#this oneshot is written with my soul and blood

[fan-goddess]

The decay of marital flesh

Authors Note: This has taken months to complete, and I am so happy that people have taken time to ask me about this and have wanted to have a part two of my original oneshot that I didn’t know would get so popular. So here’s the depressive thing that took me months to compete cause I needed to be in an angsty mood to write. Here’s my blood and angst

Summary: A part two of this piece here. This is the depressing version of it and the other happy part will be linked to this part here.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of f oral, self harm, blood, kinslaying, cheating on partner (I’ve probably no doubt missed warnings so if you see any you think I should add then let me know!)

Taglist: @ietss, @papichulo120627, @rorawinters, @introverbatim, @alicentswife, @brie-annwyl, @victoriagaunt, @kyla44, @pax-2735, @omgbcat @bellameshipper, @coolsiaisaqueenstuff, @snh96, @devils-blackrose, @blue-serendipity, @dahlias-and-marigolds, @glame, @jennifer0305, @humanpurposes, @valeskafics, @aemondwhoresworld @leiakim99

Whenever you slept, somehow the weight of the letter always found a way to haunt you. Whenever your hand managed to sweep under and made direct contact with the paper, it practically burned to the touch with no explanation how.

Klarissa had soon became one of your trusted, friends? She would come into your chambers to place your food in the morn and look at you intently and with questions she herself knew would remain unanswered. You never spoke to her again of the contents of the original letter, nor did she ever thankfully attempt to ever bring it up. It was thing about her you found yourself grateful for.

Though it seemed Klarissas silence on the topic may soon be broken. As recently, more letters, similar to the original, were beginning to make themselves known to you.

Though this time, you cannot bring yourself to read them. You can only stare at them while they burn into nothing in your fireplace. You can only watch as whatever words and meaning they once possessed become ash and soot. Maybe they were letters asking for forgiveness? Or asking for a conference where he begged for you to not spill his blood just as you instructed him that you would? Either way, you held firm belief that nothing of that sort would be happening.

Not while Aemond continued to breathe, and to live.

Aemond does not believe that you are reading any of his letters any more. The maid who had given to you his first letter, whose eyes once held fear of his position, now hold only sympathy and sadness. She doesn’t need to say what he had been fearing. It’s written plain and clearly all over her face.

Still, he can’t help but wish to cry at the realisation, even though he knew it would happen some time or later. An act he does not even think he’s done since he was robbed of his eye. Yet his sudden loss of you, the one person who he should have protected and been with, brings to him more emotion throughout his entire body than he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his sorrow begins to spread through out him, throughout his soul, the tears do not fall. He cannot dare let them. He cannot appear weak in front of the court. He cannot dare appear to be weak in front of you.

His chambers seem all too empty when he enters them. The bed appears stiff and uninviting. The books appear meaningless and empty. Even the fire seems too cold. Even when he begins edging closer and closer to the flames until he’s practically face to face with them.

“Aemond, what are you doing?!” His mothers frantic voice breaks him from his trance before he could fully put his arm in the fire. Only hearing the sudden frantic sound of his mother’s voice does he begin feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. It’s an addictive feeling, as for the first time in months he feels alive. It feels like your fiery touch is caressing him again.

“It does not matter mother… why are you here?” Aemond curtly says, begrudgingly stepping away from the flames to look at her with a soulless eye.

“Aemond, my son, I’m afraid that the court are beginning to talk. They question your marriage, they question your-“

“I do not care about what the people question mother!” Aemond shouts. Raw emotion and anger overflowing from his skin in waves as he stalks to his mother and grips her arms roughly in emphasis of his frustration. He can feel his unkempt nails digging into her arms, and he can even see the slight fear that slowly envelopes her. Yet still, he does not relent on his hold of her, even when she tries to escape from him. “The people do not know how it is I have suffered! How much my wife has suffered! I will not have those insufferable cunts dictating things about my own marriage!”

His nails unknowingly leave small dents in his mother’s arms. His nails which have grown long from neglect begin to draw into her skin so deeply that even with the clothing between the two, he nearly manages draws blood. It’s not even until she begins to wince and voice her pain does Aemond notice what he’s doing to her. What he’s doing to his own mother.

“M-mother I-“

“Save it Aemond. I know you are mourning in your own way. I know that your wife is mourning. She is mourning my son because it was you who betrayed the scared vows the two of you spoke together, and insisted that you drew blood for. It is well within her right to burst down these doors and draw that same blood from you with her own blade. I will not let you drag that girl down with you my son, just because you wish to cling to a long rotted away life that you yourself threw away, all for a fucking bastard wet nurse belonging to house strong!”

Aemond does not move when his mother shouts as him. He does not even blink when his mother’s passionate anger leaves small spit trails on his face. For everything she just said is true. It was him who broke the scared marital bond between him and you. For that, he should suffer no less than a thousand cuts.

Aemonds single eye goes back to the fire where he had sat earlier, and goes to sit there once more. Once again, he does not truly feel the heat it should be providing him. He adds a couple loose logs in the fire, prodding them around slightly with an iron poker.

Aemond drops it though when a log jolts suddenly and startles him, and hisses when the red hot poker makes contact with his upper thigh, burning him. Though he cannot deny the slight satisfaction it brings him to feel the pain flare through his clothes. So he strips himself till he is only in his underclothes, and he does it again, and again. Hissing under his breath each time it makes contact with the pale skin. Maybe this is how he will get closer to you? How he will successfully manage to feel the pain that you felt when you had to push the physical manifestation of his betrayal curse you? He knows it is unlike anything he could ever truly experience, but he has to try. For you, and for the baby he will never meet.

When you begin burning the next letter in the fire, adjusting it slightly with the poker hanging on the side of the fireplace, you can hear an unknown person entering the room with an audible creak coming from the direction of the door. Klarissa had slyly mentioned a few days previous how it was like that due to your infrequent comings and goings. If you didn’t know her name and respect her slightly, you probably would’ve had her relocated immediately for such cheek.

“I think my brother takes great time and thought into writing those letters princess.” A distinctive voice and nickname causes a rare smile to form, still looking at the fire before you.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll learn to be sorry and he’ll learn what my pain was like.” Your voice is surprisingly cold, even with such a warm smile on your lips. It even surprises yourself slightly.

“Well, as much as I do appreciate your determination for damning my brother, I don’t think he’ll share that same sentiment. Do you even read them? Or do you just immediately condemn them to ash? Because I’d hate to think some poor soul like my mother writes a letter to you only to have it thrown to the flames…”

“I’m not that overcome with anger, my prince. I do look at the handwriting of the letters before I, as you so plainly put it, condemn them to ash.” It’s almost annoying how easy it is for Aegon to make you smile. He’s become the light to shine you through your dark ages. A friend amongst the snakes and the thorns that weave and poison the court, looking only in ways to further their power.

“How many times have I told you sweet princess to call me Aegon? I think after everything we’ve done and been through together, we’d have been properly acquainted with each others company. As much as my little brother utterly detests the very idea of it.” Aegon now sits beside you at the fire, his everything already making your tensed frame ease into a more calm and relaxed one. He does not make any move to stop you from making sure the letter is properly burned into nothingness. An act you appreciate immensely.

“My brother, was a fool to believe he needed someone else to comfort him...”

The quick comment is also quickly followed by a deathly sort of silence in the room. The only thing being able to penetrate it being the comforting sound of the crackling flames.

Though not a few minutes after, from the corner of your eye, you can spot Aegons hand slowly and cautiously placing itself on your arm, drawing your attention to him as you cautiously drop the poker and turn to him. His face looks like the one of a deer when it’s caught in a trap, fear and panic. Though by the way he had approached you, it was as if he was trying to approach an unpredictable creature from the forest. A beast.

“Can I be so bold princess, as to say something to you?” His voice is practically one of a whisper. So meek that you didn’t know if you had heard him correctly the first time.

“Of course Aegon? You are my closest confidant.” Your words though, supposed to be ones of comfort, makes Aegons lips turn in a slight grimace. Yet still, he wets his lips before speaking.

“You… are everything any man I think could ever need in a wide. Which is why i am so disappointed in him. Why take that bastard into his bed, when he could have had you…” Aegon then cautiously leads his head forward and captures your open mouth with his own.

You cannot move. You cannot think. You cannot say anything to stop what is going on in that moment. There is only one thing that races specifically through your head however. One question that stands out from the rest.

Do you even want Aegon, your husbands brother, to stop?

In your confusion, you find yourself unable to move a muscle. Only it seems Aegon mistakes your lack of action and your confusion as a direct answer. Since his once shy hands move with a surprising confidence from your arm, to delicately cupping at your cheek and your head.

You cannot deny that the kiss did not leave a warm feeling erupting in your chest, and a fluttering sensation to churn in your heart. Yet there is one other thing you can think off while this is happening. You can only ponder on how strange it truly feels to kiss another man other than your husband. How strange it is to betray your marriage like he had done.

When Aegon finally breaks away from you, you can see that his eyes have grown dark with presumably desire. Yet unlike other men, he makes no move to direct you to the nearest bed like you would expect him to do. Instead, it looks as if his eyes have softened as they look into your own. A strange kind of peace drifting over him that you’d never really seen on him, nor even on another person before.

“Why did you do that…” You mutter, watching the way the flames make his skin look almost golden in the light.

His eyes though still hold that same strange look of softness, and his hand begin to stroke at your cheek with a strange type of fondness.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time now.”

It’s so simple. Spoken so calmly with a careless shrug, that it’s almost as if it was the easiest thing Aegons ever said in his life, and yet it causes an immediate feeling of panic and terror to erupt deep within your chest.

Your head moves your body in such a hurry that you had almost toppled over, if Aegon had not clutched at you so quickly to keep you steady. Yet at the feeling of his practically burning hands on your bare skin you push away from him.

Your head races with the discovery of Aegons… desires? Feelings even? Whatever they are, they’re something you never would’ve known about if not for Aemonds betrayal to his vows.

You know you should be angry at Aegon for what he has done. Angry at yourself even for not immediately pushing him off of you, a still married woman. And yet, when he kissed you, you felt more alive and happy then you’ve felt since Aemonds betrayal.

Even as you pace the room, Aegons keen eyes watch you with concern and slight anticipation at your next move. Like a dog always waiting for it’s masters command. He doesn’t move from the spot he originally sat in, only turning on his and trailing after your pacing with his eyes.

“I don’t know if I could ever love you-“

“You do not have to love me!” At the confession, Aegon is suddenly standing before you, your hands clasped tightly in his. Almost too tightly. As if he was grasping a delicate object he was too afraid would collapse and smash into a thousand pieces. The issue with that concern though, is that you’ve already been broken into thousands of tiny pieces and put back together again. In the end, there’s nothing left for him to break that’s not already been broken before. “All you need to do, my sweet princess, is let me in…”

This time, you do not break away so suddenly from Aegon when he kisses you again. Instead, you tightly grip at his warm fire like flesh in your fingers, and allow for his body to envelope you in senses you thought would never be awoken again.

That night, you felt the crash of everything you have ever been feeling, and everyone that’s made you feel that pain hit you all at once. That night, the hurting finally stopped for a time, and was replaced with only pleasure.

Aemond feels tired, exhausted, and drained, all in one. The words that he attempts to write to you blur all into one as his head swims with an ache that he has no idea whether is due to his deformity or due to his lack of sleep and self care. Either way, it’s in the way, and if Aemond could, he would rip it from his head so he could be done with it all.

He’s seen glimpses and heard plenty of tales of Aegon coming and going from your chambers. Seemingly, a strange bond has formed between the two of you, as before his time at Harrenhal, you’d never spoken to him. Yet now, he hears whispers of his brother leaving your presence and your chambers nearly every day.

Now he not only is jealous of his brothers soon to be crown. Now, he must bear witness and be forced to sit and wallow in his jealousy of Aegons access to your touch and your voice. Of Aegons access to his wife.

The letter in front of him, his unknown number attempt at reconciliation, is half written. The quill in his hand half poised to write as it drips dark raven ink onto the page and bleeds onto the dark oak desk.

Maybe he should write it with his own blood? Slice his palm and let it drip into a cup, before dipping his quill into it and writing his heartbreak with it. If he shows you how much he’s willing to bleed for you, maybe you’ll finally be willing to read his words and allow him to see you again…

There’s now a cramp in his hand from where he’s paused himself, and yet he strangely relishes in the onslaught of dull pain being given to him by his hand and head.

Maybe it’s a sign from the gods that he should stop himself? For he betrayed both the maiden and the mother when he laid with that fucking witch from Harrenhal, and it feels as if he should be praying nightly to the father for him to be brought to justice for you.

However now, with the considerable amount of time that he is being forced to spend away from you and your arms, he feels as though he should pray to the Stranger, late at night, when the moon is high and full. He should pray to him to slice his head from his shoulders and place him away from his misery forever more.

Though with his Targaryen heritage, there is no doubt that they have been waiting for an opportunity like this to pluck him and his family from their very roots for their many sins…

It has been a few months since you, ‘let Aegon in’, as he’d so put it. Though if you were to be honest with yourself, you’ve never felt as calm of character, as you were when you were with Aegon.

Still, you must admit, that whenever his head of short and unkempt silver hair is laid in your lap, facing away from you, your mind begins to wander of other things. You end up always thinking of his hair being twice as long, and his body being twice as lean.

You concluded that the gods must be punishing you for your sins. For practically abandoning your husband for a man of his own blood and partaking in pleasures of the flesh with him. But if this was how the gods had decided to punish you, how were they punishing Aemond…

“It is alright my love, we do not need to do it again until you are willing.” Aegon had said whilst stroking the bare skin of your arm with a distinguishable fondness.

You hadn’t the strength to tell him that the reason why you could not bring yourself to lay with him again is because the memory of Aemond still lives on in you forever. The ones that used to make you smile in fondness, but now make you wish to tear out his other eye with your bare hands and have his blood drip from your fingernails.

