#the black phone & the lovely bones crossover

[akariamai]

The First

Summary: (The Lovely Bones x The Black Phone crossover) Susie Salmon was the first victim

Pairing: N/A

Word Count: 799

The only thing left behind from Susie Salmon’s abduction was the ugly hand-knitted wool hat she wore that day. He would take her favorite bracelet and string it up near the door that led to her prison. A soda and a plate of scrambled eggs were all she ate for the duration of her capture. Sleep was almost nonexistent as she feared of a visit as she slept. It frightened her of the possibilities to her end. Her last moments were spent in pain and agony. Her wounds were pouring red. It took a while for her killer, the Grabber as the papers have begun to refer to him, to scrub away all of her blood from the cold basement floor.

Her prison became the prison of others. Her killer figured out his type of young boys and she was just a guinea pig to see if his wildest dreams could become reality. Susie called each and every boy but none could hear her calls. Her killer’s killing spree was accelerating at a faster rate. She was kept the longest then it steadily declined from there. He preferred fighters over meek children like her. While she soothed his itch to kill, her terrified state was not much of interest. He’d leave the door to the basement door open and simply waited for them to gather their courage and walk up the stairs. He held a belt, a leather belt, and beat them into a bloody pulp. It didn’t matter if they became unconscious, he whipped them continuously until he deemed their punishment was sufficient enough. When he was done, he would drag them back into the horrid basement and prepare for his final strike.

Finney Blake was a boy she would often see walking home from school. They’d live in the same neighborhood but never spoke to one another. He was a pitcher for the baseball team and she ran around snapping photos of everything and nothing. She walked towards the black phone that still hung on the wall and waited. The sound of ringing echoed throughout the disrepaired walls and it was almost a miracle that he jumped to the sound of the phone.

He slowly placed the phone to his ear and asked, “Hello?” He’d seen previously that the phone did not work but he was hearing it ring right at this moment. It was working for such a bizarre reason. Static electricity, the Grabber explained away.

“I’m so stupid.” Susie mentions, “I’m so stupid. I never realized something was wrong until he was dragging me into his van.”

Finney’s face went white before asking, not from confusion but for confirmation, “Who are you?”

“I don’t remember but I remember you.” She said, “I remember seeing you and your sister walking ahead of me. Everyday.”

“Susie. You’re Susie Salmon.” He claimed, “You lived on the same street I did.”

“That’s it. My name is Salmon like the fish, first name Susie.” She paused for a moment, “I remember seeing you and your sister walking ahead of me.” Confusion reigned on his face, “You need to get out of here.”

With that, the line went dead. “Susie?” Finney put the phone back before exploring the basement he, and all the other kids before him, were kept. Susie was dead and presumably so were the others: Bruce, Billy, Griffin, Vance, and Robin. They were gone and he, too, believed he would suffer the same fate as they had. His back rested on the wall where the phone hung, he faced the door and tried to come up with an escape plan but to no avail. Vance, Bruce and Robin could’ve been able to break or get the window open but neither of the three succeeded. What makes him any different?

Hours have passed and he moved position. He waited for another call, for the phone to ring once again and he wouldn’t feel as alone as he does. The familiar sound of ringing echoed throughout the soundproof walls and he snapped out of his head. He rushed towards it like it was a lifeline. “Hello, Susie?”

“I always wanted to be a wildlife photographer. I stayed back at school for film club. We learned about the importance of light.” Finney didn’t know what to say. Nothing she was saying was helpful.

“What good does that do me?” He asked.

“Use one of your shoes to break the lights. Your eyes will be adjusted to the darkness. His eyes won't be. You might be able to render him unconscious with a planned attack.” She hung up the phone and proceeded to watch Finney answer the calls of the other ghosts. She could only hope he’ll be able to make it out of the basement alive and back to his sister.

Masterlist

[jokeringcutio]

"This is a Nice Job" - Black Phone & FNAF Crossover - Reader Insert (Implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber x Reader) [ 1/?]

AN: As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it.

Summary: You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, when you have a chat with the hired magician for the day: The Great Al.

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black PhoneRating: Teen? Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Nothing Explicit (yet), Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Reader likes her job around kids. Not betaread. [ Support x ]

This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:

Loud music filled your ears, interrupted by the occasional shouts of little children as you darted between the tables, a tray of fizzing drinks balanced precariously in your grip. The squeals and laughter of children swirled around you, their faces smeared with icing and joy. You placed a paper cup before each eager set of hands, your smile never faltering.

"Careful now, don't spill," you murmured, patting a small head as its owner looked up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

"Thank you!" the child chirped, clutching the drink like a treasure.

"Happy to help," you replied, your voice a soft melody amid the cacophony of celebration.

Your gaze swept across the room, ensuring all was well, when the sudden hush of captivated little ones snagged your attention. There, at the center of the restaurant, stood Albert Shaw, the hired magician for today’s party. Freddy’s Pizza Place usually had a few performers they worked with, including a clown and this magician. His white-painted face was stark against the backdrop of colorful streamers, his large sunglasses hiding eyes that held secrets darker than the void.

‘The Great Al’, they called him, as he conjured silk scarves from his large top hat, making them dance like serpents charmed by his will alone. With the hat off you could see the shoulder-length dark hair that he hid underneath his hat most of the time. It was already turning grey, betraying his age which was harder to pinpoint with all the makeup covering his face.

He plucked coins from behind ears, eliciting gasps and giggles from his audience, each trick a thread in the tapestry of his dark artistry. He was good with the kids, you thought. His low voice occasionally made its way over the music that he had playing in the background. You found yourself rooted to the spot, your heart thudding a dangerous rhythm.

"Watch closely," he intoned, his low gravelly voice a siren's call that reverberated through your bones. A deck of cards appeared in his hands, flickering through his fingers as if alive. Strong hands, you noted. Thick fingers. Delicious. No – You shook the dirty thoughts away. You shouldn’t be thinking about one of the restaurant’s performers like that.

And then, with a flourish that defied logic, the cards transformed into a flurry of doves, their wings beating against the still air of the restaurant. The children erupted in applause, but you barely heard them. Your pulse quickened. The magician smiled as he revealed a small box and teased the kids with it. It was empty, but after a magical spell, the box was suddenly filled with enough candy to share around. You’d seen this performance several times now, and every time he managed to captivate you.

"Impossible," someone whispered beside you, echoing the disbelief that churned in your thoughts.

Al's performance built to a crescendo, the very air charged with anticipation. With a final bow, he finished, receiving thunderous cheers from his young fans.

"Amazing," you breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to a deity you were only beginning to comprehend.

"Excuse me,” the voice cut through the din of merriment, stark and commanding. You flinched, recognizing the voice before you turned around. “Could you come here for a moment?"

Oh no, have I done something wrong? The worried voice echoed inside your mind. I was only looking for a moment, Mr. Afton, you thought to yourself, focusing on what you could say in your defense. I was still on the job and paying attention.

Mr. Afton, your boss and one of the restaurant’s owners, stood in the dimly lit entrance to his office, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was tall, his stature was impressive for a man of his age. Already greying at the top, hair thinning, large glasses enlarging his eyes, belly poking out from underneath his arms.

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the excited group of kids that had gathered around Albert Shaw. But duty called, its voice as inescapable as gravity. With one last glance at the festive chaos of the party, you made your way toward your boss, the weight of his stare pulling you forward like a marionette on taut strings.

"Mr. Afton," you greeted him, striving for a tone of respectful professionalism despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

"Come inside my office," not a question, but a demand thinly veiled with kindness. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, not quite reaching the coldness of his eyes behind those aviator glasses.

Mr. Afton was a tall man, taller than most that you met in your life. His hair was thinning on top and greying but still had a lively curl to it. His eyes seemed larger behind the thick glasses he wore. Strands of grey adorned his pepper-and-salt beard. He was the exact definition of a ‘dad bod’.  In fact, you had heard he had a family, even though you’d never seen them. Rumors said he was divorced.

You followed him inside to see a large desk, files, and papers strewn all over it. There was an animatronic in the corner of the room, purple, with ears hanging. You thought it might be some kind of rabbit.

The thud of the door closing behind you made you jump and you turned to look behind you to see Afton had closed it. His eyes met yours, only for a short while, and you fidgeted nervously with your hands because… had you done something wrong? Had he caught you looking at the magician? That must have been it, there was nothing else it could have been. He must think you to be slacking. But you weren’t. You were still alert, still focused on any peep from a parent or child.

You needed this job and actually liked it more than you thought you would.

"I've been watching you,” your boss started, licking his lips as he walked toward his desk and then turned to lean against it. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his purple tie wrinkling with the motion against his yellow blouse. The sleeves were pulled up, showing strong forearms riddled with veins and scars.

“You have a knack for this,” he started in that low, stern voice of his. “Keeping the little ones entertained."

"Thank you, sir," you replied, shuffling awkwardly in front of his desk. There was a chair there, but should you sit down? He remained standing so you should too, right? Your mind was racing. Had you done something wrong? Had you not followed protocol? Was your uniform in order?

"I just want to make sure they're all having a good time," the words stumbled from your lips, clumsily and awkwardly, but the smile you managed afterward seemed to soften the look in Mr. Afton’s eyes.

"Indeed." He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. "However, I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distracted. By the magician, was it?"

You swallowed hard, caught off guard. "He's very talented," you deflected, but Mr. Afton's gaze pierced through your defenses, reading unspoken words.

“I,” you hesitated and watched as your boss raised a brow. Swallowing down your fear and gathering your courage, you spoke up again, louder this time. “I was still keeping an eye on the kids and delivering orders though. I might have seemed distracted but I was still doing my job.”

“So it seems,” Mr. Afton murmured, pressing a finger against his lips thoughtfully. You watched the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he frowned.

"Be careful," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "You are a pretty girl and I have noticed the man has been looking at you. People aren't always what they seem." There was a warning there, wrapped in the velvet of concern, yet it felt like a threat all the same.

"Of course, Mr. Afton. I'll remember that." Your words were steady, but inside, confusion and curiosity churned. Why did it feel like he cared? And why did it matter so much?

"Good." He clasped your shoulder briefly – a gesture that tried to be fatherly but felt possessive. "Keep up the good work. We need employees like you."

"Thank you, sir." You nodded, excusing yourself from his heavy gaze, a strange sense of relief flooding you as you stepped back into the colorful light of the party.

But as you returned to refilling cups and plating slices of cake, you couldn't shake the feeling of Mr. Afton's eyes on you, nor could you ignore the tingling sensation where his hand had been.

What had that been all about?

You wove through the sea of balloons and streamers, your heart still thudding from Mr. Afton's cryptic parting words. The din of the party enveloped you, a cacophony of glee that almost drowned out the lingering unease. Almost.

The magician, Albert Shaw, stood center stage, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. Tiny hands clapped with fervor as he flourished his final trick – a bouquet appearing from thin air. The children squealed, their delight pure and infectious. But when your gaze met his, something flickered there – an abyss that beckoned and repelled.

"Bravo!" The word slipped from your lips, but the echo in your mind whispered caution.

"Thank you, my dear audience!" Shaw's voice wrapped around the room, velvet lined with smoke. His bow was elegant, yet each movement seemed calculated, a dance with shadows only he could see.

As you slipped behind the bar, the festive chaos became a blur. You began stacking cups, the routine task grounding you. You missed Erica and Lucy. They at least pulled you into conversations every now and again. Today, your only colleagues were Mike and El, who were just teenagers whose hormones had started to work and who were way too busy with each other than with managing the tables. And there were Justin and Jax. The two J’s. Boys who had worked here for so much longer than you that they often forgot you were there and were mostly talking to each other.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, focusing on the music that played from the speakers softly in the background, that you hadn’t noticed the magician’s approach until his presence loomed over you. Albert Shaw leaned against the polished wood, his silhouette casting a long shadow in the neon glow.

"Could I trouble you for a glass of water?" His request was simple, mundane, but it crawled under your skin, insistent.

That voice, you thought, hearing that deliciously dark rasp in it. Was he a smoker? Whatever caused his voice to sound like that, it worked for you. It did things no employee should have to go through during working hours.

Embarrassing really.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tremble in your fingers. "It's on the house," you joked. You poured the water, the liquid crystal clear and innocent, an odd contrast to the darkness that seemed to cling to him.

"Generous," he remarked, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that promised secrets, a whisper of sin.

“I do have lemonade, soda, perhaps a fizzy drink?” You offered, cocking a brow. “I know there are cans of beer in the back. I could get a real drink for you. No costs.”

The man’s expression was hard to read, with all the makeup and the dark glasses hiding his bright eyes once more. But you thought you could see his smirk grow. His fingers curled around the glass of water, muscles tensing.

“A soda, then,” he said after a contemplative hum. “I still need to drive home.”

“A soda it is then,” you confirmed, looking at him from over your shoulder as you set to work to get him his free drink. “Most men prefer the beers.”

“Like I said,” his gravelly voice came while he tapped the brim of his top hat. “Got to drive.”

You watched as he sipped from his glass of water. Little droplets of sweat were running down the sides of his cheeks, smudging the white of his makeup.

“Responsible,” you murmured, placing the soda in front of him. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks.” He took the glass, fingers brushing yours. Electric. Intentional. You inhaled sharply, the air suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your pulse raced. This man was danger masquerading as charm, and yet, you were drawn like a moth to a flame.

You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.

"Nice performance," you managed, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. The innocence of the party around you clashed with the intensity of the moment, the frivolity of balloon animals and birthday cake juxtaposed against the enigma before you. You were vaguely aware of eyes upon you, but when you looked up, all of your co-workers were busy minding themselves.

“You’ve seen me perform before,” the magician said. Touché. He was right there. “Was today’s better than all my other performances? Or just not as bad?”

You turned to face him again, forcing a small smile.

“It’s always a pleasure to watch your shows,” you hesitatingly confessed. Were your cheeks red again? Could he see that you were blushing? You hoped not. You clumsily started to wipe the bar with a wet rag, wiping away stains of spilled drinks and oily fries.

"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself formally, though you already knew. His name had been murmured in hushed, awed tones all day. He was on the list in the backrooms, hired via Abracadabra Entertainment & Supplies. You knew Afton and Henry bought most of their balloons and garlands from them as well. Although the agency wasn’t as big as Ha-Ha’s, from which they hired their clowns.  

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw." Your reply was automatic, but your mind was alight with curiosity and a dangerous thrill. You lifted the wet rag, showing you couldn’t shake hands with him, to which he took no notice. He reached for your free hand, despite it being wet from the rag as well, took it without hesitation, and shook it.

You stood frozen, uncertain of what to do or how to react, when his hand was already long gone. But Albert was already talking, seemingly unaware of how the little gesture – that little skin-on-skin contact – had rattled you.

"Please, call me Albert." His tone was insistent, a command cloaked in courtesy.

"Then you should call me…" You cut yourself short, almost giving away more than you meant to, "a fan of your work." Not that he wouldn’t know your name by now. It was on a badge on your chest.

"Perhaps one day," he said softly, "you'll show me what you're a fan of up close." The suggestion hung heavy between you, tantalizing and terrifying.

"Maybe," you breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

As he leaned forward, his finger darted out to the badge on your chest. “Pretty name,” the words tumbled from his lips far more erotically than they should have. “Fits you.”

He then leaned back on the stool in front of the bar and picked up his glass while you spun around with cheeks all flushed, the wet rag still in your hands. You made the error of pressing the rag against your forehead, making you wince and leave for the backroom to get rid of it and dry your head.

This man was making you do weird things.

Upon your return, he was still at the bar, finishing a talk to one of the parents, and seemed to have taken his glasses off. Finally. Wearing sunglasses indoors was weird. As the dad left, Albert turned back to you and nursed his drink. Your eyes deliberately focused on the kids playing, rather than on the way the magician’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.

Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.

“You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?” Albert’s words caught you by surprise and you turned to him.

“Well, yes,” you said, because it was obvious. At least you hoped it was.

“You’re smiling radiantly. Like a bright star in the night,” Albert said, a toothy smile cracked the white of his makeup.

“Well," you replied, trying to steady your breathing. "Their laughter, it's... it's infectious." Your words fluttered out, betraying the turmoil within.

"Laughter, yes," he echoed, but something about his tone felt off. It gave you that weird shivery feeling down your spine. "The sound of pure... innocence."

He drank the soda, watching you over the rim of the glass, and you knew that this was no ordinary thirst. This was the thirst of a man accustomed to getting what he desires, by means unknown and best left unexplored.

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his stare heavy on your skin and you vaguely excused yourself. “I got swipe behind here too or the boss will think I’m not working.” Anything to get away from his eyes.

“Of course,” Albert replied, the grin never leaving his face.

“Didn’t he used to perform as well?” Albert’s question surprised you and you blinked up, already holding a broom in your hands.

“Huh?”

Albert hummed. “The yellow bunny suit, if I remember correctly. He told me about it once.”

You had to stifle a laugh. “What’s up with you performers and hiding your faces?” You asked. “You, the clowns, all use makeup. And the acrobat lady too. Or they wear big suits with masks.”

"Ah, but we all wear masks, don't we?" Albert tilted his head, a lock of greying hair falling across his brow.

"Sometimes without knowing it," you agreed, feeling the truth of those words more than you cared to admit. Then you sighed, the broom nearly slipping out of your hands.

“I don’t like wearing masks though,” you admitted almost dreamily. “I like to show the world who I really am. Putting on a front seems incredibly tiresome to me, don’t you agree?”

When your eyes met those of Albert, they were unreadable.

“It’s an astonishing thing, to be bashfully and unashamedly oneself.” The words came out brittle, then he reached into the pocket of his black coat.

"Here," he said, slipping a card from his sleeve with a flourish that made you jump. The black and red design swirled before your eyes, hypnotic. "In case you ever need a touch of magic."

His smile was a predator's grin, yet oddly charming.

“Got to do all my advertising myself. And since you were impressed…”

"Thank you," you stammered, feeling the card's smooth edges as you took it. The numbers danced under your fingertips, promising things unsaid.

"Call anytime," he added with a wink. It felt like a secret pact, one you weren't sure you wanted to be part of.

"Maybe I will," you murmured, pocketing the card, the heat of the exchange lingering like a spell.

As he turned to leave, Mr. Afton's shadow fell over you, icy and suffocating. You looked up to find his gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. Was it anger? Curiosity? Longing?

"Good work today," he said, each word measured and precise, but there was something else in his tone. A darkness that coiled beneath the surface.

"Thank you, Mr. Afton," you responded automatically, trying to sound unaffected. But your heart raced, betraying your composure.

"Keep our guests happy," he continued, his voice low, commanding. "That's what keeps them coming back."

"Of course," you nodded, but his eyes never left yours, pinning you like a butterfly in a case.

After a silence that felt like an eternity, Mr. Afton’s stern gaze finally left your face and he turned away from you. “Good girl,” it was but a low whisper, and you had to blink, wondering if the words had been real or if you had imagined them.

The moment you came out of your daze, Mr. Afton had returned to his office, seating himself behind his desk and leaving the door ajar so that he was in your field of vision. Your eyes searched the bar, but it seemed that ‘The Great Al’ had left.

As you watched Mr. Shaw vanish behind the swinging double doors, a shiver crawled up your spine. Laughter and chattering filled your ears, pulling you back to the here and now. And when you looked up, it was to see Mr. Afton as he lifted his eyes from the papers he was working on. Pale eyes that rested upon you for just a tick too long.

