#New question is if we can get me to post the phantom au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starry-bi-sky · 5 months

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I am procrastinating homework and finals studying so I'm making another DPxDC au -- or more accurately, I am making an au of an au. or combining two aus to make a third one, because I am Procastinating And thinking about it.

(the part two for my Danny is Jason Todd au is like,,, half-made and I will get around to finishing it, promiiissse)

So the two aus I had in mind were combining, of course, the two clone aus - the Danny Clone and the Damian Clone au. For folks who haven't seen either posts (or saw one but not the other) here are summaries of both:

Damian Clone Au: The LoA make a clone of Damian Wayne specifically to either kill Damian Wayne and have the clone take his place as the heir to the LoA, or to bring him back. At 6 years old though and through magical teleportation mishaps, Baby Damian ends up in the warehouse district of Amity Park and picked up (and later adopted) by Danny Fenton. They develop a brotherly dynamic with one another.

Danny Clone Au: Danny is straight up a clone of Bruce Wayne, doesn't find out until a year after he has his accident. And, for the fun of it, is also mostly-powerless (he retains his ghost sense and a semblance of a ghost core and signature, but no ghost form). His reasoning for becoming Phantom is because he has walked into the lab watching his parents dissecting ghosts post-portal working more times than he can count. And due to this, changes his beliefs from "ghosts are evil" to "ghosts are sentient and sapient beings who don't deserve this treatment". (masterpost pinned on my blog, its currently incomplete) He is also a little GNC, as a treat. Long-haired Danny ftw. Ellie is a halfa because of the ectoplasm that Vlad used, and also the same age as Danny. They call each other twins and she is viciously protective of him. He uses a baseball bat and brass knuckles that I call 'jawbreakers' to fight ghosts.

Now admittedly, not much probably changes with the combination of these aus other than the potential parallels between Damian and Danny, and Bruce and Damian - and of course, I am always a sucker for parallels. Plus Damian's running off would take Danny finding him much longer, since he can no longer fly, but all the more meaningful because he still took so much time to find him.

(It probably also makes their first meeting different as well - Danny wears a ROTTMNT Casey Jones Jr. esq. mask when he goes out, but Damian would recognize lazarus green anywhere. He'd probably try harder to kill him though once he sees his face, since he knows that its not his father but an imposter.)

It also includes what I consider a hilarious conversation: "Since I'm a clone of Bruce Wayne, does this make me your dad or your brother?" "Don't be an idiot, laeazir." "You didn't answer my question."

The biggest change that comes from this is, of course, the fact that Danny now no longer has a leg to stand on with the "you're a human, I am a ghost" excuse in order to prevent Damian to help him with ghost-fighting, because now Danny is also a squishy, fleshy and fragile human just like Damian. And a human who, arguably, has less combat training than Damian and no powers to make up for it.

Now, Danny in both aus are about 16-17-ish in age, so they've had time to adapt to their new vigilante-hero lifestyle, but its still not the same as Damian's training as an assassin. Damian, unlike in the original clone au, remains insistent on his want to help Danny.

And,,, eventually wears him down after weeks or months of sneaking out after him, helping in fights, interfering, arguing, etc. Danny eventually agrees, exhausted, but he makes Damian promise, promise, that he will be careful and to focus on dodging and distraction. At least until Danny can figure out a safer alternative. He wants him as far removed from the fight as he can, he's a child for ancient's sake, after all.

Which is another issue too - if we follow Damian Clone timeline, then Damian is six years old when this happens. I'll be point blank, I do not see Danny ever actually agreeing to let a literal 6 year old go with him. SO, solution, I bump Damian's age to 7 when he arrives in the Fenton Family, and make him freshly eight years old when he finally gets Danny to agree.

It still SUCKS. He is still very much an itty bitty child, but as someone who has seen the difference between a six year old and an eight year old due to working at a daycare, an eight year old is still... slightly feasible. And an 8 year old assassin even more so (even if he hasn't trained properly in nearly a year or so)

So Danny, reluctantly, agrees to let Damian come with him on patrols.

He ghost-proofs Damian's sword (as he has since learned to do with his bat and jawbreakers), makes him a grappling hook and a Fenton thermos, and reluctantly lets Damian come with in his old LoA uniform that he appeared in (with some tailoring and ghost-proofing, because he has since begun to grow out of the uniform).

(and Danny himself also finally starts looking into alternatives to improve his own "suit" - which is all but a hoodie and reinforced jeans and a hockey mask. He needs to set an example to his little brother, goddammit.)

Then, as they're planning for Damian's eventual (dreaded on Danny's part) debut, they sit in their shared room and brainstorm for what to call Damian. "Ellie already uses the name Spirit." Danny says, sitting criss-cross at his desk with the eraser nub of a pencil chewed between his teeth.

(Behind him he has an investigative corkboard set up -- his accident left him with the ability to see ghosts not capable of being seen on the visible plane. 'Stereotypical' ghosts. Between school work, his social life, and ghost fighting, some of his downtime is spent figuring out ways to help them move on. His most recent is a cold case.)

(Bc with Danny, I loove to have him have some sort of trait that ties him in with his original counterpart. Nature vs Nurture and all that. Investigative work can be part of that.)

"What about Wraith?" Damian suggests from the floor, leaning against the bed frame while he goes over one of his english books. They've been practicing his reading and writing.

Danny furrows his brows. "A ghost seen typically shortly after or before someone's death?"

Damian nods. "Yes, it's of a similar cadence to 'Batman and Robin'."

"What's with you and your thing with Batman and Robin?" Danny asks with a playful half-smile, Damian shrugs and looks at his books. Danny sticks the eraser back between his incisors. "Phantom and Wraith... that works, though."

The first night out together, Danny fusses over Damian, making sure every bit of uniform was secured and in place -- something Damian took mild offense over. His outfit was far more reinforced than the juvenile get-up that his older brother wore.

But he let him fuss anyways. It made him loved.

"Now remember, Wraith--"

Damian interrupts him: "Yes, I know, Dany. Avoid and distract. Stay situationally aware. I fear that is something I should be telling you, however. Mother would have your head if she ever saw what your training was like."

(It was, not for the first time, that Damian wondered how his,,, "mother",,, would react if she ever met Danyal. Not good, he knows.)

Danny's shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I believe that, what with that super-secret spy--"

"Assassin."

Danny sends him a half-hearted chagrined look, "Assassin," he corrects, "organization that made you. I'm sure I'd give your mother an aneurysm." When he's finally okay with whatever make-believe issues he found with his suit, Danny reaches for the nearby side table and carefully slips on a black domino mask over Damian's eyes. It was thin, flexible, and made with some kind of material that Danny reassured was environmentally safe.

("Some kind of matieral that Wayne Industries invented awhile ago, Sam bought it for me." Danny told him when he first showed it to him.)

It was also cold. But the chill was made up for, slightly, with Danny's warmer hands smoothing it out over his skin, and ridding of any ridges that could form. Damian isn't sure entirely what Danyal did to keep it stuck onto his face, but when he touches it with his fingers he feels a very faint seam at the edge, and it doesn't budge against his hands. It felt like a second skin.

"There we go." Danny smiles, pulling his hands back. He still looks nervous. "It's not the same as my hockey mask," which sat atop his head, ready to be pulled down, "but I think a domino mask will work better for you considering your background."

He was right, a hockey mask would only hurt Damian's peripheral vision. This mask was thin enough that it didn't.

"Ready to go, Wraith?"

"After you, Phantom."

+++

Damian has much issue with Danny's suit. He can think of a million ways to make it better. It is one of the things he and Samantha Manson can get along with, and the few times they have spent time together they have brainstormed suit ideas. He knows that since Danny took him on as Wraith, he has started to look into better suit alternatives.

However. They are both aware of the same thing:

Danny is not Batman, nor Superman, nor Wonder Woman, nor Aquaman, or the Flash, or Green Arrow, or Nightwing, or any single hero on the public roster. He is also not rich like Lex Luthor or Vlad Masters or Bruce Wayne himself.

He has no money and no contacts, and thus, no way of properly improving his suit to be something even half as safe as the other supers.

And he refuses to let Samantha Manson help him find a way to fix that - even with all that money, Samantha Manson is on an allowance from her parents, and also, despite her other range of abilities, not capable of getting those materials without putting herself on a list of some sort. They are at a standstill.

Damian knows this, because he has asked.

Until one day when Danny is talking about a case he is working on and telling Damian about old adventures he had in the Ghost Zone, does he see his brother get hit with a lightbulb.

He slaps a hand against his forehead and straightens up from his swivel seat. He huffs a laugh, "Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And he turns on his heel and hurries to his bookshelf, pulling down a notebook and flipping open to an empty page.

Damian frowns, "Laeazir?"

"I know you don't like my suit, Damian," Danny says, striding over to his desk and snatching a pencil out of a cup. He begins jotting something down on the notebook. "And there's nothing I can really do about it because, well, I'm poor in comparison to my facesake, and I don't have the resources to get my hands on someone who would make me a new suit."

"Yes, we have talked about this..." Damian nods slowly, still frowning, and trying to follow his brother's line of reasoning.

Danny shoots him a megawatt, half-tilt smile, his hair tied up into a half-bun. "But! I was thinking about it from the wrong angle. I don't have the living resources to help me get a suit, but..." he trails off, staring at Damian intently.

It dinged in Damian's brain to where he was going, "But you have the undead resources instead." He says, his eyes widening slowly. Of course, of course! Danyal was ridiculously charismatic by accident, and Damian has seen plenty of times where his heart-of-gold had one or two non-hostile ghosts be incredibly grateful to him.

His brother makes a loud, 'ding-ding-ding!' sound, pointing his pencil at Damian as his smile stretches further across his face. In a few quick strides, he was sat down next to Damian and showing him his notebook. "Correct! When I first started out as Phantom a few years ago, I managed to help a ghost who called herself Taylor, and apparently she was a seamstress both in and out of life."

Damian watches as Danny writes the name at the top of the paper, and creates bullet-points down the page. "She said that in return for saving her, I should come find her in the Ghost Zone if I ever need clothes made for me. It's a one-time thing, but I was thinking that she could perhaps help make me a new suit."

Danny turns a bit pink at the ears, and rubs his neck, "I never thought much of it because I didn't think I'd ever go into the Ghost Zone, or ever need ghost clothes, so I forgot about it up until now."

A scoff forces itself out of Damian's mouth, but he is smiling. "Danyal, you are the smartest idiot I have ever met."

For the next hour, both he and Danny make a bullet point list of what both of their suits would need. Reinforcement in certain areas, gauntlets with reinforced knuckles to replace Danyal's jawbreakers. A different weapon than a bat.... a utility belt, reinforced boots. Anything they could think of.

It was Damian's idea to add a cloak to both of their suits, asymmetrical and torn at the edges for a more 'ghostly' look. They have a theme, after all. It's quite fun.

Then Danyal calls up Sam for help in drafting up design ideas. And while Danyal steps mostly to the side when it comes to the design itself, Damian and Sam fill pages with designs until coming up with one they both agreed on and like.

"What about a lightning bolt on the chest?" "Why are we using my traumatic accident as a symbol of my identity?" "Ghosts do it all the time, Danny. Ember sings about her death." "I'm not dead?" "No that won't work, Manson. Shazam already has a giant lighting bolt emblem." "Okay, but I still want to use it somewhere." "How about this?" "...That could work. Okay, now onto your emblem--"

Last was the hard part: getting into the Ghost Zone without the Fenton parents noticing the disappearance of their precious Fenton Specter Speeder. They employed Jazz's help with that. She would get the Fentons out of the house long enough for him and Danny to get into the ghost zone, hopefully find the seamstress, and cash in that favor.

They went through with their plan that following weekend. Danny tossed Damian a small jumpsuit as they both climbed into the specter speeder, but did not grab his own. He had a small duffle bag on him that he threw under the seat.

"What is this?" Damian asks, nose scrunching up at the gaudy picture of Jack Fenton's face square at the center of the chest. He held it far away from it, as if it had a disease.

"Your hazmat suit." Danny replies, settling himself into the driver's seat as the door hissed shut and he began turning it on. He had some sort of gas mask on in his lap, too small to fit Danny's head, but certainly the right size to fit Damian's. "Normally you wouldn't need it since you'd stay in the speeder, but we're both getting out once we find Taylor. It's to protect you from the ectoplasm."

A scowl forces itself across Damian's face, "You don't have one." He points out, finding seat in the passenger chair next to Danny. His arms cross over his chest, and he was not pouting.

Danny looks at him amusedly, "I have enough ectoplasm in my body that I don't need one, you however, do not." He retorts, poking a finger into Damian's ribcage pointedly. "If you don't put it on now, you'll put it on when we find Taylor."

Damian's scowl deepens, feeling petulant as he sunk into his chair. Danny turns back to the console and flips a few more switches. "I will not, it looks ridiculous." He turns it around to show Danny the Jack Fenton Face.

The Specter Speeder hums to life, and there's a moment of turbulence as it lifts off the ground. While it does, Danny turns back to him blankly, stares at the emblem, and then reaches forward and yanks it off with a scriiiiich of the emblem. He crumples it up with one hand, and throws it into a small bin at his feet.

"There, fixed." He smiles. Then turns back to the controls, taking the yoke with both hands. "And I'm calling Dad Rights; you will put it on when we find Taylor or you'll stay in the speeder."

Damian sputters, sitting up incredulously. "You are not my father." He argues.

"Teeechnically, I am." Danny says, "I'm a clone of your father, and since I am fully his clone, that makes you my son by a technicality." He says cheerfully, pushing the specter speeder forward and into the swirling green portal.

Before Damian can retort, they're passing through the portal. This was his first time going into the Ghost Zone, and for a few seconds there was nothing but bright, swirling green filling his vision. His body felt like it was being twisted and pulled, his up and down reversing and returning. It was painless, but dizzying.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like a minute, and when they exit out the other side, Damian is holding his head while his vision spots and swims. Internally, he felt like those cartoon characters when their eyeballs rolled around in their head.

The dizziness fades away slowly, and as Damian regains his sight, he notices Danny's hand splayed over his sternum, gently keeping him pressed against his seat. It fell away when Danny saw that he was alright.

"Put your seatbelt on," Danny orders, nodding to his chair. Damian listens absently, before remembering their conversation before they went through the portal.

"That is not how it works." He scowls, and, annoyingly, only gets a challenged eyebrow raise from Danny. He could see the words written on his face without Danyal ever having to say it.

Because, dangit, he was technically right. Damian refuses to say this aloud. He screws his jaw shut, and crosses his arms back across his chest.

Danny chuckles under his breath, and turns his eyes back to the ghost zone. "My point still stands, either you wear the suit, or you don't leave the speeder."

"Fine."

+++

They eventually find where the seamstress is. Through quite a lot of Danny stopping to ask questions with any friendly ghost he came across, they eventually locate an island with a strange, urban city bustling with life on it. Massive, rocky stalagmites grew from the ground, and buildings were built on top of it or around it, with strange, warping architecture.

It was oddly beautiful.

Danny parked the speeder on the side of the street with a two hour parking sign on a nearby post. As he turned off the engine, he flipped a switch on the console that darkened the windows. He unbuckles his seat, and stood up, stretching out his back with a deep groan.

"Alright, put your suit on. The windows are tinted, so nobody should be able to see into the speeder." He orders, pulling out the duffle he brought in earlier and unzipping it. He pulls out his hockey mask and the hoodie he wore out for patrol, and the notebook they'd been using to jot down ideas for their suit.

Danny even had the hindsight to write in their respective heights, and with Tucker's help, some of their measurements. While he did that, Damian sourly pulled on his hazmat suit, irritated by the need to wear it.

Unfortunately, he also had to wear the boots and gloves for 'extra precaution'. Damian nearly bites out a grumpy 'you're as paranoid as father', but holds his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Danyal that secret.

Once he was done and Danny has his hockey mask and hoodie on, Danny grabs the gas mask and helps fit it over Damian's face. It was a sleek, simple design, shaped similarly to a regular face mask, with little filters on both sides of the mouth and a clear, protective covering around the eyes and forehead. Danyal improved it from the original his parents made.

He was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

Danny checks, then double checks that it the mask is tight, then smiles. Patting Damian's shoulders before standing up fully. "Taylor's shop should be somewhere nearby." He says, grabbing the notebook and tucking it under his arm.

Damian nods, and follows him out the door and onto the busy streets.

Finding Taylor becomes remarkably quick now that they were inside her city - something that Damian silently wondered was based loosely off NYC. Danny kept a firm arm around Damian's shoulders the entire time they walked down the street, keeping the both of them on the inside sidewalk.

Barely anyone passed them a second glance, spare the few odd looks shot at Damian. Danny whispers to him the first time it happens that it's because he has no ghost core, those more attune to their signatures might've been picking up on it.

They didn't notice Danny, because he had one, albeit a weak one.

Taylor's shop has a big sign on it in logographic writing that Damian has no idea how to read. The text shifts slowly, a jambled squiggle of lines, dots, and connected curves that look like a mix of messy cursive, gibberish, and logographic alphabets. He only knows its Taylor's shop because Danny pulls them towards it, stating that it was the place.

