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five-rivers · 1 year

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The Soul Trade(ing Card Game) Chapter 2

As was dictated to me by the poll, I have delivered.

(AO3)

“So, uh, Batman,” said Constantine, hating everything about this, “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

“Hn,” said Batman, and Constantine understood he had the man’s whole attention, even though he didn’t look away from the screens arrayed before him. Monitor duty. Constantine was glad the Justice League Dark didn’t have to do that.

(At least, he thought they didn’t. If anyone had ever told him they did, he had promptly forgotten about it.)

“I need you to look into whoever left me this letter.” He dropped the letter on the desk next to Batman and flexed his hands. Yeah, the magic in it was sure something, but it was passive, as far as he could tell, traces picked up from being around something infinitely nastier. It was safe. Probably. It hadn’t blasted any of the people who had handled it between the desk in the Hall of Justice and the Watchtower, anyway.

Batman glanced up only briefly before taking the letter. He read it, quickly, without his posture changing at all.

“Hm,” he said, the tone of the grunt just slightly more contemplative. “Are the claims in this letter legitimate?”

“Well,” said Constantine, “let’s just say that reading it felt like…” His face twisted as he tried to find the words to describe what it had felt like. “Yeah. Even if this bloke doesn’t have everything he says he does, he has… a lot. There are traces on the letter, magically speaking.”

“What’s the effect of that?”

“God if I know,” said Constantine. “I didn’t even notice this. At least, he could go ahead and cast whatever spells on me he wants. Soul’s a lot more intimate.”

With a press of a button, the screens went dark. “You shouldn’t be up here if you’re compromised.”

“Hey, I didn’t even know about this until ten minutes ago!”

“Return to ground.” Batman stood and loomed over him. “I’ll look into who sent this letter and tell you my findings.”

That was probably the best Constantine was going to get. Honestly, he didn’t even want to be on this glorified deathtrap in the sky.

He didn’t like the feeling of getting kicked out, though.

“I’m going to need the letter back. I’ve got my own tests to run on it. Get an idea of what kind of nasty we’re dealing with. Magic stuff.”

Batman handed it back. “I’ll walk you to the Zeta Tubes.”

“What do you mean someone bought your soul?” asked Zatanna. “I thought you’d already sold it ages ago.”

“Yeah, but I guess souls can be resold. Should’ve realized that demons would try to replicate the whole banking hellscape we have here.”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind,” said Constantine, letting himself sprawl backwards in the chair. It leaned dangerously, the weak leg bending. “I did sell it. I sold it a bunch. Got it set up so no one could really claim it without the others freaking out. Set some time limits on a few earlier ones, that worked pretty well, but, eventually, that didn’t work anymore, no one would bargain for that, and I figured my soul was pretty much a lost cause anyway…” He tucked his hands in his pockets and fingered the lid of his flask.

“Don’t you dare start drinking while I’m here.”

He hauled himself forward. “Far as I can tell, what’s written in the letter is true, as far as the owning part goes. The whole sorry bit and the let’s meet bit, I’m less clear on.”

He did have some thoughts on how to deal with it. But he wasn’t sure how well it’d work, and the guy - if it even was a guy - was a complete unknown.

He shrugged. “I was hoping for a second opinion.” And maybe a bit of… comfort. Something. It felt like the only time he saw Zatanna anymore was if the Justice Morons were poking at stuff no one sane would come close to with a ten foot pole.

(He missed her.)

(He missed when they used to be an item.)

(Which was stupid of him. But he’d never claimed not to be.)

(She wanted to keep things professional though, so. He’d try.)

Zatanna paced around the table. It was clear except for the letter, Constantine having expended much effort into cleaning it off (dumping it onto the nearest alternate flat-ish surface, the seat of a sagging armchair).

“I don’t know how much more I can tell you. There’s magic here, but it’s traces, and it’s… muddled. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, love.” So much for being professional. Sue him. Some things just slipped out.

Zatanna nodded, evidently not even noticing. “Laever ruoy sterces,” she said, staring intensely at the letter. She shook her head. “Laever sesruc. No, no curses, at least. That’s a relief?”

“Yeah, I guess. But he doesn’t exactly need to curse me through a letter if he’s got everything he says he’s got.”

“Don’t give up just yet. Let me try a few other things. Ezylana eht snigiro fo eht lacigam secart no sight retter. Wow, huh.”

“What?”

“Well, like I said, there are all sorts of magical traces on this thing. Demon magic, which is expected, bits of yours, some of the ambient stuff the Watchtower picks up… but there’s also a lot of spirit magic.”

“You think we’re dealing with some kind of shaman? A summoner?” In addition to demons and whatever else, that was.

“Maybe,” said Zatanna. “There’s death, here, too, but I can’t tell if it’s outright death magic or necromancy.”

Constantine groaned. “The difference is academic. I’m screwed. S’pose I should be grateful or something he didn’t hit me with a compulsion to show up and grovel in front of him, felt the need to give me a heads up before he tortures me for sport or whatever necromancers do for fun.”

Zatanna made a face, but it was very telling that she didn’t deny it was a possibility.

“Just promise me you won’t go looking for this person on your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the Bat on it. You know him. Tall scary guy. World famous detective. About as boring as he is scary with all his rules.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Zatanna. “You’re going to need magical backup for this. Call me. Or at least someone who knows what they’re doing.”

The opposite of what he wanted to do, really. People died often enough around him without actively dragging them into his problems, and this was a massive problem.

“Can’t make any promises.”

Because Constantine couldn’t really do anything else about the letter or its contents (besides scream inside his head and swear at himself), he decided to go about business as usual. Exorcisms, investigations, a touch of vampire stabbing, a few (disappointingly dry) ghost hunts. Normal stuff.

At least, it was normal until the demons started to run away from him. They didn’t usually do that, not even the weak ones. He did have a reputation, but not one like that. His reputation was that of a cheat and a con… and someone who got people close to him killed. None of that really put off bloodthirsty demons, who were a right pain to genuinely kill, and who often as not had some connection to old Lucy.

But they were running now, and not just the weaker ones. They weren’t even fighting him. Not getting hellfire tossed at him was nice, but demons were not nice. Ever.

So, what could he do but catch one?

He walked around the circle, double checking to make sure the scuffle with the little imp hadn’t scuffed any lines. He’d made mistakes like that before, and they were never pretty.

“So,” he said, lighting a cigarette, “what’s a demon like you running from little old me for?”

The demon, predictably, hissed at him. Constantine rolled his eyes. Typical.

“I’m going to ask you again, and if you don’t answer, things are going to get real unpleasant for you.” He pointed at those circle. “Read ‘em, if you don’t believe me.”

The demon arched itself like a cat, which was an interesting choice seeing as it wasn’t at all cat shaped.

“You were chasing us, John Constantine,” it said in a deep voice that belayed its size.

“Yeah, and that’s usually your lot’s cue to turn around and jump me. What’s different?”

The demon laughed, unpleasant and high-pitched like a teakettle coming to a boil. “What’s different? What’s different? John Constantine, you know what’s different.”

“Humor me here.”

It chuckled and started pacing around the inside of the circle. “Who owns you, John Constantine?” it asked in a silky voice. “Where is your soul, John Constantine? Not with you. Not with the First of the Fallen. Not with any of the princes of hell, or any god in its palace. Who owns you, John Constantine?”

“What, you’re saying that just because Lucy doesn’t have dibs on me when I die anymore, none of you are interested? Try the other one, it has bells on it.”

“Fool!” shouted the demon, now sounding disturbingly human. “Fool! Fool! A fool you are, but we are not, oh, no. No, no, no, we are not. What manner of thing could steal from them? What manner of thing could satisfy so many demons? What manner of thing could have such essence that it clings to you even now? Who owns you, John Constantine?”

Those were some good goddamn questions. “You’ve got a name for me, or is this you saying you don’t actually know, you’re just so freaked by the idea of it you’re shaking in your boots? Scales. Whatever.”

“Do not mock us, John Constantine,” it said, back to sounding properly demonic. “We are no fool! We know you will suffer.”

Yeah, well, that was just the natural state of the universe, wasn’t it? In any case, it didn’t look like this little punk had any idea what it was talking about. They didn’t tend to be very bright, just smart enough to parrot what they overheard from more powerful demons and dumb enough to give up information when threatened with basic binding spells.

He banished the imp back to Hell with a twist of his fingers.

So. Whoever or whatever had gotten their hands on Constantine’s soul, they were scary enough that demons didn’t want to draw its attention by getting involved with Constantine. Which was. Yeah. Not great. Story of his life.

He’d known that they’d have to be nasty, sure. They’d have to be, to get all of Constantine’s contracts. Constantine hadn’t sold his soul to just anybody. Those first three bastards especially had power. Hell, they’d cured his terminal lung cancer. Partially to avoid a war but mostly to be petty.

Admittedly, after that, he hadn’t been quite so discerning. Or careful about the wording. But he knew that so long as old Lucy had his eyes on him and a finger on his soul, no one would dare collect.

A lot of good that did, in the end.

Who would Lucifer trade with? Why would he give up the right to torture Constantine eternally post-mortem?

Constantine was getting sick of not knowing. He was tempted to just go to that meeting spot, but without more information, that would be unforgivably stupid. Constantine was not stupid. Usually.

His Justice League communicator (foisted on him by the Bat) pinged obnoxiously at the bottom of one of his pockets. He’d forgotten it was in this coat. He sorted through his pockets crossly as it pinged again. It had better be important. He found it under a crumpled bag of crisps and yanked it out with a spray of crumbs.

“What?” he said, shortly.

“Constantine,” came Batman’s deep, gravelly rumble. “I have news.”

Well, crap. “You gonna share that news this century?”

“It would be better to discuss this in-person. You do not have a secure computer.”

“Jesus,” said Constantine. He would have argued, but, technically, Batman was doing him a favor. “Fine, you paranoid maniac. Where?”

‘Where’ turned out to be a low-risk interrogation room in the Hall of Justice. Constantine was not a fan of this arrangement, but he understood it. He was compromised, or whatever, and the interrogation rooms were private and had video screens.

On the other hand, it was in America, and even Zeta Tubes couldn’t help with jetlag. And, worse, it was nonsmoking.

Batman personally escorted him to the room, and turned on the main screen with a remote control. Pictures of a pale-skinned teen with blue eyes and black hair sprung up. School pictures, mostly, but some looked like ID pictures, one was on the cover of a magazine, and another looked like an avatar in a video game.

“Do you recognize this boy?”

“One of your kids?” asked Constantine.

“Answer the question.”

“No, I don’t know him. Should I?”

“He’s the one who dropped the letter off.”

“You’re joking.”

In answer, Batman clicked the remote again, bringing up surveillance videos of the Hall of Justice’s main desk taken from various angles. The clips started off looking normal, the overly clear, expensive footage characteristic of an organization associated with Batman.

But then, static swam over them. Not enough to fully obscure the figure walking into the frame, but enough to be obvious. The boy from the pictures. He walked to the desk, had a short conversation with the receptionist during which he handed over the letter, and then left, taking the static with him.

“Well, hell,” said Constantine. It had been a while since he’d seen a demon take a form like that, but he supposed this one must have learned that he had a soft spot for kids. Or maybe this was a kid. A demon kid. He’d thought he’d taken care of all of his, but wouldn’t have been the first time he’d screwed up, and this whole situation was a collection of screw ups.

“Do you know what could cause the static?”

“Whole range of spells, but I’m gonna bet you already knew that from Zatanna.”

“Hm,” said Batman. “The name of the boy is Daniel Fenton. He is fifteen years old, and his major claim to fame is discovering that a purple-backed gorilla on loan to his local zoo was female. He also makes an occasional appearance on the leaderboards of the video game ‘Doomed,’ where he is a well known player.”

“A demon playing video games. Now I’ve seen it all.” It wasn’t so much that demons couldn’t have hobbies, he just didn’t care to learn them, if they weren’t relevant to beating the crap out of them or tricking them into taking a holy water shower. Then again, there was an outside possibility that ‘Daniel’ wasn’t a demon. “Any of this have a point?”

“Establishing facts,” said Batman. “It is possible that you had encountered him via the internet.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who plays video games?”

Batman clicked the remote again, a map appearing on the screen, a blinking dot appearing in the middle of nowhere, US. “Daniel lives with his older sister, Jasmine, and their parents Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton in Amity Park.”

“Amity Park?” repeated Constantine.

“Is it familiar to you?”

“I think I looked into it once. Supposed to be haunted. Veil there is maybe a little thin, but nothing on the Tower of London, or, hell, the British Museum. You wouldn’t believe what all those stolen grave goods can get up to together. Your permanently overcast city is more haunted. It’s a dead end.”

“Maybe not. The Drs. Fenton are friends with the billionaire Vladimir Masters, but primarily derive their income from their patented inventions, which include customized ‘branding’ toasters, high-efficiency toilet paper, ultra-lightweight camping gear, various treatments for radiation poisoning, and several items that have been marked classified by the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Energy, for their use of dangerous energy sources.”

Constantine’s eyebrows went up. Mad scientists mucking about with radiation were generally not in his wheelhouse. Or even riding the same tracks, for that matter. “You think they went poking around in the occult for their ‘dangerous energy sources?’”

“Possibly,” said Batman. “In addition to their inventions, they are moderately well-known in ghost hunting communities, which explains their presence in the reportedly-haunted Amity Park. However, everything they’ve written on the subject indicates that they believe ghosts have a strictly scientific explanation. They also,” continued Batman, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slightly deeper frown, “believe that ghosts are nonsentient and nonsapient.”

“So, they have no idea what they’re talking about. Just some big brains that got sucked in by the kind of fraudsters who started the seance craze. Great. I’m sure Deadman’d love to have word with them. If they could even see him.” He rubbed his chin. “But the must’ve run into something real if their kid’s doing all this. Or if what looks like their kid’s doing all this.”

“You don’t believe Daniel Fenton is the one in the video?”

“Lemme put it this way. Odds of a random kid pulling one over on the demons I sold my soul to are about the same as you developing a sense of humor. Best case scenario, he’s just possessed, or he’s some kind of freak like Klarion.”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement. “Approximately six months ago, Jack Fenton purchased an ‘authentic demon soul contract’ from Ebay.”

Constantine opened and closed his mouth several times. “You’re joking.”

“As you are aware, I have no sense of humor.”

