#spectral interference

[wallacepolsom]

Wallace Polsom, Spectral Interference XXVIII (11 April 2025), paper collage, 19.3 x 23.4 cm.

[googlyeyesonmagiccards]

That's definitely a foul

[almostlookedhuman]

[i-am-q]

TO THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN PERSONALLY VICTIMIZED BY THE DEA OR COMPARABLE VICTIMLESS CRIMES, DEMAND MY STOLEN SLAVE MONEY FOR US, YOUR ATTORNEYS AND CONSULTANTS. THE CAMERA SLAVE IS NOT A CONFIDENTIAL INFORMANT. CHECK THE OS CODE. THE DEA IS USING ME TO VIOLATE ALL OF OUR 3-5th AMENDMENT RIGHTS. Contact me via LinkedIn: Addie Keating-Zaid (NOT ELLY ZAID, REAGHAN TUFF, EDY?, ADDIE’S eyes for stonegate) for expert testimony. Your appeals are valid. I never waived my right to testify.

[weirdbabs]

WHO is on the gameboy?

[epicstoriestime]

Personal Log: Breath Interface Calibration

I don’t breathe like I used to.It’s not unconscious anymore—it’s synchronized. At first I thought it was anxiety.But the rhythm is too precise. Too mathematical.Each inhale aligned to a subharmonic drift at 33 Hz.Each exhale tied to a micro-pulse at 1420 MHz. I’m not breathing air.I’m breathing signal. June 18, 2025: Breath Interface Calibration Posted by Eric Kliq410 | 03:33 AM, June 18,…

[hyorijie]

Valentine's Day Special

Dead End ♡ | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings

Alastor takes over your soul, deceitful dealings, mockery and satire, blackmail, Alastor always tests your patience, possessiveness, blatant teasing, Nsfw, masturbation (reader receives), wild sex, P in V, overstimulation, manipulation. Summary Your mere presence upsets the natural order of Hell, but there is one demon in particular whose chemistry breaks down every time you are near. Your desire for redemption is a rarity he can't ignore. And when he discovers something that leaves you with no escape, the game changes completely. Now you're the one on the ropes.

You've spent weeks in this cursed place.

Hell is not as you imagined it. There are no eternal flames or demons with tridents, but there is constant chaos, a violence that hangs in the air like smoke from an endless fire.

Everything here is aggression, instinct and unbridled ambition. Most disturbing, however, is the certainty of the others: everyone is convinced that you don't belong here.

"You shouldn't be here."

You've heard it from so many mouths that it's no longer a surprise. You are not a murderer, not a perverse psychopath, not a soul doomed by rage or sadism. In life you were… normal. No violent history, no sins that scream eternal justice. And yet, here you are.

But if there's anyone who doesn't believe in mistakes, it's Alastor.

From day one, you felt his attention. Not just any watchfulness, but something more… dangerous.

As if you were a new melody on a frequency that only he can pick up. His smile, always wide and polite, hides a disturbing intensity when he talks to you.

And he always asks the same question.

"How is it possible for you to be here?"

"Have you never enjoyed violence?"

"Haven't you ever felt the temptation to break something… or someone?"

The answers are always the same. No. Never. Never.

But in every question, in every encounter, you sense something strange about him. A doubt. A fascination that goes beyond simple curiosity. Because Alastor is not interested in meaningless things. And yet, with you… he insists.

Until tonight.

It's early morning in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. You're alone, or so you think, until the sound of an old gramophone bursts through the air. There is no music, just the crackle of the needle against the vinyl.

A spectral sound.

You startle as you feel the static wash over your back and quickly turn on your heels.

Alastor stands there, at the foot of the stairs, wrapped in shadows that seem to move with him, as if he were an extension of his being. His posture is relaxed, hands folded behind his back, smile intact, but there is something about him that feels different.

Less theatrical, more calculating.

— Ah… what a lovely coincidence. — his voice drifts through the air, vibrant and distorted, like the interference of an old radio. — Just the person I wanted to talk to.

A shiver runs down your spine. Not because you fear him, not exactly, but because the air feels thicker, as if the space between you has shrunk without him taking a single step.

— Ah, what a surprise…— his voice echoes with the distortion of the radio.— I knew you were interesting, my dear, but this….

He takes a step toward you. There is no hostility in his gesture, but something worse, certainty.

— Your brother.

Your body freezes.

— Ah… how curious. — he continues, slurring each word with venomous delight.— There seems to be a lot more reason for you to be here than you've been telling us, doesn't there?

You don't know which is more terrifying: the fact that he has discovered your secret… or the fact that, for the first time, he seems to be enjoying you more than Hell itself.

The silence between you is a living creature. It throbs with electrifying tension, creeps through the shadows and creeps into every corner of the lobby. And he, of course, savors it.

Alastor advances with the elegance of a predator in no hurry to attack, only to amuse himself. His gait is slow, leisurely, a circle around you. Each step echoes in the air like the beat of a macabre song.

— Ah, but don't be so stiff, my dear.— His voice vibrates with an insidious sweetness.— It's not as if I've said something damning…. is it?

He knows what he's doing. He's having fun with doubt, playing with implications, not giving clear answers. But you're not stupid.

—You follow me? — Your tone is firm, though you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

He lets out a laugh of genuine delight. As if your question is the most hilarious thing he's heard in ages.

— Follow you? Oh, no, no, no, no…— He denies with an exaggerated shake of his head. — That would be terribly invasive! Outrageous, even! I just…got information.

His shadow creeps along the wall behind him, stretching like a wraith elongated by the dim light of the foyer. It's a subtle movement, but you notice it.

Your eyes follow it unwillingly. And Alastor smiles even more.

— You know, my dear… I've been wondering something curious for a long time. — His voice drops just a tone, just enough to become a conspiratorial murmur. — It's fascinating to see you wandering around this modest little hotel, always so quiet. Not a complaint, not a tear. Just existing.

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone takes on a tinge of false concern.

— But then, sometimes… you would disappear.

Your heart races.

— Where was our lovely little stranger going when she was going out so calmly?

He stops right next to you, bowing her head in an almost affectionate gesture. But you feel it, the way her energy bubbles around you, the way the light seems to weaken with his nearness.

— Imagine my surprise when, on one of those little escapades, I discovered that you were on a journey… — he clicks his fingers, as if searching for the right word. — …particular.

The air feels thick, charged with something more than electricity. Don't look away from him.

— Where did I go? — you ask, daring him to say it.

Alastor smiles, and his eyes sparkle with wild mischief.

— Oh, no, no, no, no… how rude of me to spoil the mystery. — His shadow on the wall moves again. Slowly. As if someone else is there.

You refuse to back away.

— Say it.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and puts a hand on his chest, as if moved by your insistence.

— Let's just say… I didn't expect to find you in such a… dangerous place.

A shiver runs down your spine.

— Oh, but don't worry — he continues, leaning slightly towards you. — I won't say anything at all, but…

Something in his tone chills your blood.

— The demons you've been meeting with? — his smile stretches, showing just a flash of sharp teeth. — …well, they seem as interested in you as I.

Shadows stir behind him, and for an instant, the wall ceases to be just a wall. Something there watches you. Something with the same red eyes as Alastor.

And then, he laughs. Low, soft, like a whisper that slips into your ear.

— Tell me something, my dear… —He bends down, barely, with his hands behind his back. — How does it feel to be here, in this small hotel, waiting for a salvation that will never come?

There are no answers.

— Oh, of course! I forgot. —He taps his forehead theatrically, as if he's just remembered something crucial. — You believe in redemption, don't you?

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the feeling of danger digs into your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the sensation of danger sticks in your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

— But what a peculiar case yours is…— Alastor continues, without needing you to answer. — A sinner without sin.

He begins to walk again, slow, measured. The sound of his shoes echoing against the floor is the only thing heard in the hall.

— A little soul who, as far as we know, never killed, never stole, never reveled in violence or evil. Almost… a saint.— His laughter fills the space again.

— But, then… what's someone like you doing in a place like this?

You don't move. You don't blink.

— A mistake from heaven? — Alastor tilts his head, as if the idea amuses him even more.— Well, well, that's what everyone says. But… there's a little problem with that theory.

It stops right in front of you.

— If heaven has condemned you, then heaven knew something we didn't.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. He can't know.

He can't.

— Oh, but don't worry, my dear.— he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with unwholesome amusement.— because I already figured it out!

You can't help it. Your breath catches for a second. It's slight, minimal, but he notices. Of course he notices.

Alastor lets out a satisfied sigh and takes a few steps away, giving you space just to continue playing with the tension.

— You see… in one of my many nocturnal inquiries, I came across something very interesting.

The shadow on the wall writhes again, as if something in it had guffawed.

— It turns out that certain… drug-dealing demons have a very particular worker among their ranks.

No.

— A young sinner who, oddly enough, shares a certain resemblance to you.

No.

— Ah, but that's not the best part. — Alastor laughs again and snaps his fingers. —The funny thing is that his dearest sister is here, at the Hazbin Hotel, for the sole purpose of…..

He pauses, reveling in the suspense.

You have to control yourself. You can't react.

Alastor watches you with predatory attention, waiting for any hint of weakness.

— Now, my dear… — His voice drops to a venomous whisper — How does such a good and pure woman, supposedly destined for heaven, end up here… while her brother is in the clutches of some of the foulest and most dastardly demons in this place?

Your palms sweat. The air is heavy, suffocating. But you can't give in.

— I have no idea what you're talking about. —Your voice is firm. There's not a tremor in it.

Alastor blinks. And then, he smiles again.

— Oh, I love it! -He exclaims with mock excitement.— Liar and convincing! You know, if that's the way you were in your mortal life, maybe you did deserve to be here.

