#trouble's dusty inbox

[a-scaly-troublemaker]

This is you hiding after I read chapter 2 of Shooting Stars and call in Milblo and Norberto

YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE THE ANGST IS IN MY BLOOD I AM A LONELY MOTHERFUCKER

[mishacollins]

Time.

I’m at home alone with COVID, which is giving me time to naval-gaze and empty my inbox. In that inbox, I discovered that my friend Alex Gorosh (director of my series RoadFood) sent me this little documentary short on the topic of time.

For some reason, the unfathomable magnitude of space and time has always been a great source of comfort to me. I remember feeling miserable as a teenager and looking up at the stars of the night sky and taking great comfort in the fact that I was just a speck on this tiny blue planet in an ever-expanding universe of quintillions of planets. Looking up at the night sky on a clear night in New England as a kid I could see faint glow of the milky way—hundreds of billions of stars so distant they ceased to be points of light, but together they added up to a dusty smudge of luminosity across the sky—and all of the stars the Milky Way are in our own galaxy! And there are hundreds of billions of stars in hundreds of billions of other galaxies in this universe. To my high school mind all of this comforted me, because how could my little problems ever feel big when held up to the enormity of everything.

I always remember being soothed by the vastness of the universe, but when I was 40, I read “Annals of the Former World,” a tome on geology by John McPhee. The book beautifully illustrated the great expanse of geologic time, which so often exceeds the limits of our comprehension with this simple quote, “Consider the Earth’s history as the old measure of the English yard, the distance from the king’s nose to the tip of his outstretched hand. One stroke of a nail file on his middle finger erases human history.”

When I remember to remember, this too comforts me. The infinitesimally-small-smallness of my troubles helps them fade into nothing. Watching these few minutes on Youtube this morning, it was comforting to see that I am not alone in this perspective on our blink of time in this world. 

https://youtu.be/nOVvEbH2GC0

[seoulzie]

범규; whispers of the unsleeping

───── orphic ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (adj.) mysterious & entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding

synopsis: in the small city of yeosu, insomniac choi beomgyu seeks refuge in his school's abandoned astronomical observatory to catch some sleep. there, he encounters y/n l/n, a sociable and carefree girl who shares his struggle with insomnia. together, they form an unlikely friendship and revive their school's defunct astronomy club, spending their nights exploring the stars.

彡 pairing: beomgyu x f!reader 彡 genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, university au 彡 warnings: mentions of mental health & insomnia, parental abandonment (?) chronic illness, strong language, grief & loss

RELEASE DATE; 07/26/24 — this week, friday

index: prologue i. sleepless encounters capella ii. a place of our own vega iii. rekindling the stars proxima iv. phases of the moon, phases of us rigel v. cosmic challenge polaris vi. beyond the horizon altair vii. heart to heart betelgeuse viii. tomorrow's sunrise arcturus the end: epilogue

TAGLIST: OPEN! leave an ask in my inbox, reply to this post, or send me a dm!

CHOI BEOMGYU ( 21 ) ( M )

a student who struggles with trouble falling asleep most nights. consequently, he is irritable at school, always searching for an opportunity to find a secluded place to doze off. despite his gruff exterior, he is well-known around campus for his charming looks.

Y/N L/N ( 20 ) ( F )

a cheerful and enthusiastic student, the astronomy club president, whose secret battle with insomnia leads her to the solace of the astronomical conservatory at night. determined to keep her condition hidden, she finds refuge among the stars until she encounters another night owl, beomgyu.

PROLOGUE: CHAPTER 0 word count: 3.1k

another sleepless night. beomgyu stared up at the ceiling of his room, counting the cracks for the hundredth time. it was a game he played with himself when he couldn’t sleep, a futile attempt to trick his brain into shutting down. spoiler alert: it never worked.  he groaned, the sound echoing hollowly in the silent room, and threw an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the faint glow of dawn creeping through the dusty blinds. the alarm clock on his nightstand blinked 6:00 am in angry red numbers, a mocking reminder of the day looming ahead.

with a sigh that condensed the exhaustion clinging to him like a shroud, beomgyu rolled out of bed. every muscle screamed in protest, a dull ache thrumming through his limbs. he shuffled to the bathroom, his movements heavy with sleep deprivation. his reflection in the mirror looked as shitty as he felt—dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up in every direction, and a permanent scowl etched on his face. he splashed some cold water on his face, hoping it would wake him up enough to function through another hellish day at school.

he reached for his usual blue and white striped tube of toothpaste, but his fingers met only the cold, hard plastic of the sink. panic clawed at his throat. empty. of course, it was empty. why wouldn't it be? just his luck.

frantic, he rummaged through the cabinet under the sink, desperately searching for a spare tube. nothing. nada. just a half-empty bottle of mouthwash that reeked of peppermint and disappointment. he slammed the cabinet shut, the sound echoing through the small bathroom like a gunshot. “fucking hell.”

defeated, beomgyu straightened up, bracing himself for another blow. he hobbled over to his laundry basket, a tangled mess of unmentionables. he started digging, desperately searching for a matching pair of socks. hope flickered when his fingers brushed against soft cotton, then died a slow, agonizing death as he pulled out a lone, navy blue sock. where was its partner? had it been swallowed by a rogue dryer gremlin? eaten by a sock-hungry monster lurking in the washing machine?

beomgyu stared at the single sock in his hand, a monument to his perpetually bad luck. he was starting to think the universe had a personal vendetta against him. this wasn't just another day; it was a full-blown disaster waiting to happen, and he was just the hapless protagonist caught in the middle.

after throwing on his uniform and grabbing his backpack, he headed downstairs. his dad had already left for work, as usual. the house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaotic mornings of his childhood before—stop it, he thought to himself. beomgyu shook off the unwelcome memories and grabbed a piece of toast on his way out.

he dragged himself to the front door, his feet protesting with each step. a splash of color outside his window caught his eye. mrs. han, his elderly neighbor, was kneeling by her rose bushes, her weathered hands wielding a watering can with surprising vigor. despite his fatigue, a small smile tugged at the corner of beomgyu's lips. mrs. han was a fixture in the neighborhood, a tiny woman with a heart as big as her prized hydrangeas.

"good morning, mrs. han," he managed, his voice rough from disuse.

she looked up, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. "good morning, beomgyu. off to school already? you look a bit pale," she said with a motherly concern that always made him feel a flicker of warmth.

"just a little tired, mrs. han," he replied, offering a weak smile. "those history essays won't write themselves, you know."

mrs. han chuckled. "always busy, that's you. but remember, dear, rest is important too. don't you burn yourself out."

"i'll try my best," he promised, though the words tasted like ashes in his mouth. he knew the truth – sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford.

beomgyu continued his walk, the rising sun painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. the usual sights and sounds of the morning held a peculiar distance, muffled by the fog in his brain. the bakery across the street, usually a source of enticing aromas, only offered a dull ache in his stomach – a reminder of the breakfast he hadn't bothered with.

as he neared the school gates, the sounds of chatter started to seep in, a rising crescendo of greetings and nervous laughter. he braced himself for the usual barrage of hellos and high-fives, his trademark charm already feeling strained. beomgyu wasn't just tired, he was running on fumes, his charisma a flickering candle in a hurricane of exhaustion.

just as he predicted, a cheerful voice chimed in from beside him. "beomgyu! looking handsome as ever this morning, even at this ungodly hour."

he turned to see yeri, a girl from his class with a smile as bright as her sunflower hair clip. she was notorious for her bubbly personality and her unashamed crush on him. usually, beomgyu would respond with a playful jab or a witty remark, adding to the innocent flirtation. but today, a single word was all he could muster.

"hey," he croaked out, a smile barely flickering across his lips.

yeri's smile faltered slightly. "everything okay? you seem...out of it."

he shrugged, the movement feeling like wading through mud. "just a late night studying." it wasn't a complete lie, but the truth felt too heavy to share.

"well," yeri continued, her voice losing a bit of its usual chirp, "don't let it get you down. math class first thing, right? let's just hope ms. choi isn't in one of her moods."

there was a time when such a comment would have sparked a playful banter, a shared groan about their least favorite teacher. today, beomgyu merely nodded, a hollow feeling settling in his chest.

despite his exhaustion, beomgyu couldn't help but notice the way heads turned in his direction, the whispered greetings, the stolen glances. he was undeniably popular, the school's resident charmer. but the weight of that popularity felt like a suffocating cloak.

a group of guys from the basketball team hollered a greeting, their voices echoing off the lockers. beomgyu offered a weak wave, the movement seeming to drain the last vestiges of his energy. a couple of girls from the dance club giggled as they passed, their eyes lingering on him for a beat too long. all he could do was muster a tired smile, the effort feeling monumental.

he reached his locker, the familiar combination numbers a blur in his sleep-deprived haze. as he shoved his books inside, a hand landed on his shoulder. it was kai, his best friend, his partner in crime (or at least, they were when beomgyu had the energy for crime fighting). kai, unlike beomgyu, was a beacon of energy, his perpetually ruffled brown hair and mischievous grin a constant source of amusement.

"dude, you look like a deflated balloon," kai commented, his voice laced with concern. "another night?"

beomgyu slammed his locker shut with a sigh that spoke volumes. "yeah," he mumbled, leaning against the cold metal for support.

kai's brow furrowed. "seriously, beomgyu. you've been like this for weeks. we talked about this already! you said you’d try anything besides looking like you haven't slept since kindergarten."

beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, a grimace creasing his face for a moment before smoothing out into a tired indifference. "yeah, yeah," he mumbled, more to himself than to kai. "it's whatever at this point."

kai's concern flickered, then died down as he picked up on the subtle shift in beomgyu's demeanor. he knew that tone – the one that said beomgyu was resigned, shutting himself off. pushing wouldn't help.

"alright," kai said, switching gears with the practiced ease, “come on, zombie boy. let's get to class before ms. choi starts discussing the square root of boredom."

the morning dragged on, each class blending into the next in a haze of exhaustion and boredom. beomgyu could barely keep his eyes open, let alone focus on the lectures. 

his first class was math, and he trudged to his seat, slumping down with a heavy sigh. he rummaged through his bag, only to realize he had forgotten his pen.

“hey, taehyun,” he whispered to the boy sitting next to him. “got a pen i can borrow?”

taehyun glanced at him and chuckled softly. “forgot yours again? here.” he handed beomgyu a pen, shaking his head in amusement.

“thanks, man,” beomgyu muttered, trying to muster a grateful smile. he opened his notebook and attempted to take notes, but his eyelids felt like lead weights. the teacher’s voice droned on, a monotonous hum that only made him feel sleepier.

his head began to nod, his vision blurring as he struggled to stay awake. just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep, he heard his name being called.

“mr. choi,” the teacher’s voice was sharp and reprimanding. beomgyu jolted awake, blinking rapidly.

“y-yes?” he stammered, sitting up straight.

“care to repeat what i just said?” the teacher asked, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

beomgyu’s mind went blank. he hadn’t heard a single word. “uh… something about calculus?” he guessed, hoping he was at least close.

the class snickered, and the teacher sighed in exasperation. “detention, mr. choi. maybe next time you’ll pay attention instead of dozing off in my class.”

beomgyu slumped back in his seat, cursing under his breath. “great. just fucking great,” he thought.

by the time lunch rolled around, beomgyu was ready to collapse. he shuffled towards the cafeteria, his head hanging low. he spotted his friends at their usual table and dragged himself over, the fluorescent lights feeling like a personal attack on his already throbbing head.

"yo, beomgyu!" yeonjun called out, waving him over. "you look like shit, man. rough night?"

beomgyu slumped into a chair, the metal groaning under his weight. a defeated grunt escaped his lips as he slumped his tray onto the table. "yeah," he mumbled, picking at his food with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

soobin, munching on an apple, raised an eyebrow. "again? dude, you really need to see a doctor or something."

beomgyu shrugged, picking at his food without much appetite. "what are they gonna do? prescribe me more useless meds? no thanks."

yeonjun leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "have you tried, like, meditation or something? i heard it can help."

beomgyu rolled his eyes. "yeah, 'cause sitting still and doing nothing is gonna magically cure my insomnia. thanks, but no thanks."

taehyun looked at him, frowning. "you really should try something, man. this can’t be good for you."

beomgyu sighed. "yeah, well, i’ve tried everything. nothing works. now i’ve got detention ‘cause i fell asleep in math."

taehyun winced. "harsh. what are you gonna do?"