"You can read that?" He asks, incredulous as they draw closer to the door. Danny moves his arm off his shoulder, and wraps his fingers around Damian's instead.

"Yep," He replies, then scrunches his nose up, "sort of. It's - uh--" he stumbles over a word that Damian's ears cannot comprehend, but fills his head with slight static regardless. Danny winces. "It's the written form of ghostspeak, but since I'm not a ghost, I can only read some of it. Like uh, dyslexia."

"...I see." Damian says after a moment of silence, trying to replay the word in his head. His mind can't grasp the sound.

When they enter, the door doesn't ding with the sound of a bell, but rather it makes a low scream. Nobody bats an eye to the sound, keeping to their slow search through the racks of clothes.

At the counter was a woman talking quietly to another woman, one of whom Danny recognizes, as he walks over to her.

He doesn't need to say anything, because the woman behind the counter sees him coming, and her face positively lights up with delight. "Phantom!" She cries, and gestures to come over. "I was wondering when in the high ancients you were going to come see me!"

Danny's face is obscured by his mask, but Damian knows he's smiling sheepishly with the way he tilts his head and the way he tenses his shoulders. "My bad, Miss Taylor," he says, reaching the counter and standing beside the woman she was talking to, "It kinda... slipped my mind."

Taylor waves her hand dismissively, "Well you are here now!" She replies, grinning wide. Then her eyes pop open - literally - and she puts a hand over her chest. "Oh, how rude of me!" She turns and gestures between Phantom and the lady next to him, "Miss Mabam, this is Phantom. I told you about him a couple of years ago. He saved me from humans. Phantom, this is Gigi Mabam, she funds my shop. In return I make clothes for her and her staff."

The 'Gigi' woman turns just as Danny does, and smiles wide at him. Damian narrows his eyes at her, shuffling behind Danny legs as he looked her up and down. She had silvery-white hair and purple skin, and wore a darker purple business suit, a red gem cravat at her collar, and teal cat-eye glasses.

There was a lot of purple.

"So this is the ghost-touched you were telling me about, dear!" The woman, Mabam, said. Her voice was rich and low but she spoke in a whimsical cadence. It made Damian's skin crawl, and his narrowed eyes turned into a glare. "I must thank you for saving my seamstress, it would've been quite a fizzy-wink if she had been lost to those ghosty hunters."

What were those nonsense words? Damian hated it.

"Miss Mabam here runs a five-star hotel nearby," Taylor explains, her body turned to Danny, "she also is in charge of the city's Battle Nexus."

Danny is silent for a moment, and his free hand lifts and places itself on the back of Damian's head, keeping him close. "Battle Nexus...?"

Mabam claps cheerfully, laughing low, "Oh yes! Ghosts from all around the zone come to attend and watch as their fellow haunties are ripped from limbity-limb in a blood-curdling battle!"

Danny is still as stone. "I see." He says, careful. Damian wraps his fingers around his pant leg. "Well, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I was hoping to cash in that favor, Miss Taylor?"

"Of course! What do you need?"

Danny looks down at Damian, and he looks up at him, locking eyes with the ominous green glowing from the eyeslits of his mask. He nods, and Danny looks back up. "Do you know how to make suits? Of the protective kind?"

+++

The seamstress it turns out, is capable of such a thing. And she ushers the both of them into one of the backrooms, sending off Mabam with a farewell and a promise to continue their conversation soon.

She flips through their design book, and immediately gets to work making their suits. In the end, with the help of her powers, she gets both done over the span of four hours. It's longer than both Danny and Damian want, but neither rush her.

Damian just hopes that Jasmine can keep the Fenton parents distracted for that long. She will have to.

The suits are better in real life than on paper, and Damian preens from the side in his own custom suit as Danny examines his own in front of the three mirrors. They were both dressed in all black, but whatever fabric Taylor used was of a blackest-black, turning Danyal - and Damian's - bodies into a black hole to look at. Both of them were fitted for agility, with reinforced padding around their shoulders and chests, as well as around the joints of their legs. Their boots were reinforced as well.

("It was hard to make your boots shock absorbent," Taylor explains, "since we all fly, but I applied similar stuff to what I did with your shoulders and chestplate.")

On the side of Danyal's legs were raised, black, lichtenberg-like figures that were contained to the seams and disappeared under his boots. There were similar designs going up his sleeves, with spiked gauntlets wrapped around his lower arm and hands. The knuckles were reinforced, just like he wanted.

Damian's favorite parts were their capes, however. Black like the rest of the outfit, but "wrapped" around their shoulders like an apocalyptic shawl with a back that went down to their knees, and at the hems the capes were torn and ripped like a wraith. Danyal's mask had gone through very little change. It was made of a stronger material, and Taylor had gone and made it more skull-like in its shape, with three large grills at the front, and the sides curving inward below the 'cheekbones' of the skull to better fit his face. It was still shock white, the only white part of Danyal's entire costume.

Damian's suit was almost identical. However, rather than having the seams of his suit resemble lichtenberg figures, the seams of his sleeves and upper torso were that of a black skeleton, with bone-y designs over his gauntlets and the fingers an ombre of dark red-to-black. And around his torso were raised lines that looked similar to a ribcage. The edge of his cloak was splatter a dark red as well. And he had a new domino mask that looked similar to the upper half of Danyal's mask, with the outer edges curved downward over his cheekbones. He was briefly allowed to take off the upper part of his gas mask to try on the mask.

The best part however, was that since the suits were made of material native to the ghost zone, they could also be taken off quickly and hidden in a small artifact. It was magic, is what it was. Danyal chose earrings, and Damian chose a ring.

When they got back to the Fenton house, Jazz demands a box of chocolate for her hard work. Damian thinks that's only fair as Danny takes them both out to get candy for Jazz.

+++

But other than vigilante stuff, not else much changes. Danny gets to pull a "Dad By Technicality Rule" card over Damian when he's being a brat. Danny doesn't have his run in with Rift (a ghost who portals him into Gotham) until after he meets Damian/lets Damian join him on patrol and when they get new suits.

My reason? Because I want it to happen after that point in time lol. It also makes the eventual "heyyyyy you have a clone" @ bruce much funnier to me because not only does he have a clone of HIMSELF but also THAT clone has a clone of Damian living with him.

Also when Danny destabilizes for the first time Damian is terrified for his safety. The fentons are surprisingly good at cloning, Danny hasn't had any issues up until this point in time, and that's only because he got hit with a new gun from Skulker that messed up the ectoplasm he had in his dna, which in term fucked with his own DNA.

Danny's destabilization, imo, is not "I cast you with Melt" he's not Ellie, he's not made of 50% ectoplasm. His parents surprisingly knew what they were doing, and he was human. So his destabilization should be unique to himself and different. Thus his destabilization is "I cast you with Compromised Immune System" his body slowly weakens over time as his cells destabilize. He becomes unnaturally frail and sick. Damian calls Ellie for help when Danny doesn't get up after being hit in a fight that he normally, and Ellie helps figure out that he's destabilizing. This is whats gonna happen in OG clone au too, but Ellie is going to be there rather than Damian.

It makes going to Wayne Manor after that slightly more interesting,,,

#dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #damian clone au #i couldnt NOT describe their new suits. i just couldn't. they're leaning into the ghost culture of being scary as fuck looking #i feel a little cheesy for giving them magic jewelry that lets them hide their suits instantly #but i have to make up for danny's lack of ghost form SOMEHOW #damian just gets it too by association #if anyone is curious #Ellie's ghost form is identical to Danny's suit just the colors are inverted. so her suit is all white and her mask is all black #its not a starry au unless its got a read more #did anyone notice the Big Mama cameo from ROTTMNT #its because Danny's mask looks like Casey Jones Jr's mask from ROTTMNT without the red marks on the eyes #Danny and Damian's dynamic itches my brain #Danny: im calling Dad Rights - youre grounded #Damian: nnOOOO #also also. danny uses sign language if he's in view of the living since they could recognize his voice. damian does not yet know ASL #so thats on his 'languages to learn' list #although he is not seen by the public since he has school and ghost attacks happen around danny and not him #Red Huntress gives the Phantom so much shit when she sees his sidekick. Phantom tiredly explains that he had no choice - Wraith would have #come with anyways. truly a robin at heart.#“idc if you say no imma do vigilantism ANYWAY. i dont NEED ur permission” is robincore and bruce/danny going #“fine but i'm gonna make sure you dont DIE then”#clone^2

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1800-fight-me · 1 year

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The Phantom of the Red Keep

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Phantom of the Opera AU

Rating: M (Mature)- as a general rule for my blog, minors please do not interact!

Warnings: Gothic horror romance vibes, violence, very sensual scenes but nothing explicit, jealous and possessive aemond- this is not what we would consider a healthy relationship lol

Word count: About 8.5k

Synopsis: You are haunted by the phantom of the Red Keep and he is determined to make you his.

Author’s note: This is not an exact retelling of Phantom of the Opera, it is based off of the vibes and loose plot, though I took a ton of liberties and of course the villain gets the happy ending in my version. This has been long awaited and its finally here and I am so excited!! I hope this lives up to the hype! Thank you so much @anepitomeofgrace for the mood board!

Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You moved into the Red Keep when you were a young girl after your mother died and your father was given a position in the king’s small council. Everyone warned you of the ghosts that reside there.

But you never were very afraid of ghosts.

When a phantom voice began to speak to you through the walls at night, you were not afraid but rather enchanted.

Your ghost had a beautiful voice, soft and low, as he whispered secrets to you from within the castle walls.

Years passed and you told no one of your encounters with the phantom of the Red Keep, preferring instead to keep his existence to yourself.

You used what he taught you to your advantage. People often questioned where and how you learned to navigate the political landscape of the capital city so well and how you seemed to know everything that happened within it, but you would not reveal your ghost to others.

He was your watchful eye, your teacher, your companion in loneliness, your salvation.

You often wondered if he was truly a ghost or if the rumors of the scarred and reclusive prince were true.

But you never dared to ask, scared you would offend and lose him.

You heard his voice even in your slumber, the soft lilt of his accent as he led you into dreams, dark and deep and often of him.

He called your name, voice low and seductive, and you smiled.

“Tell me of your day,” he ordered as you unfastened the bodice of your dress in preparation to retire for the night.

You never worried if your phantom could see you in states of undress for a part of you would always belong to him, and besides, he was a ghost, or so you believed.

“Lord Stark did in fact attempt to make a move like you warned me he would,” you said softly as you slipped the dress off your body.

“Hm,” the unpleased hum echoed through the room.

“I managed to dissuade his efforts,” you said softly.

“Your father will not tolerate your insolence for much longer,” he mused.

You sighed as you pulled on your nightgown.

“I do not wish to marry.” The end of the sentence, ‘anyone but you’ went unspoken.

For how do you confess to a ghost that you love him?

The soft chuckle heard made your heart thump in your chest as you slipped beneath the sheets of your bed.

“You will eventually be forced,” he said.

“But you can still help me to delay the inevitable, yes?”

“Of course, my sweet,” he promised.

You sighed in contentment.

“Will you tell me another story about dragons to help me sleep?”

You drifted off to sleep with images of fire breathing dragons in your sleep and the warmth of your phantom’s voice in your ears.

———————-

“How interesting,” you said and your bored tone betrayed your true feelings as Lord Greyjoy rambled on about the types of wood his ships were built from.

You wished you could steal one of his ships and sail far away from him.

You took another sip of your wine and withheld your sigh as the man, oblivious to your impatience, began speaking of sails and the type of material used to create them.

You wondered how long you would have to suffer through this before you could escape to the library.

The quiet refuge of books was your favorite place in the Red Keep. The fact that your phantom often visited you there only played a small part in why you loved it so.

“Lord Lannister!” you said in surprise as he approached you and the dreadfully dull Lord sitting on the bench next to you.

“Hello, my lady,” he said kindly and nodded to Lord Greyjoy.

“I was wondering if I could perhaps steal your attentions for a short while,” the handsome man said.

“Of course!” you said all too excitedly.

He smirked.

“I am sorry, Lord Greyjoy,” you said, your tone full of sincerity that you didn’t feel.

“It is alright, I shall have to finish telling you about the wonders of my ships another time,” he said kindly.

“Absolutely,” you agreed and took Lord Lannister’s hand.

He led you down the path through the gardens and once you were certain you were no longer in hearing distance you looked up at him.

At the twinkle of amusement you saw in his eye, you both began to laugh.

“That man is such a bore,” he said and you giggled once more in agreement.

“I hope it is alright that I came to rescue you from his clutches,” he said dramatically and teasingly.

“It is more than alright,” you said with a smile.

“My hero,” you teased and he smirked once again.

You had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Lord Lannister as he walked you through the gardens and eventually deposited you in the library.

He was very kind, if a bit arrogant, but you found that you did not mind his company and he respected you as a person which was much more than many of them men vying for your hand could offer.

Unfortunately your afternoon did not get better as you anticipated, for you never heard the sound of your ghost’s voice as you read quietly in your secluded corner of the library.

He did not visit you that night either.

You tossed and turned and struggled to sleep without the comfort of his gentle voice.

When sleep eventually took you, you dreamt of an angel with a halo of white hair who beckoned you to follow him into darkness.

———————-

The next day Lord Lannister invited you to dine with him, which you accepted.

You tried to be realistic. Your yearning for a man you were not sure even existed would not help you in this life.

Your father would marry you to someone soon and at least the man before you was relatively kind and not positively tedious to spend time with.

You even managed to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the arrogant statements he made from time to time so as to not bruise his ego.

He was kind enough and you were prepared to settle, so when he moved to kiss you, you allowed him.

It was a short, proper kiss and did not arouse any sort of feelings within you.

But you smiled at him and thanked him for walking you to your rooms before you found solace within them.

You sighed as the door shut behind you and you were once again alone.

Your favorite voice whispered your name and the hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

You were not alone.

“You are back,” you said breathlessly.

“I did not leave,” he said, his voice hard.

“I… you did not speak to me last night,” you said.

“You betrayed me,” he said and anger colored his tone.

“No, I-“ you protested but were cut off by him.

“No? What do you call it when you smile and bat your pretty eyelashes at a man? What do you call it when you allow another man to kiss you?”

His voice was low and dangerous, full of anger. It should have frightened you but instead you felt indignant.

“It is not as if you kiss me! I do not even know if you are real or a figment of my imagination!”

“Do I not feel real enough to you when you touch yourself to the sound of my voice?” he growled out.

You gasped in shock.

“Do not bother pretending, my sweet. You are not as subtle as you think you are,” he said.

Tears of embarrassment pricked your eyes.

“I am real, pretty girl. Do you not remember how all the suitors you despised seemed to suddenly disappear?”

“That was you?” you asked in surprise.

You sat heavily down at the end of your bed.

“Of course, I protect what is mine. You are mine, are you not?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, spellbound.

“Good girl. You shall have your proof of my existence soon enough, but you must be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” you said hurriedly, excitedly.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Wonderful.”

You breathed a sigh of relief that you were no longer the object of his temper, and instead back in his good graces.

As you fell asleep that night you pondered on what he revealed to you in that conversation. You were giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting proof of your silent protector.

———————-

“I wish to tell you something,” you said to Lord Lannister as he sat with you in the castle gardens.

“Do tell,” he said and his eyes danced with amusement.

“When my mother passed away she promised she would send me an angel to care for me and watch over me.”

“What a beautiful promise,” he said, clearly placating you.

You sighed.

“Yes, and her words came true. There is an angel that protects me,” you said.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“That must be a comforting thought,” he said and patted your hand as if you were a child.

“No, not just a comforting thought, there is a presence that protects me from those that wish me harm,” you said urgently.

“Is that why so many of your suitors have disappeared? I have heard rumors of you being cursed, but I have never been afraid of silly superstitions. I also heard ridiculous gossip of ghosts and recluse princes when I came here, there is no need to put stock in such things.”

You furrowed your brow.

“No, there is-“

“Lord Stark!” the Lannister man exclaimed as he saw his friend across the gardens.

You sighed in frustration as you watched him stand and bound towards Lord Stark and embrace him.

The two began speaking and you were quickly forgotten.

The topic was never raised with him again.

———————-

Your nerves were high as your lady’s maid dressed you for the masquerade ball.

Feasts, parties, and balls were all commonplace during this time of year in which lords and ladies often courted and marriage alliances were made.

Though, a masquerade ball was a first. You were excited. You found the whole idea rather romantic.

“Are you certain about this dress?” you asked Reyna.

“Of course, my lady! You look absolutely beautiful. The men will fall at your feet,” she said with a sweet smile.

You really only cared about impressing your phantom and you hoped against hope that tonight would be the night you finally got the proof he spoke of.

You smoothed the front of your emerald green dress as she brought you the delicate black lace mask.

You pulled it on carefully and Reyna made a few small adjustments before she declared you perfect.

You thanked her and with a grin you made your way towards the great hall.