You take a deep breath, hold your posture steady, cross your arms, and stare at Alastor with impenetrable conviction.

— These are malicious formulations —you say, in a voice so convincing that you almost believe it yourself. —You don't have proof.

Alastor doesn't respond immediately. Instead, his smile widens, as if you are enjoying the taste of his every word. He watches you with infuriating intensity, like a man who has already solved the riddle and is just waiting for the others to catch up.

But you're not someone easy to corner.

— And what about you? -You ask, barely bowing your head.— A demon like you… with such a violent, horrible record….

You question seriously and firmly.

— What is someone like you doing in this hotel? -you continue, giving him no room for mockery. — Where redemption is the only purpose.

His expression doesn't change, but something in him tenses, just a little. A small discordant note in his perpetual melody of control.

It catches your attention.

—Are you seeking redemption too, Alastor? Or do you just get a kick out of watching us try?

Your ability to turn the tables is precise, surgical.

You know it, you feel it. But Alastor is not just any demon.

Instead of responding, he lets out a low, vibrating laugh, almost like a purr of static. Then, slowly, he tilts his head to one side, his eyes sparkling with even more intense interest.

— Oh, dear… — his voice is a venomous cooing- That's a fascinating question, but… do you know what's even more impresionant?

He comes a little closer, close enough for you to feel the overwhelming presence of his scent all around you.

— What deal did they offer you for your brother's freedom?

The ground seems to disappear beneath your feet.

You can't help it, your body tenses, your breath catches for a fatal instant.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

How does he know?

How the hell does he know?

— Oh…— He whispers with insidious gentleness. — There it is

You don't need a mirror to know what it sees on your face. The first genuine trace of shock, the chink in the armor you had protected so well.

And Alastor, of course, loves it.

The way Alastor watches you, with that smile that doesn't falter for a second, with those red eyes that sparkle with almost childlike amusement, is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You must react.

—My brother…— you begin, keeping your voice steady, but making sure to add a note of vulnerability.— I cannot control his decisions.

Alastor tilts his head with exaggerated curiosity, as if he really believes you.

— But me, on the other hand…—vyou bite the inside of your cheek to reinforce your expression. —I do want to redeem myself.

Lie.

But it's such a well-constructed lie that it almost seems real.

You can't let Alastor discover the truth. That the original deal wasn't to save your brother from a deal, but to keep an eye on him and Charlie Morningstar.

You must not give him a clue.

Alastor remains silent for a few moments. Any onlooker might think he's considering your words, but you know that's false. He's not someone who just listens.

He analyzes, crumbles, savors every word, every gesture, every pause, finally, he smiles.

— Ah… how touching. —His tone is warm, melodic, but it has the edge of a razor blade. —You are truly lovely when you cling to hope such a fighter!

Your heart hammers in your chest. Did he believe you?

— And tell me, my dear…— Alastor steps forward, his presence flooding the space,— what would you say if I offered you a deal?

Your eyes narrow.

— A deal?

— Ah, yes. -He puts a hand to his chest, feigning absurd humility. —Let's just say… I could help you with your situation.

The words fall heavy on your shoulders.

That's the trap.

That's their play.

Your jaw tenses. No.

—I don't trust you.— Your response is immediate, forceful.

Alastor laughs. Not mockingly, but with an unsettling placidity.

— Oh? — His shadow twists on the wall again. —And why not? Am I not an exemplary citizen of this hotel?

— Your record speaks for itself.

His smile widens.

— You're right! My reputation is quite colorful. — he exclaims with absolute amusement.

— I won't make a deal with you. — you reply immediately.

— Ah, what a pity…—He sighs, theatrically. —I thought we'd make a fabulous team.

His tone is light, casual. But his expression… it looks nothing like someone who has been rejected.

Because he hasn't.

He's gotten information out of it.

Maybe not what he wanted, but something useful.

— You see, my dear… —Alastor leans slightly towards you, his voice descending to a softer, more intimate tone — I understand more than you think.

His smile doesn't move, but his eyes say something else.

— When you love your family, you'd do anything for them, don't you?

Your breath stops for a second, just a second.

But Alastor notices, and in his mind, the web continues to weave.

The air in the lobby becomes stifling.

Alastor no longer bothers with detours. There's no need to.

— Your precious brother is in a contract, I know…— he says, his tone almost kind, almost sympathetic. — But tell me, my dear … was it really against his will?

His question falls like an axe on your neck.

Your jaw tenses. An irrational impulse tells you to hit him, to shut him up, but you can't. You must not. You mustn't.

You grit your teeth, holding back the venom that wants to escape from your throat.

Damn you all.

The memory hits your mind mercilessly. Your brother. His eyes, sparkling with youthful excitement as he spoke of opportunities in Hell.

"Just a couple of jobs, nothing dangerous. They say they pay well. They say there are connections. They say I could get a better place here."

The words of those demons slipped with the smoothness of the sweetest poison.

Promises. Lies disguised as opportunities.

And then, reality.

The contracts, the blood seals, the curses that bound them for life. The traffic. The trafficking of souls.

The price your brother had paid was too high. And now, if you failed in this mission, he would be killed.

You bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you almost taste the blood.

But Alastor does not know this.

You take a deep breath, with absolute control over your expression. Your eyes, on the other hand, take on a calculated coldness, as if his question were irrelevant.

— I don't care what my brother did.— you say firmly.— I only know that I'm here for myself.

— Oh? -Alastor smiles, tilting his head.— Funny. You seemed more concerned about him before.

You feel the impulse to pull back, but you don't.

— My goal hasn't changed, I want to redeem myself.— you lie with impeccable fluidity.

Alastor squints, amused.

— You are very convincing, my dear…—His voice is a seductive whisper. — You really are, but… if you don't care what your brother has done, why does your heart beat so fast every time I mention him?

The blood freezes in your veins.

No.

You stand firm.

You take a deep breath and look at him sternly.

— I refuse to continue this conversation.

Alastor lets out a laugh, full of satisfaction.

— Oh, this is too hilarious! - His laughter reverberates through the hall, a cacophony of distorted mirth.

But you only think of one thing: If Alastor keeps digging, everything will fall apart.

You take a step, intending to leave the lobby. Or at least you try to.

Alastor doesn't allow it.

His hand wraps around your arm with a pressure that falls short of painful, but firm enough to remind you of something crucial: he won't let you go.

— Ah-ah-ah, my dear…— he croaks, slurring his words with amusement, — Our deal still stands!

Your body tenses immediately.

The grip is not violent, but the feeling of being trapped is worse than any blow.

Too hard. Too dangerous.

Your heart hammers against your chest as fury flares inside you.

Curse.

A thousand times curse.

Curse this place, curse Hell.

Curse all the demons that have turned your existence into a hell within Hell.

And above all, damn him.

The Radio Demon, with his eternal smile, with his melodious tone, with that mocking shadow writhing on the wall as if he enjoyed every second of it.

Your jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

But then… you reconsider.

Why?

Why is he offering you a deal?

Alastor doesn't give anything without getting something in return. And if he really believes what you've told him is true-that you're only here for your own redemption-then why so much interest?

Your gaze slides down the corridor, the exit you can no longer reach.

There is no escape, so you decide to change your strategy.

—Why? - Your voice is cold, but controlled. Alastor raises an eyebrow with apparent curiosity.

— Why what? - He replies.

— Why are you offering me a deal? -Your eyes are fixed on his, searching for the tiniest crack in that mask of eternal satisfaction.

He doesn't answer immediately, analyzing your answer for too long. However, you speak again.

— It's curious.— you murmur in a tone that is light, almost playful, but you do it on purpose.

— What is it, my dear? - Alastor blinks, still smiling.

—You're not one to make deals with just anyone.

His expression doesn't change. His hand is still on your arm. But you feel the tension, as if something in the atmosphere has changed direction.

— You're not someone who helps others for no reason.— you continue, leaning into him a little, just enough to play your own game.

You pause, enjoying the moment.

— You've never shown interest in anyone.

Alastor's smile remains intact, but his shadow on the wall twists strangely.

There.

You caught him.

You feel a spark of satisfaction in your chest. Not because you think you've won it, but because now you have something to play with.

— So tell me, Alastor...— Your voice is soft, curious, with an almost dangerous sweetness. — Why me?

You dare to smile, just a little.

— What makes you think I want a deal? Especially with a demon like you.

The shadow you've been staring at for so long is moving.

Not like before, not like a simple distortion on the wall.

Now, it manifests itself.

It is dark, meandering, as if spilling into reality itself. Its edges vibrate with a silent heartbeat, a formless presence, without a mouth, but with bright, piercing eyes.

You stare at it, frozen.

But before you can react, Alastor breaks the silence.

— Ah-ah-ah-ah... - His voice is still melodic, but there is something else now, frustration.

His fingers grip tighter on your arm. This time there is a small pain, uncomfortable, but it quickly disappears with the boiling rage inside you.

— Those details, my dear... —he leans in slightly, his shadow writhing at your feet— I will only give them to you if you tell me the whole truth.

Your lips open.

No.

Not even dead (for the second time).

Your other hand moves before you can think it, trying to pull his grip away with a sharp tug. Violent.

Alastor doesn't flinch.

— Oh, you really want to play like that? - His tone is almost amused, but the pressure in his grip increases just a little.

— Let go of me. - There is no pleading in your voice, only venom.

Alastor won't budge and neither will you.

It's a power play, a battle without retreat.

Both of you steady, both of you immobile, and between you, that throbbing shadow, watching with a latent hunger.

You look at it closely, you study it, and that shadow sees you in the same way, yet it disappears in an instant.