"skip it, maybe. find a quiet place to sleep," beomgyu muttered, pushing his tray away.

beomgyu wandered the halls, his mind a jumble of thoughts and exhaustion. the school was a labyrinth of possibilities, each one fraught with its own set of risks and potential rewards. he needed to find the perfect place to nap, somewhere quiet and out of the way where no one would bother him.

places to (possibly) sleep 1) the janitor's closet

the first place that came to mind was the janitor’s closet. beomgyu had passed by it a million times, always noticing how the janitor, mr. lee, would leave it unlocked while he went about his duties. beomgyu headed towards the closet, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. he carefully turned the knob and slipped inside.

the closet was small and dark, filled with cleaning supplies and equipment. the smell of bleach and disinfectant was strong, but beomgyu didn’t care. he saw a small space behind a stack of boxes and decided it would have to do. he crouched down, wedging himself into the cramped space. the floor was cold and hard, but he was desperate for some rest.

he closed his eyes, trying to let the darkness and quiet lull him to sleep. just as he felt himself drifting off, the door creaked open. beomgyu’s eyes snapped open, and he held his breath. mr. lee stood in the doorway, a look of confusion quickly turning to annoyance on his face.

“hey! what are you doing in here?” mr. lee barked.

“shit,” beomgyu muttered under his breath. he scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. “sorry, i—uh—i got lost?”

mr. lee narrowed his eyes. “out. now.”

beomgyu didn’t need to be told twice. he quickly slipped past the janitor and out into the hallway, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. so much for that.

places to (possibly) sleep 1) janitor’s closet 2) library

next, beomgyu decided to try the library. it was usually quiet, and he figured he might be able to find a secluded corner to catch some z’s. he made his way to the library, the scent of old books hitting him as soon as he stepped inside. the librarian, mrs. tanaka, gave him a stern look over her glasses, but he ignored her and began his search for the perfect spot.

the library was mostly empty, with only a few students scattered around, hunched over their books. beomgyu walked past the rows of shelves, looking for a place where he could hide from prying eyes. he found a spot in the back, behind a tall stack of books on astronomy. it was quiet, and he could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning.

he sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and pulled his knees to his chest. the cool air and the silence were soothing, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. just as he was about to drift off, he heard footsteps. he peeked around the stack of books and saw a group of girls walking towards him, giggling and chatting.

“great,” he thought. “just great.”

the girls didn’t notice him at first, but as they got closer, one of them spotted him. she nudged her friend, and they both started whispering and giggling even louder. beomgyu felt his face heat up with annoyance and embarrassment. this was definitely not going to work.

he got up, brushing the dust off his pants, and made his way out of the library, ignoring the stares and whispers of the girls. “too many people and out in the open,” he thought. scratch that idea.

places to (possibly) sleep 1) janitor’s closet 2) library

beomgyu trudged on, defeat clinging to him like yesterday's gym clothes. he formulated a mental list in his head, each possibility crumpling under the weight of potential interruptions. the rooftop? too exposed. the music room? a rogue trumpet could shatter any hope of sleep.

his weary eyes scanned the familiar halls, a sliver of hope flickering as he rounded a corner. there it stood, a solitary figure against the twilight sky—the astronomy tower.

the tower, a relic of a bygone era of scientific exploration. its once-gleaming silver exterior was now weathered and rusted, the windows dark and vacant. It had been years since anyone had ventured inside, rumors of asbestos and ghosts swirling around it like dusty cobwebs.

but for beomgyu, in his desperate search for a haven, the tower's isolation was a siren song. no students lingered in its shadow, no teachers patrolled its perimeter. in that forgotten corner, a flicker of hope ignited. it might be dusty, it might be creepy, but it could be perfect. as he neared the tower, the details became more pronounced: chipped tiles forming the entrance walkway, a rusty weather vane groaning in the faint evening breeze, and the peeling paint revealing the faded inscription "ad astra per aspera" - "to the stars through difficulties." an odd prickle ran down his spine. the inscription felt oddly fitting, a challenge on this day of immense hardship. could the tower, in its own dilapidated way, be his path to the stars? to sleep, the most elusive star in his current reality? the door was old and creaky, and it took a bit of effort to push it open. just as he was about to reach for the door handle, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.

“fuck,” beomgyu muttered, feeling his shoulders slump in defeat. the observatory would have to wait. he decided then and there that he would check it out tomorrow during his free period. he turned and trudged back down the hallway, the prospect of a good nap tantalizingly out of reach.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman , @beombeomlovesme ⤷ want to get notified? click here!

© 2024 seoulzie

[apollo1three]

Hello! can I plz request the obey me bros with their children, you can choose if u want them to be their daughter, son or multiple. i just really wanna see them as like dads, like a scenario maybe when they learn to walk or say their first word you dnt have to if you don't want to! and if it's too much can i have just Beel Mammon or Lucifer :3

AHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! I’m sorry for taking so long! I haven’t checked my dusty musty crusty a$$ inbox in a while ;-; also nonnie u don’t understand how much I love domestic, sappy, fluffy af stuff like this <3<3

Ofc I’ll do all of em, but I’ll do them in parts so you don’t have to wait for me to finish all seven ^^

------

An unimaginable type of love

(Lucifer x MC)

The demon brothers with their babies (1/7)

Demons are not born, he once told you; they manifest – either as a product of great sin or demonic energy. Demons do not feel the need to procreate, they cannot- they do not get pregnant, and they certainly do not give birth.  

So how is it that the Morningstar finds himself staring down into sparkling crimson eyes, reminiscent of the deep shade of his, with a softness akin to yours? How is it that he cradles a squirming bundle made from the love between him and his human wife?

With a life only ever dedicated to servitude, Lucifer would’ve never dreamt of creating a family of his own. Never in his time in the celestial realm would he have imagined small, fragile little arms, reaching out for him to hold them in his. Never could he have imagined the possibility of a being regarding him in the sentiment with which he had once regarded Him.

He eyes your sleeping form, snuggled into the comfort of the large bed, and he’s overcome with a fondness that words could not explain the level of. To be loved unconditionally by you, and to be given the most precious gift of all. What had he done to deserve such a thing? - something that was once an unfathomable idea - did he deserve it?

He cradles his daughter in his arms, stroking her little face, and the giggle she lets out is so precious, so much like you, and has him nuzzling his nose into her puffed up little cheeks. You had once light-heartedly complained to him about carrying her in your stomach for nine months, only to have her come out identical to him. Though he'd never admit it, your husband was proud of the notion (at the time, you swore you could see puffed up feathers behind his form), but it was irrefutable how the child carried herself with a poise that was undeniably like yours: a mischievous, yet endearing glint in her eyes that surely meant trouble in the foreseeable future. Lucifer didn’t mind, though.

He mutters, “my darling, what are you doing up so late at night?”, to which his only response is a squeal and few kicks of tiny feet. He tuts back, playfully. “So noisy, my love. Won’t you let your mother sleep?”

There’s a slight breeze from the open balcony, and he gets up from his side of the bed with your daughter rocking gently in his grasp. “Let’s go outside for a bit, come now.”

The way he carries her is careful, protective, and much more assured than the way he had first carried her after her birth. He wasn’t used to dealing with humans, let alone any living thing, in their infancy. Angels and demons did not have an infantile period, and it shook him inwardly the first time he held her, so small and breakable. You, a fully grown human woman, were fragile enough as is – but a human infant? It took some stern reassurance that the child he considered so small and breakable was his just as much as she was yours for his paranoia to waver.

‘She’s ours, Lu.’

(Fatherhood. Such a human experience, and he had only you to thank for it.)

Ushering to the Devildom fireflies, she blows raspberries that makes him want to litter his daughter in even more kisses. So he does, far more unreserved than if it were in front of you (while he loved you and trusted you with his heart and soul, showcasing such unabashed doting was still awkward for new to him). So disgustingly affectionate; the past him would’ve laughed at the notion of such outwards display of emotion directed towards anyone or anything – a hit to his pride, to the very thing he embodied. But to the him right now, such a thought never even crossed his mind.

“Do you see that, my love? Aren’t they pretty?”, he smiles softly, tenderly, eyes creasing at the corners. He pokes at her mouth, now endlessly razzing. “Alright, who taught you to do that? Was it Uncle Mammon? Belphie?"

To the him right now, his pride was in the form of his beautiful wife, and his darling little girl.

“Daddy will always protect you two, I swear on it.”

Absentmindedly stroking her head, a thousand thoughts run through his head. He contemplates heading back inside as the wind picks up, worried you might be getting cold. You’ve been all over the baby since she arrived (and even before then, too), insisting that her crib be placed in the both of your bedroom (much to Asmodeus’s chagrin, adamant that your old room would make the most beautiful human-realm-esque nursery) – while your motherliness was extremely attractive (or rather, all of you), and despite your daughter being an unusually well-behaved little thing, you deserved some quality rest.

He heads back, moving to lower her into her pink-embellished, Avatar of Lust™, crib, but freezes.

“Da..da!”

His movements are miniscule, microscopic, as he looks down at the cooing and giggling tot.

“Say- say that again, darling.”

“Dada!”

Time seems to slow, and he’s overcome with so much fondness, so much love.

“Haha! That’s right, here’s Dada..!” He practically throws her up into the air, accompanied by more squeaky giggles, and if anyone asks: no- his eyes don’t water (it’s merely the brightness of the Devildom moon).

Amidst childish laughter, she says it once more.

He lets out a shaky laugh of disbelief. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there's an uncharacteristically toothy grin on his face. Slowly, trembling hands (a fault of the temperature, obviously, despite him once mentioning the immunity of demons to things as 'trivial' as the weather) press his daughter's small body to his chest.

His daughter. His. His daughter. His wife. His brothers. His family.

It was then that he realised, although perhaps he had always known, that the love he felt for you and the life the two of you had created was different from His love. It was unconditional. The sort of love that allowed him to understand Lilith, the sort of love that he would gladly die for, kill for, be destroyed for. The sort of love that was once unattainable, unimaginable, was now closer than ever.

Lucifer wanted to share this moment with you.

“M-MC!”

[allbark-no-bite]

the night shift.

jake seresin x bradley bradshaw (wc: 3k)

summary: jake’s a cop working the night shift and pulls over a mildly drunk (and very interested) firefighter. chaos ensues.

warnings: mature, *driving while under the influence of alcohol, some sexual references

*if this bothers you, just don’t read, simple as that. you don’t have to come into my inbox to tell me that it bothers you <3

author’s note: i’ve never written anything faster in my entire like. this was so much fun! i came across this post again and couldn’t let it go. all credit to @squiddosss for their amazing artwork

————————————————————————

It's slow nights like these that make Jake question why he prefers the night shift.

The gravel of the lonely backroad crunches beneath the tires of his cruiser as he makes the curve and slowly pulls to a stop. The sirens on his cruiser give one last whoop before he shuts them off. The back of the beat up vintage blue Bronco gleams in the shine of his headlights. He sighs and shifts the car into park before he tips his radio towards his mouth and mumbles his whereabouts, informing Javy that he's making a traffic stop.

"10-4. Keep me updated."

He climbs out of the cruiser and makes his way towards the vehicle, keeping one thumb tucked into the front of his belt, fingers ready to reach for his gun in an instant. The diver hadn't given him any trouble thus far other than what he had pulled him over for— swerving all over the road, but Jake had been trained to err on the side of caution. He runs his finger tips over the tail light as he passes it by, a habit he had picked up from working alone.

For being such an old model, the car is in pretty decent shape. It has what appears to be brand new tires and the powder blue paint job has been restored to perfection. It was obviously well cared for. He wonders briefly the story behind it being as he doubts you could buy such a car these days. This was the kind of car that you handed down.

The window rolls down just as Jake approaches it.

"How's it goin' Officer?"

Jake blinks.