The moment you entered, you were enchanted. Musicians played ethereally beautiful songs and as you strode through the hall you were fascinated by people’s outfits and masks that bordered on costumes.

Elaborate decorations made the room appear to sparkle and shimmer.

A servant handed you a glass of wine and you sipped on it as you made your way through the bustling crowd.

Soon, however, the dancing began and you smiled happily as you watched the men and women twirl.

A man approached you and asked you to dance, you grinned as you accepted, and quickly determined him to be Lord Greyjoy.

Though he was not your favorite lord, the music was quick paced, as were your steps and you were happy to join the merriment, no matter the company. It was not as if he could speak much to you anyhow as the dance was quick paced and required a switching of partners frequently.

Man after man danced with you and your smile was as wide as the stretch of the sea.

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, like a heavy gaze was upon you, but as you looked around you could see nothing but strangers in masks.

At the end of the last fast song you were spun by Lord Lannister and another man caught you.

The crowd clapped as the song ended and as you caught your breath you looked up at the man who held you.

You did not recognize the face of the handsome stranger who smirked down at you, so why was there something about him that felt so achingly familiar?

He wore all black, with the intricate embellishments on the cloth a dark green, the exact shade as your dress.

His hair, a shocking silvery white color, was straight and pulled half back as it cascaded down his back and across his chest. It was much longer than most men keep their hair, and it was beautiful.

The left half of his face was completely covered with an intimidating black mask that appeared to have a sapphire within it rather than a hole for the eye to see through.

The right side of his face was bare and you marveled at the handsomeness of the sharp planes of his nose, cheekbones, jaw, and chin.

His visible eye was a startling yet otherworldly gorgeous violet color.

His smirking lips were plush and naturally curved upwards.

You had never seen such unique beauty in a man.

You were certain your expression was wonderstruck as you stared up at him.

The next song began, a much slower melody, and he held you close to his warm body as he swayed you both to the beat of it.

“I do not believe we have met,” you said primly as you attempted to muster up your wits.

He smiled at you before he spun you.

He caught you and pressed your back to his front. As he leaned down, his hair fell across your shoulder and his lips grazed your ear.

You shivered in response as your eyes fluttered closed.

His large hands spanned much of your waist and you covered his hands with your own, wishing to keep him close.

“Are you certain of that?” he whispered in your ear.

Your spine went rod straight, the hairs on the back of your neck stood, and you sucked in a gasping breath as you recognized the voice of the man that held you.

He chuckled darkly, that laugh that you often heard in your dreams.

“I am not certain of much of anything anymore,” you breathed out.

“Not even of my promises?” he teased as one hand moved further down your waist and the other up high enough that his thumb grazed the bottom of your breasts.

Your breath hitched even as your eyes drifted closed once more and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“You are the only thing I believe in anymore,” you murmured.

“Hm,” he hummed in satisfaction at your words.

One hand gripped your waist and the other slipped up your arm, across your collar bones to rest gently around your throat, as if his hand were another necklace to adorn you.

“You are most beautiful this night, my sweet,” he purred.

You breathed in his warm masculine scent and wished to stay in his arms forever.

He spun you back around to face him and he caught you with hands around the small of your waist and your hands found their place on his chest.

“You…you are much more handsome than all my wildest dreams. Why would you hide this face from me?”

You could not look away from his gaze, it was as if he had a power to trap you with him, though you would never desire to escape him.

You placed your hand on his cheek and did not miss the way it made him suck in a breath, as if he were just as affected by you as you were by him.

You did not know how many songs had passed since you were in his arms, but you never wanted the music to end for fear of no longer being pressed against him.

The entire room melted away and there was only you and your phantom made flesh as he danced with you to music of your own making.

“There are things you do not know of, that I have made efforts to protect you from,” he answered you finally.

You furrowed your brow in confusion and as you looked away, you realized it was the first time you had looked away from his face since he took you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that multiple songs had come and go and still he held you. You hadn’t realized that most of the eyes in the room were on you, curiously watching you and the mysterious man.

“I have proof now of your existence. Tell me everything, or do you not wish to make me yours?” you asked as you looked back at him.

He pursed his lips as he stared deep into your soul.

“Of course I wish to make you mine,” he breathed out.

He sounded just as entranced by you as you were with him.

You reached up and softly grazed your fingers against his sharp cheekbone.

“Then show me all of you, my phantom,” you whispered as your fingers curled around the edge of his mask.

So enraptured by your touch and your presence it took him a moment longer than it should have to react and you had nearly removed the mask from his face and saw a flash of a jagged scar before he yanked himself back from you.

He pulled the mask from your hand and covered the side of his face once again as he stepped back, his chest heaving with desperate breaths.

You stumbled backwards from the momentum of his sudden movements, and strong hands from behind caught you and with a glance back you realized it was Lord Lannister.

Your breathing was also heavy as you turned back and gazed upon the object of your affections in shock.

Regret flashed in his eye, but he turned and quicker than you could think of anything to say, he disappeared into the large crowd and was soon gone.

He was gone as quickly as he appeared and your eyes stung at the near rejection.

“Are you alright?” Lord Lannister asked you and you realized his hands were still around your shoulders where he had caught you.

“Yes, quite,” you said and the shakiness in your voice did nothing to assure either of you of the statement’s truthfulness.

As your attention once again found the room around you, you then heard the hisses of angry whispers of the people around you.

“Monster.”

“Did you see that horrid scar?”

“Why would she let him touch her?”

“Disgusting.”

“His eye….”

“Recluse prince.”

“Aemond Targaryen,” one man said and you whipped your head around to him.

“What did you say?” you demanded.

“My lady, that must have been Aemond Targaryen, the recluse prince. Only the gods know what would have caused him to slither out from his hiding place,” the old man said worriedly.

You huffed and turned to leave.

“Perhaps I should accompany you to your room to ensure you arrive there safely,” Lord Lannister offered.

You nodded absentmindedly and took his proffered arm.

As you exited the hall you let out a sigh of relief to be away from such a crowd of hateful and discontented Lords and Ladies.

“I fear you put yourself in danger by dancing with such a man, my lady,” Lord Lannister finally said after he gave you several moments of quiet to collect yourself.

“He meant me no harm,” you said softly.

“You know nothing of his intentions,” the man said.

Finally you reached your door.

“Thank you, Lord Lannister, I appreciate your help and concern,” you said in an attempt to dismiss him.

He nodded, and he clearly understood your message.

“Goodnight, my lady,” he said.

“Goodnight, my lord,” you replied and turned and walked into your room.

You shut the door securely behind you before you slid to the floor and released the tears you had been holding back.

You could no longer withhold the torrent of mixed emotions you felt that so overwhelmed you.

You heard nothing from your ghost that night and as you fell into a fitful sleep, nightmares plagued you.

You dreamt of a demon that chased you and all you could see of it were two sapphire colored eyes that glowed in the depth of darkness you were lost in.

———————-

Your phantom did not find you for the next two days and despite being surrounded by people often, most frequently suitors who wished to woo you, you found yourself incredibly lonely.

Each night when you entered your room you called out for him but only silence greeted you.

By the third day you resolved yourself to try and move on. It was easier said than done.

Now that you had actually met the man that belonged to the voice you idolized, it was much harder to prevent yourself from loving him.

It was as if he was in your head, had burrowed himself in your heart, captured your soul and held it in the palm of his hands.

How were you supposed to just let go?

You pondered on all these things as you attempted to relax in the bath in your chambers.

Your father was pressuring you to make a decision soon. You were lucky that he even allowed you a say in who you would marry, though you knew he was partial to Lord Lannister. Thankfully, he agreed with your assessment that Lord Greyjoy was an absolute bore.

He was not present at the masquerade when you danced with your phantom, but he had surely heard the gossip by now.

It would not bode well for you.

You wished to hear your ghost’s voice so desperately you feared you were hallucinating the sound.

But there it was again, your name, said with such gentleness and care.

“Are you really there?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes, my sweet,” he said after a moment too long of silence.

You sighed in relief.

“I have missed you,” you said.

“Truthfully?” he asked and there was vulnerability in his voice.

“Of course,” you said passionately.

He did not reply and you grew concerned he did not believe you.

You were suddenly grateful for the suds and bubbles in the bathtub for fear he could see you. It was something you had never been self conscious about before, but now that you had seen the handsome man himself and knew he was real, you were more worried about what he had seen.

Even still, you said, “Please do not hide from me any longer, I wish to see you when you speak to me.”

“Why would you wish to see a monster?” he asked harshly.

Your eyes prickled with tears at his pain.

“I do not believe people’s words that you are a monster. You, who has protected me at every turn, are a good man,” you said gently.

The oversized portrait beside your bed creaked and opened as if it were a door.

You gasped as your phantom stood in the darkened entryway.

A mask still adorned half his face, though this time it was white and interestingly there was still a sapphire embedded in it where his eye should be.

You sunk lower into the bath and gripped its edges as you stared back at him.

“You cannot believe that about a creature of such darkness,” he said.

“I do. I rather like the dark,” you said and a small smirk showed on his beautiful lips.

“Come closer,” you said as you reached your hand out to him.

He walked slowly over to you and knelt next to the bathtub.

You placed your hand gently on the side of his face and his eye fluttered closed while he took a shaky breath.

“Your name,” you said, your voice soft and tentative. “Is it Aemond as some have speculated?”

He made a pleased sound low in his throat as he nuzzled his face into your hand.

He ran his nose across your palm and the veins at your wrist.

Your heartbeat spiked.

“You have no idea how long I have yearned to hear my name fall from your perfect lips, my sweet,” he murmured.

Your breathing was heavy as you looked at your phantom, your angel, your Aemond.

“Aemond, I apologize for attempting to unmask you in front of a room full of people. Truthfully, I forgot we were not the only two people in the world,” you said gently as your fingers traced his cheek and lips and soaked in the warmth of his skin.

“Hm,” he hummed in pleasure.

“Will you bare yourself to me now?” you asked.

You wanted to add that it was only fair as you were currently mostly bare in front of him.

Though the bath was a milky color from the soaps and scents, and suds still covered the surface, you were certain his all knowing eye could see much of your glistening wet skin.

His eye blinked open and he looked at you, his gaze raw and full of emotion.

The sound of knuckles rapping at your door broke your focus from him.

“My lady?” your lady’s maid called out.

You looked across the room to your door.

He quickly stood and disappeared behind the portrait door once again without another word, as if he truly were a ghost.

You sighed in frustration before you called out, “Yes? Come in.”

“My lady, I forgot to bring you your fresh bed sheets, I am so sorry! I will only be a moment,” she said as she rushed to your bed.

“It is quite alright, Reyna,” you reassured as her anxieties often became too high.

She smiled at you and quickly started her task.

You sunk lower into the now cold bath and cursed your rotten luck.

———————-

Your father ran out of patience and betrothed you to Lord Lannister.

You sat at the celebratory feast and tried not to look too sullen.

When the queen congratulated you, you flinched slightly, now that you knew it was her son you were so desperately in love with you felt even more guilty.

You worried the news would break him.

Even still, you did your best to be graceful and poised as many people offered you their excitement on your happy news.

You didn’t mind Lord Lannister, truthfully, but he did not bewitch your very soul as Aemond Targaryen did.

There was a commotion that caught your attention, a fire had started in the opposite end of the grand hall.

You gasped and watched as the men rushed to put it out.

A hand grasped your wrist and began to tug you backwards.

Your eyes widened in surprise as your phantom pulled you into the nearby darkened hallway.

A mask still covered half his face and his expression was hard.

He pressed your back against the cold stone wall with the weight of his body against yours.

Your breath sped and your heartbeat spiked.

Not from fear, no, from the feel of the long planes of his warm body against yours.

He placed a hand against the wall on either side of your head and caged you in.

“Do you wish to marry him?” he asked.

“No,” you breathed out, your focus again on his lips as he spoke.

He leaned down so his lips grazed your ear and asked, “What do you desire?”

You shivered.

“You,” you practically moaned as your eyes closed.

He hauled his body off yours and you whimpered softly at the loss of his warmth.

He smirked.

“Then wait for me, I shall come for you, my sweet. I promise,” he said and you quickly nodded in agreement.

He turned his head to look back down the hallway at the great hall.

His hair swished as he moved and you longed to run your fingers through the white silken strands.

“They have most likely put out the fire by now. Go before you are missed,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, and before you tore yourself away from him you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He hummed in pleasure and you attempted to memorize the sound, beautiful as it was, just like everything about him.

When you reentered the great hall, the chaos was settling and no one had noticed your brief absence, not even your betrothed.

———————-

Most afternoons you could be found in your favorite secluded corner of the library.

Unfortunately, your betrothed knew that and often interrupted your reading.

Today however, you were blissfully alone as you reread your favorite book.

Sunlight filtered through the nearby window and bathed you and your novel in a warm glow.

A cup of tea and a little snack were long forgotten as the plot enraptured you and you curled up into a plush armchair.

A whisper of your name slid through the contented air and alerted you to the presence of another.

“Aemond?” you whispered back.

“Come with me,” he crooned.

You turned and saw him. He had revealed another secret hallway, this time hidden by a bookshelf.

His beauty was otherworldly and you felt as if you were in a trance as you set your book down, stood, and walked towards him.

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into the dark and watched as he shut the bookshelf door behind you.

He lifted a torch off the stone wall and held it before the both of you, though you suspected it was only for your benefit.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

The thought occurred to you that you should have asked before you followed him, but logic was never your strong suit when it came to decisions about your phantom.

You could never resist his pull.

“To show you more of myself,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You walked through winding corridors until he stopped at another portrait-door. Though, this time your view of it was from the inside.

He opened it, stepped down himself, and then with hands on your waist, helped you navigate the large step down.

Though, he stood so close that your body practically slid down the length of his as you did so.

With your hands on his strong shoulders you stared at him.

His gaze flickered down to your lips and for a moment, an excruciating wonderful moment, you thought he might kiss you.

But he released you and took a step back, his breaths as rapid as your own.

With him not right in front of you, you could see the room you stood in.

It was dark, the dark curtains drawn completely so as to not allow any light within.

Candelabras adorned the furniture to offer the light your eyes so desperately needed.

It was also clearly the room of a prince, grand and ornately decorated.

Black and emerald green silk covered the large canopy bed.

The other decorations matched his chosen colors.

You slipped from his hands and walked around the room, your fingers traced the surfaces as you took it all in.

It was all so Aemond. But there were pieces of you as well.

A vase full of your favorite flowers. Stacks of your favorite novels were on both his bedside table and his desk. They were mixed with books you did not recognize, ones that must be his favorites.

Crumpled papers took up space on the desk, with your name scrawled at the top of the one on a stack of blank papers, as if he had been trying to write you a letter.

There was an easel with paint supplies in front of the window, finished paintings leaned against the wall, turned around so you could not see them.

The painting drying on the easel, however, was of you. You gasped softly.

It was a romantic view of you in the bath as you had been the other night, and there was such love and tenderness in your face as you looked at the viewer of the portrait, the painter of the portrait, truthfully.

There was a halo of light around your body, every stretch of your skin that was visible had a brightness about it, the more intimate parts of your body covered by the water in the bath.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you realized this is how he viewed you. An angel, just the same as you perceived him.

He was your angel of darkness and you were his angel of light.

“Oh Aemond,” you breathed out.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that many of the completed paintings you could not see were of you as well.

You knew the reality of what you saw, this was not just love, it was obsession.

Logically, you should be scared, but you could not bring yourself to be anything but flattered.

There was a mirror in the corner, but it was covered by black cloth as if he did not wish to see himself, your heart cracked at the thought.

He had been watching you warily as you explored his space and learned more about him.

“I want you to know the reality of what you would be getting into if you choose me, my sweet. A life of darkness with someone most consider a monster,” he said as he leaned against the wall and looked down at the floor.

You strode towards him and placed a hand on his cheek and led him to look at you.

“That is your version of reality? In my reality I see a kindhearted man who cares for me deeply and is offering me a life of affection. I do not care for others' opinions and would like to help you heal from the hurt they have inflicted,” you said quietly and tenderly.

He breathed out in surprise and brought you closer, so you were pressed against him.

“You say such kind words but you have not seen all of me, you do not know why others fear me. There is more darkness to me than you know,” he said lowly, but still he moved his face closer and nudged his nose against yours.

“Then show me,” you begged once again, “and let me accept you completely.”

His lips were so close to yours that you could almost feel them.

You ached for him, had ached for him for so long, that you lost yourself, your self control, and leaned up to brush your lips against his.

But, he pulled back right before your lips were able to meet.

You let out a shuddering breath, same as he did as he pulled his face back enough to look at you.

He intertwined his fingers with yours and lifted your hand to the mask he wore.

With a slight nod he gave you permission to remove it from his face but still said, “Are you certain? This would bring you past the point of no return.”

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” you said fervently as you stared at him with your heart in your throat.

He swallowed and dropped his hand from yours to let you finally take off the mask.

You gently curled your fingers around the edges and his eye fluttered closed, another indication of his nervousness, as if he could not handle seeing your expression once you saw him.

