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wordsvomit101 · 2 months

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That awkward moment when you realized that your big bro got laid with the person you tried to kill.

Author Notes: Credits to @eternal_auditor & @jazeswhbhaven, I got this idea for this shameless worldbuilding headcanons for Heaven and Angels thanks to both of them and the latter's "Angel Bros Headcanons: Michael Flips" post. I also just want to write the scenario in general. Warnings: Raphael is a caution flag himself, depictions of violence, thoughts of brutalizing and eating someone (being directed at MC) by Raphael, a lot of name-calling from Raphael directed at MC

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(Heaven - Time of Councils and Assemblies)

In the tranquil embrace of Heaven, evening descends like a gentle caress, casting a soft golden hue upon the timeless realm. As the radiant sun dips below the horizon of ethereal clouds, the celestial landscape is bathed in hues of pink, orange, and purple, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colors that stretches across the vast expanse of the heavenly domain. The sky is like a canvas painted lovingly by the hands of God, with the colors of a thousand sunsets, each stroke a masterpiece of divine artistry. The clouds, like celestial brushstrokes, dance across the canvas, their forms ever-changing, their edges illuminated with an ethereal glow.

Amidst the celestial splendor, angelic beings gracefully glide through the sky upon the archways of purest gold span the thoroughfares of Heaven, their graceful curves reminiscent of angelic wings in flight. Beneath these archways lie crystal atriums, their transparent walls revealing the celestial wonders of Heaven in all their resplendent glory. Their iridescent wings shimmer with divine light, flying gracefully as if they dance and pirouette in ethereal ballets, painting radiant trails of luminescence across the sky.

The lower-ranking angels engage in celestial chorales, their melodious voices intertwining in harmonies that resonate throughout the Heaven. The soaring soprano of archangels blends seamlessly with the velvety alto of cherubim, weaving a symphony that would uplift the soul and transport the listener to realms of pure bliss. The music reverberates through the celestial expanse, like a cosmic symphony conducted to worship the Almighty.

For middle-ranking angels, their beloved duty during the Pilgrimage to the Mount of Revelation to commune with their dear creator has to be despairingly pushed to merely Contemplation of Sacred Texts and attending to the Halls of Eternal Wisdom, a lesser, but an honorable duty nonetheless.

Even higher above, amidst ethereal spires and resplendent palaces that grace the heavenly expanse, angelic artisans toil diligently within the Halls of Artistry. Their deft hands sculpt magnificent statues and weave intricate tapestries, each a testament to the wonders of creation. They yearn for the day when their divine creator will bestow upon them a glimpse of their artistry, even a millisecond of recognition for their unwavering dedication to him would be more than enough.

While other angels tend to the flourishing celestial flora in the Gardens of Eternal Bliss. Radiant blooms burst forth in a splendor of colors, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. The angels nurture these heavenly gardens with love and care, a single damage to a petal of these beautiful flowers is enough to have their heads roll to the disgusting pit of Hell, however making a mistake in God's favorite garden is an even bigger sin.

It is a mundane day for all of them.

Bang!

"Sir-!"

Creak!

"AAAAAA-!"

Crunch!

"I have yet to finish my prayer-!"

Snap!

However, it wouldn't be a normal day if there wasn't a Raphael brutally tearing and eating fleshes of every angel on his path to the Chamber of Divine Counsel to meet with other Seraphs. His blood-caked shoes thundering over polished marble as he swaggers through the vaulted corridors of Heaven, his crimson-smeared wings unfurling like banners of carnage. Red marred his short blonde hair and white attire. With each wrathful step, he leaves a trail of dismembered angel carcasses, their alabaster feathers floating like ethereal snowflakes in his wake. His crimson eye fully emits an aura of violence and fury.

Thump!

Bursting into the Chamber of Divine Counsel with enough force to make the office tremble, the room was bathed in an ethereal glow, and the other Seraphs present, Gabriel and Michael, sat in their resplendent chairs, their expressions inscrutable. Raphael's form, however, drenched in the gore of his victims, stood in stark contrast to the pristine surroundings. He only has one thought of personally feasting upon that purple hair wench's flesh when she is still alive and making her watch herself being devoured alive and cut off her tongue so she couldn't even voice out her pain.

"Why... Why is it always her...! That bitch!"

The pure white chairs, crafted from the finest celestial ivory, bore the brunt of his rage, splintering and crumbling under his kicks. Yet Gabriel and Michael, their faces devoid of emotion, paid him little attention.

"If you insist on throwing a tantrum, I implore you to do so in a realm more suited to such sorrowful displays. Hell would accommodate your temperaments more appropriately."

Michael stood tall over the intricately designed long table with a mindmap and countless brainstorming notes. Standing in a place Brother Lucifer used to stand in each council meeting. His glare locked on the furious blonde seraph before him. A frown, as if carved in stone, creased his handsome face, adding an air of solemnity to his prideful demeanor. Around his neck, a regal purple choker, embellished with ornate gold rings and shimmering gemstones, encircled his throat. At its center, a prominent gold ring held a solemn cross pendant, its gentle clinking accompanying his every movement.