“Jesus Christ. Ebay?”

“The seller was a man named Eric Chambers. Zatanna investigated him earlier this week. He is, apparently, an amateur demonologist who wanted to ‘get out of the game’ and was in the process of selling off all his magical paraphernalia. He had sold several additional versions of your soul contract to another buyer in Amity Park. A known associate of Daniel Fenton named Samantha Manson. Are any of these names familiar to you?”

“Not exactly,” said Constantine. “But… Ebay?” He’d never thought his soul was anything special, but at least he’d thought it was worth enough to not be resold on Ebay. “And how did this Chambers bloke get them?”

“Apparently, the demons he’d summoned no longer wanted them, and he was under the impression that he could ‘put you under his thrall’ if he collected enough of them.”

So the guy who had his soul wasn’t even the first one to have the idea. Brilliant.

“And that’s it?”

“I could tell you Daniel Fenton’s grades and internet habits,” said Batman. “As well as those of his close friends and associates. Apart from his parents and his recent involvement with you, he is ordinary.”

“The thing with the gorilla is ordinary, then?”

“Most people have at least one outlier event in their lives. It would be of greater concern if he did not.” He paused, staring long and hard at Constantine. “What are your initial thoughts?”

“That I’m about to get screwed up the–”

“Regarding how Daniel Fenton got involved in this.”

“Like I said, it’s probably not Daniel Fenton. I’d guess… If I had to guess, I’d say that after Fenton’s dad got hold of that contract, he went and played around with it. Something like a genuine contract can be used to do a lot. It has the magical signatures of both the original demon and whatever sorry bastard signed it. If you’ve got that, you can ring up the demon.” He raised his hands, miming a scale. “Demon, inexperienced idiot teenager…” He tilted to one side. “You get the picture.”

And, yeah, wasn’t it great that he could cause people to die just by leaving his junk everywhere? He hadn’t learned anything from the dream sand.

“You believe Daniel Fenton summoned a demon that possessed him, which then proceeded to collect your soul contracts?”

“Yeah. Can you pull up a pic of the contract Jack Fenton bought?”

Batman briefly examined the remote, then flicked quickly through several slides, stopping, finally, on a very classic demonic soul contract. Constantine had signed several like that, so he had to squint at it and read through it line by line. It wasn’t like he memorized the handwriting of every demon he’d ever made a contract with. In fact, he’d memorized the handwriting of exactly zero demons. They didn’t precisely write a lot, and you either got illegible chicken scratch or equally illegible ornate gothic script.

He got to the name and swore. “That guy doesn’t have the power to go up against the First of the Fallen.” He rubbed his chin vigorously.

“It’s possible that Chambers sent a different contract to the Fentons,” said Batman, “or Daniel was… infected after receiving the other contracts.” More pictures popped up on the screens. “However, there is a problem with this theory.”

“Yeah?” asked Constantine, already scanning the contracts. The Bat didn’t like Constantine’s ideas. What else was new?

“Daniel’s behavior has had no significant changes in that six month time frame. But if we go back by just over a year, to when he was entering high school, his grades took a steep dive and several disciplinary actions were noted on his record. His close friends’ grades took similar, but smaller, hits at the same time.”

“You think he could have been possessed earlier.”

“I believe that something happened to him at that time. I am unconvinced it was possession.”

Constantine shook his head. “None of these guys are strong enough to begin with. Maybe if they were working together… Nah. None of them could work together. That’s why I picked them.” He rubbed his eyes. “Then again, I thought no one could get all my soul contracts, so who knows?”

“Are you sure possession is the only solution?”

“God, no. Hell, we could be dealing with a cabal of homo magi, or someone back from the grave who seriously hates me, that’d explain the death magic on the letter, at least, or maybe there’s a god hanging around getting their kicks poking at me. It’s just a giant blank. I’ve never heard of this kid. I’ve never heard of his family. I’ve barely heard of Vlad Masters. I’ve got nothing.”

“Hm,” said Batman. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m guessing ignoring it forever isn’t something you’d let me do?”

“No.”

“I guess I’m gonna have to go investigate, then.”

“In that case,” said Batman, pulling a fat folder of papers out of his cape somehow, “you will need to know more about Daniel Fenton, his associates, and Amity Park.” He dropped the folder on the table with an audible thump.

“Great,” said Constantine. “Just what I wanted. Homework.”

Constantine and Zatanna zeta’d to the nearest tube near Amity Park. Batman had arranged an ‘untraceable’ rental car for them, paranoid bastard. Demons didn’t usually have the skillset required to trace license plates.

Then again, there might be more than demons involved. Even if necromancers generally had no skillset outside of necromancy.

There could be shamans, though! They were well known for their technological acumen!

Yeah, right. It was possible, but not bloody likely.

“I could teleport, you know,” he told Zatanna. “We could both teleport.”

“Into the home turf of an unknown magic user?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the car window. “I’m surprised the ol’ Bat isn’t coming with us.”

“You know he is,” said Zatanna. “I’d give even odds that he’s already there, if I had any desire to gamble with you.”

“Hey! I could be good for it. I have steady work now!”

Zatanna shook her head. Constantine huffed.

“I’m going to take a nap. Might be my last one, after all.”

“John,” said Zatanna, “you’re not going to die. Don’t you think this is a little… excessive, considering all the stuff you’ve gotten out of before?”

“No one’s owned my whole soul before. Now, I really am going to go to sleep. Wake me up when we get there.”

Death.

That’s what pulled Constantine out of his dreams and into a nightmare, and from there into wakefulness. The feeling did not dissipate. Instead, it grew stronger.

He looked over at Zatanna, who was still driving. Her knuckles were white, her shoulders stiff.

“What the hell,” croaked Constantine.

“It’s been building as we get closer to Amity Park,” said Zatanna. “It doesn’t feel… actively malicious… More like a massive haunting. It’s been building slowly.”

Constantine swallowed and tried to rub sand out of his eyes. “That’s– Where are we?”

“About ten minutes out of Amity Park.”

“No. I’ve been to Amity Park. It doesn’t feel anything like this. It’s boring.”

“Well,” said Zatanna, strained, “something’s changed. At least we know where the letter picked up all that death magic.”

Constantine breathed in deeply through his nose. “Yeah, there’s enough of it here for me to feel it, God.” It was making his skin prickle. He shook himself all over. “Might as well stay awake now. Do you mind if I set my wards?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Constantine walked into the diner and looked around. It was very American. Retro. Quiet. Not entirely clean, but Constantine had been in way worse. The air smelled strongly of cinnamon, coffee, and hot chocolate. Not the kind of place he generally bartered for his soul, or away his soul, as the case might be.

An aggressive ‘No Smoking’ sign was positioned prominently next to the cheery ‘seat yourself’ sign. Constantine scowled at it. Sometimes it felt like there was nowhere to smoke anymore in the whole world.

Daniel Fenton, easily recognizable from a legion of school photos and a junior astronaut camp photo ID, was sitting alone at a booth, a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream in front of him. He swung his legs back and forth and scribbled in a notebook. A few tables away, not nearly as sneaky as they clear-ly thought they were being, were his friends Manson and Foley.

Zatanna had entered the diner before him, of course, and Batman was most likely… somewhere. God only knew where. Constantine knew people who could turn invisible and shapeshift that weren’t as good at it as Batman.

Before coming in, Constantine had finished setting his wards. His pockets were full of all sorts of tests, charms, and apotropaics. As he stuck his hands into them, a spray bottle fit easily into his hand.

Walking to the table felt like walking to his execution. He made the comparison with confidence, because he had the relevant experience. When he stopped next to the table, Fenton looked up. His expression was confused at first, but in less than a second he lit up, clearly delighted.

Constantine also had relevant experience in spritzing demons with holy water.

Fenton flinched, but he didn’t start howling or melting. More’s the pity.

“Did you just spray me with holy water?” asked Fenton, blinking up at him with a realistic expression of befuddlement.

“Guy’s gotta know what he’s dealing with,” said Constantine.

“Well, I’m not a demon.” A slight furrow worked its way between his eyes. “Or a devil.”

“What are you, then?” asked Constantine.

Fenton shrugged. “I don’t know. An amateur demonologist? I don’t have any training in this kind of stuff, which is probably why all this happened.” He reached to the side and grabbed his hot chocolate. “Oh. You got my whipped cream with your water…”

“You don’t have any training?”

“Not in this,” stressed Fenton. “I go to school and stuff.”

And astronaut camp, assuming this really was Daniel Fenton and not something possessing or impersonating him.

“Anyway, are you going to sit down, or…?” Fenton looked him up and down.

Constantine scowled and slid into the booth. Then he threw some salt (purified) at Fenton.

“Hey,” complained Fenton, “you’re going to ruin my hot chocolate, jeez.” He picked up the mug, pulling it towards himself.

Constantine took the opportunity to grab his notebook off the table and flip through it.

“Maths?” blurted Constantine.

Fenton set the mug back on the table and leaned over to snatch the notebook back. “Like I said, I do have school. That’s why I can only hang out here on Saturdays. You did miss the last few meeting times.” He huffed. “I know this isn’t ideal, but can we work together here? I don’t actually want to own your soul.”

“Oh, yeah, amazing way of showing it, mate. I know who and what I sold my soul to, and I don’t believe you bartered with them without any training.” Or that he was human, but as long as he was invested in the facade, he probably wouldn’t eat Constantine’s face off.

“I didn’t say I didn’t have any training. Just no training in this. I don’t know exactly what you can do beyond make bad demon-related decisions, but you had weeks to do research. You’ve got to know about the ghosts.”

“Might. What about them?”

“My parents research them. Fight them, sometimes. It’s a whole thing. Demons weren’t any harder to deal with.”

“I sold my soul to archdemons.”

“Yeah, they kind of sucked, to be honest.” Fenton bit his lower lip. “Look, I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me, but what I did to get your contracts wasn’t anything anyone couldn’t do. Most of them didn’t even want them anymore. The first batch I bought off of a random dude on Ebay. One of them paid me to take the contract, because they hated the doll you wrote it on so much. A lot of the others just wanted me to give you problems, which I think I’ve succeeded at, actually.”

Constantine had forgotten about the doll, actually. “And the archdemons? I know for a fact they’ve been looking forward to torturing me forever, so I doubt they’d just hand the contracts over in exchange for ‘giving me problems.’”

“Oh, yeah. For those guys, I just robbed them. There were also a few people I just beat up.”

“Demons aren’t people, they’re demons.”

“Sure they’re people. They’re just evil people. But they used to be angels or something, right?”

“... No,” said Constantine.

“Okay, well.” Fenton shrugged again. “They still are thinking beings, right? So, they’re people.”

Constantine honestly didn’t know where to go from that.

"Fine," he said instead. "You aren't going to tell me how you got the contracts or what you are. Is it too much to hope you'll deign to tell me why you did this?"

"I'm a teenager, why do we do anything?" Fenton sipped at his hot chocolate. "Mostly, I thought it'd be funny."

"Excuse me?"

"I thought it would be funny. I mean, Dad bought the first one, because he thought it'd help with his ghost research, but it didn't, so he let me have it. I asked Johnny about it, and he told me about your contracts, so I–"

"Who's Johnny?" interrupted Constantine. "Some demon friend of yours?"

He did have a strategy, here, sort of. Most ultra powerful magical beings had a limit to how much annoyance or disrespect they'd tolerate, even when disguising themselves. Constantine had a knack for finding those limits.

Also, just possibly, the hapless teenager act was throwing him off. It was remarkably believable.

"No, he's dead, to begin with, not–"

"Oh, so, you took advice on dealing with demons from someone who turned up dead right after telling you about me. That sounds brilliant."

"He's a ghost. He's been dead since at least the nineties, and I doubt you had anything to do with it. Johnny died in the eighties. I think.”

“A ghost told you about me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what wizards or magicians like you can do or sense, but if you looked up anything about Amity Park at all, you should have seen there are a lot of ghosts here. It’s not just tourist trap stuff. That’s… actually one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about, if I managed to get enough of your contracts to get you to come.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not all ghosts are nice. I meant it when I said your demons sucked. That’s compared to the ghosts. And sometimes to the people who come to hunt the ghosts.” Fenton drummed his fingers on the table, nervous. “It’s a toss up which group causes more damage. The Guys in White are especially awful. It would be nice if the Justice League took a look into them?” His voice took on a hopeful lilt.

“You bought my soul to tip off the League about… Guys in White.”

“They’re with the government. Presumably. No one knows what they’re really called. And they chase people around screaming about lots and lots of painful experiments. Direct quotes.”

“You know the League has a tip line.”

“Tried it.” Fenton took a huge gulp of hot chocolate.

“I don’t believe you,”

“If you hang out here for very long, you and your friends will be able to see the ghosts for yourself.”

Constantine could already feel the ghosts. Or at least the pervasive, overwhelming sense of death permeating this city. He didn’t doubt that something requiring Justice League Dark attention was going on here. Beyond just whatever was going on with Fenton himself.

But his attention was taken by two other points.

One, what he didn’t believe was that Fenton did all this for only some combination of kicks and giggles and wanting Justice League attention. Contacts with ghosts or not, burglarizing archdemons wasn’t something anyone sane blew off as nothing.

Two, Fenton had said friends. He’d understand if he’d made Zatanna, but the plural implied that he’d spotted Batman, too.

He didn’t let himself react. “No one rips off archdemons to call in a tip. Or just for fun.”

Fenton looked guilty, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “I didn’t want to bring it up, it didn’t seem appropriate anymore. And the other thing isn’t… relevant.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s relevant?” asked Constantine, despite how all his senses were screaming wrong wrong wrong at him. “This is my soul we’re talking about, after all.”

“I know, I know,” said Fenton. “But you didn’t exactly…” He trailed off. “The other thing was that some of my friends thought you need an intervention. We also wanted to see your face when we… intervened. Yeah, we thought it’d look kind of like that.” Fenton pointed at him.

Constantine slapped away the hand. He was almost convinced Fenton was… Well. Not normal, but maybe not homicidal, or particularly interested in enslaving Constantine or torturing him for all time. A step up from some of the other things he’d sold his soul to in the past. Possibly.

(The whole ‘teenager’ thing was definitely an entry in the negative column, though. As well as the whole humiliation and mockery angle.)

“What else?” he demanded.

Fenton’s face twisted with embarrassment and jealousy. “You get to go up to the Watchtower, don’t you?” he asked. “You get to go to space.”