You slowly pulled it off and revealed the other half of his face.

A long jagged scar stretched from above his eye down across his cheek.

Instead of a left eye, there was a sapphire in place of where his eye should be.

You realized you were mistaken before when you thought that the mask held the sapphire, it was in fact a replacement to the eye that was missing.

Though the scar marred his skin, it did not take away from his handsomeness. You could understand how the scar and sapphire eye could intimidate others, but you could not understand how anyone could describe him as a monster.

“Beautiful,” you murmured as you cupped his cheek and ran your thumb across the scar.

His eye fluttered open and as he looked at you, his perfect lips parted in shock. You knew he felt that the disfigurement was a reflection of his soul and expected rejection. Though he had subjected himself to the potential rejection anyway, because of his feelings for you.

“You cannot mean that,” he said and the words broke your heart.

You kissed his cheek, his scar, right below the sapphire eye and he gasped softly.

“My phantom, my protector, my Aemond,” you said as you trailed your lips across his cheek, across the length of the scar.

“I absolutely mean it,” you said passionately and he groaned as he, at long last, pressed his lips to yours.

His plush lips were soft as he pressed them firmly against yours.

He made a low pleased hum as your lips moved against his and you tangled your fingers in his hair.

It was not the sort of kiss that sparked a fiery passion, no, it was slower moving than that, deeper. The kind of kiss that changed the both of you intricately, completely, eternally.

The kiss molted the love within you and him like lava and fuzed your souls together.

When you pulled back and ended the kiss he said, “I love you, completely, my angel of light.”

“And I love you, darkness and all,” you replied and kissed him once more.

———————-

The day of your wedding to Lord Lannister had arrived and you were a bundle of nerves.

Aemond had sworn to you that you would not have to go through with this wedding. He assured you that he would make you his and his alone.

You believed him, you just did not realize that he would wait until the last minute to do so.

Your lady’s maid Reyna cinched up your wedding gown as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Your expression was sullen and you felt as if you were being readied for your funeral.

Aemond would intervene as he promised, right?

You had tried to talk to your father, to make him understand where your feelings lay, what your heart desired, but he refused to listen.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Reyna said as she finished prepping you and stepped back to view her work.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“What is wrong?” she asked as she took your hands.

You shook your head and refused to let your eyes fill with tears.

You must believe in your phantom’s promise, he had protected you at every turn and you had to believe him that he would do so now.

“Lord Lannister seems kind,” Reyna said gently.

You nodded.

“Yes. Yes he does,” you agreed as you took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

Your father arrived and escorted you to the sept.

The sept was grand as always, and as it was sunset, lit completely with hundreds of candles.

A large crowd of lords and ladies filled the room and watched you as you walked towards a future of shackles.

Your heart plummeted as you saw Lord Lannister there waiting for you.

He smiled at you as your father walked you towards him, escorted you towards a loveless life. You could not force yourself to smile back. Your breath was short and it felt as if there was a weight on your chest. Your legs shook as you walked and finally you stood before Lord Lannister and the septon.

The Septon cleared his throat and the crowd’s murmurs and whispers hushed and it was suddenly all too quiet.

You could hear the pounding of your own heart.

The septon opened his mouth to speak, to begin the ceremony, when another booming voice filled the sept.

“I object to this marriage. This woman is spoken for. She belongs to me,” the voice of your ghost echoed through the room, through your very soul.

You gasped in relief.

The sept doors blew open by an unexpected and terrifying gust of wind that blew out all the candles and thrust the grand room into darkness.

There were gasps of horror and shock as well as screams in fear.

You grinned.

“This wedding is over,” the voice announced and you whipped your head around as you realized where the origin of the sound was.

The phantom of the Red Keep stood behind the Septon.

A fire suddenly lit behind him, illuminating him, and another round of gasps and screams began.

Aemond stood, presence intense and intimidating, dressed all in black. He wore nothing to cover his scar and sapphire eye.

Your body moved of its own accord and you managed to take one step towards him, when an arm gripped you around your waist and hauled you backwards.

Lord Lannister shoved you behind him and pulled out his sword.

He pointed it at Aemond. You lurched forward, but he held you back with his arm.

Aemond quickly pulled out his own sword.

The septon scrambled away.

Guards began to stream into the sept, but the fire spread, as if controlled, and circled around the three of you, and kept everyone away.

“You have no claim on this woman! She is my betrothed!” Lord Lannister yelled.

Aemond smirked, a devilish sort of smile.

“That is certainly not true, is it, my sweet? I have a strong claim on you, do I not?” Aemond asked you as he leaned to the side to meet your eyes around his enemy’s body.

“Yes,” you breathed out, entranced by his presence.

Lord Lannister whipped his head around to look at you in shock.

“He is a monster. Let me save you from him. I am your chosen hero, remember?” he said fervently.

You shook your head.

“He is my protector, I tried to tell you this before. My heart belongs to him,” you replied.

“No,” he said angrily and shook his head.

“No,” he repeated himself, “you will not whore yourself out to this vile demon. You are my betrothed.”

He attacked your love. You gasped as they crossed swords and the sound of clanging steel echoed.

You stepped back, as close as you could get to the edge of the circle of fire without burning yourself, and did not know what to do.

Others watched the fight through the fire, helpless to assist, and did nothing but spectate.

The men fought and it was clear that despite Aemond’s missing eye, he was the superior skilled swordfighter.

You felt powerless to help. The fight did not last long, for Aemond soon sliced a shallow cut across Lord Lannister’s chest and then disarmed him.

He held the tip of his sword to his opponent’s throat as he breathed heavily and gritted his teeth. Hate gleamed in his one good eye and you knew your betrothed represented all the hate and suffering Aemond had endured since his eye was so savagely taken.

“Stop,” you gasped.

He turned his head to meet your gaze and the look in his eye softened.

“You do not have to kill him,” you said, “just take me. Let us be together. Let us leave this place behind.”

He pursed his lips, a war fought inside his mind, before he nodded and removed his sword from Lord Lannister’s throat even as he kicked the other sword away so it would be completely out of reach.

You ran to him and threw yourself in his arms.

He kept his sword pointed at your former betrothed, but hugged you back with his other arm.

Lord Lannister held up his hands and nodded, conceding and admitting his defeat.

Aemond turned his head and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I want it to be known here and now that this woman did choose me willingly. Though I know you will indeed ignore my words, there need be no monster hunt, she and I wish to leave peacefully,” Aemond announced.

The crowd stared in shock as you pulled his face down for a passionate kiss.

Your love raged like the fire that surrounded you.

He was yours and you were his.

“Take me,” you begged him as your lips broke apart.

The last thing you saw was the uptilt of his lips into a smirk before the room was plunged into darkness and then there was only the sensation of falling.

You splashed into deep water and strong hands pulled you up.

“We must hurry,” your lover said as he helped you swim.

You looked up and as the ceiling closed above you, you could see that the entire sept seemed to have lit up in flames once more.

He led you to the edge of the canal and hauled you up out of the water.

He lit a torch he found on the wall and you could finally see.

“It will take them some time to put out the fire, but they will follow us as soon as they can,” Aemond said to you in a hushed and hurried tone as he helped you step into a small boat that floated upon the water. He handed you the torch and you held it as you took your seat and settled.

He soon followed and took the oars and rowed as quickly and powerfully as he could, his strength evident in the action.

He navigated the canals effectively and knew which turns to take in the winding and confusing darkness.

You stared at him as he did so and admired your phantom in the flickering light.

His hair was wet, his lips set in a hard and determined line, and the sapphire glimmered and gleamed.

You loved him, you wanted him, you were joyously happy he had saved you from a life you despised.

You smiled.

His gaze flickered to yours and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I love you,” you said quietly but strongly.

He smiled. A real, full smile, not a smirk or a half smile, a real full smile in which his lips stretched and you could see his teeth.

“And I love you, my sweet,” he eventually replied, the moment heavy with emotion.

“Thank you, for protecting me, my guardian angel,” you whispered.

He shook his head.

“Thank me when we are actually safe in our destination,” he said.

“Where is our destination?” you asked. You did not truly care about the answer, anywhere safe with him was perfect to you.

“There is an estate in the countryside owned by the Hightowers, my mother’s family, that has been gifted to us by my mother. Some sort of recompense for all I have endured from my father’s family, I suppose. We shall have to pretend to be Hightowers and it will be a simpler life than you are used to in King’s Landing, but it will be safe and I will protect you. I hope you find that suitable,” he said softly.

“Of course,” you said, “a life with you is all I desire.”

He smiled once more and it was your favorite sight in all the world.

“Good, I have arranged for a septon to be waiting there to wed us. If all goes well it will only be a few days' journey and then you will well and truly be my wife.”

You grinned and placed your hand on his knee as he continued to row. It took all your self control not to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until neither of you could breathe anymore.

“I could not imagine anything more perfect, my love,” you replied.

The canals eventually deposited the two of you into the entrance of a river on the outskirts of the city.

Aemond climbed out of the boat and quickly helped you do the same.

Thankful for the cover of darkness, he snuck you to a stable where two horses awaited you both.

He pulled clothes out of the packed saddle bags and handed you a bundle.

“Can you help me?” you asked as you turned your back to him.

You heard a shuddering breath.

“Of course,” he said and began to unlace your wedding dress. He slowly pulled at the laces, and his fingers brushed your skin as he did so. You shivered, and you were not certain if it was from the cold air or desire for the ghost that stood behind you.

You slipped out of it and turned back to face him.

His gaze was dark and intense once again.

Your heartbeat stuttered.

Then you heard distant shouting, you were still being pursued.

“We must hurry,” he urged.

You swallowed your disappointment and nodded even as you began to remove the rest of your clothes.

He walked to the other side of the horses, to hide you from his view, and allowed you to finish changing.

You pulled on the new clothes, and realized he had picked out peasant clothes a man would wear, most likely to make you both as inconspicuous as possible.

You pulled on the fresh underclothes, the trousers and boots, and then the loose white shirt.

He rounded the horses, already fully changed with an eyepatch over his sapphire eye.

Your breath caught as he knelt before you and began to tie the laces of your boots.

You bit your lip as you watched him.

His nimble fingers moved quickly as he laced both shoes then stood to his full height before you.

He then laced up the front of your shirt, to hide your breasts, and his hands grazed them as he did so.

Your breathing was heavy as you watched him.

He nodded in satisfaction with his work then pulled two cloaks out of the saddle bags as well.

He pulled his cloak on and then helped you with yours.

Your hands caught his and you could not help yourself.

“Kiss me,” you breathed out.

He huffed in amusement before he pulled you in for a brief but firm kiss.

“Aemond, please,” you begged as he pulled back.

He gripped your waist and rested his forehead against yours.

“I will make you mine and give you everything you desire, my love,” he promised, “but you must exercise patience. We need to hurry, our lives are still at stake.”

You sighed and nodded.

He pulled your hood over your head and then tied his hair back and did the same.

With strong hands on your waist he helped you climb atop your horse and then mounted his own.

With the click of his tongue, he urged his horse forward and you followed his lead.

Soon, both your horses were galloping and you left the horror of King’s Landing far behind.

You journeyed into the darkness, but felt assured that there was light at the end of your travels for your phantom was there with you, and you would be together, forever, as you both desired, as was right.

You loved the man, the ghost, the so-called monster beside you. You loved your protector, the man who had maimed and killed for you, who guided you through the deepest darkness.

He was your angel, your salvation, the rest of your life.

He was yours and you were his, forever.

All was finally right in the world.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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witchofthesouls · 1 year

Note

I rarely see any TFP Soundwave love here, let’s fix that shall we?

TFP Soundwave developing an obsession for the Autobots new human, a girl with hacking abilities so good she has best Soundwave at his own game of my than one occasion, is unable to read her mind despite him being telepathic, and has saved and cared from Laserbeak due to outside forces without the Autobots knowing.

*Soundwave, tilting his head to the side with a question mark popping up on his visor: “Query: (Y/N); prime mommy material?”

Cause let’s me honest, you’d get the hots too if a chick smaller and daintier than you kicked your ass on more than one occasion and cared for your kid despite being enemies.

(In total agreement. I love me some TFP!SW and this is most likely a slight crossover with Elsewhere University or a Magic!AU since you earned a boon to shield yourself from mental abilities.)

You’re difficult to locate and it’s galling.

Unlike the other Autobot pets, taken and secluded away by their guards and shielded base, you actually have a life outside of them, and it seems that you have no set ‘bot for some meager protection.

Instead of an easy target to snatch away -so eye-catching with that ridiculously bright-green hoodie with flopping audials- Soundwave digs and digs and digs for your whereabouts…

And you’re not there. The most he could find was your birth records, a few newspaper scans of the sparkling-equivalent of basic education, and then you drop from the face of the planet after high school. You reappear after five years and hop across the world with no rhyme or rhythm and at an impossible speed with the current technology on Earth.

Annoyance turns into begrudging respect for your efficient work. You have a talent for finding even the most inconsequential recordings of their presence and you cleanly wipe away the evidence.

If anything you do break the monotony of his work, especially with the little notes of “Better luck next time, Slenderman” or sad cat memes replacing the conspiracy posts of Cybertronian presence on Earth…

And then, Laserbeak completely disappears for a week without a hint of her status. No activity. No locator. Not even a life signal.

Soundwave searched everywhere. Remaining at the consoles, letting the massive amount of data flow into his systems, and refining his queries. When that amounted to nothing, he locked his hydraulics and set himself into the Nemesis itself, supplying his frame from the ship’s flow, overriding his own filtration because needed its power. He has to know. There must be absolute proof. He cannot stare into the ceiling of an empty room and do nothing but scramble after hope-

When Laserbeak suddenly reappeared, Soundwave disconnected from the warship and checked himself into Knock Out’s care, dismissing the accumulated complaints because he still had done all the necessary work and more during his locked state.

He weighed the necessary systems flush for the accumulated slag and joint stress as an acceptable tradeoff.

“Aren’t you a lucky girl? Count your stars that I do actually have standards, pretty bird.” In the memory loop, he feels the ghost of your touch, gentle and searching as you repair the damaged circuitry and clamp the sparking wires. A gloved hand resting upon the still wing and he can feel the phantom of your own biochemistry. Unique in its chaotic not-patterns and near-repetitive beats that clash and reform and clash again.

And you were right. Laserbeak was truly lucky that the shot didn’t stray to the left and the compromised seams. Otherwise, she would be gone as well. Laserbeak pings her active status over the bond as if she’s not currently docked on him.

“Sorry, birdy, you gotta stay like this.” Beneath the tease, there are apologetic notes as you keep Laserbeak immobilized by unknown means. In an off-placed mirror, he sees the outline of dark goggles and a facemask underneath that absurd hoodie, the screens of monitors, a toolbox, and, of all the things, Energon crystals.

“And tell your master that there’s no point coming here. I’ll be long gone and elsewhere.”

Something in your tone spoke of a private inside joke.

And true to your word, the suburban dwelling used to treat her is completely empty. It stands empty and unoccupied and without a trace of your once presence. Not even the security cameras, both public and private, could find one hint of a person living there. Only the vehicle with darkly-tinted windows drove and entered the garage, the doors closed without anyone stepping out.

And you purposely leave that hint.

That car -the very one used to transport Laserbeak -was found abandoned and hollowed out by fire, erasing physical evidence of yourself and her.

:: ‘Tor. I like that one. :: Laserbeak hums with a pulse of warmth. Not quite affection, but close enough.

His lips twitch to a near smile beneath the visor as it traces the digital records of the license plate. It leads to a second-hand purchase by a dead human.

He’s starting to like you, too.

#ask #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #soundwave #reader insert #magic #cybertronian biology #laserbeak #maccadam #my writing #arson falls under Decepticon appreciation and love language #Or more like Soundwave's #You wear a GIR hoodie all the time #that thing has powerful protection #injury

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chatlote · 7 months

Text

Details / Explanation of my NG+ Au

Notes from the art I just posted a few hours ago!

It's about 700 words long but I hope it's an enjoyable read!

The last time before New Game+ they had an honest conversation was 2/2, aka: Akechi telling Joker to accept that Akechi's life is a small sacrifice to pay for making things back to normal.

So their relationship is really confusing, at least from Akechis perspective. Rivals for most of the year, and then teaming up for the third semester because of a common goal. Even though Joker clearly cares, Akechi probably doesn’t even see that as honest and just something more like pity.

Akechi never sees himself as part of the phantom thieves during the entire 'first' run so now that he is back to the 'start' it's been a very stressful situation, he knows Shido wants to kill him within a year, but he still wants to get revenge, he is more lonely than ever before because he actually had teammates for a bit, and the phantom thieves might show up at any point and he has to face them again but he doesn’t know how to. All this on top of the fact that it's weird to have suddenly been sent back in time.

He is a great actor, his entire life for 2 years has been lies, but this level of pretending is a bit much. And I think a lot about when he just opens up to Futaba and Joker in Leblanc while he is being shunned by society for not agreeing with the PT might have been one of the few times that pretending didn’t come as easy because he was genuinely stressed/having a bad one.

