#she'll just have the eldritch horrors in her mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-wishes · 26 days

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙

❤️‍🩹Characters: Yandere! MH Ghouls x GN! Reader

❤️‍🩹Summary: There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

❤️‍🩹Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Body horror in Frankie's part, slight gore and blood in the rest, angst, super cryptic.

❤️‍🩹Could be read as romantic or platonic.

I am a monster, for now and forever. I am a monster, what a terrible being.〜♡॰ॱ

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. ~❣✧❣

⚡︎Frankie Stein ⚡︎

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. Frankie is desperate to unravel it. To crack it open. She feels you in every one of her limbs. Feels you in the stems of her patchwork heart. That has to account for something right?

Your melancholy seeps through you, tainting the tiles in shades of gold.

Frankie blames the binding of your skin, she's always found it too loose.

Nothing extramundane, to tether your essence within yourself. She wouldn't mind taking you apart and stitching you back together. Recreating you into something perfect. She's grown wry of watching you crack your ribcage open, shoving astral celestials where your heart should be. You mutter things, things she doesn't understand, things she's scared she'll never understand. Her bones rattle, a rouge spark runs down her spine. Every piece of you haunts her...

Frankie use to believe, verily childishly, that parts of her were salvaged from you. She knows now that that's impossible, yet she still wishes every night for the childish dream to come true.

In many ways, Frankie has always been bound to you. Your first friend, your first confidant, your first punishment, your first comprehension. Even when you'd been too young to understand the cacophony of the world, you'd still know the two of you were connected.

It had only taken a lifetime to understand why.

Bones collapse into constellations. Somehow she feels you slipping away. Her slender fingers trace the stitches across the hollow of your chest. A meteoric reminder of her work. "It's okay I'll have you fixed in no time." Frankie doubts you find any truth in her incentive. You've always been drawn to pessimism. Still, she feeds the needle through skin and muscle. Praying she remembers the stronghold pattern her mother taught her.

The shade they used for your blood is too bright. You bleed in rivers,

flowing with no end insight. You wash away her sorrows with farfetched promises. Awakening a longing, she never knew she had.

Frankie wishes she could pluck out your spine. Kiss each vertebra like an iridescent pear. Maybe then your souls would tether, maybe then everything will go back to the way it once was. The needle snags across bones, marring your skin in star-kissed bruises. She pecks each one, muttering a sorry across cold flesh. You feel like home under her lips. A home she never got to know.

Yet the echoes of its brilliance linger faintly in the hearts of those who once knew its warmth.

Frankie smiles as your eyes crack open. Dizzy and distant, you've yet to notice your enhancements. The pieces of herself she tethered onto you. She wonders when you'll notice the new eye, the new leg, the mismatched fingers. Her heart sparks thumbing loudly in her ribcage.

She sinks down, by the operation table,skinning her knees. You feel like home, now more than ever.

Your fingers find her head, patting the matted hair, she smiles something solemn and forlorn. She trails her fingers over one of the stitches on your arm, prying her slender digits between the threads and into the gaping tissue. Her fingers release a spark, your body arches off the table. After all, blood has always been a good conductor for electricity. "It's just a power boost. You'll be right up in a few minutes." a giggle rips from her throat, as you mummble an acknowledgment. Eyes overcast with equal parts grief and glee.

She always knew she loved you how could she not? You'd been linked to her for as long as she had a conscience. You had always been her everything. Sometimes she wonders how you both ended up like this. Stitching pieces of yourselves into each other.

Frankie closes her eyes. Her mind struggling to regain control. Her deep breaths waver as she hears shifting from the table.

"It's alive..."

𓆩❤︎𓆪Draculaura𓆩❤︎𓆪

Draculaura can smell the ethereal ichor now. Maybe it's always been there. Hidden under bygone layers and golden sand. She wonders if now, knowing what you know, makes you see her as anything less. You're older now, smarter. Maybe you understand the world just a little bit better than she ever could.

Despite her gifted immortality, Draculaura likes to think that she's grown, too. No longer the little batling who faints at the mere scent of blood. Yet the urge to vomit is still there, an acidic reflex in the back of her throat. She's been avoiding you lately, simply because you make the urges go away.

She can't live with that.

Can't live with what you make her.

You trace the heart on her cheek. Your fingers feel like divinity sinking into her skin. You try to reason with her, tell her the truths of the crypt. "Surly Draculaura, you must know who you really are. Isn't it silly that you persist in this nativity?" Your words are harsh. Good intentions wrapped in silver blades. She bites her tongue, killing the queries before they dare spill.

You make her crave things.

Things she's avoided her whole life.

There's blood on your lips, dripping onto the ground. She fights the urge to kiss you. The heat of the sun amplifies the scent of the decaying flesh. Her stomach growls, this isn't right. The grip on her parasol tigtens. There is justice behind your actions, not one she can make herself understand. She watches as you tear into the decomposing body. "Don't", it's nothing less of a prayer. She feels her fangs elongate. How she wishes the world would turn to black.

Can a vampire be haunted?

Surly they can, it's the only answer to your staunch lingering.

Draculaura's coffin feels too snug, like a home and a prison encapsulated in one. She wishes she could feel cold dirt under her nails, feel the thrill of digging her way out of a grave. It's your fault, it has to be. Why must you awaken such ancient sensations? Such horrid cravings, such primal needs.

Why must she see divinity in your face, liquid darkness shimmering behind enigmatic eyes? You are something terrifying, something painful. You are what she was supposed to be, what she's fled from her whole life.

Your silhouette is a curse and a blessing. A reminder of a lineage she was thrusted into. A legacy she never wanted. Everything about you is a hunting familiarity for a family she never knew. She wonders if she would have been the prettiest girl in the morgue. She wonders if her father should have let her die all those eons ago.

"I used to be human" She confesses one night. She doesn't know why you agreed to come over. Why seeing you in your pajamas sparks one too many fond memories.

"So?" your tone is one of perplexity. She feels foolish under your gaze. You glide the makeup brush across her cheeks. dusting them with faded nostalgia. "I can't eat them. It'll feel like I'm eating myself" How long has it been since the transformation occurred? how long has it been since she shedded the body of that sickly fragile girl? She's been a vampire for centuries yet still can't get used to the title.

"You can eat these ones..." Something ancient within her stirs, her bones rattle with comprehension. She knows what you mean and it fills her with a need to scream.

Draculaura can't see her reflection, can't gauge how different she is now. You used to help her with her makeup back in high school. Back when the shade of your lipstick determined your personality for the day. She's never seen her face. She prays it's identical to yours. She prays that someday she can embody you...

There's a deathly hunger within her. Bubbling in her stomach. She needs to let it out before it kills her. Can she even die? She's almost sure she wants to. You almost make her want to succumb to the impulse of quitting her humanity all toghter. Your presence makes her all so hungry. She's gotten better at hiding it under school-ghoul gossip and trend talk.

She settles for a kiss tonight, a rushed peck on the cheek. Some vampire she is, instead of bleeding you dry she's pouring her sorrows into you. She wonders if you take note. See the ghosts jouncing within her soul.

Draculaura's nails pick at the skin of her birthmark.

The skin cracks.

blood trickles.

Can a vampire even be haunted?

Yes.

She knew the charade wouldn't last forever.

Knew that one day the lights would dim and the stage would fade to black

A final curtain call. An impending doom.

The final nail in her glass coffin. Rendering it to shards.

And she'll be left plucking fragments from her eternal flesh.

There's a small joy in knowing you'll be her effacer.

The one to put an end to 2,000 years of pretend.

"And then he was all like "You know?" and I was like "Whatever" and he was-"

"Draculaura, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turns to face you, your smile is a crushing weight. On her shoulders crave. You throw your head back and laugh. Laughing at how little she's changed since you shared a desk in class. Since your most eminent concern was fearleading practice and algebra tests. Draculaura should laugh too, this she knows. Yet she remains distracted by your neck and all the glory it holds.

Just a small bite won't hurt...

☾🐾☽Clawdeen Wolf☾🐾☽

Clawdeen is protective to a fault. A trait she could never identify as innate or habit. Still, the urge to stalk you persists. Pricking away at her fur like wolfsbane.

Clawdeen's been brought up to believe in legacy, to worship the moon and the stars and their maker. Ancient things have a way of lasting lifetimes. She knows this now, finds its evidence when she unravels her family, her pack, herself...you. Her kind has been known to nurture those they love, to birth and raise every great warrior. She ponders again if this was originally encrypted in their blood or if her species picked it up throughout the years.

All she knows is that something inside her awakens when she sees you. A testament to an ancient love, long since stifled under sand and snow.

She wonders if that's what she's done with you all these years. If, in her own way, she's raised you to become some sort of warrior, a great beast living amongst subsidiary.

The two of you sit beside the bay window. Her newest sketchbook draped across her lap. You lean in resting your head on her shoulder, listening as she explains the inspiration behind each design.