In a swift motion, Michael tilted his head to the left, displaying effortless grace as he dodged the flying chair hurtling towards him at high speed. The chair collided with the wall, its impact leaving a deep dent in the panel, a testament to the force behind the throw.

"Shut that shitty mouth of yours! Maybe try to go down there yourself to ask why our dear brother is entertaining trash!" As Raphael spoke, his voice trembled with anger and frustration, his words dripping with venomous accusation. A few veins already popped on his crazed, striking appearance. Filled with unrepressed anger that led him to kill his spies who reported to him and fly from the dungeon up here.

Yet Michael continued to look at his notes, his face blissfully indifferent. His right hand continued to write on many of his papers on the white table.

"He has simply strayed from the right path."

Brother Lucifer’s footstep-less feet headed for the vile tiny red devil.

'Stop it.'

However, he couldn't say the same about his head. Memories he had been trying to wipe from his mind for years served only to haunt him. Taunting him of the gut-wrenching event more than a hundred years ago.

In the silence, pure white hands pushed through the grass and preciously held up the rotten red thing.

'Don't dirty your hands.'

His brother stroked that thing's body so softly with his hands so similar to how he once did with Michael's face. Those strong, beautiful hands that once held his face so tenderly to wipe his tears away. As he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

'Brother...'

"I remain confident in my ability to guide him back to the right path."

His brother's hand was holding Michael’s ray of light. The light in Brother Lucifer’s hand had stopped in front of the disgusting beast's chest, unable to advance further. He was again protecting worthless things that didn't deserve his grace.

'Why did you save it?!'

When his brother finally stood before Michael on his third step, black energy, not white, began to flow from his body.

'No-NononononoNONO-'

From his beloved brother’s head, the gorgeous head of the Morning Star, bright red horns that were the same color as the vile thing that tempted him began to grow.

'Brother- Brother Lucifer please!'

"You shall witness it in due time."

"I love you, my brother. Which is why I will give you one last chance. Return."

Crack!

The force of Michael's left hand left a massive crack in the opulent crystal marble table that trailed down to the other end of it. Effectively bringing clarity back to Raphael as the blonde gazes at Michael's hard knuckle gripping the table painfully, ignoring the blood pooling down to the marble floor and further dirtying the former pristine chamber.

Michael's abrupt actions were met with an air of knowing silence from the two. It wouldn't be far-fetched if they possessed a secret understanding of his motivations that would elude outsiders.

"Hmph," a scoff rang out and pierced the silence of the room, originating from the slender man with platinum blonde hair seated to Michael's right. His face, though classically handsome with a pale complexion, remained stoic and emotionless, belying the arrogance that dripped from the single syllable he uttered.

"Then you better live up to those words."

Gabriel's lean was a graceful movement, his body sinking into the chair as if it were a throne. His arms crossed over his chest, the crisp white of his shirt contrasting sharply with the gleam of the gold chain that adorned his white jabot ruffle shirt. The fabric of his sleeves rustled softly against the delicate filigree, creating a symphony of subtle sounds that echoed through the silent room. His eyes, deep and enigmatic, surveyed the scene before him, his expression a mixture of amusement and quiet contemplation.

"Furthermore, even in his current state, Brother Lucifer still demonstrates a reverence for God. It is conceivable that his actions are merely a symptom of his yearning for God's divine presence."

In this timeless realm, where Gabriel proudly proclaims to reign supreme as the epitome of seraphic obedience, there exists but one for whom he would willingly surrender his esteemed position: Brother Lucifer. The firstborn of God's creations, Brother Lucifer's devotion to his Maker surpassed all others, earning him the title of Morning Star. His brilliance illuminated the heavens, casting an unrivaled radiance that even Gabriel's wings could not obscure.

It was Brother Lucifer who instilled within the celestial choirs the rituals and observances that expressed their gratitude to the Almighty. Yet amidst his unwavering piety, Brother Lucifer adhered to a solitary discipline known only to himself. Only a select few had glimpsed this secret regimen, elusive even to those who had followed his every step for countless eons.

Solitary would not be said without Brother Lucifer's name being attached to the word. He found solace in his own construction of hallowed sanctuaries. These Majestic Temples of Worship at odd places in Heaven served as his solitary refuge, where he could commune with the divine without the distractions of others. His devotion ignited a spark in other angels, who, inspired by his example, crafted Halls of Artistry. They sculpted countless colossal statues of the Almighty, their grandeur exceeding the limits of mortal imagination.

No one dared step one foot into his havens, they were for Brother Lucifer alone, and death would be upon those who broke that unspoken rule.

Yet there were times he allowed Gabriel to join him during Celestial Meditation in the secluded Garden of Eternal Reflection, a sacred sanctuary hidden deep within the heart of Heaven. Here, amidst the fragrant blossoms and tranquil pools, Brother Lucifer let Gabriel join his silent meditation and prayers. It was one of the highlights of Gabriel's day when his brother was still around.