Aemonds memory that constantly lies within you is now a plague. A plague of constant mourning and sadness. A plague that is never ending and never relenting.

The memory of him still lives on months later, where for the first time ever, you leave your room dressed properly and looking like a true lady of the court. Aegon stands by your side in what you believe in his eyes is for your protection. But why would you need protection when your heart has been broken and stitched back together carelessly two times already?

Though as Aegons tries to murmur what your sure is meant to be encouraging murmurs of affection in your ear, your ears prick up to the sound of a familiar sound of footsteps, and you look up and connect eyes with your husband.

Your feet stop where they stand, and Aegons hands clench firmly against your own as he continues murmuring some kind of unknown gibberish in your ear. But you ignore him and look only at your husband. Who in turn, stares only at Aegons hands that are intwined in your own. You can see even from where you are standing, the way his brows furrow in annoyance at the sight, and somehow, you can feel your heart break for the third time in your lifetime as Aemond swiftly walks away without sparing you another glance.

You’re here. You’re walking close as can be with his brother and you’re standing in front of him looking at him with shocked doe like eyes.

The anger that blooms in his chest is nothing like the anger he felt when he killed Luke. It’s nothing similar to the anger he felt when he faced the injustice of his father when he was robbed of his eye. This is a new type of anger. It’s an obsession. A new type of injustice that only the feeling of blood on his skin could possibly have the power to diminish. But not your blood. Never your blood. No. Aemond craves Aegons blood on his blade.

He doesn’t even realise that he walked away from you until he looks around and realises he’s in his chambers, and his eye stares at the half written letter that still pathetically lays on his desk. An old pot of ink and a ruffled quill still waiting for him to pick up again.

His rage that still boils like a dragons fire within him feels no bounds as he tempts himself into ripping the letter. Into grabbing his dagger tucked away in his belt and stalking his way through the passages to Aegons chambers, where he’d wait till the sun goes down to strike him when he least expects it, and grin as Aegons chokes on his blood with fear and betrayal in his eyes. Watching with glee as Aegon dies for his crime. Trying to take what rightfully belongs to him.

But then, Aemond properly begins to think. You seemed to be close to be brother, if the closeness Aegon held you and the way he so closely whispered into your ears meant anything. If he killed his brother, it would only mean that he killed another one of the people you cared about. And Aemond refused to give you another reason for you to be scornful of him.

Aemond gives in though and rips the letter on the desk, and with a huff begins a new one. His anger and his frustration clear in his writing and with how many times the quill almost goes through the page with how fiercely and carelessly he uses it. He imagines your happiness though as he writes. The way you used to smile at him with such unique brightness. The way your cheeks would flush a beautiful light pink when he teased you. He even dared to think and reminisce on the way your face would shift into one of pure pleasure when he’d sit before the heaven that lay between your thighs, and lick and suck till he felt you spill no less than three times on his tongue.

The last thought soured though as he imaged Aegon seeing you like that. Seeing your smile, your happiness, your pleasure. The grip on his quill so strong he felt it snap between his fingers. A sharp shard of it bringing a small drop of blood to drop and pool on the page bellow. Yet Aemond didn’t choose to begin a new letter clear of his blood. He allowed it to stay there and continue with the same paper, so he could show his devotion to you. So he could show his willingness to bleed for you. Show how much he values his vow to shed as much blood as he needed to in order to achieve your forgiveness. It was truly an addictive thought, seeing you again. And one he could never stop running through his head when he thought of the future.

Aemond finished the letter, writing on the paper front and back with no less than three separate pages before he deemed his rant to be over. Blood pooling on various areas on all of them. His fingers now cramping around the new quill that he’d grabbed with each flex of his hand, and the ache that has sadly dulled around the cut to Aemonds relief remains pungent. If he could, he would pray to all Seven Gods for the wound to never heal. So you could see his devotion to you. To witness the death of his sanity in front of your very eyes.

There are no guards outside the front of your chambers. A fact Aemond cannot help but be disgusted by when he sees it as he walks to the familiar doors. Later that night he’ll find those two men tasked with the purpose of keeping you safe, and he’ll make sure to strip them of whatever dignity and honour they believed to possess. Perhaps the comfort of the wall would suit them nicely? Or the kiss of his blade?

Aemond raises his fist to knock at the door, but voices keep him from doing so. Specific voices. Yours and Aegons voices…

Before he knows it, Aemond is pushing himself against the wood as much as he can so he can hear every beautiful syllable of your voice. He does not care at first for the meanings behind them, but he certainly begins to when he realises what he is listening too are some very familiar high pitched sounds. Breathless sounds that Aemond had told you on yours and his wedding night that only he would hear.

While Aemond waits outside your door, he can hear your voices of pleasure radiating from the other side.

His fists are clenched no more to knock, but instead in anger. And the dulled throb of the small cut earlier on his hand flares up again as it reopened from his carelessness. Yet instead of moving to stem the blood, Aemond grows an idea deep from within him. Aemond snatches his dagger from his belt, and with no hesitation, quickly slices a deep mark on his inner palm.

His posture and frame is deathly still while the blood begins to heavily pool and drip onto the ground, only moving to place his hand firmly against the wooden door, watching it drip down the dark wood and trail to the stone flooring.

He can see the large puddle flow under your door, and Aemond wishes nothing more at that moment for you to see it. To see him. To see his devotion. His love. His sacrifice for you. If he hadn’t already lost it, Aemond would’ve torn out his eye and shoved it under the door too as a gift for you to make you stop your torturing of his soul.

Aemond only steps away when the blood pool reaches his shoes, and even then it’s with great resistance from himself as he stuffs the still bleeding wound against his dark coat that already begins to rapidly absorb the blood. He can even feel it soak his undershirt and his skin.

He goes straight to his chambers that night instead of paying a visit to the maesters. He does the same the next night, and the one after that.

Instead, Aemond relishes in the look he receives from Aegon the next morning. The look of utter horror and fear that speaks at least over a thousand words. The look that tells him you now finally know of his gift and his devotion to you. The look that tells him he is one step closer to you again.

Aemond Targaryen refuses to rest until he is drained entirely of his blood and it is pooled directly at your feet. He refuses to rest until his heart is laid bare in his hands and is presented to you like a septa presents the gods with their offerings. Until his name can be uttered from your precious lips without your own heart breaking from sorrow.

Aemond Targaryens heart could break a thousand times over, each time bloodier than the next, but he refuses to allow yours to break again. Not by his hand at least…

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x you #aemond targaryen request #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #the death of a life au

[simpinformonkies]

I am absolutely THRIVING for your oneshots

Uhhhh sooo as an angst addict may I request a oneshot with MK where the reader gets severely injured (and dies if you’re willing to write that much angst)

I just listened to Little Fall of Rain from Les Miz and it has filed my need for angst

BRO I LOVE ANGST GUHHHH I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANY SO HERE'S SOMETHING I SCROUNGED UP REALLY QUICK! ENJOY!

~~~

WARNING: GRAPHIC DEATH, BLOOD, LOSS OF LIMB. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!! ~~~

MK / QI XIAOTIAN

The first time MK calls and you don't pick up, he just shrugs it off- 'They're probably at work,' he thinks to himself, 'they'll call me back when they get time.'

The second time it happens, something coils in his gut and tells him that something is up, but he just shrugs it off as best he can, ignoring the feeling.

The third time, anxiety settles in the pit of his stomach and insecurities knock at his door like old (toxic) friends. 'Maybe they finally got sick of you~' the voices whisper, liquid poison dripping off their lips and leaving burning, acidic scars across his mind and soul, cutting in his heart with sharpened knives and even sharper words.

The fourth time is the one where you answer-

-but it wasn't you.

No, whoever had your phone wasn't you, and that same ugliness rears its head again, and for the first time, MK calls Mei to get her to use the camera she installed on you (just as she had done to all her friends. MK still finds it creepy, but whatever, it's helpful now) to figure out your location.

Mei manages to ping the location, and MK storms in, anger burning in his gut because someone took the one that was HIS. Took HIS moonlight.

And when MK gets there, he is horrified.

There you lay, in-between crates, missing a leg and left in a puddle of crimson, staining your shirt as scarlet as a spider lilies. Your blood stains the ground, and its not warm when he scrambles towards you to hold your body.

No, you were cold. Frigid, more like.

You died long before he even got there, and MK felt a part of his heart tear apart to nothing but withered, torn scraps. MK could do nothing but hold your cold corpse in his hands, uncaring of how your blood stains his hands and clothes, and sob.

~~~

The day of your funeral is not what MK expected.

He expected the skies to open up and mourn an innocent life lost- the life of his beloved, of his moonlight; the one that hung the stars and kept him down to earth no matter how high he attempted to reach.

But no- the skies were sunny and bright.

Somehow, that just made this entire situation even worse- because of course the heavens wouldn't mourn his beloved. Why would they? Bastard immortals.

Even as the sun beats down on his body, MK stands before your grave, clutching your sweater- the very same you had died in, something he had washed to get out the blood and yet the scent of death still sticks like glue- in his hands, staring down at your newly engraved tombstone.

Something ugly and dark curls and bubbles in his chest, and MK's lips wobble weakly, tears burning his eyes even when his gaze sharpens like a newly polished sword.

"I'll avenge you," MK promised to himself, voice nothing but a whisper, yet carrying through the air, "I'll find who took you from me, and I'll take everything from them."

And that was a promise that he was going to keep, no matter what.

#lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #nilo dabbles #writing prompt #writing requests #lmk mk x reader #mk x reader #angst #tw: death

[art-crumbs-main]

Hello. This is a oneshot fic about the cursed cat Alastor on my dash I wrote in 2 hours. No beta, we die like demons.

A.K.A, where Alastor went for 7 years. Whether I finish this is up on the wall, but I haven't written in a while and have been dying to. Here's a drabble to get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy.

CW: murder basement, implied cannibalism, Alastor being a prick, three dickhead cats

It is a happy day in Hell, and you are a horrible cat.

Your name is Alastor, and due to some unfortunate circumstances of a deal you made to save your own hide, you have found it transformed. If a bit inconvenient, your new body isn't terrible-- it doesn't quite strike fear the way it used to, but it's quite covert and just as deadly. Being something so unassuming most certainly has its perks, and you're not going to complain about all of the new information you've gained about your new surroundings. Not to mention, anything, frankly, other than a dog is fine by you, and (you're sure) by Rosie, for that matter.

Yes, your old friend, Rosie. Naturally, you're on her way to her now. You'd managed to find her in your afterlife pre-predicament, and while you know she won't recognize you at first, you're counting on the fact that she has a certain fondness for the softer things in life. Cannibal Town has been a godsend, truly the only place in Hell you immediately felt like you belonged, and finding someone you knew and quite cherished in life there didn't hurt to mould a rather high opinion of the place.

You find her at once after walking through town, of course, and who wouldn't? That distinct voice could turn heads from across the room. Or, better yet, across the square as she announces she would be off shift for tea. Tail up in the air and head cocked, you pad into town hall and find her back in a rather cozy study, munching on a bit of demon flesh with her cup. It smells fresh, and the blood coating her lips is immediately enticing, but it is far more important to get her attention first and foremost.

Swallowing your pride, you make your way across the room to her, and rub against her leg, a horrible chattering sound escaping your feline throat. You despise so much bodily contact most of the time, but Rosie has always felt rather safe to you. As such, it's not as abhorrent as you expect, and it's quite effect. You hear her gasp and you know you'd gone about this correctly.

“Oh?? Who's this, findin' his way into my private area?” She picks you up and places you on her lap. You feel small. You don't like it. She strokes you, and the fur on your tail stands on end. If she takes notice, she doesn't show it. “I'm on break, y'know, little guy! Oh, but I can't say no to a face like that... I'll take an appointment. Just for you.” Unable to thank her, rather sardonically, you make a crackling noise that resembles absolutely nothing even close to human speech. She laughs --a bright sound that made your ears flick fondly-- and scratches behind your ears. Most embarrassingly, you find yourself leaning into it. It does really feel quite nice... You lay down on her lap, suppressing the infernal motor wishing to spark to life in your chest. You must preserve whatever small dignities you have left.

Your eyes open (you're rather startled to find that they had ever closed) when Rosie offers you something from her plate, the darling. You have a passing thought about such things being unsanitary, but you don't object. You swipe it from her and take it with your rather useless mittens, licking and gnawing at it with hooked tongue and sharp teeth. She coos at you some more, which is rather embarrassing, but you can't say you didn't expect, and you let it fade into the background as you start figuring out how to divise a plan to make Rosie aware of who you really are and what you've become. You're not entirely sure why, but you have a distinct feeling she can help you. More than anyone else.

You wouldn't dare summon one of your soul contracts, after all. Sure, you could always threaten them into silence, but it's about the principle of the thing. Husk, for instance, would probably laugh in your face, and you can't have your reputation tarnished as such. Niffty... you have no idea what she'd do. Rather unpredictable, that one, though you quite appreciate her unhinged company. Anyone else is either dead by now, or too far beneath you for you to possibly offer you anything useful. You're startled from your deep train of thought by Rosie nudging you into a standing position. “Well, alright, this engagement has been lovely, but I'm gonna need my legs to work, I'm afraid!"

You nodand jump off of her, and she regards you with a funny sort of expression. Too busy to dwell, you suppose, she shrugs it off for the time being and returns to her post. You can only hope that she'll put together that something isn't quite right. Finding yourself alone, you decide to explore.

You'd been in Rosie's dwelling enough times, but never like this. Everything is so big compared to you, and the weight of it all pins your ears flat to your skull. In annoyance, mind, not intimidation. You're not as mobile, nor do you have the same perspective on life that you used to, and that's going to make investigating difficult.