You feel like you've been mauled. A piece of you thrown in every direction. Only to morph into the creations of your hunter. "You remember your first design?" you ask, closing your eyes to still the world. "Wasn't that when we wrapped Howleen in a red blanket and my mom's scarf?" Her claws prick her upper lip as she stifles a giggle. "And made her walk around the house like it was a Scaris runway" You add, relishing in the bygone recollection.

Your childhood memories together are coated in ichor. Jejune days

when you'd watch her tumble over herself trying to be everything she could never be. Even back then, you'd known something was amiss with the world. Seen the ancient wolf that lay dormant within her. felt its bonds call out to you, pulling you in deeper. You'd cling to her like a frightened child to a teddy bear.

But you're older now. Instead of the scared child, you've turned into the monster under the bed. Funny how everyone's heritage catches up with them at some point. Even when you grow unaware of its presence. Legacy still tends to echo in your bones. You're both the same in that regard.

"I can never tell if I'm alive or dead." You tell her one night.

"Neither" Clawdeen's voice is rigid, stiff. She can feel your awakening and rebirth. It sings in her head, more vital than a howl. "creatures like us don't die so easily. We only transform." She remembers the legends, the wars, they rattle in her bones sending shivers up her spine. Neither of you have ever died. You've survived every tribulation.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" you reply, Clawdeen notes the embers that burn behind your eyes. How they spread across your body like a wildfire.

"What doesn't kill me, simply gives me a reason to kill it" She swears she sees the moon flicker in retort.

Clawdeen slits her throat with her claws.

Choking on moondust and half-fallen stars.

Her father once told her heritage is everything before giving her a golden ring fashioned as a wolf's head. She still doesn't know what he means.

She knows her kind was born from misplaced love.

She's just glad your fates are entwined.

"Someday you'll have red eyes." You trace your thumb over her lashes as you speak. Trailing down to play with her curls. She knows what you mean. Oh how, she wants to devour the hope you offer so freely. Rip it from your heart and feel it pulsing under her fangs. Maybe then her stars will align and she'll truly understand what she is.

Clawdeen's feelings grow teeth, gnawing at her carnivorously as she pulls you close. Muttering a 'thanks' as if it holds the weight of the world. There's comfort in the thought that she's molded you. Helped nourish your flames until they grew so potent. She's ever only been the middle child of the moon. But with you, she feels like so much more. Like something celestial, something ancient. An heirloom made of blood and moonrock.

Above you the clouds part. Giving way to the full moon.

₊˚.༄Lagoona Blue₊˚.༄

The air in her lungs feels synthetic, dry. She chokes off the sand and ozone, blinded by the unfiltered light, leaving burns on her frail, scaled, skin. She wonders if this is how a fish feels as it's being reeled on land. She wonders if she's any different now.

Her heart hammers when she sees you, cracking her ribs in hysteria.

Water lilies bloom from their marrow, she counts them just to distract from the stars burning in your eyes. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, gnawing the pink flesh like a shark does its prey.

Her eyes burn when she catches a glimpse of you by the pond. Gazing conflicted at three-eyed frogs. She can't help but see you as a cacophony of unmarked graves. Too many ghosts linger across your body, they're prints evident in the afternoon sun.

You leave a water lily behind her ear as you brush past her in the hallway. She thinks your perfection is exaggerated, artificial like the air. The kind daydreaming divers pray to find in rogue oysters. Lagoona is sure you're the last of your kind. An endangered creature too proud to ask for help. She clumsily fingers the flower's petals. The wave of nostalgia that invades, has her gasping for air.

The ocean she once called home is overrun by rot. She too is infected by the pollution that plugs her gills. In her dreams, she treads through clean oceans, webbed fingers entwined with yours. There is no corrosion here, no death. Just you and her and everything that entails the definition of good. When she wakes up she notices that her gills are falling one by one. Pastel blue glints scattered, floating across her bed like the empty husks of sea stars.

She too is the last of her kind.

She too is destined to perish in agony.

She wonders if you hear her tears. Hear them fall into the abyssal sea. Feel their reverberations as they create rings on the surface. She can't expect such a thing from you. You're in your own world struggling with your own scars. You left her another flower today, nymphoides indica, she doesn't understand what you're trying to tell her.

The pond has started to bleed too. Its decaying scent is pungent from miles away.

has it bled into her?

Is she infected too?

You're there again today, worlds apart yet close enough to touch. Her body stiffens as she kneels next to you. Desperate for your attention, desperate for you to tell her what she is. Maybe, just maybe she can confess her love in time to share a grave with you.

"I used to be so beautiful.." Your voice sounds evasive. A final cry for help before the ocean consumes you. Your reflection in the pond is muddled over. A glitch in reality, something Frankie would have more experience with. "you still are mate…you still are" Her words are earnest, yet she doubts they bring you solace. "If it's any consolation, I'm polluted too..". You laugh so condescending it makes her stomach churn. She rolls the words in her mouth again, tasting them for misunderstandings.

"We're all polluted Lagoona. We always have been."

You're made of one too many pieces, all doused in poison. You rearrange the water lilies on her head. Your fingers feel like home threading through her hair. "The last of our kind." Lagoona giggles, her body is growing dryer, desperate, the moisturizer and hydration station have long since stopped working. Now she awaits the poison to take over fully. You're her memento mori another helpless creature awaiting death.

And yet, to her, you're still as radiant as the first day she met you.

Lagoona's grave will be in the sea. It's a last wish one you decide to honor. You kiss her on the cheek as she turns to you. Body half submerged in her home. She hugs you, with all the longing her frail corpse can muster. It's only too late when you notice that you too are being submerged. Dragged into the eternal depths. Lagoona refuses to part with you. This is her final gift, the last present she will give you. A quick and painless death. One with a comforting presence.

Her father used to tell her strange tales of bizarre men who'd come to their ancestrial home, seeking answers far too advanced for them. She wonders if she's had the answers all along. Maybe she just had to look a little deeper.

It doesn't matter now. For her final breaths, she is at peace. She is content to end like this. With you in her arms.

𓂀𓆣☥Cleo De Nile☥𓆣𓂀

Cleo likes to think she's come a long way from her former self. No longer an autocrat cheerleader with stary eyes and a need to be worshipped.

She likes to think she's filled out the role of queen, of sovereign, of absolute.

She's done her dynasty proud...

Shattered and transformed herself into the perfect vessel.

It's not until she catches her rogue reflection in the gleam of your eyes, that she realizes she's still the same. Eons have passed yet Cleo still remains the same frail cowardly daughter bearing the burden of the D'Nile name.

You look every bit a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. You've grown to fill the role you never knew you had.

Cleo bleeds gold. She always has.

Little did she know, you did too.

You always had.

There's a crushing weight, something that makes her long for entombment. "I wish I were a mere child once more." her tone is sand on sand. So faint you think it nothing more than a mirage of sound. Her head lays on your lap bleeding out her sins as she prays for the sun to melt her. Feeble, unstable thing she is. Hailing from a feeble unstable place.

Maybe it would do you both some good to forgo the past. To embrace a thundering, grotesque future. Maybe it's time to retire the thrones and gold bangles. Maybe it's time to depart.

she laughs at such a preposterous notion.

Cleo's Icoffine lays in a pool of shards and wires and golden beads. Her bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep, tugging you closer until the scent of spices and flora became overbearing. "it's...okay" you lie through the rage bubbling in your throat. Through the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. "It's not-it's...it's never been okay", the words feel like boulders crushing her bones. turning her body and bandages back to dust.

You've known Cleo to always wear a broken crown. Funny how, after a millennia, the cracks still keep growing. Only now they bleed into her corpse, cut through bandages, and aim for the heart. You want to wipe her tears away. To whisper glory and purpose into her bejeweled ears.

Cleo lies on the golden floor. It's cold, frigid, she doesn't remember gold to be so unwelcoming, so petrifying. You pull her hand to your heart, hovering above her. Watching as she melts and hardens in the same breath.

"Allow me the pleasure of death once more. Allow me the luxury of being the only monster you ever have to know." Cleo doesn't remember missing her sarcophagi so much. Her lungs fill with broken promises as her eyes sting from mulish obsoletes. "I've been so blind for so long." She confesses, free hand fiddling with the jewels on her blouse. Running them along her nails waiting to see which will scratch first. "As have I, there's no need to-" her voice is harsh as she sits up. The undead rising from its bejeweled grave. Her hands cup your face. She tries to be gentle, to cradle you like a flower petal. "I'm-I-" her breath hitches as her fractured mind screams. "I hate myself all so very much. Yet I love you with every bit of the heart I thought I lost all those millennia ago."

Chaos has a way of squirming through her veins.

Her dreams are tainted in rubies, seeing you lying in the sand.

The noise above is defining. She hates that she's not used to it by now.

It can't be fair.

The world can't take you from her.

You're the only lifeline she has left.