"Not if he is messing with the descendant of Solomon."

Raphael's voice now had the former rage in it that reminded him of what he came here for, to be in these two insufferable presences. He could barely believe it when one of his spies uttered those words out of their useless mouth. That Lucifer? The Morning Star? His brother who despises Solomon as much as any other angel and the one that would bite another head off if they recklessly touched him even in the rendezvous night at the sacred Eternal Flame at the heart of Heaven where they allowed themselves to let loose for a bit?

It sounds fucking unbelievable, but when they show him a picture of that purple-haired vixen bumping parts with his brother, it sends him off the reels. He kills most of the spies and storms out of his favorite dungeon to here.

"Pardon?" Michael's mismatched eyes bulged, his neck creaking and twitching as he stared up at Raphael in a frenzy of incomprehension, his falsely composed display gone. The mere hint of the truth was liable to send the black-haired Seraph into a rampage and murder them all.

"Are you suggesting..." Gabriel's face, previously etched in stoicism, crumbled into a mask of horror. He couldn't believe the words that had escaped Raphael's lips, but he couldn't shake the realization that was slowly creeping upon him. He desperately wished that the words that came out of Raphael's mouth were nothing more than a cruel jest, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

"I said, he's with the descendant of Solomon, that purple-haired harlot...that traitor....that cheat- That tempting trash!"

It pissed Raphael off even more as he raised his voice volume, veins now appearing on his throat, especially at the reminder of his text with that two-timer. The sheer self-satisfied energy radiating off his phone screen almost makes him fly down to Hell to choke that bitch until her brain pops out of her head himself.

"This is preposterous...impossible..." Michael's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with disbelief as Raphael's accusations cut through the air like a madman who had just been cheated on. His normally steady stance faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of hysteria that made his body tremble. He stumbled backward, his back colliding with the cold, unforgiving wall as if seeking solace from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to consume him. The wall provided no comfort, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the turmoil raging through his body.

"I'm not joking. I heard her talking about Lucifer, his scar, his... 'thing'," The mere mention of his beloved brother's private part sends shivers down his spine as his voice quivered. The thought of that conniving bitch taking full advantage of the trust Brother Lucifer had placed in her made his blood boil with simmering rage. And that she dared to go against her promise to him as if those moments they shared in the poisonous sky of Hell meant nothing.

"She knows his exact measurements!- You know what, look at this shit yourself!" With a resounding slam that echoed through the room like a thunderclap, he unveiled the damning evidence: a collection of photographs frozen in time, capturing moments of intimate interaction between Lucifer and the individual in question.

The images fell upon the table with a heavy thud, causing the fragile surface to tremble under the weight of their revelation. Despite the force of impact that threatened to shatter the fragile table beneath them, the pictures remained intact, their unspoken truth radiating from their glossy surfaces like a painful revelation begging to be acknowledged.

Michael's face contorted with a ghastly twitch as if he were attempting to conjure laughter, but the sound that escaped his lips was more akin to a hollow echo in the thick, suffocating atmosphere. "Shut up," his mind struggled to piece together the unthinkable truth that lay sprawled before him like a macabre revelation. Denial, a feeble shield against the onslaught of evidence, crumbled before the weight of reality, leaving him quaking.

"I swear before Thrones of Heavenly Majesty I will make her rue the day she even touched him. She corrupted him and brought him over to the side of temptation. God would never-" As Gabriel's solemn vow echoed through the room, the air crackled with the intensity of his conviction, thick with the gravity of impending retribution for the sinner.

His words struck a nerve, exacerbating Michael's fraying composure. The gravity of the situation bore down upon him like a suffocating weight, his anger bubbling to the surface in fervor.

"FUCKING SHUT UP! IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT REAL!" Michael's voice cracked with anguish and insanity, his outburst sending shockwaves through the chamber. In his distress, the chamber was engulfed in an inferno, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the walls. In the distance, the echo of Michael's despair mingled with the desperate prayers and curses of those trapped within the blazing office. The once-orderly chamber had become a scene of utter chaos and destruction.

"O, Almighty Creator," Gabriel's voice trembled with urgency, his words a fervent entreaty to the absent God above. "Grant us clarity in this hour of darkness, illuminate our path with Your divine light."

Meanwhile, Gabriel's attempts at prayer offered little solace as he grappled with the implications of Raphael's revelations.

His murmurs grew more frantic with each passing moment, a desperate attempt to find solace in the face of unsettling truths. "Guide us through this tempest, O Lord, for we are adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Let Your wisdom be our compass, and Your mercy our salvation."

But despite his fervent appeals, only shrieks and flames answer back, echoing throughout Heaven from the burning chamber they're in.

"She said she'd only do that with me..." Raphael’s voice cracked with bitterness, each word laced with venomous resentment. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the seething anger threatening to consume him whole. "...she lied...she lied..."