The driver is a younger guy, probably close to his own age— Jake likes to think that thirty-one is still plenty young— with shoulders so broad that it's a wonder he even fits in the front seat. His skin is a dark olive, which is pretty typical for someone who lives around here, but what catches Jake's attention the most is the perfectly groomed mustache the guy is sporting on his upper lip. It's thick and matches the caramel color of his otherwise brunette head of hair.

"Is there something wrong?"

The guy smiles and his dusty rose lips frame his perfectly aligned white teeth.

Jake tells himself it's his job to notice these kinds of things.

Jake clears his throat and leans in to peer into the cab of the truck, doing his best to avoid the lingering stare of the guy's warm hazel eyes. When he's satisfied that there's nothing worthy of his immediate attention in the car, Jake focuses back on him.

"Can I get your license and registration?"

It takes him a moment of fumbling around in his glove box and then his pocket, but he hands both documents over. The guy watches him so intently while Jake reads over them that it almost makes him uncomfortable, and he's glad for the excuse to look away.

"You had much to drink tonight, Bradley?" Jake asks as his eyes skim over the name. Bradley Peter Bradshaw. He almost laughs. If Jake didn't know better, he'd think it was a fake.

Jake knows the answer before he asks it but he figures he'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now. He doesn't necessarily reek of alcohol but Jake can defiantly pick up the fermented smell of yeast on his breath. If the guy hadn't been staring at him so intently and Jake could look at him for longer than two seconds, he's sure his pupils would be dilated as well.

"Just a little, Officer. I'm sobered up now."

Jake has to hold back his disbelieving snort. If he had a dime for every time he heard that, he'd be rich. "Well, Bradley. I find that a little hard to believe. You were all over this back road here. You know you're only supposed to drive on the right side, right?"

Bradley's mouth twitches, as if he found Jake's comment more amusing rather than condescending. "I didn't, but I'll sure take your word for it."

Jake, on the other hand, doesn't share his humor. "You seem like a funny guy, Bradley. But unfortunately, I don't find drunk driving to be very funny."

And then his eyes land on the emblem on Bradley's navy blue t-shirt—N.I.F.D. —the one his swollen biceps are nearly bursting out of.

"You work for North Island Fire Department?"

Jake watches as Bradley's slightly drunk grin widens. "I sure do."

Jake hands him back his license and the rest of his paperwork. "I've got a couple friends down at the station. You know Trace, Fitch?"

If his pupils weren't already blown wide, Jake would say they lit up in recognition. "Yeah, actually. Natasha is the one who got me the job there. I just finished a deployment out in the Pacific."

It's then that Jake notices the dog tags looped around his thick neck and hidden beneath his shirt. "You're enlisted," Jake says aloud, and then to conceal his surprise follows with, "I was too."

That's the kind of thing that you do when you're eighteen and more scared of not living than dying. If anything it was exciting. Anything that meant getting the hell out of Texas was exciting. He misses it now, but at the time when he was standing alone in that recruiters office, he didn't think for a moment that he would. He felt like a man.

The navy made him a man, is what his daddy said. It was probably one of the only times the old bastard ever told him he was proud of him, and the only time he didn't feel bad for making his mama cry.

The reason he got out was for the reason most do. You realize you don't stay twenty forever and life doesn't wait around until you figure that out. He didn't want to retire one day and have nothing to come home to but an empty apartment. San Diego seemed as good of a place to settle down as any.

Javy's voice crackles through on the radio strapped to his chest, breaking up their conversation.

"Unit-16. Checking in on your traffic stop. You need back-up?"

He hadn't realized they'd been talking so long. Jake mentally reprimands himself for getting distracted and picks up the radio while pressing it to his mouth. "This is Unit-16. No back-up necessary. Over."

"10-4. Over."

Jake releases the radio and looks back up to Bradley. Get back on task, Jake. Bradley smiles coyly at him. Jesus, focus, Jake.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step out the vehicle."

The hopeful look in Bradley's big hazel eyes falters.

"Look, Officer uh— " The Bradley leans towards his open window so that he can squint at the gold engraved name plate on Jake's uniform. "—Seresin." Jake watches as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he cocks his head a little to the side and smiles, looking up at Jake. "You look good."

Oh. Oh.

That's what this is all about.

It's then that Jake realizes that this guy has been flirting him the entire time. He'll admit it's not the first time someone's hit on him while on the clock. Jake is aware he's an attractive guy, it's just that this is the first time he's been tasked with turning down at very handsome, drunk stranger. But drunk or not, the compliment makes his cheeks burn. Jake prays that the red and blue lights of his cruiser are enough to conceal the way his face flushes.

Ignoring him, Jake grabs the door handle of the Bronco and tugs it open. "C'mon, pal. Outta the car."

A little begrudgingly, Bradley slowly steps out of the car. Jake doesn't miss the way he grabs onto the door to steady himself.

Now that he's out of the car and in the beam of his headlights, Jake gets a good look at him. Bradley is over six feet of lean tan muscle. His long legs are encased in blue jeans that fit a bit too snug around his narrow waist, but from there he only gets wider all the way up to his shoulders. He's got some height on Jake and if he weren't in shape himself, Jake would probably be a little intimidated.

Jake steps up to him. "Go ahead and turn around for me. Put your hands flat on the hood."

For a moment Jake thinks he isn't going to listen, but then Bradley smirks a little and does as he's told. "Normally I'd ask you to buy me dinner first, but whatever you say, Officer."

This time Jake is glad that he's turned around. He steps forward and uses one of his feet to knock Bradley's legs a little further apart so that he can pat him down. He's not surprised to find that there's nothing on him, but he always has to check.

"Are you always this forward, Bradley? Or just when you're drunk?"

"No, sir," Bradley promises him, refusing to flinch even as Jake's hands come dangerously close to his crotch. "Just when the officer is nice to look at."

Jake pulls away as Bradley turns around. He specifically remembers telling him to keep his hands flat on the cruiser but Jake is getting the impression that Bradley doing something that could hurt either one of them isn't something he needs to worry about so he lets it go. Typically a stupid decision but he trusts his gut.

Bradley leans back just slightly to prop himself up against the car and crosses his arms in front of his chest while giving Jake a smile. His big brown eyes are warm and dopey, his smile impish.

"You gonna cut me some slack?" he asks.

Habitually, Jake curls his fingers through the front of his belt. The familiar weight of his kevlar vest is heavy and comforting and somehow he finds that it settles his fluttering heart in his chest.

"You know it's considered an offense to flirt with an officer?" Jake tells him, trying to remain professional and stand his ground. If his eyes drop to observe the way the other man's pecks fill out his t-shirt, that's his business.

Bradley smiles, ducking his head a little abashedly. Jake doesn't miss the way his teeth release the pout of his bottom lip. "Does that apply to when you're off duty as well?"

Jake pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek to keep from smiling. It's not funny, and he shouldn't be flattered by the advances of a drunk stranger but he is. And maybe he does have some sympathy for the guy. He knows what it's like coming back to the states and trying to adjust back to civilian life. But that doesn't mean that he's above the law.

"Bradley," he begins, his voice firm but sympathetic. "You know you can't be driving around like this. As much as I'd like to, I can't let you go."

As far as he's concerned, Bradley doesn't seem to be hearing him at all.

"Y'know, of all the places I imagined myself being handcuffed, none of them were in the back of a cop car."

"Jesus Christ," Jake mutters, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Really, he has no words. "Okay, that's enough," he announces, giving up on getting Bradley to actually take this seriously. "Turn around for me."

Smiling as if feeling a little too pleased with himself, Bradley obediently shuffles around so that Jake can then walk up behind him and clasp his wrists together. He uses his other hand to retrieve his cuffs from his belt and clips them on.

They're a little tight but that's only because Bradley's broad shoulders prevent his wrists from fully meeting, his shoulder blades seemingly obstructed by the wide expanse of his back.

Jake is definitely not staring. 

If the cuffs are uncomfortable, Bradley doesn't say anything, and Jake walks him by one of his elbows to the cruiser.

"Watch your head," Jake instructs him as he opens the door for Bradley to step in. It's a tight fit but somehow he manages, scooting over the seat until he's sat in the middle, his long legs spread to either side in order to accommodate them. The denim of his jeans strain at the awkwardness of the angle and gives Jake a front row view of the bugle of his crotch.

Jake clears his throat, looking away. If it were for the fact that he was drunk, Jake would say he's doing it on purpose.

Before Jake can shut the door and leave with what little is left of his self preservation, Bradley's voice stops him.

"Wait, what about my car?"

When Jake leans down to poke his head into the backseat of the cruiser, the look on Bradley's face is actually concerned. That's a first, Jake thinks. "I'll call someone to tow it. It'll be impounded until you can come and pick it up from the station." When the worry on Bradley's face only increases, his mustache emphasizing the action, he follows with, "They'll take good care of it for you, I promise."

Bradley's eyes flicker to the old Bronco anxiously. "It's just that it's my dad's car. He, um, he died when I was a kid. So, y'know..." he explains, trailing off.

Of fucking course it is.

Jake sighs, hangs his head in defeat for a second, and then looks back into the car at Bradley. "Look, I'll make a deal with you. Promise me we won't meet like this again and I won't have them tow your car. You can just come get it in the morning."

Bradley grins. "Well I'd certainly like to meet you under different circumstances."

Jake slams the door shut.

The drive back into town is quiet. When he glances at the clock on his dashboard, he realizes he only has about an hour left to his shift. As he pulls into the little suburban neighborhood, having memorized the address on Bradley's license, he glances into the backseat through his rear view mirror.

At first he thinks that Bradley's knocked out in the backseat, head lulled back as he breathes slow and steady, but then he sees the whites of his hazel eyes illuminated by the occasional red and blue flash of his overhead lights. Their gazes meet through the mirror and the corner of Bradleys mouth lifts up in a half drunk smile. Jake shifts his gaze away to instead peer at the numbers on the houses. Finally he finds the address he's looking for and slows the cruiser as he pulls into the driveway.

He brings the car to a stop and slides out of the driver's seat, walking around the car to open up the side door. Bradley stares at him quizzically from the backseat.

"C'mon, hop out before I change my mind," Jake prompts, gesturing with his head for Bradley to get a move on. The tall brunette climbs out with as much ease as one can muster in a pair of handcuffs before he's once again standing face to face with Jake.

He's on the downside of his drunken stupor, more sleepy than buzzed if his drooping eyelids are anything to go by. His mustache lifts as he smiles down at Jake. It's still ridiculous looking but it makes more sense now that Jake knows his occupation. It's the only type of facial hair that's considered to be within regs.

Jake clears his throat. "You want me to take those off?" he asks, motioning towards the cuffs holding Bradley's hands behind his back.

"I might do something stupid if you do."

Jake freezes. "What?"

Before he knows it Bradley's kissing him. He connects their mouths with surprising ease. It's so smooth and he moves relatively quickly for someone who's mildly intoxicated that Jake doesn't even see it coming. Between Jake's surprise and Bradley's lack of hands, they're a bit top heavy and Jake has to fist the front of Bradley's t-shirt, his back hitting the side of the cruiser, to keep them from toppling over.

Bradley's mouth is warm, his lips pliant and soft, but he's firm in the kiss, unrelenting in the way that Jake couldn't have pulled away even if he wanted to.

He doesn't want to— he does— but he doesn't want to.

When he comes to his senses, Jake flattens a palm against Bradley's chest and shoves him away. Immediately his chest aches at the distance. He stands there, still half shocked, with his palm holding Bradley away at arm's length.

Really, he's not too sure what to do in this situation.

Bradley’s hazel eyes shine in amusement. He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Again Jake clears his throat. "Ahem— um, glad you got that out of your system," he says with a pat to Bradley's chest. And before anything else can occur, he swiftly steps around the other man and uncuffs his wrists.

Bradley groans in relief, bringing his hands in front of him to rub at his sore wrists. “I think your bondage play needs some work. Not that I’m complaining—”

“Go inside. Get some sleep, Bradley.”

Taking the not so subtle hint, Bradley straightens and fixes Jake with a mocking salute before he turns and makes him way to the front porch. He watches as Bradley unlocks the front door and turns to give him one last look before he steps inside.

“Until next time, Officer Seresin.”