The only hope that remains.

You tell Cleo you want to die one starless night, she understands the sentiment. You don't know why that makes you cry. Her lips leave phantom kisses across your eyelids. Spilling gold pleated secretes into your skin. Cleo wishes she kept you entombed next to her, rotting away far from every disaster. Yet she knows she can't, not now at least. You've morphed her into her purpose better than her omnipotent father and cruel sister ever could. With you by her side, she's truly become a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. While you rein above her, some all-knowing creature who she can't help but worship.

Maybe someday, decades from now.

The love you share will be dethroned

How unlikely such a feat seems.

Taglist: @hadesnewpersephone @feedmestraycats @deathangelraven @itotallysleepenough @yuuka29 @umgatochamadopercyval

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snugglesquiggle · 18 days

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i feel a lil bad asking this right when a lot of people are excited for hostile takeover, but for financial reasons, i might need to start putting some of my energy into more serious original projects again.

i'm not pausing HT — i don't think i could stop thinking about those lezbots if i tried — but being able to take breaks to work on other things tends to be good for my energy levels in general.

and honestly, when i first started, i thought HT itself was just going to be a quick break from those projects, and now i'm four months in and my plans keep growing >.>

anyway, the purpose of this post is that i wanted to gauge interest. i know most people follow me for murder drones stuff, but do any of the original stories i'm considering interest you?

more detailed pitches for each of these can be found under the cut. honesty is appreciated.

a note before i pitch them — when i write original fiction, i post it to my site and a site for original fiction called royalroad. i'll probably reserve my ao3 account for, yknow, fanfiction.

the plan is that while the stories will eventually be available publically, supporters to my patreon will get to read several chapters ahead of everyone else.

Aurora Moonrise

It is the nature of comets to dazzle and destroy. These eldritch spirits from beyond the stars grind kingdoms to dust with joyful ease. Only the power of a daughter of the moon can repel them. There are none left. Aurora knows she is different. Her father is a plain man, and her mother is a mystery. Her prismatic hair, her divergent mind, her inability to weave common enchantments — it must come from her mother's side. But her mother is gone and no one will say why or where or anything. It's enough to make her want to fight someone. And Aurora fights — people, animals, spirits, it doesn't matter. She doesn't want to hurt them, but it's thrilling. She'll just have to become a knight — knights get to fight things, right? And knights get answers to who their parents were. When a cursed storm leaves Aurora glowing in the light of the full moon, she awakens new powers she can't control. Powers unheard of, except in those old stories. But the word on the lips of churchmen is witchcraft — communion with unnatural spirits that spells doom. Will she defend humanity? Or is she a threat to it?

pitching this one is hard, because the most interesting thing about is a twist reveal at the end of the first arc. at first, you can see it's framed to suggest — and Aurora initially believes — her mother is a "daughter of the moon", but of course, she's actually a comet.

as the poll option suggests, her inhuman heritage makes urges her to fight and hinders her ability to understand the basics of human social interaction.

this would be a long story, lighter in tone than the others, and structured like a fantasy trilogy, about Aurora journeying across the land doing what she thinks heroes do. along the way, she picks up several party members with their own weird baggage. all of them girls, of course, and it gets very gay by the end — but it's slow going because, yknow, aurora doesn't understand romance, either.

i'm very excited about this project — just thinking about it is enough to get me bouncing. you can actually read a four chapter teaser right now, and i have over 70k words of notes past that, with the whole thing outlined start to finish.

Thy Wretched Mask

Everyone wants to peel off their skin and scream into the night. You're just supposed to keep a handle on that. Beca's trying. Now on the run, she'll just have to get it right in a new town. She's got nothing to her name save a pet raven, but a little pickpocketing will change that. Maybe a burglary or two. As long as she doesn't tear someone's flesh apart in broad daylight, she could keep things controlled. It's a lonely life, but friendship is only temptation. She should just keep to herself. So why does she listen when the woman from the shadows talks? They're making an offer that could lift her off the streets for good. The catch? She has to kill someone. Again. That's definitely too much temptation.

once again, the most interesting parts of this are a surprise. Beca isn't human; she's saddled predatory instincts she doesn't understand. the "fungal possession" comes into play several chapters in. it gets intense enough that i believe it's one of the few times i've teared up while writing something, and it's so far the first and only time i've written something that explores topics of plurality, which is pretty personal to us

i say HT is the first time i've written romance (and it is), but TWM came close, and would have gotten even closer if i continued it.

i've already written over 20k words of this (unpublished), but due to the writing exercise it began as, it requires substantial rewrites; i cringe when i try to reread it, and it honestly makes the prospect of returning a bit unexciting.

this would probably only about the length of a novel. (original projection was novella length, but i think i want to flesh it out more.)

of all of my potential projects, i think this one is probably the biggest thematic overlap with Hostile Takeover. but uh, it's dark enough to make that look like a sappy romance >.<

Running Out of Skin & Time

Tomorrow, a lord will be flayed alive. Once his flesh, freely given, is woven into a vast frame, enchanted scars will turn him into a living portal, a gift that could turn a blightstricken town into a bustling trade nexus. Apnoe has woken up beside the same dead girl three nights in a row. The lord's flaying is tomorrow — same as it was for the last three nights. She's the only one who's noticed. Assassins lurk in the flaying festival's crowds, and when they strike the lord dead, the whole town watches their dreams crumble, and then Apnoe wakes again as if from a dream. She knew this quite well; on the first night, she had killed him. Scarred flesh grants magic. How deep a wound did it take to make every living soul in the city relive the same day? It wasn't Apnoe's, and she doesn't know why only she remembers, but then again, most scar magic treats her differently. After all, she's dead half the time. Apnoe would kill to end this nightmare — but it seems the only way out is saving a man who'll die tomorrow anyway.

of all the options, this story is the least well flesh out (no pun intended), but it has a lot of potential. a "time loop" where a character relives the same day over and over is something not enough stories explore well

(if it means anything to you, the inspiration for this fic was literally just thinking "what if the Shibuya Incident was a time loop?")

i call this "superhero fantasy" because, while i havent figured out the tech level (it's industrial, but how modern?), the magic system gives everyone unique and specific abilities that are easiest to imagine as superpowers.

the time loop effect itself is the rube goldberg interaction of half a dozen powers, and part of the fic is puzzling out just how it works, as well as puzzling out how to overcome the various powers arrayed against the lord.

it would be a very complex, cerebral fic, all about power progression and fight scenes, but at its heart, i want it to be the story of two dead girls who love each other enough to unravel fate itself

A Chimerical Hope

Duskroot is destroyed. A minor stronghold, its enemies were cunning and coordinated and its allies didn't lift a hand. As vultures at a corpse, mercenaries hunt for survivors. Awelah escaped Duskroot. She lost everything. Vengeance drives her, but can she kill a angel beyond death? Ooliri's mission is to aid the refugees. He has to prove he belongs in a family of medical geniuses. But healing isn't enough — can he bring the dead back to life? Makuja seeks safety among the refugees. Death and servitude leaves her gaze empty. It's easy to be a follower, but is there a purpose worth living for? First, the three need answers. A grand scheme is unfolding, and Duskroot was only the first step.

unlike all of the others, this isn't an idea for a story, or a plan for a story, it is a story, one i've written 100k words for. you can read it here

it's set in an expansive setting i've spent literal years thinking about with giant insects empowered by virulent mutant bat blood and cold black corruption pouring out from a hole in the sky.

it's also, shamelessly, only avoids being called naruto fanfiction by dint of sheer weirdness

Aurora Moonrise may be the story i'm most excited about, but ACH is the one with the most ambition and purpose behind it. if i could only ever tell one story in my life, it'd probably make it ACH. it might be over a million words if i ever finish it

but i also think it's probably too weird to get very popular.

And so on

if you can't tell already, i have a LOT of story ideas. before i ever watched murder drones, would you believe i was literally already working on a story about killer lesbian robots on a inhospitable frozen planet haunted by a creeping cosmic horror?

and i'm kind of tempted to work on a story about modular mushroom creatures that live underground. or a fricken pokemon mystery dungeon self-insert i've already finished one chapter of.

and of course, i have several other stories i could continue working on.

but like, the stories i've listed are the ones i can honestly say i might work on right now. and, practically speaking, the stories that might genuinely takeoff, if i dare hope.

#🐍#my squiggles #my writing

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ticklystuff · 8 months

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OMG KAFKA i love kafka and since you like her too, I hope you dont mind if I req.... C D I K for Kafka pretty please? Have a good day <3333

i could be quirky and spell dick with those letters

ask game closed!

omg ofc i don't mind talking her, she's actually a goddess. also, don't worry, i'll be quirky for you!

D: Death Spot | What is their most ticklish spot?

I feel like for Kafka it has to be in sort of secretive spot. Like, maybe her ribs aren't that ticklish in general, but if you dig into the underside of the second rib from the bottom on the right side of her body, then you'll get her to squeal.