The weight of betrayal hung heavy in his heart, suffocating him with its oppressive presence. Raphael's chest heaved with each labored breath, his heart aching with the sting of betrayal. "Fucking cheater..." His words dripped with venom, the bitterness of betrayal poisoning his soul.

With a primal snarl, Raphael's control shattered like glass, shards of rage cutting deep into his consciousness. He lashed out blindly, his teeth sinking into the flesh of a passing stupidly brave angel that came to check on the three Seraphs, the taste of blood a bitter reminder of his own foolishness.

"I hate her..." The words escaped his lips in a guttural growl, each syllable dripping with raw fury. His grip tightened around the angel's trembling form, nails digging into flesh as he sought to vent his pent-up rage on an unwitting victim.

"I'm not sloppy seconds..." Raphael's voice cracked with rage, his crimson eyes ablaze like a firestorm. He tore into the angel's flesh with savage ferocity, his actions a grotesque display of his inner turmoil. "...I'm no side bitch!"

Boom!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Hm?", in the dim recesses of his grandiose office, Lucifer, who was engrossed in his craftsmanship of carving the statue of the divine, lifted his gaze from his artistic endeavor by the sudden but subtle yet discernible disturbance in the island above the sky of Hell.

His pure white eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Despite the plaster and pigments that adorned his once-pristine garments save for his bloody back that had his broken wings. His form radiated a timeless beauty, marred only by the grim expression on his handsome visage.

The sensation he felt was like a creeping up from above, like a ripple in the placid waters of a celestial lake.

'What are those three getting angry at right now?'

Raon, who was perched upon the plush velvet couch that adorned his office, her tall form immersed in the pages of an ancient tome, looked up swiftly at Lucifer's voice, a rare occurrence after hours of silence.

Once she raised her gaze from the text, her curious eyes meeting Lucifer's form with silent inquiry. Normally, she would wait until Lucifer is willing to tell her what is on his mind, but currently, she is bored and needs a break after reading several magic grimoires Lucifer gave her and practicing with them for almost a whole day.

'Let's just hope he will at least give me a short answer.'

"Um, Lucifer, is there something wrong?" Raon's voice, soft and tentative, carried a note of concern as she awaited his response, her gaze fixed unwaveringly upon him.

Lucifer's answer was measured, his words carrying the weight of foreboding. "I feel there's a disturbance. There would be a storm soon," he left out the part that it was most likely his brothers being angry about something again.

"Is it related to the angels?" Yet the young woman still managed to catch onto the hidden message, her question not directed at ordinary angels but at his brothers as she nervously tightened her grip on her grimoire.

Lucifer nodded solemnly. "Very likely," he confirmed. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon but his voice relaxed to ease the lady's tension as he contemplated the unfolding events in the celestial realm.

"Oh, then I will get back to my training-", with a subtle shift of his form, he turned his attention back to Raon, his gaze meeting hers with a serene intensity as he stood up to clean himself with a swipe of his finger. He tidied himself with a cleaning spell and put his tools and statues back into their orderly places without doing so himself physically—a casual display of his magic that Raon wishes to get to one day.

"It's fine," Lucifer assured her, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "Let's take a rest. Care to join me for a walk to the observatory room?" Quietly, he held out his right arm for her to hold on to if she wanted to accompany him.

Raon's heart fluttered at the invitation, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to contain her excitement. "Really? I-I mean, of course! Please lead the way." Her words spilled forth in a rush of eagerness, her eyes shining with anticipation as she rose from her seat and she excitedly but carefully walked over to Lucifer's spot.

As Raon raised her gaze, a silent query lingering in her eyes, she studied the handsome devil's countenance for the slightest hint of unease. Finding none, she shyly reached out and clasped his arm, a silent agreement passing between them. Together, they embarked on a leisurely stroll, the pace unhurried yet purposeful.

Lucifer, typically swift in his movements, slowed his steps to accommodate Raon, pausing whenever she expressed a desire to linger and marvel at the exquisite white blossoms that adorned Paradise Lost, a sight reserved only for the privileged few. The air was filled with a sense of tranquility and reverence as they meandered through the garden, each step bringing them closer to their destination, yet allowing them to savor the beauty that surrounded them. Unbothered by the chaos that is currently exploding in Heaven.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb worldbuilding #whb michael #whb gabriel #whb raphael #whb lucifer #whb mc #minors dni #these 3 are so silly/jk #i will act like the christmas event didn't happen and just let mc girlbossing in another way #let homegirl be magical #lucifer is literally God's first fan boi #guess who these three got there habits from #it would be funny if lucifer was the wild one that contain himself to be a role model to his brothers but it failed anyway #they still love him tho and that is all it matter

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breezey907 · 2 years

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Fic Masterlist

Hunter/Hunted - WTNC, Fem!Hunter/Finn (Completed)

Aria Thorne, a renowned Hunter has been sent to the town of Lunaris to investigate a series of murders. Sounds easy-except it isn't.