Jake just shakes his head in disapproval, but he can’t disguise his smile. “There better not be a next time,” he calls up the driveway.

He doesn’t pull out the driveway until Bradley’s shut the door and he sees the porch lights flicker off.

Maybe he does like the night shift.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

hello! im a big fan of the childhood friends trope and was wondering if you could write that with alastor? (ex. what being friends with him as a child was like and how he’d act towards reader when theyre both in hell)

Life and Death

Navigation!! // Mastlierst!!

A/N: Clearing out my inbox is proving to be a lot harder than I thought, but nevertheless, I really enjoyed writing this so thank you so much for your request!! I actually wrote something similar to this, which I will link here in case anyone wants to check it out :)

The old manor on the edge of the forest was a place of whispered secrets and endless possibilities. It was here, among the ivy-clad walls and shadowed corners, that you and Alastor first crossed paths as children in 1910. The air was thick with the scent of adventure and mischief, and you were drawn together by an unspoken bond that only childhood friends could understand.

Alastor was a whirlwind of energy, always dreaming up new schemes and fantastical stories. You were his constant companion, eagerly diving into whatever trouble he cooked up. One day, Alastor burst into your room, eyes wide with excitement.

“Guess what I’ve unearthed!” he announced, brandishing a dusty, old book he had found in the manor’s attic.

You looked at him skeptically but couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. “What is it?”

“It’s a tome of ancient rites!” he proclaimed with a theatrical flourish. “We could summon something marvelous!”

Later that evening, under the flickering light of a candle, you followed Alastor’s instructions from the book. The ritual involved chanting in an archaic language and mixing some peculiar ingredients. Alastor’s dramatic flair was on full display as he recited the incantations with exaggerated gestures.

“Prepare yourself for an awe-inspiring spectacle!” he declared, his voice rich with anticipation.

You nodded, and moments later, the “ritual” resulted in a shower of harmless, yet dazzling sparks that illuminated the darkened room. You both laughed, delighted by the harmless chaos.

Despite his penchant for mischief, Alastor had a protective streak when it came to you. One day, a local bully who had a knack for tormenting other children cornered you near the edge of the forest.

Alastor, who had been hiding behind a tree, sprang into action. He marched up to the bully with exaggerated, theatrical bravado.

“Unhand my companion, you ruffian!” Alastor declared, his voice echoing with a dramatic authority that surprised even you.

The bully, taken aback by Alastor’s sudden appearance and his unyielding confidence, quickly backed down. You watched, both relieved and amused, as Alastor escorted you away with a triumphant grin.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, trying to suppress a smile. “But thank you.”

“Of course I did!” Alastor replied, puffing out his chest. “Who else could possibly defend you from such knaves?”

Your shared adventures and mischief were punctuated by quiet moments of reflection. After one particularly wild escapade, you’d sit together under the sprawling oak tree in the manor’s garden.

Alastor was sprawled out on the grass, staring up at the sky. “Did you know,” he mused with a playful glint in his eyes, “that the stars are the souls of ancient heroes, forever shining?”

You lay beside him, looking up at the sky as well. “Really? And what about us?”

Alastor turned to you, his expression a mix of seriousness and playful charm. “Well, we must be destined for greatness. After all, we’ve survived countless escapades without a scratch.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “And we’ll conquer many more adventures to come.”

Years later, in the chaotic, glittering world of Hell, your friendship with Alastor became a source of stability and comfort. The year was now 1910, and Alastor, having transformed into a powerful and enigmatic figure, still sought out your company. Despite his new persona, there was a spark of the old Alastor that remained when he was around you.

In the neon glow of Hell, you both found solace in each other’s presence. During a quiet evening, Alastor stood up, his posture exuding both confidence and nervousness. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he prepared to confess his feelings.

“Mon chère,” he began, his voice rich with an earnest emotion that contrasted with his usual theatricality, “even amidst all this ceaseless darkness, you’ve become a beacon of light in my existence. I’ve never felt this way before—not even when I was alive. Your presence… it’s something I can’t simply ignore.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you replied with the same mix of warmth and reserve that defined your relationship. “You’ve always been a part of my world, Alastor. Even now, despite everything that’s changed, I still see the child I once knew. And I can’t deny that I feel the same way.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken promises. As the night deepened, you both found solace in each other’s presence, a testament to the enduring bond forged in childhood and strengthened through the trials of the underworld.

In that moment, under the neon glow of Hell, you were not just two powerful entities but childhood friends rediscovering a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. The adventures of the past and the mysteries of the present merged into a shared future, one where the echoes of your childhood laughter resonated with the promise of something deeper and more profound.

[biggestqiblifan]

for the ask game :)

1, 11, 49

OMG

My inbox is so dusty fr.

I totally forgot about this, I don't even remember what its from! I'm so sorry.

K, as compensation for your troubles and as my apologies for being an inadept frog.

Make up 3 questions, whatever you wish. Your ask is my command.

[uglypastels]

Ok ok but the hellfire crew?? Do they only plunder and attack other ships or do they also treasure hunt?? Would you write something of them looking for a buried treasure or something please and thank you

absolutely!! This blurb is a part of the Not Wholly Evil pirate universe, but not necessarily a part of that specific story. It can be read as a standalone or prequel. please enjoy.

warnings: swords? mention of bugs. it's just a quick lil blurb so not very detailed and a bit messy, but i hope it still adds something :)

Not Wholly Evil masterlist - Taglist - Inbox - Reviewbox

‘Aha!’ Eddie erupted into a cheer as he put his spyglass down to put it back up to his eye again. The black tunnel had a clear vision at its end, the destination they had searched for all these weeks. The sea level was finally broken up by the white peaks of the mountains. Just like the tales had told it, there were four of them, one towering after the other. 

‘Whatcha got there, cap?’

‘Oh, Dusty,’ Eddie untangled himself from the nets and returned to the deck. ‘We finally found it.’

‘You mean,’ Dusty, his faithful boatswain, looked out into the horizon, despite the island only being a mere dot on the vision. ‘Crescent—’

‘Crescent Island, my friend.’ Eddie patted him on the shoulder, ‘We found Crescent Island!’ He shouted out into the open air, grabbing everyone’s attention. In an instant, the energy shifted. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at what they had been chasing for what felt like a true eternity. 

It was close now. So close. Only half a day sailing at best, ever faster, maybe if the wind picked up. They’d get there by sundown. 

‘Alright,’ though Eddie could not stop looking at the sight before him, he managed to turn away from the piece of land long enough to speak to his crew. ‘No need for all of us to go out there and get lost, so we need to do this smart. I need a deck crew to stay on board and care for our sweetheart.

‘Next, I need people to set up camp on the beach. If all goes well, we can pick up and leave before tomorrow is over, but we need a base, which leaves me with the party that will go out and explore.’

‘Aye,’ a chorus of response erupted from everyone around. As always, the rest was chaos. Nothing could be easily decided regarding this crew, but all tasks were clear after a few lost and won bets. 

Eddie called his party together in his quarters. For simplicity's sake, it was to be a small group. Harrington, Robin and Dusty gathered around him at the desk as Eddie spread out a roll of parchment, pushing all the others to the side. 

‘So, this is it?’ Harrington looked at it, not sure what to think of the map. Until now, he had only heard of it, as the captain had not been very open in sharing information about their destination. It is easy to say that if the crew had any less trust in him, Eddie Munson would have been a dead man, but along with all the trouble he has caused, he had not failed them yet. 

‘Yup,’ Eddie smiled proudly. ‘Isn’t she a beauty?’ The island’s name was self-explanatory, most likely derived from its actual shape. The half circle created a pool at its centre, into which the Hellfire was sailing directly. Eddie pointed with his knuckle at the southern tip of the land, ‘And here, we shall find the beast.’

‘I still don’t like the sound of that,’ Robin said, ‘I mean, should we be really heading into any place that is called that?’

‘It’s only been named that because it’s the guard spot of Old Man Jim’s gold.’ Dusty explained. ‘The beast that hoards the treasure will keep it safe.’

‘Yes, but I doubt dear Jim would want you to still be calling him that,’ Eddie chuckled.

Old Man Jim. He sure was a piece of work. Must have stolen gold from every ship known to man and hid it all here. It was a miracle Eddie had found out about it, let alone found the map that Jim had drawn up or even the island itself. He knew people had tried. They had given up their lives to retrieve what was hidden in those jungles, and now, he would do it. 

A few hours later, the Hellfire hit shallow water. The sun was setting over the mountains already, forming fang-like shadows over their heads. The Mouth of the Beast. 

The pinnace was released, and the crew sailed the last few yards to shore. Eddie opted against falling to his knees at the sight of the beach, keeping the moment until they found the gold and brought it back. But he still took the time to let the sand slide through his fingers. It was soft. Softer than any sand he had touched. The trees were greener, even in the dimming lights of the evening. The flowers ahead of them already invited them in with their sweet scent—something to be aware of. 

‘Do not eat any of the fruit here. You don’t know if it could be poisonous,’ he called out as preparations for the camp were made. ‘Unless you will bet your life on it, keep to what we took with us!’ 

Aye! 

‘Should we… wait until the sun is back up?’ Harrington stood by his side, and they both looked out at the wall of flora that made up their first hindrance. 

‘Probably,’ Eddie sighed, ‘but we don’t have time to waste.’

‘What—’ Harrington wanted to ask what the captain had meant by that but was abruptly deafened by his shouting for the rest of his crew. Robin and Dusty walked up, steps heaving with sand. 

‘C’mon, we don’t have time to lose; get everything you need for the night and meet me here.’

‘What, we’re leaving now?’ Robin asked, her lantern dangling in her hand. ‘Right now?’ She glanced up at Harrington, who just raised his shoulders in relinquish.

Since there was no fighting, the captain and the small party were ready to depart in mere minutes and soon on their way through the jungle. Harrington moved first, with a lantern in one hand and in the other, a contraption of his own design meant to cut down any root or plant in his way. It moved smoothly, but the deeper inland they moved, the thicker the branches got and the harder it was to cut them down. That is when the rest chimed in. Eddie, in the meantime, kept his eyes on the compass. He would have held the map, but it felt futile, considering he had memorised the image to its every detail. 

They were probably heading north for an hour when Eddie suddenly took a drastic turn to the left. 

‘So this is what you meant with “the way he gets” on land.’ Robin said, wiping the sweat off her forehead. 

‘This is nothing.’ Dusty said. 

‘You should have seen him looking for the Sea’s Heart,’ Harrington sighed as he followed the captain. 

‘Or on the Everard Isles.’ Dusty chimed in with another example. ‘Cannot forget the time he had nearly walked of the Dark Cliffs—’

‘In my defence, it was dark,’ Eddie said, ignoring the rest of the examples that were given or would be given after this… because there were many. He had spent the last five years sailing the seas, from one corner of the world to the other, scavenging all the places the lost scriptures had written about or strange diaries had talked of. 

Whatever reason he had was unknown by his crewmates. That was strictly between the captain and the sea. 

They could not be entirely sure how long they searched the island for. The only thing they could tell for sure was that by the time they had reached the foot of the mountain—where a black tree trunk stood in all its hollow glory— their bodies were burning from exhaustion, and the sun was coming out to greet them. 

‘This is it.’ Eddie looked up. Compared to the green vibrance around them, this tree looked like it had been dipped in ink; derived from all its colour and life, it stood tall and ominous. 

‘And here I was, thinking it could not be worse than the Beast.’ Robin laughed to herself. Even if the rest had heard her, they would not laugh. ‘So… what next?’ She swatted at a bug that kept buzzing at her ear. In the early hours of the day and late, and all those in between, the island swarmed with them. 

‘We go down.’ Eddie closed his compass and put it deep in his jacket pocket. 

‘What?’ Harrington blinked slowly, despite the fact that his brain was firing with thoughts at the insanity of the plan. ‘Down… down where, exactly?’ 

‘There,’ Eddie pointed down at the tree. When the party stepped closer, they saw that the tree had been, in fact, entirely hollowed out, and so had the ground underneath it, creating a tunnel. Before anyone could say anything else, Eddie took a deep breath and took his first step into the cave, as that is what it quickly turned out to be. The tree was simply an entrance into the mountain, deceptive in size. He had to lean down, not hit his head, but after a few steps, the ceiling rose above them. 