You loved your job, but whatever was going on here, you had no clue. The possibilities that filled your mind were too weird to consider. Patting the card hidden away on your body as a silent reminder to put it in your bag before you went home, you decided to ignore the weird tension that had been in the room earlier. And with a smile on your face, you went back into the sea of kids.

You loved this job and all the odd people you met through it.

AN: Guys, I did a thing (: Have you noticed the Arthur Fleck/Joker hints in it.

[siriouslytired]

Feedback fest 2024 🌻

Well RIP to my bookmarks because I just noticed that so many of my favourite fics have been deleted or made anonymous/put in a collection. Thought it would be fun to do this anyway.

Also apparently I managed to post this when it wasn't done (can you tell technology doesn't like me?) And for some reason I couldn't edit the original post (and what's up with that??). So uh, if anyone had liked the first post I deleted it because I got annoyed.

All fics on the list can be found on AO3

A Year In Toussaint by astolat

The Witcher; Rated E; Geralt of Rivia/Emhyr var Emreis

"[...] - and found himself spilling the whole sob story of his success to Emhyr, who actually broke and laughed out loud when Geralt got to the racehorses."

One of my comfort fics, will read it for a multitude of reasons but mostly just because it's so well-written and engaging (which is just all of astolat's fics really)

Hunger and Appetite by thegoodbutter

Shadow & Bone; Rated E; Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov; Modern AU

I couldn't actually tell you how many times I've read this, it's just SO GOOD. And the food descriptions are just fantastic, makes me want to cook up a storm/start baking something even though I hate doing the dishes afterwards.

The Stars Don’t Shine, They Burn by Sarcasmismydefaultmode

Shadow & Bone/The Witcher; Rated E; Alina Starkov/Emhyr var Emreis; Second Best AU

Read it. Do it. It's so fucking good. I usually don't read crossovers anymore but I couldn’t resist this one and it was so worth it. It blends the two worlds so well while making sure that the edges are obvious enough that you can still tell which parts came from what canon.

Amazing Grace (series) by Druid Moon

Marvel Cinematic Universe; Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton; Many references to different forms of crafts

A relic from when I mostly read MCU fics that I return to again and again and again. Super cosy, slightly sad, incredibly well-written, one of those fics that just draws you in once you start reading it.

coronas of wolf-teeth and rivers by Dialux

A Song of Ice and Fire; Not Rated; Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark; AU; Robert dies at the Trident, Ned dies at the Tower of Joy, Catelyn becomes Queen of Westeros

I remember reading the summary and basically attacking my phone screen to open the fic. It ties itself together so neatly from the premise and the way Catelyn is written is just fantastic.

Diplomatic Relations by KrazzeeAJ1701

Star Trek; Rated M; James T Kirk/Sybok; AU, Female James T. Kirk

Listen, I had a phase where I mostly read gender swap and I found some real gems - this being one of them. I don't re-read it as often as I should but every time I do I remember how much I like it and how fantastic the writing is. The set-up just makes sense and the progression of the story makes you want to keep reading forever.

the ghosts won't matter because we'll hide in sin by soapboxblues

A Song of Ice and Fire; Jaime Lannister/Lyanna Stark; AU

A cute little AU where Lyanna survives the Tower of Joy and is subsequently turned into a political pawn etc etc. Incredibly well-written and the pieces just fit together so well.

The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie

Harry Potter; Rated E; Sirius Black/Hermione Granger; AU, Time Travel, Soul Bond

I must have read this at least 15 times by now. It just works so well, you know?

For One Last Day by fideliant

The Hobbit; General Audience; Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield; AU

"The things we don't do for love." It's so bittersweet and lovely and all those wonderful things that make me want to smile and cry at the same time. Sort of chances-not-taken and now we're old wrapped up in this little moment that fits so well into the canon of LOTR.

Eurybia by Annerb

Pirates of the Caribbean; Rated T; Elizabeth Swan/Will Turner; Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swan; AU

"A love story. Elizabeth Swan and the sea." Read it. Just do it. It's so so so good. And it's barely 1200 words so you can read it and then spend an hour contemplating what you just read and still have time to do other things.

[dancingisdangerouss]

Consider this: A The Black Phone and The Lovely Bones crossover.

….That’s all I have lol, but I was re-watching TLB recently and noticed some parallels and the whole serial killer and ghost kids stuff. It’s literally also in the same timeframe!!

[aparticularbandit]

🌹

🌹🌹🌹

...

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

(I'm being aggressive and I'm only a little sorry)

for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP i’m currently writing

oh, fuck you. (affectionate)

READ MORE BECAUSE YOU GET NINETEEN OF THESE. JOKE'S ON YOU. HAH!

...but also a table of contents for anyone else who might want to creep in on these:

Dark!Eve

Agatha Birthday fic

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter

The Haunting of Westview Manor

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1)

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

Dottie as Sin Rostro

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer Book 4)

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2)

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal)

Roisa Grinchmas Special (this one’s in rhyme!)

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel

Paradise Lost post-canon

Timeless/Noir fusion

The Story of a Girl (Noir fic; Title pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”

Dark!Eve:

It’s boring when they don’t struggle.

Dottie’s let her practice on her some, let her bind her hands together, made sure she’s tying her victims down properly, grinned around the gag pressed into her lips, and just stared without making any noise as Eve’s explored. She’s learned – you can’t just rip someone’s fingernail off.  That hurts, sure, but you want to extend the pain.  Start with something small and then build.  You shove splinters and nails under their fingernails first, then you rip them off, if you want, provided there are other nails that you can do the same thing with.

Dismembering usually isn’t necessary.  The people they send her after break long before then, which is good, because she’s never actually gotten to try the dismembering thing. She can’t just cut one of Dottie’s toes off.  Besides breaking a bone is better than cutting it off because then you can still peel the skin back with a knife later.  If you remove stuff, it should be teeth, pried out with pliers.  Sure, they can’t grow back, but there’s not really much more you can do with teeth.

The thing about playing with Dottie is that she doesn’t break, which is fine, really, although she’s pretended to break so that Eve gets the idea of what that’s like, but Dottie is intentionally unbreakable so that Eve can deal with her own frustration when torture just doesn’t seem to go the way it’s supposed to go.  But also playing with Dottie usually ends up in—

She can’t think about that right now.  She needs to focus.

Eve picks at her teeth with the tip of her knife, fitting it carefully beside her canine with a little creak.

Maybe it’s the gag.

Agatha Birthday fic:

It literally goes wrong from the moment Eve wakes up.

Agatha refuses – absolutely refuses – to answer her phone.  Which, you know, on a normal day, that’s just fine.  Agatha has a life.  She has a job.  She’s juggling a lot of things all at once, and sometimes it takes a bit before she can call Eve back if she missed her call.  Usually, when she knows it’s going to be a while before she can call back, she shoots Eve a text to let her know, to check and see if the conversation is something that can happen over text (most of the time, yes, but not always).

But on her birthday?  None of that. No returned phone calls.  No texts.  No texts back, either, when Eve texts her. Just very clear and complete avoidance.

Now.

Eve likes to consider herself a good girlfriend.  She isn’t particularly worried that something has happened to Agatha; she’s too aware of the date for that and figures that Agatha is just hiding. (On a normal day, yes, she would be worried.  This is not a normal day.)  It isn’t like she didn’t do the same on her worst day ever, when Jane wasn’t available as a distraction (for very good reason), but even she had reached out to Agatha.  Eventually. When she’d desperately needed someone there and hadn’t—

Look, Eve understands needing to hole up and mourn, but it is Agatha’s birthday, and Agatha needs her, and Agatha would never admit that she needs her, so she’s going to go pound on Agatha’s door and barge in and make her feel better.  As soon as she gets off of work.  With the hope that Agatha is actually home.

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3:

The thing about hospitals is that—

Well.  There’s a lot of things about hospitals, and we really don’t have quite the time to get into all of that.  Andi’s still out, which does give us a fair amount of time, but I highly suspect that you would prefer to get back to the action, back to the fam, back to the search for the envelope to determine whether or not that they might find it.

Give me a moment.

The thing about hospitals is this: If you have an emergency contact listed with them, then when something happens to you, they call your emergency contact. Regardless of whether or not someone else is there with you, your emergency contact is the person who has the right to make decisions about your life when you are unconscious, the way that Andi currently is.  It’s just simple protocol.

And here’s the thing about that – up until just recently, Claire was Andi’s emergency contact.  Claire knew that.  Claire knows that.  It hasn’t crossed her mind, however, that when Andi reached the hospital they did not call her.  Duke did, but the hospital didn’t.

Because once Claire lied on the stand, Andi took some time to herself. Reconsidered a few things.

And changed her emergency contact.

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter (because it got prompted):

She told herself she would never actually go in the New York Sanctum again, after that last time, but the problem with telling herself that is knowing that, well.  As long as she literally had an apartment right next door.  Inevitably.

But honestly, she had a rent controlled apartment in New York City.  Sure, sure, she could use magic to override her landlord’s mind and make it completely free (and, sure, she might have already done that once or twice over the past few decades, when whoever inherited the building tried to fuck around with her (How can you be the same resident from over a century ago?  That’s not possible! – Dear, you live on a planet of superheroes that gets visited by aliens, and you think you have some normal human being just hanging out in this apartment?  That you can boss around?  This is why New York gets attacked by every new wannabe villain; it’s not the Worf Effect or a symbol or anything – it’s entitled landlords not remembering that people with powers exist and can punch the ever-loving shit out of them when they get pissed off.  Almost as bad as working in customer service.  Yeesh)) – but what would be the fun in that?  She’s not Wanda, after all.  She doesn’t need everything to go her way all of the time.

Admittedly, Wanda is the reason she’s here in the first place.  Something about America and Wendy being part of this new Baby Vengeance team or something like that (she knows the real name, but she enjoys seeing the frustration in Wanda’s expression when she refuses to use the right term, loves seeing her pinch the bridge of her nose, delights when, eventually, Wanda says, “I’m not even going to correct you anymore, Agatha; I know you’re doing this on purpose” and still sighing with exasperation anyway); something about how they’ve been gone for far too long this time. That thin tremor under her voice that suggests just how worried she’s trying not to be.

For a witch able to control the very fabric of reality in this universe, Wanda has gotten surprisingly good at not sticking her nose into everybody else’s business.

Why would she need to do that when she has Agatha to do it for her?

(In most cases, Agnes would be better, but they can’t get Agnes without having America open a portal to that universe she and Ash are shacking up in, so she’s the next best thing. Besides.  She has centuries of being the New York Sanctum’s nosy neighbor.  It’s just a shame that Cian is no longer here to see it.)

The Haunting of Westview Manor (aka THOHH/THOBM and WandaVision infusion):

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor.

Or.

Well.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping starting with Westview Manor.

She remembers, in flickering fragmented memories, moments before her family had moved into the not-yet-decrepit manor, but they’re few and far between.  Her time living there had so shaped and shifted everything else that it is hard to reach back to earlier, simpler, happier times.  Times when she could sleep and dream of something good – like flying into a sky full of stars and reaching out to each one in turn, hoping to make friends with them. Times that she hadn’t had since—

Well, since Westview Manor.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor, even before things went bad, and she’d always had a hard time sleeping after Westview Manor, even now when things could almost be called good.

It’s the closest to good she’d had in a long…in a really long time, actually.

But we’re not there yet.  We’re still looking at Westview Manor, we’re still looking at her, slumbering, trying to slumber, and shifting beneath her blankets, unable to stay still, turning this way and that, tangling herself in them, hands gripping her throat until she sits up, gasping for air, blankets falling to her waist.  Back then, she was only a child, brown hair nearly down to her waist if it was ever let free, although she cut it off a few days later, not liking the way it could so easily catch on anything – everything – around the manor.  She always felt like something was reaching out for her, grabbing and tugging on her hair with thin spindly fingers, and it didn’t matter that she would turn and see a statue with a bow or something like that, she still felt like it was someone and not something.

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???:

You are you and you are aware of yourself and you are aware of nothing at all.

Your name is Viola Lloyd, nee Willoughby, or something like it.

Your name is Viola Lloyd.  The year is 1680.  You are at Bly Manor.  Your daughter, Isabel, is five years old.  Your husband is gone on one of his business trips.  The money is running out.

And your sister wants you dead.

You have lived in this room – in your room, you know this room, you know it well, you know it from the way you have paced it so often, so often since you have taken up space within your host’s body – and yet you do not have a host.  You are you and you are yourself and you are nothing at all.

For the past five years, you have been stuck in this room, barely leaving it and being forced back into it when you do by family who are afraid that you will infect them or even more afraid that you will somehow ruin the image your daughter has of you.  This angers you – a rage that has been building over the past five years, not just from this alone – a rage that, it appears, has not left you, even in death. Your daughter remembers you as nothing else but this.  Why should seeing you at your worst make her hate you?  She has only ever seen you like this.

And this?

You know now.

This is not your worst.

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1):

Joan clasps one hand over the hollow where her left eye once was – or she tries to, but it isn’t as hollow as movies and books would lead her to assume.  The bulb that was once her eye is splattered, blood covering her face, the sheets, probably the face of the woman who had been lying above her – but none of this matters.  The only thing that matters is the nerve she now holds in her hand and the popped vessel at its very tip and the incomparable pain pulsing behind where her eye once was.

She doesn’t scream.

Her throat is torn raw, but she doesn’t scream.  She shivers as the pulsing slows down, sparks flying about her fingertips. The rings she’d been wearing – the rings the other woman made to ground her – are smashed, shattered much in the same vein as her eye is, and their metal edges feel shoved into the flesh of her thumbs, her middle fingers.  There’s probably blood there, too.  She can’t tell.

Joan takes a deep breath and sits up in the bed, still cradling what was once her eye in one hand, trying to clasp it to the hollow where it once lay, and it’s only then that she notices how far the electric jolt has carried Rose.  No longer is the redhead on the bed with her; instead, she has been thrown across the room by the force of the blast, and she sits crumpled on the floor beneath a wall that looks cracked by the weight of her. One of her hands cradles her head.

“Was it worth it?” Joan asks, her voice raw, rasping.  She can’t keep the venom, the bitterness out of her voice, even as Rose looks up with a blood-spattered face.  “Was this what you wanted?”

Rose doesn’t say anything at first, and Joan is certain that’s because there is nothing left to say.  With her free hand, Joan tries to prop herself up so that she can move from Rose’s bed, but the hollow where her eye once was throbs.  She takes a deep breath, her free hand gripping the edge of the mattress so tight that her knuckles turn a bright white.  A tile from the ceiling drops with a loud clang between them, but neither of them jump.

“I can fix this.”

Joan starts to whirl to face Rose, but the movement makes her stomach clench.  Her teeth grit together.  “What?”

Rose struggles to her feet.  “I can fix this.”

Joan stares over the other woman’s naked body with her one remaining good eye, and she chokes back a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob. She intends for it to be the former, but she’s in so much pain that the latter wouldn’t be unimaginable at this point. “You can fix this?” she snarls.  “I’m missing an eye!”

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Luisa/Wendy backstory/interlude/etc.):

“Rose?”

It has been three months since the accident.  She didn’t like to think about it in public if she didn’t have to, and for those first few days, she had holed herself up in what was their apartment, because no matter where she went it felt like everything playing on every television in every restaurant or train station or anywhere that had a television on playing in the background was that recurring footage and the big white letters on the blue background: SUPERVILLAIN THE GHOST KILLED IN EXPLOSIVE FIGHT WITH—

The rest didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter who had killed Rose (it was an accident, the reporters said; there were no witnesses), only that she was destroyed so completely that all that was left of her were her teeth and an imprint of her on a wall otherwise covered with shadow and ash.  There hadn’t been any body for her to identify, hadn’t been any call for her to come to the morgue, hadn’t been any funerary arrangements or urns or anything – just POOF! and then the love of her life was gone.

Luisa stared at the redheaded woman standing just in front of her, and her breath catches in her throat because Rose was dead.  But, then, maybe that was why Whitney had directed her to this hair salon to get her hair done instead of her normal one. Maybe Whitney knew something she didn’t.

But, no, before the girl could even say anything, Luisa was convinced that this couldn’t be Rose. She was too young.  Far too young.  (Okay, maybe not that young – she looked the same way, perhaps, that Rose should have when they first met, if Rose hadn’t been changing her appearance to fit how she thought she should look.)  Her blue eyes were brighter, calmer than the tempests that had often been in the midst of Rose’s, and the freckles on her face stood out more starkly beneath her make-up.  Rose had always tried to change her face enough to cover them up, to not have them at all unless Luisa specifically requested them, but this girl didn’t seem to mind hers at all.

And she was—

“No, I’m Wendy,” the girl said, and her voice made Luisa’s heart ache.  “But if you’d like to see someone else, I can arrange for that. You had an appointment, didn’t you? You’re Miss—”

“Alver, yes, I had an appointment, a friend of mine set it up for me, and no, don’t get someone else, I….”  Luisa took a deep breath to steady herself and looked up to meet the younger girl’s eyes. “You just look so much like someone I used to know.”

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Dottie Backstory):

You run a hand through her hair.

Present tense – run – when it happens, you’re present; when you remember, you’re present – you understand the past and the future as detached concepts, but you are present in them and within them; you remember and you relive.

You run a hand through her hair.

It’s soft, softer than her hair has any right to be after hours, days, years of being pinned up, sprayed into place, not one strand moving unless you – you, yourself, or someone like you, but there is no one like you, only weak men who fail beneath your own prowess – force them to move.  Her hair is soft and smells of roses.  That’s the bathwater.  You scented it, before—

You scent it and run your fingers through the warm water as you sit on the edge of the tub, rippling, rippling, rippling.

There are no candles.  She doesn’t like candles.  She caught you once playing with the flame – baby lightning in a bottle – sometimes you burn your fingers – Peggy doesn’t like candles or maybe she just doesn’t like it when the skin of your fingers feels raw from playing with them, doesn’t like the way your skin grows back and heals all too easily and the rawness is gone in only moments, doesn’t like the abilities your people stole from vials they were never meant to have.

You’re weaker, in that regard, than the boy she lost years ago.  You know his name, but not because she wants you to know it. She tore it at you, screamed—

She tears it at you, screams it, louder than anything – “He’s a better man than you will ever grow to be” – and you let her say it because she means it and because she needs to say it and you brush the dust of broken plaster walls from your dress and wipe a track of blood from just above your right eye and pop your right shoulder back into place and you stare at her, chest heaving, face all rage and hate, and you know it’s just redirected at the nearest person and that person just happens to be you—

You can take it.  She needs to get the venom out.  All out.

When you look again, her hands are no longer clenched into defensive, aggressive fists; her fingers brush those loose strands of hair back into place; she’ll be sore tomorrow, but she’s not bloodied the way you are.  If you were a normal person, you would have a black eye, but you aren’t a normal person, no matter how much they force you to act like one until they need you.

You rotate your shoulder and it hurts but not too terribly.  You like the pain.

“Are you done now, Peg?  Get it all out?”

Dottie as Sin Rostro:

Time off.