There's a Vampire Clan, a Lycan and apparently a Demon in town, not to mention the small cult, which only complicates things. The evidence is slim-to-none and she's somehow the only one qualified to figure the mess out.

On top of that she might be falling in love.

Chimeras, Huh? - WTNC, One-shot, Fem!Hunter/Finn

After everything that has happened, Aria has a normal day for once in Lunaris. Well...as normal as you can get in this weird town.

Oh, Your Love Is Sunlight - WTNC, One-shot, Fem!Hunter/Finn

“Though there are other ways to show how much we mean to each other. Less permanent ways that doesn’t involve you being on the verge of death.”

“Like?”

Everytime The Sun Goes Down - WTNC, One-shot Collection

A One Shot collection of all my cut/alternate scenes for Hunter/Hunted, and also the smut that you were probably looking for.

Two Evils - WTNC, Pledge Route, Fem!Hunter (WIP)

In which Aria takes Harry up on his offer, because she'll do anything to protect those she loves.

Even Chaos Needs A Catalyst - Crimson Spires, Erika/August (Completed)

We’ve lost all contact with the outside world. I still have no idea why the large towers appeared, or whether the rest of world fares any better than we do. People tried to leave, of course.

They all died.

I’m the only law enforcement remaining in town. Lucky Me.

Like Adam & Eve - Crimson Spires, Erika/Liam (Completed)

“I’ll do whatever I can to redeem myself. I’ll prove to the town that I’m their friend, not their enemy. Just give me the chance.”

“You wanted me to lock you up!”

Once More Into The Breach - Crimson Spires, New Game Plus Novelization (WIP)

“I am surprised you feel it, too, Agent. What was your name again?”

“We don’t have time for this. We need to get out of here. If you agree with me, lower your weapon. We’ll form a truce, at least until we’re out of Bataille.”

Don't Bet Against the House - Crimson Spires, Erika/Julian Novelization (WIP)

“How can I trust someone who drinks blood and manipulates the thoughts of his victims?”

“The same way you trust humans who cage chickens and pigs like pets, then slaughter them for dinner."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

A Possible Miscalculation - Detroit: Become Human, One-shot OFC/Connor

Detective Camille Carson made a mistake. Now she's has to deal with the fact that she was to stare at a replica of her friend. It looked just like him, but she knew it wasn’t.

Picking Up Pieces - WKM, OFC/Damien (WIP)

Rowan Spencer has just been made the District Attorney. Life is great. She has a new job, she gets to talk to one of her oldest friends every so often. Then she gets a letter from another old friend. It's a Poker Night Party to celebrate something.

She doesn't even hesitate to go.

Only this night would change everything. For better or worse.

The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To Is The One With You - DMC, OFC/Vergil, One-Shot Collection

"You could have gotten killed!" I pointed out, crossing my arms. Dante opened the door of Devil May Cry and we filed in. "If it weren't for me-"

"-That damn jester would not have escaped." Vergil interrupted, turning around; venom in his pointed words, and the air around him seemed to drop in temperature.

The Wizard & The Watcher - Pillars Of Eternity, Watcher/Aloth, One-Shot Collection

“Not quite how I’d hoped to get to know the neighbors,” He smiled at her. “Thank you for that timely assistance with that…awkward situation.”

She grinned at him. “Don’t mention it.”

Between The Stars - Mass Effect, Shepard/Garrus, One-Shot Collection

A one-shot collection of my Mass Effect writing because that game has a death-grip on me. Focusing mostly on in-between moments and my take on certain scenes.

One Dragon At A Time - Skyrim, Dragonborn/Teldryn Sero, One-shot Collection

A one-shot collection based on my Skyrim gameplay, headcannons and ideas I got while playing.

It's Just Hollywood Nightlife - Red Embrace: Hollywood, Ashe/Markus?

Everyone comes to Hollywood for a reason. Saints, sinners, artists, anti-artists, and all the beautiful people in America. On September 24th, 1996, I became one of those people.

These Bandaged Hands - Touchstarved (Demo) Alchemist Fem MC/Leander

It began with Fogfall; a Spectral mist that bled from the seams where reality wore so thin it split. From that fog emerged monsters, inhuman beings with unnatural powers. Some possessed language and intellect, others were mindless beasts driven by little more than the desire to slaughter. All were dangerous.

As cities fell and unrest spread, humans united in their fear while monsters thrived in the chaos.

Then there was me. I'm not even sure if I'm human. I was born cursed, my hands alter the minds of anyone I touch.

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masterjedilenawrites · 23 days

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List of books below, taken from the Star Wars wiki. Only included: Original Novels, Novel Adaptations, Script Books, and Young Adult Novels. Please no comments about books that are missing from the list... it is what it is.