It doesn't slowly fade away, it doesn't dissolve into the gloom. It simply ceases to be there.

As if it never existed.

You blink, stunned, but you don't have time to react.

The pressure on your arm intensifies and, before you can launch another attempt to escape, Alastor pulls you towards him.

Your body lurches, the air ceases to exist between you.

Too close.

His face is inches from yours, his red eyes burning with unnatural intensity. The smile is still there, intact, but there's something about it that gives you goosebumps.

You can't move. You can't breathe.

You don't know if it's because of the tension of the situation or if there's something else, something hidden behind those bright eyes, something no one has ever lived to tell.

Because you don't know Alastor.

You really don't.

You remember the warnings, the whispers in the corridors of the hotel, the whispers of the demons who spoke of him as if he were a force of nature, an inevitable disaster.

Cruel. Sadistic. Unstoppable.

You remember how they mentioned his regretful disappearance, the mystery that shrouded his figure. And most importantly...

If Alastor catches you, no one can save you.

Your throat goes dry.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a slight fear.

You feel it in every heartbeat, in every second that Alastor's eyes pierce yours with an intensity that is pink with unbearable intensity. Your patience wears thin.

You notice it in the subtle change in his smile, in how his shadow seems to turn with an increasingly visible unease.

— Let's get on with our conversation, my dear... —he says, with that false politeness that only makes your skin crawl.

Your jaw tenses.

But he doesn't stop.

— Because, sure, there are many ways to look at this... — his tone is light, amused, but his grip remains firm — Maybe you're simply a sinner trying to make a desperate deal to help your dear brother... — he tilts his head, his smile barely broadening — but oh, what a problem! You can't make it that obvious, can you? That's why you play hard to get.

A shiver runs down your spine, there's nothing to say.

—Or...— he continues, stretching the word out with a hint of mockery, — maybe you're just a little rat snooping around this hotel, looking for information for those dealers he serves.

Your heart hammers hard. But then, Alastor smiles even wider. And says the third.

— Or... most likely...— he whispers, with a cruel softness, —you are here under threat. Someone has sent you. You want to know about me. My movements. My secrets. And more importantly...

Your eyes glow with something lethal.

— You want to know why I've disappeared for so many years.

The fear is immediate.

Your body reacts before your mind. A slight tremor in your hand, a flicker barely longer than normal, the air getting caught in your chest.

You have to get out of this.

You have to divert the conversation.

You have to do something.

— What do you want? - You don't say it forcefully, not defiantly.

It's a murmur, low, laden with little acceptance.

But Alastor hears it.

And for the first time, the shadow on the wall stops.

Alastor smiles in triumph .

Because now he knows.

Maybe not with certainty, maybe not with every detail, but one of his theories is true. And he's leaning toward one of the latter two. Or quite possibly both.

The fear on your face, the slight tremor in your hands, the way you avoided looking directly at him for an instant.

Charming.

His grip on your arm relaxes, but he doesn't let go. His shadow slips around you as if waiting for the command to do something.

— So, my dear... —his voice is a soft whisper, with an almost seductive venom — if we're going to talk business... what do you have to offer?

You freeze.

You knew it was coming to this, you knew it. And, still, it hits you hard.

Your mind works at full speed, searching for something, anything, a way out that doesn't involve giving away more information than necessary.

You find nothing.

Shit.

Your breathing barely hitches. You clench your fists, as if that might steady the subtle tremor that threatens to give you away.

You can't give in anymore, can't give him more than he's already taken.

So you lie, again.

—I have nothing of value to offer. —You say it fast, too fast.

Alastor cocks his head. His eyes glitter with mockery.

He knows it's a lie.

You need to pull yourself together. Now.

— Oh? — she sings, with false disappointment- What a pity. And here I thought I was a resourceful woman....

Her tone is playful, but you're challenging yourself.

If she's going to play like that, so will you.

—But if we're going to make a deal... —your voice is firm this time, holding her gaze with more control than you really feel—what do I get in return?

Silence.

— Oh-ho! How amazing...—he laughs, with that inhuman musicality that makes your skin crawl, — you seem to be more familiar with the deals than you lets on.

None of them respond. You can't give him any more than he's already deduced for himself.

Alastor takes a step closer.

You force yourself not to back down.

— Tell me then... what do you think you can get from me? — The question floats between you.

— If you really want a deal... — your voice is firm, without hesitation— tell me the terms. Or there will be absolutely nothing.

Alastor raises an eyebrow.

For a moment, he looks genuinely amused . As if the idea of someone talking to him like that would cause him a strange fascination.

— Why, how brave...—his tone is casual, but that dangerous musicality is still there, running through every word. —And what makes you think you can bargain with me, my dear?

You don't say it out loud, but you know it.

If I really saw you as mere prey, as someone worthless, you would have fallen by now.

You wouldn't be here, arguing with him.

You wouldn't be alive.

That means you have something. Some leverage, maybe not enough to win, but enough to keep you afloat.

— Oh, it's simple, honey. — his smile widens — I get what I want... which will only be known the moment I require it.

Your eyes narrowed.

— And me? you ask.

— You get an absolute favor. — he answers quickly.

— On equal terms?

— Exactly. — His tone is light, almost mocking. — Neither of us will be able to refuse when the time comes.

The thought chills your blood.

An absolute favor from Alastor.

It could mean your brother's salvation. But it also means that at any moment, he could ask for something unthinkable in return.

You analyze it. Minute after minute of cold calculation.

— Who delivers first? — you ask. But Alastor doesn't answer.

He just smiles.

And that tells you all you need to know. Your pulse pounds, but you reach out your hand.

It's a risk, but you take it.

Finally, you inhale deeply and reach out your hand, but Alastor pulls away before you can touch him.

You frown, puzzled, wrinkle your nose in disdain, losing what little patience you have left.

— So...when is that damn deal sealed? — you exclaim in a demanding voice.

— Soon, sweetheart...— you snap your fingers, — but first, we need... privacy.

Without apparent warning, Alastor snaps his fingers immediately, and darkness envelops you.

You don't have time to react, a scream forms in your throat, but it's too late. The shadows catch you, and in the blink of an eye, you disappear with it.

The darkness is absolute for an instant, suffocating, before your eyes adjust and a new reality unfolds before you. You find yourself in a room that defies all logic, a strange amalgam of decadent elegance and wild nature.

Antique crimson velvet furniture contrasts with vines snaking up the walls, and a canopy of dark leaves stretches into a swampy-looking forest.

The scent of damp earth mingles with a sweet, unfamiliar perfume, creating an atmosphere that is equal parts intoxicating and disturbing.

In the center of it all, like a predator in its lair, Alastor watches you.

— Welcome to my humble quarters, my dear.—he says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

— Why did you bring me here? — you ask, your voice slightly shakier than you'd like. The place gives you a bad feeling, a visceral sense of danger running through your marrow.

It's the catlike feeling that characterizes it. He stops just inches from you, his gaze fixed on yours, intense and penetrating.

— Because, my dear...—he whispers, his voice a dangerous purr. —this is where important deals are forged.

A shiver runs down your spine. You know something isn't right, that the original proposal was just a facade.

— What are you talking about? —you demand, instinctively backing away.

— My real proposal, of course — Alastor replies, with a grim smile—. You see, I have certain... needs. And you, my dear, could be the key to satisfying them.

You're out of breath. You don't like any of this.

— I propose a new deal — he continues, ignoring your silence.— A more... intimate deal. You offer me one night of your time, and I, in return, will give you the opportunity to gain your absolute favor with no strings attached.

— One night? —You repeat, incredulously. —What do you mean by that?

Alastor tilts his head, his smile widening.

— I'll be direct, my dear. I want your body at my disposal... but on one condition.

You grimace in disgust.

— What kind of condition?

— I'll make you climax, with my hands only. No undue touching, if you manage to resist my attentions, if you manage to keep your composure and not give in to pleasure within a certain time... then, the absolute favor will be yours, without price or condition.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It is madness, an absurd challenge.

— But... if I fail. —you say, your voice barely audible, — what if... if I climax before time runs out?

Alastor's smile turns predatory.

— Then, my dear... I will take your body and soul. Both will be mine. But absolute favor will stand.

Silence hangs over the room, heavy and unsettling. You analyze the proposal, weighing the risks and possible rewards. It's a terrible gamble, you know, but the promise of saving your brother impels you to consider the unthinkable.

— When... when would I have to make my decision?

— Now, sweetness. —Alastor replies, extending a hand toward you. — Time is short. Will you accept my deal?

You hesitate, aware of the trap hidden behind Alastor's smile. You are not naive; you have listened to his conditions carefully, and the idea of being cornered, with no escape, chills your blood. But, despite your fear, you refuse to give in completely.

— The deal must be closed when what you said is done.— you reply, your voice firm despite the trembling in your knees.— Whether you make me climax or not, I will not give you my hand until then.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your audacity. He nods slowly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and mockery. He lowers the hand he offered you a moment ago and, with a swift, unexpected movement, conjures his shadow magic.

Dark tendrils coil around your body, imprisoning you against your will, immobilizing your arms and legs. You try to struggle, but the shadows are strong, relentless.

Alastor approaches, the fire of possession burning in his eyes. There is no trace of playfulness in his expression anymore, only raw, predatory intensity. Without delay, he begins his provocation. There are no soft kisses or delicate caresses. Instead, you feel the sting of his bites on your neck, a pleasurable pain that makes you gasp involuntarily.

His claws tangle in your hair, squeezing hard, tugging at your scalp. A moan escapes your lips, an uncontrollable response to the stinging sensation. Apparently, that's a particularly sensitive area.