“So?”

“So, I want to go to space. I was, um. I was going to… ask you to take me up there. Just to look.”

Infiltrating the Watchtower was a much more obvious motive, but… Constantine remembered the space camp ID.

“I mean, I’m never going to get up there with my grades. Fighting demons for it seemed… feasible.” He shrugged, then started to slump. “I was going to give them back, you know. Your contracts. I didn’t want to keep them. Or your soul.” He pushed himself up. “Anyway. None of that matters, now. We've got a problem to solve.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, as I explained in my letter, the contracts sort of… exploded."

"No, back up, what do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"Well, if this doesn't make you stop selling your soul, I don’t know what will, the Justice League knows about Amity now, I'm not going to make you take me to the Watchtower when I can't trade your soul back to you, and the funny boat sailed at about the same time my friend told me this might be permanent."

"Is this friend also dead?" drawled Constantine.

"No, he's more in the never alive category."

Which possibly explained some of the spirit magic Zatanna detected on the letter.

"He thinks it's because some of your contracts said after death instead of when you're dead, so, because there weren't any competing claims, they all came due at once. Since there were so many of them…"

"Repetition makes magic stronger, yeah, yeah," said Constantine. "I read the letter."

"I was hoping you'd have some solutions. No offense, but I don't want to own you. You're, like, an entire person."

Constantine wouldn't have been offended if Fenton hadn't prefixed his statement with no offense.

“You should have thought about that before buying up my soul.”

“I was going to give it back. No strings.”

“Except for a trip to the Watchtower.”

“If you really didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have made you,” said Fenton.

Somehow, Constantine believed him. Which was crazy. He’d have to check in with Zatanna to make sure he wasn’t being enchanted somehow. Charm person should not be a real thing magicians could do, and yet…

“Look, do you want me to swear it on the Styx or is there something else I can do to convince you I’m telling the truth?” asked Fenton. “The ghosts seem to like the Styx, anyway.” He sighed. “Tell me you have something that can fix this. I don’t know what kind of side effects there are for owning a person’s soul. It’s not like this happens all the time.”

Hell if Constantine knew. The only way he knew to get out of contracts like this was loopholes exploited before they were collected on. “I’m… going to have to do some research.”

“Well,” said Fenton, “let me give you my phone number.” He slid a piece of paper across the table. “You can call me if you figure anything out. In the meantime, if you’re staying in town long, you should look into the ghost thing. Talk to my parents, even. Maybe don’t mention all this, though.”

“Why not?”

“I love my parents, but they must have skipped out on the day they teach scientists that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. Anyway, I’ve got to go.” He started to shove things into a purple backpack he’d pulled into his lap from under the table.

“What? Why?” As far as Constantine was concerned, they’d only just started to scratch the surface of the problem.

“Me and my friends have tickets to a movie.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Manson and Foley, who, apparently, were not trying to blend in or be subtle. “You did miss the first few meeting times.”

“Your impression?” asked Zatanna, later, sliding into the booth after Fenton and his friends were thoroughly gone.

“He’s… surprisingly believable. Claims he ‘doesn’t have any training’ in magic, though, which sounds like crap, unless his parents are much more legit than what they look like on paper.”

Zatanna crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her elbow. “He wasn’t lying. Not that any of my spells could detect.”

Constantine huffed. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“He doesn’t seem like he could take on archdemons, but with help from ghosts or spirits? We don’t know who’s backing him.”

“God,” said Constantine, “that’s not something I was thinking of.”

“Because you were fixated on the demon theory.”

“But if he’s being backed by someone powerful, why wouldn’t they buy up my contracts themself? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not saying that his… patron, for lack of a better word, put him up to it. Just that he might be getting extra support.”

A waitress came up to them, smiling cheerily. “Hello, there, sorry for the delay. Have you decided what you’re getting?”

“The hot chocolate looked good,” said Zatanna.

“Knock yourself out,” said Constantine, standing. “I’m going to see what Fenton’s parents are like.”

“John Constantine?” repeated Jack Fenton, inquisitively. “Ha! That’s the same name that was on that fake demon contract thing I got on Ebay! What a wild coincidence, huh?”

“You could have mentioned the portal to the astral plane in your basement,” hissed Constantine into the phone. A tiny voice in the back of his head warned him that he shouldn’t take that tone with someone who owned him, but he ignored it handily.

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” asked Fenton, genuinely curious.

Constantine wouldn’t have, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Also, what did you call it? I’ve never heard anyone call it that.”

Batman’s deep voice rumbled through the communicator. “What did you learn?”

“I learned this place is a nightmare and a half. There’s a portal to the astral plane in that kid’s basement, did you know?”

“I ran into a ghost while Constantine was talking to the Fentons,” said Zatanna, leaning sideways while keeping her eyes on the road. “It was much more powerful than any other ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“That is not good news considering what I have learned about the so-called Guys in White.”

“Have you found anything?” asked Fenton. Wherever he was, his reception was crap. His voice crackled with enough static that he might as well be calling from the early nineteen-twenties.

“No,” said Constantine. It had gotten him excused from the Justice Club meetings, which meant that the failure was almost worth the headache the idea of his soul being owned by a teenager caused him.

“I didn’t find anything either.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Uh,” said Fenton. “I’m really grateful you guys got the GIW out of Amity, you know that, right? And that you guys put someone on watch here for bigger threats?”

“Yeah,” said Constantine, slowly. “Sure.” It had been mostly Batman managing that side of things, as Constantine was banned from decisions regarding Amity Park, but if Fenton was going to give Constantine credit, who was he to deny it?

“So, um. That was really great of you.”

Constantine was not liking where this was going. But, apparently, this was his life, now. Getting tips and awkwardly phrased requests from… God. The creepy necromancer brat was sort of his warlock patron.

… Curse his knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons. It was definitely a detriment to his profession as a real mage, and everything he learned about it was against his will and usually the Flash’s fault.

“What is it, Fenton?”

“Have you ever heard of the Showenhowers?”

#dc/dp #dcxdp #fic #my fic

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

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Jealous Reactions

Okay, so, I'm gonna try to pop out some requests that I've been far too busy to actually write, and I hope I get all of them!

If you sent me a request and after I post a bunch of these (Don't worry I'll make a seperate post when I believe I've gotten all of them) and you don't see yours PLEASE let me know and I will make sure I write it up for you, It's hard to keep track of things sometimes!

So, with that being said over the next few days I should be putting out quite a few of these!

ANYWAY- This was requested by @untitled53171

But, I'm also going to @mrsarthurmorgan7 because you've been wanting more Chubby Arthur and this is more chubby Arthur!

No worries I'll always write for chubby Arthur, he is after all my favorite chubby guy.

So, let's get on with the show!

(My photo below, feel free to use if you'd like! Just make sure I'm credited!)

WARNINGS: Fluff, Arthur being jealous and chubby, Maybe curse words, Chubby reader

Tags: @kieropal @cantchoosejust1 @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Arthur couldn't help but get angry as he watched you in the Saloon.

The two of you were here to celebrate a job done well, yet here he was being sour, watching with a frown on his face, as you interacted with patrons throughout the bar, and with some of the gang members who'd come with the two of you.

He felt a tinge of hot lightning strike through his body every time you pushed past someone and gently placed your hands on their chests to pass around them.

Each time you laughed at someone's joke and it wasn't his he seemed to see red.

The two of you weren't technically an item, no, but everyone in camp could see just how much he liked you, everyone, it seemed like you were the only one who couldn't.

Or, maybe you could and you liked to torture him.

Arthur quelled a growl that seemed to crawl up his throat and gripped the beer bottle that he'd sat down on his table.

If he wasn't careful he'd break it, he knew that, but he had to grab something, anything to try and focus his frustration to something else.

Was this....

He couldn't be, not him....

He wasn't....Jealous, was he?

Quietly he let out a breath and looked down at himself.

He felt like he'd let himself go over the past year or so, he'd gained weight, his stomach hung over his belt, he'd gotten a double chin that he couldn't bare to look at so he kept his beard just slightly long enough to cover it.

His arms were huge, he knew that, and he also knew a lot of it was muscle but at the same time he couldn't help but look at the fat that hung off of them.

His thighs and legs were massive, he'd had to go up two pants sizes and change his belt out for a bigger one.

No wonder you weren't paying attention to him.

He was nothing but a fat piece of shit, a murderer and an outlaw who wasn't attractive and wasn't fit.

Maybe if he'd lost a couple of pounds, you'd be more inclined to look his way.

He huffed and clenched the bottle again before bringing it to his lips and taking a sip.

Maybe he could drink the jealousy away, though if he got drunk nothing good would come of that.

He watched as you walked up to Bill who leaned against the bar, he couldn't help but watch your figure, the way your stomach pudged out further than the rest of you, it always looked so soft, so squeezable, he found his eyes wondering down towards your thighs, the way they curved outwards, and he always felt as though he wanted to pull you close with his hands rested against them.

Every part of you made you seem irresistible to him. You had a rounder face, with chubby little cheeks, and the extra weight you had wasn't gross like the extra weight he had.

On you it looked natural and right, it added an approachability to you that he loved so dearly, it made you so attractive to him, and he loved every inch of you, every inch.

There was no way that you'd be with him, he'll he was bigger than Bill, and you were talking to him, so why on earth would you talk to Arthur instead?

His jaw clenched and he looked at the table, looking at the scratches that had been carved into the wood.

Some initials left by previous patrons, some knife marks left by someone playing five finger fillet.

Still not enough to distract him, that's for sure.

He looked up, only to be taken aback as you stood right in front of him.

He nearly fell off his chair, his feet hitting the ground from where they'd been propped against the table.

"Jesus Y/N, why don't you announce yourself next time?"

"Well, maybe you should pay attention next time." You chuckle and take a seat across from him, watching his eyebrows furrow, and his eyes darken as he watches you sit.

"What the hell you want?"

"What's with the attitude Arthur, I'm here to celebrate with you! We did it! The score was a good one, we got a decent take from it, everyone else is drinking and dancing, so why aren't you? You're usually the life of the party when alcohol is involved." You place a hand against the table leaning towards him.

"I ain't got nothin' to celebrate." He mutters under his breath. "It was a job, it was done, we got the money. That's it."

"We always celebrate a job done well, we did it a few weeks ago, and you were nothing but smiles then, so what changed?"

He clenched his jaw and then took another swig from the bottle that had become nearly glued to his hand with how hard he was clenching it.

"Nothin' changed."

"Arthur, you can't lie to me, it's plain on your face just how angry you are."

"I ain't...angry." He huffs and looks down, swallowing quietly.

"Okay, then what's that look on your face for?" You grin and flick his nose, watching as he tracks your finger and flinches slightly at your flick.

"I..." He swallows for a moment and looks away. "I don't like how you're touchin' everyone."

"What?"

"Movin' past 'em, and...puttin'...your hands on their chests, I...I don't like it, and talkin' to Bill, laughin' at everyone's jokes....it....it ain't me." He manages to choke out what he's thinking.

You're stunned shocked for a moment and then you hear yourself start snorting, and before you know it you're unable to stop yourself from laughing.

Arthur looks at you with a stern look, yet his cheeks are turning crimson, and you try your best to stop laughing for his expense, but it takes a while for you to properly stop them.

You swallow, trying to push the chortles back down your throat, and look him in the eyes.

"Are you....Jealous, of these guys Arthur?"

He takes a deep breath and looks down before nodding quietly.

You're torn for a moment between laughing and comforting him, and in the end you decide on the latter, placing your hand gently against his shoulder.

He looks at you, and he's not near crying, but there's a look in his eyes that certainly breaks your heart.

"I jus'....I wish...I wish you'd look at me that way...I..." He looks around, hoping that no one was near enough to hear the next words that came out of his mouth. "I want...I want you to hold me that way, put your hands on me like that....I...I know, that's stupid...for me to feel-"

"Arthur, you have nothing to be jealous about."

You cut him off and then stand, moving your seat closer to him, facing it towards him.

Quietly you bring your hand over his and hold it there, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours.

"You have nothing to be jealous of, at all. You realize that I'm sweet on you, don't you?"

He looks up at you with a sharp jerk of his neck, his eyes widening as the words fall out of your mouth.

"I've been sweet on you for god knows how long." You sigh. "I just couldn't convince myself to tell you, I couldn't see you feeling the same, but...you being jealous...I mean...you must be sweet on me too, right?"

"I am...Have been, for a while, like you."

You nod and quietly look around before looking him in the eye.

"You have NOTHING to be jealous of, nothing, I was just pushing around them, talking, the only person I want to be close to is you, only you."

"I...Y/N, I don't know what to say...I suppose I was bein' foolish."

"Why don't you just talk to me about it next time cowboy?"

He nods quietly, and his face stays crimson, embarrassed at his behavior.

Gently you cup his face and pull him close, placing your lips against his gently, feeling a warmth spread through you as the two of you smile against each others lips.

That jealousy is quick to melt away.

#arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #chubby arthur #chubby reader #red ded redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 drabble #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 community

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 3 months

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Tess' Sharpuary - 15. Ashwinder

When a romantic stroll turns into a heated battle, you better make sure you're on the Potions master's side.

chapter specific tags: established relationship, an attempt to write action

relationships: aesop sharp x reader

15. Ashwinder (1k)

tw: descriptions of violence, blood, sexual content implied (lightly and briefly)

Time stood still as the two parties stared at each other, the silence of the forest deafening.

It was supposed to be a normal stroll through the forbidden forest. The day was warm, overly so, and many people lingered by bodies of water rather than leisurely perusing the streets of Hogsmeade or the various hamlets. Aesop and his sweetheart decided it was a perfect day to stretch their legs, and the Forbidden forest's cool shade looked more alluring than ever. Maybe they’d be able to gather some fresh ingredients while they were at it, an activity the professor not only found very useful, but also quite relaxing.

And so off they went, hand in hand, Aesop in his usual garb (with a cooling charm attached to all items, of course) and his young lover in a simple outfit of light blouse and skirt. It was far from the ordinary outfit she’d wear into the forest, or wherever it was she was currently exploring. However, seeing today the thing on their minds truly was a mere little romantic stroll through the age old woods, she deemed it unnecessary to change out of her leisure clothes.