The High Republic: Convergence - Zoraida Cordova

The High Republic: Path of Deceit - Tessa Gratton, Justina Ireland

The High Republic: The Battle of Jedha - George Mann

The High Republic: Path of Vengeance - Cavan Scott

The High Republic: Cataclysm - Lydia Kang

The High Republic: Into the Dark - Claudia Gray

The High Republic: Light of the Jedi - Charles Soule

The High Republic: The Rising Storm - Cavan Scott

The High Republic: Out of the Shadows - Justina Ireland

The High Republic: Tempest Runner - Cavan Scott

The High Republic: Midnight Horizon - Daniel Jose Older

The High Republic: The Fallen Star - Claudia Gray

The High Republic: The Eye of Darkness - George Mann

The High Republic: Defy the Storm - Tessa Gratton, Justina Ireland

The Vow of Silver Dawn - His Majesty the King

Dooku: Jedi Lost - Cavan Scott

Padawan - Kiersten White

Master & Apprentice - Claudia Gray

The Living Force - John Jackson Miller

Queen's Peril - E.K. Johnston

Queen's Shadow - E.K. Johnston

Inquisitor: Rise of the Red Blade - Delilah S. Dawson

Queen's Hope - E.K. Johnston

Brotherhood - Mike Chen

Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno

Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising - Timothy Zahn

Dark Disciple - Christie Golden

Thrawn Ascendancy: Greater Good - Timothy Zahn

Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil - Timothy Zahn

Ahsoka - E.K. Johnston

Thrawn - Timothy Zahn

Lords of the Sith - Paul S. Kemp

Tarkin - James Luceno

Most Wanted - Rae Carson

Solo: A Star Wars Story: Expanded Edition - Mur Lafferty

Rebel Rising - Beth Revis

Crimson Climb - E.K. Johnston

A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller

Jedi: Battle Scars - Sam Maggs

Lost Stars - Claudia Gray

Leia, Princess of Alderaan - Claudia Gray

Thrawn: Alliances - Timothy Zahn

Thrawn: Treason - Timothy Zahn

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story - Alexander Freed

Battlefront II: Inferno Squad - Christie Golden

Heir to the Jedi - Kevin Hearne

Doctor Aphra - Sarah Kuhn

Battlefront: Twilight Company - Alexander Freed

The Princess and the Scoundrel - Beth Revis

Alphabet Squadron - Alexander Freed

Aftermath - Chuck Wendig

Shadow Fall - Alexander Freed

Aftermath: Life Debt - Chuck Wendig

Victory's Price - Alexander Freed

Aftermath: Empire's End - Chuck Wendig

Last Shot - Daniel Jose Older

Poe Dameron: Free Fall - Alex Segura

Shadow of the Sith - Adam Christopher

Bloodline - Claudia Gray

Force Collector - Kevin Scinick

Phasma - Delilah S. Dawson

Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Alan Dean Foster

Galaxy's Edge: Black Spire - Delilah S. Dawson

Star Wars: The Last Jedi: Expanded Edition - Jason Fry

Resistance Reborn - Rebecca Roanhorse

A Crash of Fate - Zoraida Cordova

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker: Expanded Edition - Rae Carson

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astralnymphh · 6 months

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hear me out. vamp!ellie who bends her knee to a kneel at your feet, as you abide a cushiony seat denting in your weight, her icy fingertips running up the curve of your calf until her palm meets the thickest point of it and halts, supporting your leg. laying your foot on her thigh, she tucks fingers of the opposing hands a fingerbreadth beneath the hem of your sock, dragging the cotton a demure trace downwards just enough to expose the knob of your ankle, creaking a content smirk to one corner of her lips, becking her head low and swathing her open gob over the bump. then, a sharp sting in pinpoint areas strikes up your leg, right as her incisors sink and bottom fully in the flesh. you wince, merely a tad, because you are used to this. a tender taking of blood, be it your neck, thigh, waist, or collarbone, you dwell in its painful pleasure, always.

"ah–" the mere wince pitches, lush of breath.

you feel her neck bob against the top of your toes and a tickle fiddles with your staccato heart at that paltry feeling– of her drinking threads of your blood. she made you throb, in vulnerable passions.

the sting dies, and all that's left in the wake of delirious pain is the press of mildly chapped, silken skin buds. a vampiric kiss of wintery haze. sated of your bittersweet taste, she draws her fangs back in, the smoothness of those pearls rubbing inside the fresh wound before prying off– web of saliva tethered to the ruddy tinting.

she reels back only slightly, folding her coral tongue over the plush of her lip to rend any strings of spit broken and swept inside her mouth. a gulp bobs her throat once more, tilting her head to gauge your resulting expression, tugging a dimpled grin at how keen your eyes poured. poured of a dizzying gaze through drooping lids, sedated of her suckling. as usual. tousled fawn auburn bangs, well frizzy and perking up in awkward spires– a bedheaded mullet.

a sweetening rasp of, "fallin' asleep on me already? huh– m'not even done babe~" thrumms ardent to your ankle, breath enveloping the throbbing skin, dripping crimson at the tiny pinholes she left.