What you're hoping to find, plain and simple, is something that could help you signal to Rosie that you're not some mindless beast. You note her radio with a certain pride. You're sure even before you found her, knowing her tastes, she probably listened to your show... Oh, your show. You can't possibly run it in a form like this. You can't talk! All you can do with your given vocal chords is screech into a microphone and hope someone finds it appealing. You sigh. Passions will have to be grieved at a later date. There are other things you would do better to focus your energy on.

You search the kitchen and the larder. Fresh meat is hanging from meat hooks in a chilled section of the place. You sniff at it, and its sharp smell confirms your suspicions. Rosie must have made a deal recently. You walk out of there, manipulating the doorknobs as such, and pad back into her parlor. There's a table and cozy chairs, and bookshelves-- those could be an option. After all, if you saw a cat reading a book, you would certainly think to question it. You'll reserve it as an option. It could be good if you finish exploring and need something to pass the time.

You skip over her chamber. It's not your place to go snooping in a lady's quarters uninvited. Besides, you're sure you won't necessarily find anything of use in it. You also skip over the restroom. Anything that could help you in there, isn't necessarily something you want anything to do with.

The basement is locked, but that poses little obstacle to you. You still have some of your powers, after all. You only have to look at it for it to click and open for you, the door swinging on its hinges. You suppose you could always show Rosie your magic, but you're not sure that would be enough on its own to tell her not just what, but who you are. You trust in her intelligence, but even you think you might not be able to figure it out just by the cat possessing telekinesis. Sure enough, it is Hell. There are stranger things afoot (or a-paw, you suppose) than a cat with psychic abilities.

You descend the stairs and your ears immediately prick at the moans of the wretched. You hear someone start to beg for their life, and another person exhale a gurgly breath. Your tail waves contentedly. The sounds of the broken and destitute never fail to bring up your day. Upon seeing that you are apparently small and cuddly, the begging stops short, and the poor soul it was coming from slumps back into despair. Rosie has to keep her surplus fresh, you suppose. What better way than alive? You pad up to her more lively prisoner and jump up on his lap, fixing him with a gaze devoid of sympathy.

In a desperate bid to self-soothe, he reaches up to pet you.

You bite him.

He swears, rather uncouth, you think, and attempts to swat you away from him. You evade expertly and swat back, swiping him across the face. He clutches his newly-bleeding wound and cries out. You land and turn up your chin, turning tail while you're at it, and pad back towards the stairs. You're not sure what he expected, behaving so rudely. Touching you without your permission. The nerve. The audacity. The pure entitlement! You stop at the base of the stair to lick the blood from your paw. Rather unbecoming of you to be covered in the essence of such simple-minded, inconsiderate filth.

At the top of the incline, three pairs of eyes shine down at you from their shadows. They whisper amongst themselves, before the leader of them trills down at you. To your surprise, you understand her perfectly. Mrrrow? “Just who are you?" You stop grooming and cock your head.

Prrrip! Purr-- purreow. “Who am I! You've some nerve-- I admire that.” You start up the stairs. Rrrreow. Mr-mrreow! “I've just as much right to be here as any of you, and you should know already that this bid for intimidation you've got going on isn't about to work.” The others bristle. A low growl comes from the ringleader's throat.

Rrrrrrrrrrrr... “Do watch yourself, stranger. When I asked you who you are, I meant it earnestly. Your smell is strange to me.” She hisses. “I suggest you mind your manners and answer my question to save us all quite a bit of trouble. Are you new? A stray?” You narrow your eyes.

Prrr! “Trouble! Oh, dear, well, surely no one would want that," you shoot back playfully, “And just what kind of "trouble" might I be inviting?” One of her posse finally gathers the nerve to speak for herself.

Rrrrrrrroooooowwwwww... “For you? The trouble of being torn to shreds. For us? The trouble of picking your sinew from our teeth.” You trill, amused.

Chrrrreow! “Hahaha! My, how assured of yourselves you must be. It's adorable, ladies, really. This has been fun, but let me on by, if you would. I need to keep looking for ways to communicate with your master.” They look at each other, seem to come to an agreement, and part for you. You walk past them, tail waving, entirely expecting what happens next.

The three of them, in their combined power, pounce upon you and begin trying to do as they threatened. You let them tear you up a bit --it'll make your case when you go running to Rosie far more convincing-- before you strike back, summoning your lovely pet to knock them away with its numerous shadowy limbs. They skid across the floor one by one and scatter, fur on end. A bunch of fraidy cats after all, you suppose. You hear Rosie enter the room, drawn by the commotion, you suppose.

“Mr. Radio Demon!” she scolds. You look up at her. Wait, what? She sighs. “Oh, what, you thought I wouldn't recognize the feeling of your power? Give me some credit, Al.” She interrupts your relief as she picks you up by the scruff, resting her hand on her hip. You attempt to struggle, but this is apparently your weak point-- your body is useless like this. Embarrassing as it is, it's somewhat comforting. It sort of reminds you of when you mother would grab you by your ear to scold you as a child. “Now, just what are you doin', terrorizing my cats.” Your tail waves with annoyance. They attacked YOU. Not your fault you defended yourself. After a pause, you realize she expects you to answer her. You stare at her, rather deadpan. You open your mouth and meaninglessly chatter at her.

This seems to trigger her realization.

Only just now apparently deciding to be of help, your shadow comes around and taps Rosie on the shoulder. It communicates via gestures that you're not in this form of your own will, and can't speak, and she arches her eyebrow. Then, she bursts into laughter, setting you on the floor. “Oh! Oh, Lord, what kinda mess did you get yourself into this time?" She wipes at her eye. “I'll tell you what, let me finish my work day, and then I'll call around and see what we can do to get you back to your regular imposing self, hmm?”

You blink at her in acknowledgement, irritation (however fond) plain in your gaze, and she just laughs again. “Oh, pray I don't change my mind! You're adorable! Y'know how much I like a fluffy thing with whiskers.” She kneels down and pets you, smoothing out your fur and scratching behind your ears again. They pin flat, but you don't shy away from her.

You have a feeling it's going to be a long time waiting.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #cursed cat alastor #fanfiction #oneshot #radiorose qpr #writing #writeblr #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #hazbin fanfic

[ravenlking]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄 finally, i get my own happily ever after. because the words written on your wrist...is my name

gender-neutral warnings: mentions of war and slight ptsd genre: angst + fluff a/n: - blame @faebaex for the sudden lilia brainrot lmao. i should be doing my hw but here i am! - yes, i cameo-d! hehe, be prepared for more of me popping up in the oneshots! :) - pictures don't belong to me, they go to their original owners! - please give me feedback :)

Let me know if you'd like more!

𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Thousand of years filled with the bloodshed of the fallen and innocent filled Lilia Vanrouge's nights. It was like an endless repeat to curse him for his sins, the blood that he may never be able to wash off his hands. Everything was a bitter reminder of the wars; the winter snow resembling the ashes of burned-down villages, screams of delighted children were too similar to screams of innocent children being burnt alive...he couldn't help the onslaught of red-stained memories plauging his mind. Tonight was no different as the war-general snapped out of his slumber, sweat drenching his pink-black locks and pillow. He raised a tired hand against his forehead and sighed. It seemed that he wouldn't be getting a good night's sleep again.

Tomorrow was the opening ceremony, the bright red circle on his calendar reminded him. Sebek would be joining them. Lilia chuckled under his breath at the chaos the lime-green first year would bring. It would mark the start of another school year, another year of mischief and mayhem from this mischievous fae.

Lilia turned and tossed around on his bed, trying to regain the lost hours of sleep. He caught sight of his bare wrists and let out another heavy sigh.

Soulmates...a person that fate promised each and every soul. It signifies a happily ever after with someone they were bound to fall in love with, someone to come home to after a long day at work or someone to jump into your arms with a gleeful smile all because they were able to see you again. Yet, Lilia Vanrouge's wrists remained bare of any ebony-black writing. Was this fate's way of punishing him for his sins? The war he led, the soldiers that were never able to get back home...perhaps it was for the best that he never burdens someone else.

Something painful filled his chest. He sat up, groaning and pressing a hand to the wound that never healed, even after centuries. No...it wasn't his wound flaring up again. But perhaps the late night would do him good. He slid the silk sheets off his petite body and his feet found his slippers. He wrapped a lime green robe over him before approaching the balcony belonging to the room of Diasomnia's vice dorm-leader.

The stars were rather beautiful tonight, he mused. He leaned against the barrister, tilting his head up. How many nights has it been since he was able to relax like this?

Something quick, the color of pure snow, flashed across the night sky. Lilia stood at attention, magenta eyes tracking it. A shooting star, symbolizing new dreams and wishes to be granted. Perhaps...it was worth a try? He had nothing to lose anyways. He clasped his hands together, squeezing his eyes shut.

Please, he prayed. Grant me my soulmate, even after all my sins. I promise to love them with all my heart and soul. Whoever you are, this is my confession. As dark as my past has been, I will always find enough light to adore and love them with all the broken pieces my soul is composed of.

He cracked open an eye. The night sky was barren of the shooting star. Whether it heard him or not doesn't matter. Lilia's hands slumped to his sides. It was getting late, he should try sleeping a bit before tomorrow's busy ceremony. He turned on his heel and walked back.

"Your prayer has been heard, Lilia Vanrouge."

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

The large double doors leading to where the Opening Ceremony was being conducted slammed open, revealing a panting fae with pink-black hair. He fed the premises before judging the distance was far enough. He turned on his heel and quietly teleported somewhere else, popping up somewhere far away. Lilia leaned against one of the trees in the Courtyard, tilting his head back and giving out a bitter chuckle.

One of the first years looked all too similar to one of the younger soldiers that died in the war. Long charcoal black hair with bright purple eyes was all it took to unlock the barricade of memories. Bittersweet memories of battle-hardened Lilia Vanrouge and little Raven King hanging out together after long days on the battlegrounds. Sweet memories were tainted crimson as he fell to his knees, bundling up her charcoal black hair that was stained with her blood.

In the present time, Lilia's eyes were glassy and glazed over, blankly staring at the ground before him. As memory after memory tortured him, his breathing became more labored before it was getting harder to breathe. He didn't notice someone creeping closer towards him in curiosity before noticing his labor breaths. You approached him before shaking his shoulders.

"Mister? Sir, are you okay?!"

"Y-you're dying," Lilia choked out, falling to his knees and crawling closer to his young charge. Raven smiled weakly before coughing roughly, little blood spits dotting the ground around them. Lilia's eyes widened before he brought her head into his lap, stroking her hair softly. He placed a hand on her forehead, mouth opening to chant a healing spell despite the seriousness of the wound before she spoke.

"L-Lilia," Raven choked out. "I-It's okay. S-save...breath...fight on."

"Mister?! Oh my days...sir! Please! Breathe!"

The way Raven smiled at him, even with her face dirtied by the dust storm and splattered with the sword wound, it brought him to tears. He knew he shouldn't have gotten close to a friend, but he couldn't help the way his walls fell upon seeing her childlike happiness.

"D-don't forget me," Raven took a shaky breath. "Live...happy forever, o-okay?"

"Sir, wake up! Wake up!"

His world seemed like it was being shaken. He kept staring into Raven's violet eyes, which were beginning to dim. His own magenta eyes widened as he shook her. Blood. It continued to flow out of her wound.

"Raven! Raven Leonidas King, wake up!" He choked out. "Your general orders you to! Damn it, wake up!!"

Her head lolled to the side as she took her last breath before falling still. A strangled cry filled the air, sounding monstrous in nature. He barely realized the way the shout tore at his throat as he cradled her body, hands glowing lime as he desperately tried to pour his magic into you, trying to bring the dead back to the realm of the living.

"Sir!!"

Lilia gasped for breath, coughing slightly as he attempted to blink away the tears from his eyes. How humiliating to break down, he was thousands of years old, damn it! He shouldn't be bawling his eyes like some sort of baby. Yet, here he was.

"Erm- hello?"

He turned to face you, a surprised gasp escaping him.

"My dear, I'm so sorry you had to see me in that state." He leaped to his feet before bowing. His cheeks burned at the pure embarrassment he was feeling. "I assure you, I am not always like that."

You awkwardly clasped your hands together.

"Are you okay?" You repeated. You shuffled your feet, looking down. Suddenly, the ground seemed so interesting to you. "It's just- you seemed so sad. So lonely."

Lilia paused, before raising an arm to pat your shoulder. The ebony-black words on his wrist stopped him in his tracks immediately. All his life, his wrists were bare of words. Since when did they appear?!

"Y/N...L/N?" He muttered out in confusion as you snapped your head up.

"Yeah?"

Awkward silence rang in the air. Lilia stepped forward, hands trembling as he pointed to your wrist.

"M-may I?"

You blinked at him again before shrugging. "No clue what you're looking for, but okay...?"

Lilia tugged the ceremonial robes away from your wrist before he laughed, half in relief while the other half could similar to hysteria. There, written as plain as day, was his name in neat cursive.

Perhaps his prayer had been heard. He thanked any deity that he had been blessed with a soulmate.

"What on earth?" You gaped at the words on your wrist. As far as you knew, you never got a tattoo! You were sure of it! Why was everything happening so weirdly; first you woke up almost being boiled alive by some strange tanuki and now this-

Before you got the chance to speak another word, Lilia fell to his knees, head bowed as he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist. You felt your heart flutter.

"I waited for you my entire life," Lilia looked up into your eyes, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. "and you were worth every minute."

A soulmate for him...his own soul glowed brightly once more. For once, the crimson-stained memories were pushed aside as he abruptly swept you into a dip, charmingly grinning at you.

"My love, I am Lilia Vanrouge. But for you, I'll be anything you ask for. You could break my heart into tiny little pieces, and I'd still pick them up and put them back in your hands. Because you're worth it. No matter what."