Their softly spoken words reverbated off the trees, off their barks, their branches. Soft breeze made the woods sing a song as ancient as time itself, and its inhabitants too seemed to be enjoying the afternoon, birds chirping sweetly, little pitter patter of bunny rabbit paws scattering all around the couple. The woman was quick to point out each and every doe and deer that seemed unconcerned with their presence, as well as all the magical beasts peering at them curiously from where they were roaming around their nests.

Both knew something felt wrong, however, when the sounds of the forest around them got more and more quiet until complete silence replaced them

“What do we have here?” a mean, rough female voice cut through the air, “a couple of lovebirds!” An Ashwinder suddenly appeared from somewhere behind the shrubs, closely followed by two other bandits. The couple looked around themselves and noticed that they were surrounded by a group of at least ten dark wizards and witches. “What’s a pretty bird like yourself doing with an old geezer like him? How much do you pay her, old man, huh?” mocked one of the men, large, bulky, bald, and laughing at his own words. The woman who spoke first, their leader apparently, came closer: “Whatever it is, you’ll be handing it over to us. And we may actually let you leave here safe and sound…”

Aesop and his young lover looked at the people surrounding them, and then at each other. And they smiled. It was obvious these crooks weren’t what remained of Rookwood’s lot, majority of which fled after a very stubborn Ravenclaw rid the Highlands of him and his second in command once and for all, but rather someone new entirely. Because if these idiots were from the top hat-donning arsehole’s group of sorry lost existences, they would know one very important thing: The couple wasn’t stuck here with the Ashwinders, the Ashwinders were stuck here with them.

Without a single word, the lovers whipped out their wands and began sending spell after spell in the criminals’ directions.

The young woman grinned at the shocked faces of their ambushers. Some of them didn’t even have their wands drawn, the imbeciles! Of course, this only made them such incredibly easy targets. Her Glacio at the leader and the couple of tossers next to her was swiftly followed by the potions master’s Diffindo, cutting the frozen fiends painfully. They skillfully dodged the curses sent their way and shared their cast Protegos, and soon the criminals began scattering to get away from them.

Following Aesop’s Expulso, several of the fiends were blown up into the air in a fit of limbs and cacophony of pained yelps. “You have to teach me that spell!” his sweetheart shouted over the noise of battle with an obvious smile.

“Cowards! Get back here! You’re going to run away from an old man and some little girl?!” the leader cried, even as the crimson of blood from the professor’s Diffindo stained the front of her robes. “Oh, do shut up, you cow!” cried the young woman in answer, and the potions master marvelled at the ancient magic flowing through her as she raised her arm up, gathering all the magic around them into her very wand. With loud crackling and sizzling of bright blue, she brought it down on the leader, an explosion booming through the air upon impact.

And suddenly, there was no masked, cloaked dark witch. In her place stood a small, rather skinny dark-feathered chicken.

An unexpected chuckle rolled from Aesop’s mouth. They were long past on their own again, the rest of the bandits having run away to lick at their wounds, and hopefully reconsider their occupation. Well, everyone except Mrs Eggatha McClucking here. “I’d ask you to teach me this in turn, but I suppose that’s not possible, huh?” Aesop asked with a small grin, the impromptu battle leaving his cheeks slightly flushed, and his hair wild. His lover grinned and walked the short way back towards him. “What happens to her now?” he proceeded to ask, his hands unconsciously coming up to take hold of her waist. She tilted her head slightly: “I don’t know, actually… I never stuck around to find out. Either she’ll be lucky enough to make it to some chicken coop in one of the hamlets, or… Well, you know how it is. Mongrels have to eat too…”

His hands slowly moved her hips, making her smile further and lean into him. “That was rather exhilarating, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Hm… I say we go back home…” Aesop took a deep breath, his chest pressing further against that of his sweetheart, eyes growing darker. The young woman had to laugh. One minute they’re battling dark wizards, brilliantly so even though severely outnumbered, and the other, they are pressed against one another, their hunger clearly rising with each second. “Wouldn’t want to give the new chicken here a show,” Aesop said slyly, one of his hands sneaking down to squeeze at the girl’s bottom quickly, prompting her to bite at her lip, her own cheeks growing warmer under his ravenous gaze.

“Apparate us home, then…”

---

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed ☺

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #aesop sharp fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #illustration

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morganski-19 · 4 months

Text

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 6: The Inspection

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 5

tw: descriptions of a minor panic attack

February 1984

Julie watched in horror as her journal was ripped in half by Matthew Anderson. The person who has been torturing her all year, but never stooped to this level. She could deal with the name calling, the pulling on her ponytails and braids, the balls of paper that would be thrown at her in the halls. That was just him being an idiot and picking on the poor kid.

This, this hit differently.

Her journals were her life. Stories written down that were fabricated from her mind or truth she was never able to fully speak. Worlds crafted and characters created. Places she’s always wanted to visit or things she’s always wanted to do. These journals made her days less lonely. Made her life feel fuller.

And now there it lays on the ground ripped into pieces, while Mathew and his friends laugh at her tears. Solemnly, Julie picks up the pieces of her book and runs away, scared that staying there for even a second more would bring on more taunting.

She runs to the back of the school and hides below a staircase, crying over her lost words. Stories jumbles together, pages ripped apart. Everything she’s worked so hard on teared apart in minutes.

“Hey, are you ok?” a boy with a black bowl cut wearing a sweater asks her.

Julie just looks back at the mess in her hands, overwhelmed by it all over again. “They ripped it apart,” she whispers. “Just took it from me an destroyed it.”

“Bullies, they’re just a bunch of mouth breathers,” the boy sits next to her. “It doesn’t look too bad, you could probably tape it back together.”

“Maybe, doesn’t make it the same, though.”

Julie’s mom told her that this journal was sent by her dad. Part of her knew it was a lie, but the innocent part of her really wanted to believe that it was true. This journal was special, it was her yearly gift from her dad. She would write stories in it about happy families, hoping that this magical journal would make her dad show up. That way her mom could be happy again, she could be happy too.

“What was it?” the boy asks.

Julie lines up the pieces of paper into a small, organized stack. “Stories. I like to write sometimes.”

“That cool. My friend likes to draw stories. He says that the best thing about them is how you can create them with your own mind, that way no one can ever really take them from you.”

“I never thought about it that way.” She looks at the piles of stories again and imagines them differently. Instead of ruined castles and homes, she sees rebuilding after a long battle. She sees hope. “Thank you.”

The boy shrugs. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Julie.”

. . .

Present Day

Steve hangs up the phone with the owner of Family Video, smiling to himself and can’t help himself from doing a small fist pump. He got the job. Which isn’t a lot, considering he can’t see himself doing it for the rest of his life, but it’s one step closer to passing this inspection.

The inspection has been looming over his head for the past week. After the meeting with the social worker, Steve has been working double to make sure the house was presentable, even if it wasn’t supposed to happen quite yet. Going through each drawer, making sure everything is in its place. Making a small box of all of his upside down related items to find a nice hiding place outside of his house so that they won’t be found.

It was a lot, but it was worth it. There would finally be somebody else living in this house, someone who was family. Another person filling the mass of rooms that stayed empty for his entire life. And by someone who would stay.

Or at least, stay for longer than a week.

This whole placement thing was still weighing over his head. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to one day get permanent custody of Julie, but that wouldn’t be for the best. With all that she’s been through, she deserved someone more stable than him. But he could provide her with a safe place to live where she actually liked, so that was enough.

And maybe when the time came to find a permanent placement, he would be stable enough to get it. If that ever would be a possibility.

But that would involve a better job than retail, his own place and not his parents. No more nightmares and a better explanation for his many scars. A less marked medical history and probably one less NDA than he has signed.

As much as Steve hoped, it didn’t seem feasible. It didn’t seem in reach. The family he’s found would leave again, and he couldn’t stop it. But he wanted to.

Eddie and Robin let themselves in through the front door, promising to help Steve get the house actually ready for the inspection. Since it’s in shambles from his weeklong obsessive searching for every possible thing that could be wrong. There were papers everywhere and things out of place. It needed to be put back together. And Eddie offered to hide out the upside down stuff at his new house, so that was helpful.

“Jesus, dingus,” Robin looks disgusted as she scans the mess, “the hell did you do?”

Eddie does a soft whistle, making his own observations. “Blew up in the living room?”

Steve sighs. “I know it’s bad. Just help, please.”

“Why we’re here.” Robin starts making small piles, organizing the mess.

Eddie grabs a few of the larger items, and brings them to the kitchen, placing them all on the table to be distributed later. Room by room they go through and put everything back to where it was, making sure nothing is out of place. Eventually it ends with Steve and Eddie in his room, gathering up some discarded clothing to be taken to the laundry room.

Steve is mentally checking off a list in his head, adding new things one after another of what he has to do. Clean the kitchen, clean the bathrooms, make sure the guest room beds are made and presentable, make sure there are no visible dangers in the house, check the railings for lose poles. Things he doesn’t even need to do but can’t help but think are necessary.

If this doesn’t go perfectly than what else is he supposed to do. Julie will be stuck in a terrible household until her social worker caves and moves her to another town. He’ll lose the only biological family that’s ever cared about him. All of this will have been for nothing. Julie will be let down and devastated, he’ll be devastated. It’ll all go terribly, and she’ll never talk to him again.

He'll be left alone in this house again. For God knows how long. He can’t move, can’t leave it behind for some reason. It just sits vacant with only him in it. And soon enough the kids will all go away to college, leaving him behind too. Robin will save enough money to go eventually too. Eddie will finally do what he always says and get the hell out of town. Leaving Steve in an empty house with no one around that loves him anymore.

A broken, empty house that has a million things wrong with it. So many things that this will never happen. They’ll see right through to the scared kid he still is but tries to hide. They’ll see the ghost that lives in his backyard. The pain and fear inside of him will come pouring out in the worst way possible. He’ll be deemed as unfit and this will all be for nothing. It’s always for nothing.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Breathe. In, and out.”

Steve does what he said. Breathing deeply through his nose, not noticing how tight his chest had become. Breathing out through his mouth, hearing how shaky it is. He repeats it again and tries to stop the train on indefinite tracks in his mind, seemingly breaking off from itself and going in a million different ways. Each new branch clouding his thoughts and increasing the panic more.

“That’s good, now again.” Eddie breathes with him, making him hold his breath just slightly to help calm down his heartrate. He guides Steve to sit down on his bed, sitting next to him and taking his hand. Counting him through his breathes until the tightness alleviates, and he can breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes out, slouching a bit.

Eddie rubs his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand, squeezing it just slightly. Warmth radiating through the touch, making Steve want to lean in closer and absorb it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Steve takes another deep breath through his nose. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I’m doing all of this for nothing?”

“You’re not,” he says pointedly. “Even if this doesn’t work out, it shows that you tried. That you care about her. Trust me, that means so much more than you realize. For both her and for the social worker. The courts might think differently if you want to take this further, but for temporary, you’re good. Ok?”

He meets Eddie’s eyes, immediately feeling the pull in them. “Ok,” he says, feeling himself start to get lost.

It takes a lot for Steve to let himself go around people, to put down his guard. But here in this moment, he would give it every single time just to get Eddie to look at him like this again. Just pure care in his eyes, gazing over Steve’s face to make sure everything’s ok. Wanting nothing more to this moment then to make sure he’s ok.

“What if everyone leaves me?” Steve whispers his fears so silently he hopes Eddie doesn’t hear. “Robin and the kids will head off to school. Julie will eventually too. And you’re never going to stay in this town. I’ll be all alone again.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s again and he lets out all the breath in his lungs. Just taken away by the simple beauty of Eddie’s face. He reaches up gently slides his hand across Steve’s neck, just barely cupping his chin. Steve leans into the touch, letting the warmth of Eddie’s hand ground him.

“I’m not leaving, not without you. Neither is Robin, and the kids will always come back. All of them will.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s wrist and holds his hand in place, letting himself sit in this moment. How he ever let himself say no to having this sooner, he doesn’t know. Because in this moment, there’s nothing more he wants then to lean in and capture Eddie’s lips with his. Take back everything he’s said and just dive in headfirst.

When Eddie’s eyes flick down to his lips just slightly, it makes it a million times harder for Steve to want to pull away. But he has to. This is the wrong time, there are things to do, he almost just went into a panic attack. Everything wants to stop him, but he can’t seem to listen to it. Slowly, he starts to lean in.

“Yo, dingus one and dingus 2, I can’t clean a house by myself,” Robin yells from behind the door, breaking the moment.

Steve pulls back, clearing his throat. “We’re coming, calm down.”

Before he can pull his hand away from Eddie’s, a small kiss is placed to the back of it. Warmth enveloping his hand before the coldness washes it all away when they let go. Soon, Steve promises. Soon he’ll be ready for this.

. . .

Julie is waiting in line at lunch when Dustin walks up to her. She rolls her eyes, ready to walk away before he can get in another line of questioning.

“Hi,” he states cheerily, with a stupid smile.

“Hi,” she responds crossly, hoping that it will show him that she’s not in the mood.

Dustin seems unaffected, continuing to follow her through the lunch line. “So, about a few days ago-.”

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off. “You were just curious about your friend. It’s fine.” Julie picks the last of her food and heads over to her usual table.

“I wanted to apologize,” Dustin follows. “I acted like a jerk, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

She sets her tray down on the table and looks at him. A sheepish expression paints his face, and an awkward stance almost as if he wants her to ask him to sit.

“I forgive you,” she says, taking a seat.

“Good,” he says, still standing there.

After their last meeting, he can’t think that she would have invited him to sit with her almost immediately after the apology. It took him a few days just to give it to her anyway, it’s not like she’s that hard to find. But then he was close to Steve, so she should at least try to get to know him. If everything is going to work out the way that they hope, Julie will be seeing a lot of him, and the other kids that he looks after.

“Is there anything else?”

“It’s just,” Dustin sits, without an invitation. “I can’t wrap my head around the idea of Steve having a sister.”

Julie stabs at her food. “Well, it’s true. Living proof right here.”

“No, yeah. I get that. I’ve just always known Steve to be an only child, like me. And now he’s not.”

“If it makes you feel better, he still kind of is. Our dad would rather pretend like I don’t exist.”

“So, you share a dad then?”

Julie stares across the table, “Really? You just apologized for the uncomfortable questions.”

Dustin squints his eyes again, before smiling. “I like you. Let’s start over. Dustin Henderson,” he extends his hand across the table. “Pseudo brother of Steve Harrington.”

