per aspera ad inferi ; chapter one
[aka: the university ghouls fic]
aeon & dew (ghost band)
general | gen | 1.7k words | alternate universe (university), transmasc aeon, slow burn, general domestic niceness
tagging @midnight-moth for the biscuit tin idea that makes an appearance in this chapter and also for cheering this au on <3 same goes for @divine-misfortune and @ghoultrifle, thank you for indulging me in my university ghouls rambles and adding to the brainrot <3 i hope this first chapter lives up to your expectations :)
snippet and ao3 link under the cut !!
He smiles awkwardly and looks down at his lap. “Thanks, Mum…” He tightens his grip on the biscuit tin that’s resting on his knees. The two of them spent all of yesterday afternoon in the kitchen together baking batches upon batches of his favourite chocolate biscuits to take with him. The tin on his lap is filled to the brim but it’s barely half of what they made together, the rest are in a selection of reusable plastic containers, the idea being that once Aeon has eaten the biscuits he’ll be able to use the containers for storing things or bringing his own lunch to places instead of buying it. He takes the lid off of the tin on his lap and brings it to his nose, sniffing deeply. Chocolate. He’s sure over the next few weeks, he’ll come to associate the smell and taste of these biscuits with home and his mum but he doesn’t mind, there are much worse scents to associate with home, he reasons. He picks one of the biscuits up and silently offers it to his mum without looking away from the tin.
He doesn’t need to hear the smile in her voice to know that she’s glancing over at him briefly with that ever-knowing look in her eye. “Thank you, love. You should have one too, chase those nerves away with chocolate-y goodness.”
“I’m not nervous,” he lies, pointedly ignoring the weight of his mum’s gaze—the heaviness thankfully lessened due to the fact that she’s mostly focussing on the road. “...Okay fine, I’m a little nervous,” he admits, not that he needed to, given that the two of them already knew it, but it’s nice to speak the words out loud to an actual human for once. Up until now the only ‘person’ he’s admitted it to has been his favourite stuffed toy in the nights leading up to his departure, which, no matter how many different ways he thinks about, makes him feel ridiculously childish, despite the fact that he’s currently on his way to start university. He knows that lots of people his age and older still have stuffed animals and plushies of all varieties but he’s never met anyone that still talks to them in the way that he does. It doesn’t bother him much usually, but the fact that he’s going to be sharing a room with someone he’s never met before—someone who might judge him—is beginning to affect him more and more the closer he gets to campus.
“I can hear you thinking over there.” His mum’s voice breaks through the beginnings of his internal spiralling. “What’s going on, hun? Talk to me.”
“I’m just nervous about meeting my roommate,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing serious.”
[read the rest on ao3 !!]
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Kabal x Reader: Usual Visit
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"Pleasure doing business with ya as always, Flash." The red eyed Aussie grins wickedly at Kabal after handing him today's cut. The fast man smirks beneath the mask, counting through his pay like a child in triumph after doing such simple allowance.
Simple tasks such as terrorizing and killing a few people for Kano due to late fees they never paid back. How unfortunate for them, but to Kabal - and definitely Kano - a job is a job.
"Don't spend it all on hooks and hookers." Kano joked before dismissing Kabal off.
"Right," Kabal scoffed with amusement. "I have better things to spend it on." Without giving Kano the chance to pretend to be interested enough to ask, Kabal dashed off in his usual abnormal speed. Far outside the clan, he runs to a big house on a hill. Thank the gods, no cars were outside, and he's willing to bet there isn't one inside the garage.
Carefully, he walks around the house to the back and knocks on a specific window.
...
You peered at the window, putting down your brush and walking to see who it was. Pushing the blinds away, you smile happily to see your masked friend. Opening the window with a little struggle, you greet him. "Kabal!" You lean over to kiss his cheek affectionately. If only you see the goofy, flustered smirk beneath his mask.
"Hey, Y/n! Doing well today?" He asks charmingly.
"Fine as usual. I don't take my medication until about an hour, so I'm not drowsy yet." You shrug with an aloof hint. But you didn't want to bring down the mood. "What did you do today? Beat any bad guys?!" Your eyes sparkled, hoping he has a cool story on how great of a hero he is.
"Ehh, just a few." Kabal says, tilting his hand side to side. "No one too powerful, but I still got a good amount of money from it." The boasting continues. You were slightly disappointed, not because there wasn't much of a story today, but-
"I thought heroes don't get paid." You murmur with furrowed brows. You folded your arms on the window frame and rested your chin, looking at him, downed.
"Well, yeah- but I need to eat too, you know?"
"I guess." You agree with the easy excuse, much to his relief.