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Somewhere in the Opening Ceremony, a young girl with long ebony hair and purple eyes smirked secretively, tucked behind one of the numerous pillars scattered in the room. Her mission, to unite Lilia Vanrouge and yourself, was completed; she had no other reason to stay in this world. Yet, Raven Leonidas King stared around her, a painful tugging in her chest as she met the eyes of the characters she loved. The smirk on her face slowly melted into a sad expression. Her life in the outside realm couldn't even be the happiness she feels in Twisted Wonderland. She had no reason to stay since her duty was completed, but she had no reason to go. In fact, she desperately wanted to cling to the magic of this world she loved oh so much.

The rules dictated it so. She had to leave. Her black wrist watched beeped as her time slowly came to an end. Raven let out a painful sigh before taking one last look at all the characters and the world she loved. Raven reluctantly turned on her feet, disappearing in a wave of purple. Similar to a certain dragon fae's magic, the only thing left of Raven was purple butterflies who slowly flew out of the chamber, leaving no trace of the student.

"Wasn't there supposed to be one more student joining us?"

"I have no clue what you are talking about, dorm leader."

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland oneshots #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #soulmate au #soulmate #thewordsonmywrist...raven

[puhmpken]

Hii!! How are you? I’m here to request something if that’s okay :D anyways I’ll start!

I was wondering if I could request Alastor with a GN! Reader who has a Yuno Gasai Personality from Future Diary? Everything should be explained in the link I setted here ^_^ have fun with this!

素敵な一日をお過ごしください。

this has NOT been edited

Authors Note: I am doing good! I am excited because this is my first request, while I am working on upcoming books! But ofc I can do this! I hope this is too your liking and you enjoy it!

Make sure your staying hydrated, healthy & happy! <3

In the sprawling labyrinth of Hell, where souls clash and demons reign, a presence lingers & hides in the shadows, fixated on one soul.

“I have been watching him for so long,” Y/N murmurs softly to themselves, hidden from view, there (e/c) reflecting the dawning red in the sky, their eyes trained on Alastor as he strolls through the chaotic streets of Pentagram City.

“I know his favorite music..the whiskey he savors at the bar. I watch him whenever I can and read all the papers about him.”

“Many say he’s a menace, deserving the blade of a exterminator’s spear through his heart. While others don’t view him fondly, labeling him as mean and ruthless.”

“But those people no longer exist.”

Title: Diary of the Obsessed (oneshot)

Written/Edited By: @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

In the heart of Hell, where chaos and darkness is on every turn and corner. Sinners run free and practically wild, while some quench the thirst for blood due to their human life. Others take shelter wanting to hide and keep there head for another day to come.

Alastor was one of those chaos, he was a overlord in hell. Who was powerful, many feared him, while others want to kill him and take his spot. You weren’t that case at all. You can’t remember how or even why you got to hell, but you assumed you had committed sin..maybe you stole candy from a baby smh.

It’s a blur, you just remember waking up to a red filled sky with a pentagram and the rest was history. You were a quiet soul, never bothering anyone and always moving swiftly to get where you needed to go. Everything in this “hell” life was boring, it was merely black and white for you. Well all up until you bumped into a deer demon.

He was a overlord in hell, but that’s not what attracted you to him no..no far from it. It was the way how he carried himself, walking with the ego of a god, talking with so much wit and passion about certain sinners. You couldn’t help but feel under a trance by this demon, it was a spark in your dead heart. It felt like it was beating again and dancing to the sound of his voice when he spoke.

You enjoyed this feeling a lot, it made your life easier, gave you a reason to go outside and stroll around.

You sometimes hid in the dark of corners or walk across the street from him to watch him in the corner of your eye. You can tell he wasn’t aware of your doing, just going on with his day doing his normal set routine. This slowly morphed into a obsession with the radio demon you had.

Your once normal life, was filled with stocking or running into him. Maybe he would catch on? But it didn’t faze you, it only pushed you more. It was like a game of a mice catching cheese.

Morning. The sky was always filled with red, the screams of the few who woke you up out of your sleep.

Yawning sitting yourself up. You lived by yourself in a single, almost run down apartment on a upper building floor. You couldn’t complain to much about it, your lucky to be even living somewhere like this, you could’ve been going in and out of motels but you had a place to call home..kinda of

Today was like any other day you got up from your bed, the wood creaking under you with every step you take as you made your way to the bathroom.

Going through your daily routine to fix yourself up and put on your work clothes, you brushed out (h/l) white, sandy tan hair. Making sure to style it correctly. You were a worker under Rosie in her emporium, the job didn’t call for a lot of action, all you had to do was seat behind a desk in the front near the door to ring up customers as the purchased whatever items they could find in her store.

And she carried a lot.

You were her only worker, well besides Franklin but she had disappeared a while after a recent extermination under questionable circumstances, you didn’t need a psyche to put two-and-two together to known Rosie may had something to do with it.

But nevermind that, you made your way out the run down apartment with nothing in hand besides a bottle of water, and the keys to your room hidden away in your pocket. You wore clothes appropriate to the job and ones that Rosie wouldn’t be able to say a witty comment about.

The doorbell chimed as you pushed it open, being first greeted by the smell, of flowers mixed in with smell of something being made you couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was almost like meat?

You sat down behind the desk as you cupped your hand towards your mouth before saying

“Ms. Rosie! Where are you?” You waited a moment as it went quiet, the lights where on? That means she had to be here..somewhere. You turned your head sideways, leaning a ear out to possible hear any nearby movements, no clicking of a heel or laughter to hear, which is peculiar for her in most cases.

‘Maybe I thinking to much, and she just went outside for a moment’ You tell yourself as you walked behind the counter setting up your little check out station.

Just as you finally finish up your station, you hear a bell that chimes. A scruffy looking demon fella wasn’t too tall, he held a box about the same size of his chest,

“I have a uh umm package for Ms. Rosie” He said as his eyes began looking at you before the drifted off away from you probably looking at the different items, ‘fella probably never been inside of a emporium’

“I can take it” You say as he approaches your counter placing the cardboard down on the table, signing off for the package he leaves

Grabbing the package, you felt a vibration of sorts,’What in the..’ You thought to yourself, as you felt the box buzz..one time and then again.

‘That’s weird, what’s in there..’ You question to yourself, as you heard the third buzz go off. Your eyes drift to the clock hanging on the wall,

‘Great and it’s barely 10:40am’ You sighed, without Ms. Rosie there you, would more than likely have to run the store by yourself. Just until she gets there at least, you were kinda trained in it..just don’t let nobody steal from the shop and you keep your job

As the day slowly began to pick up, you moved the cardboard box down from your counter to under hidden from the eye of really anybody, unless they were to walk behind the counter, as the hour started to pass, you noticed something kinda peculiar..the box, it seemed to buzz every 10 minutes. You realized this, when you counted the buzzes you received..five buzzes the whole hour.

‘I gotta open it..’ You thought to yourself, as you waved by to the last person it was now 12 o’clock, Rosie still hadn’t made contact with the store or even appeared it almost like she’s gone missing or disappeared

Shutting the doors and locking them you lower the front dark purple blinds infront of the window, to hide from the public view, now it’s just you and the box. Walking careful towards the counter you squat down reaching under and in the desk grabbing the cardboard box, once grabbing it you stand back up and place it down on the desk eyeing it..

BUZZZ!!

Staring at it wide eyed, you grab a pair of box cutters carefully cutting open the box you see..

‘A phone?’ You said outloud almost dumbfounded as you tilted your head looking down as the closed device, it was a red phone, with black swirls decorating around it. Reaching in and grabbing it, you carefully rotate it around getting a good look at it, nothing too out of the ordinary. Just a regular what seems to be flip phone..

BUZZZ!!

‘Fuck!’ You thought as you quickly try to grab it as it slips from your hands the buzz nearly scared you as you weren’t prepared for it. Catching the phone you hold it, your heartbeat slowly down as you open it

‘Why is there ‘A’’ You thought blinking blankly at the phone ‘Why would Rosie want something like this..does she even understand how these work’ You snickered the thought of Rosie trying to frighten out what and how to work a flip phone made you laughed, as you pushed random numbers and hit random text you finally came onto a screen, that looked like a log of some kind it read..

Alastor 10:40 AM

Running to Mimzy Cafe

Alastor 10:50 AM

Will run into Huskier, and almost get into a brawl with him

Alastor 11:00 AM

Leaves Mimzy, strolls down Dahmer Blvd.

Alastor 11:10 AM

On Dahmer will see AD, and almost brawl with him

Alastor 11:20 AM

Goes to the ‘Happy Hotel’

Alastor 11:30 AM

Begins work

‘Who is this Alastor guy..’ You thought to yourself as you looked at the log, is this some diary of some kind, did he drop his phone? What the hell is happening and like a train it hit you..this wasn’t some regular demon, this was THE DEMON.. Alastor the Radio Show Host..

Weeks had pass since you acquired this strange artifact—

A/N: Srry a scrap put together oneshot, if i should finish it let me know ..

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #x character #helluvaboss #hellaverse #x y/n #x female y/n #obsession #alastor radio demon #radiohead #radio demon #y/n #y/n x character #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #x you #x poc reader #hazbinhotel #alastor the radio demon #deer demon #alastor the radio star

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Note that I plan to get to all of these at some point, but I’m looking to see what I should do next. Description for each fic are below the cut.

Sequel to On the Shoreline: written from Momo’s perspective, it’d have how she’s reacted to Hell’s invasion, conversations and shopping trips with Rangiku, a conversation with Renji about their friendship and worrying about Izuru, and of course her trying to get Toshiro involved in beach activities but seeing something is deeply troubling him.

Hitsugaya shows Momo his bankai for the first time: what it says on the tin. It’ll probably be a short one, but I’d want to explore how Momo feels seeing Toshiro achieve something like this, and how Toshiro interprets her reaction, fearing she will be afraid of his power.

The Big One: you all know this one, I’ve mentioned it a few times. A multi-chapter fic about how Toshiro and Momo reconcile after Aizen’s defeat and where they go from there. It’d start a short time before the battle against Aizen, and continue into the events of the battle, then into the year and a half of the aftermath, and potentially into the Thousand Year Blood War arc. It’s be based on a combination of canon, headcanons, and event analysis I have done in the past here and here. It’d also likely include scenes from other fics I have written (such as As Months Go By, As Seasons Change) but rewritten for the fic or told from a different perspective.

It’d be a big project for me, one that could take more than a year to release in full. If this is the winner of the poll, it’d be my sole focus, meaning you may not see as much of writing as frequently, but I will likely write other oneshot fics in between chapter releases to take a break from it every now and then.

Hitsuhina battle fic: this is technically another request from last year, but as the requester is relaxed about me doing it (thank you @whipplefilter!), I’ve had it floating around for a while. I wanted to explore that part of Toshiro we got to see when he was a zombie for Giselle, where he’s completely unrestrained in his fighting…and I wanted Momo there because, you know, angst XD There’s a snippet of it here.

Fifth Division gardening fic: more or less what it says on the tin. It would be mainly from Hinamori's POV and feature snippets of Fifth Division throughout the years, but centered on a group of officers that start gardening in the division. These characters will mostly comprise of my headcanon officers (see them here), and may start from when Hinamori began with the Division all the way to after the Thousand Year Blood War. There's likely going to be a focus on Hinamori's growing sense of responsibility, how her relationships with her subordinates (once her fellow officers) changes the higher up the ranks she goes, and her perception of the duties she has when it comes to the Souls that fear Shinigami. While it'll mostly be centered on the platonic relationships in Momo's life, there will of course be hitsuhina snippets too!

Hinamori realizes her feelings fic: if written, it’ll be in a similar style to To Know Love, Momo gradually realizes her feelings for Toshiro. I plan to keep it short and sweet, but well…it’s me, so chances are it’ll be more than 2000 words XD

Orihime and Toshiro brotp fic: so far I’m envisioning it to be short and sweet, but it’ll look at either one of two (or maybe both) scenarios: either 1) Orihime heals Toshiro’s arm after Aizen’s defeat, and learns what happened in the battle with him and Momo, or 2) they meet sometime during the Full Bringer arc or a short time before the Thousand Year Blood War arc, Toshiro thanks her for allowing him and Rangiku to stay with her during the war against the Arrancars, and they discuss Ichigo. Vague ideas at the moment (and who knows, I may come up with more), but I love this dynamic and I wish it were explored more.

Hinamori is missing fic: a very old idea that recently resurfaced. Set during the Arrancar arc, not long after Toshiro and co. return from the World of the Living after. Momo sneaks out of Fifth Division, unable to stand being inside somewhere that reminds her of Aizen and her life before anymore. When her Division realises she’s missing, they alert everyone. Toshiro eventually finds her, angst ensues.

Tenth Division through the years fic: very similar to the Fifth Division Gardening fic (and they could end up being companion pieces together, see the last option in the poll), in which it's from Hitsugaya's POV and features snippets of his life in the Tenth Division, from when he starts in the Division all the way to after the Thousand Year Blood War. It'll show Toshiro various bonds with those in his division (again, mostly my headcnaon officers, see here) and of course have snippets of Hitsuhina and brotp goodness with Rangiku. The focus will be on Toshiro changing relationship with his offiers turned subordinates as he goes higher up the ranks, and his perception of himself as a child prodigy.

Fifth Division gardening AND Tenth Division through the years fics: a surprise twist entry! >:D As I feel these two would be companion pieces, I wanted to give the option of me working on these two together and releasing them either on the same day or only a few days apart at most.

#bleach #hitsuhina #fanfiction #I liked how the last poll turned out #so I want to try it again! #thank you again to everyone who voted in the last one #hoping editing on the Shinji fic isn't going to take long

[hismercytomyjustice]

It’s Wednesday-eve, comrades!

Which means it’s time for a sneak peek of Chapter Four of my Bloodweave fic Ancient Books and Horror Stories!