“Julie Lawson,” she takes his hand warily and shakes it. “Half-sister of Steve Harrington.”

“That is still so weird,” he says, starting to eat his food.

. . .

“Harrington residence,” Steve mutters through the phone, filing through the mail as he does.

“Can you explain to me why your mother got a phone call last week about a job application of yours?” Richard Harrington speaks through the phone.

Steve’s body straightens on instinct with the voice, trained to present himself the best as possible. His mind races back to the resume he gave Keith, a revised one that he had applied with originally. But he forgot to take his mom off of the reference list when he added Hopper and Joyce. Her name was still there front and center.

“I had applied to be a manager at the video store I’m working at now. One is leaving and I thought I could take their spot.”

His father sighs through the phone. “Wishful thinking, Steven. You won’t just get jobs because you think you can take them. You must work hard for them.”

Steve’s mouth dries. “Well, I got the job. So, I must have worked hard enough for it.”

“Like you would know the meaning of hard work,” Richard chastises without missing a beat. “You didn’t even have to have a college degree to get this job. Those careers are never real hard work.”

Thoughts race in his mind but never reach the front for him to actually say them. His father doesn’t know how hard Steve’s works. Doesn’t know how much pain he’s been through. The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind that there are other things important in life other than work. Other than money.

But his dad will never understand. Never understand how much he’s truly failed in life. How much he’s failed Steve. So, Steve’s stays silent, like he always does.

“I thought you wanted me to understand the meaning behind hard work. That is what I am doing?”

“But for how long, Steven. How long are you going to go around and play the charade as if you are not a Harrington. You have a responsibility to me. To the family. Some day you are going to have to wake up and start your life, and we are not going to wait around forever for you to decide when that day is coming.”

Like you were ever here in the first place, Steve wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

“Every time I think you have started to grow up you prove me wrong. You are still a child, Steven, and an immature one at that. Stop pretending that what you do doesn’t mean anything. Apply to schools again and get in this time. Get a real job, one that looks good on the family. We have a legacy that needs protecting, and you’re ruining it.”

Richard hangs up the phone before Steve can get a single word in.

He stands there for a few minutes, the buzzing from the phone line filling his ear. Stuck in the hopeless, fearful stance that happens after every phone call, every conversation. Every thought of his father that he has ever had.

Eventually, he hangs up the line. Eventually, he places his forehead against the wall and closes his eyes, letting them fill with tears. Letting them roll down his cheeks.

It took years for Steve to understand what he was meant to do and what he wanted to do. And even longer to understand that his father will never love him unless he did what he was meant to do. But every time he tried, he failed. Every time he did what he was told, what was planned, it never worked. It was never enough.

When the schools rejected him, he got a part time job. When Nancy and him ended, he went on the scheduled dates. When the world fucking ended and they weren’t here to witness it, he recovered in seclusion so nobody else would know. For his father. Always for his father and his fucking reputation. But it was never enough.

“You were never here,” Steve whispers to the wall. “You are never here.”

He stands straight again, taking a step back. Staring straight at the phone that his father spoke through however long ago.

“You don’t even know me.”

How can a parent know a child they didn’t even raise? How is a child supposed to live knowing their parents don’t love them? Questions with answers Steve’s been forced to answer. Questions that should have never even be asked.

Steve turns around to face the only family picture in the entire house. A professional taken when Steve was a child. His young face, innocent to what is to come, sits on his mother’s lap. All while his father looms in the background, standing behind them both, a hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“You know nothing about me,” Steve yells. “You have never stayed long enough to try. Not even once.”

Tears are streaming down his face, clouding his vision. His breath picks up, stuttering with sobs.

“I’m not ruining anything. You are the one ruining it. I have seen more than you can possibly imagine, and you call me immature. At least I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. At least I wouldn’t have another fucking kid and hide it from the world. Because I own up to my mistakes, I change. Despite you.”

Despite. Steve has become the person he is without his father’s influence. His proudest accomplishment. He has become the exact opposite of the man who he was supposed to be a clone of.

“Despite you,” he continues. “I found people who care about me. I’ve fought monsters, I’ve saved lives. Can you say the same? I’ve learned from my mistakes, I’ve changed. I’ve grown into a person that I actually like instead of hate. Because I hated myself when I was trying to act like you. And if you were actually here to see it, you would hate who’ve I’ve become. Because despite of you, I’ve become a better person that you could have ever hoped for me to be.”

Something heals itself inside of Steve. Something retreats. The little boy who he once was smiles at him, knowing that what he says is true.

Richard Harrington may have never stayed long enough to know his son. But that meant that his son never got to know anything about his father other than fear and disappointment. And through that disappointment, he grew. And there’s no turning back.

. . .

When Julie walks through the front door of Steve’s house, the lights are dark. It shouldn’t be surprising, she’s been there when he’s at work, but there’s mail on the hallway floor. She picks it up, stacking it gently on the hall table and continues through.

“Steve,” she calls out, walking into the living room. He’s sitting there in the dark, his elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. “Shit, sorry. Do you have a migraine, I can leave.”

“No,” he says, lowering his hands, sitting up. “You’re fine.”

Something’s off. Steve’s hair is disheveled and there is slight redness around his eyes. A part of her wants to leave, let him be alone. He clearly was having some sort of moment. But when she thinks of this empty house, how empty it feels, she can’t leave him to it alone.

“Are you ok?” she asks quietly.

Steve scoffs, looking the other direction and shaking his head. “I’ve been better.”

She racks her brain of ways that her mom used to comfort her. The many things that failed, and how even when she tried her hardest, the sadness was still there. Talking about it always helped, though. Just to get the pain out of your system and have another person listen to it. For someone else to know your pain, for someone else to listen that it’s there.

It was never a lot, but it was something.

Julie walks over to the couch and sits on the cushion next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve takes a moment before he finally says, “I know you probably got a lot of shit for not knowing your dad, and I know you probably wished you did on some level. But God am I jealous of you for never meeting him.”

“Is he really that bad?”

Steve leans back on the couch and crosses his arms, looking at the ceiling. “Yeah. But it’s more of the fact that I’ve never seen him long enough to know if he was any good.”

There was another thing that sometimes helped when she was feeling down. Similarities. People who could relate to her situation. Show that she wasn’t alone in the way she felt.

And while she couldn’t say that she knows exactly how Steve feels, but she can relate in her own way.

“When I was little,” she starts, “like really young, I would always ask when my dad would come home. When he would finally meet me. For a while, my mom would lie and tell me that my dad was in the army oversees, and that’s why he wasn’t around. And on Christmas, there would always be a gift that was from him. That was the most special present every year, because I could bring it in and prove to the other kids, to prove to myself, that I had a dad that loved me.”

She pauses, thinking back to the gifts that little her would line on her dresser. One for each year, each more special than the last. She would sit and stare at them, praying for a day where her dad would give them to her himself. Once she got older, the spell was broken. The lies were unraveled, and her world was shattered.

“Of course, I didn’t know they were really from my mom at the time. When I found out, I took everything that I thought was from him and put it in a box and went straight out to the dumpster. I wanted to throw them out, cry over the child that believed so hard for something that was never there. But I didn’t. After the lies faded, they were still gifts from one of my parents, it just happened to be my mom.”

The box still sat in her room for years later. Gifts that she couldn’t bear to give away, because it just proved how much her mom loved her. She pretended every year that Julie’s father was still around, just to give her daughter a sense of normalcy. Julie never appreciated it at the time, not until it was too late.

“I guess I’m trying to say that there’s sometimes a little good that comes from the bad. My dad was never around, and after a while, I didn’t want him to be. But my mom was. And those presents made me appreciate her more that she was.”

When she looks over at Steve, he’s looking back at her with a thoughtful look on his face. “She sounded great.”

She looks away from Steve for fear of crying. “She was.”

“I’m sorry you lost her, I don’t think I ever said that.”

Julie has become so used to people saying sorry that the words don’t even affect her that much anymore. Not like they did a month ago. Everyone is sorry, but there’s nothing anyone can to do fix it.

“What’s your good?” she looks back at him.

Steve sighs, taking a moment to think. “Younger me would always wonder why he was never around, why he was never the one who raised me. But looking back, I’m sort of glad he didn’t. That way I turned out to be a better person than he was. He couldn’t raise me to be just like him. Even if he still tries.”

“Is that why all the lights are off, because he’s trying to?”

“Yeah, got a phone call from him today. Told me I was a disappointment because I got the manager job at Family Video.”

Julie sits up. “Oh my god. You got it. That’s great.”

“Not for him and his stupid legacy,” Steve grumbles, repeating what she can assume are his father’s own words.

“Forget him,” She insists. “This isn’t about him, it’s about you. You wanted the job, right?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. I did.”

“Then be proud of it. You got what you wanted. Not because of him, because of you. You did that. Own it.”

He smiles. “I guess I did do that.”

“Not guess, did.”

“Whatever,” he laughs, the mood in the room shifting. “Thank you.”

She shrugs, “What are no longer estranged siblings for?”

He snorts. “Cheering each other up about their same shitty dad, apparently.”

“Yeah, apparently.”

. . .

“Well, I think I’ve seen all of the house that I need to,” Sarah concludes, crossing something off on the clipboard she’s carrying. “There is just one more interview that we need to do.”

A slight weight lifts off Steve’s chest, just a slight one. The house inspection has been one of the most nerve-racking things in his life. Someone going through every room in his house and asking questions about the most random things. Looking at his life in one of the most personal ways possible.

“Ok,” Steve responds. “We can head to the kitchen if you’d like.”

Sarah nods and follows him to the kitchen, getting herself ready at the table.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Steve offers. She politely declines.

He sits across from her as she pulls out a file. Glancing quickly at the name and seeing his own across the tab. Papers filled with information about him. He doesn’t know how much she can get before he turned eighteen, but there was plenty past then that he hopes she has no access to.

The NDAs he’s had to sign especially. He might be legally required not to talk about them, but the fact that he has them at all could be concerning. But those records would be sealed, right?

“So, Steve, you live in this house alone?”

“For the most part. My parents also live here but haven’t been back in at least a year and a half.”

He remembers that because they showed up for his graduation. Most kids went out to dinner to celebrate the day. Steve had to sit through a lecture on how he was going to fix the fact that he didn’t get into any colleges.

She nods and glances over the papers in front of her again. Each second without a question making his pulse speed up.

“That’s a long time to be away from the house. Do you take care of all the needs while they are away?”

Steve nods. “Yes. I have been given the rights to upkeep the house. So, paying all of the bills on time, making necessary purchases, making sure everything is up to date and replacing anything that isn’t.”

“And how long have you been doing that?”

He has the strong urge to lie but thinks that could be dangerous. But what is worse, saying that he’s only been doing it for two years, or since he was sixteen.

“I started to take over some of these responsibilities when I was sixteen. But that was mostly the financial stuff. Other normal chores I’ve been doing for longer.”

Sarah makes an almost startled look before writing something down in her notes, flipping to the next page before continuing her questions. Asking how long his parents would normally be away. If there was any change they would come home in the near future. How frequent these trips were and when did they start.

“What I am getting here is you know the financials and other necessities of keeping a good house very well, Steve,” she says with a hint of concern. “Even before you became a legal adult.”

If she only knows the things he’s done, the things he’s seen before becoming a legal adult. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, let’s move on to the rest of the basic questions.”

She asks him if there are any weapons in the house. Basic safety questions to ensure that the house is fit. Then moves on to asking about him. When he graduated high school, where he works. What he likes to do in his free time. What his strengths and weaknesses are. General interview questions to get a better assessment of his personal life.

“You’re doing fine, Steve. You can calm down,” she jokes, marking one last thing before moving on to the last question.

He laughs. “Was it that obvious?”

She nods. “It always is. I just have a few more questions for you and I will leave you be.”

“Alright,” he rubs his palms gently against his jeans.

“Why do you think you would be the right placement for Julie?” She asks it with a smile, trying to make him feel safe but her words only making him panic.

He takes a moment to settle himself, try to think of what to say without it being jumbled. All the reasons seem obvious but not enough. To get her out of a house she hates. To give her a home where she feels safe. Be able to help get her through the rest of her schooling and help her go to the college she wants. Support her through the rest of her life, even if it isn’t permanent.

To finally be able to have the family he’s always wanted.

“I want her to be able to have a home that she feels safe coming home to. For her to have somewhere that feels like a home, that feels like a family. When we first met, I didn’t know what was going to come of it. But I knew I wanted to help her.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to put it.

“My father is a difficult man. He’s done a lot of things in his life that I don’t approve of, or would repeat. And I couldn’t help but think that I had to help her. She was a victim of his mistakes, something I knew how to manage. So, I got to know her. I reached out and waited for her to make the decision if she wanted to get to know me. And she did.”

Steve thinks back to the first few moments of meeting her. The sorrow for him in her eyes that came with the information she’d given him. Not even realizing that she’d given him the one thing he’s begged for since he was little. A sibling. He’d be stupid not to try to get to know her.

“I know I’m not what you normally see when it comes to potential guardians. And I know that there are people that are going to tell you that this is a bad idea. You might even think it yourself, without them telling you. But I care about Julie, and I want to make sure she’s in a house that can provide for her. That loves her. And if I’m not the best fit for it, if there’s someone better, I’m not going to stop it. But she seems to really like it here, she comes over almost every day. And it might just be because she doesn’t like that other house, but I can’t help but think that she likes it here. That she feels comfortable with me.”

Sarah places down her pen and looks at him, fully paying attention to what he is saying. It only makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing.

“All I want is to make sure she’s taken care of. That she’s getting what she needs to survive through this change. I want to be there for her while she grieves her mom. Even though she tries to hide how bad it is. I want to make sure that she can go to the college she wants to. I want to make sure that she’s happy. And even if you tell me this isn’t possibly, that I’m not the right fit for her. I’m still going to be there for her, because I want to be her family. Whatever that means for us.”

All Sarah does is smile and close the file in front of her. “I think that answered the rest of the questions I had for you. You did very well.”

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief. “When will I figure out your decision.”

“Well, I have one last interview to do with Julie, but soon. We’re moving quicker than normal as the state of that house she’s currently placed in is not meeting my standard. They won’t be fostering for us anymore after this,” she adds as if she isn’t supposed to tell him. “You should be hearing from me within the next week or so.”

Only a few more days until he figures out if this was all for nothing.