"I've actually forgot something for you! I'll be back in not even three seconds." Kabal promises. You lifted your head up and raised an eyebrow at him. It feels like a dare.
"Really? One-"
A gust of wind flew through your hair as Kabal rushes off, your heart skipping a beat or two before he suddenly appears back with a small bouquet of flowers. He makes sure to rip the price tag off before you notice. "Sorry, a few of the petals came off on the way back." He hands his gift to you.
The flowers were still pretty nevertheless. They brought a warm smile to your face, the joy radiating from you to Kabal. "They're beautiful! Thanks!"
"No problem. Is there something else I can do for you?"
Setting your gift gently aside, you thought for a moment. "Well, father doesn't let me order food online. For awhile, I've been wanting to try that bakery from down-" You weren't given the chance to finish your sentence before he rushes off again.
Briefly he returns with a fancy bag for you. Inside was a fancy plastic box of macarons - and you knew those were pricy - along with fresh strawberries, covered in chocolate. One of your favorite treats that made you disregard sadness. "Ohh, thank you so much, Kabal. I'll go get my-"
"No need, princess." Kabal 'humbly' raises his hand. "It's my treat to treat you."
You softly coo at him before you hear the garage open. Readjusting your gown you stood up, alerted. "My dad's back. You should probably go now." You warn him. He nods and steps back.
"I'll visit you again soon, okay?"
"Okay." You smile once more. "Thank you for stopping by."
Kabal takes off before he gets caught. As for you, you hid the flowers somewhere. Before you hid your treats, you took one out to eat it before hiding it.
What an admirable hero Kabal is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
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twenty questions for fic writers
thanks to @cricketnationrise @happiness-of-the-pursuit @kiwiana-writes
@ninzied @captainjunglegym for the tags friends! it's been a while since I've last done one of these so I figured I would participate again! xx
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how many works do you have on ao3?
56! (technically 60 though… 😏🤫)
what's your total ao3 word count?
1,248,687
what fandoms do you write for?
RWRB (currently) [ 1D and teen wolf (past) ]
top five fics by kudos:
but if you could see us from a distance you'd know I've always been so close to you - the og sex curse one shot
Something Borrowed, Something Blue - enemies to lovers at june's wedding
I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof - coworkers trivia fluff
praying our bridges don't make waves - soulmates with a twist
kiss me like you've got nowhere to be - roommates to lovers fluff
do you respond to comments?
nowhere near as much as I'd like to! my capacity for social interaction lately has been... lacking, to the say the least ksjhdkshd BUT I SEE AND READ THEM ALL AND I HOLD THEM SO CLOSE <3333
what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
ooh I can't usually do angsty endings so I'm carving my own loophole here -- the first two fics in the sex curse series are definitely my most angsty endings before they work their shit out in the third skjdhsjkhd
what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
most of mine do, but I'd say that overall the most fluffy ones are in the firstprince first kisses series!
do you get hate on fics?
I most definitely did in my old fandom but people have been generally very kind and supportive to me here so far! :')
do you write smut?
yes!
craziest crossover:
my george x firstprince hurt/comfort is very special to me <3
(but I also have a Jeff from bottoms x Shane from minx au in the docs so ksjhdhfjh that too)
have you ever had a fic stolen?
I hope not!
have you ever had a fic translated?
not in this fandom! but I have had some lovely folks record some podfics of my works! (here and here!)
have you ever co-written a fic before?
not for rwrb! (yet???? ksjhdkjhfkjh)
all time favorite ship?
I gotta go with fp! they got me like that niall horan ear crawling gif fr I'll never be the same
what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
oh gosh I'm not sure. I HOPE I finish them all but I also have an obscene amount so ksjhdksjdhf not crossing anything off yet!
what are your writing strengths?
I think dialogue? it's always the part of my fics that I write first, and then I build the rest of the story around it. I hope it's a solid foundation!
what are your writing weaknesses?
there's a fine line between explaining and over-explaining and I think sometimes I fall into the second category skjdhkjhf. I love some introspection as much as the next guy but I'm working on only including details that feel most pertinent to the story.
thoughts on dialogue in another language?
I love it! I think it can be so special and can be another way to connect readers with the characters and the story. I took Spanish all four years of high school so I'm a little rusty now, and studied French for a while a few years ago and just picked it back up recently! my translations aren't always perfect but luckily I've had some very kind people to check or point these things out for me :)
first fandom you wrote in?