I: Interrogation | How well would they handle a tickle interrogation?

Kafka does not feel fear, so she's good lmao but ya seriously, I think she'd be fine because she has handled much worse before. In fact, she'd probably manipulate the situation into her favor and be like "oh noooo not my sides please" knowing full well that she's not very ticklish there. Or, if her ler is approaching a death spot, she'll do that whole influencing thing she does with her voice when she's like "listen to me" and kinda push her ler to tickle somewhere else that isn't so bad

C: Chase | What are their chances in a chase, both as a lee and ler?

Have you read her bio? They make her sound like some Eldritch Horror that appears out of nowhere, so she is absolutely catching her lee and no matter how fast they try to run, she's always just right around the corner.

Also, Kafka doesn't get caught. If she does, it's so that she can turn the tables on her ler and wreck them instead

K: Killer Move | As a ler, do they have special skills to use against their lees and drive them crazy with?

Okay, maybe not a specific killer move (she doesn't need one, she's already too powerful) but she does that whole "listen to me" thing and convinces her lee that they're more ticklish than they already are, or she might trick them into feeling ticklish in certain spots that aren't normally sensitive. It's all a mind game thing with Kafka, so when they're no longer under her influence, the lee goes back to normal. I hope they made sense because I kinda like this idea lol

#kafka #honkai star rail #tickling

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 11 months

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Em my ❤️! That last chapter! Reading about Babey rip Vissie T a new one was the cherry on top. I love that she's not this shy, innocent and that she speaks her mind. I enjoyed that this was Daemon's pov. It felt like a right close off for this segment. I love how he dotes on Rhaenar and Aelys and I REALLY enjoyed their flight on Caraxes and I loved Babey's moment with the Dragon eggs! That was so unique! - 🔥

Ooooh, I'm so happy you enjoyed Babey FINALLY giving her papa a decent what-for! It was a long, long time coming. Now that I'm back at the beginning doing my edits, seeing the difference in her character is so wild. I'm proud of the evolution she's gone through - and she'll continue to go through it! 270,000 odd words to get there, too, haha!

Daemon is a super-fun character to write for. He's a complicated guy, and it's not always easy to figure out why that is. I do think that his parents' deaths fucked him up a little, as well as the perpetually-being-in-Viserys's-shadow thing, and the fact he was forced to wed Rhea (which he did at like 16 if I remember right? And also, it was sure to have been a traumatic event, being so young and made to endure the general chaos of a wedding with the rude japes while knowing that he did not want this etc.). There's other bits and pieces lurking in there too - I've read some real interesting theories about SA and DV being involved, but I do want to keep that vague in my characterisation of him just because I don't know if that's something the show will ever fully explore.

He loves his little BABIESSSSSS!!!! Why wouldn't he? They're part him and part Babey and they're smol and precious and he loves them. The flight being Daemon's story felt right, because it's so intrinsically part of him! And the little eldritch horror scene with the egg was not going to go that way, originally, but then I had a BRAIN SPARK that changed the whole vibe I was going for. I intended to have some lite smut, but - well, after seeing his Babey go a little nuts, I imagine he wouldn't be thinking with his peen and all. Smut will return, just at a more feasible time! I like it better that way.

Thank you so much for your kind words, nonnie! Thrilled to be going back to the beginning to make everything really gel in a way it doesn't quite for me just yet.

#fanfiction asks

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tickledpink31 · 1 year

Note

So have you design Minako Overblot form?

I haven't officially designed Minako's full-blown overblot form yet, but I do have ideas floating around in my head about how it would look like that I've been wanting to draw for awhile. I've mentioned before that Minako is in a strange in between state of overblot but also not because of the curse.

At first, I thought about taking inspiration from the Sorcerer Mickey outfit from Fantasia, but that wasn't working for me since it's not my most favourite outfits to get inspiration from (that outfit only worked with the masquerade ensemble).

I think taking inspiration from the Phantom Blot would be better since Minako's overblot would be quite different from everyone else's. She's the literal blot queen/incarnate that she doesn't even have a phantom of her own behind her. She is the Phantom.

I have this idea that Minako slowly embraces becoming an eldritch horror. In the back of her mind there's this version of her goading her by saying something along the lines of, "Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just want to go apeshit?" This entity that resembles Minako would look something like Dread Queen Persephone from Lore Olympus.

The moment Minako says, "Fine! I'll go apeshit!" She straight up makes a different outfit entirely. If she's going to go evil berserker mode, she'll do it on her own terms lol.

Don't get me wrong, the form fitting outfit is nice, but Minako has her own style. She's a lace and ruffles kind of girl. Minako has always wanted to dress up in lolita fashion, so she might as well use this opportunity.

Or she could wear Wednesday's dancing dress with a high-low skirt.

So the overblots also have the glowing eyes thing too. Either both of Minako's eyes are glowing turquoise or she just has straight up black sclera, signifying the absence of her Patronus light.

On another note, even after she's out of full overblot, Minako still has her hands stained in black. They won't go away from a few hours to a couple of days, but at least it doesn't leave stains on whatever she touches.

EDIT: forgot to mention that I imagine Minako's overblot form to have white hair to signify thinner, especially after chapter 6. I just think it's a cool idea for her hair to be made of ink and using it make her outfit that it turns her hair white

#ask #twisted wonderland x harry potter #twisted wonderland #harry potter #epics of ink and light #epics of ink & light #twisted wonderland mc #harry potter oc #oc: minako nezumi #overblot

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gentil-minou · 7 months

Text

cw genderbend | wlw wangxian week | @wlwangxianweek

Day 7: creature au where Lan Zhan turns into an eldritch horror featuring office romance + angst

It starts in the tips of her fingers. Subtle, at first. Just an elongation she doesn't even notice until one morning she wakes to her fingernails sharpened into points. Lan Zhan stares at them confused, lying in bed while a tiny steady stream of blood trickles down her cheek where she'd scratched herself in her sleep. Blood already dried beneath her fingers.

The blood is so dark, it's almost black.

She rises and carries about her morning, adding an extra step to her routine by filing her nails down to something safer.

Her first date with Wei Ying is today. She wants it to be perfect, especially after all the courage it took to just ask her out.

She'd like to hold her hand, maybe. The thought bolsters her as flecks of her nails litter the sink.

The date is wonderful, everything she'd imagined it. From their lunch at the cute Cafe, to the ice cream they shared, and finally their scenic walk through the park.

Wei Ying takes her hand as they meander down the path near the pond, their fingers entwined and Lan Zhan’s ears a bright pink that makes Wei Ying giggle.

She kisses her at the end of the date, in front of the entrance to Wei Ying's apartment. Short and sweet, promising more.

A sharp tooth pricks the smooth skin of Wei Ying’s lip, drawing blood. Wei Ying laughs it off, cradling her mouth and waving off Lan Zhan’s apologies. Her eyes are shining in the twilight evening.

Lan Zhan licks the blood off her lips without thinking about it. Tastes like sugar.

The next morning, her nails are sharp as knives once again. She files them, again, trimming them as well just in case. Her brow furrows, puzzled.

She doesn't look up, but her reflection in the mirror watches, no furrow in sight. Watching. Waiting.

The next morning, the nails are back.

It continues for the rest of the week, a dance of sorts. Lan Zhan wakes in the morning, sleeping in mittens to prevent scratching, with eerily pointy nails. And every morning, she trims and files them.

She heads to work, where Wei Ying greets her with a kiss over the watercooler, glancing back and forth in case their boss walks by. Lan Zhan doesn't mind as much, placing a hand on her slender waist and drawing her towards her for a longer kiss.

They make plans to see a movie Wei Ying wants to watch, a horror movie Lan Zhan will only watch for Wei Ying.

That Saturday, the day of their second date, Lan Zhan wakes to the tips of her fingers shriveled and blackened. Like they've been burned in the night, though there's no loss of feeling or anything. The skin is shriveled, but nothing impossible.

It's cold enough for her to get away with wearing gloves for her date, though her older pairs barely fit. She'll have to get new ones, she thinks, trying not to wonder why this is happening.

She has a date today, after all.

Thankfully the movie theater is dark, and when she pulls her gloves off it's impossible to see the unnatural hue of her fingers. The movie itself is, as she expected, terrifying. But Wei Ying wraps her arm around Lan Zhan's shoulder so she can bury her head in the soft, cinnamon scented skin of her neck.

When Wei Ying tries to hold her hand, Lan Zhan reluctantly pulls away. The texture of her fingers is…unpleasant. she doesn't want Wei Ying to notice.

She tries not to notice the look Wei Ying gives her. She kisses her extra long later, deep and filling it with an emotion she doesn't dare to name.

The woolen fabric of her gloves skim the smooth skin of Wei Ying’s cheek as her finger trace the shape of them. She thinks about how they'd feel under bare skin, feeling a hollow pit form in her stomach.