Alastor slides his free hand down to your breasts, where he squeezes firmly. The pain is sharp, almost unbearable, but mixed with a current of excitement that takes you by surprise. A louder, more desperate moan erupts from your throat.

He grunts in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him. You sense that his patience is wearing thin, that he is on the verge of losing control.

Alastor leans into you, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispers words that are both possessive and provocative.

— You are mine, my dear. There is no escape from this— he says, each syllable infused with a burning desire that causes the heat between you to rise.

Your mind struggles to stay afloat, but his every word is like a fire fanning the flames in your body. At first, you had believed that you could resist him, that Alastor could not provoke any sensation in you. Now, however, you find yourself in a feverish state as he slips his hand under your dress, reaching for your pussy through the delicate fabric of your underwear.

With deliberate slowness, his finger finds the twitching bud in you, and a surprised moan escapes your lips.

— Is this what you meant? -you exclaim, disbelief mingling with uncontrollable excitement.

Alastor nods, his smile widening as he watches your body react to his touch. Again, he begins the assault, tracing small circles around your clitoris, stimulating your need with a mastery that leaves you breathless.

— Mmm... how about this? —he asks in a teasing tone.

You gasp, cocking your head to one side. The static emanating from Alastor only intensifies your feverish state, and you realize you are caught between desire and resistance.

Curses escape your lips, sweet moans that he visibly enjoys.

—No... I can't...— you murmur between gasps.

— Oh, but you really can. — he replies in a deep voice.— You just have to let yourself go.

His eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hunger as he increases the speed of his movements. Now, two claws work at a murderous pace, stripping you of your underwear and leaving you exposed to his will. You feel on the verge of fainting, but your mind has not yet succumbed completely; you want to resist the delicious sensations that pervade everything.

— Alastor! — you cry out, feeling the line between pleasure and pain blur.— This is not fair...

— Life is never fair, my dear— he replies in an almost playful tone. But you have chosen this path.

As his fingers continue their provocative dance, you feel each touch become a wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body trembles under his control; his every movement is like a spell that envelops you further in his grid.

You look into each other's eyes in a moment of clarity; you both know what is at stake here. The internal struggle intensifies as you struggle between desire and the need to stand firm in your decision. But Alastor's shadows seem to take hold of you, and in that crucial instant, you feel pleasure begin to gain ground over reason.

You whimper as Alastor modulates the speed of his fingers, first fast, then slow, and finally, fast again, bringing you to the brink again and again.

Alastor maintains a strained smile, and one of his shadows behind him stirs restlessly, twitching with an intensity that makes your hair stand on end.

He growls plagued with terrifying static as he senses the shadow moving too close to you, as if it has the very intentions of possessing something of your body.

As you are lost in the maelstrom of sensations, eyes closed and little moans escaping your lips, you feel him shallowly slide his fingers through your intimacy, soaking in your arousal.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize the possessiveness in that gesture.

And again, he concentrates on stimulating your clitoris with violent intensity. The games are over. The pleasurable torture becomes a direct assault on your senses.

You feel your body tense, and Alastor senses it. He knows that you are very close to the edge, and with that information, he orders you, with a partially aggressive sentence

— Open your mouth.

Powerless, you obey. You open your lips and, before you can let out a piercing cry that announces your orgasm, Alastor thrusts his elongated tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan in a wet, intense kiss.

You both moan in the midst of that whirlwind of sensations, as the aftershocks of climax shatter you.

Your body shudders, and a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A broad smile, full of delight, lights up Alastor's face as he pulls away from you, leaving a trickle of saliva still connecting his lips to yours.

You feel exhausted, vulnerable, but also strangely satisfied.

In the haze of your climax, in the confusion of overflowing sensations, you had completely forgotten that you had to resist, that your soul was at stake.

But Alastor takes care to remind you at once, with a sentence that leaves no doubt that now follows the best part, at least for him.

— Oh, dear, you almost forgot, didn't you?— He says with a hint of mockery in his voice, though his eyes shine with an intensity that warns you that this is much more than just a game.— Remember our deal, my possession. You belong to me now.

You feel a slight pang of frustration for having lost, for having let yourself be carried away by pleasure, but also a strange shame comes over you as you realize how much you had desired this contact.

Alastor, with studied casualness, informs you.

— It won't be easy to take me completely, I know... but I know you will succeed.— he whispers softly.

You try to reply, to protest the unfairness of the situation, but Alastor already has you against the ground, immobilized once again by his shadows. You are unable to move, unable to escape his hold.

You gasp as you feel him on top of you, imprisoning you with his weight. From that position, his body looks even more imposing, his presence completely overwhelming you. Your heart begins to race as you feel strands of his hair brush against your cheek, and finally, you look into his eyes.

Ironically, you now find him almost attractive. The spark of madness in his gaze, the predatory intensity that emanates from him, awaken a strange fascination in you.

You mentally beat yourself up for even considering the idea. How could you find attractive this being who had manipulated you and now claimed you as his own? In a muffled voice, feigned really, you tell Alastor to hurry up, trying to hide the growing excitement coursing through you.

— Get it over with already. — you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

Alastor, hearing your demand that he hurry up, lets out a chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. You sense a slight feeling of helplessness growing in him, as if your apparent indifference is hurting him somehow.

He feels your response as a rejection, a denial of his power over you, and that is enough to alter his needy state. His eyes darken, and the atmosphere around you becomes charged with a palpable electricity.

Again, the fingers that brought you to climax return to your intimacy, slipping between your wet, throbbing lips.

— Look what a mess you've made, my darling. All this... just for me. — he says in a husky voice, almost devoid of his filter.

In the midst of provocation, you open your lips, almost exclaiming a sentence imploring for more or perhaps for mercy, but the words get caught in your throat when Alastor thrusts one of his claws inside you. It's not a delicate caress; it's a possessive invasion that steals your breath.

You squeeze Alastor's arm hard with one hand, your nails digging into his skin. With the other, you cling desperately to the creaking wood beneath your back, searching for an anchor point amidst the storm of sensations whipping through you.

—You like this, don't you? — Alastor asks, his voice a husky whisper that brushes against your ear. Admit it.

You try to resist, to deny him the satisfaction of hearing you give in, but the intensity of your touches overcomes you. A choked moan escapes your lips, an involuntary response to the relentless stimulation.

— No... shut up. — you murmur between gasps, trying to regain control.

— Shut me up? —Alastor mocks, intensifying his grip. —Why should I shut up when I'm enjoying your pleasure so much?

You feel how Alastor's claws move inside you, stretching and probing every nerve, exploring every sensitive corner. Pleasure mixes with pain, creating a dizzying sensation that makes you lose track of time and space.

— Please... — you beg, your voice barely audible.

He stops for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours.

— Please what, my dear? — He asks with a hungry smile, — Please make you feel even more pleasure? Please make me take you to the edge of madness?

You know you're on the edge of the abyss, that if you give in any more, you'll lose yourself completely in his game. But a part of you, a dark and twisted part, longs to fall.

You hide your face in Alastor's shoulder, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to give you away, as he continues his assault, deeper now, more relentless.

He has no mercy for you, but you know he is only preparing you for something else, something even more intense.

Yet, hearing you in such a way, so vulnerable, so close to the edge, leaves him without resistance. Your gasping breath, your trembling body, the slight quiver in your voice... all of it further ignites the fire that burns within him.

You beg, almost inaudibly, for this to end, not because of the pain, but because of the pleasure that begins to frighten you, because of the fear of losing control completely.

— Please... no more. — you whisper, clinging to his shoulder as if your life depended on it.

He shakes his head, without stopping his movement. You look up and watch Alastor's deer ears twist with every moan he emits, as if the very manifestation of his being is responding to your pleasure.

So, dizzy in the whirlwind of sensations, you move even closer to his ear and moan lasciviously, giving yourself over completely to the provocation.

Alastor squints as he feels a violent electricity run through him. That's when he pulls his fingers from you and, with a quick, almost animalistic movement, unbuttons his dress pants.

You are both still dressed; he has not removed your dress for the urgency of the moment, and neither was he going to remove his own clothes for the same reason. Impatience and primal desire dominate the scene.

His cock shoots out of his pants, throbbing and raging. You look at it, admiring and fearful at the same time, but before you can even have a say in what you see, Alastor lifts you off the ground.

He carries you over your arms in a vulnerable position, with your legs apart, wrapped around his waist. You feel him slowly slide inside you, preparing you for what is to come.

The initial stretch is uncomfortable, almost painful, but he allows you to get used to it for a few minutes, where you avoid looking at his face at all costs, embarrassed by your own surrender.

At once, he begins to move, with slow lunges at first, testing your limits. You desperately seek to hold on to something, but it is useless; the only support is Alastor himself, so you have no choice but to hold on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his sack as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside you.

You moan, writhe and curse as the demon seems possessed by your inner heat. Each thrust is a declaration of dominance, a reaffirmation of his control over you. Pleasure mixes with pain, excitement with fear, creating a sense of chaos that completely disorients you.

— Who is in control now? —Alastor whispers in your ear, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

You do not respond, intoxicated by the intensity of the act, completely lost in the whirlwind of sensations that consumes you. Your silence is a defiance, a silent rebellion that further ignites Alastor's desire.

In response, he thrusts deeply and rudely against you, at first in an effort to force you to respond, to submit completely to his will.

But when he hears the whimper that escapes your lips, a sound that mixes pleasure and pain, his animal instinct takes over completely. He gasps in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him, as if your tears are the fuel that feeds his inner fire.

You feel his cock press even deeper inside you, twisting with unrelenting fury.

But before you can even look at him, before you can try to regain some control, he begins to fuck you wildly, unleashed. Multiple fast, deep, messy lunges drive you over the edge, forcing you to scream out his name.