Their gasps echoed. So did their steps as they walked through the chamber and the paths. The corridors were cold and wet and dark, only intensifying with each step deeper they took until… 

Eddie halted in his step, pushing the rest of the party into a collision of bodies behind him. The rest gruntled as they regained stability and strained their necks to look over their captain’s shoulders. 

There was no cliff that he had led them to this time. No ravine or snake pit. No cobwebs or fallen trees blocking the road. No whirlwinds or storms. The four of them had walked into the largest cave they had ever witnessed, filled from wall to wall with gold, silver, and jewels.

Carefully, they stepped inside and with each step, coins rattled beneath them as they shifted around, falling from one heap to another. 

‘Oh, I like you,’ Eddie picked up a golden snake buckle, then turned to his crew, ‘right, let's take a crate. It is probably all we’ll manage, and more than we’ll ever need.’ It was never his intention to clean the slate. He knew how much dear Old Man Jim had worked on it and how many more men like himself could seek help in it… or return if the need for it emerged. He’d certainly like to come back here one day. 

thank you for reading. if you've enjoyed this story, and would like some more of these pirates, check out Not Wholly Evil (linked above) if you haven't yet <3 and requests for more one-offs are open

and please remember that you would make my day by reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you.

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

trips and crashes into your inbox. do you have any l/uigi snz ideas i wanna know 👀👀👀👀👀👀

Oh, gosh, sorry for the wait, my friend! Love me some Luigi, but school kicked my ass this semester…

But, now that it’s over, I have a few ideas for you:

1. Mario and Luigi are having a friendly competition of a course. However, Luigi is very competitive, since he wants to prove that he’s just as skilled despite being the younger and less experienced brother. Unfortunately, the course is quite icy and snowy, which makes it difficult for Luigi to traverse. However, he insists that they keep running the course until he wins. Luigi does win (perhaps Mario lets him), but now he is shivery, sniffly, and sneezy from the hours in the frigid air. Now Mario not only has to take care of his sick brother, but also comfort him, telling him that Luigi is valuable no matter how many courses he wins.

2. The Mario Bros. are at one of Princess Peach’s many post-saving parties. Mario is having a wonderful time, but Luigi is absolutely miserable, as being trapped in an ice block until his brother broke him out had given him a terrible cold. He hadn’t been able to take a break, and he was running completely on empty — but, always polite, he still tries to be a good party guest. Tries. Eventually, Mario and Peach realize that Luigi is practically hanging by a thread, and try to subtly lead him towards the royal chambers for some rest.

3. Luigi seems to be allergic to everything, from dust to spices to pet hair. But something that his nose is especially sensitive to is flowers — or really anything that grows. One day, he finds a power-up that happens to be a new species of flower. Since fauna power-ups, like the Fire Flower, usually didn’t give him any trouble, he bit into it with little thought. He did gain a new power, but no sooner had he gained it then his mustache began to quiver, and his nose began to itch. Before he could stop himself, Luigi sneezed mightily, setting off his new power and causing accidental destruction. Now he needs to keep his nose at bay, or he could destroy half of Mushroom Kingdom.

4. Luigi has been called on yet another ghost hunting mission. Reluctantly, he shows up at yet another mansion, vacuum at the ready. These spirits are very mischievous, and enjoy giving chase to the terrified plumber. But with all the running around, giant plumes of dust are kicked up, making it difficult for Luigi to hide without giving himself away with an enormous sneeze. The ghosts catch onto this quickly, and try to lure Luigi out with feather dusters and dusty books.

5. Luigi, being a bit on the clumsy side, has given himself the stuck sneeze to end all stuck sneezes. No matter how hard he concentrates, it seems like nothing will coax the sneeze out. He ends up going on his own small quest to find something to make him sneeze. Baking flour from Peach, wildflowers from the Toads, dirt from the Goombas…he goes across Mushroom Kingdom and beyond to curb his stubborn nose, even asking Bowser for help. Perhaps it’s a curse, or it could just be a very stuck sneeze…you decide!

I hope you enjoy these! Feel free to use them if one or two strike your fancy. :)

[anonymous-eggy]

i had been talking to a friend and we had an idea that had been stuck with me for a while😃

um. vampire au👀 mc can also be a vamp but VAMPIRE AU…Nicky with sharp teeth..hehe… and red glowing eyes…

apparently i lied when i said i wasnt very interested in Nicky anymore. i think its just seasonal. warm weather brings back the need to think ab him. time to go through my dusty old inbox and spout gibberish at the ghosts.

jealous of anon for having a friend to talk ab Nicky with fr. if only fictif didnt suck and get abandoned, I'd force my friends to play it.

AS HOT AS VAMPIRE NICKY WOULD BE...I HAVE TO TALK AB VAMP MC

poor Nicky trying to hide the fact that he, a catholic (or so he swears, despite not acting very catholic) sicilian mob boss, is in love with a chaotic arsonist (possibly queer as hell) vampire mc is so so funny.

Like. suddenly he's also completely nocturnal bc he wants to spend time around his love and Chris is like "dude you never wanna do meetings during the day anymore, why do i have to go to all your daytime meetings" and Nicky has to try to pass off an excuse.

----

Chris: whatcha got there?

Nicky, holding a parasol over his vampire lover while holding their drink: alcohol :D

----

also... him allowing mc to bite his neck and then practically begging for it next time you need blood bc surprise this 6 foot somethin' mafia boss found out he gets a lil hot, bothered, and submissive when you bite him and drink his blood. straddle his lap while doin it to feel the effects what who said that. anyway. uh. 👀

the absolute confusion this man would feel in terms of whats possible and his faith. can someone be catholic and horny for a vampire lover? surely he can bc he also finds it hot how "wrong" it is despite how good it feels. but yeah tbh he wouldnt think too much bc he canonically doesn't think too hard ab love he just goes with what he feels and doesnt question much further than that.

(side tangent: i adore him so much for being one of the only love interests I've ever seen that canonically uses no labels for his sexuality. no label representation. i adore that he doesnt wanna be put in a box. and its not just because he lives in the 1920s and doesnt have the word for his sexuality, he just truly doesnt vibe with labelling his sexuality. good for him. if you didnt know this, surprise! thats a fun fact from this dumbass who knows practically everything about his character bc i cant be chill about anything and must know everything)

anyway for example with my self insert(ish) mc: trans gay little vampire man who turns into a sgrunkly little bat and hangs from his chandelier in protest that Nicky had to go to a daytime meeting for once? Nicky comes out of the kitchen with a lil platter of fruits to lure him down for a cuddle by the fire place while sweetly apologizing bc god forbid he do his job and not suffer the wrath of a little clingy dustball squeaking at him.

OR NICKY TUCKING LITTLE BAT MC IN HIS COAT DURING THE DAY WHILE HE DOES HIS ROUNDS CHECKING ON HIS BUSINESSES?! he just reaches into his coat every now and then to give his love a little scritch on the head 😭 and everyone around him gets nervous that he's hiding something super valuable or dangerous that he doesnt wanna lose (which is true, but not in the way they think)

see also: Nicky getting into some trouble during the night and being all chill ab it and saying to the guys "oh im not the one you gotta be afraid of" and the guys laughing until guard dog Mc appears, absolutely pissed, hungry, and ready to hunt their fill for the night.

and mc just randomly one day being like "you realize im a good 200 years older than you, right." after Nicky says something that implies Mc is younger and Nicky immediately lights up and just begins asking baseball history questions, not even phased by Mc saying that. which is much to Mc's dread.

my brain worms have recently been obsessed with the concept of a mob boss falling in love with a vampire anyway, so this is prime thinks for me.

i shall continue rotating this in my mind.

[a-scaly-troublemaker]

Jane here.

I come from the epithet erased side of things I have to say.

Your quite impressive in terms of word count. Both your documents related to epithet erased easily exceed 5k words your quite dedicated.

I'll be watching,have confidence in your work,I believe in you.

Whenever I write a multi-chapter fic, I tend to exceed 5k words due to my writing style, and when I write accompanying note documents, they're detailed by necessity; I have a terrible memory.

Thank you for your support and your kind words. Sentiments like these fuel writers and artists to keep pushing to improve and finish their work.

[avatarskywalker78]

📖

The last several months I've been toying with the idea of having Tory be a Barnes - sparked by the fact that I heard that her being Mike's daughter was a theory at one point, and while that appears to have been jossed, and obviously isn't going to be the case in the bad boy 'verse because Mike's happily married with a family, thank you...it doesn't mean she couldn't be a Barnes, especially given that one of the constant facts of my series that Mike is estranged from the rest of his family so he wouldn't know if there were nieces or nephews.

So the story would start before the 2018 AVT - Tory Nichols has just transferred to West Valley High and Elaine can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about her, though her attempts to reach out over the next few weeks are rebuffed. Then one day she and her brother Alex are sorting out stuff in the attic and she comes across a bunch of old and dusty family photos, including some of her dad and his brothers from way back...and staring out is a young boy who looks remarkably like Tory. They ask Mike about him and he turns out to be Aaron, Mike's younger brother.

Obviously this isn't solid proof - as their elder sister Sarah points out, sometimes people completely unrelated to each other can look similar because genetics are weird like that - but Elaine was taught to trust her instincts, and her instincts are telling her there is something more to this story, and so the Barnes siblings team up and spend the summer trying to find out more information. Which they do - Aaron was married for some years before running off and abandoning his family, with the (ex) wife going back to her maiden name and taking the children with her.

The children being Tory and Brandon Nichols - formerly Victoria and Brandon Barnes. Sarah, Elaine, and Alex have two new cousins, but unfortunately they don't get to reveal that information to anyone before the school brawl breaks out. This time Elaine really does get involved and has to actively fight Tory to try and protect Sam, trying to appeal to her but getting nowhere because as far as Tory's concerned this is just some random girl. Sam doesn't get injured, but Elaine recieves a broken arm for her troubles - and Miguel still falls because he and Robby still end up fighting.

Mike and Leah want to raise hell over what happened, and this is when the siblings tell them what they found out - Tory is family, and they fear that, as she's likely to get expelled (and with Miguel nearly being killed) is going to be angry and upset and possibly seeking revenge. In other words, someone even more easily manipulated by Cobra Kai, as it's unlikely Johnny Lawrence will even return to the dojo.

And, well...Mike remembers being a seventeen-year-old with anger issues, remembers what it was like being part of Cobra Kai, and is aware that if things hadn't ended as they did his life would've ended up on a far darker path, and Leah knows how much having a reliable mentor in her father meant to Mike. At the end of the day, this is a teenager without any kind of good support system, and if nothing is done is going to end up right back in Cobra Kai's clutches.

And so Tory's S3 arc is about to play out very differently...

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

[httpknjoon]

im literally eating up all this a-listers content like it’s my last meal🧎🏿‍♂️

Q&A questions: what made you two decide to spend the holidays together?

has there been a role that took to much of a toll on you (physically, mentally, etc.)?

what’s the biggest argument that the two of you have had?

happy new year and i hope your classes aren’t giving you too much trouble!!

note | oh, anon... here i serve you your ✨𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓁✨ I tried not to give out spoilers about stuffs that I'll be posting soon but here it is! thank you so much for sending this, anon! happy new year to you too! i hope you're having a good day.

main masterlist | drabble series

"We had a busy year for 2021." you began, looking at Jin.

He agreed, "Yeah, almost half of that year our circle of friends didn't get to hangout much."

"So yeah, we tried to organize a getaway where all of our schedules would match and we all ended up being free for the holidays. Then, Jin said he is flying to Seoul for it so we just tagged along." you chuckled before speaking again. "Okay, let's move to the next question..."

You didn't mean to sound rush but it did came out like that. When read the question, Jin answered first, saying:

"Yeah, but I don't think it's because of the role. It's because of the circumstances of that time... So, I had a film that began production just two weeks before the lockdowns. It was starting good, we were in Europe. Then, just a couple of weeks there, we were told that we need to fly back here in the US because of the virus outbreak. It stressed me out badly since I really loved the role and the story that we were about to share. But since we had no idea when the virus ends, the production had to be on hold until it's safe."