The next morning, she wakes to both her arms as dark as night, wrinkled and unrecognizable.

Her arms used to be one of her best features, slender but still with defined muscles. Skin so fair they'd tell her she was made of pure jade.

Wei Ying loves her arms. She'd cling to them for the tiniest reasons, squeezing her bicep and making a flirtatious comment as she did. Their hands clasped together, bronze against white, made Lan Zhan feel light as air, like any second she could take off and fly away, Wei Ying by her side.

Now, her arms look like spindly little branches falling from a dead tree.

She can't let Wei Ying see her like this.

She has enough vacation days saved up. She uses them all, taking weeks off as she scours the internet and orders book after book, searching for an answer kf any kind.

She finds nothing.

Wei Ying texts, and Lan Zhan responds saying she's unwell, taking time off to spend with her brother. To her brother, she says she's busy. Work has been intense, and there's just no time for her to make their nightly video calls.

When he asks about Wei Ying, she lies, telling him it's going very well. Her heart sinks as she presses send, the guilt landing like lead.

All the while, the decay crawls up her arms into her shoulders, spreading down over her collarbones and breasts. It creeps over her belly and pelvis, then seeps into her legs. Skin shriveled and ebony black, so dark she's no longer able to make out anything else.

Her face is last, and Lan Zhan wakes to a face that's nothing like her own. Wrinkled and gaunt, bones protruding sharply. The whites of her eyes are gone completely, replaced by a golden yellow color that's the only bit of light left on her body.

Her face has no expression, impossible to make out like this. Her teeth sharpened into fangs, craving meat and blood and everything she'd shied away from all these years.

She might as well be a statue now, just as the bullies of her youth called her.

She collapses onto the cold tiled floor, sobs howling.

No tears fall, her eyes no long able to produce it.

Hours later, the wailing stops and she lies there, staring up at the ceiling.

Her research gave her no answers. There's no pain or anything, nothing out of the ordinary besides her appearance and new cravings, constant hunger.

If she…runs away, could she live the rest of her life like this. Sequester herself in a forest somewhere, hunt for food and eschew modern living. It might not be so bad. She's never liked being around people all that much.

Until Wei Ying.

She'll miss Wei Ying. Yes, that's true. Miss her smile brightening the entire office, miss her laugh as it echoes off the walls of their shared cubicles. She'll miss the way Wei Ying would drape herself over Lan Zhan's part of her desk, talking and listening, like Lan Zhan is someone worth paying attention to.

She'll miss the twinkle in Wei Ying’s eyes when she stared up at her, hiding her laughter in her arms and giving it away all the same.

Miss the way Wei Ying tastes, like spice. The kind Lan Zhan wishes she could bottle and keep forever.

She'll miss what they could have had, together. The future she'd once seen between them, that led her to ask her out in the end. The dream of happiness she chased.

Lan Zhan sheds no tears, but in this moment she wishes she could, for a love lost.

There's a knock on the door.

It's hesitant, at first. So soft and quiet, Lan Zhan thinks she's misheard.

Then the banging starts, incessant, followed by a frantic voice calling, "Lan Zhan!?"

She stiffens, recognizing the voice. Of course, how could she have expected Wei Ying to stay away for long?

Lan Zhan doesn't resist the urge to leave her bathroom and stand. on the other side of her front door, hunched so she can fit under the now too low ceiling, as close to Wei Ying as she dares.

Surely, if she waits here, eventually Wei Ying will leave, right?

Part of her riots at the idea, despises it wants Wei Ying to show she cares, to stay, as selfish as it is.

Wei Ying's knocking doesn't cease, and she continues for several minutes before finally she stops. The silence rings loud in Lan Zhan's apartment, only rustling outside.

Lan Zhan presses herself against the door to peer through the little eye hole, the surface warm against her frozen, dead skin.

Wei Ying paces back and forth in front of her door, hand on her jaw as she thinks, muttering to herself. Every once in a while she glances back at the door, the eye contact making Lan Zhan's heart race.

Finally Wei Ying stops and shakes out her shoulders, and says loudly directly at the door, "Lan Zhan, if you're there, you better open right up! Otherwise I'll assume something wrong and break the door down myself!"

Lan Zhan isn't sure if Wei Ying has the strength to, but she certainly has the tenacity to get someone who can. Or call in a welfare check, or something.

She needs to reassure her, so she whispers through the door, voice hoarse from disuse, "Wei Ying, I'm here…"

She's still watching through the peephole so she sees the way Wei Ying jumps, as if she hadn't expected a response. Her frown recedes quickly as her shoulders relax.

"Finally," she says, pressing her palm against the door. "You had me so so scared, Zhanzhan."

Lan Zhan presses the palm of her own shriveled hand up against the door, right where Wei Ying has hers.

"Won't you let me in? I just want to make sure you're alright."

Lan Zhan shakes her head, though there's no way Wei Ying can see.

"Wei Ying…I can't…"

Wei Ying looks up at the hole in the door, as if she can see Lan Zhan, as if her eyes seer through the door itself.

"Why…not?" Her voice is small, the quietest Lan Zhan has ever heard. It feels like the most unnatural thing about this situation.

"Was it something…I did?"

Lan Zhan's mouth is dry and she flounders, shocked. How could Wei Ying think that? How could she ever think she'd be the one at fault? That anything she did would make Lan Zhan stay away from her?

She's so shocked, she doesn't have a chance to reply before Wei Ying continues, "I know I can…be a lot and maybe I came on too strongly but…I really like you, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying appears shy, so different from her usual bravado and confidence. She huffs a bitter laugh, clearly fake. "I just, I didn't think you'd ghost me like this…"

Lan Zhan rushes to clarify, "I am not ghosting you, Wei Ying…I am…unwell."

"You said! And I want to believe you but…Lan Zhan it's been weeks. Even your brother came to the office asking where you've been. He thought I would know something, that you were still seeing me."

Lan Zhan tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it's too painful. She hasn't drank any water in days, and feels it now.

"Just…let me see you. I just want to make sure you're alright…" Her bright eyes are earnest, desperate, and so very heartbroken. "Please?"

Something inside Lan Zhan deflates, and she feels it settle heavy in her center. She can't keep doing this to Wei Ying, to the people she loves.

But how can she begin to explain? How can she tell Wei Ying without her wanting to run away in fear of what she's become.

She glances around the room, and by chance her eyes alight on a pale blue silk scarf her brother had given her. She grabs it, and opens the door the tiniest crack, just enough so she can thrust the scarf out.

"Cover your eyes with this. Then, we can talk."

It's quiet on the other side of the door, but eventually Wei Ying takes the scarf and Lan Zhan snatches her scraggly fingers back before she can see them. She watches through the peephole as Wei Ying secures it around her head.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Lan Zhan opens the door.

She hides behind the doorframe, so no unsuspecting neighbors can see. Wei Ying walks inside, her arms reached out to keep from bumping into her. Lan Zhan doesn't dare grab her arm to guide her to the living room, but luckily Wei Ying has been here before and manages to find it.

Wei Ying sits on the couch, hesitant but her expression still open. Her nose scrunches as she smells the stench of the room, but she says nothing. Lan Zhan doesn't know what she smells like right now, but she can't imagine it's anything pleasant.

Eventually, Wei Ying asks, "What's this for, Lan Zhan?" Her nose twitches adorably, and Lan Zhan loses sense for a minute at the sheer wonder that is Wei Ying, in front of her, almost within reach. "Do you have some sort of weird skin thing? Or like a mutant growth?"

Both are not inaccurate, but neither are they correct. Lan Zhan finds that she's even more woefully unprepared to talk about this.

"Look, you know…whatever it is, I'm not gonna care. You know that right?" Wei Ying says as she turns her head, searching for Lan Zhan though she can't see her.

"There's nothing, and I mean nothing, that would turn me off." She stretches out her hand, reaching forward in front of her, palm open, waiting. "I'm in this for the long haul, okay? No matter what."

Her slender fingers flex, bronze skin aglow in the lighting. Lan Zhan has dreamt about the feeling of them wrapped around her own. Aches to touch them right now.

"I meant it, Lan Zhan. I really, really like you" She stretches her arm out folder, grasping for something, for Lan Zhan. "Really, really, really!"

Lan Zhan takes in a shuddering breath, and Wei Ying's entire body snaps in her direction. Her smile is so gentle and sweet, love seeping from it. Without a thought, Lan Zhan finds herself bending over, reaching for her, decayed hand and claws hovering over Wei Ying's hands, too afraid to touch.

She stares at them, one over the other, mere molecules of air separating them. She wonders if Wei Ying can feel it, the little bit that separates them. She wonders if she's brave enough to bring her hand down, to touch. To hold.

"…There's something I need to tell you, Wei Ying."

Her hand, with it's spindly appendages and wrinkled skin, hovers over Wei Ying's as she tells her, starting from the beginning. From waking up the morning of their first date, to the way her skin charred a little more every day, until finally there was no way to hide it.