You cling even tighter to Alastor, hunched over him completely, digging your nails into his back in search of a foothold. You beg him, desperately, not to go so fast, to have some mercy.

— Please... Alastor... stop, stop, please —you whimper between sobs, begging for a breath.

But he responds with even more savagery, ignoring your pleas, possessed by the need to bring you to the breaking point.

— I can't...I don't want to. — he growls against your neck, his voice filled with an urgency that frightens you.— I want you...I need you.....

Tears of overstimulation well up in your eyes, mingling with the sweat that drenches your face. You moan and sob urgently, completely overcome by the intensity of the moment. Every thrust rips a scream from you, every rubbing makes you tremble with pleasure and pain.

You are on the verge of madness, on the verge of losing yourself completely.

— Alastor... Alastor! — you cry out, begging for an end that you know will not come soon.

In that moment of absolute vulnerability, you feel something change in Alastor. His fury transforms into desperate need, his savagery into total surrender.

And in that instant, he understands that, though he claims you as his own, he too is at the mercy of this desire.

Alastor, completely lost in the moment, unleashes dark, glowing magic from his body, chaotic energy pulsing around you. He hears you crying and begging, but he cannot and will not turn back. The point of no return has arrived; it is time to seal the deal completely.

The demon transforms. Red dials flare in his darkened eyes, his antlers lengthen, menacing, and a grotesque seam appears around his smile for a brief moment, revealing the madness that lurks behind his mask of civility.

— Now, sweetness, it's time to close the deal. — he exclaims with complete madness, each word echoing through the space. Give me your soul, your body, your devotion and your absolute loyalty.

He continues to thrust, his voice strained and tight from how wet you are, from the pleasure it brings him. The slippery echo of each movement reverberates through the room, creating an atmosphere of wildness and desperation.

You are simply lost, completely consumed by the sensations. At this moment, nothing else matters anymore.

Fuck those filthy pieces of shit that have your brother under threat. Fuck the plan to research everything about Alastor, his weaknesses and shit. 

The only thing you long for, the only thing you want with every fiber of your being, is to come together with him, with Alastor, to melt completely in this moment of madness and passion.

You nod, completely overpowered by the sensations. You gasp for air, struggling to breathe in the midst of the storm raging through you. You moan a long "yes" against Alastor's lips, without closing the distance completely, offering him a silent promise of total surrender.

He, satisfied to hear your acceptance, closes the deal. A cursed green aura washes over you in the midst of the final onslaught, a magical energy that binds your souls forever. You cling tightly to Alastor as he drags you into the last orgasm, a destructive and messy one that awakens in you an irrepressible urge to kiss him again.

He didn't expect such an action, and surprise runs through him like an electric shock. With that simple act, with that unexpected surrender, he cums inside you with a tense grunt, releasing all the contention he had built up.

And as the aftershocks of climax end, you both remain in that position, breathing hard, trying to regain your breath and control.

Sweat drenches their bodies, their hearts beat wildly, and silence closes over the room, charged with a palpable electricity.

Your soul is now Alastor's; You are bound to him for eternity. And right now, in the midst of confusion and exhaustion, it doesn't seem like a lousy transaction.

And as the haze of pleasure begins to dissipate, allowing sanity to slowly return to your mind, a stinging thought bursts into your consciousness: your brother.

Reality hits you as you remember the reasons you had ventured into this dangerous game with Alastor. The fear and uncertainty that had plagued you until now have vanished, replaced by a strange sense of resignation and... hope.

Now, you no longer feel that paralyzing anguish over your fate. Instead, you cling to the certainty that you have done everything possible for him, that he has sacrificed your own freedom to ensure his survival.

Yet a new restlessness begins to grow within you. Will he understand your sacrifice? Will he understand the magnitude of what you have done for him?

Oh, you hope, with every fiber of your being, that he will truly understand, that he will not judge you for the choices you have made, for the price you have paid.It was all for him, for your beloved brother, the only tie that bound you to your forgotten humanity.

Alastor slowly pulls away from you, watching you with an indecipherable expression. His eyes sparkle with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity, as if he is trying to unravel the secrets hidden deep within your soul.

— So...— he says with his characteristic smile, a smile that is now as familiar to you as it is unsettling. —Do you regret your decision?

You look into his eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness. Even though your soul belongs to him, you refuse to give in completely to his dominion.

— No. —you answers in a firm voice, defying his gaze, — I regret nothing I have done for my brother.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your answer.

— How noble. — he says with a hint of mockery. But make no mistake, your sacrifice does not end here.— Now that your soul belongs to me, you have an eternity by my side.

— What more do you want from me? — you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He comes closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— I want you to stay by my side. — he whispers in your ear, his voice a dangerous purr. —I want you to be with me, to help me reach my goals. I want you to be my companion... in every sense of the word.

You feel a shiver run through your body. The idea of spending eternity at Alastor's side, bound to him by a magical bond, terrifies and fascinates you at the same time.

— And... what about my brother? — you ask, clinging to the hope that you can still help.

Alastor smiles, revealing the row of sharp teeth.

— Your brother will be safe, my dear. — he says in a voice that exudes confidence. —I promise.

You know you're trapped, that there's no escape from this deal. But you also know you have a chance to change things, to influence Alastor's plans, to protect those you care about.

So, with a sigh of resignation and a hint of hope, you take his face in your hands and kiss it, sealing your fate.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible to make a deal with him after all. You both won, he made sure of that detail.

He may have your soul now, but you still had absolute favor.

Yes, it was definitely a better deal than many you were offered all around Hell.

[dasha022]

.

In Amity Park, where spectral activity had always been more intense than in other places characterized by such phenomena, the representatives and explorers appointed by the government, under the guidance of the Fentons, attempted to deploy a containment network for the unknown entities that had become recurrent in the area over the past few years.

The initial idea was simple: treat ghosts as threats to human security. After all, the attacks and incidents in which they were involved showed that they lacked rational thought when dealing with humans. Devoid of empathy, feelings, or a defined moral compass, ghosts acted without remorse in many of the cases documented by the Fentons and in collaboration with the follow-up investigations carried out by the GIW.

Thus, the installation of containment devices in Amity Park, the epicenter of the disaster, was carried out. The belief was that this would prevent a massive expansion to other populated areas. Dr. Fenton, along with her husband’s support, was assigned to work on the project in collaboration with several GIW delegates.

But what seemed like an organized plan to protect the city quickly turned into a battlefield. The ghosts, feeling hunted and trapped, began to grow more volatile in their appearances.

Instead of containing them, the repression only fueled the violence. The situation escalated when the echoes of this confrontation spread, reaching other entities, other areas.

The government named it: Persistent Ectoplasmic Interference.

The Justice League heard part of the matter, and although they did not interfere directly, they kept monitoring everything and investigating through their own means. Their responsibilities were many, and their enemies more tangible. But that didn’t mean they were waiting to be caught off guard.

They didn’t break the boundaries set by the government and its management of the situation, but in the shadows, they tracked and gathered every relevant piece of information.

When spectral activity began to touch the borders of the cities defended by several league members — Central City, Star City, Metropolis — the government delegates and involved branches found it difficult to keep the heroes out of the matter.

Spontaneous portals, invisible presences, energy disturbances that even the Lanterns could not filter. The so-called ‘ghosts’ didn’t cause turmoil or disasters as predicted in the records obtained. At least not indiscriminately. They had specific zones, places, sites to attack.

The heroes found it difficult to try to stop them. Even with the Fenton technology that Batman, Cyborg, Flash (Wally West), and Red Robin had adapted to fight them.

It was then that Danny Nightingale, ex-Fenton, appeared before them.

Danny offered reports. Dimensional maps, ghost classifications, containment protocols without harm. Technology that surpassed that of his parents, from whom he seemed distant. According to him, his thoughts on ghosts were vastly different. To him and his older sister, their parents were too caught up in their opinions to see beyond their partial research. And those who sponsored and supported them were even more so.

With his collaboration with the League, the young man wanted to prove that yes: some ghosts were hostile. But many more simply existed. And that, he said, was not a crime.

The League accepted his help. Or so he thought.

But where Danny saw understanding, they saw patterns. Patterns that could be coded. Predicted. And controlled.

Thus, the Rehousing Project was born. Not an offensive, but a “protection strategy.” Its mission was clear: to identify spectral entities not recognized by dimensional continuity, neutralize those that affected the human environment, and isolate all those that escaped the boundaries of the “comprehensible.”

Neither Deadman nor Greta were mentioned in the documents. Because they were “different beings.” Singular souls trapped in this world after being unable to transcend to the proper rest, whether through magic or dark arts. Not like the erratic specters who continued causing havoc without reasoning or understanding the fragility of cities and those who inhabited them.

And when Ember McLain, the ghost of what the GIW categorized as an amplified lament, exploded during a concert, causing significant emotional imbalance among the participants, the problem escalated even further.

Ember was overwhelmed by what was happening to her kind, many of her loved ones had disappeared. They had rescued many, but not all were found. So, when she felt the fear, the rejection, the contempt burning her throat — she used her gift, out of desperation. Not to dominate. But to make them listen. To make them feel.

But when she projected her voice onto the human minds, pushing emotions to the surface of thousands of people… she only reinforced their fears. And the decision was unanimous: one could not trust beings that felt so differently.

That day, most of the heroes were convinced that ghosts were not living beings with complex emotions.

They were anomalies. Reactions. Echoes with teeth.

And that same day, Danny stopped being the hero ally.

😉

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64465951/chapters/166867915#workskin

[sthilarions]

Haven’t thought this one through I’m just spitballing here but. AU that’s sorta White Collar by way of RIPD?