“Thank you, for even considering this,” he says while walking her out.

“It is always a priority for me to look at family members, especially those who care as much as you do.” She holds out her hand and he shakes it. “It was a pleasure meeting with you again, Steve.”

With that, she walks out the door and the inspection ends. Leaving him with what feels like misplaced hope starting to flutter in his chest. He might have actually pulled this off. Just might.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #julie lawson #dustin henderson #lost sibling fic #secret sibling #steve has a sibling #steve has a sister #tw minor panic attack #cw minor panic attack #stranger things fanfic #fanfic

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humbletumblecrudi · 1 year

Note

Hello 🌻

I just wanted to say, I just found your blog and it's such a hidden gem!!

I love how you depict some of my favorite characters like Jade and Rook.

And I think your requests are open so I wanted to try and make one, if it's ok.

Could you do a continuation of the one where reader had accidentally led on Jade, but with a happier ending?

It's just that it totally broke my heart, and also I think it would interesting to read Jade's reaction onwards.

Like, maybe the perfect's crush didn't work out or something similar, would Jade make a move having realized his feelings?

Or maybe reader's crush wasn't deep feelings and in retrospective they realize Jade was special to them so they make the first move?

Azul's line got me thinking a lot as you can see xD

Sorry I think I'm rambling x0

But then again, don't feel pressured to write it, I'm very happy I got to talk a bit about it

Thanks again for sharing your work, its amazing, take care (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

-🌻

Writer's Note(s): Oh I love Jade so much and that request hurt my soul having him lead on! (⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠) He was so in love and it hurt to leave it on a cliffhanger, I'm so glad you asked for a Part 2! I'd love to do it!

What Azul said near the end was supposed to be a slap to Jade's efforts, because of the 50/50 chance he had, he lost it. It hurt me to write! I also wanted to smite whoever it was Reader actually likes, because salt. 🧂😭 Azul was trying to be a good friend, he really thought it was Jade too... (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

Part 1 is here!

Info on Reader: Reader is a Male Reader, and uses he/him. The Reader has no descriptions given, but Reader is mentioned to have hair in a brief description. The Reader is not intended to be MC, but it's loose enough he can be. Readers not manipulated by Azul, Jade, or Floyd at all during this work, everything is done naturally.

Ship(s): Jade × Male!Reader who really loved him

Fujoshis and Fem Aligned Readers DNI || Enjoy your Part 2!

ＪａｄｅＬｅｅｃｈ || ジェイド・リーチ

To say his heart was soured for a while would be an understatement, especially when he was with someone he would naturally need for company. Floyd and Azul had been his choices, naturally, but also honest types like Trey and Jamil get a peak at him.

Azul had been honestly shocked that day you said a name that wasn't Jade, because it honestly felt like a bad rom-com deep in his head. A pining flirt like Jade can't be easily ignored unless you're actively avoiding seeing everything he does, so that had been one huge slap to the face... and not to Azul.

Of course, he'll try and fulfill your wishes and attempt to get your crush to notice your efforts. They can't use magic that might be manipulative after all, so Azul does anything he can for you. Gets their full schedule on note, gets their favorite items written down, and algorithms their favorite topics to talk about. But it's your hard work that needs to use it properly, so he leaves that to you.

Floyd is also not pleased by any of this. He may be Jade's sibling, but as a co-worker and seeing Jade give you extra pops on your coupon because he's smitten with you makes his face turn downwards. At first, he didn't seem to register that you said a different name, because he zoned out. He thought this was where Jade and him would have to be sent out of the room as a "show of faith", because you'd fluster and not be able to say Jade's name right in front of him...

But that sounded a lot like someone else. And Jade looked, honestly, more hurt then he'd ever seen his brother hurt before. Of course, the look on Jade didn't last long and Jade became more cordial and flat afterwards, but Floyd looked cross. What? What was this? This just felt icky but he's not good with words, so he just pouts until their alone to ask what's up here.

Later on, Floyd would look at you and ask Jade, "This guy! Look at him, all obtuse!" Jade doesn't stop him, because Floyd is entitled to feel as he pleases. And he's mostly out of it.

But Jade left almost immediately after you did, and only said, "It seems very late. I should go." Before he basically booked it out of there. Floyd wasn't happy about assisting with counting money, but he wasn't going to complain about Jade leaving at all. He can completely understand.

By the time Floyd got back to their shared room, Jade was already asleep. Youch.

Jade, during all of this, will be honest with himself and say that it had hurt to hear anything that wasn't him said in your voice. The sinking in his stomach was like when Jamil threw him from great heights into the desert in Scarabia, and the cold feelings he felt afterwards felt very bitter and chilly to him.

He never thought he'd say this, but his heart hurt for you and he almost felt vicious about it. Why? What was this? What's so special about this rejection? He's been rejected before...

And why does sitting next to you in class, because he had pulled strings a month ago to be near you in your shared class, make his heart flutter again? Your reading Azul's notes and messing with your hair as you stress about if this person will like you back, and this and that and this and that... !

He honestly wanted to ignore this, ignore you... but as you lean into him and ask him what this sentence means (as Azul is a bit too eloquent sometimes), he can only help you. He can't really say no to you yet, and this was his job technically...

As he reads it and tries to process what it could mean, he pushes his hair on his right side back as it scratches his ear. As he does so, he doesn't catch you staring a bit too long at his profile.

He tries to leave class last, but you seem to linger as well alongside him. He really hoped you would leave while entranced by your notes, but you stayed next to Jade as he packs up slower than usual. It can't be helped, he thinks, you're still technically friends.

And definitely, he realizes very quickly how much time you both spent together on a daily basis as the next few days pass. The odd lunch with him and Floyd happens, you always share your breaks together after shared classes, and you usually join him at the café once all your duties are done elsewhere. And that's not counting passing each other in the hall or using a facility like the library at the same time.

If Jade didn't know any better, he'd say he was trying to continue the hurt for himself, because this wasn't helping. And he definitely wasn't getting help from Floyd or Azul to get you to change your schedule somehow... your still special to him.

Maybe you could be friends. It'll take a while, but he'll manage. He's very good at making others perceive himself in a certain manner.

It wasn't long until he noticed that you weren't reading Azul's notes as long as you used to, especially since you often had him translate for you. The papers are not in direct sight for classes, so Jade assumes that you've studied them religiously and properly.

You seemed more downcast than usual, and he hopes that he doesn't hear about you getting together with your crush. That would be too much, especially barely a week past the request from Azul.

He doesn't notice, however, the many things that have turned towards him with you. He had taken to not really looking at you in the eye as much to help his heart stop racing, but it also only helped him not notice that your eyes are far more gentle for you. It seems, something may have changed...

After about two or three more days, Jade's starting to feel more calm about potentially losing you. Of course, after the papers had disappeared he knew he couldn't let this hang him up any longer. It was unhealthy and he knew a week had passed with little change, so he tried to distract himself. Inevitable things are unimportant details, it's going to happen. Seeing you was inevitable. And so he decides to just try his best and try tending the bar again...

... Until he sees you slide up on the bar near after-hours. He hummus as he thinks, it's inevitable. People need food, drinks, and socializing. It's inevitable.

While he begins cleaning the bar and menus, calling for Floyd to send the freshman home before the cleaning starts at closing, he starts to talk to you like it was a week ago. He knows he's been a bit withdrawn, but he won't fault himself. New situation, new faces.

"How are we doing tonight, sir." He greets with his signature hospitable smile, but it's simply a formality for you. "Did you come for drinks, food, or a meeting?"

"Just to wait for your off hours, Jade. I want to tell you something, and hopefully it's not interrupted." You answer, and definitely, it is likely an interruption might happen. This school was full of surprises and chances.

Jade doesn't dare let his mind wander to thinking of anything you might want to talk about. All he knows is your calm, and you're here for him. Nothing else. "Certainly. I'll make an exception to the one drink for loitering rule, just for you."

"Thank you Jade." He always does that for you, breaks an inconvenient rule just for you, but you always thank him anyway.

As soon as the kitchen closes and Jade gets two people to mop the main floor, he finally realizes it's time to talk. Two people as your only potential witnesses is better than nothing. He tosses his towel over the sink and runs hot water to melt the remaining ice, before he's done. And it's time to talk.

"What did you need from me while I was at work? Usually, I hear about most things over text or in class." Jade inquired into what this might be about.

"Well... I would like to talk about what happened in Azul's office." You state, and then add. "Not as his employee! As Jade Leech, you know?"

"... Go on." He really wished he had glasses to polish. Something to dust. Ice to refill.

You continue. "I was going over what I wanted as I read his notes and some of that information... well, it didn't sound like the person I crushed on. Was the person I was thinking of just a public face they had to look more appealing to a certain crowd. Maybe, I don't know..."

Jade wants to laugh, is that not what he also does to a certain degree? Everyone has faces and masks, so what could it be that you found so strange? Of course, Jade didn't really know from his absence gathering information on this particular request, but he's sure Azul has files.

Jade actually feels a bit... calmer? A more natural serene peace, if you want to look deeply. It feels almost like when he hopes Floyd doesn't burn the kitchen and ruin equipment while experimenting in there, and then coming in to see an actual maintained kitchen.

"Well, it's complicated, but something happened and I just couldn't go through with asking them out... I know that my heart's not in the right place and there's just someone I need to be more honest with." You seem sheepish but no less determined as you lean forward on the bar.

"Well, if you've been dishonest the only things you can do are tell the truth and atone. The crime should fit the punishment after all." Jade gives you the push you need to finish what you started, as he will have time to fully answer you if you continue.

And almost as soon as the mops hit the buckets and the two other students left for the back, did you finally confess. "I have been dishonest, Jade Leech. Who I really want to date, would be you, and not anyone else."

He has all the humility of an esteemed host, and the grace of a predator. But it seems even the noble Jade Leech, can turn pink and lose his words.

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inktailsaystuff · 1 year

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Rose finds Mordecai Lackadaisy One Shot because reasons

TW: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Rose stood at the st. Louis train station, clutching the letter she had stolen from her mother in her paws. The old worn paper, a reminder of what she lost. Her older brother Mordecai. Gone one night to never return. After years of trying to find him, she got a tip from someone that a tuxedo cat that fit the description Rose had sent out lived in st. Louis. A tuxedo cat with a permanently angry expression and green eyes. Rose's tail lashed, this was is it. Maybe she would finally find Mordecai.

St. Louis was miserable to say the least, however finding a room was easy. An old cat named Ms. Bapka had let her stay in her apartment, her neighbour was a terrifying cat missing one eye. Viktor he was called apparently. When Rose first said hello to him he seemed to do a double take when he saw her. He was gruff and spoke with a heavy accent, and once she had settled in she began her search.

She spent most of her days hiding under the guise that she was a man and watching cats as they passed through cafe's and restaurants. Her eyes looking over the crowds for a familiar face, bright green eyes and a white muzzle. However after one week of no luck, Rose started to lose hope.

Rose slammed her fist into the table, fury making her fur bristle as she cursed under her breath. Storming down the stairs she nearly ran into a young smoky grey cat.

"ACK!" She dropped her stacks of magazines.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Rose immediately back tracked helping the cat pick up all her magazines off the floor. "I'm so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going and-"

"It's fine." The cat smiled regaining her composure. "Are you new? My name is Ivy." She extended a paw, her bright yellow eyes looking into Rose's green ones.

"Uh... yeah uh- I'm Rose." Rose introduced herself., subconsciously fixing her jacket.

"Huh." Ivy looked Rose up and down. "I've never seen you before." Ivy commented.

"Oh yeah. I'm- I'm just staying for a while." Rose's tail twitched as she spoke.

"Well it's great to meet you!" Ivy grinned, "Would you be willing to go for a cup of tea sometime?"

""Uh..." Rose stepped back, "I'm actually- um kinda busy right now."

"What are you doing?" Ivy pressed.

"Just uh visiting." Rose smiled awkwardly trying to escape the smokey cat.

"Great! I can show you around!" Ivy grinned grabbing Rose and dragging her off. "Hey Rocky! Can you start the car!?" Ivy called out to a tabby in a blue suit.

"Uh I-"

"Come on." Rose was pushed into the back of the vehicle. Ivy sat down next to her, meanwhile two cats sat up front. The tabby named Rocky, and a ginger who's name she was unaware of. "I can show you around and show you some of the most popular places." Ivy prattled on, that peaked Rose's interest. Maybe she could find her brother.

"A-Alright." Rose nodded, "Do you happen to know anywhere where one can get a good tea and french toast?" Rose spoke up remembering her brother's fancy pickings.

"Mhm." Ivy grinned, "Little daisy cafe. C'mon Rocky let's show Rose."

The cafe was small and quaint, once nearby Rose practically threw the door open as if trying to catch her brother sitting at one of the chairs. However to her disappointment no one was there. While Ivy prattled on about the cafe, Rose took it upon herself to look around for any trace of her brother. Perhaps a surface was too clean, or items were in perfect symmetry. However she found no trace that hinted to her brother.

"Uh are you looking for something?" The ginger she had now known as Freckle asked her as she inspected the counter.

"No." Rose answered a little too quickly. "I'm just looking around."

"You are... looking rather closely at that counter..." Freckle mumbled as Rose's nose was practically glued the smooth counter surface.

"Just looking." Rose flashed him a smile, an attempt to calm the ginger's nerves. "So. Have you met anyone that looks like me around these parts?" Rose asked very casually.

"N-No?" Freckle mumbled, stepping back. His round face contorted into an expression of confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Rose smiled again, before going back to staring intently at the walls. Her ears pricked as she listened for rats and other vermin. Rose ignored the whispers between the two male's as she scanned the walls, her gaze landed on a framed picture. But her eye was drawn to the tuxedo cat in a suit. " MORDECAI!" Rose practically threw herself at the picture as if to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. Sure enough, the familiar angry expression and tall stature solidified it. That was Mordecai. In a heart beat she had turned to Ivy. "Do you know where Mordecai is?" She asked pointing at the picture.

"Uh? Mordecai?" Ivy stared, "How do you know him?"

"Not important where is he!?" Rose asked urgently.

"He doesn't work here anymore." Rocky grinned, "He works at the hotel now."

"What hotel." Rose asked, her gaze piercing through the cat.

"Hotel Maribel." Rocky grinned.

"Where is that." Rose was already storming out of the cafe.