"your fault– mhh," words snag in your gullet, hacking nothing but a hum up, "not mine." the burden of your head seated upon your shoulders felt heftier than seconds prior, swaying side to side like a nearly whitecapping boat.

a chuckle she gives, fuck, an irksome chuckle at your expense.

that's ellie for you.

her beady pupils bluster at the sight of red wisping in her peripherals. shame on her, reckless is her lost soul, for allowing such an emblem of her esteemed delicacy to run like a river on your foot. she flattens the biome of her tongue on the wound, craning her head to an angle as she laps up the blood, staining the skin with a more orangey residue. salt to buds, it settles in her mouth, thinning out her pupils in its hellish–ly titillating flavor, the true flavor of you.

a savored swallow is heard.

and then a hark of her husk.

"just once more, baby– need you inside of me~"

blahh i wanna write vamp ellie saur bad!!!

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #vampire!ellie #vamp!ellie #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams concept #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble

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tainbocuailnge · 1 month

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knowing all we do now about the witch king and leithanien's history i keep laughing about how like half the shit that happened to phantom and shalem isn't even necessarily a crimson troupe thing it's because mouthpiece specifically is a former leithanien spire caster who betrayed the witch king to pursue his own personal obsessions with the troupe and got a little too full of himself thinking he could start cooking up his own plays without playwright's approval. leithanien casters are simply like this obviously this was going to happen. and ending 4 strongly implies the reason the troupe called phantom and shalem back is because playwright wanted to use them to get rid of that fucking cunt mouthpiece and his shitty puppets (which he started using in place of living actors because nobody in the troupe liked him or wanted to put on his performances). all these characters in zwillingstürme going through this extremely specific shit dealing with the witch king's legacy and the ways their lives were carefully planned out to match a single man's impossibly large shadow meanwhile an arbitrary amount of time before or after this roughly one country over this nightmare theater troupe is putting on a crude derivative copy of it all and shalem ends up with like the goncharov knockoff of ebenholz' backstory. and all the event characters are getting to resolve their personal histories somehow and make a stand for what they personally believe in and defy the fate written for them by another's desires meanwhile shalem is in his oprec off to the side having his daily psychotic spiral and not coping with a goddamn thing.

#arklance

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leiawritesstories · 2 months

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queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #answered prompt #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #throne of glass #queen of shadows #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin #awlin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #canon au #post canon au #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin babies

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whocaresimnothere · 3 months

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Echoes of Obsession: Yandere Alastor x Reader

The air in Hell was heavy with the scent of sulphur and decay as you made your way through the labyrinthine streets, the shadows of twisted spires casting ominous silhouettes against the blood-red sky. Despite the oppressive atmosphere, you carried yourself with a sense of purpose, your steps echoing against the cobblestone pavement.

It was on one such night, amidst the flickering glow of dimly lit lanterns, that you caught the attention of Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. Clad in his signature pinstripe suit and adorned with a devilish grin, he emerged from the darkness like a phantom, his crimson eyes ablaze with curiosity.

"Ah, what have we here?" Alastor's voice cut through the night like a razor, his words dripping with charm and intrigue. "A lost soul wandering the streets of my domain. How delightful."

You regarded him with a mixture of caution and fascination, drawn to the enigmatic aura that surrounded him like a shroud. Despite the warnings whispered in the dark corners of Hell, you couldn't deny the allure of Alastor's presence, the promise of adventure and danger beckoning like a siren's call.

"Forgive me if I seem forward, my dear," Alastor continued, his grin widening into a predatory smile. "But I simply couldn't resist the opportunity to make your acquaintance. After all, a soul as captivating as yours is a rare find indeed."

Despite the warning bells ringing in the back of your mind, you found yourself unable to resist Alastor's charm, his words weaving a seductive spell around you. With a hesitant smile, you accepted his offer of companionship, unaware of the dark path that lay ahead.

Little did you know, your fateful encounter with Alastor was only the beginning of a twisted courtship that would plunge you into the depths of obsession and despair, where the shadows of Hell would close in around you like a suffocating embrace.

*********************************************************************************************************

As days turned into nights and nights into a seemingly endless cycle of darkness, your interactions with Alastor grew more frequent, his presence becoming an ever-present shadow in your life. At first, his attentions were flattering, his words honeyed and his gestures seemingly innocent. But beneath the surface, a darkness lurked—a darkness that threatened to consume you whole.

"You're quite the fascinating soul, my dear," Alastor would murmur, his voice dripping with honeyed charm as he gazed at you with a predatory gleam in his crimson eyes. "There's something about you that simply captivates me."

Despite the warning bells ringing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the allure of Alastor's presence. His charisma was undeniable, his charm a potent elixir that left you intoxicated and craving more.

But as Alastor's behavior grew more erratic and possessive, a creeping sense of unease began to gnaw at your insides. His once-charming demeanor gave way to bouts of jealousy and rage, his affections bordering on the edge of madness.