"Oh, mine is when I was doing this action film. I was so excited to do a certain sequence because I trained for the whole eight weeks before production for the stunts. Then, I looked and felt really good because I was in this catsuit. A freaking tight catsuit in an action film because you know, it's Hollywood." you winked at the camera with the mocking tone in your sentence. "Anyways, so it was the day of filming. I had these wires attached to me. Then I did my sequence. But something went wrong with wires and I fell. Bad. I had an elbow injury and needed to rest for like a month and when I came back, I didn't got a chance to do what I trained for."

By the time you were finished sharing your experience, Jin's mouth was agape. "Oh my god. When was that?"

"I was nineteen, I guess. It was a long time ago. But sometimes I wished I could have done more stunts-- even though I'm an amateur in that area-- for that film."

"Well, will you be able to do stunts in the future again?" he asked out of curiosity.

You nodded, "Yeah, I think I can. If an offer comes, I'll think about it."

Cut to the third and last question, you and Jin looked directly at each others' eyes for a whole minute. Another scenario where you two would communicate telepathically, having second thoughts if you should answer it. You were shaking your head and Jin was nodding. It gets chaotic and you break down giggling.

"Let's just say, we had a fight about something. It was dumb--"

"It was a misunderstanding." Jin cuts you off.

"Okay, it's a misunderstanding. We ended up not talking for a long time. Like, really long time because I was somewhere for press tour and he was somewhere for production." you explained timidly, scartching the top of your head.

Jin butts in again with a mocking tone, "I was trying to reach out but--"

"Yeah, I kinda ignored his messages and calls. It was immature, I know. I apologized for it." you defended yourself. "But yeah, we only patched things up when I send him a picture of Francheskat to break the silence in our dusty conversation."

"Yeah, she said: hi. Then, followed by a picture of her cat. Then, I left it on seen for like an hour because I was about to go film when I saw that. Next thing I see, she flooded my inbox. I swear, I can feel her emotions getting intense in every message she sent." Jin chuckled.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Then, we had an adult conversation. Just few hours laters, I received flowers with a card in my hotel room that he ordered online."

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@seolaquotes @fatimaaaaa129 @bangtannieshope @jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @stoop187-blog @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @prlangston-blog @lovesickbangtan @zealouslightcookiebasketball @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @tpwk-280 @mediumcatt @bloopkook @stopeatread @sahazzy @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @moonchild1 ​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic ​ @buttvi​ @starbtslove​ @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi

[writingquestionsanswered]

i’m working on a relatively short story with a trio of best friends and i’m having trouble writing naturally platonic dialogue with sarcasm and banter. these characters are super close and i want to show that by having them be comfortable teasing each other, but they just come off as mean and rude. any tips?

Insults and Banter Among Friends

I think the key a lot of writers miss with this kind of banter is that it can't just come out of nowhere. If the reader has no prior context for an in-joke or insult, it's definitely going to come off as rude.

So, for example... I know someone who was really close with their grandmother, and they loved to tease each other with a lot of ageist insults. She called her grandmother "old as dust" or "bag of bones" and her grandmother called her "little brat" or "rugrat." People who weren't in on the joke would be shocked to the core at the way they were talking to each other, but those of us who knew them well had the necessary prior context to know they were joking, that they loved each other very much, and neither one were actually hurt or insulted.

You don't want your reader to be the people who have no idea what's going on and jump to the wrong conclusion. If you want to write a grandmother/granddaughter pair like the one I know, you have to establish this joke between them early on, show that it's all in good fun, that no one takes it seriously or is hurt by it. Later on, when the granddaughter calls the grandmother a "dusty bag of bones" and she responds by calling her a "bratty little pipsqueak," your reader will understand that it's just banter and is actually an expression of love and appreciation.

I hope that helps!

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[cgmayra]

Thanks for clarifying my last doubt because I can wait for a couple of requests but i was dying for at least requesting these here comes the first. A Sonic Prompt classic x boom the classic gang gets through an anomaly to bygone island hijinx and chaos will ensue... in more than one way pairings: Sonamy with some chips of Tailsooey with an healthy sprinkle of jealousy from the Boom Adorable Dorks on the top

Thanks for the prompt! I don't believe I've done Classic Sonic cast with Boom Sonic Cast before! Here's to some imaginative thinking!

PLEASE DO NOT SEND IN ANY MORE PROMPTS. INBOX IS CLOSED. Thank you for your readership ^^ DO NOT ASK/SUBMIT AT THIS TIME.

Prompt:

Due to the powers of the Phantom Ruby, Classic Sonic and his friends were once again plunged into a chaotic, dimensional rift that sent them to a new era and world.

Landing on a dusty island, Classic Sonic looked around him, wondering where his friends were.

Finding Boom!Sonic, he had to at first dodge his attacks as Boom!Sonic thought he was some kind of sick joke by Dr. Eggman, but soon realized after finding Classic Tails, that this was another him from another world.

"Oh, whoops! Sorry about that, little buddy... umm... Yeah." he rubbed the back of his head, apologetic, but not by much.

Classic Sonic just looked at him with a light glare of annoyance, tapping his foot as though Boom!Sonic put him through a lot of trouble.

"Let's try and find his other friends, Sonic!" Boom!Tails stated, then looked between the two, "Uhh... I mean... Sonic 1 and Sonic 2!" he crossed his arms and pointed to both Sonics.

"Hey! That makes me Sonic 2!" Boom!Sonic stepped forward but Boom!Tails just patted down his protesting, playful fist and flew up high into the air, "I'll get the villagers to help us look for them!"

Classic Tails nodded, turning to Classic Sonic who just threw him a thumbs up, and Classic Sonic took off to try and explore the island.

"Woah, there! Hey! Heh... doesn't slow down and even ask for directions..? Not scared of getting lost or the dangers of a completely new playing field..?" Boom!Sonic held out a hand before putting them both to his hips and looking as though he was complaining about Classic Sonic's behavior... before then spreading his arms out wide with a big grin on his face, "This guy is me!" he was now, suddenly, convinced and went off at high speeds after him. "Wait for me, little dude!" he called out, "Haha! I'm just messin' with ya... I'll race right by ya!" he grew competitive as the two Sonics soon were engaged in some hilarious, no-excuses and no real finish lines around the island. While Classic Tails searched, he ran into Zooey, so stunned by her prettiness that he went completely like a deer in the headlights.

"Zooey!" Boom!Tails flew down, landing by Classic Tails.

"Oh, Tails." she smiled and waved sweetly, "Is this..?" She pointed to Classic Tails who gulped... mightly....

Boom!Tails laughed awkwardly, scratching a finger to the side of his face as he looked between Zooey and his littler self from another world. He bent down and patted Classic Tails's head, "He's my... uhh... Cousin! Yeah! A cousin! Isn't he... uhh... cute?" he picked up little him and held him up, but for Classic Tails, it was too close to her face.

He covered his head, then threw his twin tails up over his head as an extra level of 'safety from the pretty face'.

"Oh!" she looked at the two soft tails.

"Uhh... Haha! Family gene!" Boom!Tails waved his own twin tails, "Heheh... uhhh... We're looking for my friend's... uhh... cousins, too!" he explained.

Zooey was on board, and soon after, Boom!Tails realized that Zooey thought his 'big older cousin with little kid' skills were quite 'admirably attractive.' To where Boom!Tails practically forgot all about Classic Tails's friends and finding them, but instead, tried to impress Zooey with how 'good he was with little kids.'

Classic Tails got fed up being treated like a child, and flew up to run away, going after his friends--even if it meant by himself!"

"No, no, wait, wait! Come on!" Boom!Tails grabbed his feet, trying to pull him back down, "Okay, okay! I know I'm being selfish, but this is the most she's noticed and praised me the entire time I've known her!"

Classic Tails glared back over his shoulder at him.

"... Okay, since this weekend, but plllleeeassseee!" He tugged to pull Classic Tails back, "I... nneeedd.... youuuuuu-wahh!" he took off into the sky as Classic Tails propelled them into the air.

Getting a high vantage point, Classic Tails spotted Classic Amy up a tree, being with Boom!Amy, trying to fight off some robotic Eggbots that were circling the tree like alligators to a dangling piece of meat.

Later, Zooey was captured by Eggman, and much like the Sonic Classic games, Boom!Tails and Classic Tails were able to save her like Sonic would Amy and take down Egghead.

She gave a kiss to Boom!Tails's cheek, and hearing Classic Tails fly off, licking his glove and slicking his three hair strands back to look 'fine' he held out his cheek for her too, fluffing up and tugging out his cheek hair as though showing he was prepping for it.

She giggled, and gave him a light kiss on the cheek too as Classic Tails spun slowly down to the ground with animated hearts around him.

"Hehe, you and your Cousin are funny... oh!" she noticed that Boom!Tails had also fallen to the ground, animated hearts around him as well.

"O-oh really? I hadn't noticed..." he shook out his head and then gave his littler, alternative dimension self a high five.

Classic Amy pointed in the direction she and Boom!Amy had found Knuckles and Classic Knuckles, but heading up the volcano, they found Classic Sonic and Boom!Sonic still in a race.

Their reckless behavior, and Eggman--thinking he's seeing double and trying to destroy both of them before they 'keep multiplying' and "Giving me a headache!"--fired back at them which set off the volcano.

Boom!Knuckles and Classic Knuckles were sparring, when they suddenly had to climb fast to avoid the rising lava.

Boom!Amy and Classic Amy worked together to save them, but found each other 'basically switching places' with the Echidnas from two different worlds.

"Oh great!" Boom!Amy caught Classic Amy in her arms, hugging her close as the lava increased around them. "I don't want to be reduced to a Damsel in Distress trope, ahhh..!" she cried out as Boom!Sonic and Classic Sonic, finally putting their race on a temporary pause--"Haha! You're quitting?! What... Amy? Ah... alright, but this is just part of the challenge! First ones to save their Amys gets a headstart!" Boom!Sonic lifted a leg up in synchronization with Classic Sonic, "Not that I'll need one~" Boom!Sonic winked to the camera and dove down, using his enerbeam, which surprised Classic Sonic, to combine his beam with Amy's, and helping pulling both girls out as Classic Sonic helped them race up the side wall of the Volcano and took out falling rocks on the way up.

The Sonic's were finally told that the finish line was the portal back home, Boom!Tails and Classic Tails having figured out how to channel back the Phantom Ruby, as it was officially declared a tie by Boom!Amy.

"What!? That's not fair, you blinked, admit it!" Boom!Sonic stomped up to her, pointing a finger as she just lowered her eyes, confidently.

"Couldn't have, I have a bias for staring very intently at you~" she flicked his nose and then looked down to Classic Amy as Boom!Sonic stopped the 'warbling doorknob' affect that happened to his nose, clamping it down. "And that's how it's done." she let her younger, alternative dimension self slap her hand and then wink, adjusting her skirt and strolling into the portal as though off to catch her a man!

Classic Tails spun around Zooey, taking her hands and bowing to her, about to leave when he flew back and kissed her cheek, covering his blushing face before kicking himself into the portal as he flew.

Zooey giggled, "He reminds me so much of you~" she cooed and flicked the top strand of hair on his head, making Boom!Tails cover his head with his arms and blush madly, chuckling awkwardly in his flustered state as well, mimicking Classic Tails's bashfulness to a 'T'.

A Tails, 'T'.

The two Knuckles slammed their mittened hands into each other's. "You were a worthy mirror-me." Boom!Knuckles stated, "I'm so glad I got to see myself through my own figment of imaginated self-reflection. Truly... I am my ultimate teacher." he bowed respectfully to the methaphor he felt he conjured while mediating to find self-appreciation, fulfilment, and understanding of his self.

Classic Knuckles... just threw a thumb back to this guy and looked t the others, adjusting his cowboy hat as though saying, 'Is this guy okay?' and then jumping back into the portal, done with that mayhem and chaos...

Boom!Sonic walked back with Boom!Amy, hands over his head as he stretched, "You... don't think we'll see them again... do you?"

Boom!Amy giggled, "What? Little baby forms of you and me?" she teased, as he flinched, turning around and glaring at her with a slowly raising eyebrow.