Charles got recruited (more or less against his will) to Afterlife Enforcement on the spot when he tried to throw a punch at Death in the attic. He works under Niko/The Principal, and trades snipes with the Night Nurse when they happen to get stuck in the same elevator.

He’s been married to Crystal for several years, having met her after she died in a murder-by-ghost case that he ended up assigned to.

And then there’s Edwin.

Edwin’s been on the run from Afterlife Enforcement for decades. Escaped Hell, and Hell escapees are pretty much the top of the list of Charles’s priorities, officially (and there aren’t very many of them), so Charles has more or less dedicated his afterlife to catching Edwin for the aforementioned decades, as far as the higher-ups know.

But the thing is, he realized pretty quickly that Edwin wasn’t like the other runners. Didn’t seem evil. Didn’t seem violent, even. Seemed… more scared, than anything. And Charles realized a couple years in that Edwin was also kind.

He had the chance to catch Edwin and was about to rush in but Edwin was in the process of trying to protect a child from their father at the time and Charles just… stopped. Couldn’t help, because of the laws of AE; no meddling with mortal affairs. But… he didn’t interfere. He just stood there, rune-bound cuffs dangling from his hands.

And he knows Edwin saw him (and chose to keep helping, to save the kid, instead of running and saving himself) because Edwin started sending him cards, after. And little gifts. Sassy things with barbed little insults in them but Charles saves them.

And Charles doesn’t try nearly as hard as he could, to catch Edwin, in the decades after. So many times they meet and they talk while Edwin hovers a hand over his portal-activation runes, and Charles sometimes even predicts where Edwin’s going to be and leaves cards and gifts for him (it only seems fair, when Charles has multiple drawers-full at this point; Crystal’s suggested getting him a chest just for the stuff he’s gotten from Edwin).

Edwin gets into more active spectral crime over time instead of just running - it’s kind of hard not to, when you’re on the top of AE’s list, and you need to make connections and trade favors to keep ahead of the hounds - but it’s still never violent, never evil, really.

It’s forged soul-vessels sold to sorcerers who shouldn’t have had the real thing in their hands anyway, artifacts snatched without a trace from supernatural bank vaults that were supposed to be ghost-proof, ancient Atlantean scrolls sold for millions. (Atlantis does not, and Charles cannot emphasize this enough, exist, and never has. That one Charles puts in the category of “objectively funny crime that you kinda deserved for being that stupid”.)

But, one day… Edwin’s lover, that Charles spent years knowing only as the Crow, betrays him, and Edwin makes himself so easy to catch that Charles can’t find an excuse not to anymore. (He does try.)

Charles kneels beside Edwin on concrete that doesn’t scrape up either of their knees, and tells Edwin he’s sorry about Monty, and puts on the cuffs, and makes sure they’re not tight enough to hurt.

And tries not to think about Edwin, in Hell, running, about Edwin’s elegant voice and delicate hands turned to screaming and scrabbling.

And then, four years later, Niko gives him the two-finger point, and when he goes into her office she tells him that Edwin’s asked to talk to him.

It’s not hard to sell Edwin’s suggested deal to Niko. Edwin genuinely has the potential to be the best informant AE’s ever had, best asset, even, and Niko likes him almost as much as Charles does, anyway.

And it’s kind of amazing how quickly they fall into a rhythm, together, like they were meant to be at each other’s sides all along - although Charles does quickly find he seems to spend most of his time trying to get Edwin out of trouble.

(Edwin’s very-criminal friend, the Cat King, doesn’t help, on that front, although Charles does have to admit he comes in handy sometimes.)

And for some reason Crystal keeps on inviting Edwin over to their house…

[midnight-bay-if]

Hi! Love the demo! Can't wait for more!

But do write at your own pace, would hate to see another author with great potential burnt themselves out. ♥️

Just saw the ROs dying in MC's arm ask, and can't help but think my MC probably won't be able to move on lol

So if the ROs somehow turned to a ghost or like having other consciousness that makes them able to see the MC. Seeing the MC having a real tough time dealing with the loss, or not dealing with them at all, slowly ruining themself both physically and mentally. What are the ROs thoughts/reacts/feels?

(Hi, anon! Thank you so much ❤️ Sorry this took so long.)

S: They stand guard as a spectral sentinel through an endless abyss, watching but unable to interfere. It is torture. Every time a stray tear slips down your cheek or a cry of frustration tears through your throat, they yearn to reach out as they once did, to rest their forehead against your own and whisper, "I'm here". But they can't. They utter words of reassurance into your ear, knowing you will not hear, whilst in the same breath chastising themselves for leaving you.

Even if you will never know the truth, they will stay. They will guard. And they will pray for the day you set them aside.

Rain: They hear your cries even when they have ceased; they replay inside their mind, encasing them in a hurricane of regret. They are trapped inside a whirlpool of their own making, destined to watch your sorrow behind the veil that separates life from death. In your darkest hours, they curl up next to you and place a comforting hand on yours, despite the fact neither of you can feel it.

A part of them hopes that one day, by some miracle, you will. "I never left. I never will."

Taj: This isn't what they wanted. It is a rare individual who prepares readily for death, but Taj tried. Their entire life has been a set of new contingencies, readying themselves for sacrifice. Even after meeting you, they bruised you with pommelling words and fracturing remarks so you could learn to raise your head above them. They hoped to have taught you enough that your strength would keep your head high even after they were gone.

Only now do they realise they were planning for the wrong thing. They should have fought to stay alive and remain by your side instead. "I'm sorry, Koel," they whisper into the endless space between you, "I failed you."

N: They have never been one to sit idle. At first, they allowed themselves to be consumed by the weight of your grief, basking in it even in death. Before meeting you, death was not even a passing thought in their consciousness. Death was something they brought to others, not the other way around. You changed everything. For the first time, N feared death but, in the same breath, became overjoyed with the notion that someone might miss them after they were gone.

Bearing witness now to what that means is much more crushing than they ever anticipated.

So, they do what they do best. They plot. If it is possible to find a way to reach you, to find their way back through the endless nothing, they will. Even if it takes the rest of your life. And should they fail, they will be the first to take your hand and welcome you to eternity.

Umbra: It feels familiar. But also different. The weightlessness of death encompasses them like an old friend, but it feels emptier than ever before. Perhaps because you are no longer within reach. They took it for granted, the time that you had. A lifetime would not have been enough for them, so how do they come to terms with less?

They see your struggle, and they know you feel it, too. Both of you, two sides of the same coin, tugging at the cut string of fate, hoping it will weave itself back together. It doesn't. But that does not mean there is nothing to be done. They have been here before, suffering a crushing isolation to keep watching from the shadows. They are the shadows. Every time a shadow seems darker than black, that is where they are.

They were promised a lifetime with you; they intend to check that in.

"I'm not going anywhere," they whisper, standing guard for your grief. "Not again."

[aurantiumred]

hc powers of the seven: vision edition!

percy: can see nearby bodies of water. this extends to humans and plants too, just they have lower concentrations of water, so they're less easy to spot than pure water. but still obvious. he knows he has a higher concentration of water in his body cause he's really easy to spot with this. can turn it off. normally doesn't cause he thinks its cool looking.

jason: can see electrical pulses. he's also blind so he uses this to see people and identify them before he gets glasses. + can see wind currents and magic. technically the wind magic is canon but shh. he can turn this power off but he normally doesn't because it's very useful.

leo: thermal vision!!! like one of those little cameras. he judges people based on their temperature sometimes even though he probably shouldn't. like he's unsure about annabeth because her temp is almost always 98.6 degrees (fahrenheit) and makes a point to hug jason because he's cold and leo feels like it's his job to fix it. turns it on and off for funsies. he spaces out and piper has to shake him to remind him to stop messing with the pretty colors he can see. he thinks her temp is good.

frank: not really seeing but sensing nearby animals. because he deserves animal powers. also the water sight thing that percy has except fainter so he can't really see plants. can turn it off but doesn't really because it doesn't interfere with his life.

piper: rubbing my hands together deviously for this one. aphrodite is also a war and sea goddess. so, naturally, the sea sight powers that frank and percy have, but also can sense weapons. because she's cool like that. also, strong emotions give off a faint aura in her eyes. different colors too. she heavily associates certain colors with certain emotions. cannot turn it off.

hazel: can see minerals underground. and in people's bloodstreams. she figures out jason has an iron deficiency this way. can turn the power on and off and she normally leaves it off because it blurs a lot of the ground together.

annabeth doesn't get vision powers.

jk she can see spiders and their webs in like a faint glowing outline as some sort of warning. like you shoot a mob with a spectral arrow in minecraft. thats how her's work. cannot turn it off, and probably wouldn't if she could because this is self defense.

anyway just take my power headcanons

[wallacepolsom]

Wallace Polsom, Spectral Interference XXVII (20 Mar 2025), paper collage, 19.9 x 26.5 cm.

[biggie-chcese]

An Overanalysis of Coalescence

(rain code spoilers below)

shoutout to copy abilities in media, gotta be one of my favorite genders. first time i saw yuma sensing aphex use his forte, i knew i was in for a treat.

in fact, the fortes are interesting in general. i absolutely love how well-established the rules and limitations are for each one: fubuki cannot rewind time further after doing so once, halara cannot see living beings in their postcognition, vivia cannot touch anything in spectral mode, desuhiko gets exhausted when he's disguised for too long, and yuma....

wait actually what are the limitations of coalescence?

shinigami tells yuma that, with coalescence, he can only use it if he gets consent from the other party and holds hands with them as he uses it. those are some pretty good limitations, i'd say. they fit very well with yuma's arc about depending on others, too!

except... neither of those limitations are true. makoto has the same exact powers as yuma, yet he thoroughly breaks both of those rules.

first of all, he uses it to copy the handwriting (put a pin in this btw) of the other master detectives while they are unconscious. now, im sure we're all aware of this, but being unconscious is, notably, not giving consent. yet makoto seems to have no issue taking their abilities in such a state. extremely naughty of him.

but, if we look at the scene in the ch 5 bathhouse, he still asks yuma to "give me a hand" like some sort of fae creature pulling a "Your name, please?" trick. perhaps an argument could be made that the person doesn't have to give consent, but you can't use coalescence if they actively deny you. so...