"Why do you-"

"I could drive you?" Rocky interrupted Ivy.

"Deal." Rose sat in the front seat of the car while they drove, the world didn't exist to her anymore. She was so close. And this time she would not let him get away. If she was looking around she would have noted at how beautiful the hotel was.

However Rose didn't care, putting on her sunhat to hide her face, her eyes scanning the crowd. The other three sat nearby, but hidden in shadow something about enemy territory or whatever. Rose tapped her foot against the floor as she watched cats walk in and out. A woman with a bone necklace, a tall man with yellow eyes...

Rose's heart froze as she spotted him. Mordecai. Her brother stepped into the hotel looking aloof as ever. Rose didn't care how obvious she was. Standing up she stormed over in his direction. She watched how Mordecai stepped back placing his hand into his trench coat. But Rose was faster, grabbing him by his shoulders she glared at him.

"Mordecai." Rose snapped, her hat had fallen off. Her brother looked like he had seen a ghost, his tail bushed up as he stared at Rose.

"Who-" Mordecai wrenched himself out of her grip.

Rose placed both her hands on her hips, her tail lashing behind her. "Oh? Don't remember me?" Despite the fact that Rose had imagined their reunion to be happy, it was everything but that. Rose's bottled up emotions had decided to show, years of built up rage, anger, and resentment. "It's me. Rose. Your sister." She snapped, shoving one finger into Mordecai's chest. "You know. The sister you ABANDONED!"

Mordecai looked mortified, with one swift movement he grabbed Rose dragging her to a random room. "What are you doing here?" He hissed, staring at her as he shut the door behind him.

"Finding you." Rose crossed her arms, glaring at her brother.

"Why-Why would you do that!" Mordecai groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I told you-"

"I don't care what you told us!" Rose snapped, "Do you not know what happened after you up and left?" She could feel her eyes tear up.

"Rose..." Mordecai looked down at her as he fixed his pince-nez.

"I spent years looking for you." Rose snapped her voice cracking. "Years." She wiped the tears that spilled out of her eyes. "I- I thought you didn't love us anymore." She whispered.

"Rose..." Mordecai wrapped his arms around her, despite his hatred for physical contact. This was his sister. An exception to this rule.

"Why did you leave...?" Rose asked, as Mordecai soothed her. "Why did you leave us?" Mordecai refused to look her in the eye, instead staring straight ahead at the wall.

"Because..." Mordecai sighed, "I got... I got into bad business." Mordecai stroked her hair trying to comfort her. "And, I ran away because there were hitmen after me. And then... I could not come back."

"W-what?" Rose looked up at him horrified.

"I know." Mordecai looked away, "But then I joined Lackadaisy and a gang, and I couldn't exactly leave. So I stayed."

"Why- Why would you do that." Rose whispered.

"Money." Mordecai shrugged. "You needed the money,"

"You stupid furball!" Rose whacked him, "You idiot." She collapsed, "We could have... we could have just found a different job."

"I'm sorry Rose." Mordecai hugged her, "You should go home."

"I am not going back." Rose stubbornly looked up at him. "I'm not letting you leave again."

"Rose-"

"No!" Rose grabbed him, clinging to him. "I- I don't want you to go..." She whispered. "Please..." She clung to her older brother. The brother she had spent years trying to find.

#lackadaisy #mordecai heller #rose heller #viktor vasko #lackadaisycats #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff

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yugioh-why-not · 8 months

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Yami Yugi and Atemu

I wonder how much Atemu knows.

Would having his memory affect how he acted? I know things would have been different. Because Yami is not Atemu, he doesn’t even know who that is. The funny thing is at first he thought he was Yuugi because it’s the only thing that made sense to him. Then everyone told him he was the pharaoh. So he believed them. Never once did he really remember anything.

He believes what he’s told because he knows no better. People praise him for the things that he does so they must be right.

But Yuugi representing the pharaoh in appearance doesn’t mean Yami is the Pharaoh as shown with Ryou, Ryou and Thief kings appearances differ greatly and so do that of Yami Bakura and his former self Thief. Yami looks like Yuugi because it is the body he is possessing. Not because that’s how he looked in life.

For all we know and I would doubt this is true but it’s shown no one even Thief knows how the battle was ended. Zorc merely knew they lost. He lost. Maybe Atemu summoned Holactie giving up his life to summon the gods and bring fourth a goddess. Maybe those were his Ka’s all along? And he died in battle but Zorc and Holactie were evenly matched. Or perhaps they didn’t even get to that point in the battle maybe Atemu was never destined to defeat Zorc but he was chosen by fate to have three Ka beasts within him so that he could help those he loves defeat the darkness instead. Sacrificing himself to seal the gods into tablets so that someone may call to them and have them merge to form Holactie. Maybe she wasn’t involved in the first show down cause no one knew how to summon her. The gods alone could not defeat Zorc, so Heba enraged with his loves death despite just being the page boy used the puzzle and the items to trap Zorc and Thief in the ring in turn trapping himself and as a fail safe left by Mahado in the ring and with Atemu’s sacrifice it sent out a power surge and wiped Heba’s memories/that or he forgot due to trauma of the entire day and Thief and Zorc’s because a burry mess fuelled by a rage that slowly looses its reason the longer the ring festers in their souls. Thus involving season 0 and earlier season 1 actions, Heba was still carrying a now unjustified rage because it wasn’t fair. He wanted justice just like Thief. He just didn’t know what for. Then he met Yuugi and I mean actually met him and they begun their time together. (Though if this was the case I’d love for Heba to be in Thief’s game and revive his memories then just stare at himself in the water tears pricked in his eyes, hugging his waist. ‘I always wanted to be in your arms. But not like this.’ Then Yuugi shows up behind him calling out and he jolts eyes filled with an unusual sensation of fear as he sees Yuugi approaching looking so warm. So happy to see him, thoughts race his mind whether Yuugi loves him or the idea of who they thought him to be. Everyone was so convinced he was the Pharaoh and he’d grown to love Yuugi as he had once and still did love Atemu but would Yuugi love him if he knew. He tries to play the role but he can’t lie to his partner and tells him. Perhaps I can’t remember if ‘Yami’ playing as Atemu in canon revived any memories but perhaps Heba was there too, their his memories too. Finding Atemu’s name didn’t help him but it released his first loves Ka’s so he could do what he was meant to do so in the first battle. Atemu whispering the Goddesses name in his ear. He wasn’t loosing Yuugi to this war too and summoned Holactie. Anyway, got slightly off topic. And even reviving his memories he wanted to finish what Atemu died to set in place. Since this is au enough I can continue with this plot how ever I please. Heba can realise that what Thief and himself fight for is the same. For the love of those they’ve lost. But he needs to end this dance of death for both of them so he defeats Thief without looking back. The final duel where he uses the God cards against Yuugi (from memory he does at least) he uses them to finally free his love from the shackles of destiny and they reunite in the after life or we fuck death and Yuugi can have Heba, Atemu and Anzu as life partners. That or Atemu stayed in the after life and dated Thief cause I like Casteshipping and Atemu can send Heba back to life because he knows that Heba also loves Yuugi too and he’s served him long enough it was time to live his own life and someday they’d all be together again and he knows no matter how long that takes Heba’s love for him will never fade and his won’t either type stuff IDK but Yuugi get’s two life partners at the very least, he just has too much love to give for just one).

Long story short we don’t actually know who’s in that puzzle. I can’t remember any concrete proof it was the pharaoh. Maybe his name went down in history for something someone else did in his demise. Maybe it was a cover up. Thief wouldn’t know. He died first. Everyone else just believes the history that’s been handed down to them and the visions that the items present to them. Plus I think the Ishtar’s are pretty good Proof that they were all just acting on their own accords. (Mostly cause I don’t believe for a moment they consulted anyone before sprinting underground, maybe they thought to seperate the items as their awaited the Pharaohs and the Thief’s return and just took their two and fucked over millennium of their family members before Malik murdered the cult with his alternate personality because he realised it was fucked up. That was once again off topic…anyway.) For all we know the items were just manipulating everyone to get history right. And if the gods were Atemu and they were released the prophecies wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. The Pharaoh was laid to his final rest with the destined duel.

Anyway back on topic again…

If Atemu retained his memories saying he was the one in the puzzle, how much did he remember, does he know Thief dies before the battle ends, does he know why Thief’s so desperately fighting him that he’d defy life and death for it. Did Atemu like as Yami just believe the things he was told, growing up in the palace, raised by those around him and taught what they believed, would he side with them. He might of seen it as the greater good, the items were created to save the world to cause peace (beautifully discussed in a post I read a while back, that also mentioned that no one expected Atemu to sacrifice himself but he did, if I find if I’ll link it otherwise let me know if you find it).

Would his time away from home, his time with Yuugi change his opinion, does he struggle at night whether to tell Yuugi everything he knows, would he doubt his past, he did what was right. He fought for justice, which is why Bakura angers him so much because he’s literally a ghost from his past, it’s clear that he’s different that he’s twisted and demented from the justice seeking Thief he once fought in his first life. He wants to move forward but he gets an unjustified rage seeing him because it forces him to admit that maybe the things he fought for, believed in was wrong. Because the thing was in memory world, Yuugi placed his faith in Atemu that he’d do what’s right and believed what he said was the right, they wanted to save the world and defeat Zorc. But Atemu even then showed no remorse for the lives taken to create the items, he looked the other way with no memories as he found out he just fought for what he had always known, that he was the hero and Thief was the villain and that was that, black and white.

There’s no real way to say how the battle truly ended the first time, this was a reenactment that was shown to be one that neither Zorc nor Thief knew how it ended, how they were defeated. Why they were trapped in the items isn’t clear at all times, maybe Thief/Zorc fused into the ring as an escape before they lost and maybe Atemu knew they’d return and sealed himself in the puzzle to continue the battle. But what exactly happened to their memories? was it a condition that he couldn’t remember, a fail safe as to not jinx the battles end (especially on Thief’s side), but why were Bakura’s left in better nick then Atemu’s? was it Zorc’s doing or Diabound’s? or did Atemu realise at the end and turn against the Gods and side with Thief realising the wrongs they’d done to him and being their hero, they took his betrayal very fucking personally. Maybe he went to the puzzle to do things right this time but they broke his mind upon entering in hopes this time he wouldn’t sway in loyalties and in a time and place unrelating to his past with a version of Thief that was a fragment of who he once was just living off rage and a dark god whispering in his ear for millennium, fuzzy memories plague him and a rage he can’t settle when he sees Yami because he knows it’s Atemu or at least he believes it’s him at least. It frustrates him he doesn’t remember and he doesn’t remember Atemu joining his side. So he doesn’t try to share, he doesn’t want to say it, the element of surprise was on his side and it’s been 5000 years in the waiting he wanted to do it right but he likes to make Yami question things such as messing with him in their duel on the blimp, he wants Yami to work it out himself even though he knows he never will.

BTW, take all this with a grain of salt cause my mind was just like who the fuck is Yami Yuugi. And went on a distracted tangent. I was actually thinking about Ryou and Yami Bakura then thought about Thief and the differences between them and then Atemu and then Yami, I consider Yami and Atemu seperate beings and peoples regardless of who they are, I just like thinking about how little we know about the ancient peeps. And since I spent like 5 hours randomly obsessing about this I wanna share it -_- have fun!

#yugioh #ygo #yami yugi #atemu #atem #pharaoh atem #pharaoh atemu #I just randomly got stuck on this at work today and as I have no one IRL who likes yugioh I'm sharing here instead #also have a heartship ramble I wrote a few weeks ago but Idk if I'll ever post that one for now have this #it's highly off topic #heba #yugioh au #ygo rambles #might try drawing heba sometime #idk I don't think he looks identical to yuugi and I'm pretty sure he's fan made to be Yuugi's replacement in ancient egypt aus and stories #but I like the idea of them but I think they look different to both Atemu and Yuugi #anyway not sure if anyone will read this but have fun if you do #gonna post before I over think posting and leave this in drafts forever Xp

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uncleskyrule · 6 months

Note

for the fic writer ask game, 1, 26, 30, and 41? :))))

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Oh boy, this is tough. I experiment with writing styles frequently, so idk if there's just one that could be a good introduction to them all. Still, I guess I'll go with this one: "alive again" (short oneshot of post-BotW Zelink being cute and silly).

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

Lol since you sent this ask, I've written two entire fics without dialogue: "this one at last" (TotK Zelda's POV of waiting for LInk) and "you waited smiling for this" (HW Link's journey of self-destruction and then healing). I'm interested in trying out a dialogue-only fic, but I don't have any ideas yet. There has to be a reason why there's only dialogue, y'know? I don't want to just write it that way just because.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Yes, and I'm so proud of it! I've never written whump or any kind of fight scene, and definitely have never mixed humor and angst before, so writing this fic was a challenge, but it totally worked! One commenter said that this fic felt like someone put Looney Tunes music over an action film, and the compliment hasn't left my head since. Without further ado, I present "holding out for a beedle" (BotW Link gets captured and tortured by Yiga but Beedle saves the day).

Maybe this fic affected my approach to writing by giving me confidence to explore more. Now that I know I can write a decent fight scene, I want to try to push myself to write something more in depth, like a spar between HW Zelink.

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

HAh, you think just ONE fic will suffice??? I had a hard time choosing from my bookmarks list but here are some that fit the bill:

I STOP TO SMELL THE BLOOD IN THE TREES AND FOR A MOMENT THE WORLD IS SO BEAUTIFUL IT BRINGS ME TO TEARS by @corpsentry

“Let’s say you’ve been asleep for a hundred years and when you wake up you’ve lost all your memories, but you defeat the big bad monster like you’ve been told to, because a girl told you to, and because you were in love with her. And after defeating the big bad monster she comes back, only she’s not the person she was a hundred years ago. And you’re not the person you were a hundred years ago. And yet every time you look at her, your chest hurts so bad you think you might be dying.” He looks up from his breadstick. “Am I dying?” “No,” Beedle says. “I think you’re stupid.”

among golden hues by @syilcawrites

[totk] Link and Zelda reunite (in one form or another)

on gods and deserts and children by @lemoncakedesign

he is the hero chosen by the goddess. he is the bearer of the legendary blade. he is the savior of a land. he is a child. he is a killer.