..... hollywood heights sjkhdjkhgdfh
favorite fic you've written?
oh no. I am so bad at perceiving myself ksjhdjkdjfhg. I think each of my fics definitely served a purpose for me while writing them, but lately I've found myself returning to these three (I'm breaking the rules yes sorry):
Something Borrowed, Something Blue
there were pages turned with the bridges burned (everything you lose is a step you take) - diabetic!Alex
treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet -(soulmates)
but also there's a wip I'm working now which..... might take first place when I post skjdhkjsdh WE'LL SEE!
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PLEASE PLEASE CONSIDER THIS OPEN TAG IF YOU'D LIKE TO DO IT! with all of the tumblr nonsense and how behind I've been on here lately I'm all over the place with tags at the moment.
other tags (no pressure!): @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @thedramasummer
@heysweetheart-writes @stellarm @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead
@eusuntgratie @magicandarchery @read-and-write- @iboatedhere
@anchoredarchangel @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @alasse9 @itsmaybitheway
@getmehighonmagic @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse
xx
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Lil idea for the 3 Peter Parkers!
Peter 1, the youngest, often gets snarky with the older two "brothers". They both eventually decide theyve had enough of his jabs about their age, and team up on him, working together to tickle him to bits and teach him to respect his elders
Attitude Adjustment
Okay so if you’re like me and literally can’t keep the numbers straight: peter one (referred to just as Peter here) is tom holland’s spidey, peter two is tobey maguire’s, and peter three is andrew garfield’s. I felt SO silly writing in the numbers but there really is no other way LOL
Also, au where they’re in sort of a Spiderverse situation and the other spideys are trying to figure out how to get back to their dimensions. Absolutely no canon, just vibes.
“Hey Pete? How do you work this thing?” Peter Two huffs and flails his hands around through the holographic energy core in front of him. It spins listlessly, unsure how to interpret his gestures, and beeps at him.
“Comin’.” Peter rolls off the couch, chucking his phone onto the rickety coffee table. His new place was small, achingly so, but it was starting to come together nicely. He had pictures on the walls, a rug on the worst spot of the floor, and a bedframe. All progress was good progress.
“Show me how you’re doing it?” Peter squishes beside Two, who sort of swats at the hologram like an irritating bug.
“Oh, okay. So, uh, the hologram maps its movements according to your fingertips. If it can’t get a good read, it’s not gonna respond. Here, like this.” Peter pulls his hands into the projected image, twitching his fingertips and twirling his wrists. The simulated core spins and zooms at his whim. Eventually, the image flashes green, and a small loading bar picks up at the bottom.
“Neat.” Peter Two watches in awe as the computer begins to synthesize his formula. He idly spins the image around. “We didn’t have anything like this growing up. It’s crazy.”
“Glad I could help, grandpa.” Peter grins, giving Two’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. Two rolls his eyes and shoos him away.
“What a nice young man, helping the elderly,” Peter Three hums from the ceiling, typing away at his laptop as if his life depends on it. He looks a bit like a goblin, or maybe a vampire, hunched over all of them.
“I do my part.” Peter salutes, flips back over the couch, and pulls his phone back into his hand with a web. He’d lost his place in the Fantastic Four interview he was reading. He sighs.
“You both are hilarious,” Peter Two grumbles, watching a holographic array of complex mathematics spin in front of him.
Peter sinks down into the couch, into the quiet buzz of technology and Peter Three’s terrifying typing. It’s not silence, not quite, but it still gnaws into his bones in a way he doesn’t like. He’s been avoiding being Peter as much as he can lately, instead staying out on patrol as late as his body can handle. Collapsing on a rooftop as Spider-Man is easier than coming back to Peter Parker’s shithole apartment.
Spending time with people like him, people who get it, it’s…nice. Steadying. He knows it’s going to crush him when they leave, but having them now is more than he could ever ask for. He has no one, but he has them.
“Hey.” Peter leans over the back of the couch and waves at Three. “Need help?”
“Hm? No, I’m good. Still compiling that list of compatible metals. Hoping to keep this matter projector the size of a rubix cube. Or, worst case scenario, like a suitcase.” Peter Three gnaws at his lip, then squints at his screen. He flings out a web and snags his glasses, catching them out of midair. He puts them on with care, pinning the laptop to his upside-down lap with his free hand. After fiddling with the lenses, he gets them to balance properly.
“You’re still squinting.” Peter chuckles.
“It’s part of the creative process.” Three waves an idle hand, then squints more aggressively. “I, uh--I’ve got shit eyesight. It’s fine.”
“The spider bite didn’t fix your vision?” Peter furrows his brow.
“It did, but I wrecked it again. Too much blue light, too many flashbangs to the face--it all takes a toll, y’know? You should be grateful your eyes still work. Take care of them while you have them.” Peter Three nods sagely. He grabs his mug of long-cold coffee with a web and brings it carefully to his hands. He sips, gags, then comes back for more.