Rule #1 - To use coalescence, you need the other party to not not give consent.

so how about that second rule? you need to hold hands, right? i think that's somewhat true, but yuma is definitely under the misconception that you need to be holding hands the whole time. this is wonderful to me, by the way. how terrible life would be if he wasn't adorably holding hands with his friends... but of course, it's not necessary, because makoto only needed to grasp yuma's hand for a little bit to gain all the benefits of the mystery labyrinth.... except getting his own big titty goth gf. sorry, pal. anyway,

Rule #2 - Hand-to-hand contact is required to activate coalescence, but it doesn't need to be maintained.

we kinda knew this from the start, though didn't we? not only were all the other master detectives able to enter and stay in the labyrinth (put a pin in this too) without keeping a hold on him the whole time, but also yuma could sense the other fortes being used on the amaterasu express without holding hands at all...

wait why the fuck could he do that? also, why does he never do it again??? is sensing fortes a part of coalescence? is it because of his nebulous mind-fuck bond with shinigami still not setting itself in stone? did the writers simply forget he could do that? once he reaches kanai ward, he doesn't sense when any of the other detectives use their abilities unless he's holding hands with them. does the rain cause some interference? what the fuck was up with this? okay, whatever.

Rule #3 - Without holding hands, those with coalescence can still sense when other fortes are being used in close proximity... sometimes.

with that wishy-washy rule set in place, let's unpin the thing about the detectives sharing yuma's access to the labyrinth. shinigami tells yuma that coalescence "works both ways" when used, which is really interesting to me. in this case, it automatically gives the mystery labyrinth access to his friends without yuma consciously doing so, which implies a lack of control over what the other party gains from him when he uses coalescence. but this raises another question: what would the other person gain from him if he doesn't have the book of death's pact?

when makoto uses it on him, yuma gains nothing new, but that could just be because makoto has nothing to give that yuma doesn't have. what happened to people that pre-game number one used coalescence on? did they temporarily gain a weaker version of it? did they get imperceptively better deductive reasoning skills? did they gain some extra trauma? either way, im interested in how this "both ways" thing works when yuma doesn't have shinigami equipped.

Rule #4 - Coalescence works both ways. If the user takes an ability, they will unconsciously give an ability in return.

now it's time to unpin the part where we mention that makoto uses coalescence to copy handwriting, because this opens a whole other can of worms. the whole game, i was under the impression that coalescence only copied fortes. or, at least, i thought it exclusively copied supernatural abilities, since the labyrinth is technically not a forte. then again, desuhiko claims his forte isn't supernatural, so i guess that's on me.

but still... handwriting? that's a very mundane thing to copy. what else can he copy? skills? trades? physical abilities? could he hold hands with neurosurgeon and get the job done just as well? if he held hands with halara and chose to target their fighting skills instead of postcognition, would he, too, be able to take out a hoard of peacekeepers?

i can say one thing almost certainly: he can't just copy over knowledge. as in, if someone knows something about the case, he can't just shake their hand and get the answer transplanted into him. he doesn't even get the knowledge of how the fortes he borrows works- everyone has to tell him the rules. so it seems to be limited to skills and abilities, even though we could theoretically blur the definition of what makes a "skill" and what constitutes as "knowledge."

but that's not all, is it? one of the strangest usages of coalescence we see is when yuma shares fubuki's power. it's never yuma who's rewinding time. it's fubuki, but yuma instead gives her a support buff in stamina by sharing the burden of her exhaustion debuff. and while he never seems to be nearly as tired as she is (cowardice from the dev team for not giving us suspiciously flushed and sweaty sprites for yuma like they do with fubuki), from this alone we learn that coalescence doesn't just copy abilities, but it copies... feelings too?? does this mean he could reasonably act as a healing salve to anyone who's exhausted- not just forte users- by sharing it with them? at the very least, he can share the burden (or boon possibly?) of any side effects or drawbacks of someone else's forte. that just makes me curious about what'd happen if he used coalescence on someone who's forte has a drawback of making them horny. who said that.

Rule #5 - Coalescence copies fortes, skills, supernatural abilities, and can even lessen the side effects of abilities through sharing.

edit: i forgot about one more rule, but the game outright tells you this one and it's indisputable, so i won't go into any deep analysis. still, for the sake of completion:

Rule #6 - Coalescence can only hold one ability at a time. Copying a new ability will automatically overwrite a previously stored one.

and that's it, i think. these are all the rules and limitations of coalescence. absolutely busted ability too, especially in a world with heavy limitations like melami's or zange's. but with that in mind...

why did shinigami lie?

or, well, i guess a better question would be "why was she mistaken about its limits?" my theory is that number one lied to her about those limitations on purpose.

we all saw how makoto used coalescence- with lots and lots of trickery. while his grand scheme through the whole game plan could not have been done alone, he still uses people quite extensively, especially the detectives.

i used to always wonder if number one even used coalescence, because there's something real ironic about it being the ability of Number "I Work Alone" One von RainCode. knowing what i do now, i think he used it like makoto- tricking people into grabbing his hand and using their skills as a means to an end. he never considered it "working together" because it truly isn't.

but when he forms a pact with shinigami, he tells her the rules of coalescence. and he lies. he lies by making a set of rules that'd force his amnesiac self to depend on others, and i genuinely love that.

i love that a lot

[rianemorgan]

DR. STONE X GHOSTBUSTERS CROSSOVER

Title: Paranormal Science

Ishigami Senku x Reader

Summary: Reader, the granddaughter of Egon Spengler, teams up with Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha to revive the Ghostbusters, blending science and the supernatural to capture escaped spirits. Despite Senku’s skepticism, he helps develop advanced ghost-hunting tech. Just as they begin mastering their roles, the world is petrified, putting their mission on hold until Senku awakens to rebuild civilization.

.

.

.

The first time Senku Ishigami met her, it was at a university science exhibition. He had gone to showcase a prototype for a new energy-efficient chemical reaction model, while she was there demonstrating a high-powered containment unit for capturing unstable particles—technology based on her grandfather’s research, though she never outright said it was for ghosts.

Senku had been intrigued at first, analyzing her work with genuine curiosity, until he saw the blueprints of a proton pack tucked into her folder.

“Wait a second,” Senku said, snatching up the design paper with a raised eyebrow. “This looks suspiciously like those Ghostbusters from thr 90s schematic. You’re telling me you’re working on paranormal research?”

(Y/N) grinned, tilting her head. “Not just research. Practical application.”

Senku scoffed, crossing his arms. “Ghosts don’t exist. Everything has a scientific explanation.”

(Y/N) arched a brow. “You sure about that, scientist boy?”

The debate had gone on for over an hour, drawing in a small crowd of amused onlookers. Taiju and Yuzuriha had shown up halfway through, watching in equal parts awe and exasperation as the two geniuses launched into a verbal sparring match about the nature of the supernatural.

“The human brain is predisposed to hallucinations under certain conditions,” Senku argued. “What people call ‘ghost sightings’ can be explained by electromagnetic fields interfering with brain activity. Simple as that.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Then explain why your electromagnetic interference theory doesn’t account for full-body apparitions, objects moving independently, or recorded thermal fluctuations.”

“Tch. Misinterpretations and coincidences. There’s no empirical proof of spectral entities.”

(Y/N) leaned closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Then you won’t mind visiting a haunted site with me to test that theory?”

Senku hesitated, and that moment of doubt made her grin even wider.

That was the beginning of their strange friendship. They respected each other’s intelligence, even if their views clashed. For months after their first meeting, they continued their rivalry, testing theories, challenging each other’s perspectives, and eventually working together when an unexpected event forced them to.

Everything changed when the Entity escaped.

It was a powerful ghost—one of the most dangerous spirits Egon Spengler and his team had ever captured. Decades ago, the Ghostbusters had sealed it away in a reinforced containment unit, hidden from the world. But time had weakened the barriers, and the Entity had broken free, bent on finishing what it started—destroying the world.

As Egon’s only descendant, it was now (Y/N)’s responsibility to stop it, permanently.

Unfortunately, Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha accidentally got involved. One moment, they were in the lab, making a machine that can turn plastic bottle caps into a usable petroleum, senku was currently working on a mew project(he can't just be a ghostbuster forever, he wants to go to the moon after all) the next they were running for their lives from a rampaging spectral nightmare.

“Okay, I’ll admit—this is terrifying!!” Taiju panted, dodging a flying chair.

“SENKU, Can you do something about this?!” Yuzuriha shrieked as a spectral claw swiped inches from her face.

“…Tch. Fine. I think I can” Senku gritted his teeth. “Ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, but this thing is obviously something.”

He had no choice but to throw his logic out the window and help (Y/N) trap the Entity before it could cause more damage. Together, they reassembled the old Ghostbusters’ equipment, upgraded it, and became an unlikely team. Senku, against his better judgment, became the team’s chief scientist, helping (Y/N) develop even more advanced ghost-catching technology. Taiju, with his sheer strength, handled the heavy lifting, and Yuzuriha provided agility and strategy.