This week we’re back in Gale’s head!

Hope you enjoy!

(And this time around I know it’s Gale and not Wyll who’s familiar with who Cazador is. *narrows eyes at prior oneshot * Tho in my defense I didn’t have Wyll in my party when I met Gandrel outside Auntie Ethel’s. OH WELL. You live and you suffer learn.)

—

Truth be told, he was more annoyed than anything else that he hadn’t figured Astarion’s bloody little secret out on his own. He had literally been discussing a book on how to identify vampires WITH a vampire and hadn’t noticed.

Cold beauty? Check. Charm? The vampire certainly thought so. Cannot bear to be of the common folk?

Gale was beginning to wonder if the author had met Astarion and simply penned their first impressions.

It must have taken everything in Astarion’s power not to laugh in his face.

No, that wasn’t true. Astarion had been on edge. Had clenched his fists so tightly he drew blood.

“Only Cazador would know to send the Gur after me.”

As much as Gale wanted to learn more about his past, this peek behind the curtain made his stomach roil.

“If I lose the tadpole, Cazador has control over me, body and soul, and I return to the shadows.”

Of their group, only Gale recognized the name. Finding out the noble was a vampire lord hadn’t shocked him, not with the bits and pieces he’d learned of him over the years. Finding out Astarion had been one of his enslaved spawn for the past two hundred plus years, however…

It explained a lot, and made him wonder even more.

The scholarly part of him wanted to learn about Astarion’s life as a vampire spawn. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said there wasn’t much written about vampires and their ilk, particularly in the academic sense.

But his vampirism seemed like the one part of his identity Astarion wanted the least to do with.

He’d spent two centuries without the sun, without agency, without who knew what else. He’d looked haunted when discussing his past and the ever present threat of Cazador. Was it any surprise he wasn’t keen on losing their little Illithid stowaway if it was all that kept him free?

Gale’s eyes kept drifting to Astarion on their way back to camp. Dozens of questions swirled in his mind, everything from “how old are you” to “why didn’t you think you could tell me.”

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bloodweave #astarion #gale of waterdeep #sneak peek #ancient books and horror stories #my fics

[commander-yinello]

Ye Olde Blog Directory~

To make it easy to find my stuff, below a list of all fanfics I've written and under the cut, my Tavs/Durges. Spoilers for Dark Urge origin.

WYLLSTARION FANFICS:

Danse Macabre (Ongoing, Mature, Horror): The leader of the party is a Dark Urge, and Wyll finds out in the worst way. TW for Cannibalism, Torture, Death and more.

Five times Wyll spills the jug (and the one time Astarion does) (Oneshot, Gen, Humor): Based on EA Wyll, he puns and drives Astarion mad (yet the elf can't not fuck him oh no).

The Masks We Keep (Oneshot, Gen, Fluff): After Mizora's death, Wyll seeks the mysterious vampire he owes his freedom to.

Blood Drops of Jupiter (Finished, Space AU, Horror/Romance): Wyll encounters a deadly space vampire and wants to help him.

Blades and Daggers (Ongoing, Gen, Various): A series of 100-word drabbles written weekly with prompts!

8 Cups of Blood (Oneshot, Crack, NSFW): An exquisite corpse style of Astarion writing erotica while drunk.

TAVS/DURGES:

Noa

Noa's the most anti-bard bard you'll meet in your life. She can't play an instrument. She can't sing - unless there are many dead, to which she senses their lingering souls and brings forth a song from their collective feelings. But as she refuses to murder, her songs are rare. Such is the blessing of Bhaal.

She is the biggest softie. Everyone fears duergar, but she was never raised among her kin. She struggles with her dark urges, and with the aid of her loved ones she never gives in.

Luckily she's good with Vicious Mockery, as everyone hates her awful puns.

Possible Love Interests: Wyll, Karlach, Barcus Wroot, Aradin (if redeemed)

Coral

Everyone who meets Coral should be afraid of her. When Bhaal says jump, she asks how high. As a paladin, she's devoted to keeping her oath - too bad her oath is carrying out His wish to drown the world in blood.

She is obsessed with saving the world, cleansing it of its sins and saving everyone from the 'curse of life', which she considers to be pure suffering. She sees the world in black and white - you're with her, or against her. And if you're against her, you must die.

Only a few are worthy of fighting with her, and she'll do everything to convince them so.

Possible Love Interests: Minthara, Murder (lots and lots and lots-)

Vilxirajel

Vilxirajel, Vix for friends (they don't have any), is a cocky lightning-infused sorcerer who has never had to work their entire life. When they got kidnapped by the mindflayers, their goal is to eat hot chip, lie, and enable everyone's terrible tendencies. They are lazy to a fault and would sell your soul for a corn chip.

Because their lightning touches everything, they always end up frying their companions. As such no one wants to come close to them, which they prefer. All non-dragonborn are so stinky.

Time will tell if they are redeemable. Most likely not.

Possible Love Interests: Gale, Lae'zel, Barcus Wroot

#pin #directory #fanfiction #wyllstarion #tavs #durges #bg3 #Noa #Coral #Vix #Vilxirajel #bloodpact

[peachymilkandcream]

Levi x Evelyn (Oneshots)

(I moved all my oneshots to this list since I maxed out links on the other one lmao, my hcs are on this list!)

Feel free to drop in my asks at anytime to ask for a headcanon, scenario, or to ask a question! ^^

Please read the Rules before requesting! ^^

Oneshots ->

Angst -> 🌷

Smut -> 🍑

(Kinda) Fluff -> ☁️

Obey (Levi makes Evelyn hump his boot after a failed escape attempt) (🍑) Corporal Punishment (When Evelyn misbehaves she gets punished with Levi's belt) (Slight 🍑) Meant to be Yours (After locking away Evelyn in isolation she gets needy)(🍑) Shut Your Mouth (Evelyn talks back and gives an unwanted blowjob)(🍑) Sit Pretty (Levi has Evelyn cockwarm him and punishes her when she cums) (🍑) Submit to Me (Levi gives Evelyn an aphrodisiac which makes her question her hatred of him) (🍑) Jealousy (Levi gets jealous when another man flirts with Evelyn) (Slight 🍑) Say That Again (Levi overstimulates Evelyn until she begs him to stop) (🍑) Shut Up and Take It (Enraged Levi using Evelyn as stress relief)(🍑) Point Blank pt1 pt2 (Injured Levi uses a gun to make Evelyn take care of his needs)(🍑) Choke pt1 pt2 (Levi gets an under the desk blowjob while Petra is oblivious)(🍑) Just Pretend (Evelyn seduces Levi to put him in a good mood after breaking his cup) (🍑) Go Ahead and Cry (Levi ruins Evelyn's orgasm after he catches her masturbating) (🍑) Nothing But Pain (Levi experiments with Evelyn) (🍑) Now You're Beautiful (Evelyn walks around in public dripping Levi's cum) (🍑) Your Touch is All I Need (Levi playing with Evelyn's nipples while she's asleep)(🍑) Suffer (Evelyn is tied up for days with an aphrodisiac)(🍑) Try and Take Him pt1 pt2 (Evelyn walks in on Petra's advances and assumes the worst) (🌷☁️🍑) You Think You Have A Choice? (Evelyn is put on a breeding bench) (🍑) Keep Quiet (Public fingering) (🍑) Show Her Who's In Charge (Reverse of Choke)(🍑) I Miss The Misery (Levi finds Evelyn after she escaped) (🌷🍑) Burning For You (Levi is drugged with an aphrodisiac) (🍑) Shock Therapy Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (Evelyn has a vibrator in public, followed by a reward)(🍑) There Are No Accidents (Evelyn accidentally hits Levi) (🌷🍑) All You're Good For (Evelyn the cum dump)(🍑) Blurred Lines (Levi's a bit tipsy as he takes Evelyn)(🍑) Body And Soul (Evelyn tries to get rid of the baby and Levi catches her)(🌷) Why Didn’t You Tell Me? (☁️🍑) Tremble (Levi eating out Evelyn) (🍑) Broken Doll (Levi pushes Evelyn too hard and she cracks) (🌷) Trapped Part 2(🌷) Where there’s A Will (Trapped AU one shot) (🌷) Captain’s Orders (Cadet Evelyn AU) (🌷) Kingdom of Ash and Greed (Royalty AU) (🌷) Meant To Be Yours (Evelyn tries to kill herself but Levi stops her) (🌷) No Escape (Post delivery Evelyn) (☁️) Teacher’s Pet (Teacher/Student AU) (🌷) In Sickness Part 2 (Sick Evelyn) (☁️) Hollow (Evelyn miscarries) (🌷) I’m Sorry (A beating from Levi causes Evelyn to miscarry) (🌷) Spoils of War Part 2 (Warrior!Evelyn is captured by Levi) (🌷 slight 🍑) Written In Blood (Modern Levi and Evelyn HC inspired oneshot) (🌷) I Remember You (AU where Evelyn goes back in time and tries to stop Levi from marrying her) (🌷) Your Wish Is My Command (Knight and Princess AU)(🌷) Payment (Mafia AU)(🌷) No Escape (Kidnapped AU)(🌷) Siren Part 2 (Pirate AU)(🌷) In Every Universe You're Mine (Reincarnation AU) (🌷) What's Wrong With You? (Kingdom of Ash and Greed AU)(🌷) I'm Not Giving Up So Easily (Evelyn asks for a divorce)(🌷) So You Think You've Won? Part 2 (Drunk Levi) (🌷) Sealing Your Fate (Kingdom of Ash and Greed AU) (🌷) You Think This Is My Fault? (Kingdom of Ash and Greed AU) (🌷) Give In You're Mine (Post-war Evelyn with prosthetics) (🌷) The Truth About Your Mother Part 2 (Older Levi's children want to know the truth about their parent's relationship) (☁️🌷) Suddenly You Care Part 2 (Kingdom of Ash and Greed AU) (🌷) Ever Since That Day (When Levi's obsession started) (🌷) It’s Always Been You (Evelyn repairs Levi’s mom’s cup)(☁️) Finally (Evelyn submits to Levi)(☁️) The Hell Is Your Problem? (PPD Evelyn) (🌷) Rebuild (If Levi and Evelyn were stuck on an island together) (🌷) Broken Pt. 2(Broken Evelyn has a visitor) (🌷) My Little Doll (Levi pushes Evelyn to the point she’s like a doll) (🌷) Down Into The Depths (Merman Levi AU) (🌷) My Prize (Viking Levi AU) (🌷)

#break me slowly #attack on titan #levi x oc #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader

[108garys]

How I interpret little hope

I believe that all explanations of little hope can coexist and that the different concepts must be stacked in a specific order for it to all work together. I've finally taken the time to type it out as clearly and concisely as I'm able and my hopes are that more people will consider this an option(especially those that wanted more out of the games ending)

as shown, Anthony's trauma is the surface layer and the curse is the foundation, further explanation for each and their specific order undercut

-Cursed souls

The foundation of this idea must be that the curse is real as presented throughout the game and there for the lost souls are denied the peace of an after life and continue to return until the curse is broken

-Reincarnation and bloodlines

The cursed souls return in the descendants the original victims(or the descendants of a close relative), each is a unique individual in their own right but has the soul and blood of the original, the blood of the reincarnated individuals itself ties the supernatural and grounded biological sides together, basically they have the same blood as was spilt during the trials and are doomed to the same fate unless the curse is broken

(side note that each incarnation would have been born regardless of the curse)

-Interdimensional variance and choice

The existence of the curator as the games framing device plays a big part in this idea, he exists outside of space and time and all choices taken in game must be viewed as equally true and so we have larger set events and smaller ones that are equally true but don't change the course of the world or anything like that resulting in sub dimensions

-echos/ghosts

Due to the above it should be considered that the field trip simultaneously did and didn't happen and Anthony and Andrew being in close proximity are considered as both one and two people, the two clashing truths result in a sort of universal dissonance that really sets off things in game as they're presented

-hallucinations and trauma

Of course the way this is structured means that one sub dimension is as the twist states, Anthony and his traumatised mind, whilst I believe that this more complex view means that what he's experiencing is real in a sense that he is experiencing echos from a different timeline(and being legitimately tied to the souls of his loved ones) I also believe that it leaves room for the entirely mundane explanation to be scooped off the top by itself

Thank you for reading I'd love to hear your thoughts, even if it's to say I'm not making sense, I'd be happy to clarify as needed and for an example of this view in action I'd point to my oneshot "ghosts" that was specifically written through the lens of this view

Tagging:

@delurkr @kassiekolchek22 @tatjana-fantasy @blubary @dennisseyebrows @qusok @seraphjewel @ctrvpani. @kindheartedgummybears @lonnitamongus @ultrabananapudding @ivycross @eddie-brii @devilinlittlehope @myscprin

#Little hope #The dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures little hope #Supermassive games #Tdpa meta #Tdpa theory #I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into my mind💕 #Sorry if I forgot to tag anyone. My brain only has so much space at once lol

[cooking-with-hailstones]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tags y'all! @mistresslrigtar @zeldadiarist @ladyhoneydee y'all go read their stuff it's so good

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Just 8, but it's about to increase! ;)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

58,767!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Legend of Zelda - All BOTW so far. I have some ideas for other Zelda games but they remain as ideas for now.

I also have a short Marvel story from my Steve/Bucky days circa 2013.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shadows - An Epistolary Poem from Steve Rogers to Bucky Barnes

Is that a yes? (Zelink oneshot, NSFW)

That child of mine (my beloved longfic - I promise I'm coming back to this story soon! I miss it so much)

Silk and moonlight (with art from the magnificent @bahbahhh)

A chance encounter at the blood clinic (modern Zelink au that is very silly but you gotta be ok with blood donation)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I am a sucker for attention and I love talking about stories with people.