So, has been sent back, and has been spending a few days unsure of what to do, or even if this is real, because he did just supposedly ‘break out of a fake reality’ but maybe that went wrong? Maybe this is once again being controlled by someone else.

And then he stumbles upon Joker in Shibuya, and that moment really breaks him, reality is catching up. He has to relive this year again. Because one of the future phantom thieves, the leader himself, just showed up.

He is not alone in feeling terrified about this whole ‘sent back in time’ thing, obviously, Joker is finding all this overwhelming too, which is why when he sees something akin to recognition in Akechis expression, he immediately has to reach out, grab him and hope, hope that he isn't wrong and he won’t have to go through all this again, alone.

This is happening in the first week of the loop, so there’s just, Joker has been to the metaverse once, Morgana hasn’t joined the team yet. Joker hasn’t told anyone about it because he isn't even sure how to go about it. Or who would believe him, or once again if he believes it himself, Maruki reality really making them question themselves.

Some stuff from after this meeting (might make some comics about this too but I have other shuake plans rn so might be a bit) From this encounter I imagine it goes into an apprehensive team-up, apprehensive from Akechi’s side. Joker will want to spend a lot of time together where they get to finally be honest with each other, and make use of all the time we lost, while Akechi tries to keep the relationship more business-like (and fails at it). They do need to figure out some lies and plans of what to do about the targets pilling up from Shido, which Akechi isn’t quite in the mood to deal with. (Metaverse having some issues Shido trust me on this)

They also use each other as anchors for their sanity a bit. Still a very disorienting situation, and sometimes it's waking up and not being sure if they are alone in remembering and sending the other a 3 a.m. message, other times is just being able to sit at Jazz Jin and having a conversation they have not had before, since at some point hearing a friend and acquientence have the same conversation you have had once before for the first time can get…upsetting? or I suppose uncomfortable.

At some point, they would tell the thieves everything, it’s hard not to. And Akechi joins them very early on through Joker's recommendation and insistence, revealing the black mask bit stuff would come more mid-way through the year.

To not make this post longer I will leave it at this for now!

#persona 5 #shuake #my aus #is it me getting into a new fandom if I don't make an Au sooner or later #if theres any questions i will gadly reply I'm sure I could write a fic about this if i had the time

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year

Note

Is Ortho a sort of artificial Kaiju in your AU ro is he a type of Kaiju with the ability to use surrounding materials as a sort of armour. Because his real form is too small.

That is a very good question! I’m gonna put this under a read more just in case since there is a bit of angst in here that might make people uncomfortable, but keep in mind that some ideas may change over time if something better comes to mind.

If I have to tag it a specific way, please let me know and I’ll do so! There’s also mostly spoilers for the secondary antagonist(s) in the story, but at some point I’ll see about doing a post for these antagonists…or I might introduce them in one of the later chapters~ >v>

I’m still fleshing out some of the details on him, but for the most part—much like his normal self in game—Ortho in this AU is artificial…and yet in the same breath, he isn’t.

In the early days, Ortho was a normal Kaiju just like his brother who grew up on the Isle of Woe and traveled to the Isle of Sages at some point when they (aka Idia) were in their early teens searching for a safe place to call home. Given how emotionally shut down Idia was even amongst the most anti-social Kaiju, one had to wonder: what exactly happened to the two, and why did Idia keep this mechanical version of his brother so close? If you were to ask, all you’d get from him would be two words:

The Precursors…

No one knows what these beings are or how they came to be. No one has even seen what they look like outside of their metal shells that closely resembled humans wearing masks and carrying electro staves. Yet one thing was for sure: they moved in synch, working together in such unison that it was as if they were one being. They behaved like…a hive mind. And they were dangerous.

Were you to ask the older Kaiju themselves, it might come as a shock to learn that they fear these smaller beings due to the terrible things that they can (and have) done to their Kaiju in the past. Were they originally the creators of these giant beasts? No one can say for sure as it had been so long since the Precursors have been seen, very few Kaiju remaining from that time that even remember the truth of their origins. However…there is no mistaking that the very experiments they did has left a very real horror that still lives on even in the younger generations.

A horror that would result in the appearance of phantom Kaiju.

So…what does this have to do with Ortho? Well, messing with the very DNA of Kaiju wasn’t the only thing that was happening. After all, how else would they figure out the resiliency of these massive titans? Or perhaps they wanted to see how a mechanical version of one of the Kaiju would be received by other Kaiju? We may never truly learn what their intentions were…

How Ortho’s mind managed to survive through this ordeal is difficult to say: natural Kaiju resiliency? Sheer determination? Or sheer force of will and spirit to not leave his big brother alone in the world? Who knows. Yet, somehow, he managed to hold on to that child/cub-like joy and innocence as he follows his older brother around the Isle of Sages, consuming a mixture of organic and inorganic materials to maintain his new form over the years and utilizing energy sources around the island to stay online.

In fact, Yuu manages to see him chowing down on some metal ships from afar, during the first chapter when they’re trying to figure out how to climb down from their mountain-view “home”! The metal that constitutes his body is considered to be “living metal”, which slowly regenerates with the nanites that the Precursors installed. Consuming pure metal or even metal ores from rocks can actually help speed up this recovery too by providing the nanites in his system the materials needed, hence why he doesn’t require maintenance to replace missing or broken parts.

Like I said, I’m still working out some of the finer details behind Ortho since it would be much harder for Idia to be tech savvy in this AU (though in a way they do have their own “tech”), but I can say for sure that he’s not completely mechanical nor is he completely organic anymore. He’s still the sweet, adorable bean we all know and love, just in Kaiju form and with trauma for him and Idia!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland kaiju au #twst kaiju au #idia shroud #ortho shroud #faun speaks #if you guessed that the secondary antagonists are based on the robots in chapter 6 you get a cookie!

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gretchensinister · 6 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @marypsue for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

732 oh gosh it needs to have text next to it to not show up giant

2. What’s your total word count?

1,316,095 aha you can tell most of my fics are short

3. What fandoms do you write for?

What I am currently preoccupied with is The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance. The vast majority of my fics are for Rise of the Guardians, and I have one fairly substantial fic each for Thor and Venom.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Give You Everything, not surprised about this one, it's Eddie/Venom and I published it a little less than four months after Venom came out in theaters. 2. Single Snowflakes, this one is a surprise? It's barely over 1K, T for subject matter, Bunny/Jack where Jack talks about past trauma with Bunny. I wouldn't have written it except that this was part of my project to fill every prompt on Round 1 of the Rise of the Guardians Dreamwidth kinkmeme. I guess it resonated with people??? 3. How Old? Another Bunny/Jack fic, G-rated and very short. 4. What it Means to Ask, yet ANOTHER Bunny/Jack fic, G-rated, but about how serious the concept of being a "mate" is in Pooka culture. How Old? was also related to that. 5. Down and Dirty-a wrestling-type fight between Jack and Bunny turns into sex.

What have we learned? The Jackrabbit fans, they are legion.

5. Do you respond to comments?

For the past several years, yes, pretty much always. Back in 2012 when I was just starting to post on Ao3, I was like unto a nervous deer and sometimes didn't respond. But I did print out all the comments on Without Contraries There Is No Progression (Pitch/Sandy that got me writing big complete things) and put them on my fridge at the time. It helped me get my master's degree.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The one that comes to the top of my head is Warmer Than I Thought. Jack's dying because he just didn't have enough believers when he became a Guardian. He's not going to come back with continuity of self. Pitch is there to offer him some scant comfort as he goes.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mostly write happy endings, honestly, but the honor of the most happy and resolved ending goes to His Time, which is chronologically the last fic in my Rise of the Guardians Apotheosis AU. It's a far-distant future, OT8, everyone is together and essentially the pantheon of a new planet they made after Earth is gone due to the expansion of the sun. They are trying to make it go well this time, and so far succeeding.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

The closest thing to hate I ever got was on my explicit Thorki fic...from a person complaining about how much I had Thor and Loki talk to each other.

9. Do you write smut?

I write a lot of explicit sex, yes.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I've written a fair number in my prompt-fill project, but it's not something I'm drawn to write.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I've never known about any of my fics being stolen.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone talked to me about translating one of my fics and I was very excited and I said yes. However I don't know what came of that because things happened and I fell out of communication with the potential translator. Maybe they finished it and I don't know about it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I don't think I would, unless it was part of a strictly structured event/project.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Well, it's Pitch Black/Sandman. Conceptually, the ships I'm drawn to have ties to dichotomies of dark/light, good/evil, cosmic opposites kind of thing. Pitch and Sandy, as personifications of nightmares and dreams, were a perfect vessel for that obsession.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I told my friends, "I'm not going to rewrite The Phantom of the Opera." And I'm not. But there's a version of PotO that I wanted that uh, isn't what any of the big official versions gave me. So I started writing and I have 49,615 words so far. If I don't find a way to finish it I think I will end up posting it as something permanently unfinished, because there's a lot that I like in it now.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have been told in a real graduate writing workshop that I have good dialogue. I also like to think I'm pretty good at sensory descriptions.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The things I find extremely difficult are endings and like, plots where things happen--I want so badly to write a big complicated Space Empire story but like. How is does political intrigue? (This house is FEELINGS ONLY.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I don't think I'd ever do it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Almost certainly Dragonball Z. If all goes well, my friend and I may have the chance to excavate some of my old notebooks during the holidays and then--it's archive time and that is a threat.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It's A Draught of Light, which I love as it is, and for proving that I could write an alternate-world epic fantasy novel as long as I didn't like, admit that's what I was doing. I do admit though that I have an edited version that takes it farther away from being fanfic that I like even better. Maybe I should, hmm, start taking steps to making that version available, if you understand what I mean.

Who do I know writing out there that hasn't been tagged yet? @queerpyracy, @purplebloodedmajesty, @incurablenecromantic

#meme #writing #rambling

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violetsdaisy · 9 months

Note

4, 7, 11 🪷💜

Thank you Hikari 💖

4: Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Oh gosh, this one has so many answers. A lot of my ideas for stories I have written have been forged while I was reading a book or fic, or watching a show. My fic is never related though, which is funny. As I have said to people before, Senet Shores (a meet cute, beach holiday, hallmark vibe fic) came to me after reading ghost fics? They don’t correlate in the slightest. I also get inspiration from songs, because I listen to music 22/7 of my life. They help keep the creative juices flowing as well.

But A LOT of the time it’s from personal experiences. TSL derived from my own struggle with social anxiety. SS is inspired by a town around a lake that my father used to live in, with a marina bar where he’d teach me how to play pool. My phantom of the opera WIP came from my own experience living in an apartment on my own for the first time.

So yeah, lots of different things can inspire me.

7: How do you choose which POV to write from?

I choose POV from what the story entails. I most comfortable with Yugi in my Yugioh fics because I relate to him the most and it’s easier to get into his headspace. TSL was a challenge that I put on myself to work on a different headspace. Not canon accurate of course, but I felt like it would be too easy and predicable for Yugi to be the one who’s the shy, awkward type. I wanted something different and making Atem a socially anxious NERD really stood out for me.

11: Link your three favorite fics right now

Narrowing my favorites down to three is so hard for me lmao I literally love every single fic I have read and that is not an exaggeration, so I am going to list the ones I have reread a bajillion times.

1. The Acts of Service series by @hikariandyamiblog When I began reading this, it really caught my attention because although I write and read a lot of AU’s, canon stories are my absolute favorite. We don’t get a lot of their love story in the show, unfortunately, and so any time someone writes a canon fic I am zeroed in. What sets this apart is that Atem has this kink that is gosh darn sweet that even through it gives him pleasure, the need of helping Yugi in any way he can is so pure. 100/10 recommend.

2. Catharsis series by @cloudsmachinations Another post canon series that literally melts my heart. I have reread it three times now and I can’t get enough of it. It was my first series that I read when I first came back to Yugioh and I will always, always, come back to it specifically. To me, it’s canon lol

3. Bird Rock Lambchop series by Toffeecape Not to beat a dead horse but… post canon series again 😂 I actually am rereading it again right now and am at Succor. I love it so much, it’s so much more than just a lot of smut. I love how everyone is portrayed in it and the little things that really make it believable. I will probably reread this series until the end of time.

Want to send me a fanfic writer ask? Find the list of questions here.

#daisysays #askgame #fanfic writer

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dnangelic · 5 months

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HELLO- I've been lurking your blog for the past-- uhh... hour or so? reading your writing, looking over your carrd, screaming internally about finding another D.N. Angel fan and just??? hello!!

I do want to follow and interact with you, but I have maybe one or two questions beforehand because I am a weenie and I like making sure things are okay first before following-

First question: Although I do say my backstory for OCs can generally be ignored, I do have one that is for D.N. Angel. However, she's an "exception to the rule" type of character because I like exploring "what ifs" and a distant Niwa descendant (at least 150 years post-canon AU-ish type). I'm not sure if you'd be okay with seeing her on the dash (if we become mutuals)/potentially interacting with her (again, if we become mutuals) so this is me asking if that's okay???

Second question: wHY IS YOUR WRITING SO GOOD LIKE WHAT?? okay but the real second question is are you okay with duplicates? I do write Dark, too (though I need to reread the manga rip me) and I wasn't sure of that either.

I'm so sorry for the essay!! I'm just excited and want to follow/interact and???? yeah- If you'd like, you can respond to this privately! idm either way. I figured an ask would be a good way to ask a question before following- Sorry about this aaaa

(I'm sorry this is weird and sent by a currently non-follower but I like to make sure of things first before following new people;;;)

HELLO!!! oh my gosh dw about it!!! ik how exciting it is to find another fan of (or just someone who even recognizes tbh) the series!! get in here?! i mean assuming my own answers are fine by you too but KJDFJKJG 150 YEARS POST CANON?! that's incredible??

i don't mind that kind of thing at all esp since the time gap is so wide, (i think i'd only be a little picky/heavily plotted with when it comes to like, DIRECT descendants since i have no real set 'ship' for daisuke,) but i'd love to see and interact myself assuming you're also fine with funky time shenanigans?? something something (my) daisuke's still only 15 and all but he'd love without a doubt to meet other niwa ancestors/descendants somehow and by the power of the arts(tm) and funky hikari magic we can MAKE IT HAPPEN. actually i'd think it was really funny that he keeps pining to see or meet / experience all his ancestors but now he's suddenly the ancient ancestor that nobody was supposed to even be able to fathom. fdKJKJFKJGKJ FOSSIL GRANDPA NIWA DAISUKE (HES ONLY 15)

for ur second q don't worry about dupe stuff either!! (AND TYSM FOR THE WRIITING COMPLIMENT??? :SOB:) but like. i'm super dupe friendly. mega dupe friendly! ultra dupe friendly!!! i literally cannot express how dupe friendly i am because i love this series and its characters and i think everybody else should too! DFKJKJGKJ DON'T BE AFRAID, COME TO MEEEE!!! and there's nothing weird about reaching out either, thank you for taking the time to send this sort of thing, actually!! im bringing u (and ur oc. and ur dark.) into my big black phantom thief cape. UR SAFE NOW!!

#*･ﾟ⊰ 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒. ⊱ ✦ › OUT.#*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#iunctura #HII!!! I LOVE UR ENERGY. COME HERE! LETS B FRIENDS. LETS WRITE #assuming my answers r ok by u ofc. if we must part ways no problem. but im a pretty laid back person i think #and an even more laid back rper JKFDKJGK and i WUUUUV finding other fans of the series

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dienamights · 3 years

Text

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s): Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.”

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to-

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?”

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now.

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week.

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No! He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.”

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario.

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,”

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-”

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.”

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight.

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it.

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?”

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high.

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly.

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you.

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed.

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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willowcrowned · 3 years

Text

it is one in the morning and I am once again thing about the phantom of the past au. Specifically baby Ani vs tcw Anakin, and how they feel about tcw Obi-Wan.

Anakin will avoid himself— we all know this. Adult Anakin is coming from the middle of a war, feels like a failure as a jedi, and has had his mom die in his arms (oh wait Anakin can go see his mom now. THAT deserves a post of its own); he’s not gonna talk to nine year old him and have to field questions about his life.

But tcw Obi-Wan? Both Anakins ADORE tcw Obi-Wan (baby Ani thinks this posh Jedi is just the COOLEST!! He defeated the zabrak single-handedly!! He has a laser sword!! He’s really nice and talks to Ani about his mom and Tatooine!!) (Adult Anakin obviously loves Obi-Wan. If you need me to elaborate then I suggest getting a new pair of eyes).

The problem is that both Anakins are also deeply suspicious of their other self’s motives for liking him. (Adult Anakin: younger me didn’t like him this much BEFORE. I bet it’s because he just thinks Obi-Wan is like a cool podracer and won’t care about him in two weeks. Baby Ani: Stars and suns this guy is really annoying. He keeps arguing with Obi-Wan which makes no sense since Obi-Wan is obviously the smartest. I bet Obi-Wan doesn’t know that his best friend doesn’t like him. I’ve got to protect him.)