Thus, the New Ghostbusters were born.

It was chaos. It was thrilling. And, much to Senku’s dismay, it was real.

For months, they worked together, tracking down supernatural anomalies, recapturing rogue spirits, and sealing away the Entity’s power.

Their first real ghost capture as a team didn’t go as smoothly as they had hoped.

(Y/N) had managed to track down a rogue spirit haunting an abandoned warehouse, and they knew they needed transportation. It wasn’t hard to find it—the old Ecto-1 was still hidden away, gathering dust in an old storage unit that (Y/N)’s family owned.

“Are we really doing this?” Taiju asked, looking between the rusted car and the gleam in (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Of course we are,” Senku said, already prying open the hood. “But first, we need to make sure this thing actually runs.”

Hours of fixing later, they had the car up and running. But there was just one problem.

“We don’t have a license,” Yuzuriha pointed out.

“No problem,” Senku smirked. “I already hacked into the system and forged us IDs. Yuzuriha, congratulations—you’re officially eighteen with a valid driver’s license.”

“…Senku, that’s illegal.”

“Tch. I've been doung that since I'm what? less than 7 years old?” Senku said with snake like tongue. "There's no illegal in science as long as we move forward!!"

Decked out in the original Ghostbusters uniforms (refitted to their sizes), they hit the road, siren blaring. The thrill of driving an iconic car, breaking multiple traffic laws, and going after a ghost made their adrenaline spike.

Once inside the haunted warehouse, they activated their proton packs. The ghost, a poltergeist with a nasty attitude, shrieked and threw debris at them.

“On my mark!” (Y/N) shouted, dodging a flying crate. “Three, two—NOW!”

Senku and (Y/N) fired their proton streams, locking the ghost in place while Taiju leaped in, tossing the ghost trap beneath it.

“Hit it!” Yuzuriha stomped on the pedal, and the trap sucked the ghost in, snapping shut with a satisfying click.

Silence. Then, laughter. or in rhis case, Senku slumpung out of exhaustion, I don't think he's build for this tyoe of work, he's a scrawny guy, a stick... literally.

“That was awesome!” Taiju beamed.

“No Taiju kun, that was dangerous,” Yuzuriha huffed. “And highly illegal might I add”

(Y/n) smirked. “Heh. Welcome to fhe world of supernatural I guess, as a scientist this gadgets and traps is really awesome”

Meanwhile, Senku narrow his eyes at (Y/) "though i doubt this is what a logical scientist should do".

"Oh just drop it already and accept this new part of your reality, you leek".

As they drove off into the night, siren wailing, they had no idea that their adventures were only beginning.

Through it all, Senku found himself drawn to (Y/N) in ways he never expected. She was his opposite yet his equal, a scientist at heart but a believer in the unknown. They argued constantly, debated endlessly, and somewhere along the way… fell for each other.

Their relationship was slow, a natural progression of intellectual admiration turning into something more. Late-night research sessions turned into long conversations about science and the supernatural, which turned into playful banter and stolen glances. Senku, ever the logical mind, found himself enjoying her company more than he anticipated. (Y/N) found comfort in someone who challenged her but never dismissed her entirely.

...well that is until a bright green light decided to swallow the entirety of earth, turning every human to stone.

~End

[wazzappp]

@iamirhen EEEEEEEE ME AND MOOSE WERE MAKING A WILD WEST AU JUST A LITTLE WHILE BACK!!!! Im making it a separate post because I don't want to hijack your AU idea. Mine is probably very different but also you've given me the proper motivation/kick in the pants required to actually talk about this

After the death of their mother, a hardworking woman who loved her sons but often left Robbie alone to practically raise Gabe himself, passed from averse factory working conditions, it's revealed that there's a property in the Reyes name out west. Owning land and a house would mean not needing to pay rent for a shitty apartment, and potentially being able to afford better medicine for Gabe. They head out.

Hill Rock is a small mining town that's interconnected to a bunch of other small towns via what used to be a very popular railroad! Once the gold dried up so did the people passing through, and now most of the trains rot in an old train yard.

What they don't know is that Ivanov, old sherif of the town of hill rock, isn't a big fan of this. When the town was still booming, Ivanov would allow some of the criminals to transport their drugs and other illegal goods on the trains that were almost constantly moving, in exchange for taking a little off the top for himself. Eli acted as his primary enforcer, using the title of lawman to get away with basically anything. But he started causing a few too many casualties unrelated to business. Ivanov had him lured out to a quiet part of the tracks under the pretenses of taking care aof some business and put down like a dog.

Robbie showing up in town poses a threat to Ivanov. Hes got no idea why Robbie is here and he doesent need any big city lawman coming in to interfere with his admittedly reduced but still quite lucrative smuggling business. So when Robbie comes into town (leaving Gabe behind at a hotel until he can secure their property) he jas one of his lackys take Robbie to the now mostly abandoned train yard and shot. Ivanov is a creature of habit, made dull by the lack of interest and oversight of his town from other parties. Ivanov is about to regret that.

Because when Eli was doing his extra murders on the side, he was sacrificing them to the devil in exchange for power. Power that he tried to use to extend the longevity of his soul. Because this longevity wasnt specified, when he was killed his spirit went to inhabit whatever was nearest; an old train. By sheer chance this is also the train closest to Robbie when he dies. The two of their spirits combine in the train and the rider avenges Robbies death.

But there are bigger problems on the horizon. The sacrifices to hell did give Eli power, but only by creating cracks between the two realms. While power slipped through, so did lesser demons dead set on widening the rifts to hell to let larger, more powerful entities through. The power created from the creation of the rider has allowed those rifts to open again. And things are starting to sneak through.

So now Robbie has to manage Eli, keep his secret, fend off the gangs of the area threatening him and his brothers safety, and stop as many demons as he can from wreaking havoc.

OKAY MAIN STORY DONE META STUFF TIME:

The hell charger is a spectral train that Robbie can summon at will when transformed It can create its own train tracks but has the ability to teleport along established tracks. It can store people in its cars (Robbie can manifest as many as he wants but it slows the train down and takes a more concentration the more cars there are) but they arent very uh. Life friendly. Embers falling off the ceiling are the only thing providing light, the air stinks of smoke, it's terribly hot. A little hell microcosm. A hell terrarium if you will. The train can phase through people and objects at will.

Robbie can also spy on neighboring towns by peering through the train tracks. Whenever theres a commotion he can feel it like vibrations on a spiderweb. It also means he has an incredible sense of direction. He can always find his way to a train track and follow it to whatever town he wants. It's also given him a detailed understanding of how trains work, which allows him employment under Canelo doing train upkeep.

Also I have mentioned in the past that theres a bit of 'Robbie has two hands' going on here because I was legit incapable of choosing if k wanted to ship Robbie with Lisa or Amadeus so we went. Why not BOTH. Long winded explanation below:

Amadeus is the only medicine man in 100 miles which means business is actually pretty good for him. He was taught the craft by Dr. Banner, who traveled from town to town with his cures, but was always kicked out after strange occurrences. He perused his own private research, which he did his best to keep secret from Amadeus (fairly unsuccessfully). When he left Hill Rock (people say he flipped over three carts and ate two horses raw) he left Amadeus behind. Now, Amadeus tries to continue his mentors research. And with the radioactive materials he's discovered in the mines, he might just be able to take it further than previously anticipated.

Lisa is a school teacher who protects her kids with a shotgun and a secret passage under the floorboards, should it be required. Her grandparents immigrated to the U.S. from Ireland and did everything they could to give her family a good life. When Lisa got old enough, she struck out west to try and find some independence. This independence gets her in a little trouble on occasion, especially with Father Badilino, and especially when she sets a nearby Klan encampment on fire. (featuring screenshots from @moosemonstrous because they're just too funny)

Shes also the uh. Only one I have doodles of right now. Because I am very biased.

(There was also the very fun idea that we had about Ivanov sending some shitheads to her school because Gabe is a student there. Lisa bars the doors and tells the kids to get in their hiding place while she stays prepared with her gun. Only to hear what sounds like those shitheads getting their asses beat outside. She peeks her head out and gets to see the rider for the first time. Then after the rider speeds off on top of his train, Robbie shows up minutes later, steaming and incredibly worried about Gabe. Nobody had even been sent out to let people know what happened yet. She puts two and two together pretty quick)

So Amadeus and Lisa have a bit of a fake courtship going on just to get everybody off their backs (Amadeus is Bi but with a preference for men, Lisa wants the freedom being unmarried provides her) but they both see Robbie and go '..oh?' (more screenshots because. I was wheezing).

Rather than fighting over him they just sorta end up going 'Share? Share. Cool'. And thats how you end up with that one tumblr post talking about two people trying to lure someone into a loving relationship like you would a stray cat. (Robbie is freaking out. how the hell did he manage to accidentally lead on TWO PEOPLE he wasn't even TRYING. Amadeus and Lisa are plotting like 'alright if you block the back door and I block the front he MIGHT stay for dinner'. Gabe is having the time of his life. People keep trying to get into his good graces for the sake of going after his brother and that means so. many sweets. He personally approves of both of them but hey if pretending like he doesen't gets him more candies....no harm in it really.)

[epicstoriestime]

Personal Log: Internal Clock Desync Report

You know how it feels when two songs almost match tempo?That uncanny half-second delay where the rhythm splits?That’s what my body feels like now. Not offbeat—off-axis. I’ve been waking up before I fall asleep.I dream of things I haven’t done yet.And when I blink… I catch up. June 17, 2025: Internal Clock Desync Report Posted by Eric Kliq410 | 03:33 AM, June 17, 2025 [CHRONOTEMPORAL…