The words are a nuisance for Dottie Underwood, who would far prefer to be sitting in a lair waiting for instructions or set up on location, gathering intelligence or preparing for a hit under yet another alias.  Even the name she used now wasn’t the one she was born with, not that it much mattered.  Crime lords and their best associates rarely used their real names – Elena di Nola was Mutter and her second-in-command was Sin Rostro, whoever happened to be wearing the name on any given day.  Sometimes it was Elena; sometimes it was her son, Derek; sometimes it was her daughter, a woman Dottie had never met; and sometimes, on the rare occurrence that the other two were not available and Elena wanted a proxy, Dottie herself would wear the name.

Names on names on names.

She wasn’t even Dottie anymore now.  When the word slowly grew more and more associated with insanity, she’d needed something a little more sane, a little more…consistent.

Not that it mattered during time off.

She’d painted her hair a bright red to match the blood of her nails and her lips, heightening and contrasting her pale skin, her ice blue eyes.  Some might use smaller terms to describe her – attractive, pretty, hot – and she hated that last one in comparison with the others she’d grown accustomed to in the earlier years – alluring, magnetic, mesmerizing.  Hypnotic.  But she wasn’t looking for words when she walked into the bar, as amusing as the murmurs and the collective hush were.

It was the eyes suddenly trained to her that made her blood rise, the heads tilted in her direction and following her every move that started the bubbling giggle clasped in the back of her throat, the turning of bodies open to her every whim that assured her control.

But it’s to the mostly empty bar that she made her way, the crowd parting for her like hot butter for a knife, and it was at the sole occupant that she paused, brightly painted nails tapping on the counter.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice soft and full of the innocence and wonder she’d been trained to exude.  “I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re waiting for someone.”

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer AU Book 4):

Michael Cordero, Jr. had never had a strong fascination with hotels like the Marbella.  He knew they existed, but to him, they had always seemed like tourist traps, destinations for people who didn’t live in Florida, meant for an elite sort of people that he and his family had never and would never be part of.  That made it sound as though he had a strong distaste for them, and maybe, to some extent, that was true, but for the most part, he just didn’t think about them.

That was until his timer went off for one of the waitresses who worked there.

At the time, Michael couldn’t have guessed that’s what she was, and in the years since, years he’d spent watching her from afar while he tracked down a crime lord who had grown mysteriously silent until, finally, he’d been connected to the very same hotel where his soulmate worked, he’d found that distaste slowly growing.  His soulmate deserved better, and he couldn’t wait to see her grow into whatever that better would be.

Mostly he couldn’t wait to spend his time watching something other than this stupid tourist trap hotel and its absolutely unattractive current manager with his rippling muscles that looked like they could burst out of his shirt at any moment or his leggy blonde wife who seemed to have no sense of propriety and wore bootie shorts everywhere like she wanted to be seen as a piece of meat. Not that he was one of those misogynistic assholes who thought that women couldn’t wear whatever they wanted, because he was not that.

He was just growing very, very tired of watching all of it.

Until Roman Zazo fell from a window on the twelfth floor and landed with the sharp point of an ice Marlin piercing through his chest.

Then everything seemed to suddenly grow a lot more interesting.

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2):

“Hey!”  Clara pushed back against Hermione, shoving her over.  “I told you I didn’t want you to sit with me!”

But Hermione stayed where she was, refusing to get up, refusing to move even after Clara shoved her.  She just turned and gave her a flat stare.  “You’re not supposed to be fighting on the train.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re not supposed to set professors on fire either but—”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Ginny held up her hands, palms out, and stared at Clara.  “Hermione set a professor on fire?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at Hermione.  “You really did that?”

Hermione gave Clara a blank stare and then turned to Ginny.  “No.  Of course not.  Good students don’t set their professors on fire.”

“Yeah, well, you must not be a very good student, then.”  Clara crossed her arms and leaned back against the plush back of the train bench.  “Since you definitely did that.”

“Clara.”  Hermione elbowed her harshly as she whispered through gritted teeth at her.  “Stop.”

Ginny just turned to Luisa with wide eyes.  “You’re the Hufflepuff!” she exclaimed and grinned.  “You’ll tell me the truth, right!”

Luisa just looked from Clara to Hermione and then winced.  “I, uh, I—”

“Quit making house assumptions,” Janet interrupted, voice flat.  Cat the cat had made his way out of her arms and woven around her neck, his head resting on his paws on the shoulder closest to the window so that he could stare outside with his one remaining eye, his tail on the other end, occasionally flicking against Clara as it moved.  “Just because Luisa is in Hufflepuff doesn’t mean that she’s a pushover—”

“Hey!” Luisa interrupted.

“—just because Hermione’s in Gryffindor doesn’t mean she’s brave—”

“Hey!” Hermione echoed Luisa.

“—and just because Clara and I are in Slytherin doesn’t mean we’re going to kill you or try to take over the world.”  Janet’s wand tapped against her arm a couple of times.  “Although, now that I mention it, taking over the world does sound like fun.  We may try and do that anyway.”

“Janet,” Clara hissed, elbowing her. “We’re not going to take over the world. That is way more work than either of us wants to do.  And you would have to pretend to get along with people – all that hand shaking and playing nice and everything – and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

Janet sighed and nodded once.  “You’re right.  I wouldn’t. Maybe we postpone the taking over the world thing.”

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal):

“No, Daddy, I won’t be home for Christmas.”

Luisa has perfected the art of lying to her father about mundane things, particularly over the phone.  It started years ago when she was in high school, lying about stealing liquor from his cabinet whenever he asked with eyes that had initially shifted to look towards the ground and then eventually grew to facing him directly with a strong jaw, and continued through college, lying about how much time she was spending studying for her classes when really she was spending most of her time out with her friends doing almost anything except studying.  At some point, he stopped calling (or she stopped answering).  His time was – and still is – much better spent working on his company than inquiring into his children’s life.  Not because he doesn’t care.  He does. Luisa is certain he does.  That just isn’t how he shows it.  Mostly he shows it by staying out of her life or by giving her whatever she needs, money-wise, whenever she asks for it.

The not being home for Christmas part isn’t the lie.  The next part is.

Roisa Grinchmas Special:

Down at the hotel, far from their harsh glances, lived the other woman, whose drunken dances on tabletops naked with far too much glee were probably not meant for you or for me, especially since she had gone off the drink, tore it from her bar, and poured it down her sink. Yet still in her form she held both style and grace and often used these to make others’ hearts race. Her smile lit the room far better than fire and her heart burned like it would on a pyre for people and family who she held most dear, for whom she would shed far much more than a tear.

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

City Hall feels like a bad marriage between Greco-Roman architecture and modern, streamlined, minimalistic design.  The former is a bad habit of all American political buildings; the latter is likely Storybrooke – or Regina – specific.  There are columns and a lot of black and white, which Rose hopes is not indicative of Regina’s way of thinking or her morals (she doubts this), and some wallpaper of trees, which should be rustic, but because it’s in black and white, it isn’t.  It works a little better than most people would think, but Rose – who spent way too long as Emilio’s interior design decorator for his hotels – doesn’t think it works at all.  She likes the black and white better than the Miami beach vibes that the Marbella put out, but only because she’s gotten plain sick of the Marbella after the last several years.

Regina stops at the secretary’s desk before heading into her office, leaning over just enough to give Rose a good view of her ass.  This is intentional.  At least, if Rose had done it, it would have been intentional, and she suspects that Storybrooke’s mayor runs on the same general wavelength that she does.  She can’t say just why she suspects it, but she gets that general vibe.

“Jessica, dear, clear out my meetings for the rest of the day.” Regina glances over her shoulder at Rose as though she hopes to catch her staring.  Her expression falters and quickly fixes itself when she realizes that she isn’t.  “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Regina’s secretary – Jessica, apparently – lifts her head and glances over to Rose.  The two of them look quite similar, although Jessica is, for the most part, thinner and more angular than Rose is, with the exception of her chest, which almost seems impossibly big for how small the rest of her is.  Her Crayola red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she pushes thin black frames up her nose, brilliantly cerulean eyes peering out at Rose with a lack of interest as she takes her in.  “Of course, Ms. Mills,” she murmurs, and her voice is at once both demure and alluring.

Regina Mills might try her hardest to seduce Rose Alver, but she will not get anywhere near as close as this Jessica does within the first five seconds.

Rose swallows once, and her gaze flicks back to Regina.  Maybe that ass view wasn’t for her at all.  Luisa had thought Regina had something going on with the sheriff, but at this moment, she’s pretty sure that she actually has something much more interesting going on with her secretary.

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel:

Jessica Krupnick sees a lot that she does not mention.

Well.  This would mean more if she had someone to mention it to.  She has no friends in this little town, although she is certain that she could if she tried.  She has never felt that impulse to try.  People seem to think of her first as Mayor Mills’s secretary, the woman the mayor chose not as her right hand woman – the closest person in Storybrooke who came to that was Sheriff Humbert, who insisted that everyone refer to him as Graham (or at least, he insisted that to Jessica every time they spoke, and she consistently pretended as though he didn’t) – but as the protector of….

Well, her, if you wanted to think of it that way.

Sheriff Humbert protected the people.  He was a physical failsafe.  Jessica protected her office.  She was a mental failsafe.

And sometimes, Jessica considers as she sees Henry speeding into the office, skidding across the marble floors on his shoes with the biggest grin on his face she has ever seen, she protects her heart.

Paradise Lost post-canon:

Francis tapped the steering wheel of the U-Haul with the pad of her thumb. The air conditioner rattled a little too loudly as she drove, overwhelming the soft tunes crooning through the radio.  Davis sat in the middle seat, belt tight across his waist, and Reynolds sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting on the door and staring out the window at the passing landscape.

“It’ll be cooler once the car warms up,” Francis remarks, reaching over and tousling her youngest son’s hair.  He’s sticky with sweat; U-Hauls were nothing more than metal boxes, and in the Southern humid heat, it had cooked itself until even touching the seats felt like it would burn through their skin.  It was only made worse by the shorts they were all wearing, pushing exposed skin against burning fabric.  At least she had convinced the boys to wear t-shirts instead of tank-tops.

Davis was easy enough to convince, but Reynolds….

Reynolds wasn’t wearing a t-shirt the way Francis wanted.  Instead, his shirt was stretched so that it hung about him more like a wife-beater than a shirt, and the sleeves were stretched so that they might as well have not been there at all.  She was certain if he was wearing a normal shirt, the sleeves would be rolled up to feign a tank within seconds.

This was all just the influence of the football team and his father’s friendship with Dickie.  That may have fallen lax in the past few months as the divorce dragged on, but Reynolds had maintained his friendship with Dickie’s son – and no amount of Francis telling him it was a bad idea did anything.  In fact, she’d refrained from saying much at all, outside of suggesting that he should choose his friends wisely and hoping that Yates suggested the same.

Considering the fight he’d allowed between the two of them, Francis sincerely doubted he had.

Timeless/Noir fusion:

It happened at the end of her last class of the day.  Lucy felt the vibration of her phone – a longer buzz indicative of an email instead of the shorter one for a text – where it rested in the left pocket of her slacks.  She stepped outside of the lecture hall, shuffled her students’ papers and folders (it was essay day, and some of them still used folders although she’d said multiple times that she preferred they didn’t), and pulled out her phone.

Emma Whitmore.

Lucy didn’t recognize the name, but it could be from a student wanting into one of her classes or a professor asking for her expertise on one of their projects.  This wasn’t too unusual.  Probably a student – she knew most of the professors on campus by name; even if she’d never met them, she’d likely heard about them from one of the other students in passing.  She’d never heard of a Professor Whitmore, though.

Her eyes scanned the email.

Standard fare for a professor help request – doing a bit of research, wanted to speak with someone more knowledgeable about the subject (mostly time period, maybe some political history), etc.  There were a few lines that felt a little off, but Lucy chalked that up to what she expected was likely a new hire who was unnecessarily intimidated by her own pedigree.  And while it was odd that Emma hadn’t used her school email, given the more professional setting, it might be that she wanted to keep everything involving her research organized separately from her student emails.  Lucy couldn’t fault her for that, either.

She sent a quick reply – yes, along with perhaps meeting for coffee or drinks Friday afternoon – and then promptly forgot about the entire thing as her phone rang, another incessant and immediate buzzing.

“Amy?”  Lucy braced the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she moved her pile of essays and folders once more.  “Slow down!  What happened this time?”

The Story of a Girl (Noir Fic; Title Pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”:

The attackers dodged.  That was the first thing she noticed, the first of many problems with this scenario. They dodged.

The second problem was when one of them somehow caught the knife she threw at his forehead.  He smirked at her and threw it back so fast she barely dodged it herself.  These mooks were good.

But Chloe was better.

Whereas before she stood her ground next to the pillar with only the occasional dodge, now she began to race forward, a knife in each hand. The men pulled out their guns, finally finished reloading them, but she was upon them before the first trigger could be pressed.

Below.  Sweep the leg.  Beneath, behind.  Knife to the side, the neck.  Catch and hold while shot at – meat shields are the best kind because the shots go both ways.

Throw him away.  Dodge.  Roll. Bite.

The blonde stepped out from behind the pillar, aiming and shooting and moving, all one fluid motion, she a panther, lithe and strong, and Chloe a cheetah, swift and deadly, spotless.  She saw the shot from the gun, aimed toward the blonde, fast, too fast – the blue eyes once so icy now so warm and wide—

No.

Her teeth dripped blood that day.

[leverage-ot3]

11,17,20

Proudest moment?

bro I wrote this but I have no idea honestly

Favorite thing about yourself?

I’m passionate about helping others! And my tattoo plans are to make my body a garden which I love 💖

What are the fanfics you’ve ever read?

okay so this depends on fandom!

the witcher

we are known by the stories we share (geraskier, witcher!jaskier)

Watch Me Burn (geraskefer, yennefer stayed nilfgaard court mage au)

The Likes of You (geraskefer, fake marriage au, jaskier’s family)

Rivers Run Series (geraskier, river god jaskier)

Dead Weight (jaskier x lambert x aiden, banshee jaskier au)

Love’s Worth Running To (jaskier x geralt x eskel, au)

and i plan to be forgotten when i'm gone (yes i'll be leaving in the fall) (geraskier, cursed jaskier au)

Sing for Me, Little Lark (geraskier, bdsm club au)

Kiss a Frog (When He's Your Witcher) (geraskier, spy jaskier au)

The Red Prince (geraskier, fae jaskier au, witcher god jaskier)

the only way to breathe is to scream (geraskier, separate worlds au, famous singer jaskier, jaskier’s family is mafia)

Belong (geraskier, x men world au, teacher jaskier)

for she has done mischief (geraskefer, jaskier fucks a god and gets a baby out of it, jaskier’s family, parent trapping)

Business Partners (geraskefer, ice skating au)

if i'm good will you come back (geraskier, jaskier reincarnates au, heartbreaking and beautiful)

stranger things

How A Resurrection Really Feels (steve harrington x eddie munson)

Paradise By The Dashboard Light (steve harrington x eddie munson)

Good Ol' Fashioned Sexuality Crisis During the Apocalypse (steve harrington x eddie munson)

Touch and Go (steve x billy- lowkey though, I do not like billy and do not ship them but this was done really well; pre-steve x eddie; crossover with black phone)

The Idea of Something Binding Us Together (steve had powers au, steve & eleven are siblings)

The Future Mrs Harrington (steve & robin friendship, fake relationship; time travel au)

Look Right Through Me (steve was taken before will, steve & will friendship, steve & hopper)

Sanctuary (steve x eddie, steve goes missing in 1985 au)

leverage

Hearts Wrapped in Clover (leverage ot3, eliot never joined leverage au)

Ten Prides in Portland (leverage ot3, ten years of pride months in portland, a beautiful fic)

kids (aren't) alright (leverage ot3 teen au)

red notice

I Don't Care About Anyone (nolan x sarah x john)

marvel

In The End, She Appears (darcy x bucky, darcy is a banshee au, unfinished)

Daughter Of Athena Series (darcy x bucky x steve, darcy is a demigod au)

Red Threads of Fate (steve x bucky x fem!harry potter, soulmates; SO GOOD)

In Search of Elysium (darcy x bucky x steve, no avengers au)

The Super Soldier Job (leverage x marvel crossover, leverage team helps bucky after tws, leverage ot3 obviously)

Birds of Desire (darcy x steve x bucky, soulmates)

This Is My Hand (darcy x steve x bucky, soulmates)

Tread Softly, Angels (darcy x steve x bucky, soulmates, one of my first beloved fics)

Irreverence Is My Superpower (darcy x steve x bucky)

Here And Where You Are (darcy x steve x bucky, darcy has powers)

Surrender My Bones (darcy x steve x bucky, apocalypse au, unfinished)

bewitched, bothered, and bewildered (darcy x steve x bucky, darcy is a witch, THIS FIC MY BELOVED, unfinished)

the fortune teller (darcy x steve x bucky, immortal fortune teller darcy)

misc

Of the Northmost Winds and Skies (jack frost x hiccup, don’t judge me I was curious and then it altered my brain chemistry)

[heartwithavacancy]

Per @trixxiephantomhive I’mma do this. Challenge mode only AO3 and Public works.  Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people!  IDK who to tag. 

Lost & Found | Miraculous Ladybug | WC :1548 | Gen.

Gathering up his resolve and bracing himself for possibly needing to flee, he’s moving to the crates and peering into them. At first, he doesn’t see anything so he has to reassess this plan, the alley is too dim. After a moment he’s taking his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight function and crouching own. That’s when blue eyes finally see the tiny creature and his heart gives a painful little lurch. “What heartless son of a- Come here, baby, I got you. Don’t worry.” 

Flares Over Paris | Miraculous Ladybug (AU/PV)| WC: 4295 | Explicit |BriLix

“You can’t be…” That hardwired thought sparks and fragile hope shoves hard against what he knows - what he’s been told; what was drilled into his very bones. “She… died.” It’s a strained whisper, distress making itself known in his voice.

Bridgette’s hands rest on his chest and she’s taking in a sharp breath, brushing tears from her eyes she’s shaking her head. “Did He tell you that? Guess what, he’s a lying liar - surprise, surprise.” Her fingers reach and she’s taking hold of the zipper on his suit, tugging it down. A simple thought to Tikki and she’s taking off a glove and pressing her warm bare hand to his bare chest.

“Does this feel like the hand of a dead girl, Felix?”

Then she’s shifting leaning forward kissing along his jaw. “Or this?” Her lips trail along his neck slowly - gently.Felix takes in a broken breath, that touch to his chest is perfect. It’s warm and comforting somehow in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Bridgette always made him feel warm, soft… Bridgette had been the only one to make him feel that way the only person to push beyond the walls he’d built up.

In Colors | Yuri!!!! on Ice (Soulmate AU) | WC:1298 | Gen/Soft | Victor/Yuuri

Victor was not one of these people. He had always wanted to find his soulmate. Always. Ever since his days as a child, basking in his parents love; seeing the pink glow that his mother left upon his father’s skin when she took his hand and pulled him up into a joyful dance. Or when they embraced him or  kissed his forehead at night; lilac mixing with rose - the colors rare among the populace but they were so very soothing to young Victor.  Victor wanted that. He wanted exactly this and he would shake every had he had to to find it. Yuuri never really wanted to find his other half. He had enough trouble as just himself and his anxiety was a vicious thing; feeding into his fear that he wasn’t ever going to be good enough or good for anyone. He was just this side of a little chubby, horribly insecure with a bad self-esteem and image… No one wanted someone like him for a soulmate. So he donned gloves, black leather gloves for when he was out about in public.  It was for the best even if he did want someone to have that kind of connection with..