So begins The Battle for Obi-Wan’s Affections. (Obi-Wan, of course, is horrified.)

#both anakins chasing after Obi-Wan: PLEASE LOVE ME #anakins: YOU LOVE ME BEST RIGHT #anakins: SAY I’M YOUR FAVORITE #qui-gon who is deeply disturbed by all of this: Obi-Wan why are you not phased #TCW Obi-Wan: don’t worry. he’ll get over it around the same time he loses interest in pod racing #Qui-Gon: and when is that?#Obi-Wan: I’m still waiting on it #i believe this might be similar to one of @obiwanobi’s aus???#in which case: check them out they probably helped subconsciously inspire this #phantom of the past au #no one should let me write things late at night #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars #star wars au

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

okay i know you probably have lots of prompts already but. listen; 28 and 41 with my Phantom Thief MK AU (well its more of a phantom thief everyone au but yeah)

So I maaaaay have been a smidgen inspired by one very specific post you made about this AU and Sun Wukong's first successful heist... I couldn't resist, it was just too funny.

You call this luck? No, this is all skill./Can you teach me how to do that?

"Can you teach me how to do that?"

The question wasn't an unusual one between the two of them. MK had asked this of Sun Wukong on more than one occasion as successor to the Monkey King as the Monkie Kid himself.

No, what was unusual was that the question came from the opposite person.

"Teach you... what, exactly?" MK asked, trying not to feel too smug about the swap in roles between mentor and apprentice. After all...

Someone had to teach Sun Wukong the finer points of Phantom Thievery.

"You know what," Wukong said with a half scowl, gesturing to way that his student (or, for the moment now that the question was asked, his teacher) was rolling an large pendant between his fingers. "Not the... you know, what you're doing now, but what you did with the pendant on your last heist where you threw it at a guard and it kind cracked in the middle with the smoke and light and stuff."

"OH," MK laughed out, tossing up and catching the coin in his opposite hand. "That's not really a trick or anything, just some incredibly strong flash paper, and other stuff, that's activated when you open it the right way."

In demonstration the young Phantom Thief did something in the way he held the pendant and one end slipped up with a soft cracking sound. Then he did something else and it open like a clam shell. He held it out to the elder, letting him see the inner workings and how it had latches and some kind of folding wall between the two sides.

"Opening it causes a chemical reaction between the two compartments. The real trick is getting everything inside without accidentally activating it on yourself, practicing the opening motion, knowing when to open it, and aiming it just so that it blinds your target at just the right moment. You know, this is probably just the right time to teach you how to use lines to keep this stuff in your sleeves and retract them too! So..."

As MK launched into a lengthy explanation on how this particular bit of his Phantom Thievery repertoire worked he failed to notice the slowly growing smirk on the Monkey King's face.

"What, uh... what ya got there?" MK asked, very obviously trying to keep an impassive and non-judgemental expression. And failing.

"... smoothies," Wukong answered, absolutely not hiding what he was holding in his tail behind his back as he offered one of the two drinks in his hands to the younger.

It was a poor attempt at lying, which was odd because MK knew that Sun Wukong was pretty good at lying. He had managed to convince the other that he had no idea his successor was a phantom thief for so long after all. But why in the world he seemed to be hiding a... pillow of some sort behind his back was anyone's guess.

"Why'd you bring smoothies?" He chanced asking instead, and he watched as the other's face lit up in pure victory and jubilation.

"They're victory smoothies, Bud!" Wukong exclaimed, shoving one at MK until he took it from the other. "I just completed my first successful heist! And I did pretty well, if I do say so myself." The Monkey King smirked, puffing out his chest in a show of confidence as he took a sip of what was obviously a peach smoothie. "Oh yeah, tastes like a job well done."

"Really!?" MK exclaimed, his own pride welling up knowing that he had a hand in this since he was the other's mentor in thievery. He'd told the other to start small, something that would be missed but not something that would gather immediate attention from the whole city just in case something went wrong. "That's great! What did you steal?"

"I'm not telling."

This made the younger pause, raising a brow as the elder not so subtly tossed the pillow into a nearby bush.

"... should I be concerned?" MK asked, knowing that with Wukong's reputation... he may have bitten off far more than he could chew. This was the immortal who went on a spree through Heaven that ended up with him eating a ton of immortality peaches, drinking immortality alcohol, and taking immortality pills. Among other things.

"No way!" Wukong assured, chugging more and more of his smoothie with seemingly no regard for the possibility of brain freeze. "Trust me, bud, this went off without a hitch. You have nothing to worry about."

Those words came back to to bite Sun Wukong in the ass.

Or, rather, they came back to throw Sun Wukong through MK's window at "way too early for this o'clock" in the morning right after he had finished sleepily getting ready for another day at work and accidentally nodded back off on his bed.

The weight of an immortal stone monkey slamming into you was much more effective than any alarm clock he'd ever used before.

"WHATWHOWHERE!?" MK wheezed out once the Monkey King climbed off him, looking around in confusion until his eyes finally fell on a third party in the room. "M-Macaque!?"

"Where's my couch you wanna be Phantom Thief!?" Macaque yelled, completely ignoring the person who's house he had just inadvertently broken into. He brushed bits and pieces of broken glass and window frame out of his fur with a scowl of anger. "I actually paid for that."

"You really think I would tell you where I stashed it?" Wukong snarked back, smirking wide as he crossed his arms. "A Phantom Thief never reveals the location of their treasure trove to their marks."

"Wait wait wait-" MK said, holding up his hands and finally grabbing the attention of the two fighting immortal monkeys. "You just crashed through my window... because... You were his first heist mark... and Monkey King's first successful heist was your couch?"

"Got it in one, Bud!" Wukong said with a laugh, not seeming to care that Macaque was slowly stewing in more and more anger and frustration. "I wouldn't have even been noticed if he hadn't come home part way through either, he's normally out later than that."

"You sent me a calling card you dumb ass!" Macaque yelled, falling into a fighting stance. "Just because you got lucky enough to get away last time-"

"You call this luck?" Wukong yelled back with a laugh, smirking as he pulled something out of his sleeve and tossed it at Macaque. "No, this is all skill!"

MK barely had time to register what happened before Wukong grabbed him and covered his eyes and a tiny explosion and a pained yelp sounded behind them as they jumped out his broken window.

"SUN WUKONG YOU GET BACK HERE BEFORE I CAN SEE AGAIN OR ELSE!" Macaque yelled, right before another pained yelp was heard. "Holy shit, Kid, why do you have so much stuff on your floor, who lives like this, I can't even WALK in here!"

MK never got to answer or be offended at the immortal before he was tossed over Wukong's shoulder as he made a break for it running through alleyways at breakneck speed before Pigsy's Noodles was no longer even in sight.

They stopped eventually, the immortal monkey putting MK down before looking around to make sure they hadn't been tailed by the other immortal. After a couple minutes it was clear that Macaque had either not followed him due to the blinding effects of the flash paper or had not been able to catch their trail. The two of them each breathed a sigh or relief, looked at each other...

And immediately burst into laughter.

They couldn't help it! It was just... so ridiculous! All that over a heisted couch. Pigsy was sure to be upset at the damage to MK's apartment but given Mystic Monkey Business and all he was certain that the fact it was only a broken window this time would be a decent balm on the damage.

"Macaque is going to get you back for this," MK managed to get out through laughs. "We lost him and now he's going to find another way to get you back, I know it."

"What's he gonna do, steal my couch?"

"HE STOLE. MY COUCH."

"How'd he even get to the mountain?"

"HE. STOLE. MY. COUCH!"

"I think you're missing the bigger issue he-"

"HESTOLEMYCOUCH!"

"I KNOW STOP YELLING!"

MK slapped a hand over Wukong's mouth, only barely cutting off and muffling the scream of disbelief and frustration that the Monkey King let out at the state of things.

"Why are you focused on the fact that Macaque stole your couch and not the fact that he somehow got into the part of Mount Huaguo that we have to let someone into, BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE. and for some reason he ONLY stole your couch?"

"Oh, he's broken in before," Wukong answered once he pried MK's hand away from his face. "But I can't believe that asshole! I stole his couch as a joke, stealing mine back is just petty."

"What do you mean he's broken in before?" MK continued, voice tense and high and totally not at all feeling suddenly very anxious about this new knowledge. "Macaque's just been able to come and go as he pleases this whole time?"

"Yeah, kinda. Not exactly as he pleases but he can just come in I guess."

"These are the kinds of things you need to tell your student- I thought we talked about proper communication as one of our first lessons!"

"... oops?"

"When did you get a new couch?" Red Son asked with a raised brow, watching as the immortal monkey lounging on it swished his tail back and forth in contentment.

"Heisted it," Macaque answered with a smirk. "Totally worth it. But next time I'm stealing Peach's tv too, this is so comfy I could use some proper entertainment."

"YOU STOLE SUN WUKONG'S COUCH???"

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #phantom thieves au #gen fic #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #mk #qi xiaotian #humor fic #fanfic #prompt fill #this was WAY too much fun to write #i based the pendant partially on something from an episode of detective conan #not a kaitou kid episode though just a regular one #as well as some magic tricks I've seen close up magicians perform as well

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years

Text

Remembrance AU: The First Time

So this isn't the first one I wrote for this "series", but this is the first one chronologically, so I decided this will be the first to be posted. Depending on how well this one and the other two I've written do will help me to decide if this is an AU I wanna continue or not. Feel free to send in asks and stuff about the AU!

Warnings: Violence ; Death

Words: 3.5k

You hated the nether. The thick dry heat choked you in a way that made you feel as if you had stepped into a wildfire in the middle of a desert, but worse. The smell of sulfur seemed to cling to your clothes in a way that made you gag every time. To be honest, you probably wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t appreciate the piglins. You were able to barter with them much easier than the villagers back home, and they had much better stuff. You snorted at the thought, and the large brute before you copied the action.

Home.

The village you had set up base in wasn’t really your home. Just a convenient place that you had set up your bed. A bed which now sat on the other side of the portal you had built on the lower level of the bastion below.

You were grateful to have access to the only thing you really needed in the nether. Trading with the piglins gave you a way to achieve more ender pearls so you wouldn’t have to kill the poor enderman on the surface. You held out another gold ingot to the brute, but he didn’t take it immediately. He was looking at something to the side of your exchange and you turned your head slightly to look too.

The heat of the nether was nothing compared to the warmth that immediately bubbled in your stomach. Everything seemed to fizzle out of existence aside from the large man that had entered the bastion. Which turned out to be your mistake.

Searing pain in your back made you grunt as you were knocked forward into the brute in front of you. You turned to see a ghast behind you that breathed another fireball. The piglin, upset at suddenly being “attacked” started to slice at you with its sword and you hissed at the damage you were taking. You didn’t want to kill the piglin. It didn’t understand that it had been an accident.

You cursed at yourself. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had been all this time, and your health felt dangerously low. Another hit from the explosion of the fireball and a swipe at the brute’s sword replaced the pain with nothing as you died.

You cursed when you woke up in your bed next to the portal. The mattress felt almost too soft as you struggled to remove yourself from it and fling yourself back through the portal. You flew up the steps, your feet taking them two at a time and you hoped your items hadn’t despawned.

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief when you saw Technoblade examining your items. You had been fast enough. You jogged up behind him, a grin on your lips, both relieved for your items and excited to finally meet him. “Hey!”

You immediately jolted to a stop at the sword now placed at your throat, but you could help but laugh at yourself. You should have expected that. You held up your hands in what you believed to be a non-threatening manner as you looked up at him.

“Sorry about that! I’m [y/n].” You watched him slowly lower the blade, eyes behind the mask narrowed at you. He looked both exactly how you expected and not how you expected at all.

“Technoblade.” You couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from your lips as you moved around him to collect your items and put back on your armor. Who hadn’t heard of him?

“Man, I hate ghasts. I worked really hard to save up all those levels, and now I have nothing.” You took a cursory glance at your levels. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have two. Fat load of help that would be. Glad I don’t need to enchant anything for a long while, hm?” You turned back to him once you had your golden boots buckled. You were totally going to take advantage of this opportunity to follow him like a puppy. No one else you had met seemed to actually understand you and the chance at an interaction with someone had you almost crawling up the walls. “Where are we off to, then?”

Techno just stared at you. You were much shorter than he was. At least a foot, if not more. How tall was he again? In this form, about seven feet, he thought. You were very short compared to him. The thought made his lips twitch before he turned, walking in the direction of where he last remembered there to be a fortress.

Chat was going crazy at the discovery of this new anomaly. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met people he didn’t share a couple lifetimes with before. He had met plenty where they just didn’t meet in a life or two, such as George or Schlatt. But never someone he had shared none with. No one here seemed to speak of anyone new either. It was always the same people, a different storyline. As if DreamXD -or maybe Kristen? He had only met her once, but she had been very kind. Would this be her department, then?- just kept recycling their souls into new realities like a -what did that lifetime call it? A movie? Chat confirmed his thought- played for their own entertainment until they got bored and it was onto the next.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were talking again, but the roar in his brain was louder, so he didn’t pay too much attention to your words, despite how the soft timbre of your voice made something bubble in his chest. What were you even doing here? He had seen you trading with the piglins before your death, -you had respawned so quickly, anyone else in this lifetime took two or three days but you seemed to reappear in what felt like seconds- so why were you following him now?

Chat’s whispers echoed through his mind.

I wonder who they are.

They can’t be older than Tommy.

Maybe we should kill them again, see what happens this time.

Wilbur will want to know about this.

They said their name was [y/n]?

Maybe they’re like Phil.

Pog.

Blood for the blood god.

They’re probably closer to Wilbur’s age.

Stab them.

Jump off the edge.

Push them off the edge.

Techno, will you call my friend Rachel a nerd?

All warfare is based on deception.

His fingers twitched around his sword at the thought. Was this all a trick? It couldn’t be.

Could it?

He glanced at you once more, focusing on your words, finally.

“-like they seem to notice, y’know? I just kind of walk into their houses, take from their chests, and move on. Hell, I even put my bed in, I think the library? Not one of them batted an eye! It’s almost scary, to be honest. I can loot their things, sleep in their beds, practically dismantle their homes, and I get nothing but a “Hnn.” in response!” A small pout found its way to your lips and Techno hummed in response. This seemed to be what you wanted to hear because a smile replaced the pout and you looked up at him. “So where are we going again?”

“Fortress.” His words were short, tone clipped, as if he didn’t know if you were gonna shove him into the lava, or if that was what he planned to do to you. It didn’t matter, to be honest. You were just thrilled he was letting you accompany him. Heart soaring at the feeling of interacting with another intelligent being once more. He even seemed to be listening as you rambled! That had to be a good thing, right? You hadn’t really met anyone else on the server yet, aside from distantly watching Dream, George, and Sapnap build the large building that stood in the center of what they dubbed the Dream SMP. A small giggle fell from your lips. That would have been a cute name had one of the members not been named it. Rather, it just felt self-centered because of that. You were mildly afraid of approaching the trio. You were almost afraid of how they would react when they met you.

You edged closer to the bridge to the fortress with Technoblade and you felt your heart speed up a little. Ash floated across your vision and you felt it hard to breathe for a moment. The sweat that made your clothes stick to your skin under your armor made you feel clammy. You had only been in one of these once since coming here when you wanted to try your hand at learning how to craft potions and needed blaze rods.

That.. hadn’t worked out in your favor.

You had only had one set of diamond armor, and you hadn’t even enchanted it at the time. When the wither skeletons had overtaken you and murdered you without a thought, you remembered racing back and trying to get your items back. This had only led to yet another death, however. Your eyebrows furrowed as the question entered your mind.

How many times had you died?

You remember when you first came to this world, waking up next to a river with a chest filled with bread, a map, a wooden axe, and a few other paltry items sitting before you surrounded by torches. The gentle babble of the water easing you awake and the smell of fresh flowers floated through the breeze. You almost didn’t mind the ants that were crawling on the ledge just a tad too close to you. You remember being so confused and the days being so hard at first. You didn’t even sleep the first couple days because you hadn’t found a village yet. The stupid phantoms that had attacked you had made you way more aggressive than you had meant to be. But you were tired and you were frustrated and you just wanted to find a stupid village already. You had been residing in the one you were in now since you had first found it your third day here. The first two deaths happening on your second day. One because of said phantoms and one because you had fallen from a cliff. You were devastated at the lack of supplies and progress when you just respawned next to that river, awaking to a few scattered zombies and a skeleton or two. You had dug yourself a hole and cried in it while you waited for sun-up. Many more deaths had happened since, but you couldn't seem to be able to remember the number now.

You hadn’t planned on returning to a fortress until you had better equipment, fearing another death. Something better than your diamond armor and golden boots and your sole netherite sword, but who were you to miss the opportunity to go exploring with The Blood God? Besides you had a bow with Power IV you had stolen from a skeleton that had been in the village. You didn’t know how durable it still was, but it was better than nothing, right?