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

Oh DEFINITELY That child of mine. It's not even finished yet but there is some goooood angst coming, and I already know how it's going to end (I've actually written a good chunk of the finale already) and it's gonna be heartbreaking.

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

Probably A chance enounter? They get each other's number and the promise of a cute date.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! I've only gotten some (requested) constructive criticism. I do have a fic planned that I anticipate being kinda contentious? But I'm already planning on limiting comments on that one lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yee! I've never written anything hardcore but I do really like writing and reading sexy scenes. I'm not much of a PWP kind of person (give me all of the emotional context) but I'm a big believer that sex and intimacy are fundamentally human experiences and can serve a story in so many beautiful and interesting ways.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I continue to chip away at my Deep Space 9/TotK crossover idea. It's gonna happen one day... maybe...

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but maybe I'll try re-writing one of my stories in French sometime as a project.

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

No but I would LOVE to. The closest is when B and I collaborated and I wrote a story and she did the art.

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

Zelink, definitely. People whose souls are inextricably bound to one another and keep finding each other, lifetime after lifetime? That's the good shit right there. Obsessed.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The story that walked into my head that made me start writing. It's a crazy ambitious story - Basic premise is that instead of the Sheikah technology being banned by the ancient king, the Sheikah themselves were banished from the lands of Hyrule. In the interim, Hyrule has been through many wars, dynasties and factions have all risen and fallen, and the bloodline of the Goddess has been forgotten. No one remembers any of the old stories. Zelda is a farm girl training to become a healer like her mother, Link is the son of the king who won the throne after lead a successful campaign against the Zora, and into all of this comes a young Impa, drawn back to Hyrule after thousands of years away, tormented by visions of calamity, a prophecy her people have passed down for millenia, knowing that Hylia would recall them to the land of their ancestors when the time was right. It's anti-monarchy, it's about climate change, it's about falling in love and renouncing power in order to fulfill a greater purpose, it's about knowing yourself, it's about righting ancestral wrongs, and I do not think it will ever be finished but I do like to come back to it every once in a while.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Coming up with interesting concepts!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Executing interesting concepts?

But in all seriousness, I know I still have a lot to learn as a writer. I'm overly descriptive, I have long run-on sentences, dialogue tags are my nemesis, and I struggle to write with real depth of character.

I do think I'm a good storyteller. I am just still honing those skills.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it's great! I am obsessed with conlangs - I think they're so fucking cool. For writing in existing languages, as long as you're familiar with the language, or getting someone to look it over and not just running things through google translate, I think that's wonderful.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Captain America.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

That child of mine my beloved

This was really fun, thanks y'all!

Tagging @louwhose @newtsnaturethings @wanderingnightingale and @bahbahhh ! I'm sure y'all have already been tagged but add me to the pile of fans who want to hear more about your work :D

#pals! #emily talks #fandom #tag game #my writing #breath of the wild #fanfiction #legend of zelda

[whatgaviiformes]

Favorite Fics - Self-Rec

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

I was tagged by @mrmustachious. I'll tag @the-original-sineater, @gumnut-logic @tracybirds @mariashades and @womble1. Because if I've had to pick out of my children.... *evil laugh*. But in seriousness, I also want to hear from anyone else in the fic writing space. And only if you are interested. No pressure, but please also share your favorite personal fics if you want. We have amazing writers in our fandom, and you all have so much to be proud of.

...so, if I share that my favorite are AUs - will that further encourage you or further discourage you in reading them? I feel very torn about that. I'll mark which ones are the AUs with a *, I know they aren't for everyone, but I put so much heart into these.

These are in no particular order.

We Tried the World - Oneshot

Summary: “We tried the world... it wasn’t for us.” John invites a restless Gordon to visit him in Thunderbird Five while he's healing from his injuries. They talk Characters: John, Gordon, Virgil Why I like it: There's a catharsis to this one, and a meditation that I adore. Meanwhile, I feel like I succeeded at channeling John in way that may not be everyone's cup of tea, but captures one aspect of how he speaks to me. His art is his science, and I am quite proud of the prose in this one.

Directionless - Oneshot

Summary: Two Tracy's and a Lighthouse: "You actually want to avoid lighthouses," Gordon tells him. "The light's a warning that there's land nearby and not to come too close." "Hmm. Still. I imagine if one is lost at sea any light on the horizon, even a warning light, is a welcome symbol of hope, of change to come." He breathes the smell of sea salt. "Are you?" "Am I what?"  "Lost at sea?" Characters: Gordon, Virgil Why I like it: I feel strongly about the message in this fic and Gordon's struggle to figure out what's next, and I so love Virgil's presence to ground him amidst his thoughts. The light house was a lovely metaphor for the bonds I wanted to portray, and this story just feels like a warm hug when I read it.

Hold Fast* - Multi-Chap

Summary: Autumn, 1775. “The rigging ran through his blood; it was an energy, a lifeforce.” Characters: Gordon, Virgil, Scott, John, Alan, OCs Why I like it: It just felt right, despite being an AU. And though it's nothing I've ever read before, the heart of it very much is Thunderbirds. This is Gordon's hydrofoil story, just under the lens of the privateers AU. It was my first full exploration of adding depth to OCs. It also was posted weekly, which was a challenge for me that I actually succeeded in. And most of all... this story absolutely wrecked me. The feelings are raw, and very visceral.

The great wide open* - Multi-Chap

Summary: Gordon binds himself in the blue and meets the eyes of a dolphin trying to reach him in ways he can't understand. But maybe Virgil can. A prequel to "lend me the courage of the stars." Kermadec AU-djacent. Characters: Gordon, Virgil Why I like it: If you're going to go for an AU that's not too out of the box, choose this one. I enjoy that I've gotten to explore science Gordon in a way that feels right for him (to me anyway). I always see him as more hands on, but entirely competent, and with this series it's his oceanic soul that allows him to explore his brand of science with the calls of his heart. Enki and his family was a joy to discover, and I would be remiss not to include them in this list.

Tracy Seaside Orchard and Farm* - Multi-Chap

Summary: An alternate universe. Gordon has a successful farm... and seems to have nothing to do with this International Rescue thing. Characters: Gordon, Virgil, OCs Why I like it: The beginning of chicken!Dad which has since become almost synonymous with me as a person. That and ships (I have no chickens nor have I sailed). But I also like that this story feels unique and that I had the honor to explore who Gordon would be under different circumstances. I feel like I successfully wrote an argument - a horrible one - and still managed to show that no one was in the wrong or the right. I'm proud of how tender the boys' reconciliation feels, and I hope this story feels genuine and organic and compassionate.

In summary, the ones I am most proud of are the ones that allow me to play with imagery and poetic prose, that allow me to explore the bonds of brotherhood and human nature, and that feel a little different despite also being as Tracy as it gets.

#tag game

[thegoblinwitchqueen]

I would be very appreciative of a number 15 drabble with Dutch pls and thank you <3

Ooooooooh, my love! You best believe I did my very best to give you the greatest damn smut Drabble I have ever written to date!

Dutch Van der Linde x F! Reader (Drabble/Oneshot)

NSFW

Word count: 4260

Smut Prompt #15: “That's not how we ask for things, is it?"

AO3

The horseshoe shaped overlook hidden away by trees and brush just outside of the small town of Valentine was one you had only recently called home. Though you were not at all unfamiliar with the life of a wanted outlaw, for you had been “on the lamb” for most of your life up until this point, you hadn’t been riding with Dutch’s boys for more than five—-Maybe six—months at this present moment. Life with The notorious Van der Linde gang was…different than you were used to.

They were closer knit, and the members often cared for each other as though they were of flesh and blood rather than strangers regardless of their differences in upbringing or varying appearances.

To date, this was the most pleasant of an experience with a gang that you had ever thought to receive, and it was all thanks to the silver tongued devil and his family of wayward souls who had welcomed you into their way of life with open arms of understanding and acceptance. It was that foreign, and unconditional, positive regard that caused your conscience to hang heavy on your shoulders like leaden weights while your heart ached with unfathomable guilt that clenched tightly around it with each heavy beat the organ ade against your tightly clenched chest.

Unfortunately for you, the demons of your long and forgotten past had decided that now was the perfect opportunity for them to rise up from their overgrown graves, and present themselves in such a distasteful manner that you found yourself pacing frantically around the circumference of your new family’s camp like a restless spirit of the night. Back and forth you skulked, paving a path from your meager bedroll to where the horses grazed and back. Each time you made your way back to where you were supposed to be sleeping soundly, you would ultimately stop yourself short as you passed your leaders home, and turn around once more to stare in deafening silence at the direction of the forbidden lockbox that called to you like a siren at sea from where it sat behind Dutch’s tent. Taunting you with uncontrollable images of all its shiny and valuable contents that you knew would be the simple solution to all your ugly and pitiful problems. Gold engraved watches, rings of silver set with precious gems, and of course the blood stained dollar bills which Arthur had donated no less than a day prior from his recent excursion amongst the plains. All lay safe, and waiting, behind a simple lock and key.

But…would you actually be able to do it?

Could you risk your already fragile good standing in Dutch’s eyes just so that you could save what little sliver of pride you had left to steal from the man who had taken you in off the streets like a mangy mutt? At that moment, any rational thought or foresight needed to keep you from taking from one of the most notorious criminals in America was…nonexistent. As you stood there, licking your lips like a desperate and hungry coyote, all you could allow your racing mind to think of was that you wanted that money.

God, you needed it.

And fast.

Just a few measly dollars…nothing extravagant that anyone would notice to be missing from the gang's personal stash. At least…not right away. And, you emboldened yourself with the thought that you’d be able to replace the amount of what you borrowed faster than it could be spent by the leader of your old gang on cheap whiskey or whores.

Yes.

You could do this.

You had to do this.

In order to keep this new life separate and safe from the ghosts of your old ways of yore that dared to ruin all you had worked so hard for…you needed to take from this one and give to the other. After that, you could move on. Pay off your lingering debt and start anew.

The light of the crescent moon was obscured by a thick layer of heavy clouds which gave you just enough of a visual veil that you felt rather comfortable as you made your way across the silent camp without the fear of being detected. Slowly, and sure footed, you passed each of your sleeping companions and their tents until you reached the aforementioned lockbox. You ran your fingertips gently along the container's cool exterior and took one last moment to allow your conscience a final chance to do its job. You waited, but no thoughts or tiny voice of reason was present to try and convince you to turn back, wait for daylight with no harm or foul where you could do this the right way and ask Dutch for help. Nothing but the desire to rid yourself of the unbearable heaviness the weight of your past’s shackles caused you crossed the forefront of your mind.

This was it. There was no turning back.

Without a moment longer left to pass, your deft fingers, and a trusty bobby pin, worked together in harmony to release the goods that sat waiting to be plundered by your dishonesty and greed. Guilt sat heavy on your shoulders with each second you worked, and you couldn’t help but release a silent curse under your breath at how difficult the tiny vault was being. No matter which way you turned your pick, the tiny thing wouldn’t budge. Sure, it had been a few years since you had to pick such a small lock, but you were better than this! Hell, you were one of the best lock picks in all of West Elizabeth! After all, that was why Dutch was so willing to indoctrinate you into his family.

…Dutch.

You lifted your eyes, and glanced at the canvas tent where you knew your charismatic leader slept soundly next to his latest flower, Molly O’Shea. The light which he normally left illuminated long into the early hours of the morning as he read his books was snuffed out. For a moment, you narrowed your eyes to see if you could make out the rise and fall of the man’s strong chest as he slept. However, the night sky did not let you see anything but the task you had before you. So, you sighed and shook your head to focus before you tried to pick the lock yet again. As you twisted and turned your makeshift tool around, listening to the subtle clicks of the internal gears which slowly came undone for you like a cheap prostitute, your mind wandered to thoughts of Dutch.

The man in question had always been kind to you. Ever since he found you, drunk out of your mind on the side of the road and covered in snow while you waited for death's sweet embrace, the outlaw had treated you with respect and dignity not many soiled doves had the chance to receive.

Sure, you had heard of the enigmatic and dangerous dark side of Dutch that lay hidden behind his dark and enthralling eyes. You had even seen a minor glimpse of it a few days prior when the last stagecoach robbery had gone a bit out of hand due to Bill’s unpredictable temper. Still, Dutch Van der Linde had never shown it to you himself. The outlaw had always presented himself as a true gentleman, a valuable leader, and a man who cherished loyalty above everything else.

Still, you thought that his success in the outlaw lifestyle was not just because of his amazing ability to think on his feet, his natural skills of performing like a trained actor, or the way in which his voice captured its prey like a snake to a mouse—- personally, you felt it was because it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. With dark hair that was neatly swept back and away with the shine of a heavenly smelling pomade, his thick brows which furrowed as he read his novels or smoked his favorite cigars, chiseled cheekbones, and well groomed facial hair—-Dutch Van der Linde kept his appearance pristine and polished which, in turn, reflected the way that the man ran his gang. There was a reason he was able to talk himself out of everything, and anything. Hell, even after the months had passed, you blushed every time you thought back to the day he took you off the streets.

He found you. Alone and desperate.

At the time he discovered you, Dutch’s handsome features and immaculate clothing convinced you, with little hesitation on your part, to come back to camp with him. However, it wasn’t an offer of life with his gang that you had expected to receive when you followed him home. Rather, you had thought he was looking to procure you of your…services. You hated to admit that while you were, and would continue to be eternally grateful that he saw you for more than just a simple harlot, your heart was disappointed that you didn’t get the chance to warm the bed of such an interesting man. Dangerous and all, Dutch piqued your interest in more ways than you cared to admit, but any chance you had to converse or linger in his vicinity was practically nonexistent since Molly spent most of her days watching your interactions with the charming devil like a Hawk. After a few feeble attempts to unsuccessfully pull Dutch’s attention towards you and away from the troubles that plagued him, you eventually gave up and tried to forget or silence your primal instincts that often left your mind picturing things no lady of quality should. But, you were no lady…nor of good quality…and your current actions proved it.