"Whaaaat are you implying?"

She laughed and waved it off, "I meant through pictures, Sonic!" she then looked away, hands behind her back, "Well... I do now." she stuck her tongue out to the camera.

(Got more into my idea of the ZooeyxTails stuff, but I think this is cute and I tried to keep it mostly in character XD Sticks isn't in 'Rise of Lyric' game with bygone island, at least, that was the reference I used, since the t.v show mostly calls it 'hedgehog village' or something like that? Anyway, and no jealousy here besides Boom!Tails using Classic Tails to get more attention from Zooey, haha XD I hope it was still fun for you all!)

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

To the Place I Belong

Fandom/OCs: None. New Vampire ‘verse, I guess

Words: 4995

Inspiration: This post about a vampire catching a cold from their prey and this long prompt from an anon in the ask box. 

!!~~CW: Mentions of the afterlife and undead (because ghosts) and people dying and blood (because vampires doing what they do). Nothing graphic or descriptive, but there are 2 mentions of a vampire feeding. If I need to tag anything else, lmk.~~!!

Prompts from this prompt list from @oh-no-my-hand-slipped used: 6) Warm Fireplace, 11) Dusty Library, 13) Stoic Monster, 14) Faux Fur/Costumes, 16) A Sickly Visitor, 19) Soaked to the Bone, 20) Embroidered Handkerchief, 21) Unlikely Caretaker, 22) Sudden Storm, 25) Scarf, and 30) Vampires

Author’s comments: And with that, I finished the October prompt list in three fics, just like I hoped! This prompt has been in my inbox for a very long time, and at last I found the right inspo to write it, thanks to @oh-no-my-hand-slipped. The longer prompts they provided at the end of their October prompt list were perfect for this. I combined the one about the sick vampire asking for shelter and the one about a ghost becoming the caretaker of a sickly visitor to create what you see before you, just in time for Halloween. Enjoy a little horror movie sickfic!

Godfrey woke from his most recent sleep, feeling more refreshed than he had in many days. The lingering malaise from his migraine still had its grip on him, but at least the headache and associated symptoms seemed to be on the way out. This episode was the most severe he'd had in quite some time. He hadn't been laid up for so many days in years. He was sure the household was missing him, just as he missed them. He desperately needed to go stretch his legs, and perhaps find a duster and a mop. This wing of the house had clearly been overlooked during the weekly dusting schedule a time or two. He intended to remedy that immediately. 

He swung his legs out of bed and stood, pulling his dressing gown around himself, then began to make his silent way through the halls. Arriving at the kitchen, he heard a group conversing within, and he paused just out of sight in the threshold when he realized they were talking about him. 

“It’s certainly been nice without the old windbag around for a few days, eh? We can actually get some real work done rather than repolishing the silver three times over,” one voice said jovially.

The wait staff tittered in agreement. 

Godfrey frowned. That lad Conrad was nothing but trouble. He’d told the master so many times. He would see to it that he didn't have time for idle gossip anytime soon. 

“It’s such a relief to not have him breathing down our necks constantly,” Sabine spoke up, her sweet voice making him jump. “Sometimes he gives me the shivers. I feel I need to be looking around the corner every moment to be sure he’s not staring at me, waiting for me to slip up.” 

If Godfrey had had a beating heart, it would have shattered into a million pieces. Sabine, the beautiful, delicate, sweet butterfly Sabine, thought him creepy and was apparently glad he had been laid up and away from her. She was the reason he woke up with a smile each day and the reason he looked forward to the drudgery of work, but she wanted nothing to do with him. He felt like a hole had been ripped in his chest.

He made his way back to his bedroom on shaking legs. He let himself fall back into bed, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing. He wished he was capable of crying. Emotion this strong needed some outlet, yet there was nothing. He felt so empty. 

He was unsure how long he lay there, but it was certainly many hours. Whenever anyone came near his door or knocked he pretended to be asleep. As the minutes trickled away and his frozen heart continued to break, a plan began to form in his mind. 

In the brightest part of the day, when the rest of the household would be in their quarters, he began to pack up all his meager belongings. In no time his whole life was reduced to two bags. Just as twilight was approaching, he crept his way through the silent halls of the manor, through the secret door in the library, and out onto the street, burying his face into his scarf, the softest and most familiar thing he owned. He didn't once look back. 

His thoughts drifted briefly to his master as the estate disappeared around a bend in the road. Lord Brighton would miss him, and he was perhaps the only one who would. Thinking of the master's forlorn face upon realizing his departure almost made him turn back to say goodbye. However, he stuck out his chin and marched on. Vampire butlers were a dime a dozen in this part of the world. Godfrey had only served at his current post for less than two centuries– A drop in the bucket for an immortal. His master could find another butler, and he could find another position. 

Godfrey intermittently walked and ran for two days and nights without stopping, relying on his inhuman stamina to press on. He kept his mind far from his former home and instead focused on the nature around him, trying to manufacture pleasure he did not feel.

The only reason he was able to walk for so long was that it started to rain in the middle of his first night of walking and didn't cease for the entire two day period. While being constantly wet certainly made him miserable, it allowed him to not have to stop during the day, so he was perversely happy with his lot. In fact, the dampness suited his mood perfectly. 

After the first day of walking, he found he was famished, especially following a week of being unable to hunt due to his migraine. He made his way into the nearest town and used the usual methods to find a lonely, homeless individual who would not be missed, a feat in which all vampires are well-practiced. Locating the perfect target with no issue, he hunted, fed, and was satisfied. He pressed on walking with hardly any delay, and it wasn't until a few hours later that he realized something was amiss. 

Because he had been cold and wet for so long, he didn't notice how much he was sniffling until he was surprised by a sneeze, which was immediately followed by a second. He never sneezed twice in a row with normal irritants, so this caught his attention right away. He hesitantly pulled down his damp scarf to swipe at his nose. It was definitely cold and apparently dripping. This was not a good sign. Nor was the sore, irritated quality his throat seemed to have taken on, or the way his neck and ears were beginning to ache. 

He thought back to his meal a few hours before. Perhaps their nose had been red, and perhaps there were tears in their eyes. This is common for those who realize they are going to die. He certainly hadn't spent any time getting to know them, so yes, it was a possibility that the prey had had a cold which had escaped his notice. Nothing else could easily explain the sneezing.

He cursed his rotten luck. Minor, hangover illnesses from sick prey were a known hazard for blood drinkers. The symptoms were mild, lasting a day or so at most and were often hardly noticeable. However, when the illness was allowed to fester and take root, a blood drinker could get sick as severely as the original host, or even worse. And what better conditions existed for a cold to worsen than a soaking rainstorm and a victim that was still weak from a recent  migraine attack? 

Godfrey hoped against hope that the illness would be fleeting and kept walking. However, in the intervening hours the rain gradually became a thunderstorm, and the chilly breeze became a driving wind, pelting the drops into him relentlessly until he was shivering just as relentlessly. The cough, too, quickly became constant. He had long since given up on his nose, letting it run freely into the soaked scarf. He was all but blind, and his other senses just as useless. Between the weather and his rapidly worsening cold, he felt like a sitting duck. As dawn approached, he knew he couldn't go on much longer. He began to seek out shelter, desperate for some relief. 

Finally he noticed an overgrown lane, hardly visible, that turned away from the path he was taking. Following it, he came upon a decrepit manor house that was clearly abandoned. The roof and walls seemed mostly intact, though, as did the chimney, and that was all he cared about at the moment. He nearly groaned in need at the thought of a warm fire and prayed the fireplace would draw at least a little. 

He crept his way to the front door, keeping watch for anything or anyone nearby, but the driving rain masked any sign of life. He pulled the door open with little hesitation, sneezing several times immediately at the dust that was stirred up. His nose still buzzing, he attempted to enter, but found to his dismay that he was unable to cross the threshold. There was an inhabitant, then. Suppressing another groan he called out hoarsely:

"Hello? Is anyone there?" 

As he stood sniffling in the doorway, an opaque figure appeared, hovering in front of him, and Godfrey jumped back in shock. The ghost of a portly man with a monocle, dressed very much as Godfrey himself was under his coat, surveyed him with his arms crossed, an impassive expression on his face. 

"What's all this, then?" the ghost drawled. 

Godfrey took a tentative step forward, putting on a brave face despite his chattering teeth. "G-good morning, s-s-sir… Hh!- hgg'KHHTCH! M-My name is Godfrey Du Maurier. I have walked m-many days in the r-rain… hihg'CHUHH! And I'm in dire need of r-r-rest… hhH'CHUUH! W-would you allow me to t-take sh-shelter in your h-home until… hih!- HEHHTCHOO! Until the s-storm p-p-passes?"

With every sneeze, Godfrey grew more weary and desperate. The ghost stared at him for another long moment. The vampire feared that if he was denied entrance he may collapse where he stood either way, as his limbs were trembling violently with cold and fatigue. 

The ghost seemed to sense this. "Oh all right, then. I can't very well leave a sneezing, sodden bat on my doorstep in good conscience. Come in, you wretched thing." He stood aside. 

Godfrey practically ran inside, a deluge of thanks flowing past his frozen lips. He made his way to the first chair he saw and collapsed into it with a chesty cough. The ghost hovered in behind him, shutting the door with a quick gesture, though of course he could not touch it.

Every movement Godfrey made seemed to stir up a cloud of dust, and his eyes and nose continued to stream as he tried to keep the sneezes at bay. The vampire pulled out an embroidered handkerchief, as soaked as the rest of him, and tried to dab at his nose. He didn't dare blow into it, though he desperately needed to. The ghost watched all of this curiously. Sensing his stare, Godfrey turned to the ghost blearily. 

"I don't b-believe I caught your n-name," the vampire croaked, hardly intelligible around the clogging congestion. 

"Heavens bless me, it seems I've forgotten cordiality after all this time. Forgive me. You may call me Rembrandt."

"Rembrandt. It's a pleasure to meet you." Godfrey sincerely wished his host's name had less M's and N's and T's, for he feared offending him with his current pronunciation capabilities. "Would it b-be possible for m-me to build a f-fire here in the g-g-grate? I've t-taken an awful chill as you can s-see, and I n-need to d-dry my things."

"Of course, good man, of course. You must be soaked to the bone. I'll direct you to the wood. Much of it has been scavenged away over time, but there's a few old chairs around that no one will miss, myself least of all, you know." He chuckled at his own joke and floated away, evidently in search of wood, and Godfrey could only follow. 

In due time a fire was kindled, and Godfrey had drawn a chair up to it, as close as he dared. The chimney still drew like a winner, so that was one small mercy, for he didn't think he could survive being surrounded by smoke on top of the rest. Though couldn't feel fire near his icy skin when he was well, it seemed to do some good when he was ill, and over time he felt a touch less frozen. More importantly, though, he could begin drying his clothing. He sighed in relief when his soggiest outer layers were removed and hanging over the grate, beginning to steam from the heat. The handkerchief hung there too, and as he spread it near the blaze, the vampire looked at it for a long moment–the last remaining token of his old life, embroidered with the family crest. However, his cold left no time for sentimentality. The urge to sneeze quickly overwhelmed his sinuses once more: 

"HihhhzZ'IHHSH'oo! IHHHZzshoo!" With his handkerchief hanging to dry and everything else that might serve as one covered in dust, there was nothing with which to catch his damp, sickly sneezes, so his sleeve had to suffice. He shuddered as he pulled his face away, unable to look at the aftereffects. 

"I say old thing, Godfrey you said it was? Godfrey, of course. Well I say, Godfrey, how did you get yourself in such a state? I've met a few chaps like you in my time, and I didn't think your lot could catch cold, especially so violently, yet you seem to have done a bang-up job of it."

Godfrey smiled wanly. "Such misfortune finds even our kind now and again, and I was unlucky enough to be found a few days back, the climax in a series of unfortunate events. But really, it's nothing serious. I'll be alright in no time." He could speak no more for the coughing fit that snuck up on him just then.

"But how ever did you keep on walking in this state? Any other creature would have given up long since. You must be feeling bloody awful."

Godfrey only shrugged. "It will pass in time, but I'm sorry for the intrusion in the interim. I will be out of your way as soon as darkness falls and my things are dry." His voice had rapidly declined to only a hoarse, painful whisper, congestion notwithstanding.