The rattling of bones brought you out of your thoughts. Already a couple of blazes and some wither skeletons were approaching. You drew your sword, heart hammering in your chest. This wouldn’t be like last time. You had Technoblade to back you up. The top PVPer. The winner of the potato war. The Blood God. You could do this. You could do this.

A lucky swing from one of the wither skeletons caught you in the arm and you hissed as the wither effect immediately took hold and you jolted at the feeling. It was numbing. You felt nauseated. Another hit and you gasped when you felt your health drop to a dangerous level. You sliced up with your sword, removing its head from its spine with a gnarly “click” and you immediately moved out of fire to drink some milk and eat a couple of the pieces of salmon you had brought with you.

Whilst you were letting your health regenerate, you removed your bow from your inventory, aiming at one of the blazes, only to watch something white hit it first. You hesitated, looking towards Technoblade, only to see him ignoring the wither skeletons that were approaching you and focusing on throwing snowballs at the flaming mob. Your lips twitched. Fine. You’d take care of the skeletons, then.

You grabbed your sword once more and began attacking the skeletons in front of you with reckless abandon. You were growing mildly frustrated. Your arm hurt now and Techno seemed to be leaving you on your own to fight off the horde that was slowly amassing. There had only been four of them at first, but now four more had sprinted over to join the fray when they saw the two of you. Now, minus the one you had already taken care of and the two Technoblade had killed within the first ten seconds of their approach, there were five. You winced when you heard the sound of both blazes being taken care of and you hadn’t even killed one more.

‘-so she throws this apple, she just chucks this apple and says like, only the hottest goddess can take this apple.’ Chat loved it when he told them mythology stories, despite them being there when he had read it.

Greek mythology pog.

Semi-demi god for the win!

Speaking of discord, how’s the new person doing?

Persephone is definitely the hottest.

At the mention of you, Techno turned his attention to the sound of metal hitting metal and was surprised to see you still standing there, despite being crowded by wither skeletons. Just another thing to tack onto the list about you. He watched you kill another one, followed by a yelp as you took another hit, the wither effect turning the flesh around your wound a purplish black before you killed one more. You backed up on the bridge, drinking more milk and eating another piece of fish. He could see how the action pained you, but you were resilient.

They’re stupid.

Look at them wave that sword around, do they even know what they’re doing?

They haven’t died again yet?

They can’t be one of Schlatt’s people.

Save them.

Technoblade, wasn’t Eris the daughter of Zeus?

He decided to wait and see what you did. If you died, there was more for him to loot. If you didn’t, then it was a lesson. Either way, he wouldn’t have to worry about protecting you further into the fortress. His nose twitched at the smell of your blood and of rot that seemed to ooze off the skeletons. He still needed more wither skulls.

The remaining four attacked you again, despite your low health, and you felt as if you were going to cry. You hated the nether.

Two more were dispatched a lot faster than the first ones had been and you swallowed. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you felt just the slightest bit more confident in yourself.

Two more left.

You ducked at a swing, movement still slow. You only had one more milk left, and that scared you. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, get hit again with their stupid swords and their stupid wither effect. You sliced with your sword, hooking the metal into the rib cage in front of you and sending the skeleton careening into the other just as it swung down, making the attack miss.You flinched at the sound of metal hitting stone, but you recovered faster than the skeletons in front of you. You could do this.

Another hit, your sword cutting through the skeleton’s vertebrate and killing it. You could do this.

One more.

Your sword was met with metal as you blocked its attack and you grunted, knocking it back. You could do this!

A downward slice had you throwing yourself back onto the side of the bridge as you dodged. You couldn’t die. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Technoblade again. You shoved another piece of salmon into your mouth as you backed up. You really hoped there weren’t any more blazes around. Or more skeletons waiting for you. You shoved yourself off the wall, hitting the wither skeleton with your shoulder to knock it back again before you struck once more, across the neck, beheading it.

The sight of three wither skulls in your inventory made you fall to your knees and you let out a sigh in relief. Your arms ached. Your wounds ached. Your head ached. Your vision doubled for a moment. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You felt great, despite how dizzy you felt at the moment. You looked at Technoblade, hoping to find him still there.

He was leaned against the wall of the fortress, watching you with crossed arms.

Was he waiting on you?

The thought made you perk up and you scrambled to stand, rushing to him while holding the skulls. “Here! I got them all!”

He merely blinked at you as you handed him all three skulls you had gotten from your fight, placing them into his inventory after a moment. He didn’t speak, just turned to descend further in. Were you supposed to follow him?

You did anyways, feeling proud of yourself. He had waited on you!

The rest of the fortress had been like that. You continuously fighting wither skeletons, blazes, regular skeletons, zombified piglins, and magma cubes, only to turn over your loot to the large warrior who would patiently wait for you. You kept a few of the bars of gold, some diamonds, and one of the saddles you had found, but ultimately, you were just spare hands to help him. The experience you were gaining was more than enough, especially since he seemed to be listening to you ramble on and on. He’d occasionally hum or grunt in response, but not much more than that. It was still such a sweet sound in your ears, despite the constant crackle of fire that just filled the nether.

He didn’t speak when he decided he was finished, just started walking back the way you came and you immediately fell into step next to him when he walked past you.

Despite your exhaustion and the pain you felt, this trip felt more than worth it.

When you returned to the bastion where you two had first met, you grinned up at him.

Techno felt his breath catch in his throat at your smile. That smile almost made the sweltering brightness of the nether feel cold and dark. He had never had someone, aside from Tommy, smile at him with such warmth. No one had a smile like yours. They were all weighed heavy with the memories from lifetimes no longer in reach. But you? You were so tired from accompanying him, still wounded from fighting for him. Aside from the couple small treasures you had hidden away, you had given him everything. There was really no reason for you to have gone with him when you received virtually nothing in return. And now you smiled at him like that? You were-

TechnoSIMP.

Look at how cute they are.

They’re stupid.

Take them back with us.

You should give them something for helping.

Hug them.

Awww look at them!

All warfare is based on deception.

He stopped that thought before it could fully finish.

“I should get going. I don’t know how dark it is and I want a bath.” He nodded at you. “I’ll catch you some other time, alright? Don’t be afraid to come by sometime if you need a buddy again, okay?”

He only hummed in response and watched you glide down the stairs of the bastion to a portal he had never noticed before.

A buddy? You weren’t a buddy. What did he really know about you?

You respawned faster than anyone else he had met. There hadn’t been another chance to test that, but you seemed unphased with your death. When you held up your hands, he couldn’t see the usual hearts on your wrist that they all shared. Even when normal members lost a life, he’s noticed that the normally red hearts are cracked and black. Phil himself had one on the center of his wrist. But yours were bare from the mark. You weren’t immortal, were you? Had he come across a god?

He chuckled at the thought.

Such a tiny god compared to him.

For now, he had to return to Pogtopia. He had to tell Wilbur about you. Perhaps write to Phil and ask if he knew anything about people with no or unlimited lives. He would repay your kindness at a later date.

He only hoped you wouldn’t be on the other side of this war.

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x reader #platonic!technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #unsure if this will be a series or not?#if it does end up as one #might post multiple non canon romance options #tw: violence #tw: death

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sunnywritings · 3 years

Text

you’re amusing

request: n/a pairing: pirate!dream x reader genre: angst/fluff word count: 6k warnings: fighting, bloodshed(not graphic) summary: captainpuffy’s crew raids your island. :)

extra: i spent two days writing this and it turned out to be 14 pages on google docs- please- lmao. um anyways,, you can use my au if you’d like(just @ me if you do!!/credit me), feel free to ask questions and i’ll answer and give y’all the info i have on it! :) also this is NOT edited dsifds anyways!! (i dont usually add keep readings but this is so long im sorry please-) - - - - - - - - - -

winter was never kind to us, the only things that seemed to warm us all were the bread and pastries niki made, or the fire we’d have ever night. otherwise, the town was silent, not a peep from anyone simply trying to survive.

we were close, or at least some of us are. every now and then you’d here whispered talking, most now guarded and isolated from the first attack. tubbo and tommy were the two that spoke the most to each other, tommy commonly being seen entering and exiting tubbo’s florist shop, except not always with flowers.

he’d leave with weapons now, newly crafted and made swords or arrows, shields sometimes even. it wasn’t new but it was still shocking that this is what the town had come to. what used to be a lively, social town now filled with the cold, bitterness of a half victory.

wilbur hadn’t been seen for a couple of weeks, the only signs he was still in there were the fact patrols were still being sent out. tommy, techno, and purpled all wandering the island, weapons drawn and looking out for that one boat.

‘masked raiders’ is what they called them, the members rather than the ship. the title was earned when their raid leader had become recognizable for their white eye cover/bandana and mocking smile.

no, the ship itself was called ‘ethereal fury’. led by the infamous captain puffy. legends say it’s hundreds of years old, passed on to their family like an heirloom, yet no one knew who would lead it next.

you stared out over the waters, one leg over the cliff side and the other tucked up, elbow leaning against it and palm in hand. your bow sat beside you, the bundle of arrows scattered around messily. organization was never your strong suit, but aim was. tubbo had crafted you personalized throwing knives, your initials craved into the handle.

your hand clasped around one of the knives, running your thumb delicately over your initials. glancing up at the sky, you took note of the time, pressing a hand against the ground and standing. purpled would be home soon, and you needed to check him over for wounds. he was your brother, as reckless as he was, he never learned to take care of himself.

with a sigh you walked around, picking up the discarded arrows, sliding your bow over your back. the string pressed against your front, though it became an invisible, phantom of a feeling when you turned around, hearing noise from the waters.

around another island in the distance pulled a ship, not too far away from your home island. quickly you pulled a shrinkable scope from your pocket, an intention fundy had given you to test, looking around the boat for a symbol.

and there it was, the ram horns on the front of the ship. quickly a gasp left you, from your post you ran for the watchtower. the cliff was a watchpoint and practice area, one you commonly went to.

you rushed up the mossy watchtower stairs, almost stumbling. finally, you reached the bell, grabbing the string inside and frantically ringing the bell.

it’s noise rung out, hurting your ears, yet you continued to hit it and let the sharp sound fill the island. immediately you heard the upsurge from the side, hearing the draw gate start to close and defense barriers begin to set up. techno and tommy must’ve been closing in when you hit the bell, what ironically and unfortunately perfect timing.

the cold wind stung at your skin and face as you raced back down the stairs and to the cliffside. you kneeled, pulling your bow back out and drawing an arrow from your quill. your sight was aimed down at the ship, keeping a steady aim and stare on the offensive, and enemy raiders.

the ship began to slow, and you could see the cannon windows begin to open. steadying your grip on the arrow you aimed slightly up, breathing in before releasing the arrow, exhaling while you shut.

the arrow zoomed through the air, piercing directly into the opening of the cannon. the window immediately shut on that opening, and you took out another arrow, quickly changing positions to be further in the shrubbery. loading another arrow you aimed at the pirate ship again, watching them begin to dock. the moment you saw a sign of movement you fired the arrow, repeating your breathing process. it hit against the board that let them down, bouncing off and into the waters, though you had been inches away from hitting someone's foot.

you glanced up slightly from where you had been aiming, the white sticking out against the rest of the outfit. pain shot through your lungs at the aggressive and sharp inhale you took. the leader of the masked raider’s was staring directly up at the cliffside, though not at you, but rather at the watchtower.

quickly you rolled into the bushes, back against a tree while peering out at them. you saw two of the raiders jump out, one throwing a fireball at the wooden defenses and the other throwing two potions down. their swords gleamed, even from how far back you were. suddenly, you heard a familiar warping sound.

drawing your attention over, you watched a black and red hooded figure land, glancing over the town. they stood beside the watchtower, only about twenty feet away from you. slowly you leaned a hand down, grabbing a pebble. keeping it held firmly in your hands you reared your hand back, throwing it at the shrubbery on the other side of the watchtower.

that got their attention, and you got a good glimpse of their face. a half demon, black horns prominently protruding from their forehead and white eyes. you bit your tongue to prevent any noise, pulling a throwing knife out of its sheath. it was silent for a moment before the half demon began to walk over to investigate, sword drawn.

you had to block out the noises of the battle below in order to focus, inhaling softly and slowly. tunnel vision took its effect, and everything around you became noiseless, void while you zoned in on this half demon’s back. the knife flew from your hand, embedding yourself into their shoulder.

“agh!” the half demon shouted, flinching forward and dropping their sword before spinning around, growling. clearly they were angry, ripping the throwing knife from their shoulder and looking at it. their blood was white like their eyes, and while they seemed focused on the throwing knife you drew the dagger you had strapped to your thigh.

from where you were you could hear the half demon’s breathing, before their gaze flickered to the shrubbery you were in. your eyes met, and before you realized what you were doing, you had sprung out of the bushes, lunging at the half demon.

their grip on the knife changed, clasping tightly around your throwing knife. while you swung to the side in an attempt to hit them, they swiped at you. the knife clipped your shoulder, but you had managed to slash across their leg.

you rolled away, on your good shoulder, the adrenaline numbing the sting from the wound. the half demon took a step back to look at you, seemingly unfazed from the wound. they slowly took steps towards you, while you stood there, shifting your feet into a fighting stance.

suddenly they rushed at you, stabbing the knife down at you. your knife raised, meeting the knife in the middle. while you both struggled to push the other knife away, you rose a foot, kicking the half demon in the stomach. they flinched, gasping while being kicked back.

your throwing knife dropped, and while you quickly moved, ducking to pick it up, the half demon threw their own knife at you. it landed in your shoulder, which brought a gasp of pain from you.

glancing over, you saw the half demon running at you again, sword drawn, having picked it up when they were kicked away. you stared, rage now burning in your stomach. when they took several swipes at you, you managed to duck or back away from the strikes. when the barrage of hits ended you swung forward, slamming the handle of your knife into their head. the half demon got knocked down, and before they could get back up again, you slammed into their stomach. you hit the handle against their head once, twice, and finally three times before they were down for the count.

standing up you inhaled shakily, reaching a hand up and ripping out the knife. you gasped again, stifling a cry of pain by biting your lip. tears burned in your eyes before you rolled the half demon over, slowly taking all their weapons. you hesitated before grabbing the half demon by the back of the hood, dragging them over to the watchtower. you propped them up against a wall inside, leaving their practically emptied bag there.

new sword in hand, you walked out, the pain slowly returning from your dying adrenaline. returning to the cliffside over town, you stared down at the battle, panting softly. the battle reigned on, techno fighting the masked raider’s leader, tommy fighting the one that started the fire, and purpled fighting the one that splashed potions. from what you could see the battle was in the town’s favor, philza even shooting arrows down from above the town’s biggest building, the townhouse, where wilbur, fundy, and philza all lived.

with a sigh you readied yourself to go down the cliff, shaking out your arms, not without a spike of pain in your left one. slowly, you used your heels to ground you to the earth, sliding your way down without hurting yourself too badly. scrapes now littered your hands when you hit the ground, quickly running into the town.

the battle was louder now, metal clashing against metal and the sounds of the crackling fire. you ducked beside the bakery, peering inside for niki.

when you looked inside you saw her behind the counter, the traveler jack inside with her. they seemed to be talking, jack gesturing to the battle outside while niki shook her head. she saw you, pausing before waving. jack turned to look at you, scowling, which seemed to be his natural expression. you waved back before looking back at the battle, huffing.

the fire was spreading uncomfortably close to the townhouse, though philza seemed fine from above. it was fundy you were worried about, less than about purpled but still worried. the fox hybrid had been taught to fight, but hadn’t completed his training, and was even a few years older than purpled. he’d been babied for so long by wilbur that he hadn’t gotten the chance to train.

glancing around at the battle, you made sure all of them were distracted before running, sprinting across the open field. the clinking of the swords grew louder as you ran past them. unfortunately, the moment you got close to the townhouse, you heard the loud sound of cannon fire. the noise pierced the air, a ringing noise now sitting in your ears as you watched the cannon ball hit directly into the townhouse.

“no!” you screamed, voice cracking. the impact knocked you off your feet and threw the sword away from you, though you scrambled back up, you were forced to watch the townhouse crumble and fall. philza managed to swoop down with his wings. “phil, fundy’s still in there!” you shouted at the advisor, who paused with wide eyes.