"You belong to me, and me alone," Alastor would declare, his voice laced with a dangerous edge as he watched you with possessive eyes. "No one else can have you. No one else will ever have you."

At first, you attempted to brush aside your growing unease, chalking it up to the peculiarities of Hell's denizens. But as Alastor's manipulation grew more insidious, you couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of dread worm its way into your heart.

The shadows whispered secrets of Alastor's true nature, warning you of the danger that lurked beneath his charming facade. But try as you might to resist, you found yourself drawn deeper into his orbit, unable to break free from the gravitational pull of his obsession.

"It's for your own good, my dear," Alastor would soothe, his voice like silk as he reached out to caress your cheek with a gloved hand. "I only want what's best for you. Can't you see that?"

His words were like a siren's song, luring you deeper into the abyss with promises of love and protection. But deep down, you knew that Alastor's affections were anything but pure—that his love was a twisted reflection of obsession and possession.

It wasn't long before Alastor's possessiveness turned into outright manipulation, his every word and action designed to keep you tethered to him like a puppet on a string. You found yourself trapped in a twisted dance of desire and deceit, your own emotions playing against you as you struggled to untangle yourself from Alastor's suffocating grasp.

Yet amidst the chaos and despair of Hell, a glimmer of hope remained—a flickering flame of defiance burning bright in the darkness. With each passing day, you resolved to break free from Alastor's clutches, to defy the shadows that threatened to consume you whole and reclaim your autonomy in a world ruled by madness and obsession.

*********************************************************************************************************

In the depths of Hell, where shadows twisted and whispered secrets of madness, you found yourself ensnared in a deadly dance of deception with Alastor, the Radio Demon whose obsession knew no bounds.

As the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into an eternity of darkness, you struggled to maintain a facade of compliance while plotting your escape from Alastor's suffocating grasp. Every smile, every touch, every whispered endearment was a lie—a carefully crafted illusion designed to keep you tethered to him, to feed his insatiable hunger for control.

But beneath the mask of obedience, a fire burned bright—a flame of defiance that refused to be extinguished. With each passing moment, you honed your cunning, biding your time until the opportunity presented itself to break free from Alastor's clutches and reclaim your freedom.

Yet amidst the chaos and despair of Hell, Alastor's hold on you only seemed to tighten, his manipulation growing more insidious with each passing day. His words were like poison, seeping into your mind and clouding your judgment as he whispered sweet promises of love and protection.

"You're mine, my dear," Alastor would murmur, his voice a seductive melody that echoed in the recesses of your mind. "Forever and always. There's no escaping me."

But you refused to be caged like a bird, your spirit burning bright with the fires of rebellion. With each passing day, you plotted and schemed, laying the groundwork for your eventual escape from Alastor's clutches.

And then, one fateful night, as the shadows danced and the echoes of madness filled the air, the opportunity presented itself—a fleeting moment of weakness in Alastor's carefully constructed facade.

With a heart pounding with adrenaline and determination, you seized the chance, slipping away into the darkness like a phantom in the night. Behind you, you could hear Alastor's enraged screams, his promises of vengeance echoing in the empty corridors of Hell.

But you paid them no mind, for you were free—free from the chains of obsession and manipulation, free to forge your own path amidst the chaos and despair of Hell's eternal night.

As you disappeared into the shadows, a sense of liberation washed over you—a feeling of triumph amidst the darkness, as you vowed to never again be ensnared in the deadly dance of deception with Alastor, the Radio Demon whose obsession knew no bounds.

"You cannot escape me, my dear," Alastor's voice echoed in the darkness, a chilling reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. "I will find you, no matter where you hide. And when I do, there will be no mercy."

But you paid his threats no heed, for you knew that you were stronger than the darkness that sought to consume you—that no matter what horrors awaited you in the depths of Hell, you would face them head-on, armed with nothing but your courage and the knowledge that you had escaped the clutches of a yandere's obsession.

*********************************************************************************************************

In the wake of your daring escape from Alastor's clutches, the air in Hell crackled with tension and anticipation. Every shadow seemed to whisper his name, every echo carried the echo of his rage as he searched for you with a relentless determination.

But you were not afraid, for you had faced the darkness head-on and emerged victorious. With each passing moment, your resolve grew stronger, fueled by the fire of defiance that burned bright within your heart.

And then, one fateful night, as the echoes of madness filled the air and the shadows danced in the flickering light of torches, you came face to face with Alastor once more.

There he stood, his crimson eyes ablaze with fury, his form wreathed in the darkness of his own making. But despite his formidable presence, you did not falter, for you knew that you had already won the battle for your freedom.

"You thought you could escape me, my dear," Alastor's voice echoed in the darkness, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. "But you were wrong. You belong to me, body and soul. And I will not rest until you are mine once more."

And with that, your world went black.

#alastor x reader #yander alastor x reader #x reader #yandere #hazbin hotel #radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

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