Memories Paint These Walls | BBC!Sherlock/Lucifer (Crossover/AU) | WC: 3721 | Gen | Myc/Greg, Lucifer/Charlie, implied Johnlock

Greg nodded swallowing. If this was true then why was it so hard for Mr. Holmes to accept that Mycroft was with someone like him? Granted, he wasn’t much of anything special, nothing remarkable but… “You’re saying they were lovers. They cared for one another.” “Yes, and again yes, deeply. Lucifer was devastated when he thought that Charlie had died. It seems that he like you had an uncanny ability to survive things that would kill men with less luck than you. Life goes on but they kept in touch; separate lives but another with each other.” He rather wished he was that brave, to have had a life like Lucifer, to have fought for them. “Again this isn’t why we’re here – well not the sole reason.”

I Celebrate You | BBC!Sherlock | WC: 1804| Gen| Myc/Greg 

The door opened only to close. He wasn’t sure who or what to expect given this day. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of company.” The voice that came was not the usher but the voice was much deeper and one he was far too familiar with. He glanced over his shoulder to find Gregory standing there, dressed in a tailored suit; a bit more formal than his usual attire; holding a box of chocolates and wearing a smile. His heart did a strange thing, a flip and twisting flop, slamming against the cage of his chest. Oh dear god.

Maybe Something New | Miraculous Ladybug | WC: 1137 | Gen | Felinette

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a lightweight. That was the first thing Féllix learned after their third event date.

Another Song | Miraculous Ladybug | WC: 1225 | Gen | Lukathaniel

“Oh, definitely. To be honest, I thought if anyone stood a chance to break Adrien’s hold on her it’d be you. You’re a total package and I just don’t get what she sees in Adien that you don’t have to be totally frank. I mean Marinette’s not shallow or anything like that - I know that but I just don’t get the appeal. He’s arguably handsome, polite, thoughtful but yeah you’re definitely all those things - plus you don’t come with the baggage that is control freak Gabriel Agreste.”

Distracted Vendue | Miraculous Ladybug | WC: 2220 | Gen | Felinette

The instant green eyes fixed on the now-familiar face of the ever enchanting Marinette Dupain-Cheng he knew he had to win the evening with her. Even if they just spent it here tonight dancing, drinking, nibbling food the servers brought out - he wanted that time with her. He'd send her a few times since the video incident, a couple dozen of those in person, three of those as Ladybug.

To her, he wasn't Felix Graham de Vanily; admittedly his first impression on her hadn't been a good one but eventually, they smoothed things out and she'd become something of a friend... perhaps more. He certainly hoped one day it might be more but he wouldn't force the issue, unlike someone.

But truthfully he just wanted more time with her, no matter the confines of it or how they spent it. 

We Were Gods | Miraculous Ladybug (Human Kwami AU) | WC: 2808| Gen | Plikki

Plagg is shifting back to normal, staring at her. Of course, he should have known. Her powers, he’d seen them first hand to a small degree back when they were wilder and beyond her control. It takes a minute for it all to click then he’s moving closer to her.

“Tikki.”

His whisper of her name makes her jump like a door slam. Tikki is peering up at him in shock. “Please, don’t come any closer. I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to bring you a gift. That’s all. I - I'll stop if you want me to.” She’s shaking, taking rapid steps back for every step he takes toward her.

Strange and Familiar | Miraculous Ladybug (PV/AU/GenderSwapped!Bridgette) | WC:2294 | Gen | FelBrett 

The stranger seems to go on alert the instant LB arrives and turns glancing over his shoulder. “That’s my cue.”

The spotted hero shakes his head, swinging onto the stage. “No. Stay.” It comes out as a sharp demand and the stranger bristles so Brett softens it with - “Please.”

Choices We Make in the End | Miraculous Ladybug {Pirate AU} |WC:1856 | Gen | Past and  currently onesided FeLuka

A sure sign of internal injuries. Now that he’s closer yes, there’s blood under the hand on his abdomen and Luka’s breathing is starting to rattle. The scent in the air around the pirate isn’t just blood - it’s death. Felix knew that smell far better than he would have liked to. And there isn’t anything that anyone can do - well nothing that anyone but Felix could do.

“There’s my favorite pirate. You’ve gotten yourself in a real mess this time.”

Felix is moving and with a gentleness that Felix reserved for those he truly cared for, he eased Luka up from his positing and gathered him carefully against himself. He doesn’t care about his clothes becoming bloodied. He doesn’t care about anything more than bringing Luka as close as he can. If he’s going to do this...

[reblogging4thewin]

Prompt: (x)

Sir, This is a Wendy's

Rating: G | WC: 1077 |Destiel, Aziraphale x Crowley | Supernatural & Good Omens Crossover

Fluff and Crack; Crack treated Seriously; Kid!Jack; crossover; canon adjacent; fusion

Characters: Dean, Cas, Crowley, Aziraphale, Anathema, Jack, Sam, Rowena, Pepper

Summary: While on an extended European vacation, a spell has Cas temporarily discorporated. Jack, however, still needs to be fed lunch. So, while Dean is working with Anathema on the counter spell, Cas, in all his trueform glory, heads to Wendy's.

Read this insanity on AO3 or below

-

The lunch rush was ending, and the last customer had just walked out the door. Pepper breathed a sigh of relief. There may be some stragglers in the drive thru, but the dine-in area was usually pretty quiet for the next couple of hours.

As Pepper wiped down the counter, a glowing ball of blue light phased through the glass door of the restaurant and paused in front of the register.

Pepper looked up to see the light coalesce into a strange being with interlocking rings like a magic trick, with many eyes dispersed throughout its incorporeal mass, and three pairs of black feathery wings that shimmered a kaleidoscope of colors under the fluorescent lights.

"BE NOT AFRAID," Castiel said. Although, it was more of an intonation which Pepper felt in her bones rather than her ears.

Pepper huffed indignantly. Great; more angel shit. Just what I need.

"Sir, this is a Wendy's."

The many eyes blinked rather sheepishly. "Sorry, I've just been dispossessed, or um, discorporated for the moment. But my son still needs lunch so... I was hoping you could lend a hand."

Keep reading after the cut or on AO3

Since Cas had been the only one in his body for many years, 'dispossessed' was no longer accurate. He was grateful to his new friend Aziraphale for teaching him the term 'discorporated'. Cas and Dean had taken a trip to Europe and came across his lovely bookstore. The trip has been rather enlightening in many ways, one of which was meeting and having tea with the absolute legend whose name Fergus McLeod had adopted (Crowley didn't mind the name borrowing - it meant he got to keep up appearances without actually having to do the dirty work). They'd talked about so many things, including how both of the nephilim/anti-Christs they'd raised (or attempted to raise) had decided to be regular kids after stopping their respective apocalypses. The main reason they hadn't met before was that Crowley had been too busy living his life with Aziraphale and not giving a damn (literally and figuratively) for the past several decades, having staved off a different apocalypse long before Dean's first rodeo.

Now however, due to a spell backfiring, Cas was stuck outside of his body for at least the rest of the afternoon. While Dean was working with Anathema on a fix (and consulting with Sam and Rowena over the phone), Cas stayed behind in their little rental cottage with Jack. However, little nephilims who've assumed a body reflecting their actual age require food, and a discorporated angel doesn't exactly have the hands or skills to provide that. Sure, he could move incorporeal things while in this form (like carrying a soul out of hell, or wiggling some radio frequencies); but the fine motor skills needed to operate a stove and assemble ingredients require limbs.

Thus, Cas found himself at Wendy's. One of the few Wendy's in the UK, in fact. He'd flocked to it as something recognizable in all of the chaos. Cas had learned a thing or two since he first came back to earth over twelve years ago; so when he spoke, the glass windows and walls of the building didn't shatter. The lights above him, however, did flicker in time with his words.

"Your....son?". Pepper asked incredulously.

"Yes," Cas smiled, which in this form manifested as a soft rosy glow. "His name is Jack."

Pepper shook her head and rolled her eyes. I don't want to get involved, so I'm just gonna roll with it.

"Ok; what'll it be?"

-

"Hey Cas, I've got the counter spell!" Dean called out as he entered the little stone cottage later that afternoon.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw the remains of Jack's kid's meal, and an intact Baconator meal of his own on the table.

"Cas, did you go to Wendy's?"

Cas entered the room, blushing again. "I made sure to lead with 'Be Not Afraid.'" Despite the lack of hands, Dean could hear and somehow visualize the air quotes.

Dean facepalmed. "Cas, I don't think they could help but be afraid. These people have never seen angels outside of human bodies before. You probably traumatized someone."

"The nice girl at the front didn't seem scared at all, Dean." Dean could see Cas' face scrunch up as he continued. "Actually, she sounded annoyed." The expression was endearing even in this incomprehensible form, because it was Cas.

Dean crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, come on; let's get you back in that gorgeous body."

Cas fixed his multitude of bright blue eyes on Dean, narrowing into a glare. "That can wait a bit; you should eat first."

Dean rolled his two green eyes right back. "I'm fine Cas. I can eat later. You're literally having an out of body experience and you're more concerned with my stomach waiting another five minutes."

Cas came up to Dean and ghosted a kiss on his cheek in a pulse of light. "I just want to take care of you, Dean."

Now it was Dean's turn to blush. "Yeah, and I just want to take care of you. That would be much easier for both of us if you'd get back in here." Dean gestured towards Cas' vessel, which was laid out on the living room couch.

Cas let Dean lead him over to the living room and watched as Dean drew the diagram, set up the bowl with the spell ingredients, and crouched down beside the couch. A quick incantation and flash of purple light later, and the invisible barrier around Cas' body dissipated, freeing it for him to enter again.

The glowing ball of celestial intent which is Castiel flowed forth like a stream into the mouth of his vessel. His skin glowed brighter and brighter with his grace, and Dean had to shield his eyes at the last moment as Cas fully took hold of his body again. They both blinked several times as the glow subsided and Cas got his bearings again.

"All good?" Dean asked as Cas sat up and stretched. He put a hand on Cas' knee and looked up to meet his eyes.

Cas smiled warmly and cupped Dean's cheek. He slid his hand down and took Dean's hand, helping him to his feet as he stood up. Then he reached up behind Dean's neck and gently guided him down into a soft sweet kiss, smiling against Dean's mouth as he pulled back to answer. "I am now."

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

[lackadaisicalnereid]

oho!! there's a bunch of intriguing things on your list, feel free to pick one if this is Too Much: evil annie/abed, girlhood is like godhood begging to be believed, vanessa blair, amy ainsley AU, elizabeth / sansa, and jenny/blair wedding dress?

ok *pulls sleeves up and gets ready to type*

Most of these there isn't too much of, so I can speak briefly about them and share some excerpts, no problem.

evil annie/abed

this is 100% because you and @bohemicns wrote those excellent fics for the mutually assured destruction ficathon, what can one do.

I'm not exaggerating when I say there's little content for some of these. This is all I have for this fic:

evil annie, which he takes to calling her, is a creature whose sole intent is to mesmerize. this is the only way he manages to make sense of how he feels when she looks at him.

I don't care about a plot, when have I ever, what I do want to see is Abed's attempts to ~narratively explain to himself his attraction towards Evil!Annie.

girlhood is like godhood begging to be believed

This is one of those things that doesn't have a single word to it, it's just an idea. I am a big Dangerous Liaisons fan, and am not opposed to indulging in Greek myth, let us say, so I thought to myself, why not both? *El Dorado gif*

I wanted to take the whole cast of the four siblings and add some adjacent dumbasses (cassandra, ok, any excuse to add cassandra is a good excuse). So we have clytemnestra, castor, pollux, helen & cassandra. We have a dangerous liaisons AU. That is all.

(Also, I was a big fan of Castor and Pollux in the original Sailor Moon anime. Make of that what you will.)

Now when I look at all this, I'm not even sure how this title got here. Maybe from a ficathon? *shrugs shoulders*

vanessa blair

The world would've been a better place if we could've gotten a Vanessa/blair friendship. I want basically Dan/Blair, but with Vanessa. If no one else writes it, I will have to.

Vanessa walks into the woman soon be known as Blair exactly like the sleep-deprived freshwoman (thank you very much) disaster she is, looking over some shots of the yard taken on her phone yesterday when she was considering shooting her next video there.

That is literally all I have.

amy ainsley AU

Now, this I have more of. Maybe this was for an exchange or sth? I know I never posted it, or finished it. Amy is Amy March from Little Women, transported into The West Wing to annoy & make Ainsely fall in love with her.

This one has more meat on its bones, but not sure how I would go about continuing it.

Ainsley, as a rule, hates being prejudiced, but she's also not come where she's come without using a few mental shortcuts on her way from there to here, and from where Ainsley's standing both generally in life, as a Deputy White House Council, a black sheep of a Republican in a Democratic administration, and specifically, on this staff meeting, well - Amy smells of Massachusetts, her stated home state, amongst other things; reeks of it even, a poster child of inadequate driving skills (telling a tale of hitting a lamp post in Boston, albeit discreetly, but Ainsley overheard it anyway), nursing what Ainsley knows is the cheapest and by far the worst coffee in a one-mile radius, skipping over some of her Rs, though not all of them, and last but not fucking least there is the mind-shattering liberalism obvious from -- well, maybe it's not obvious in the usual sense of the word, and maybe Ainsley will have to concede her brain's jump-to-conclusionness, but yeah, it's not like Ainsley to be wrong about these kinds of things.

elizabeth / sansa

best crossover ever. @kwritten wrote one once and it was glorious. what i had in mind was elizabeth swann as the pirate king, and sansa, after she jumps off the cliff in whatever season it was.

It - he - she - Elizabeth cannot tell yet, is a castaway. She thinks she saw the shape of a dress, but it might not have been dress. What she definitely has seen - and this is impressive - and Elizabeth does not impress easily these days, is that the dress-carrying-the-for-now-genderless being jumped off the top of the cliff. Elizabeth's done crazy things in her day, her day being yesterday and also tomorrow, but she's never jumped off a cliff this high. It's impressive, this person is impressive, and Elizabeth is impressed, still, when she steps into the rowboat herself, telling Gibbs to man the ship and wait for her for an hour.

"Keep a weather eye on the horizon."

Gibbs nods. If he is dissatisfied, he does not show it, and this pleases Elizabeth, who does not wish him to show his feelings always when he has them.

jenny blair wedding dress

"Hello, Blair. I hear you need a kick ass seamstress."

"And clearly, God hates me, because what I got is you."

"Charming, Blair."

"Do you have something to wear for the wedding?"

"Please little - please Jenny - this is Serena's wedding we're talking about, I had the outfit picked out before your brother decided to man up and propose."

I originally wanted this to just be fun shenanigans. I don't know what I want anymore. It's supposed to be Jenny dropping by to make Serena's wedding dress, on Blair's orders. And then, shenanigans.

Done! I'd love to hear your thoughts on any/all of these!

[queenofhearts7378]

Goth

(I once wrote a oneshot about Sam and Adrien being Pen Pal friends and I was today years old when I realized I would die on that hill. Also I've been wanting to write a Rebellious AdrienTM for a while now soooo....)

"No."

Adrien felt like his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. His father's face was stonier than ever as he raised his head to glare at Adrien.

But Adrien wasn't backing down on this. Plagg's claws were kneading his chest in comfort and there was a rage burning in his bones he hadn't felt outside of his suit.

Gabriel set down his pen. "You do not have a choice Adrien."

"It's my life!" Adrien hissed. "I've done everything you've asked-no, demanded I do. I fence, I model, I take Chinese lessons and piano lessons-"

"And everything has been slipping ever since I allowed you to go to public school." Gabriel interrupted, "You are constantly skipping your lessons. I've entertained this little teenage rebellion long enough-"

"Rebellion." Adrien’s voice went as flat and cold as his father's. He could practically feel his hair bristling in response to his anger. "You think this is a rebellion."

Gabriel opened his mouth, but Adrien cut him off. "No! I'm done. You really think I'm rebellious? You have not seen anything yet."

He turned around and stomped to the door, throwing it open with force.

"ADRIEN!" Gabriel thundered.

Adrien threw him a dark look over his shoulder, "I quit. Find someone else to be your golden goose."

He ignored his shaky hands and his father's voice as he slammed the doors behind him.

….

Chat Noir jumped across the rooftops of Amity Park, looking for a house he had only been to once before. Danny wasn't at his house, and Mrs. Fenton had gladly pointed him towards Sam's after giving him a sandwich and some cookies and a hug.

Chat eventually found the right address. He dropped down and peeked in a few windows till he saw the one with the Amity Trio in it. He knocked on the glass to get their attention.

The three of them snapped their heads to look at him, Sam eventually walking over to let him in.

"Chat Noir? Are you okay? Que faites-vous ici ?" She asked.

Chat shook his head as he slipped in. He dropped the transformation as Sam closed the windows and couldn't stop himself from freaking out. Plagg shook his head and flew up to nuzzle his holder.

Adrien let out a high pitched whine and sunk to the floor, gripping his hair in his hands. "Pourquoi ai-je fait ça? Mon dieu j'ai tellement de problèmes!"

Danny, Sam, and Tucker exchanged alarmed looks.

"Adrien?" Danny slid down in front of him, gently pulling his hands away from his hair. "What happened kit?"

Adrien let out a hysterical giggle, "Je told mon pére to shove eet."

Tucker let out a whistle. "Woah dude. That why you're freaking out?"

Sam kicked him in the shin for the lack of tact, and Adrien let put another hysterical giggle. Danny pulled him into a hug.

….

Adrien finally calmed down after a while and managed to explain what happened, leaving him an exhausted puddle on Sam's bed. Sam was petting his hair while explaining the overcomplicated plot of some American monster movie crossover series. Danny had left for the third time to fight a ghost, with Tucker following after receiving an annoying phone call about Technus.

"You know about teenage rebellions right?" Adrien interrupted her.

Sam looked at him, "I'm a goth to rich, preppy parents. Everything I do is teenage rebellion to them."

"I do not know how to rebel." Adrien whispered, eyes wide. "Where-where do I even start?"

Sam hummed in thought. Then she reached over to her bedside table and brought out a sketchbook, a few bottles of nail polish, and a little black zip up bag.

"How about a makeover?"

"I do not pull off 'goth' like you and Juleka."

Sam rolled her eyes as she shoved him up to a sitting position, "First of all: that's a lie, I've seen you pull off eyeliner sharp enough to cut. It would make any goth jealous. Second of all: I'm not talking about giving you a new thing like me."

She pulled out her bottle of black nail polish and grabbed his hand. Adrien didn't protest, as he had never had his nails painted with anything other than a clear coat.

"You already know your thing, Agreste. You just never got the chance to show it. Everything you did was an Agreste brand. Your clothing, your actions, your social media. Your freedom of expression and voice was smothered by expectations from your father-" The plastic top of the brush cracked under her fingers, and the two of them stared at it for a minute.

Sam sighed and finished painting his nails before speaking back up. "You just have to wear stuff you like. Do things for you, not anyone else."