“get him! i need to help techno!” he shouted back before dashing off, not even giving you a chance to rebuke. you exhaled heavily before running into the burning remains of the townhouse, roughly scrambling through while coughing from the smoke.

lifting the broken wood, “fundy! where are you!” you shouted, coughing afterwards. faintly you heard him call back, a weak ‘help!’ from within the rubble.

dashing over, you quickly began to remove the wood, ignoring the sting from the fire. it burnt your skin, licking at it to create new wounds while you simply continued to move. finally you found the fox hybrid, grabbing his hand and pulling him out. his fur was burnt slightly, tips singed. you put a hand on his head, forcing him to duck with you. “c’mon! this place is gonna collapse!” taking hold of his hand you rushed fundy out of the building, with him stumbling behind you.

when you both managed to get out, only a few moments later did the building groan, the rest finally collapsing. your hands shot to your knees, crouching while you coughed aggressively. fundy pat at your back, covering his own cough with an arm. “thank you.” his voice was hoarse, yet almost broken sounding. you glanced up at him, nodding before walking a little bit away. picking up the half demon’s sword, you handed it to fundy. “protect yourself.” even your voice was hoarse, strained from the smoke and coughing.

he nodded at you before both of you turned to the battle still raging on. ringing set in your ears again, the pain coming back like a tsunami. you winced, crying out in pain before collapsing to your knees. burn wounds littered across your hands and upper arm, the stab wound to your shoulder not doing any better from the ash that now rests atop it.

your breathing had become labored, shaky on top of that. fundy rummaged through a he had, taking out a healing potion. he kept a hand on your back, “tilt your head back.” you glanced over at him before doing as told. the fox hybrid pushed the bottle to your mouth, pouring half of it for you to drink. you gulped it down like it was water and you were going through a drought. leaning your head back forward, he drank the rest of the potion. “thank you.” you muttered, able to feel the energy returning to your body, watching the burn scars fade slightly and feel the stab wound stop bleeding and scab over.

he hummed, removing his hand quickly after that while discarding the bottle. “now let’s get back to this battle right?” fundy grinned, one of his fox ear’s flicking. you smiled back up at him, standing up and taking out your dagger. “we got some raiders to beat the shit out of.”

together, you rushed towards the battle, though fundy diverged from you, running to philza. you kept running straight, sprinting to where purpled was fighting, though his opponent’s back was to you.

just as you were above to slash at him you heard the call out, “george! behind you!” it came from the one tommy was fighting.

the one now known as ‘george’, spun around, swinging his sword. you ducked back, sword swiping over your stomach and head. you spun, pressing your hands off the ground and kicking him into the stomach, knocking him back towards purpled. while you landed your brother slashed george in the side, rearing a hand back and punching him square in the face while he was in shock.

his glasses crumbled to the floor, now broken, blood dripping down after it. he gasped, and while you moved around george to purpled’s side you could see why. george’s nose had been broken from purpled’s punch, and your brother still wasn’t letting up. purpled landed another punch into his gut, shoving george back again. the enemy raider let out a small fry of pain before punching back at purpled, hitting him in the shoulder.

it was slow motion when you watched the raider’s leader appear behind george, and as george ducked, the leader’s sword swung towards purpled. you dived forward, knocking purpled out of the way. the sword hit empty air while you stood back up, glaring at the masked raider. their head turned to stare at you before one of their hands rested on george’s shoulder. george glanced at the leader before running off into the battle.

you stared at the masked one, or the bandana, shifting the grip on your dagger. right now you really wished you hadn’t given fundy that sword. it was silence between you two before he bolted forward, swinging at you. you backed up, ducking and dodging his rapid swinging.

purpled shouted, “catch!” you glanced over only for a second, dropping the dragged and catching the sword, spinning on your foot and clashing your swords together. the clink rang out, the renowned, mocking smile forming on the leader’s expression.

you stared flatly, glaring before smiling. the masked leader paused when you smiled, quickly spinning around and hitting purpled’s dagger away. with his back turned, you slashed down it, cutting through his shirt and drawing blood.

the masked leader paused before aggressively swinging at him, pivoting and slashing the blade at you. you bounced his blade off, taking steps back while he took steps forward, making aggressive slashes at you.

the tip of his sword hit you every once in a while, making shallow cuts first to your arm and then one to your chest. finally something intervened, though it definitely wasn’t what you hoped for.

“stop the fighting or he’s fucking dead!” the fire started called, sword to someone’s neck. you and the masked raider both paused, looking over. fundy was beaten up, bleeding from his lip and nose, slashes made down his arms and a couple on his legs.

you gasped, “fundy-“ your voice started, but before you could move the masked raider’s sword was put in front of you like a wall. slowly you looked over at them, staring with wide eyes. purpled came to your side, weapon discarded and glaring up at the masked raider. “back up.” he commanded, but his demand fell upon deaf ears.

the masked raider continued to stare at you while one of his companions shouted, “drop your weapons and give up! one fucking arrow or knife comes at me and he’s gone!” the sword moved closer to fundy’s neck, who managed to hold his head back slightly, his eyes wide, mouth tightly closed, and arms drawn in.

“let him go-“ your voice was quiet at first, before your fist nestled around the grass below you, though it was practically dead. “let him go!” you shouted, voice breaking halfway through, tears finding their way to your eyes. “he’s just a teenager how the fuck can you do this! you’re threatening to kill us for what? greed! fucking satisfaction you sick fucks!” you continued to scream, even when the masked raider moved his sword closer to your neck.

tears spilled over your eyes, “if you’re gonna do it then fucking do it! but leave him alone! fuck off! we’re a small island! a fucking family that you made distrust each other from the first attack! what’re you gonna do? stab me?” you reached up, grabbing his sword and bringing it to your neck. your grip was tight enough to cut your hand, blood dripping down the blade. “do it then you fucking sick prick.” from behind the bandana you could feel them staring at you, as if actually contemplating it.

their sword dropped as they walked forward, crouching down and grabbing you by the collar of the shirt. they smiled, “drop the fox!” they called, holding an amused tone of voice. “we’re taking this one.” as they spoke they hoisted you up, lifting you slightly off the ground. you squirmed, and as much as you hated it you had to accept they were stronger than you.

“no you aren’t!” purpled shouted, swinging the sword you had discarded towards their arm. another sword intervened, but not by who either of you expected.

wilbur scowled at purpled, pushing your brother away. “stand down purpled.” he ordered. purpled opened his mouth to speak, but wilbur didn’t give him the chance. “you heard me.” he glared before looking over at the masked raider.

“leave.” was all he said, turning his back on the masked raider, walking across the burnt town-square and over to where fundy had been dropped.

the masked raider tossed you over his shoulder, where you wiggled, hitting at their back while cussing bitterly. the raider who had started the fire was handed a pouch of gold while wilbur took fundy, leading the fox hybrid away from the raider.

the raider whistled, “and thank you-“ the masked raider shouted after a moment, “sapnap! c’mon we don’t have time for this!” they called. ‘sapnap’ groaned, rolling his eyes before going along. “and see you all another time!” he mock bowed while the masked raider walked up the board.

you hit at their back with closed fists, wiggling. “let me go!” your voice echoed, screaming, though no one listened. no one in the town could look at you, the only ones who did make eye contact were purpled and techno, one who looked regretful and the other looked guilty. both were wounded, techno more so than purpled, before they were gone from your sight.

the board was hauled onto the ship when sapnap got back on, george and the half-demon getting their wounds tended to as you were set down. the masked raider set you down against a pole while the boat got moving. feeling the boat lurch forward, you moved with it, wincing when your head hit the back of the pole.

your eyes closed, biting your tongue before opening your eyes. when you opened them you saw the captain staring at you, ram horns decorated with gold jewelry. you yelped, trying to flinch back even further from the captain.

alas, that did nothing as she only grew closer. you shut your eyes tight, tucking your chin and grabbing onto your own wrist tightly. the feeling of a hand on your chin brought back all your fear, and it only worsened when you were forced to look up, opening your eyes out of shock. she stared down at you, studying your expression and how you reacted. you were forced to stare back, and your fear mixed with anger burned into your eyes and stomach, boiling like a geyser.

“good job dream, now we have leverage.” she hummed, smiling. “welcome to ethereal fury.” captain puffy stared down at you before letting go, simply taking a few steps back. her sword shifted as she moved, and with a snap of her fingers you were being picked up again, this time by strangers. ‘dream’ seemed to be the masked raider, who stood beside the captain.

the new people holding you were up some not out on the battlefield, you assumed they were behind the canons or simple helpers. one was a half endermen and the other looked more dead inside, and bored, than sapnap did behind dream.

“now i find it awfully impressive you managed to take down bad,” that sentence got the half endermen to tighten their grip on you, “but i’m not all that happy you did it to begin with.” puffy turned to look at you, unsheathing one of her daggers. “now you can either tell us everything about yourself and the island,” the tip of the dagger pressed against your lips, applying pressure on your lower one, “or you can decide to not speak at all.”

your jaw fell loose, and the light pressure applied to your mouth made it fall open slightly. the cold of the blade shot through your head, the metallic taste was a bitter reminder of what was happening. she removed the knife after a moment, to give you the opportunity to speak.

you looked up at her slowly, glaring. “your men tried to kill one of my friends,” your voice was low, words slow, “so frankly, you can suck my fucking dick.” a smile drew onto your face, “because at least mine is bigger than half your men’s.”

puffy stared back at you, and while the fear and loss of confidence dwelled in your stomach, you were determined to keep staring back.

finally, she laughed loudly as well. your expression and body slacked at the noise, eyes widening. “that’s a good one kid, a good one.” puffy leaned slightly down to look at you, smiling. “you’re amusing, so full of spite it seems.” she stood back up, sheathing the knife. “i like this one.”

dream rose a brow before scoffing, him and sapnap walking over to george and ‘bad’. “release them.” puffy ordered, which got everyone’s attention.

slowly you were let go, you stretching by rolling your arms, though you winced right after. your arm was still sore from where bad had stabbed you. hesitantly you glanced around, unsure of what to do now that you were let go, though puffy brought your attention back to her. “alright kid, now you’re not one of us so don’t get the wrong idea, but you’ll definitely have to stay in the cell for a couple of days.” those words brought your scowl back.

“well if your so-called dream hadn’t insisted on taking me you wouldn’t have to worry about me.” you grumbled. puffy laughed again, though it sounded more mocking this time.

puffy grabbed you by the wounded shoulder, tugging you over. her nails dug into your wound, which made you wince out of pain, biting your lip and whimpering slightly. she let up on her grip, though she still dragged you down into the bottom of the boat, through a staircase. down there was one guy cracking jokes and the other laughing. the one making jokes was in blue, a scar down one of his eyes, and the other was in a colorful outfit, goggles on top of his head and a book in hand.

you stared at them for a moment, and eventually they both looked over at you, pausing in their conversation. puffy continued to tug you forward, and as you passed them they both returned to conversation, though more hushed this time.

when you looked forward again you saw puffy pulling you towards a cell, which was quickly opened with one of her keys. you inhaled sharply when she pushed you inside, landing on your side.

you sat up as puffy spoke, “now if you behave for a little we might consider letting you join, or return to your companions.” she locked the door again, spinning the key. quickly you went to the bars, shaking them a couple of times. you knew it was futile, only the width of your arm could fit between those bars.

moving back in the cell you sat against the wall, sighing while tilting your head back. this was gonna be a long few days wasn’t it.

- - - - - - - - - -

you woke up to the sound of the cell door opening, jolting up. pain shot through your shoulder when you sat up, staring with wide eyes at the door. dream stood there, bandages and gauze in his hands. he stared at you before clearing his throat, “puffy sent me to clean your wounds.” the raider muttered, walking towards you.

before he could reach you your back had hit the wall, distrust dwelling in your stomach. dream’s posture was slack, relaxed and unafraid, clearly he didn’t take you as a threat for now. no words were spoken as you slowly turned, huffing while showing him your back first.

the sound of him sitting down was the only noise in the cell, besides hearing your own breathing. when he stopped moving the noise of his breathing became clear as well, and oddly your breaths had been in sync. you flinched when a rag touched your shoulder wound, clearly he had doused it in gauze to clean and disinfect it. he stopped moving for a moment, waiting before slowly wiping the rag down the cut. it wasn’t necessarily long, just a deep stab in your shoulder, which hurt like all hell.

after a moment of repetitive wipes to the wound, he removed the rag, using his other hand and tugging your sleeve down. you bit your lip to distract yourself, fidgeting with your hands. “lift your arm.” his voice was surprisingly soft, calm to an extent. you did as instructed, wincing, though all he did was begin to wrap the bandage around your shoulder. he lifted a hand, gently pulling your arm down after he’d looped the bandage around the front, pulling the rest down onto the flat of your wound.

he cut the bandage off, though his other hand stayed on your arm for a moment longer before he removed it. you shifted, turning around and holding your arms out. the gauze rag he had used was tainted with a light red, though he still used it to clean the shallow cuts to your arms. his hands moved slowly, and you watched him work, closely studying his expression, or lack thereof, and his hands.

when he finished bandaging your arms his head tilted to look you in the face. silence settled between you two, only the sound of your breathing filled the room.

“why’re you listening to puffy and helping me?” your voice came as a surprise to even yourself, having blurted out the words.

dream only stared back before a smile formed on his expression. “puffy was right. you are amusing.” his tongue clicked, raising a hand and pulling his bandana back. piercing, green eyes stared at you, bright somehow even in the darkness of the cell, a taunting, yet charming smile painting his face. “i’m glad i chose you over the fox.” dream’s words were practically purred out, voice filled with amusement. you couldn’t help the small blush that spread to your face, both from his eyes and sudden change in voice. “try and get some more sleep doll, we have a long couple of days to go.” he leaned towards you, grinning before patting the top of your head.

the bandana returned to cover his eyes after he gathered the gauze rag and bandages, walking out of the cell and locking it. you stared wide-eyed at the spot he once sat at and the cell door. a sharp breath left you, one you didn’t realize you were even holding. who the fuck was this raider? and who did dream think he was to do that to you? but most importantly, what did he mean?

- - - - - - - - - -

dream had visited you a couple more times over however long it had been. mainly he had been bringing you food and water, his excuse was always, ‘puffy sent me down to do this’. the more he used it the less you cared, you were tired of that excuse, you just wanted to know what he saw in you that had him coming back.

on the brighter side, you had met a few of the other crewmates. quackity and karl were the two you had passed before below deck, they seemed fun and even cracked jokes with you despite you being in a cell. they had made you laugh for the first time since you got here, it was refreshing too. you had also met ranboo, the half endermen, and punz, the one who had looked dead inside. though it was more you had heard his name was punz, from ranboo who had been coming down to check on some storage.

anytime you tried to ask how long you’d been down here you never got a certain answer, just an ‘uhhh’ and then a shrug, or being flat out ignored. at this rate you were tempted to shimmy out of the bars and see if there was a window you could jump out of. it felt like you could swim to shore with how long you had been cooped up in here.

you heard his footsteps again, he had come by enough for you to recognize them. turning, you looked at the cell door, focusing back in, seeing dream walking. something hopped in your stomach, seeing him carry a tray of food and a glass of water.

he opened the cell door again, “puffy had me-“ you interrupted him, “oh quit the fucking excuse, if you’re gonna bring me something at least tell me why you’re coming.” dream looked mildly shocked you had snapped at him, shoulders stiffening.

his jaw clenched while he set the food down, water beside it. you grabbed the food, picking up the bread and biting into it. cold as always, “well? you gonna talk or you gonna keep shoving your head into your ass?” you swoop your hand in a vague ‘get it going’ gesture.

dream paused again before laughing, sitting down. “i’ve always been interested in you. since that first raid we pulled on your island,” he started, while you slowly continued to eat, “when we lost and were retreating you didn't shout in victory like the other island protectors did. you turned around and helped the others of your island, checked on them, made sure they were fine, and began to help set up housing for those who had temporarily lost it from our cannonballs.” his words slowed considerably, pausing to breathe.

another smile formed on his expression, though not a mocking one, “something about you drew me in, something i can’t explain.” dream undid his bandana, resting it on one of his crossed legs. he leaned forward and towards you. his eyes scoured your expression, looking for something, which had developed a look of mild shock. you didn’t think he paid that much mind to you before they had taken you.

he leaned back, standing up and tying his bandana back on. dream offered a hand out, “your days in the cell are up.” a grin split across his expression when you took his hand, stumbling after pulling yourself up. “oh doll, you’re gonna love it here.”

dream led you out of the cell, careful to support you to avoid you falling or stumbling, even as you climbed the stairs. the daylight burned you eyes when you saw it again, squinting up at the clouds before glancing around. the crew had all gathered by the stairs, puffy in the front.

you paused to glance at dream, who was still grinning, before looking at puffy. she was smiling, taking strides towards you. the ram hybrid stared down at you for a moment, letting the silence ring out before she spoke.

“we want you to join ethereal fury.” puffy offered, “we all here believe you’d fit right in with us, training as a team, close as a family, and forming a bond with everyone here.” the ram hybrid hummed, finishing her small speech.

silence sat between you two again, the only noise was the waves rocking the boat. dream’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, but not as to intimidate you into joining, more of anticipation.

a small smile formed on your face, “sure.” why not try it? you’d probably return home eventually anyways, right? the crew burst out into cheers, karl running at you and pulling you into a hug, “welcome!” he shouted, shaking you slightly.

they were so trusting of you. but why? they’d barely known you, didn’t know if you’d say yes to joining. it made no sense to be this trustworthy.

dream pulled you away from karl, pulling you into a tight hug while quackity shouted something about getting the tequila and rum out. “welcome to the team, glad to have you here.” he shifted back slightly, using a hand to tilt your head up and kissing your forehead, smiling. a blush rapidly spread across your face, eyes widening slightly, and your posture and expression momentarily falling slack.

maybe this was the start of something new, a good new, and frankly? you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

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