Wei Ying says nothing, doesn't even twitch. Her expression remains as it is, open and honest. She keeps her hand outstretched, waiting but not moving, There but not taking. And she listens.

By the time Lan Zhan finishes, she's feels wrung out and exhausted. A part of her is relieved, while another part of her is terrified of what she's done, wishes she could take it all back. But the words are out there, thrown upon Wei Ying's feet. It's up to Wei Ying to figure out what she will do with it.

Wei Ying takes a moment, the muscle in her jaw flexes and she opens her mouth to speak, but closes it right away. Her jaw becomes determined and she purses her lips together.

Then, without any warning, she reaches up and grabs Lan Zhan's hand, gripping the dead skin firmly.

Lan Zhan flinches, but Wei Ying is stronger than she looks and she can't pull away. Wei Ying tugs on her hand to draw her closer, and her fingers trace the new ridges of Lan Zhan's skin. They travel up her arm, along the dips and slide over the leathery texture. She frowns, but not with distaste. More…curiosity.

"How fascinating…" she whispers to herself, as her touch sends shivers racing down Lan Zhan's spine. "How did this happen?"

Lan Zhan swallows, watching the path Wei Ying's fingers travel down. "I do not know, I wasn't able to find any answers in my research."

Wei Ying hesitates, her fingers tracing shapes along Lan Zhan's bicep, now tiny enough her entire small hand could wrap around it without the muscle that was once there. She draws stars and hearts, in infinite lops over and over.

"…Can I see?" she asks, undemanding.

And Lan Zhan realizes, if she says no, Wei Ying would accept. She would not push or anything. She'd understand.

This, more than anything, makes Lan Zhan reach for the blindfold and slowly remove it from Wei Ying's face.

Wei Ying's blinks as she adjusts to the light in the apartment. It takes a moment for her to clear her eyes enough to see Lan Zhan, to take her all in.

There is… shock and surprise. Some concern as well, as her eyes trail up and down. Lan Zhan's clothes no longer fit her, and with her body as unrecognizable as it is, she didn't bother putting anything on to cover it. Nudity is the least of her shame, right now.

But as Wei Ying takes her form in, despite the multitude of emotions crossing over her face, not once does she look at Lan Zhan with fear or disgust.

Instead, she settles back into curiosity and bewilderment as she tilts her head. She reaches one hand out to poke the skin at Lan Zhan's belly, taking note of the way she flinches.

"…Interesting," she says, rubbing her nose as she thinks. "And you don't know how this happened at all, right?"

Lan Zhan shakes her head. There's fluttery feeling inside her belly, butterflies flying to and fro. Wei Ying's reaction, mostly the lack thereof fills her with a light she hasn't felt in weeks.

Wei Ying looks around the room, a contemplative look on her face that turns into determination. She gives her a look with all the gravity she possesses, and says, "Show me what you've got so far. We'll figure it out."

She doesn't say "together" but she doesn't need to.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying comb over pages and pages of her notes, with Wei Ying consulting some shady forums as well, trying to search for an answer. It's slow going, especially with the way Lan Zhan has to slouch just to squeeze onto the couch and the way she tries to hold herself away from Wei Ying, still afraid to touch.

Eventually, that decision is taken out of her hands completely when Wei Ying drapes a blanket over Lan Zhan's lap and rests her legs over it. As she shifts through a pile of notes, Wei Ying cards her fingers through Lan Zhan's hair, oily and limpid. But Wei Ying doesn't mind, her gentle hand combing through the strands as if there's nothing wrong. As if there's nothing that could deter her.

Little by little, Lan Zhan feels herself relax for the first time in weeks.

Hours later, after Wei Ying has ordered delivery and forced Lan Zhan to eat a steak— "You're starving! That won't do! Here, they make them rare."— they're still nowhere near an answer.

Wei Ying spends a long time skimming over one article, found on some hidden monster forum that seems more like a fantasy RP than anything else. She mutters under her breath as she reads. "It says here sometimes these spells come from within…like a manifestation of your own feelings, or something."

Lan Zhan, who technically doesn't have any eyebrows right now, raises hers anyways. "Spells?"

Wei Ying glances at her with a sly smirk, "You're a 10 foot tall demon thing, I think spells can absolutely be possible here. But if this stuff is true, it might be a lead, at least?"

"Who's the source?"

"DemonSucker6969."

"Hm."

Wei Ying throws her hands up in the air. "I don't know Lan Zhan, that's about as much as I've got so far! It might be worth a shot, right? What was going on before this…all started happening. Like any stress or anything?"

Lan Zhan stares at her blackened fingers where they contrast with her fuzzy blue throw blanket, the one with little bunnies that Wei Ying got her.

Mostly what Lan Zhan remembers from those weeks ago was fretfully tossing in bed as she thought about her date with Wei Ying. How she hadn't expected Wei Ying to agree in the first place, asking mostly because she'd reached the point where she needed to, already so overwhelmed with her feelings she felt ready to burst.

She remembers staring at her appearance in the mirror the night before, trying to figure out what Wei Ying saw in her that made her agree.

Her fingers twist as she wrings them together, unsure of how to explain. Wei Ying has been watching her all this time, patient as ever, in a way she rarely seems anywhere else.

"I was…scared," she says at last. "Worried. About our date…"

Wei Ying blinks as she processes Lan Zhan's words, then her features soften into understanding. She places her hands over Lan Zhan's, so much smaller in this form yet their warmth floods through.

"You were nervous about our date not going well?"

Lan Zhan shakes her head. "Not…exactly."

Wei Ying's fingers stroke hers, uncaring of what they look like, only offering comfort.

"I was worried I would disappoint Wei Ying."

Wei Ying stops moving, and Lan Zhan peers up to see her looking absolutely baffled.

"That makes no sense though! Why would I be disappointed???"

She says this as if the notion is completely ludicrous, like there is no world in which Wei Ying wouldn't want to spend time with Lan Zhan.

But well, considering the current state of her…maybe that's true.

Lan Zhan struggles to figure out how to explain better, the words bouncing in her head just out of reach. But she catches Wei Ying's eyes, and it steadies her.

"Disappointed that you agreed to go out with me."

Wei Ying gives her a long, hard look. Intense, bright eyes dancing as she takes Lan Zhan in, all of her. Blackened decayed skin, hair like slimy seaweed, skin so wrinkled she looks centuries old.

Her gaze is piercing and her mouth sets in a thin, unsmiling line.

Mind made up, Wei Ying's fingers clench around Lan Zhan's knobby wrist, grip tight enough to bruise if blood still flowed normally through it. She pulls her off the couch and down the hallway into Lan Zhan's bathroom.

Before Lan Zhan has a chance to stop her, Wei Ying shoves her into the shower stall and follows her in, slamming the glass door shut.

She twists the knob and freezing cold water pours out, drenching them both and plastering Wei Ying's clothing to her skin.

Eyes a livid burning fire, she shouts, "Are you an idiot!?"

Lan Zhan blinks, the lack of eyelashes making it hard to keep water from landing in her eyes. She tries to wipe it away, but it keeps pooling.

Wei Ying huffs, and puts her hands above Lan Zhan's eyes, a visor to shield against the shower spray. Her skin is still so warm.

Freezing cold water pours into Wei Ying's open mouth, spilling out of the sides, yet she pays it no heed. She focuses on Lan Zhan instead, protecting her from the rain.

"I would never," she says, voice carrying over the rush the water, so loud it's all Lan Zhan can hear. "Ever! Ever, ever be disappointed with you, Lan Zhan! You're….you're everything to me. Don't you know?"

Wei Ying's hands shift to cradle Lan Zhan's gaunt cheeks, streams of water trailing down. Her thumbs brush against the unnatural slope of her cheekbones, without a care.

Lan Zhan has to bend over nearly all the way so she can reach.

She'd split her body in have if that mean Wei Ying would touch her, always.

"You're my forever girl. Even when you look like this. Especially when you look like this."

Wei Ying's eyes pool with more than just the shower spray. Lan Zhan's breath hitches. Despite the cold, she's never felt so warm, so full of light.

"Maybe it's too soon to say this, but, well I don't care!" Wei Ying breaks into a watery smile, the sun peeking through a cloudy day. A rainbow after the storm.

"I love you Lan Zhan! All of you, every bit of you. Every shape and form. If you're an ant or an octopus or a snake or whatever! I'll love you, always."

A sob escapes from Lan Zhan's throat as she lifts her hand up to grip Wei Ying's where it rests again her cheek.

The other she rests against Wei Ying’s chest, above her heart, feeling it race beneath her decayed hand.

"Love Wei Ying," she whispers, watching Wei Ying's smile stretches impossibly wide. "Always, no matter what. My forever girl."

She rests her forehead against Wei Ying's. She doesn't feel the shower pouring over them, the freezing cold, the tile beneath her feet.