The ghost's bushy eyebrows jumped up, and he floated a few inches higher in indignation. "Now see here, old chap, you needn't hurry away so quickly. In fact, I insist you stay until you're feeling better and the rain has stopped. I'm not sure how much comfort I can give you, but you'll at least have a roof over your head and your choice of any number of beds, dusty though they may be, and access to a fire, since it seems you sorely need it. I couldn't live with myself if I let you leave here such as you are."

In his exhausted state, the invitation seemed too good to be true. A slow smile spread over Godfrey's face as the words sunk in. "Dearest Rembrandt, you are my savior on this day. I thank you for your generous offer and gladly accept, though I hate to impose." 

"Impose? My good fellow, I've been alone in this dusty old tomb for decades now, and there's only so many times one can float over the same floors. I welcome the company and will do all I can to make you comfortable. After all, I was the head butler and chief of staff here during my living years."

Godfrey's eyes brightened slightly. "That's my title as well. Or it was. I'm in search of a new position and a new staff as it were, which is why I'm traveling, of course."

"Indeed." Rembrandt's eyebrows raised slightly, but his tone was neutral. 

"Yes, but we needn't go into all that now," Godfrey said quickly. He looked around himself with heavy-lidded eyes, sniffling fruitlessly against his blocked sinuses. "As for choice of beds, if it's all the same to you, I will sleep right here on this rug by the fire, at least tonight. I am only just starting to dry out, and I have need of the heat a while longer." He wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself and slowly sank down onto the dusty Persian rug without further ado.

"Of course, of course," Rembrandt said. "Think nothing of it. I will leave you to your rest, and will keep the fire high for you as you sleep."

"I am indebted to you, sir," the vampire mumbled, already nearly unconscious. 

Rembrandt was true to his word, and had a passerby looked in the window during the next day (not that such a thing had occurred in decades), they may have seen bundles of wood, usually parts of various old pieces for furniture, float themselves periodically through the room to land on the fire, moved by some invisible force. Godfrey hardly stirred through this and slept like the dead that he was. Occasionally Rembrandt would silently materialize at his side to check on his guest, then disappear just as quietly upon finding him unchanged. 

Almost eighteen hours later, Godfrey woke at last just as evening was approaching. It took him a moment to remember why he was sleeping on the floor, but he sat up with a start as the memory of the past week came flooding back. As if he had been summoned, Rembrandt appeared at his side just then, looking jovial. 

"Good day to you, Du Maurier! I trust you slept well. Or as well as one can on the floor, at any rate."

"I did, thank you. I'm feeling much better already," Godfrey croaked thickly. The wet, fitful sneezes that he emitted only a moment later betrayed his words slightly, but he was at least no longer shivering and looking on the verge of collapse. Rembrandt beamed at him. 

"Good show, old thing! We'll have you right as rain in no time."

"How can I ever repay you for your kindness to me? Is there anything at all I can do for you?" the vampire asked earnestly. 

"While I commend the thought, sir, I rather doubt there's anything you could do for me," the ghost replied with a rumbling laugh. "When one is the sole, incorporeal occupant of a haunted house, gift giving becomes rather superfluous, you know."

Godfrey looked around for a moment. "Perhaps I could improve your living quarters, such as they are? I could clean the house for you. See to the dust and all. Neaten it up a bit."

Rembrandt's brow furrowed as he considered this. "That's certainly not necessary. I don't–"

"Please allow me. I must do something to thank you."

Rembrandt chewed on his lip. "Oh all right. If you insist," he said, clearly unconvinced. "Still, take another day of rest, old chap. You've only just started to recover."

"If I sit and rest, I'll only become melancholy," Godfrey said, leaping up. "I must keep myself active. Pray tell, where can I find a broom and duster?"

The reluctant ghost pointed him in the direction of the cleaning implements, and Godfrey fell to his self-assigned task with a will. He didn't rest for the next three days as he turned the old house inside out and cleaned it from top to bottom. At first Rembrandt floated in his wake, futilely trying to intervene or protesting that the vampire needed to rest or that this or that room or item didn't need to be touched. Godfrey was an unstoppable force, though, and after a while Rembrandt fell silent and just watched helplessly to the side. 

The vampire cleared out all the broken, rotting furniture, scrubbed every window and floor, and rearranged the remaining furniture in the rooms, letting fresh air into some of them for the first time in centuries. Though he had some difficulties (the dusty library in particular gave his still-sensitive nose a good deal of trouble as he wiped down each and every shelf), there was no mistaking the transformation by the end of the third day. The old house was hardly recognizable. 

However, Godfrey worked himself into quite a state in the process. By the time the final room was clean, it was all he could do to stagger to his bed in front of the fireplace, still sniffling and sick-sounding, but now weak and wracked with pain as well. His body wasn't used to such exertion or so much sneezing, but more than that, he was utterly starving after expending so much energy while ill. He was burning with thirst, which exacerbated the cold symptoms even more. Yet he was wary of hunting in this remote area, not wanting to attract any attention to this manor after so many years of peace, not to mention the unfortunate outcome of his last meal. For many hours he could only lay in front of the fire, shaking and groaning. 

Rembrandt was clearly nonplussed by everything that had transpired. If he knew not how to respond to Godfrey's manic cleaning, he was even less certain how to respond to his clenched, aching stillness. He could only hover nearby, keeping the fire high by levitating sticks of wood into it from time to time. 

"I say, old thing, I think you must go see to your… needs. Anything has to be better than this agony of yours, and you mustn't worry about me. It's been quite some time since I've had to haunt any ruffians, and I wouldn't mind the excitement, you know. I really can't stand to see any creature so miserable."

After a long pause, the ill vampire slowly nodded. "If you're sure. I'll go as soon as I can walk," he said faintly. “I must. I don’t know how I’ll survive otherwise.”

He made good on his word. The next day he was recovered enough to hunt, though he was sluggish and slow by blood drinker standards, and his entire body still ached. Yet in any state a human could never be a match for such a predator, and he was able to hunt and satisfy his needs without issue. 

With nowhere else to go, he made his way back to Rembrandt's manor feeling his old strength coursing through him once again, though the meal made him tired. Returning to his temporary home, he immediately lay down in front of the fire and fell into a deep and restful sleep, the first he'd had in weeks. He woke the next day, feeling like a new creature. The fresh blood finally erased the lingering cold symptoms and this change in health made him as cheerful as if he were walking on clouds. 

Rembrandt was amazed at his transformation when he returned, and continued to be quite perplexed by this strange vampire and his mercurial moods, not to mention unsettled by all the changes he had wrought after centuries of sameness. However, above all else the ghost was a cheerful sort, so of course he was happy to share in the vampire's good spirits.

For his part, Godfrey was now enormously fond of the ghost, whom he considered to be his rescuer, and was eager to continue to show his gratitude. 

"What do you say I set up housekeeping here with you permanently? Keep this old house in shipshape, hm? I've grown quite fond of being here with you and I can't think of a better living arrangement. This suits my tastes perfectly," Godfrey said eagerly. 

Rembrandt glanced around at the sparse, dingy furnishings and the heap of blankets on the floor that still served as the vampire's bed, since the dust still caused him to sneeze too much to sleep in any of the real beds. The ghost cast around for something to say to dissuade him. 

"I say, old thing, are you quite sure? Just because I'm forced to haunt this broken down relic doesn't mean you are. Why would you want to stay here when you have the whole world to explore?"

Godfrey made a face. "I have no desire to explore the world. There is plenty to do here. In fact, today I was going to start cleaning out your closets, now that the main rooms are in better shape. Then I'll start on the linen, once this dratted rain stops. But the closets are quite enough to be going on with."

Without waiting for a reply, Godfrey ran up the stairs and into the nearest bedroom, throwing open the closet door. However, he stopped short for a moment, for inside was a strange collection of items which seemed to be largely comprised of faux fur and feathers of all colors and shades. 

"Did I never tell you the master and mistress I used to serve were denizens of the theater?" came Rembrandt's voice from behind him, sounding resigned. "Yes, yes, they managed several acting troupes over the years and lived to be on stage until the day they died. They could never bear to throw away any costumes. There was always another show and another use for it, you know. That's what all the closets in this house are full of."

If the idea of cleaning out years worth of stage props intimidated Godfrey, he didn't give any sign. He simply rolled up his sleeves and jumped into the task readily. 

Rembrandt watched without comment, sighing heavily from time to time as his only input. After some time he floated away, still sighing to himself. Godfrey didn't notice him go, so involved was he in his project. 

The faux fur and feathers were unbelievably dusty, and in no time the vampire was sneezing as if he were in the worst of his cold again. So violent was his reaction to the long-undisturbed dust that he didn't hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It was only when a soft, sweet voice called his name that he turned with a start, still hunched into his handkerchief. Through streaming eyes, he saw the delicate form of his beloved Sabine standing in the doorway. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. Godfrey slowly stood upright, but remained silent. He would not be the first to speak. 

Sabine was clearly nervous; her hands were clasped and trembling at her chest. "Hello Godfrey. Are– are you well? You sound as if you've taken ill."

"I'm fine, thank you. It's only the dust making me sneeze. But what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"I– we followed your trail. When you disappeared from your bed last week, we began to look for you immediately, the whole household. We all but lost you with all the rain, and if you hadn't hunted yesterday, we might have lost you forever. Your trail crossed ours just in time though, and we were able to follow you back here. 

"Why did you go to such trouble?"

"The master he– he's distraught without you. He will not rest until you're found. He was mad with worry over you." 

"The master. Of course." Godfrey looked away, unable to keep a bitter expression from crossing his face. "Well you may inform his lordship that I am well but I will not be returning to my post. He must seek another butler."

Sabine's face crumpled. "But… why? Why are you abandoning us to live in this tomb?"

"I was neither wanted nor appreciated, except by his lordship. I have no desire to continue my tenure. Express my regrets to him, but he will have to find a replacement."

He saw more questions in her eyes, and her lip trembled with unspoken emotion. In spite of himself and against his better judgment, he continued:

"Oh I've heard what the staff used to say about me. The way I ran the household was not to the satisfaction of the rest of you. You enjoyed yourselves more when I was absent. So I made my absence permanent. You should not have followed me. It would have been easier for all of us. But you must leave now. Return to your home and forget about me."

It seemed that if Sabine could cry, tears would be running down her cheeks. "You can't leave us, you just can't. What will we ever do without you?" she cried. 

"I'm sure you'll all get along just fine and likely be happier without me."

Sabine took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "But Godfrey I… I could never be happy without you nearby. I have realized that these past weeks, and was too blind to see it before. I thought you made me nervous because you were so strict, but really you made me nervous for… for other reasons," she finished, her color very high.

This left Godfrey speechless and for a moment he could only stare at her again. 

"Do you really mean that, Sabine? Are you speaking truth? Or have I perhaps become delirious with fever somehow?"

Sabine took a step closer to him, her eyes shining. "With all my heart I mean it. Now come, let's go home where we belong and be happy again. And happy, perhaps… together."

The last words were said shyly, but it was clear to see she meant every word. In a dreamlike haze, Godfrey let her take him by the hand and lead him down the stairs to the door. Catching sight of an opaque figure in his periphery, though, he stopped short and faced his rescuer, who was beaming at him. 

"Well Rembrandt, it appears I'll not be staying after all. I do hope you understand, but my place, it seems, is elsewhere."

"Why I knew that from the moment I saw you, dear bat. Of course you weren't meant to stay here. This place is hardly big enough to house two lost souls."

"I suppose so. I'll never forget you, though. If it's all the same to you, I'll drop by a time or two to see how you're getting on and make sure you're not getting dull and boring."

Rembrandt laughed uproariously. "Good show! I should like that very much. Drop by any time, old chap. Though perhaps you'll forego being so beastly ill when we next meet. I’d quite like to never repeat that performance."

"Will do,"Godfrey laughed. With a final salute, he took Sabine's arm, grabbed up his possessions, and took his leave. As they turned down the lane, the creaking front door swung shut behind them, so gently one would think it was propelled by a breeze rather than a ghostly hand.