“Okay, dad.” Peter huffs with no venom. He tries not to be jealous that Three can drink upside down. He’s tried. Repeatedly.
“You have a remarkable amount of attitude for someone so tiny.” Three stares at him over the rim of his glasses, which shouldn’t be as funny as it is. Peter snorts.
“Right? It’s his tone,” Peter Two hums. The computer chirps at him that his equation is only sixty percent viable, would you like to try again? He thunks his head into the desk. Three’s mug slowly lowers itself down beside him. Two takes a sip, gags, and deposits the mug in the sink. Three balls up a piece of paper and throws it at his head.
“Alright, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy. How about we take a break?” Peter Two stretches, popping something in his back. He does the ‘keys, wallet, phone’ patdown on himself, turning in circles to make sure he’s set.
“Like a patrol break?” Peter perks up.
“No, a dinner break. I’m starving, and God knows when you two last ate. Or slept.” Two hazards a glance towards Three.
“Oh, I’m good. Go without me.” Peter Three keeps typing. Two’s glare chills the room a few degrees. He pointedly clears his throat.
“Y’know what, actually? A break sounds great. Super on board with the, uh, the break time.” Peter Three closes his laptop and flips down off the ceiling. He stumbles as he lands, hissing in pain. The laptop goes flying, but Peter just manages to snag it with a web. He cradles it to his chest.
“Thanks.” Three nods. Peter nods back. The room collectively sighs in relief.
“Is it your, uh--” Two maneuvers to support Three as best he can. They limp over to the corner of the kitchen together.
“My back, yeah. Shitshitshit.” Peter Three inhales tightly and leans up against the counter. He tips his head back against the cabinets and focuses on breathing.
“It just, uh--well, it locks up sometimes. No clue why.” Three shrugs, then winces.
“I think I have some painkillers. If it’ll help.” Peter sets the laptop down. Three smiles thinly at him.
“I’ll take you up on that. I’m usually fine after a few minutes. Just gotta wait it out.” Three winces again, gripping the countertop hard. The cheap vinyl cracks with the force of it. Peter tries not to wonder if he’ll have to pay for that--instead, he fishes out the pitifully empty bottle from his coffin-sized bathroom.
“Gimme your hands.” Peter Two crowds in front of Three and starts helping him stretch, slow and steady. After a heart-wrenching cry of pain, Three hums appreciatively. He twists side to side, working out as many sore spots as he can. Peter shakes the bottle at him and tosses it. He catches it and dry swallows the pills.
“Hm.” Peter leans against the wall.
“What?” Two huffs.
“Nothing.” Peter shakes his head with a smile. Fondness blooms warm in his chest. May used to tell him that he’s the only person who knows how to take care of himself best, what he needs. He wonders if she ever thought it would manifest this way.
“Alright, c’mon. What old man joke are you sitting on right now?” Two crosses his arms. His amusement is contagious.
“I wasn’t going to make fun of you!” Peter laughs.
“One day you’re gonna be a twenty-something with a bad back. You’re gonna be like ‘oh wise and mysterious Peter, please help me with my ailing spine’. Then you’ll get it.” Three grunts. He loudly cracks something in his back and all of them wince.
“What am I gonna do? Do a backbend over your walker?” Peter snickers. Three gasps and splutters, sending both of them into actual laughter. They’re terrible influences on each other.
“You are such a brat.” Two chuckles, mostly in disbelief. Peter sticks his tongue out at him.
“Were you like this?” Two jerks a thumb toward Peter. Three quirks a smile and regards Peter for a bit--the defiant jut of his chin and the fire in his eyes are heartwarming.
“I mean…yeah. Kinda. Just tall.” Three smirks.
“I’m not short.” Peter scoffs. Two and Three exchange a glance. Three leans on Peter’s head. Peter swats his arm away.
“You’re barely taller than me!” Peter huffs, throwing his hands in the air.
“First step is acceptance, buddy.” Two pats his shoulder. “Let’s get our shawarma on.”
Peter Three stifles his laughter into his fist, squinting in mirth through crooked glasses. Peter groans, smacking his face into his palm. He’s hiding a smile, though, and it makes Two smile in turn.
“What?”
“Let’s get our shawarma on?” Peter snickers, his shoulders shaking.
“Yeah, I can’t defend you. That was corny.” Three leans into Peter and soon they’re both giggling, set off by each other’s goofiness.
“You sound like a dad!” Peter giggles.