Adrien blew gently on his nails, admiring the way they shined in the light and cooled on his fingers. "What if I don't know what I like?"

Sam scoffed, "Then we go shopping. We both have money to spare. Besides I've seen you eyeballing my black ripped skinny jeans, and you love all the pun shirts Danny wears."

She eyeballed his waist. "I don't think you'd fit into my jeans, but Tucker left his pair here when he was trying to reinvent himself. And I know Danny leaves his shirts here all the time so-"

Adrien suddenly hugged her, being careful not to smudge the fresh nail polish.

"Adrien you are crushing my gothic indifference." Sam mumbled into his shoulder.

Adrien giggled, "You're an amazing friend Sam."

"Uggghhh let go of me you sap." She complained, but didn't make any move to break away.

[amariaamaris]

Of Changes and Revelations

I got this idea from the other Marvel and TVD crossover that I did, it is going to be (hopefully) very different. I hope it comes out well and that I do it justice... I’m already working on a second part, I felt that this was getting a little to long! Please let me know what you think and if there are any grammar/spelling/punctuation things that need fixing. Constructive criticism is always welcome. This took me forever, there were so many roadblocks and questioning myself on if I actually wanted to write this. Thanks to my sister pushing me and my imagination running wild with promises of what I can do in the future with this... I decided to go through with it... so enjoy!

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

After it’s all said it done; after Esther failing in killing her children, Bonnie’s mother being turned to break the link, Abby bailing (again), Klaus forcing Bonnie to break the spell Esther did... The expulsion of magic that resulted inadvertently saved Finn’s life, knocking out the scooby gang in the process (including most everyone in the town). While also setting fire to anything flammable within the radius of the town (leaving only a select few homes and buildings untouched). It’s safe to say all the white oak is gone... along with multiple buildings.... (oops?) The poor trees are all fried, though luckily they have strong bark, so they’ll survive (it also helps that Bonnie helped to heal them).

All of it coalesces and brings Bonnie to locking herself up in her grams house for as long as she pleases with no acknowledgement of the outside world. She had methodically gone through the house and unplugged the internet, tv’s, shut down her phone, and all other electronics. She just wants to be left alone, Bonnie is exhausted; she’s tired of being used, abused, and taken for granted.

She had found a boundary spell in one of the grimoires to keep those with ill or selfish intent off her property and the fu- away from her (especially certain vampires). In the middle of the week Bonnie left her grams house and went to the school. At the beginning of the week she set up this time to test out of high school.

Bonnie made sure to blend in with the crowd to not be spotted by her “friends”; they may have not seen her, but she definitely saw them. She took the test within three and a half class periods and got the hell out of there. Bonnie drove away like a bat out of hell and made it back to her grams house as fast as she possibly could. She had completely moved into her grams house throughout the one after another of the supernatural shit show that she now calls her life (or rather did call her life). Not like her father was ever around for her to bother staying in his house.

The plus side of testing out of high school is that she can go and get whatever she needs without being worried about being ambushed by her “friends” or the Mikaelson's. Bonnie has also decided that she is going to take all the time that she needs to spend on self-love, working with her magic to learn, and embrace it joyfully. She also has been spending time in meditation and speaking with all of her ancestors. For once in her life, Bonnie Shelia Bennett has finally decided to be selfish and damn the consequences.

Little did she know that her new change would go right along with a huge change that will flip her world on its axis and bring up deeply buried memories.

————

Rudy Bennett knew that this day would come, he knew that eventually they would hunt him down. After all, he did abandon his post, he cut off all contact and went rogue. In doing so, also kept his child away from her culture and her people. He knows that if they find out about her and his lack of parenting, that would sign his fate.

Rudy couldn’t hide his shaking hands as he poured himself a drink and promptly chugged what was in his glass. He did decide that he wouldn’t run or hide, he was going to wait for them to come. He just got done pouring his second one when the lights flickered off; causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine, he could also feel sweat on the back of his neck.

When the lights flickered on, there were two Dora Milaje standing on the other side of his desk. Still as stone holding their vibranium spears, with the king and his cousin standing in between them. Both in different black panther suits (armor?), causing Rudy to gulp. Rudy could feel more sweat break out on his skin as he warily stared at his king.

“D’Kadi Dzube, you’ve been missing a long time.” Rudy or rather D’Kadi watched as both the men tapped on their collars and watched as the mask melted away and showed their faces. Rudy could hear his blood rushing to his ears as he felt himself pale a little. “You were once my father’s most trusted war dog. Then one day, you disappeared without a trace. Just a few months ago we found you... we also found some very interesting information. D’Kadi Dzube you have a daughter that you hid from your people. From my understanding you have been neglecting her as well.”

Rudy could hear ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his body, he could imagine that he looked white as a sheet. Everything was blurring and before he knew it his eyes were rolling and he fell into darkness.

————

Bonnie could feel something coming to the depths of her bones, it would cause her to pause as her hair would stand up on its ends. Which would lead her to looking out the windows, but there was nothing there. It got to the point where Bonnie decided to add an extra warding to the house rather than the property. Evidently to keep anyone away from the structure of the home, while still being able to enter the yard (only if they pass the wards on the property that is).

Bonnie had started a cute little herbal and vegetable/fruit garden in her backyard, along with some landscaping spanning around the whole house. Along with flowers on both sides of the pathway walking up to the house. Bonnie has never before felt this free and happy. That doesn’t change the fact that she still feels a phantom twinge of pain when she thinks of how her friends haven’t even tried to come visit her. Not. A. Single. One.

Hell! Even Klaus showed up! Not that he could get on the property and it’s not like he was checking up on her... but still! Bonnie lets out an annoyed huff and shakes her head as she focuses back on her plants at the front of the house. She tries to work through her agitation; at her friends, the Mikaelson’s, the Salvatore’s, her parents, her grams for not teaching her from the beginning, at herself for not being smarter and wiser, and Bonnie might as well add the world to the list to. 

She very quickly finds herself falling into a flow of taking care of the plants as everything washes away. Bonnie has found that in many instances doing something like this puts her in a meditative trance that helps to center her. Two hours pass with Bonnie working on her plants, when she hears a car drive up and park on the curb.

Bonnie allows herself to slow down in her landscaping work, but doesn’t turn around - even as she hears the car doors open and shut. She can also hear strangely accented voices talking, both male... but she can sense more people with them. Hearing them coming closer makes Bonnie glad that she chose to wear a wide brimmed straw hat that belonged to her grams (she’s rather not have people recognize her before she can tell whether or not they are threats). 

“Excuse me? Are you the daughter of Rudy Bennett and Abby Bennett....” She freezes, but gives no answer. Bonnie can already feel her magic gathering, ready to motus the hell out of all of the people behind her. Receiving no answer, the people behind her exchange looks, “Granddaughter to Shelia Bennett?” Bonnie feels her agitation spike, causing her to rip off her dirty gardening gloves and throw them to the ground.

Bonnie turns around to look at them, noticing two men that look like cousins, two bald women that have what look to be tribal tattoos on their heads, and a random white man wearing clothing far heavy for how warm it is. Bonnie can practically feel her magic crackling at her fingertips and through her hair. “That depends on who is asking and why...?”

One of the cousins move to step forward, but upon seeing the look on her face, thinks better of it. Though, that didn’t stop him from kindly smiling at her, “My name is T’Challa, this is my cousin N’Jadaka, these two women are Okoye and Ayo, and this is James Barnes. I would like to speak to you about your father.”

Bonnie studies all of them and then flicks her eyes back to T’Challa, before she can respond with something biting, she hears whispers upon the wind. She allows herself to slightly tilt her head to listen better. After a few seconds Bonnie focuses back on T’Challa and the people he brought with him. “I’m not interested in talking about the sperm donor that calls himself my father. I could care less what type of underground cultish mafia he got himself into. If he owes you anything make Rudy deal with it, his problem’s aren’t mine to deal with.”

Bonnie quickly makes her way onto the porch of the house - without turning her back on them (she doesn’t have a death wish) - already knowing that whoever these people are, they aren’t going to let her off easily. N’Jadaka, the man with weird bumps all over his extremely musc- no! Bonnie quickly mentally shakes herself as he snickers with a smirk on his face. “I don’t think I have ever heard someone call people from Wakanda a cult or mafia. The little kitten does have a point cousin.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, “She should be wary, she knows nothing about her father’s history. “

“N’Jadaka...” T’Challa gives him a sharp warning look, not noticing Bonnie moving to open the front door to slip inside. “Where do you think you’re going kitten? We said we wanted to talk that’s what you’re going to let us do!” He moves to go onto the porch, but feels like he hit a brick wall, N’Jadaka also gets a nasty zap throughout his entire body. Causing him to hiss slightly in pain as the group takes notice of the wind picking up and hissing whispers upon the wind (not that they could make out what they were saying). They do notice how Bonnie seems to understand exactly what is being said upon her head whipping around to face the road. All of them watched as she ripped off her hat and lightly tossed it onto the porch swing, they heard the sharp angry hiss escape from her as her green eyes darkened.

The group from Wakanda evenly spaced themselves out as they turned upon hearing a car door slam, they all watch as a long blonde haired young woman walked around the car and onto the property. “Bonnie! Where have you been? We have all been trying to get a hold of you, you haven’t been at school, you haven’t been answering your phone or showing up to practice! We’ve been worried! Honestly Bonnie Bennett you better have a good reason for completely cutting all of us out of your life... who are these people?!” Bonnie stares at Caroline for a few seconds realizing that her chest no longer hurts when thinking of her ex-friends. In fact Bonnie realizes with sudden clarity that there isn’t pain when she thinks of her friends, only white hot fiery fury and looking at Caroline only makes her annoyance and fury rise at the audacity that she had to show up to her grams house unannounced at her house, at her sanctuary.

“Who they are is none of your business Caroline, in fact they were just leaving, like you will be. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk to people that ruined my perfectly peaceful day by arriving unannounced.” Turning her attention to the curious onlookers Bonnie continues “I don’t care to talk about Rudy and whatever shit show he’s gotten himself into,” looking to Caroline “and I don’t want to be forced to listen to lies! I’m well aware that none of you have noticed my absence up until a couple days ago. I’m also aware that none of you actually care for me, all of you just see me as some weapon to be used. Well I’m done being your sword and shield. I want all of you the hell off of my grams property. Do whatever you want with Rudy, it’s not my problem and I want nothing to do with it. Caroline you and the rest of those assholes can shove your lies and demands up your asses. I’m not going to be your quick fix to problems you brought on yourselves. Grow the fuck up and deal with them yourself! Now get the fuck off of my property!”

The front door slams viciously behind Bonnie, whose screaming voice still echoed in the air with whispers following it, the group from Wakanda all had their eyebrows almost to their hairlines. While Caroline’s jaw was dropped almost to the ground in shock and hurt. “You should leave Care-o-line, you’re no friend of hers.” N’Jadaka’s voice quickly pulls her out of it and brings up her misplaced righteous fury. “Oh, really, I am her friend. Who the hell are you? From the way it was looking none of you are friends of Bonnie’s! I’m her best friend!! You had to have done something to upset her, she would have never said something like that or treated me that way! All of you are the ones who should leave!”

N’Jadaka moves to step forward, but James puts his hidden vibranium arm in front of him and says only one thing in a harsh warning tone. “Erik...” Causing Erik to suck on his teeth for a second then back down. While T’Challa steps forward with his hands up in the universal sign of peace. “Miss...” Caroline huffs out her answer to his silent question, “Caroline Forbes!” He immediately gives a soft smile, “Miss Forbes, I believe all of us need to leave Bonnie alone for the time being. If it makes you feel better we will get into our car first, but we will only be leaving after you drive away. She is important to our people and I will not risk something happening.” Caroline works her jaw as the gogs in her brain slowly turn, her eyes sharpen for a few seconds, but she quickly gives in and slowly, dejectedly nods.

None of them notice the whispers on the wind that one small young Bennett witch listens too as they all drive away, with a contemplating look in her eyes.

————

The next day has Bonnie working in the backyard harvesting the herbs, vegetables, and fruits that she needs. Bonnie gives absolutely no reaction to N’Jadaka’s presence as he walks around the back of the house. “You know it’s seen as extremely rude to not only invite yourself to someone’s house, especially not knocking on the front door.” She has to hide her slight smile upon hearing him huff out a laugh, “I’d love to knock on your front door kitten, the only problem is... I couldn’t seem to get on the first step.” Bonnie can sense the question in his words, but chooses to ignore it and continue her work. She can feel him watching her and gets quickly fed up witch a harsh huff Bonnie stops what she is doing, stands up, and turns to face him.

She has to give herself a few seconds to get accustomed to the height difference between the two of them, to put it simply... he dwarfs her. Not only in height, but in sheer muscle mass, she averts her eyes to try and hide the affect he’s having on her. Bonnie decides to chalk it up to the fact that she hasn’t had any direct human contact for a while. “Look N’Jadaka...” “Erik” His interruption causes her to blink, “What?” Erik let’s out a quiet huff while a smirk plays along his lips. “My colonizer name kitten, is Erik. I’d rather go by it than N’Jadaka... has a lot more pride in it than my other name does.”

Bonnie quietly mouths colonizer with a confused look, but decides that they can come back to that later. “Fine! Erik... just...” Bonnie let’s out breath and frowns as her eyes play across the plains of his face and the outdoors. “I don’t know why... but my ancestors like you and they say that I can trust you. Now I’m going to do something that I never do... I’m going to trust my ancestors.” She allows herself to walk up to him and look him directly in the eyes “and if you ever... and I mean ever break that trust. I will personally find a way to kill you, slowly, painfully, and only when your begging for mercy will I kill you... got it?” While she was talking her finger was poking him in the chest to help emphasize her words with a sickly sweet smile upon her face.

Erik gives a slow smile knowing that he shouldn’t find himself turned on by her threat, but he is. He allows himself to carefully grab the hand she was poking him with and holds onto it. Erik chooses to ignore the quiet gasp that escapes her lips... for the moment “You got it kitten, would you like me to explain what you were very unwilling to talk about yesterday with my cousin?” He watches completely fascinated as her eyelashes shadow her eyes while she thinks it over, when she looks up and focuses back on him, she gives a hesitant nod. “Okay, but your helping me with my garden... if we have to talk about something that I would rather never have to think about again, your going to be useful and help.” Her words pull a sharp laugh out of Erik, as he grins and gives a nod in acceptance.

Once she quickly shows him what do to and what to look for, they start working. As they work he explains everything to her, everything hidden from her, everything that her father has done... everything. It completely shatters her, it obliterates everything she thought she knew about her father and his side of the family, everything she thought she knew and understood about herself; it sends her completely into orbit. She doesn’t even realize that she is crying, nor does she realize that she is raging at Erik and upon his body. Her fists swinging to hit his chest as her magic angrily swirls around them. Bonnie feels as though she is shattered into a trillion shimmering atoms being carried away upon the wind. She can’t tell if she will ever find herself... how can she? Bonnie doesn’t think that she can gather the exploded pieces... how can she find them? They have scattered to the wind getting caught in the trees, falling to the streams of water to be carried and caught elsewhere. Bonnie can’t even feel Erik tightly holding her as he somehow carries her inside of her grans house. And eventually, much later into the night, he helps to pull her back together, but for now. He try’s to help hold together what little is left of Bonnie Shelia Bennett.

As her true name echoes through her entire being...

Ahnika...

————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. The second part is on its way! Peace, love, and joy!

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Whumptober 5: Where Do You Think You’re Going?

On the Run

I finally got around to writing something for my own damn AU, and it’s not even canon! I’m great at this.

Summary: Months after escaping from Prime Empire, Scott finds himself in Paris with none other than Unagami. It doesn’t go well. (This is of course part of the Miraculous crossover that I talk about sometimes on @blursed-ninjago-ideas)

Trigger Warnings: death threats, violence, panic attacks

4517 words

The years of his life Scott had lost to Prime Empire were hard to come to terms with. Every day he had been in there, he was well aware of the passage of time, but it was still the hardest thing he’d ever gone through.

Every day he had convinced himself that he would get out soon.

That first day, he was certain he’d be out by the end of the week. By the end of the week, he thought it couldn’t possibly be longer than a month.

It had gone on for years. Thirty, specifically.

Everyone he had ever known and loved had grieved and moved on. He had missed decades with them. His friends. His family. Everyone.

And it was all Unagami’s fault — right. Unagami was actually just a stupid little child who hadn’t really known what he was doing. He was supposed to be trying to get along with him, because he needed to be a role model or some shit.

Honestly, now that the kid wasn’t actively keeping him trapped inside a game for decades, he wasn’t all that bad. Sure, he could be a bit of a brat at times, but that was a phase that all children went through.

And apparently, he lowkey — that was the word Jay liked to use, right? He was so behind on the current slang — idolized Scott. Yeah, the child who’d been trying to turn him into a lifeless, numb, empty little energy cube for years and years and years, thought he was cool. That was… something, he supposed.

He was mostly doing this because Jay had all but begged him to. Said it made him a good person and he needed to let go of his anger.

Scott didn’t know if he would call it anger. He couldn’t bring himself to hate Unagami, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a little… well… uncomfortable around him. Yeah, that was definitely the right word.

But that was dumb. That debacle was finally over, and even if the nightmares and trauma didn’t go away, it wasn’t like Unagami acted malicious anymore. He wasn’t trying to kill anyone anymore.

So what if every time Unagami did much of anything, Scott’s grip on whatever it may have been that he was holding tightened enough to break a bone? That wasn’t that concerning. Everybody did that. Probably.

And hey, he could have had worse problems than scratching up his hands when he was nervous or anxious or really freaked out or really scared or flashing back to that cramped dark horrible nothingness when he was just lines of code trapped in a little energy cube with no way to get in or out or anything — and, uh, everyone had a random bad dream once in awhile. Or every night.

But he could put that aside, because he was a mature adult.

So here he was, babysitting an arcade-game-turned-boy, who was surprisingly energetic and very bright-eyed. 

“When are the ninja coming back?” Unagami asked, popping up from behind the couch.

Scott barely suppressed a surprised curse. This kid was way too light on his feet. “I don’t know,” he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Unagami, unlike most kids would, actually accepted that as an answer and went back to his BorgPad, tapping away at the screen.

The thing was, nobody had seen the ninja in a few weeks, now. Scott was beginning to get concerned. After Lloyd had disappeared — which had been information divulged to Scott privately by Jay, because they didn’t want the general public to know — the next few days had been spent in a raw panic. And then, total radio silence.

He hadn’t heard from the ninja since.

He hoped they were okay. He was a little too familiar with people disappearing only to never be heard from again. Well, not until thirty years after the fact.

He wasn’t bitter, not at all.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Scott asked, trying to get his mind off the subject. He was supposed to be taking care of the kid for the day, he might as well have been trying to make some sort of connection.

“Hacking the Hexagon!” Unagami said, looking up from his screen with a big smile.

Oh, that was nice — wait, what?

“Excuse me?” Scott asked, jumping over the back of the couch and crouching on the floor, where Unagami was sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce. Scott peered over his shoulder at the screen.

“If they didn’t want it hacked they shouldn’t have made it so easy,” Unagami shrugged.

Was it… was it normal for a child to be hacking into government facilities from a BorgPad?

Scott was going to go out on a limb and say no. …It was probably just an AI thing? Yeah, it was probably fine.