She only feels Wei Ying, burning bright, right beside her.

Wei Ying giggles, high and sweet, the sound echoing in the small shower stall. "Good. Great. The best."

Wei Ying leans forward, up on her tiptoes. Their noses brush and she whispers. A hair's breath away from Lan Zhan's lips.

"Can I kiss you. Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan doesn't bother responding, and instead shifts to press a kiss on Wei Ying's perfect smiling mouth.

She doesn't think at all about how weird it must be, if Wei Ying is uncomfortable or disgusted. She doesn't miss the way they'd kissed before.

All she thinks about is Wei Ying, kissing her back with a fervor that sets her alight.

All she thinks is Wei Ying, Wei Ying. Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan doesn't notice her shoulders begin to shrink, or the way her skin expands to make way for familiar muscle. She doesn't notice her seaweed hair reverting to its silken locks, drenched and sticking to her pale skin, moon white and the perfect contrast to Wei Ying’s tan.

She doesn't see her fingers shorten to their normal length, still long enough to cradle Wei Ying's face between her hands.

She wouldn't notice anything at all, until they part for a breath and Wei Ying’s eyes flutter open and she gasps against Lan Zhan's lips.

"Lan Zhan, look…"

"Mn?" she asks, trailing after Wei Ying's mouth when she tries to pull away. Her lips press against her jaw instead, which just allows Lan Zhan the perfect opportunity to brush gentle kisses down the side of Wei Ying's throat, biting down on the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

"We did it," Wei Ying says, just before she moans. She presses Lan Zhan's head against her skin, encouraging. "You're back."

It's takes a second for the words to register, and Lan Zhan jolts when they do. Wei Ying turns the shower knob off, and Lan Zhan stares down at her hands with wonder, human again.

She whirls around, twisting so she can be sure, and yes, it's her. The mole on her left breast, the scar on her knee from a childhood fall, her long hair, meticulously grown for years.

It's all her. She's back.

Her head shoots up to see Wei Ying, hands covering the grin as tears flood her eyes. Lan Zhan bounds forward to press her against the tiled walls, giving her a long deep kiss.

"Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan."

"Thank you…"

Wei Ying presses her forehead against Lan Zhan's, smooth skin against smooth skin.

"There's no need, not between us."

Lan Zhan huffs a laugh against Wei Ying's lips, pressing up against her chest.

Wei Ying squirms, and Lan Zhan realizes that she is still, very much naked.

Wei Ying twirls a lock of wet hair around her fingers. "So," she says coquettishely, fluttering her eyelashes up at Lan Zhan. "Is there something else you'd like to do now? Or someone?"

Lan Zhan growls, and does exactly what she likes, with no hesitation.

(threadfic here)

#Something something outrageous beauty standards and pressures something something depression and self isolation.#i'll be real i have a love hate relationship with this idea i love the concept but idk if it went the way i wanted it to #but ah well #its 4k so feels silly not to share it here #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fanfiction #wangxian #wlw wangxian #wlwangxianweek #genderbend #cisswap wangxian #genderbent wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs musings #bushy writing

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hopeful-hugz · 11 months

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"Pro" or "Con" Hope and Noir?

Send "Pro" or "Con" and I'll share one Pro or Con of Dating my Muse. || Accepting

🤍✅ You'll never be left wanting for anything. If you want something, even if just mentioned off-handedly, chances are she'll make sure you get it at some point.

🤍❎ Communication is never going to be perfect; in fact it could be a struggle with some people. Hope is both autistic and has ADHD and minor dyslexia. She can and will struggle with interpretations, articulation of words and with reading and understanding texts, even if it's not all the time. More often than not, texts will take more time to be sent because she's reading them over multiple times to make sure she understands things; or is going to someone to ask for a second opinion on her interpretations.

I mean, other than hot dragon girlfriend-boyfriend two-in-one:

💔✅ Voidlings eat emotion for sustenance and when they eat part of what your feeling, that emotion lessens for a time. Noir won't hesitate to eat your panic and anxiety; if you have mental health conditions that make emotions unpredictable and exhausting, she'll do her best to make it easier for you to handle and work through.

💔❎ She IS an eldritch void beast. Her draconic forms have many eyes and she can, has and will eat people without regrets. If you date her, just keep in mind you are dating a horror-brand monster. A semi-reformed monster, but a monster nonetheless.

#fallenphxtxgrapher #Multiversal MD || Hope #Voidling Troublemaker || Noir #Star Callings || Asks

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camellia-thea · 11 months

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2 and 5 for Dove and 6 and 17 for Taralin for the OC ask game :-)

ooh thank you love. some fun questions here. under a cut but it's not any longer than usual jhdgfjh.

warnings: death. violence. coercion? nothing descriptive tho.

dove dove dove dove------

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

dove stands 5'4 on a good night, and looks sickly. overtired, anemic, and bruised at her joints. she holds herself well enough, and has a polite air, but she doesn't look like much. a strong wind could probably knock her over-- except...

she's fast. weirdly fast for a kindred without celerity. quick reflexes, and a remarkable ability to disappear into the shadows. obfuscate and oblivion both help, in that department, but she was fine before she got those too.

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

dove has little holding her to human morals. she's only been kindred for a little over a year, but that's long enough. especially paired with how long she was ghouled. fifteen years of breaking and entering by night, working as pa by day, hacking, sabotaging, and general business espionage has left dove with a 'get shit done' attitude, and a want to look after herself.

but... now that she's free -- truly free, no blood bond, absent sire, and no connection to either sect -- she doesn't have... wants. she's safe, that was her big one. safe space, safe haven, safe. she's safe. she has financial security. she's fine, doesn't need money, and knows enough to get more if she needs it. she has her music, has her privacy, all she really wants is perhaps a mawla. someone willing to make trades.

she's willing to dip her toes back into the scene. maybe she'll make some... friends.

----------------------------------------

as typical for taralin, have some almost narrative things <3 one is... remarkably succinct. the other. less so.

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

taralin is oh-so-good at following orders. really, an ideal find for the morrigan. they lost their squeamishness quickly, in the realm of war. linger here, stab someone there, be a pretty face and a wicked tongue, it was all part of the job description, and really, you signed up for this, you should expect me to make use of your skill set, my vassal. except the blood on their hands stains and lingers. they ache and shudder with it, bile rising in their throat if they linger too long on the memories.

but that ends. in the realm of war, a dead body is a set piece more than a problem. that sort of... sensitivity, is scorned.

the first time they call an eldritch blast, they kill someone. they don't know his name. just know they were to... remove him.

there's a voice in their ear as they do, well done.

they don't want to, but they're in too deep already.

survival comes first now.

it's remarkable how quickly they throw away the morals instilled by their mothers. (they are bitter about it -- a better person would at least try. gods, they didn't even try. just gave up. turned to war and blood.)

but-- they sigh, no point dwelling. they just have to get through this.

they have to. whatever it takes.

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

taralin has seen-- so many horrors in their time. but one phrase lingers in their mind, rings so clearly years later.

"welcome to my service, vassal."

words set in stone. words spinning their fate.

#taralin #''dove'' [redacted]#feather speaks #feather answers #ask game #kaziaxd #watch me avoid the questions to write what i want <3 #annnnyyyyyway taralin's worst moment is literally their entire character #dove dove dove my beloved little mouse #i love her she is so good #another one for the 'i spent years trapped and am dealing with that' pile #huh. maybe that says something about me actually #lol i don't have time to examine that!#that first taralin one is all over the place but i got where i wanted #look taralin has 0 morals #none #they're allllllllll gone #except when they need to be Good and Polite <3 then they all come back and taralin pretends to be a Good Girl and Plays Nicely #i love me my unhinged warlock

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middlefade · 6 months

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continued from here / @wanderingxsouls

Decisions, decisions. Gin or jack? Blonde or red? One or two? Some times a girl just can't wait around for the universe to divine things, so she flips a coin. Heads.

She stops by the table to tell them she’s so sorry to have ruined their night but he already has plans and slips a condolence, by way of business card, into the cleavage of the blonde before turning away.

There is already another pursuer slinking up to his side but Stella decidedly obstructs her while she's making up her mind about it.

She has never really felt that three is a crowd but her triumvirates are for women exclusively. She doesn't share men. There is ineffable reasoning behind this dichotomy which has historically existed somewhere between being a girl's girl and the metaphor of Jennifer's Body. She worshiped women, she conquered men. Some see it as if she was both the weapon and the consequence. The allured, eldritch horror that haunts the rocky coast of deep seas and gives birth to the myth of deadly sirens. The personification of the moment you realize you are watching a horror movie. Taylor said it well: a nightmare dressed as a daydream. Most say she's a bitch. All these things are a little bit true. More importantly, these things are not readily evident. Everyone sees the siren, not the rocks. With any luck she'll vanish back into the dark of night before the illusion breaks. She usually does.