“Scratch that. We’re not going anywhere until we cure you of this attitude.” Two raises an eyebrow. Peter giggles at him which, while adorable, Two cannot stand for.
“You gonna send me to my room? Ground me? Oooh, I’m so scared--” Peter snorts, then he’s upside down. Peter Two’s got him around the waist like a sack of potatoes. He lets out an affronted squeak and tries to reach for the floor.
“Whatareyoudoing--” All the breath leaves Peter in a hefty woosh as Two worms his fingers into his sides. He squeals, his legs flailing wildly. He tries to pry Two’s hands away but gravity isn’t his friend at the moment.
“Spider deterrent,” Two says, deathly serious, but Peter can hear him smiling. Bastard.
“Nononohoho! Tickling is cheating!” Peter cackles, all hope of playing tough long gone with his breath. No matter which way he tilts, Two’s fingers are waiting to torment him--and he seems to have quickly figured out just how deathly ticklish his stomach is. Almost like he knew already.
“I didn’t know there were rules--” Peter Two ducks out of the way of an accidental kick-- “Hey! Violence is not the answer!”
“Gonna v-violence your stuhupid fahahace! Lemme go!” Peter growls, prying at Two’s wrists again. Two tuts at him and vibrates his fingers into Peter’s stomach. He shrieks and kicks his legs, all pent-up energy with nowhere to go.
“Aren’t you gonna help?” Peter gasps at Three, his voice way higher pitched than he’d like. His face is redder than his suit, little giggles still slipping free. He’s (mostly) deathly serious about murdering Two if he can just get out of this.
“Yeah, come help!” Two grins, beckoning Three over with a tilt of the head. Peter Three disappears out of Peter’s line of sight and he allows himself an evil grin.
“We’re gonna kick your--” Peter loses the last half of his threat to a yelp, then frenetic giggling as Three claws at his ribs. Peter screeches in betrayal and tries to swat at him, but he’s far from coordinated and it tickles, oh my god--
“Sorry. More afraid of him than I am of you.” Peter Three grins sheepishly, but his eyes shine with mischief. He walks his fingers up under Peter’s arms and he screeches loud enough to make a dog down the hall start barking. He lets out a snort and desperate syllables tumble out to follow. He manages to elbow Two in the gut and nearly gets dropped on his head for the trouble.
“S-Sorry! Tickles!” Peter hiccups and clamps his arms to his sides.
“You are so squirmy!” Two tosses him over the back of the shitty couch. Peter squeals at the sudden change in gravity, but then he’s squealing because they both follow him over the couch.
“I-I’m gonna get a noise complaint! Guys!” Peter throws his head back against the armrest and cackles, shoving at the two of them. He’s not sure where the ceiling is anymore, everything’s sort of spinning, but the slight burn in his chest is grounding.
“Alright, alright.” Two lays off and Three follows suit. Peter flings his arm over his face and tries to remember the sweet embrace of oxygen.
“Oho man. You guys suck.” Peter peeks at them with a goofy smile.
“Spider deterrent. Works like a charm.” Two puts his hands on his hips. Three leans up behind him and goes to poke his side, but Two catches his hand.
“Don’t. Do not.” Two points at Three threateningly. Three holds his hands up in surrender, but his grin is anything but innocent. He and Peter lock eyes.
“Spider deterrent, huh?” Peter leans up on his elbows with a cocky grin. “Every experiment needs multiple trials, right?”
“You’re both menaces.” Two grapples with Three, occasionally twitching but still putting up a fight. Peter manages to poke him a few times and get his arm caught, but Two can’t fight both of them.
A hush befalls the room as Peter Two visibly weighs his options, trying not to crack from Three’s pinching at his ribs.
Two throws himself over the couch, followed by Three, and Peter eggs them on from the safety of the couch. It’s like watching cats wrestle, really--there’s an indistinguishable tangle of limbs and shouting before Peter Three’s shocked cackle emerges from the pile.
“P-Peter! Help!” Three wheezes, holding his hand out for rescue.
“Oh, you want my help? Yeah, sure, I’ll help.” Peter cackles evilly, kicking off the couch and launching himself at Three.
“Wait, hold on--”
…
“98 percent viable. We did it,” Peter Two breathes, holding the hologram in his hands. The simulated core spins lazily. After hours of calibration and recalibration, the algorithm finally holds steady. Three squeezes his shoulder and laughs quietly, happily. They’re going home.
“Should we tell him?” Three casts a glance over to the couch. Peter’s out cold, curled up under a threadbare blanket that refuses to let go of its musty smell. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looks peaceful.
“Tomorrow. You both still owe me shawarma.” Two smiles, knocking their shoulders together.
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