He watched for a moment as Unagami’s fingers flew across the screen, lines in a language Scott didn’t understand everywhere. He’d never had the ambition to learn how to code.

But damn, back before Prime Empire, people had hardly even dreamed of tech like this. 

It was kind of crazy.

Scott was going to be honest with himself. The BorgPad was cool. It had tons of features that were all put together onto one little device — texting and pictures and games and social media and more. It had everything.

But at the end of the day, it was just another reminder that Scott had missed out on so much while he’d been trapped inside the game. 

Back in his day, people had been perfectly content with “low quality” arcade games and flip phones. But now… well, people like Cyrus Borg were completely changing the world.

It was cool. But it stung.

“As long as you don’t get like, in trouble with the law or something. I don’t want Dyer buggin’.”

Unagami gave him a weird look, but slowly lowered his gaze back to the screen.

Right. People didn’t say that anymore, did they? His vocabulary was really outdated. He was really outdated.

He sighed, standing up and heading to the kitchen so he could make some tea. Jay had given him some, claiming it was really calming.

Scott could use a little of that right now.

The label was faded enough that it was basically unreadable. Scratch that, it was completely unreadable. Did tea expire…? Nah, Jay wouldn’t have given it to him if it was bad.

As the tea was brewing, Scott leaned against the counter, fiddling with his phone. It had been brand new technology at the time, and had been pretty expensive.

Now, according to Jay, it was “mega-outdated”. 

That hurt more than it should have. He remembered being so excited about this thing, but now it was nothing compared to the technology of today.

“You want some tea?” Scott asked when it was done, going for a mug.

“What does it taste like?” Unagami asked, setting aside his tablet and coming over to observe the tea with interest. 

“Uhh… I dunno, haven’t tried it yet,” he shrugged.

“I think I would like some, please.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Scott went to pour it, but as he was doing so, he found his mind wandering to wondering where the ninja had disappeared to again. It was strange that they had just —

“Is that supposed to be happening?” Unagami asked.

Scott looked down at the tea, concerned to see a bright glow spilling from the kettle. “Uh…” before he could come up with a rational answer, it brightened, all but blinding the two as it took over the room.

When it faded, there was nothing left but a broken mug on the floor.

———

What the fuck?

What had just happened?

The last thing Scott remembered had been sitting in the kitchen making tea, but now… now he was outside, near some giant metal tower, in a place he absolutely did not recognize.

He didn’t recognize the place, but he did recognize the feeling.

He was in a new realm.

The first thing he could feel was the panic.

Not again. Fuck! Not again. He couldn’t go through this another time, he couldn’t lose more of his life to a monster, he couldn’t — he couldn’t — he couldn’t breathe. He gripped the grass he was sitting on, practically hyperventilating.

“Scott? Are you alright?”

Oh first master, Unagami was here too.

“Get away from me!” he yelled, though he made no move to put distance between them. Instead, the little brat only came closer.

“You need to breathe.”

“I said get away—” Scott’s words died in his throat. Something was different. Something was wrong.

“Captain Clockwork,” a voice said, booming throughout his head.

“What’s going on?” Scott demanded.

“I am Hawk Moth. I can feel your distress. The anger, the grief, all of it. You just want things to go back to the way they used to be, don’t you?”

“Yes…” he found himself agreeing, nodding along.

“I can help you with that. I can give you the power to take back your life. All I need in return is for you to retrieve two pieces of jewelry for me, called the Miraculous. Do we have a deal?”

Scott didn’t even have to think twice. “Yes, Hawk Moth.”

——— 

Unagami was concerned.

Scott was freaking out, clearly on the verge of a panic attack, and nothing he was doing seemed to help. And then, out of nowhere, it just stopped.

And then Scott started talking to nobody, and then his body, for the briefest of moments, was enveloped in a purple so dark it may as well have been black.

When it was gone, Scott looked different. He was wearing an outfit that could only be described as old-timey-steampunk. 

It wasn’t that strange, considering that sort of stuff was perfectly normal in Prime Empire. Still, Unagami should probably make sure that Scott was okay.

“Scott?” he asked, stepping a little closer.

Scott glared at him dark enough to kill.

Wide-eyed, Unagami took a small step back. “Scott, what’s wrong? Who were you talking to? Is this a video game, like Prime Empire?”

“You would just love that, wouldn’t you?” Scott yelled. “You would just love to ruin even more people’s lives!”

“What?”

A ball of light burst into existence in Scott’s hand, which was closed tightly in a fist. He threw the light off to the side, launching at a huge television screen on the side of a building. Almost immediately, it turned into a box-style TV.

Scott smiled wickedly. “Oh, would you look at that? The power to downgrade tech. If I can do that to a TV, I wonder what will happen to a stupid. Little. Arcade game.”

Unagami narrowly dodged a blast from Scott following those words. “Scott, stop! You’re — you’re not in your right mind!”

“Oh, I’m in my right mind!” he screamed. “I’m finally free, and what am I met with but a world that moved on without me? You took away my life!”

“Scott, please, you are not thinking clearly!” Unagami said, desperate.

“Save it, you little brat! Now hold still so I can kill you!”

Unagami tripped, falling back into the grass. He scrambled back, doing his best to get to his feet, but regardless, Scott had the upper hand. He was done for.

He squeezed his eyes shut, accepting the inevitable.

Suddenly, he was being lifted, and then he was in the air. What?

He opened his eyes.

“I’ve got you!” a girl dressed in red spandex with black polka dots all over it said.

“What’s going on?” Unagami asked.

The girl looked confused. “Uh…” they came to a stop on a rooftop. It was then that a boy dressed in what looked like a leather catsuit joined them, vaulting up with an infinitely long pole.

“How do you do, M’lady?” he asked, smiling at the girl.

“Not now, Chat. I just saved this kid from the latest akuma, but I don’t think he’s speaking French.”

“Language barrier powers?” Chat asked. “That’s a new one.”

“I don’t know, from what I could tell, the akuma was speaking in the same language as him.”

“What’s going on?” Unagami demanded. “What happened to Scott?”

Chat frowned. “It sounds kind of like Japanese. But like, not quite? It sounds like Japanese on drugs.”

The girl sighed. “Wonderful description, Chat.”

“Thanks! I try.”

“Wait, I’ve heard this before! It sounds like that language the ninja speak!” The girl said.

“Oh yeah! Maybe they’re from the same place?”

Unagami tuned out their rambling, glancing over the edge of the roof to see if he could still see Scott. Luckily, he couldn’t.

Or was that unlucky?

Scott was the only person he knew here, but at the same time, he’d lost his mind out of nowhere. And now he was on some sort of evil… violent rampage… manhunt… chasing after him… well, that was uncomfortably familiar.

 “Okay, well, our miraculous allows him to understand us, I wonder why it doesn’t work the other way?” Chat glanced at Unagami. “You can understand us, right?”

Unagami gave a frustrated nod.

“Okay, well, do you know why that guy got akumatized?”

Unagami had absolutely no idea what that was, but it was clearly in reference to what had happened to Scott.

“I don’t think he does. We have to get back to fighting before this guy destroys half of Paris,” Chat said, tapping his wrist as if there was a watch there.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Scott yelled from the streets below.

“Oh, hey, that was French!” Chat said. “Akuma powers are awesome.”

The girl gave him an unimpressed frown.

Various balls of light were transforming technology into older versions of themselves left and right as Scott rampaged.

“Shit, okay, Chat, can you drop him somewhere away from the akuma?”

“Sure thing Bugaboo!” Chat said with a wide grin. He held out a hand to Unagami. “Hold on tight, kid.”

———

Ladybug landed in front of the akuma gracefully, her yo-yo at her side.

“Ladybug, I presume,” the akuma said.

“That would be right.”

The akuma glared at her. “Look, I don’t particularly want to hurt you. Just hand over the earrings and the kid, and I’ll be on my way.”

“What do you want with him?” Ladybug asked, eyes narrowed. “What could he possibly have done?”

The akuma laughed, and it started low, but it quickly gained a touch of psycho, edging on hysteria. “What didn’t he do?” He yelled, his arms widely gesturing — though his right hand stayed tightly closed. That could be important. “He kept me trapped in a video game for decades. He made me live every day in fear that it would be my last! He ruined my life! He took everything from me!”

Well… fuck.

That was actually a pretty valid reason to be upset with somebody. But how on earth had that happened in the first place? Well, the details didn’t matter. She had an akuma to fight.

Against all reason, Ladybug decided to try getting through to the poor guy. “You don’t have to do this! Hawk Moth is manipulating you!”

“I don’t care!” He screamed. “He made me into Captain Clockwork! He gave me the power to take back my life!”

He threw a blast of energy at Ladybug, which she only barely managed to deflect with her yo-yo. It bounced back to what looked like a brand new car, which immediately turned into a station wagon.

Oh boy.

“Time has moved forward without me. I don’t fit into this world, so I’m gonna make this world fit me!”

She needed to figure out what to break. Whatever he was holding, that could be it.

Unceremoniously, Chat dropped from the sky, landing in a heap next to her.

“I did not get that right…” he muttered, getting to his feet with some difficulty. “What’s the plan, M’lady?”

“I don’t know, but I think the akuma is in whatever he’s holding. We need to get him to drop it.”

“May I offer a distraction in these trying times?”

Ladybug smiled.

“Hey, the future isn’t all that bad!” Chat exclaimed, dramatically vaulting himself to be behind the akuma so that he had to turn around and his attention was off of Ladybug, while she quietly summoned her lucky charm.

“We’ve got video games! And bullet trains, and iPhones, and — ooh, we’ve got anime! It still baffles me that people ever managed to live without anime. A tragedy, really.”

Captain Clockwork glared at him. “We had video games and anime back in my day. It was good enough, it didn’t have to change!”

“That’s sort of the way of life, buddy,” Chat shrugged, batting away a blast with his baton.

“It shouldn’t be! I shouldn’t have gotten left behind!” he screamed, sending blasts of energy one after the other at Chat.

“Left behind?” Chat asked, lowering his guard slightly when the akuma, breathing heavily, stopped firing.

“That boy you stole away just a few minutes ago,” Captain Clockwork said, laughing hysterically. “He kept me trapped inside a video game, for thirty years. Thirty years! It’s not fair! It’s not fair! I’ll kill him!”

“How did a little boy trap you in a video game?” Chat asked, legitimately curious.

“He is the game! He ruled Prime Empire! He ruined my life!” 

Chat was regretting asking, because now the akuma was backing him into a corner, his fist glowing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever battled an akuma so full of pure rage before.

Chat extended his baton, sweeping it under the akuma’s feet and knocking him to the ground.

“This is so cool!” Alya shouted from across the street, filming with her iPhone.

“Alya,” Nino all but begged. “We gotta get to safety!”

“But I’m getting some great footage on this thing!”

Captain Clockwork growled, blasting violently at the pair. Alya’s brand new, expensive phone immediately reverted to a flip phone.

The way Alya screamed would have suggested someone had been murdered. “No!” she shrieked, being dragged away by Nino.

“Phones don’t need to be able to record! Just use a fucking video camera! They didn’t have to change it!” Captain Clockwork yelled, running after Alya.

That got the couple’s attention enough to start running.

Chat put himself between them, crying out when he intercepted a blast.

“Chat!” Ladybug yelled.

Chat grunted, rolling with great difficulty away from the akuma.

His baton immediately grew in length, turning into what looked like a perfectly regular, non-magical, old-fashioned baton.

“Oh fuck.”

“Hand over the ring and I won’t hurt you,” Captain Clockwork demanded.

“Sorry, I’ve got a contract,” Chat replied, using the baton as a sort of cane to help him get to his feet again.

He didn’t manage to dodge the next blast, which turned his magical very technologically advanced leather suit into a hoodie and a cheap pair of sweatpants. 

Panic gripped him, and he quickly went to feel for his mask. Oh, thank god, it was still there.

Captain Clockwork charged up another blast, but before he could use it, Ladybug grabbed Chat and swung her yo-yo, getting them both away and into a back alley.

“Are you okay, Kitty?” she asked, setting him down gently.

“I’m alright,” he affirmed. “I need to detransform, make sure Plagg is alright. Maybe when I retransform it’ll go back to normal?”

Ladybug purposefully turned around.

“Claws in,” he said.

Immediately, Ladybug could hear a low groan from her partner’s kwami.

“Here,” Chat muttered, presumably offering him some food.

“Thanks. God that really hurt…” Plagg muttered.

“It did?” Chat cried, worry seeping into his voice. “Are you okay? How can I help?”

“I’ll be fine, Kitten,” Plagg said, laughing somewhat through the now very obvious pain. “Just defeat this guy and you can buy me some extra nice cheese to make up for it.”

Chat laughed. “Sure thing Plagg. Claws out!”

Ladybug waited a moment, then turned back around. Luckily, Chat had been right, and his suit was back to normal. “Okay, so we’ve got my lucky charm, but I still don’t know how to use it. Did you learn anything about the akuma?”

“Well, apparently the kid he was trying to obliterate trapped him in a game for thirty years,” Chat shrugged. “I dunno if that’s important though.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. He keeps screaming about it every chance he gets. But as long as we free the akuma, he’ll be fine. Did you happen to see what he was holding?”

“It looked kind of like a phone, but like, one of those really old flippy ones. Like the ones they used in High School Musical!”

Ladybug sighed. “Well, that’s something. Actually, my lucky charm is a flip phone.”

“That’s weird… think he’d like that?”

“Wait! I have a plan.”

———

Meanwhile, Unagami was hiding behind a trashcan as Scott got closer and closer to his whereabouts. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears.

“Unagami,” Scott called out, his voice sickly sweet and too high in pitch. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

Unagami held his breath, praying Scott didn’t find him.

“Isn’t it ironic?” Scott asked, something out of Unagmai’s sight crashing loudly. “The hunter becomes the prey. Bet you never thought you’d get retribution, huh?”

He hadn’t meant to ruin Scott’s life. He’d just been following his father’s instructions. He’d apologized. He thought Scott had forgiven him. He’d acted like he had.

Had he felt like this the whole time?

Angry and hurt and wanting to kill him?

And… was this how Scott had felt while trapped in Prime Empire?

Scared for his life, fearing every second that it could be his last? Keeping himself hidden away for years with the constant terror that he would be found?

The trashcan was thrown, and there was Scott.

“Found you.”

“I’m sorry—” Unagami said.

“Save it! Sorry doesn’t make up for the lost time! Sorry doesn’t make up for the fear I lived in! Sorry doesn’t fix things!”

He charged a blast.

Out of nowhere, a bright blue tornado threw Scott across the street.

It slowed to a stop, revealing none other than the blue ninja. “Unagami?” he said, bewildered. “How are you here?”

“Why are you defending him?” Scott screamed. “He trapped you too! He took all of your friends! He hunted you down like a wild animal! Aren’t you angry?”

“Scott? Jay cried, even more bewildered than before. “What the… wait, but Unagami is just a kid! Sure, he caused a lot of pain, but it wasn’t his fault! And he’s done all he can to make it right!” “That’s not good enough!”

“Ice to see you!” Zane yelled, dropping down from the rooftop.

Scott growled, charging a blast of energy. “Just let me kill the little brat! He’s not human! He’s not a person! What difference does it make?”

Unagami froze.

Scott… didn’t see him as a person? All this time?

He thought they had been bonding. He had thought… well, he hadn’t thought they were friends, exactly, but he had at least thought… 

It was true that he wasn’t human, but Unagami had likened himself to Zane. They weren't human, but they were still people. But that wasn’t how Scott saw it at all. And he had never known.

Zane screamed out as he was hit with a blast. The light encompassed him, and suddenly he was left with rusty copper skin.

Unagami’s eyes widened in horror.

“I — I — I — do not feel — Jay — I cannot — what is happening?” Zane stammered, his voice box glitching heavily.

“I can downgrade tech,” Scott said, laughing darkly. “You’re tech.”

“Scott, this isn’t you!” Jay attempted. “You’re better than this!”

“I don’t want to be better than this!” he yelled. He threw Jay to the side, completely knocking the boy unconscious.

With Zane unable to even move, Unagami was about to die.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said.

“Hurt doesn’t care about intention.”

In what was either the best or the worst timing ever, the boy from before — Chat — waltzed over to them casually. “You were right, Captain Clockwork!” he exclaimed loudly. “Old technology is better! I’m just surprised that you didn’t notice I took your phone!” he said, waving around an old flip phone.

“What?” Scott — Captain Clockwork? — gasped, opening his fist. “No you didn’t, it’s right here?”

But then it wasn’t. Ladybug’s yo-yo string wrapped around it, and yanked it hard.

“No!”

Ladybug snapped the phone in half easily. “No more evil-doing for you, little akuma. Time to de-evilize!” she declared, catching the butterfly — Unagami wasn’t even going to ask why a butterfly had come out of Scott’s phone — easily. “Gotcha!” she set the butterfly free, and in a stark contrast to the previous shade of sickly purple it had been, it was now a pure white. “Bye bye, little butterfly.”

Scott fell to the ground, his new avatar — or whatever it was — dropping.

“Miraculous ladybug!” Ladybug shouted, throwing the fake phone into the air. A swarm of butterflies took over, somehow undoing all the damages that Scott had caused.

Honestly, it was far from the strangest thing Unagami had experienced recently.

———

Scott came to on the sidewalk. Hadn’t he just been near some big metal tower thing? And how had he blacked out in the first place? What the hell?

“What… what happened?” he groaned, unable to get to his feet. 

Zane — when had Zane gotten here? — said something in what sounded like another language.

“Everything’s alright now, sir!” a girl dressed as what looked something like a superhero said, smiling gently at him. “You don’t know what an akuma is, do you?”

Again, Zane repeated her question, this time looking at him. Ah, he was the translator.

“No…?”

Her and a boy in a leather catsuit shared a look.

“A bad man called Hawk Moth took advantage of you,” the boy explained, reaching out a hand and helping Scott to his feet. “You were feeling some kind of negative emotion, and he used that to turn you into a supervillain.”

A supervillain? What kind of negative emotion could he have been — 

He spotted Unagami, who was staring at him in nothing short of terror from against the brick wall of a building. Oh yeah.

“What did I do?” 

“Nothing that couldn’t be undone,” the girl assured. “All property damages have been magically repaired, so you don’t have to worry!”

“It’s not the property damages I’m worried about,” Scott muttered, looking at Unagami, guilty all but stabbing him through the heart. The kid looked traumatized.

Before anyone could say anything else, Unagami ran. Jay immediately went after him, but the others stayed behind.

Scott knew that if he went, he would only make things worse. “Please, just… what did I actually do?”

By the end of the recap, Scott had sunk back to the ground. 

There wasn’t really a way to fix this, was there?

[softyoongiionly]

Mundane 🏡

Fridays are meant to be celebrated. However, after long week at the office and a stupid fight with your husband, you’re unsure of how much you’ll be able to celebrate. For better or for worse though...right?

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut (18+ only please), slight angst, fluff, there may or may not be a little bit of a crossover in this pic and, if you pick up on it, I LOVE YOU. (and also Yoongi, I love Yoongi), established relationship!, husband! Yoongi, Musician! Yoongi

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Smut, language, slight angst (y’all already know I only do happy endings on this blog)

A/N: Helloooo this is one of the final parts in the days of the week series and, it’s not fully edited so please forgive any typos for now. I wanted to get it up before the end of the night. LOVE YOU.