Stella plucks the fresh drink from his hand, finishes it, and places the empty glass on the bar top between them. Without a glance at the women she stepped in front, of she rests her forearms on his shoulders and kisses him right on the mouth like a habit. It is not a particularly long kiss — practice has proven it doesn't have to be. Upon pulling back her eyes rake over him, appraising. She hums and turns toward the bartender, "Cash, close out his tab. He has to walk me home."

#alexa play toxic by britney spears #wanderingxsouls #ic: stella monroe.#threaded through.#dakota's information has been added to the pokedex.#BECAUSE HE'S BEEN CAUGHT

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itsbenedict · 3 years

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Two-Faced Jewel: Session 14

A Ferry Good Experience

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party finally wrapped up their business in the small town of Barley, and headed back to Cauterdale to catch the ferry to Thunderbrush across the Bay of Uneasy Repose. In this session, they make a few more last-minute preparations, and embark on a nautical voyage!

Said nautical voyage is swiftly set upon by a few different kinds of trouble.

Before they leave for the docks, Looseleaf catches Orluthe alone while he's having some trouble with street food. There's some sort of tough overcooked octopus dish he can't quite figure out how to eat.

Looseleaf: "You could, maybe, use a knife?" "Or, I guess, maybe you're not supposed to because overcoming a challenge like extremely overcooked seafood is, like, a triumph or something and you're not supposed to back down from those?" "Is that how the cleric thing works?" Orluthe Chokorov: "Sorry, um..." He looks around nervously. "What, um, makes you say that?" Looseleaf: "Well, you know, the fact that, all your combat cantrips involve you declaring how victory is certain or whatever, the fact that after Oyobi dealt with that bobbledragon you channeled your divine avatar to heal Mr. Cutter and your god was all like 'ah, that great beast you have overcome and slain is a honorable offering and you're super cool for having overcome this challenge my man' or whatever..." "Like, I'm just, puttin' all my cards on the table here, it's pretty obvious?" Orluthe Chokorov: "..." "You, uh..." "That's not... something you can, um, prove," he says, unsure.

Looseleaf manages to talk Orluthe into putting his cards on the table, too. Apparently he's next in line to be the head of the Temple of Diamode in his hometown, and he's been sent to study at Blacksky to prepare. Only problem is- he's not a cleric of Diamode. Or even a cleric, for that matter- he's something else, instead. His disposition is noticeably non-Iska-Peakstrider-Goddess-of-Triumph-ish, you might've noticed.

Remember how Orluthe is a shifter? Apparently he thinks of his other form as a different person, and that person is way more in line with Iska and her obsession with victory and superiority. Iska chose his feral warball champion alter ego- the Alpha Doomhound- and has been helping his more mild-mannered side fake being a cleric of Diamode in order to help him attain the headship of the temple for some reason.

Looseleaf... attempts to pry a little more.

After asking a few more questions about how exactly channeling divinity works and feels (kind of incomprehensible sometimes, since godthoughts connect to godmemories you don't have when the channeling ends), Looseleaf reassures Orluthe she'll keep his secret, and the party sets off for the docks.

At the docks, they meet a few goblins from Cauterdale Harbor Management, who tell them all about the amazing deals! Ferry vouchers (like those provided by Blacksky) are four gold, good for any ferry at the harbor- but some ferries cost extra on top of the voucher. Their options are:

The Satellite Islands Transit Company is the budget option, which will get you across the bay for only the price of the voucher- if you're fine riding a crowded and dubiously-seaworthy old tub.

The Cauterdale Armored Navy operate a smaller and more secure ferry- an armored military vessel with advanced protection against sea monsters, for an extra two gold.

Cabana Jim's Pleasure Cruise is an enormous yacht with an onboard spa, for an extra ten gold on top of the voucher- and comes with a coupon for half-off at Cabana Jim's Luxury Resort and Spa.

Looseleaf sees no reason not to cheap out, so they pick the SITC- except Vayen, who goes for the Armored Navy so as not to be on a crowded boat with the rest of the party. Until... the surprise reveal that oops, they've got fantasy airport security, and in order to go on the SITC ferry, they need to submit to an inspection due to an "elevated maritime threat level".

The inspection is pretty thorough, and Saelhen's sleight-of-hand rolls to conceal her knives fail- which they apparently don't care about. What they care about are the party's magic items. The cloak, rug, and pillow all check out, apparently- too minor, not waterproof.

Unfortunately, Saelhen is unable to conceal her bracer, and as it's apparently an ancestral heirloom. They're going to need to put it in a lead carrying case, which costs extra- and also, oops, it doesn't come off Saelhen's arm, so it's going to cost extra extra to stow her entire body in a lead vault.

Why? Because Darkflame Retribution Everwatchful Black Sapphire, Mistress of Turbulent Waters might be out there, and she has a habit of attacking ships to steal powerful magic items. Unnessie just likes fish, and Krakalackie "plays with boats" but is harmless, but "Darkie" is a genuine threat if she senses a magic item.

So, the party instead springs for the Cauterdale Armored Navy ferry, since they have certain measures in case of dragon attack. They head to the boat and find it manned by Medd Cutter, the guardsman they rescued! Also, they find a rich dwarf, a family of gnomes, and Vayen, who is unpleasantly surprised that the party changed their minds and followed him.

Medd explains the security measures on the ship:

The mess hall inside the cabin, which locks with an airtight seal

The recessed seating area on the deck, featuring seatbelts

The diving-bell helmets under the seats, which have an air supply if they get pulled underwater

The magical water-repelling forcefield that holds out long enough to get everyone's helmets on

The levers on the helmets that switch on to make them soundproof in case of dragon

There's a cacophany of acknowledgment from the load of gnome children, and the ferry gets underway.

As they're traveling, Saelhen and Looseleaf ask Kensa why exactly she's so excited to get to Corolos.

They show Kensa the Anycloak, and she immediately loses her entire got damn mind. She offers to do ANYTHING, ANYTHING to have it! Saelhen... takes this as a teachable moment. Kensa needs to learn to haggle.

She doesn't do a particularly good job, and Saelhen gives her some pointers- and eventually agrees to four conjurations per fashion lesson. With that, she puts on the cloak... and makes the Wisdom save that using the cloak triggers.

She gets a 1.

And what happens is... the last thing the cloak transformed into, a super-opulent fancy armored winged battledress... bleeds into the sundress Kensa imagines up. And those elements of the design, leftover from Looseleaf's imagination, seem to Kensa to have been her idea, somehow.

That's... probably... safe??

And soon after Kensa revises her design again, she looks out at the sea, and points at something in the distance, and asks "What's that?"

It's some sort of huge mutant plesiosaur, sniffing at the SITC ferry.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Yamatake, I swear to heaven, if you try this again I will tell the dean that you tried to murder me in my sleep for my valuables." Oyobi Yamatake: "Gods, don't freak out. It's not like I could even fight it anyway! It's under the water!"

Then Unnessie cries out in pain and dives back below the water, leaving the SITC ferry alone. Just as a giant tentacle spears out of the water right next to the party.

Everyone scrambles to get on their seatbelts and helmets as the tentacles wrap around the ship and begin pulling it underwater. The gnome kids scream in terror and/or delight as the parents try to corral them, and the dwarf retreats into the cabin. The party stays out on the deck, and the layers of magic forcefield begin to fail as they're pulled underwater.

So, this incomprehensible warball-field-sized eldritch abomination pulls both the CAN and Cabana Jim ferries underwater, and starts swinging them around. Everyone but Saelhen passes their CON save against nausea!

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I AM A DELICATE FLOWER AND DO NOT DESERVE THIS TREATMENT."

They both roll high on perception, though, and are able to notice...

Benedict I. (GM): After about ten minutes, as promised, the tentacles retract, and the boats begin their ascent back to the surface. The horror retreats back into the depths. Looseleaf: A very timely horror! Most children aren't so fastidious about keeping to their deadline promises. Benedict I. (GM): You break the surface, and after a minute of checks, the magic fields turn off. Water drains out the edges of the boat. Looseleaf: Is this not another example of the marvelous beauty inherent to this world? "That was... actually a lot more- a lot of fun!" "Nobody got hurt, right?" Orluthe Chokorov: "I'm all good!" Oyobi Yamatake: "Oh I have to kill one of those someday." Looseleaf: "Oyobi noooooo. It's just a little baby." Kensa Kanthalga: "That... was fun, right? That was fun? I'm not traumatized?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Well, I had a nice time."

And then, because two sea monsters wasn't enough, something huge and made of deep-blue crystal breaches the surface of the water right next to them, and lazily leans its upper body on the deck.

Everyone immediately switches on their soundproof helmets, and the dragon... pulls out from the water a terrified-looking sahuagin dressed in rags, holding a sign reading "Parley". The dragon performs a lip-zipping gesture, and points at the fishman.

Next time: oh my god a DRAGON in this DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS campaign

#twofaced jewel #tfj log

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