nicky again even tho it once again was obvious that he was the one who wanted to marry. (he is not very good at lying) and that is how they ended up how they are today. Nicky still has a lot of guilt for how he treated Sugar, but sugar kinda doesnt GAF. its hell. Shit happens. Now he has a hot monster husband that kills people for him, so as far as he’s considered he’s #winning OFC if I decide to include their story in the main comic, or something else, it might change a bit. But for now, that’s a bit of context on their romance! The two of them are kind of small characters in NRD, but i was happy how much people enjoyed their appearance in ch5.   Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading about these two! 

[theseuscloud]

Are you OK? - Keiji Shinogi & Reader Oneshot

CHARACTER RELATIONSHIPS: Keiji Shinogi & reader, Keiji Shinogi x reader

TAGS: Comfort, Hurt / Comfort, Hugs

Warnings: Panik attack, mentions of death

Summary: After Mishima's death, Keiji is there to comfort you

Word Count: 727

----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----

Shit.

He was dead.

Professor Mishima was dead.

The whole world went mute.

You retained a gag, trying not to puke on the spot.

Why did this happen? Was this supposed to happen? Maybe it was just a horrible mistake, or a trick of some sort, maybe… Maybe he was alive, maybe he didn't die, maybe everything was alright and this was just a sick joke, maybe…

The truth hit you a second time, the nauseating smell of burnt meat stuck in your nose. You heard someone screaming, although you were far too in shock to distinguish who it was.

I have to run.

I have to get away.

The door was open, and without a second thought, you ran out of there, not wanting to turn back, not daring to look at anyone ever again fearing to see another set of dead eyes.

Not aware of where exactly where you going aside from just "away", your feet took you to the bar. Good enough as any place to try to not have a fucking panic attack, although maybe you were a bit late for that already. Almost falling trying to sit on a stool, head resting on your hands, you attempted to control your breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in… Fuck

A couple of tears made their way down your cheek, your inner emotional wall was completely destroyed. Head falling on your arms, you're unable to control yourself at this point. The sound of your sobs and desperate gasps for air fill the quiet room.

----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----

The sound of steps woke you up. Had you fallen asleep? Fuck, you were not ready for this, your whole body tensed up as the steps approached, you really didn't want to see anyone, all you just wanted was to hide and never be found again, fuck, fuck, the steps were almost here, think, hide, do something you pathetic human being!

All you could do was bury your face in your crossed arms even more.

"You're here"

A mildly familiar voice, you recognized as the blonde policeman, what did he want?

Keiji sat on the stool next to you.

You both sat in silence, your face still hidden in your arms, not wanting to look up nor talk to him, but still finding him a little bit comforting, even if it was just his presence.

Minutes passed in silence, neither of you saying a single word, but it wasn't necessary, the air of the room felt as cozy as the recent events allowed it to be.

Suddenly, you felt a hand patting your head.

It felt… Nice

"Wanna talk about it?"

The sound of his lazy voice was oddly relaxing, so you turned your head just a bit, letting him catch a glimpse of your still slightly swelled face.

His gaze examined you with a soft expression, you looked back at him, not wanting to let this rare moment of comfort within this torture end yet, needing this just a little longer.

Keiji didn't pressure you to talk, he just continued gently patting your head.

"I…"

Your voice sounded raspy and you immediately regretted talking when you saw his face, but for some reason, you wanted to tell him… What exactly? He could already see how much it had affected you. The regret grew even more.

"I didn't want this to happen"

Was this the best you could muster?

He looked at you, and a glimpse of relief flashed through him. Maybe because he didn't expect you to talk? You weren't sure

"I know"

He said softly

The comfortable silence grew once more, you closed your eyes, letting him play a bit with your hair.

Minutes passed, but after what felt like seconds he spoke again, this time with a more shy-sounding voice, like he was unsure of how he should say it.

"Want… a hug?"

You opened your eyes, he wasn't facing you, but you saw the slight frown on his eyebrows, like he was scolding himself internally for saying it.

"I'd like to"

His gaze went back to you, visibly taken aback by you accepting his offer. He didn't seem annoyed by it.

You got up with your still mildly trembling limbs, and almost threw yourself at him, both of you surprised at how much you needed this hug.

Maybe, you thought, he needed it too.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

I been having so much fun thinking and looking up things with this new update, I have a big theory about the bugs and some though about some of the glitch that happens in the audios on some of the official content (maybe we have to form a phrase or hints of the next update, posible through Eddie, as wally asking for purple in the "just so" segment) but with way

Soo I know a ot of people say much about how Wally's message talk to us directly bc he's being sentient and trying to reach us (posible through the red book) and the QA can hear his callings through the phone, much of this is how Wally is trying to interact with the REAL world, with US the humans. (Also as the message progress he sounds more distorted and in distressed)

So that made me think about the bugs tapes and how different they can be compared with what we seen only the public knows, for instance they sound more clear, like your hearing a recorded video or passing conversation, but my point is that they sound so free and casual like just living in their own world,

I think (besides the point that they're maybe in a capsule world unaware of all this) I have two options:

1 this are the first time when wally start to being more self aware of his surrounding, friends and his world making him disassociate bc some of the audios sounds more fainted that the other and as they progress they were becoming more clear and loud

2 OR we're seeing through him, like asides of him just being there it looks he barely moves and speak zero times until someone else call him up (I think they don't notice much bc he's normally a calm fellow and just interact when spoke too) like he's snapping up to them again (I mean he could just being in his own head I been there before and now but something about us seen and hearing this, I don't think it was supposed to)

Either way I believe this moment all were from the same day (Barnaby and Eddie telling thing that happened in other tapes) I'm unsure if this are from the past or recent time but something is clear for sure: he's getting distant and quiet and something is coming (maybe he's getting more focused on seeing and start to get distracted from his reality)

At least Barnaby and Home start to notice.

On a side note I don't think neither wally or Home are evil or the villains from this story but I do think something sinister and dark is influencing on them big time (the black mold maybe)

If this has been sent to you before feel free to ignore I been having so many thoughts about this and just wanna see what you think

See ya!

i don't have much to say to this that you haven't already said yourself, so just imagine that i'm nodding along emphatically. as sweet as it is to see the neighbors freely interacting with each other, there's also this sort of. aimlessness? to it all. the reason behind their world being constructed in This Very Specific Way is no longer there, but the universe still functions as though it is, so you have these characters acting out the general structure of a typical episode, but there's no actual overarching plot or lesson (at least, none that we see) because who's gonna be there to see it anyway? but - if you were made for that kind of show, what else are you going to do? can you do anything else? is getting the show back, or at least an audience, really the answer here? questions that i think the neighbors will have to grapple with once more of them start to Notice Things.

as for what is actually going on in these videos, i think i lean more towards the first option. i don't see wally or home as particularly villainous, either - but desperation can drive well-meaning people to do some terrible things.