You grimaced at the thought of the red haired beauty, and for a brief moment, felt yourself grow small as you compared yourself to her. You didn’t intend to, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

“That's not how we ask for things, is it?"

Suddenly, you froze.

The voice, familiar and coated by a smooth layer of dark and alluring tones akin to the feeling of sweet molasses, caused your heart to stop and your breath to hitch in your chest as each word caressed your left ear. You swallowed, unsure of what to do while your hands trembled. And, As luck would have it, the last click of the lock was heard and the lockbox opened slightly to reveal its contents to you…and to Dutch. The man had caught you, red handed, and with your grimy fingers in the proverbial cookie jar like a spoiled child.

You stood there like a statue as the outlaw pressed the warmth of his broad body against the entirety of your back to slowly reach past you, rummage the contents of the lock box, pull free a few dollars before he gently closed the lid and placed the bills in his back pocket. Your mouth felt dry like you had just eaten a mouthful of cotton, and your eyes hung low to avoid his gaze. You couldn't face him. The guilt that stuck to your insides like thick paste plagued you more than you had ever thought possible, and you fully resigned yourself to die where you stood. However, the man who stood in waiting behind you had other plans.

“This…is not what I had ever thought to expect from you.” he began, gently placing your chin between his strong thumb and forefinger. Fingers he had used throughout the many years he evaded the law to hold, aim, and shoot his trusted pistol with accuracy and care. Roughly, but not so much that his strength would cause you discomfort, he forced your face to look at him as he examined your features for the intentions you held hidden behind your own troubled expression which mirrored his own. Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze from their place at your feet, and saw the disappointment painted along the features of his face. “Sure, I expected this from Bill, Sean…even John would take from me on occasion…but not you.”

“I…” you begin. Your voice squeaked from how tight your throat had clenched while you fought back the tears of your shame and bitterness. “I’m sorry, Dutch.”

Dutch nodded, but held your face within his grasp while his mind churned to think of his response to your feeble attempt at an apology. You stood there, feeling the roughness of his fingers against your skin and the strength he held at bay which threatened to leave bruises along your jawline while he held you in place. His brows were furrowed, and his lips a thin line of disapproval. At that moment, you wished those lips were curved into a familiar smile where he often held a cigar between them. Silence overtook the two of you, but you could not find the words to explain yourself. Instead, you allowed him to ponder your punishment.

Would Dutch forgive you? Would he understand that it was pure desperation that led you to your blatant disregard to his generosity? Or rather, would he cast you out to wander the world like a lost soul damned to purgatory until the end of time or worse—make you an example of what happens to those who go against Dutch Van der Linde. You were unsure of what scared you more.

“You see…if it was just me that you were stealing from, I’d just turn the other cheek on your first offense.” Dutch whispered. His voice was low, deep, and held a bit of the danger that you had been lucky enough to avoid. The outlaw's dark eyes bore through you as if he was looking straight into the depths of your soul while you could do nothing but gape at him with lips parted and eyes that darted along the fine lines of his face. He growled a guttural groan, and your mouth watered. “But, you took from the family. And that…that can’t be overlooked so easily. I’m sure you had your reasons, as we all do in this cruel world, but I can’t just let this go. If you were one of the boys, I’d make you pay back the money—-plus interest. After a quick beating, of course. But…you’re not one of them, darlin’. And Unfortunately, I haven’t had the opportunity to think of a proper punishment for… this… since the girls I tend to keep are smart enough to stop from biting the hands that feed them. I thought you were a very smart girl, but I guess I was wrong. So, bare with me as I come up with something appropriate. You understand, don’t you? I thought you were better than this?”

You figured the expected response to your particular predicament should have been an overwhelming fear that coursed through your veins as he held you, contemplating your future existence amongst his family. Instead, you were rather surprised that it was the familiar warmth of carnal desire that warmed every muscle of your body from head to toe, building into a tight knot between your thighs. The sound of a rather pitiful whisper left your lips, “I don’t have anything.”

Surprised, Dutch’s brows lifted and a chuckle left his own lips. For some reason, your core grew hot and slick. And your legs? They were practically jelly and threatened to give out from underneath your trembling weight if it had not been for his grasp. He watched, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a glint of desire flash across his finely chiseled features. Still, you doubted the validity of your racing mind and convinced yourself that it was your own unyielding want projecting itself onto the man. After all, why would he want you? Subtly, his eyes darted to his tent before returning back to your flushed cheeks.

“I’m aware of that.” He whispered harshly. His strong hands finally released your face, and your skin burned from where he had gripped you so tightly. But, you craved more. Your lungs inhaled sharply, unsure of when the last time you had taken a breath of air. Dutch’s face softened, and he brought his knuckles to your face where he ran them gently against your tingling skin. “How are we going to fix this?”

“I may not have money,” you began while your fingers struggled to undo the first few buttons of your blouse. “But,I can do other things.”

Dutch watched with furrowed brows, and again, his eyes drifted to his tent. You stopped undressing, and felt your heart sink when you realized that he was thinking of Molly. You should have known. Should have stopped yourself from this…embarrassment. Of course, there was no reason he would want you to pay for your transgressions this way when he already had a woman to fill his needs. Dutch had been a gentleman, and you cursed underneath your breath at your stupidity. You muttered a meek apology, and held your blouse together as you prepared to slink away like a bruised dog with your tail between your legs.

Suddenly, Dutch took hold of your arm with a painful grip, and pulled you close before he crashed his lips against yours in a kiss fueled by carnal desire. Eyes widened with confusion, you couldn’t help but release a low moan when you felt his warm tongue brush against your own lightly. You felt his lips smirk against yours, and he pulled himself free to hungrily look you up and down like a wolf with a fresh kill.

Haggard breaths between you filled the deafening silence while your mind churned desperately in an attempt to remind yourself of what was reality and what must have been your mind playing tricks on you. However, you had no time to react when Dutch took hold of the back of your head, wrapped his fingers tightly in between the locks of your hair, and pulled your head to the side so that he could pull deep red and purple bruises free from where his mouth sucked fervently against the sensitive skin of your neck. He slowly reached into your blouse, and pulled your breasts free where he left your neck to continue to leave red marks of passion along the flesh of your soft mounds. He took hold of one of your hard and sensitive nipples in his mouth and sucked, biting occasionally with just enough pressure to cause you pleasurable pain. You gasped.

“D-Du—“

“Quiet.” He commanded sternly, hiking the fabric of your skirt above your knees to expose your heat, which had soaked completely through the thin fabric of your bloomers, to the cold springtime air. In one motion, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing to sit on a barrel that was just barely outside of the thin canvas walls of his home. The same home where Molly slept, unaware of Dutch’s wandering and unfaithful hands which pulled desperately at your undergarments from underneath you until they slid off of your trembling legs and onto the grass below. Satisfied, he returned to your jawline, peppering hot kisses as one strong hand reached between your legs to run his fingers gently between the velvet softness of your slick folds while the other massaged a breast prickled with goosebumps from the night's chil. You shuddered, and felt your body turn to mush under the overwhelming senses of your body. “We can’t wake the whole town. Be a good girl, and stay quiet.”

Dazed at the pleasurable sensation of his rough hands as he found the part of your slit that sent electricity through your entire body, you could do nothing but nod a weak acknowledgment. He grinned, and kissed you harshly. Dutch pulled your bottom lip between his teeth while he sensually massaged the warm opening to the depths of your body and soul. Eyes half lidded and your breath shaky, you struggled to keep the moans you desperately wanted to release from escaping your swollen lips. Dutch released himself from you to watch your face as he played with you like you were a new and shiny toy.

“That’s it, my dear.” Dutch whispered, pressing a finger inside you while his dark eyes watched your head lull back and your eyes flutter. You gasped, but covered your mouth to keep silent. He let out a low moan from deep within his chest, and your heartbeat quickened while he pumped in and out of you with his finger. “So wet already, darlin? God, you’re so tight. Don’t worry, you’ll pay me back just fine with this.”

You nodded. God, you wanted to please him with your good behavior while he gently pushed another large finger inside of you, stretching you in a way that made you feel the ecstasy of fullness throughout your core that you had yet to experience with any of your previous partners. In and out, he worked his deft fingers inside and around your folds to build you to that absolutely desired climax that you felt growing within you with each passing moment. With each motion of his fingers, you ached to feel him inside of you and the thought alone of his manhood pressed tight against the fabric of his trousers could push you over the edge. Unable to keep yourself wanting for a moment longer, and against your promise to stay quiet, you allowed yourself to whisper in his ear weakly.

“I want you.” You moaned, unsure if the words actually left your mouth or if it was just a jumble of unintelligible noises. It seemed that he had heard you, and Dutch quickly removed his fingers from your aching insides to quickly undo the thick belt that held his pistol, holster, and manhood at bay. You took the moment of peace to catch your breath, and watched with mouth watering desire as he freed himself from the constraints of his neatly pressed trousers. He was large and throbbed when his hand gripped hold of himself. He gave himself a few rough strokes from base to tip and His breath grew ragged. Before you could think, he forcefully pulled your legs to him to wrap around his waist.

“You don’t know how badly I've wanted to hear your pretty lips say those words.” Dutch growled into your ear before he pressed his lips roughly against yours for another deep kiss. He ran his leaking tip along your folds, coating his manhood in your slick that had long since run down your legs. You ached with desire as he teased you, pushing against your opening in shallow motions that made you gasp and pull kisses from Dutch’s mouth like you needed them to live another day. Instinctively, your hips bucked up and against his engorged manhood in a feeble attempt to pull him into you, but despite your best efforts, he held your legs still. Dutch, ever the leader, wanted you to know who was in charge and that this…this was supposed to be a punishment.

Not a reward.

You whined in dismay as the seconds you spent empty and yearning for him to fill you stretched into what felt like painfully long and agonizing hours while he continued to tease you and suck on the flesh of your nipple. Suddenly, your voice caught in your throat as he pushed deep inside you until you were flush against his base. Lost in the sensation of fullness and warm pleasure, Your eyes rolled as far back as they possibly could and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself from releasing the moan that built inside you like the climax he was pulling out of you with each thrust of his hips. He was forceful, pounding into you without much regard for how loud the sounds of your passion reverberated.

Your slick and hot insides clenched around his cock which worked to reach every bit of you that you had almost forgotten existed. You felt the warmth of your climax tightening within your core with each moment. Dutch’s intense gaze lingered over your face, your body writhing from his touch, and he reached down between your legs to caress your warm bud in circular motions to further bring you on the brink of ecstasy. Suddenly, you felt the intense knot in your insides unravel as Dutch’s fingers and manhood worked through the waves of your high which reverberated throughout every muscle of your body and clenched around him.

Lost to the sensation, you bucked instinctively to grind against him to try and pull free yet another mind breaking orgasm which teased you. Luckily, your body relented and another pleasurable high coarsed through your veins. Dutch cursed under his breath, and you watched his face as his own orgasm took hold of him. He hungrily pressed inside of you, releasing thick and warm ropes of his seed as he chased his own high. He pressed his lips roughly against yours, and slowly, came down from his release to his calm and collected senses.

Silence filled the campsite as the two of you caught your breath, filling your sore lungs with air as he softened inside of you. He pulled his manhood free, along with a few drops of the remnants of his passion, and held your chin between his thumb and forefinger to face him as he did earlier that night. Dutch kissed you tenderly, reached into his back pocket, and handed you the dollar bills you had wanted to steal to pay off your debt.

“Now, you’re free to go.”

#Dutch Van der Linde x reader #rdr2 Dutch Van der Linde x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oneshot #rdr2 drabble #dutch van der linde oneshot

[juni-aldaine123]

MY CLEMATIS/ tgswiiwagaa ; ayamitsu

✎ suddenly got this brilliant idea while going thru fanarts that "hey- doesn't ayamitsu kinda look like mizisua-?" Plus there's also their love for (rock) music to consider. Tho ofc in alien stage it's kinda forced cus it's also for their literal survival unlike genuine pleasure. But anyways- here it is. my signature dose of angst :) inaccuracies might be there as i've only recently joined the alien stage fandom (not exactly joined it but i've been looking at stuff for a while now) and because of "reasons" i actually haven't heard the titular song yet so i've only gone thru the lyrics and written this. but i have seen the vid atleast and that's just my take on sua perspective?? idk cus i was also heavily influenced by ivantill. anyways, thats enough- i hope you nonetheless like it despite its flaws :D

i've poured almost all my poetic abilities into this and have written this entire thing in one sitting while my eyes are burning due to lack of sleep. but yea- enjoy! hope u shed a tear or two ^^

・❥・oneshot . pure angst . hurt no comfort . character death . nothing too explicit . mentions of blood . depressive character . crossover . alien stage x tgswiiwagaa . mizisua x ayamitsu . aya as mizi . mitsuki as sua . mitsuki's pov

——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

Lights flashing, theatrical smoke billowing from the backstage, the spot light halts still at the centre of the stage. Mitsuki hears the crowd roaring and realises that in a few minutes she'll be taken up on the stage, ready to perform.

With Aya.

She feels nerves dampen her spirit and fears her strength wavering. What awaits her on the stage might be her doom.

Or worse, Aya's.

And she can't allow that to happen.

So she'll do her best. They both will. To form a draw. So that neither of them are eliminated. But if the worst comes to worst, Mitsuki decides, she will be the one to bite the bullet. Because sweet Aya should not have to.

Her legs would've dropped her had she not be held up by strong arms. Nimble fingers briskly unclasp her collar that beep against her throat before giving way.

And without warning she is pushed forward in a dark abyss that welcomes her with coldness.

Assaulted by the sudden glaring lights and unrepentant force she stumbles and braces herself for a sharp fall. That never comes.