Friday night.

Thank God.

You had been working tirelessly on your latest community outreach project for the past 5 days and, according to your timesheet, you had logged 60 hours for the week.

20 hours of overtime, 4 hours of sleep and, the constant threat of your project deadline have left you feeling completely and totally drained.

The train ride home seems to drag on and on and, rather than staring at your phone, you’ve taken to staring out of the window at the blur of colors rushing by.

The leaves are changing colors.

The air is growing crisper.

You should feel cozy.

But, you don’t

You’re stressed, your hair is growing greasy, your patience is paper thin and, your heart…well…

That’s another thing entirely.

Your Thursday evening had ended on a rather sour note.

There was an arduous and exhausting argument that transpired between you and the only person in the world who was more stubborn than you were: your husband.

Yoongi was a patient and, collected man. He rarely ever lost his temper but, when he did, he was nothing short of impossible.  

It was a stupid argument, an argument born out of longing for one another. You don’t remember much of what initiated it, you just know it ended with Yoongi accusing you of undermining his work and, you accusing him of not being attracted to you anymore.

Truly ridiculous claims.

You were Yoongi’s number one fan and, he was so attracted to you that he often chooses to avoid you, lest he get distracted from his work.  

Nothing was truly amiss in your marriage; there were just not enough hours in the day.  

Not enough time to indulge in one another, not with both of you being complete workaholics.  

Yoongi slept on the couch last night, an extremely rare occurrence. You fell asleep clutching your pillow, wishing it was your husband’s lithe body in your arms…

He always liked being the little spoon, although he’d never admit it.

Your heart felt soggy in your chest and, you sniffle slightly, holding back the tears that threatened your eyes as your train squeaks to a stop.

Home was near and, while you were eager to unwind, the nerves bubbling in your stomach distracted from that desire.

The bustling noise of the city streets were far too much for you to handle. Everything was so loud. The talking, the scrapping of suitcases and umbrellas against the linoleum made you dizzy.  

Fuck…umbrellas.  

The nasally voice of the weather forecaster echoes in your mind, it was due to rain this evening.

Yoongi always puts the news on when he gets ready in the morning and, you remember hearing it through the wall of the bedroom along with the rustling of his things.

Woefully unprepared, you begin the ascent up the subway staircase, the tell-tale pattering of rain confirming your fears.

You were going to be soaked by the time you reached home.

Soaked, was an understatement…

Your teeth chatter as you shakily attempt to unlock the front door, hugging your bag tightly to you, to prevent any further water damage.  

Successfully, you manage to swing open the door, huffing in frustration as you haphazardly hang your things up by the door, shrugging your soaking wet coat off in the process.  

Your home was much warmer in temperature but, the atmosphere feels cold and unwelcoming.  

The sheets of music that are littered on the dining table and, a messenger bag hanging over the back of the chair however, let you know that you are not alone.

Yoongi must have made it home before you a rare occurrence considering he is the most sought after musician in the city and, it was Friday night.

Another throb pushes through your heart.

Of course, the one-time both of you had a night off together; it had to be after an unresolved argument.  

“I left the umbrella out for you, why didn’t you take it?” You jump in your bones slightly as a familiar voice fills the silence.

Yoongi is sitting on the floor of the living room, dressed in a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, another pile of music strewn about in front of him. Dark eyes are flitting over you and, while he’s attempting to look disinterested, you can tell he’s concerned for you.

You nod, setting your cell phone on the kitchen counter, “I didn’t realize you’d left it out, I should have looked though, thank you anyway…”  

His brows shift, unimpressed, “You’re going to get sick…”

With a sigh, you shrug, not wanting to deal with his cold demeanor, you couldn’t stomach it, “I’m sorry, I’ll keep my distance if that happens…”

Yoongi had a fear of getting sick, as sickness would prevent him from getting gigs which would lead to less financial contribution on his end.  

However, your response takes him back and, his face turns up in annoyance, “You’d still be sick regardless, which is my concern…”

Your hands raise, conceding with him but, you could also feel yourself getting annoyed, “Yeah, I get it. I’ll take some Vitamin C tonight…”

He lets it go, sensing your irritation, his own heart clenching in his chest, “There’s some in the bathroom cupboard. I’m sorry you got rained on…”

Relaxing slightly, you throw  a half smile his way, “It’s ok. It woke me up, I was ready to get home and pass out. These hours are killing me…”

There is a breathless laugh that leaves Yoongi’s mouth but, it isn’t genuine. It’s a curtesy and, an attempt to distract the two of you from what really needs to be said.

“I feel you. I don’t remember the last time I was home on a Friday…” He’s nodding, eyes flitting around the room, lips pursing for a moment before he settles his gaze on you.

You return his nod, letting out another breath, “It’s been awhile,” The shiver that wracks your body, reminds you that you’re still wearing wet clothes and, you gesture towards the door to your shared bedroom, “I gotta change really quick, I’m freezing…”

He nods, leaving you to it, his gaze turning back to the music laid out in front of him. Yoongi knows he needs to say something to you but, he’s too exhausted and frustrated to articulate himself.  

All he knows is that he misses you.  

That’s the real issue here.  

Your both adults and, you have responsibilities and, shit to tend to but, lately, Yoongi has been yearning for the days when you both were still dating.

Not because, he feels any differently about you but, because, things were different back then.  

Everything was so much fun. The late nights you’d both spend endlessly talking to one another, the random road trips and adventures, the sex…

Good lord, the sex…

Yoongi had never been much of a sexual person before he met you. He knew he enjoyed it but, you, you had been his sexual awakening.  

It was constant, playful, sensual, messy, addicting; it captivated him.  

You captivated him.

He’s realizing now that, he’s being an idiot.  

You’re still that same couple.  

You’re just older now and, not even by that much.

He’s been letting adulthood get too far in the way of what really matters: you.  

You and, the people he loves.  

That’s it.  

Stress really shapes a different world.

His train of thought is interrupted by you strolling into the living room wearing nothing but, his old college hoodie and, a pair of black boy shorts.  

Fuck.  

He smirks to himself, fingers fumbling with the edges of the music sheet before he speaks, “Don’t you own any of your own sweatshirts?”

If you didn’t notice the smirk on Yoongi’s mouth, you would have taken his comment seriously but,  instead you return his expression, leaning against the counter, “I do but, this one tends to weaken your resolve so, I made an executive decision to steal it…”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “My resolve has been fucked for a few years now…I don’t think the thievery was necessary...”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, admiring the way the stretched out collar of his t-shirt exposes his collar bones, “You still have quite a bit…you slept on the couch last night…”

Yoongi feels his heart clench at your words. He knows that his choice to sleep alone had truly hurt you.

You never wanted to go to bed angry at one another and, you made him promise when the two of you got engaged that it would rarely happen.  

He sighs, teeth nibbling on his lip, “You’re right. That was kind of a dick move wasn’t it?”

Feeling small under his gaze, you nod, fingers playing with the sleeves of the hoodie, “Major dick move…especially sense its colder out. I was freezing…”

He pouts then, an overwhelming amount of fondness enveloping his heart. He opens his arms to you, pushing his music aside, “ Shit…c’mere…”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully before, giving in, unable to resist your husband, your heart desperately needing his affection.  

Yoongi smiles triumphantly as you saunter over to his place on the floor.  

He’s warm and, tender as you sit in his lap, your hands sliding slowly up the length of his torso, fingers squeezing his tense shoulders as you reach them.  

He still melts underneath your touch and, he only wish you understood that.

Yoongi’s mountainous hands eagerly slid up your thighs, securing themselves on your hips, his expression still dejected but fond as he looks up at you, “There she is...hi”

You smile softly down at him, something wordless moving between the two of you, “Hi…”

He bites his lip, eyes turning all kind of soft as he admires you, his hands squeezing your hips as a regrettable expression covers his face, “I’m sorry about last night…I hate arguing with you.”

Nodding sagely, you push a hand through his freshly washed black hair, admiring the texture of it sans any sticky hair product, “I know, so do I. I’m sorry too, I could have handled things differently.”  

He turns to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist, inhaling the faint scent of your perfume, causing you to giggle.

“ Creep…”

He chuckles, retaliating my biting you, his somber expression faltering, “Says the one who insists on wearing my shit so, she can smell my cologne…”

Another giggle leaves your lips as you cuddle in closer to him, “Shut up…”

Yoongi chuckles again, releasing your wrist before one of his hands comes up to brush a bit of hair out of your face, “I miss you…”

A simple phrase leaves his mouth but, both of you know it means so much more.  

You haven’t had a moment like this, a genuine, intimate moment, in months.  

“I miss you too,” You lean against his hand, shifting slightly on his lap, “Did you eat dinner yet?”  

He shakes his head, returning his hand to your hip, “No, I was waiting for you. Are you hungry?”  

You nod as you lean forward, tucking your face into his neck, wanting to feel closer to him. He chuckles but, slides his hands up, rubbing your back tenderly.

“Yeah, me too. Is there something you’re in the mood for? We don’t have a lot of groceries in the house…”

You smirk to yourself before worming your way between the two of you, hooking a finger underneath the band of Yoongi’s sweats tugging at it playfully.

He jumps slightly at the sensation, laughing in disbelief, “Yah! What do you think you’re doing huh?”

You giggle, feeling a swarm of warmth in your chest, “You asked me what I was in the mood for…”

Yoongi, still chuckling, untucks your face from his neck, directing a stern and, playful gaze toward you, “You’re saying you want my dick for dinner then?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” You concede giggling again, before squealing as he pinches your hips.

He smirks, brows raised to challenge you, “Are you being serious?”

“We haven’t had sex in two months, of course I’m serious…”

Yoongi feels the familiar sensation of arousal starting at the tips of his toes.

It’s been so long since the two of you were intimate.

Way too fucking long.  

He bites his lip, eyes darkening slightly, before patting your hips, “Good point…lets go…”

Giddiness strikes the pit of your stomach as you scramble off of his lap, holding a hand out to help him up.  

He takes it, chuckling at your eagerness as the two of you make your way to the bedroom.  

Yoongi rushes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing the tent in his sweats up against your ass.  

You spin around in his arms, holding his cheeks in your hands, practically bursting as he smiles, gums peeking out underneath his top lip.

“Kiss meeeee…” You whine playfully as he chuckles, leaning in towards your mouth, hints of mint on his mouth.

Yoongi obliges, kissing at you tenderly, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth, “Did you brush your teeth when you got home?”

He always does, he brushes them like four times a day…

“Yeah I did, I had pasta for lunch so, you should be thanking me….” He murmurs, smirking into the kiss as he walks you backwards toward your shared bed.  

You laugh at that, not pressing the issue you further as you fall back against the bed. Yoongi clambers on top of you, nestling between your legs, pressing hips into your aching core, causing a sight to leave your lips.

“I’m really hard…jesus…” Yoongi whispers, chuckling in disbelief as he feels himself twitch against your pussy. The only thing separating  the two of you being the thin material of your boy shorts.  

You spread your legs wider, giving him better access to you, as you stare up at him playfully, your hand reaching out to palm him through his sweats, squeezing him gently. Yoongi lurches forward, his fingers digging into the pillow case on either side of your head.  

“You trying to make me cum in my pants or something?” He chuckles, eyes alight with arousal , his words causing you to slip your hand into his sweats. Your bite your lip as your fingers encase his throbbing length into your grip, starting at the base of him before slowly squeezing and stroking all the up to the tip of him. A dribble of precum surfaces then, his hips pushing completely against your hand.  

“Wouldn’t be the first time…”You quip, holding his hazy gaze and, he chuckles at that, nodding, his hips rocking in succession with your hand.  

You continue to stroke him and although he would much rather be instead of you, Yoongi is reluctant to stop you from touching him. It’s been so long, he feels his whole body growing warm and tingly at your touch.  

“That feels so good….” He whispers genuinely, head hanging back on his shoulders a bit, the ghost of  a smirk still on his mouth, “ I’m really trying to be inside of you right now though….”

You smirk at that, slowly pulling your hand off of him before reaching for the hem of your underwear, “Get inside then…”

His eyes open and, his teeth gnaw against his lip as he glances down between your legs. Yoongi pauses momentarily before sliding his hands up the outside of your thighs, hitching his fingers underneath the hem of your boy shorts and, sliding them off.

As he leans down, you can feel the hotness of his breath, clenching at the sensation, your clit throbbing in anticipation. He flattens his tongue against your entrance before pushing it all the way up the length of your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and, placing a kiss to the top of you.  

“Fuck…I’m definitely gonna want some of that later.” He whispers, smiling to himself as he places a few kisses all over your hips.  

Your heart is picking up in your chest, aroused beyond belief as you giggle down at him, pushing your hips against his face, “You can eat it after you’ve fucked it…”

Yoongi blazes at your comment, sighing out in disbelief before biting your hip, causing you to yelp at the sensation, “Watch your mouth….”

He always says that but, he never means it, its his way of coping with the way your words affect him. Pinching the shoulders of his t-shirt, your husband pulls it off, revealing himself to you.  

As you’re attempting to reign in your desire to salivate over his body, he smirks, nodding to you, “Take it off for me, I wanna see you…”

You oblige, pulling the hoodie off of you, your nipples perking up at the change of temperature. Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose to control his reaction before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance.

“Good?” His eyes are practically black as they flit to yours, arousal evident in his body language but, he still asks none the less.  

He always does.

“Yeah but, I want you closer, come here…” You grumble, reaching out for him and, he laughs shakily, leaning down to you, elbows on either side of your head.

“Better?” He murmurs against your lips, pecking them twice in succession. At the nod of your head, he reaches down, stroking his dick a few times before slowly pushing himself inside of you.  

The stretch of him is so familiar and, yet, still so good at the same time., your body opening up to him immediately. Yoongi instantly melts into you, lowering himself all the way down so the two of you are pressed tightly together.  

He nudges your nose playfully, slowly starting to rock into you, pleasure all over his face, “Doesn’t hurt right? You’re good?”

He knows it’s been awhile and, your comfort is always a big concern of his.

It always has been…

You brush his hair from his face, a blissful smile etching onto your lips, “More than good, you feel…ah…”  A moan pushes up your throat and, you laugh at the interruption, “You feel so good…”

Yoongi chuckles, admiring the way the pleasure looks on your face, “So good huh? Did you miss me?”

Nodding immediately, you kiss at his lips, hips moving with his rhythm, back arching slightly.

“Did you miss me?” You whisper against his lips, running a hand through his hair, your other free hand bracing on the side of cheek.

He smiles, nudging your nose, his eyes lulling as the pleasure begins to seep further and further into his senses, “I missed you so much.”

Yoongi kisses down your chin before working his way into your neck, alternating between gentler and firmer sucks against your skin.  

His hips are increasing their rhythm and, you feel yourself slowly slipping towards the edge. Your pussy is tightening around Yoongi’s length and, the soft groan that leaves your husbands throat lets you know that he can feel it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He whispers, kissing his way up to your ear, nibbling on the lobe it of, his hips pumping into you harder.  

“That’s definitely part of the plan...” You moan, smirking playfully up at your husband.

His hair is starting to stick to his forehead, his chest and collar bones have a slight sheen of sweat upon them and, his mouth is turned up in a pleasure induced smile, “Ok well, my dick is throbbing right now so, either you stop clenching or, I have to....ugh...”  

His sentence falters as you clench again, just to spite him and, he immediately pinches your side, causing you grab his hand, giggling as you bring his fingers to your mouth, “Or you have to what...”

Yoongi’s rhythm is slowing down as his eyes are suddenly very entranced by what you’re mouth is currently doing to his fingers. You suck his middle digit between your lips, laving your tongue around the curves and lines of it, hollowing out your cheeks just as you would if your mouth was wrapped around another part of him.

“Stop...you can’t do shit like that if you expect me to last jagi...” Yoongi’s gnawing on his lip again and, you feel his dick twitch inside of you as he feels you nibble on the tip of his finger.

“Yoongi...harder...” You moan against his finger tips, trying to reach your high whilst also driving him crazy.

“Harder?” He sighs out the word, brows going up as he starts fucking into you with more fervor, “Like that?”

You nod as you wrap your hands around your husbands body, holding him tighter to you as you fuck him back, ensuring your hips clash at the same time.

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum...” Yoongi whimpers hopelessly into your neck, hips moving on their own accord as he holds onto you.

“Me too...me too, fuck...Yoongi...”  

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

The two of you are wrapped up in one another moments later.

Shaky breath, the sound of the fan in your bedroom and Yoongi’s slightly unsteady heartbeat are all you can hear at the moment.  

You haven’t felt peace like this in quite some time and, you’re relishing in the feeling between you and the man laying on your chest.

“I don’t want to go that long without you again, if that’s cool. That shit sucked...”

You smile softly at Yoongi’s assertion, kissing the side of his head, “We’ll be better at balancing from now on, it’s great that we’re doing so well at work but, we have to make time for eachother too...”

You feel him nod, his arms tightening around your waist as he burrows further into you.

"I love you.”  

“I love you too Yoongi.”

The silence lingers for a few more minutes before you speak up, “Do you wanna order in tonight?”

“Sounds good...what do you want?”  

As you look down at the man you love, a swarm of memories envelops you as you choose your answer, “Dumplings, from Green Terrace...”

The biggest, gummiest smile erupts on your husbands face but, you can’t see it, he just presses his lips to your chest, holding back a bit of a emotion that lingers in his throat.

“Dumplings it is.”  

Dumplings forever.

[darklingichor]

Odd Thomas, Forever Odd & Brother Odd by Dean Koontz *MAJOR SPOILERS* Long post

I've written a little bit about these before. My goal was to listen to all seven of the Odd books plus the two short stories... I couldn't make myself do that.

I use to really love those books. I use to really love Dean Koontz, just recently, the writing has started to annoy me. Since I haven't read any of his new stuff since Saint Odd came out, I can't say it's because the writing has changed. I think I have changed, I'm just not sure in what way. So, I'm going to look at the first three books in the series because 1. I like them the most (sort of). 2. Because I honestly feel like the series should have either ended there or jumped to Saint Odd. 3. Because I'm going to see if by writing about them, I can figure out why reading Koontz in my 20's was like a breath of fresh air, but in my 30's it feels like when the air conditioner is some how making everything too cold, yet not cooling things down at all: uncomfortable and bafflingly frustrating.

Odd Thomas is a 20 year old fry cook in the small california desert town of Pico Mundo. He's seen as sweet but strange to all but a few people in town. He grew up with a mostly absent father, a crazy mother and a loving but wild grandmother, the last has already gone to the great beyond, so what family he has, he has found.

He has a girlfriend named Stormy, they've been together since they were sixteen, his boss at the Grill where he works, Terry, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Elvis Presley, a 300 lb mystery writer named P. Oswald Boone (Little Ozzie), his landlady who is afraid she'll turn invisible, and the cheif of police.

Odd also sees ghosts, or The Lingering Dead as he calls them. He trys to help them crossover. Sometimes it's as simple as talking to them (though they don't speak back, "the dead don't talk")  oftentimes is complicated and dangerous. Hence why his close relationship with the cheif comes in handy and also why it formed. He has other gifts. The occasional prophetic dream that usually only gives him bits and pieces to work off of, he sees these spectors of calamity that tend to show up right before something bad happens (like an earthquake or a shooting) they are black shadow things that Odd calls Bodochs, and psychic magmatism, where  he can find anyone he's looking for by wondering around with a clear picture in mind.