Hold your faith in death and don't breathe by @sister-dear

The thing Legend hasn’t told Sky, hasn’t told any of them: Twilight isn’t the only one with an item that lets its user change shape at will. The thing Sky hasn’t told any of them: his version of the Master Sword has a few special tricks of its own.

Old Car, New Roads by Anonymous (TT)

A hum of an old engine in distress fills the air as a dark lowrider pulls up in front of the rows of storage units. The beater pull to a jerking stop in front of his garage unit. The brakes lurch unhappily and Four cringes at the sound of the wheels. The whole car vibrates unhealthily before coming to a stop as the engine cuts out. The window rolls down with a squeak and Shadow pops his head out, arm leaning out of the opening. He's got dark sunglasses and the hood of his jacket pulled up to protect him from the midday sun. "So?" Shadow asks, smirk pulling at his lips, "What do you think?"

Thanks for the ask, Evie!

#loz fic rec #fic rec #zelink fic #ask game #asks #reyna's ramblings #my fic #reyna responds #whyoneartheven #long post

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mrschwartz · 1 year

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before i share how the concert itself was, i have to tell this story bc it's one of the craziest things that have happened to me

my flight to curitiba got delayed 2 hours because the flights before it were also delayed and it caused a domino effect. so i got to curitiba 2 hours later than i'd planned to, which meant that i went to bed 2 hours later, which meant that i woke up and went to wait in line 2 hours later than i planned. right? hold that thought.

after waiting in line, the inspection before entering the venue was an absolute shitshow. they didn't account for the fact that there'd be significantly more female fans than male, so there were too many spare male inspectors, and so to speed things up they let guys cut the line to go get inspected before the women. like????? some people who got there Hours after me ended up in front of me during the show. im still. Pissed

but then also like. the inspectors were so unprepared it's Unreal. the woman who inspected me is the dumbest person alive, she'd take like 5 min per person and make people throw out stuff that wasn't even prohibited like cigarettes and mints. when it got to me she saw my analog camera and started insisting that it couldn't go in and that i'd have to throw it out, despite me knowing For A Fact that i could, bc i have countless times and knew that the prohibited items list only mentioned professional cameras with detachable lenses (which is absolutely fair and which mine absolutely wasn't). at that point i was less worried about losing my camera then having gone all the way to curitiba to just not go to the concert (which would've a been a bigger waste of money) so i just rewound the film roll to keep at least that, and then i turned to throw the camera out. holding a plastic bag full of cameras there was a cleaning lady, and she said to me "don't worry about your camera. after the show come looking after the cleaning crew, because we're keeping all of them to return them afterwards to everybody. i know how hard we work to buy our things" which was. So fucking sweet and thoughtful that i have no words. i thanked her a bunch, but i already knew that there was no in way in hell that i'd fight my way through 25k people when i'd already be desperate to get an uber back to my hotel. so i threw my camera out and Booked it

i found a spot (not as close as i'd like, but anyway!!!!) and set up camp there, waiting for the show, and i started talking to the people around me, as one does in these unique situations lol. i mentioned what happened to my camera and a guy beside me said they did the same thing to him, and we sympathized with each other. also, i was in a whatsapp group with hundreds of people who were going to the show too, and i sent a message there as well talking about the situation, more to get some commiseration than anything else, but barely got a response bc apparently it wasn't to everybody that the inspection was so harsh, only to the premium pit people. which rvkkfjkgg fucking christ, i swear.

But Then. like maybe two hours later? someone replied to my message (after it was buried under like hundreds of messages afterwards), saying "hey you!! who lost your camera!! i just got in, and the cleaning crew is at the premium pit entrance and letting everyone know that those who got their cameras taken can go there to retrieve it, because the venue has admitted they made a mistake by confiscating them!!" and i was like Of Fucking Course they did, i knew all along nvjdnjfvnjfvg (i'm laughing but god i was so fucking pissed). i thanked her a bunch too, but then i looked behind me and there were already like. 6k people that i'd have to go through, and it'd be an even more impossible task to find my way back. nevertheless i let the guy beside me that had lost his camera as well know that he could go try to retrieve his, if he was willing. and he said "yeah i'll go. what's yours like i'll go get it" and i was like "no way really?? it's like this and this, and i'd be Eternally grateful and i have no words etc etc" and then he disappeared into the crowd for what seemed like forever. and then! he came back with my camera!!!!!!!!!!!!! isn't that crazy?????

think about this along with me. if my flight there hadn't gotten delayed, i'd have gone to the concert earlier. my camera would've been confiscated anyway, but since i would've been more near the front, i wouldn't have been next to the guy who went to retrieve my camera for me. Insanity. life's crazy

the show was amazing, i'll talk about it later i promise. but after it ended i'll admit i had a bit of a main chracter syndrome lol, because i thought that i'd just have to walk out, get an uber and head to the hotel. but then i actually had to walk out alongside 25k heading towards the same direction for what seemed like kilometers because the streets were closed down due to the show, and the venue was in a really isolated area away from commerce and stuff like that, and it was Pouring rain, and i was by myself. so i got Desperate. lol. like true panic. i began to search the crowd with my eyes for people that seemed trustworthy, but most of them were either drunk or high, or in groups of people too big and intimidating. then i saw 2 girls about my age, and i approached them. "hey where are you guys going? i'm a little lost and i'd just like to find some commercial place or something where i could wait for an uber" and they Immediately sympathized with me and one of them was like "we're not from here either but stick with us, i have a cousin who lives here and he's the one who's coming to pick us up, he told us to wait for him by a supermarket up the road" so i started to follow them along, super grateful but still very scared because i Knew that even then it'd be so hard to get an uber, and eventually they'd leave, and i'd be by myself again

anyway, in the hubbub i ended up getting separated from them and lost again. i eventually found the supermarket i imagine was the one they were talking about, but no sign of them. i tried to get an uber for myself, i'm gonna estimate on the lower side, maybe like 20 times?? in a span of maybe 40 minutes. all of them rejected. then i walked around the supermarket to see if there i could have better luck and who do i run into?? the 2 girls!!! i couldn't believe it. they told me they looked for me after we got separated but that they didn't know my name so they couldn't even scream for me, but then there we were!! they said they still were looking for her cousin, and i said, my sense of shame already giving way to my desperation, "would it be cool if you guys gave me a ride to your cousin's house? i don't even have to go in, i'd stand on the sidewalk, i just think it'd be easier to get an uber there" which i know is Insanity, to go to an isolated area with people i don't know in a city i don't know, but hey i was already in a critical situation nvfkfmgkjbg don't question me, they really did seem trustworthy and willing to help!! and they said of course!! and then like, after i joined them this time we ended up finding him!!! in like 5 minutes. all of this is happening while it's still pouring rain btw, i feel like this is important info for the dramatic effect lol. when we got to the car, they told the cousin my idea, about letting me ride along, and he was So nice. he said "where's your hotel? i'll drive you there" and i was like "noo i don't want to be a burden, seriously i'll go to where you guys are going" already rooting for him to offer again so that i could accept it vjkfmgjkbng and he did! he said "no i mean it, it's no burden at all, i'll take you there" so i told him the address and he actually drove me there. i offered to pay and everything but they wouldn't accept my money. they were just good people who wanted me safe

i got to the hotel safely (and thanked them a bunch!!! ofc) all thanks to those 3 angels and goodness gracious that was the end of my day. like oh my god

#it was stressful but also one of the best days of my life???#it's crazy that one single 24 hour day had so many coincidences for the good you know!!!#people are good and now i can safely say that i owe my life to the willingness of kind people #the cleaning lady; the girl who let me know i could get my camera back; the guy who retrieved it; those 2 girls and the cousin #i can't wait to pay it all forward i can't wait

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allqrcoded · 4 months

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Devlog 5: Where are we headed? + Year end origin stories

Welcome back.

In all seriousness, I don't know how to number these things. Does the counter restart once the game you were talking about last dev log finishes production? Do you just keep on continuing despite now starting a new project? Either way, I'll go on & keep this as is. The year's almost ending and I feel like it's about time to announce the new game I'm working on (as if it weren't obvious that the MCs were revealed in my art blog months ago, but either way...)

With angel care officially being released on July of this year along with into sun&dark being a mini game jam project I sent out within the same time, there left a hole in my heart where handling a big project such as a game cemented itself in. Albeit, working on angel care has been a wild journey to say the least, but throughout it, I found out that telling stories through games allows me to merge the 2 things I love doing (writing & art). If making comics didn't click for me and solely writing a novel makes me worry about the specific character designs that might get lost, then making games is perfect.

Whilst the characters of angel care were solely made out of new OCs, Lucas and Del from sundark were actually repurposed characters from an old story I never completed. The universes weren't exactly the same, but the concept of doomsday remained. Rex from this new project, Descent to Negative Zero, follows the same repurposing. This time, it's about someone who comes back… Again, yes, but that trope is my favorite.

Origin stories

If you've been a follower of my art blog since last year, you might've seen a character I drew during October, Ace, with another character from a fandom I was active in (Daybreak.) He was a submission in a contest, but never got in, so I shelved him for a bit until this year, thinking that I could use him for an RPGMaker game in the future, since I always had the dream to make one (and guess where we are right now...) A bit dismayed because I had a fondness for him at that time, I clung onto that "maybe." And so, he sat there for a while, and eventually, my fondness for him faded away once I got the idea of angel care. Long live his skater boy and bunny motif along with his pink dyed hair.

And, look! Some drafts of the AC trio from last year too. But, moving onto Ace and fast forward to the final stretches of the AC bug-fixing hell...

(^ I remember back then that I really liked this final piece. Sometimes I keep thinking to myself that last year's events were from 2 years ago.)

My mind then drifted to Ace again... Disappearances and mist snatching, huh? Well, disappearing sounds good for a plot point, but I still need to work around the mist thing (Daybreak character entrails he left that I needed to clean up before he's completely separate from it.) The bunny motif and the pink hair were cute too. I wasn't too sure about the skater thing, so I decided to change it.

Long story short, he transformed from a skater to a shoegazer (my projection. I just wanted to include that song genre into this because I love it and for the sake of OST potential too). Kyle (the dude I used to draw him with a lot) needed a replacement too, so thus, his skater boy gene got transferred to Josh, his new best friend. Whilst that whole tangent was a big factor in the repurposing stage, in terms of clothes, Rexosh both wear some items in my closet that I just took and adjusted a bit -- both came from thrift stores, actually! Knowing that, I decided to make them thrifters and have them go to one in an early game flashback.

Right now, I don't have the jacket Josh wears because that's being tailored, but most of the elements are inspired by that.

I won’t spoil too much of the plot, but I will say that it’s connected to one of my previous games. Dt-z almost became a short summer visual novel until sundark came along and replaced it instead. Whilst its main element in the story stayed the same, it turned more puzzle-focused in the end.

Progress report/since when?

Starting up the project during summer, it’s been around four months since I made the first (yes, since it did get corrupted in some instances) RPGMaker file for it. Right now, I’m around coding the mid-point of the game with a bunch of placeholders in the project to get the ball rolling in the coding space since making parallax maps takes a while for me. Dt-z is more visually out there than AC, with the use of shadow overlays and what not. Making them for dozens of maps is a bit tedious (so, that’s why I’m putting that job in the late coding stage), but the end result is stunning.

As I’m writing this, I’ve paused on coding one of the mid-game puzzles. Surprisingly, I get a lot of stuff done in the weekends with this project. Making the solutions for them is a bit time-consuming, yes, but seeing it play out makes it worth it. Unlike AC, I don’t have all the time in the world to work on this game because of IRL matters, etc. So, the fact that I still managed to get a good amount of progress in just 4 months is pretty good. The dialogue doc for this game is also done in areas regarding important cutscenes, including a rough draft of what the end game would be like (right now, it's longer than AC's script page count wise! Maybe that's because I included some flavor text there.) I still have to adjust aspects of the script to keep their situation plausible there, but other than that, it's good. Without any context, here are some screenshots of what the maps look like from October and a recent one I took:

Albeit, I still need to adjust some things accordingly, but since this project is still in its baby stage, I'm not prioritizing that sort of thing right now.

So far, I'm trying to avoid the trend of RPGMaker game puzzles needing to find a key in every room and while puzzle making is a thing I'm not that experienced with, I realized that I took most of my inspiration with them with the games I've been playing these months, Death Mark and Spirit Hunter: NG.

Of course, me picking up those games wasn't because of wanting to take inspiration from them first — I just wanted a way to de-stress, but after a bit, I took some mental notes in my mind. NG's puzzles are very satisfying to solve. Whilst this dev log isn't focused on what games I played for the month, let's just say that I preferred NG over DM for a variety of things.

Moreover, I've been adjusting the endings and the way you get lore tidbits through the story to make the true end of the game pack more of a punch so that by the time you go ending hunting, you won't get dragged down by the same realizations the characters go through. There's a lot of flavor text I have to write, essentially.

Let's talk about themes

Continuing the trend of wanting to explore themes close to my heart in my bigger projects, Dt-z is in the same light with AC. Whilst the mood is entirely different (color palette not so cool/winter, characters being younger, even the premise being puzzle focused), Dt-z's themes were the ones that more or less defined my summers, just like how AC defined my winters (even if where I lived didn't snow, but, nevertheless, the phrasing still sticks).

I like to think that making art, helps me process stuff a bit and that's why I still got an itch in me to take up another big project similar to AC despite me knowing that this year would be busier than the last. I'm remaining vague here to not spoil the entire plot of it, but let's say that I hold the message I want to say through this dear to my heart. There's a lot I want to say regarding these two games (including sundark!), but I want to work on letting my audience make up their own conclusion on the work just based off the content without my involvement.

Albeit, as an artist, I've always had this selfish desire in me to want everyone to get this one conclusion — this one reading on what I worked on because with every piece I make, there's always a message I want to tell. But, through the years, I've gotten to the point where I stopped pseudo-denying the fact that people aren't like that. I've started even enjoying other readings of my work because through them, I get to see more perspectives I haven't even considered whilst keeping the main point in mind. So, let's just say that AC is about death and angels and winter and friendship and love. And with Dt-z, it's about love too because love is just universal.

Thanks for coming

Restraining myself from talking more about Dt-z's details… In summary, I've been enjoying working on this project. Rexosh really are fun to draw & I want to share their story sometime once I'm finished. I want to write more trivia blogs later on with my released games (especially AC because I have a lot to talk about there), but for now, I'll keep on going.

#dt-z #devlog #rpgmaker

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