When she looks up she finds herself lost under clear blue skies and cherry blossom trees of the Anakt Garden and then she hears a lovely voice that gently holds her hands and brings her away from serenity. She realises she'd been staring at Aya, drowning herself in her pretty eyes and prettier smile that beams brighter than sunshine.

Then they're introduced to their grotesque audience who sneer at them like they're caged animals in a zoo. Mitsuki jumps away from Aya's hold as if she has been scorched and the hurt Aya bestows her with definitely burns her heart a little. But it had to be done, their spectators didn't enjoy the sight they'd put up just now.

Affection and love are, after all, a taboo to the aliens, and they wish to exterminate it from their feeble human souls too.

Else why would they have Mitsuki standing before Aya, ready to duel her to death with the voice Aya had always admired? The voice that had drawn Aya to her. Aya, whom she'd ensnared with her golden melody like a siren with her sailor.

Kind Aya should not be here, not in front of Mitsuki, not smiling as if they do not know the consequences of this battle.

They both take up their places, behind their respective microphones and Mitsuki, eyes closed, starts with a single note, "Oh...."

Her voice echoes through the arena and she feels the resonance of her voice coming back to her. And Aya's unflinching stare.

"My Clematis. Hope bloomed from the abyss." She is standing in an open field, where lush greenery runs as far as one could see, eyes closed she sings to the wind that caress her rosy cheeks, the dance with her hair, that hugs her in its cool embrace and promises to not let go.

"Oh my Clematis," chimes another voice with hers, like a ring to her bell, and then she stops and looks to her side. Aya finishes what Mitsuki had started. "Always be by my side."

Then all she remembers is laughter, a happy memory. And then the scene vanishes, into the depths of the ocean of her mind, where she is drowning.

With no Aya to anchor her.

From there begins another memory, another she'd made and cherished with the girl by her side. It is a happy one too. Although there lingers an unmasked feeling between them.

They're sitting under the shades of heaven, watching the stars together. Or well, Aya is atleast, because the only star that Mitsuki sees is standing with her. Oh, how she wishes she could have this star woven into every fragment of her unfortunate soul, to never part.

"The galactic starlight," they harmonize, like two chords intertwining into an indelible melody. "In your eyes spread out."

"In the endless darkness, I find you with your scent." She reminisces the smell of fresh meadows and flowers. Flowers that Aya blooms with her smile as strong as sunlight, as startling as a perennial river, as unbounding as zephyr.

"Even if I sleep in infinity, don't leave my universe," Aya sings, staring resolutely at Mitsuki as if daring her to deny the words she spills as the truth.

Oh, but Mitsuki knows- she has learned with countless reminders of lips stealing her breath away, of being worshipped as deserving of a goddess unlike her- that she is Aya's universe, so how could she ever leave her strung in an relentless world such as this one they're caged in? Mitsuki would rather chain herself to eternal damnation than forsake her one true salvation.

Mitsuki laughs, for the first time, in a long time, when she finds Aya catching fishes. Mitsuki is in love, for the first time, and a long time, when she watches a sunset. A sunset she'd never thought would bring her nostalgia. Nostalgia about a hug and warmth she'd always sought.

She finally opens her eyes, and drinks in the beauty that Aya showers her with. Carving Aya's portrait with a chisel and a mallet, she leaves her as a permanent blessing in the stone that is her heart, never to be withered for Mitsuki is the curtain that enshrouds her glory into her chest, only meant for her to uncover and behold.

There is silence ringing around them and for once the world halts all movements and the aliens that spectate them seem to hold their tongues, and it's just Mitsuki and Aya and their tiny world that rests in the cusp of their palms.

"Oh my Clematis. Hope bloomed from the abyss" The world restarts, the loud shouts come back and Mitsuki misses the transient peace she had been granted. "Oh my Clematis, always be by my side.

A panel flickers into view and Mitsuki waits with uncanny stillness and sure enough, her image is shown alongside Aya's, marking them as opponents contesting in the first round. 

Mitsuki thinks about another precious memory of hers, this might be her last, she realises, because she can sense the awaiting end that comes nearer as they pitch the songs towards its final chorus. Her first meeting with Aya, when they'd met eachother's gaze and Aya had been the one to shyly break the contact while Mitsuki had stuck out her tongue, embarrassed at having been caught when she'd messed up a note. 

And then Mitsuki smiles, with a hint of laughter in her eyes, not because of the fond recollection but rather an omen. For she knows what's about to come, for she also knows that it would break Aya's heart and maybe her soul, but never her body.

Because Mitsuki will be her shield, and the selfless part of her would take the bullet for Aya while the selfish part of her will die, carrying Aya's love with her into the afterlife. Their scores are counted side by side but all Mitsuki sees is the countdown till her impending end.

Like the young Mitsuki in the memory she too had messed up her finishing note, but unlike their supervisor at Anakt Garden who had not bothered to point out her mistake or perhaps had never noticed it in the first place for Mitsuki had always been a diligent perfectionist, their alien audience here won't be as kind so as to turn a blind eye to the obvious flaw. Sure enough there was a difference that she'd been anticipating.

A difference of a single digit.

She can already hear Narita admonishing her in the back of her mind. She hears him call her heartless and a coward for taking the easy way out and eliminating herself in the very first round, leaving Aya in the dust to pick up the pieces of her heart shattered into smithereens.

All alone.

Because Mitsuki chooses her defeat than Aya's, for the pink haired girl's survival would be her greatest victory.

He demands from her, how she could be so cruel? To abandon the person she loves, who loves her back, to the pain of losing a loved one?

But wait, isn't she doing it for Aya? So why is it so cruel of her?

Or is it cruel of her because she will let Aya suffer her lose instead of taking the burden on herself? When she'd often claimed to ease her sorrow and dry her tears.

But can she bear the prospect of having Aya's blood on her hands, especially if she knew she had a chance to prevent it? Unlike Aya who probably still has no idea of the death-trap they're dancing in.

But she can ponder no long because when Aya turns her excitement towards her, her face is splashed with red and her eyes have lost their glimmer, as if she is the one to have her life snuffed out of her.

Or maybe she is.

After all, it is Mitsuki lying by her feet, warm blood seeping out of her now cold body.

Right where she should be. Right how she should be.

Cause in the end it is Mitsuki who lost since she committed a fatal flaw and not Aya, lovely Aya, chosen by the people who've voted for her.

Chosen by Mitsuki. Chosen over Mitsuki.

Chosen because she is what matters in Mitsuki's bleak world.

Aya, her galaxy that holds her as the sole universe.

Aya, her most beloved devotee who has built her a shrine in her heart and offered her love as prayer.

"Thank you Aya. For believing my false promises. For accepting this debauched love."

"Hey! We're in this together! We'll make it out of there alive, the two of us. If we can get the same scores that should be a tie right? And they wouldn't dare hurt both of us."

"How do you propose we get exactly the same points?"

"Aren't we a duo? We've always kept up with each other and synchronised perfectly! What would change tonight?"

"You're right. We can do it. We'll both walk of that stage, hand in hand. Alive."

#oneshot #pure angst #hurt no comfort #character death #crossover #the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all #alien stage #aya oosawa #koga mitsuki #aya x mitsuki #aya as mizi #mitsuki as sua #tgswiiwagaa #ayamitsu #mitsuaya

[kayluh1915]

Is it possible you can recommend some ianthony fanfics?

Also I want to know your fave ianthony stories 🤭

psssst, disclaimer…

Of Course! We can't forget about some good fanfics! I haven't read any recently so I may make an updated post a while later after I've read some newer ones and give them shout outs. For now, however, I'll only be focusing on some older classics. I also haven't read some of these in a loooonnnggg time so a few may not be as great as I remember them being. Just keep that in mind moving forward! These are in no particular order!

Brilliant Blood, Beautiful Bones

Warnings: Possible sexual themes. I can't remember lol This fic is one of my absolute favorites. It reminds of me of something like Detroit: Become Human, but this was written before that game came out. I actually recommend anything Patricia has written, but this one is my favorite by her!

New You

Warnings: Sexual themes Unfortunately, this story is incomplete and is only three chapters long. I'm still upset about it, but those three chapters are SO GOOD that I can't help but recommend them. The premise isn't new but it's done in such a unique way that it feels new. I wish the author would come back and finish it, but it is what it is.

Soulmates

Warnings: Possible smut or sexual themes... I can't really remember again... I am such a sucker for soulmate AU's and this one is the standard I judge all other soulmate fanfics I read. It's so perfect on every level. It's fluffy, angsty, bittersweet, everything. I cannot recommend it enough.

#YOLO

I know, the title is extremely dated and doesn't seem like it would be something good, but trust me it's more than the title! It's a oneshot where Anthony buys a motorcycle and Ian's afraid of it. In order to help him get over his fear, Anthony takes him on a ride and he ends up enjoying it. Trust me, guys! It's worth reading.

The Summer to Remember

Warnings: Maybe Smut? I honestly can't remember if there is or not... YET AGAIN This is one of my favorite chaptered stories. It documents Ian and Anthony going on a cross-country road trip over a summer. It seems simple enough, but pesky feelings get in the way and make things complicated. Just describing it makes me want to reread it. I love it. This was written by a fan-favorite author, Grace. Another one of her fics show up in this list, but that's for later...

Kama Sutra

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content If the title wasn't obvious, this is an extremely NSFW work. I had to throw one in there, guys. This is a little silly at first, but the dynamic they portray here is great and ends up being pretty hot and wholesome. If you're over 18 and like smut like I do, it's worth checking out!

Gone

Warnings: Depictions of depression and non-descriptive suicide This would not be a fanfic list without Gone. This fanfic is the most infamous work in the entire Ianthony fandom. I remember back in the day that the tag was flooded with people love-hating this fic for months. It's extremely well written and hooks you in, but it's absolutely heartbreaking and will steal your soul. The author, Grace, actually reached out to me at the time and thanked me for making her fic so anti-popular. I haven't spoken to her since and her accounts are all inactive, unfortantly. If by any chance she's reading this, I'm sending well wishes and much love to you!

That's all I have for you guys right now. I have some new stories queued up, but I'm obsessed with Stony right now and have been for months... I seriously cannot get enough of those two even four years after they kicked the bucket. However, I promise I'll get to them! When I do, I'll be sure to come back and make a rec post. For now, I hope you and others can enjoy some of the classics! I also have written a few if you'd be interested in checking them out!

#anon #answer #ianthony #☀️🔍 #fanfic reccomendations

[grubus]

i know it was a while ago but,if you still do the wip ask game, could you tell more about Marked Red, Ten Makes It Even and the WQW/MQF one? 👉👈 thanks!! all your ideas are so good

Oh no problem!!!

So with WQW/MQF I haven't written all that much, but it's basically the ones from my SYoNR fic :D It's a oneshot of them meeting and getting together, and is kinda meant to not only explore my idea of their backgrounds but also to answer some questions people have had. Mostly about WQW's full body tattoos ;) What I've written, I'm not sure I'll keep, so that is all on that you get!

More under cut for the other two!

Ten Makes It Even is a classic Shen Twins AU, where SY is, as you have guessed, SJ's twin. I began to poke at it even before I started SYoNR, but I took the... child mind concept from there and used it in SYoNR. Here's a tiny peek!

Shen Yuan is four years old when he realizes something is wrong. 

He sits next to his twin where they have been idly drawing in the dirt as their mother bargains with customers at her stall of goods, knowing her children are safely tucked away behind her, doing what children did at their age. That is when he blinks and everything is startlingly clear.

He looks at his mother and knows while he is of her blood, it’s not the right mother. Her hair should be dark brown and curly, not black and straight. She is tall and willowy rather than short and steady, wearing rough, traditional clothes instead of jeans and high heels. 

Shen Yuan peeks past the stall, craning his head over his twin’s. The dirt road through the village is dusty, the houses ancient looking. 

There are no cars, only horses and carriages and a man sailing past on a sword that has his twin stare in fascination and makes Yuan deeply confused because swords can’t fly. Except they can, he knows that. But they shouldn’t be able to either and– 

Shen Yuan knows there’s a word for what is happening. It’s on the tip of his tongue. 

( Error. Error. )

( Soul Transmission Corrupted: Soul and Body Incompatible. )

( Rebooting… rebooting… )

( Please Hold. )

He blinks, and giggles as his mind settles back down into that of a four year old. Hazy and happy and feeling utterly safe, tugging at his mother’s robes to beg for food. 

It’s too early for an adult mind in a child’s body.

THE END

Marked Red is an original story of mine, set in a fantasy world and there's kind of a hunger games vibe about getting the throne? That only a few "chosen at birth" can participate in. It's from the POV of Rowan, a hot tempered gay girl with super strength, who teams up with a bunch of other people (including Alma, her Big Crush of more noble standing) that all have various gifts and questionable motives.

Mostly the idea was that the plot only moves forward because they're all late teens/young adults making dumb decisions. I think I've been poking at the world building for... years??? I should actually write the story one day but I loooove world building <_< Here's a little peek!

The water was green and brown. It looked thicker than mud and twice as unhealthy, with mosquitoes and bloodflies buzzing above it. It was the kind of water that reminded Rowan of rotten wood and something pure toxic. "I dare one of you to touch it," Sivan said, effectively breaking the silence that had fallen upon them all as they stared.  "Touch that? It looks like poison," Alma protested, tucking her hands under her arms as if to further protect them from bug bites. She wore thick gloves; Rowan did not, and felt an intense flare of jealousy when another mosquito landed on her pinky. That had to be the millionth bug bite in the last hour. "I'm immune to poison," Nur said. "You're just a chicken," Sivan told Alma. "I'm not a-!" "I touched it," Nur said, knee deep in the swamp. An alligator burst out of the water, jaws missing Nur's head by an inch, and they all shrieked.

#WIP ask me meme #wooo stories lets go