Everyone in his circle knows about his gift other than his landlady who is slightly and gently insane.

There is one other person in his circle, the ghost of Elvis who Odd had been trying to help crossover since he was in highschool.

The first book takes place over the course of three days.

To avoid a blow by blow, I'll summarize. After an eventful morning during which he helped a murdered twelve year old cross over by catching her killer, Odd goes to his shift a the Grill. There, he sees a creepy little man that reminds him if a mold and fungus, followed by a group of Bodochs. He finishes his shift, goes looking for the guy he's dubed Fungus Man.

He eventually finds his way to Fungus Man's house, breaks in and finds it unnaturally cold and silent. He discovers a room that is pitch black except for a small red light. He soon finds that what has made this room so black and the house so cold and quiet is the mob of Bodochs occupying it. After the Bodochs stream out, Odd is able to see that the room is an office and Fungus Man (aka Bob Roberts) is obsessed with serial and mass murderers, he has a file cabinet full of folders on them and posters of famous murders on his wall. Bob seems to be planning something, but Odd doesn't know what, as his only clue is a planner page in a folder from the killer cabinet. The folder is labeled with Bob's name and the date is two days away.

A series of happenings eventually leads to odd trying to stop a horrifying plan

*SPOILERS STOP READING RIGHT HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE END*

So, Bob is a satanist in cahoots with a couple of other satanists to shoot up and blow up the Pico Mundo mall, among other places. He is able to stop them from completing their goal, but some people do die, including Stormy who was working at an ice cream shop at the mall.

Forever Odd

It's months later and Odd has moved into Stormy's apartment. He wakes up to find the ghost of one of his best friends's stepdad at his bedside. Strangely, Danny, a guy with brittle bone disease, with whom Odd grew up, was not mentioned in the last book.

So, the ghost of Danny's stepdad convinces Odd to go to his and Danny's house. Once there, Odd finds stepdad's body and discovers that Danny has been kidnapped.

What follows is a slightly weird story.

Odd eventually finds Danny and his kidnappers. One is a bug-shit woman Danny was talking with on a phone sex line. To impress her he told her about Odd. She's into her own twisted form of the Vudun religion and decides that Odd can show her the lingering dead and wants him become one of her crew. She kidnapped Danny to lure him out.

Danny is rescued, bad guys defeated, and Odd decides he needs to get out of Pico Mundo for a while.

Brother Odd

Odd has spent the last several months at the St. Bartholomew's Abbey, in the California Mountains, as a lay visitor among the monks and nuns. The Abbey is also home to a a community of disabled children. Odd becomes  close with four people in particular The Mother superior, The Priest at the head of the monks, Brother Knuckles, an ex mob guy turned monk, and Brother John, a wealthy guy turned monk. Only the first three know of his gift.

Waiting up to see a snow storm break, Odd finds Brother Timothy unconscious or dead on the grounds. He is then clubbed on the back of the head and knocked out. A search for Brother Tim leads to a strange mix of science and the spiritual that I for one found really cool.

** SECOND SPOILER**

Elvis crosses over in this one and Odd contemplates becoming a monk. Two reasons I think that this should have been the last one. Another reason is that he comes very very close to connecting with Stormy though a conduit to the otherside. Third, this is the last book where Odd is truly Odd.

See, Odd hates guns and will only use one as a last resort. In the first, Odd takes out most of the bad guys with a baseball bat, in the second, bug-shit lady was killed by a cougar, the bad guy in this one was killed by someone else.

Although his ability to see and help the lingering dead is not the main focus of the second or the third, it's still something he does. There is character progression from the first to the third. When we meet Odd he is trying to carve out a life dispite his traumatic childhood and while trying to do right with the gifts he has. After he loses Stormy, the second commitment becomes more intense, because of his conviction that the only way he will meet Stormy on the other side is to live his life in the best way he can, and that means using his gifts to help people. He's sadder, slightly less heedful of danger, but still fully committed to flighting the good flight, in his unconventional way.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, in the fourth through the seventh, the train is derailed, possessed, and also on fire.

Not only does his primary gift take a back seat, but the fight he is flighting isn't between the forces of good and evil, or even between justice and injustice, it's a culture war.

And the side of the war that Odd is on is peopled with climate change deniers, dooms day prepers, anti-government people who supply other "good guys" with guns,  other anti-personnal gear, tech that circumvents federal guidelines. All the "bad guys" are anyone with any sort of power judges, lawyers, cops, corporations, politicians. Their victims are the hard working Americans, the waitresses, the truck drivers... Strike that. The victims are the Christian hardworking Americans who evedently are being "persecuted in their own country" (this might be a different rant for a different blog but I maintain that there is a big difference between Persecution and Denial of Entitlement. Persecution is being in danger of being harassed, hurt, killed or imprisoned for your beliefs, ethnicity or culture. And when that happens justice is less likely to happen for the person or people targeted. Denial of Entitlement is when a person, or people, cry injustice because they either can't dress up their persecution of others in their beliefs, or can't force those beliefs on others, through law, or through being amazingly obnoxious).

Not only are anyone in power corupt, they are satanists, not are they satanists, they are the same sect of satanists who attacked Pico Mundo, not only are they the same satanists that attacked Pico Mundo, they have an actual connection to Satan. Like they can call up demons and monsters.... Yet for some reason they still use bombs, guns and weponized diseases to wreak havoc.

Now, if Koontz wanted to showcase some characterization of how to fight against a corupt system, that's cool, I mean I'm all for calling out people in power. But this vears into government lizard people territory, and if that was the type of book he wanted to write then that's cool too,but he essentially highjacked Odd's story to do it.

I have a hard time believing that when Odd picked up the ghost of Frank Sinatra at the end of Brother, and walked off into the sunset, that the original intent was to end up in the middle of a plot to plant nukes around the country and then, accompanied by pregnant girl who is some how The Virgin Mary's mother, to a house where time travel is possible and mutant pigs fade in from a post apocalyptic future and want to eat people, where they pick up a sort of dead, sort of immortal child, who is neither of those any more. Only to then to leave them to go on a road trip with an old lady, who some how has connections to the metaphysical, and a microchip planted in her ass that makes it to where she doesn't have to sleep, to rescue kids kidnapped by the powerful satanists to be used as human sacrifice. Along the way, they meet up with some fighters in this coming war, who while they do not wear tin foil hats, they have the cheerfully bloodthirsty air of cult members waiting for the end times. (Side note about the roadtrip book: Deeply Odd is the most boring, yet weird book I have read since Breaking Dawn. Say what you will about the crazy pigs and time travel in Odd Apocalypse, it's at least interesting).

And then to end up back in Pico Mundo to fight said satanists. The in increasingly nonsensical plots really just there to deliver commentary on how the world has gone to shit and everyone is to focused on the material.

Again, remember that Odd is pretty apolitical. He's never voted, owns only the clothes on his back, prefers Shakespeare and old movies to tv, which I figure also includes the news. How does this not equal out to a kid being a patsy for this group, which essentially takes over the narritive. I mean, yeah, he's still doing his thing, but he has many of his moves ditcatated by this group. This includes carrying a gun, all the time.

Again, Odd hates guns. Granted, by the last book, he has spent three books killing people with guns while talking about how much he hates killing people with guns, but up till the last two books, his hatered of guns is seen as a virtue, and then suddenly, he's an idiot if he doesn't arm himself to take a piss.

This makes very little sense to me. Odd is a simple guy, he wants to live his life as long as he has to, do right by the dead and make his way back to Stormy, all the while perfecting his pancake recipe. How the fuck did we get from this to "Everything is shit, there are three type of people, those in power who are working for the devil, those on the side of the angels and the idiots who don't see what's going on. And dispite all the supernatural stuff, we still need to busta cap in someone's ass.

I know that Koontz is Catholic, and I speculate that he had a renewal of his faith somewhere, but also somewhere along the line he took a turn into conservative libertarian territory if that is a thing that can exsist.

I feel like originally, the idea was to have Saint Odd follow Brother Odd, at least in some incarnation. It makes sense, the satanist sect want to come back and finish what was started, and take out the town and Odd, who cocked it up to begin with. In the first book Odd describes Roberts and his cohorts as playing satanists but just using it as a delivery system for their sick want to kill people and be famous for it. It follows that others who are also playing at being satanists would come back to town to get revenge for their fallen brethren. This also trucks with Forever Odd where the bug-shit lady was playing at being a Vudun, and with Brother Odd where people played at being faithful.

This is how ai think it should have gone:

Odd goes from the Abbey, where he is shown, yet again, that evil is a human driven force, that those who wallow in pride, in want of adoration and perfection can be the down fall of themselves and others, back to his home town to defeate these sad delusional people once and for all.

Or

Odd goes home for Christmas at the end of Brother, decides he wants to take vows, and goes about the process of becoming a man of the cloth. Maybe he goes back to St. Bart's, and he figures out a way to help the lingering dead from there, or, after he is confirmed in whatever capacity, he goes back to Pico Mundo and works along side Stormy's priest uncle. He sort of Father Dowlings it until he passes.

Instead, suddenly the structured feel of all of the supernatural things, which (implied by the third book) are based in science and the laws and rules of the universe that God laid down, turns into... Magic?

Doesn't matter how or why, what matters is there is a war! And the little fry cook shall lead them!

Seriously. Five years of Christian School has me seeing the turn that Odd's story takes, a couple of ways.

First it is either an overworked Christ story, where Odd is swept up in a war between the oppressed and the opressers, even though his life and mission is mostly one of mercy. In the end being a sacrifice that saves millions (by preventing the spread out f a weponized strain of rabies) but his sacrifice will only be remembered by a handful of people at first. The difference is of course that Odd buys into the culture war even though it make no sense.

Or, it's a Saint's story. Struggle, strife and miracles. See, it use to be that to be canonized, you had to have three miracles. His miracles? Well, first, his helping of the dead to cross over could be one, the preventing of whatever demon the satanists summoned in Deeply Odd, could be another, and finally, somehow managing to send Little Ozzie the manuscript for Saint Odd after Odd himself had already died, could be the last.

Either way, books four, five, and six are completely unnecessary.

So why does knootz's writing annoy me? It's self righteous and condicending. Poking fun a people who watch tv, enjoy unsophisticated things, bemoaning those who don't see just how stupid it is to buy into media, and how people are just marching their own way to misery because they just don't Get It.

It's the same time of people who look down on adults who do kid stuff sometimes "Why would you read John Green when you can read Dickens? Why would you watch Inside Out when you can watch Citizen Cane?"

Why would you eat coco puffs? Adults don't do that!"

I'm sorry, have I outgrown fun? A book is a book, a movie is a movie, breakfast cereal is breakfast cereal and you should be able to watch anything you want on tv without being shamed by a book that has an exploding cow in it.

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

1- The Scientist

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

Pairings: Logince (not yet established at this point

Warnings: slight gore, let me know if I need to add anything

A Welcome to Nightvale and Sanders Sides crossover fic suggested by Local Carlos Stanon! 

Characters: Roman - Cecil Palmer 

Remus - Kevin 

Logan - Carlos the Scientist 

Janus - Steve Carlsburg 

Patton - Lauren Mallard 

Virgil - Intern Maureen 

Thomas - Dana Cardinal 

Remy - Tamika Flynn

Emile- There is no Emile because everyone in Nightvale and Desert Bluffs need therapy and there’s no one to give it to them.

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.

Welcome to Nightvale.

“Hello listeners,” Roman said smoothly. “I have a quick notice from the City Council before we get to the important news.” He leaned forward, closer to the mic that hung from the low ceiling in the radio station. “The City Council would like to announce that you should not know about the Dog Park. You should not think about the Dog Park. Again, dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. People are not allowed in the Dog Park. There is a possibility of seeing Hooded Figures through the electrified fence that surrounds the Dog Park. Do not approach the Hooded Figures. Do not approach the Dog Park.” Roman’s voice doubled in volume as he spoke, filling the station and the homes and cars of his listeners. He sat back in his chair as he completed his report. “The Dog Park will not harm you.

Listeners, a new man has come into town. Who is he? What do he and his beautiful, perfect hair want? He says he is a scientist, gesturing to his coat. Well…” Roman smirked knowingly. “We have all been scientists at some point haven’t we? But why now and why here, in our little town?” Roman cocked his head to the side, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him. “Of course, we will soon discover what he plans to do with the lab he is renting near Big Rico’s Pizza.

And now, traffic. 

There is a cactus in the desert. There are many cacti in the desert, but only one that matters. You will wander the desert. Searching. Searching. Searching. The sun will beat down on you, slowly melting your skin, your organs, your bones. The freezing nights, solidifying your remains until you are a shambling mess of what you once were. And still you wander. Searching for something that isn’t there and perhaps never was. You don’t remember why you’re in this desert, what you’re searching for or how you got here. How did you get here? 

An update on the new visitor to our town. The...” Roman paused, savoring the word, “... scientist’s name has been revealed to us through the use of the Secret Police’s monitoring systems.” Roman shuffled some papers on his desk, looking through them until he found the right one. “A quick reminder to speak as loudly as possible when having private conversations. You don’t want the Secret Police to miss anything important after all. And do your best to have interesting conversations. Maybe discuss owning a writing utensil, or acknowledge the existence of angels. Brighten your agent’s day. 

Returning to the scientist. His name is Logan Sanders, and he is perfect in every way.” Roman sighed wistfully. “His lab coat is crisp and clean. His perfect hair is complemented by his blindingly perfect smile. Logan called a press conference today, which of course, I attended. He told us that our little town is the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S. by far. The perfect, beautiful Logan told us that he and his team of scientists were already busy studying a house in the Desert Creek housing development that doesn’t exist. It seems like it exists, like it's just right there when you look at it, and it's between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it does not exist, according to Logan and his team of scientists.” Roman shrugged. He was well aware that his audience couldn’t see him, but he shrugged anyway. There was something nice about the motion of shrugging, so he shrugged. “Existence is a tricky thing.

“He said more, but I was busy watching him. He smiled and grew animated talking about something scientific. Everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.

A quick reminder to parents out there; keep an eye on the color of the helicopters while your kids play in the Sand Wastes. Are they blue? That’s the Secret Police, your kids are safe to play. Are they black? Probably the world government. Return to your homes and cower in fear. Are they red with orange stripes? Return to your home and cower in fear.  Do they have images of hawks and falcons all over them? Well, no one knows what those helicopters mean best to-

just a moment listeners, I’m receiving a call from—” Roman gasped excitedly— “Logan!” He flapped his hands energetically. “While I take this, let us go now, to the weather.”

***

“Welcome back listeners. Now I don’t want to take up time from our final story or our sponsors, (we have to pay the bills somehow), but I just have to tell you about the call from Logan,” Roman gushed. “I gave him my number at the press conference and told him to ‘Call anytime. Like literally, anytime.’ He looked at me strangely, but he took the slip of paper and he called me! Just now!

He said that I need to tell you that the sun didn’t set at the right time today.” Roman laughed. “I told him that the sun doesn’t have a schedule. But he persisted, telling me that it was important that I inform my listeners that the sun did not set at the correct time. So here I am. Informing you. I asked if he had anything else to say to me and he muttered something about needing to write some numbers on his new whiteboard and hung up.” Roman shrugged again. “You win some you lose some am I right?

And now a word from our sponsor. 

You are a human. Probably. This message is for humans. If you are human you are made of up to 65% water. Therefore, water is required to make you human. Without water, you are not human and should not be listening to this. Stop listening. Stop it. Now. Brought to you by Clorox. Humans are not the only sentient beings composed of water.

The NRA is selling bumper stickers as a part of their annual fundraiser. They sent one to the station for some publicity, and as we are a community radio I’m happy to read one for you now. The bumper stickers read, ‘Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Guns have nothing to do with it. Stop blaming guns for your actions. They don’t like it. There, there guns, the mean people can’t hurt you anymore.’” Roman sat a little straighter, and leaned towards the microphone. 

“Someone took my advice to discuss the hierarchy of angels and they are now being taken to a reconditioning facility somewhere deep beneath the desert. Thank you for making your agent’s day,” Roman said smoothly with a smile. “As always, you are reminded that you should not know about the hierarchy of angels as they do not exist.” He nodded at the camera in the corner of the room and at the car that never moved from outside the station. 

“Stay tuned next for silence followed by wallowing in your own thoughts.” Now came his favorite part. 

Until next time. Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.” 

*

Not far away, a scientist stared at the radio. He hadn’t turned it on when he arrived this morning. In fact, he hadn’t even known there was a radio in this lab. This morning someone introducing himself as Roman had suddenly blared out of the radio, scaring Logan half to death. Somehow, this stranger knew that he had come to town and… Logan felt his cheeks get hot as he remembered what Roman had said throughout the day. 

Logan had done some rudimentary tests around town to see if there was anything of interest. He found a surprising amount. The screams at the post office, the ghost cars, the house that doesn’t exist, and the pit behind the Ralph’s which wasn’t so much scientifically interesting as just weird. He also met a very kind Faceless Old Woman who was secretly living in his new apartment. He called a press conference (you could just do that here by thinking about having one) and explained what he found out about the house in the Desert Creek housing development. No one had seemed… concerned. Which was, in itself, concerning.

After the press conference, Roman had slipped him his number, explaining, (with a wink that made Logan glad his skin was too dark to show a blush), that it was his personal number, and that he was welcome to call whenever he wanted. Logan left the conference feeling dazed and wandered back to his lab.

He started unpacking. He needed something easy to do while his mind churned away at the strange town he had found himself in. And of course, there were chemicals to place in their exact spots, whiteboards to set up, computers to plug in... all the usual work that went into getting a lab ready for work. He hadn’t paid much attention to the radio, but he stopped his work when he heard his name. How did Roman know his name? He tried to remember everything Roman had said. Something about the Secret Police. Secret Police? Monitoring him? That’s how they learned his name?

He glanced down at his watch. He almost went back to work before he realized that it was nine o’clock. Logan glanced out the window to see that the sun wasn’t even close to setting. He pulled out his phone and looked up the time of today’s sun set. 8:33. 

Logan furrowed his brow. He pulled out the piece of paper he had carelessly shoved into his coat pocket. Beneath the hastily scratched numbers was a barely legible name "Roman Palmer." He punched the numbers into his phone and held it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Is this Roman?" Logan asked.

Hey all! This crossover is happening due to the amazing Local Carlos Stanon! They proposed the idea and I had to write it. This will consist of a series of oneshots, hopefully deviating from the original material a bit more than this one. Please. Please. Please listen to Welcome to Nightvale and talk about it with me! It’s an amazing podcast with very queer characters (in both senses of the word).

If you need a warning added, would like to be added to my tag list, or have any questions or requests shot me an ask or message!

Taglist: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @dragonleesupporter @emo--nightmaree @7-slights-at-virgil @lokiamorstuffs @underthesea73 @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @k1ngtok1 @somehow-i-got-an-account @silverobsidion-speaks  @a-fandom-trashdump  @averykedavra @k1ngtok1 @potatsanderssides @sign-from-god-complex

(Some of these are from @the-taglist-repository. Just ask if you’d like to be removed.)