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after-witch · 5 days

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Remnant Trio fic sneak peek

Here's a little snippet of my WIP reader fic with the Sephiroth Remnant trio... not yandere, just "reader gets into some deep shit because of their association with Rufus Shinra."

It rings again, and you know you have to answer it this time.

So you flip open the cover and bring it up to your ear. You barely get out your “Hello?” before you hear Rufus Shinra’s unmistakable voice.

And from the first syllable, you know something is wrong. Seriously, deeply wrong.

“Pretend everything is fine,” his voice on the line says. “Pretend I’m just calling to check up on you. Where are you?”

Your heart is already racing and you can only hope your body doesn’t start shaking. It would be a dead tell to anyone keeping an eye on you.

“... At the bar,” you say, keeping your voice flippant. Regretful, but petulant. Like you’ve been caught-out and you’re in-for-a-stern-talking-to-young-lady. “My friends wanted to go out.”

“Are there three men there? Strange men?”

You don’t have to ask a coded follow up question to know which men he’s talking about. Men with long leather coats. Men with matching, shimmering hair. Men whose eyes seemed to draw you in.

“Yeah,” you reply. “But I promise I’ll be back soon. We’re not staying out that late…” You remember that this is a performance, and glance at your friends, giving them a sly wink. A “Isn’t Rufus so silly for checking up on me, and we are totally staying out late” wink.

“Listen,” Rufus says, and his voice has gone deep and thready. “Listen very carefully. They are dangerous. They will kill you. You have to get out now. Can you leave without arousing suspicion?”

“Mmm…” You take a sip of your drink and taste absolutely none of it through the fear shooting through your nerves. “Not really. I’ve only had one drink.”

“Okay,” he answers. “Okay. Then I need you to look for another way out. You can do that. You're smart. I know you are. I want you to get out and go home and lock yourself inside and stay there. I’m sending Rude and Reno to get you.”

“Okay,” you answer, annoyed, whiny. You wish you could tell him to send Rude and Reno to get you right now, from the bar. “I’ll only have one more drink and we won’t stay after last call. Okay. Yeah. See you later. Bye.”

You roll your eyes once you snap your phone shut and slip it back into your pocket. You sigh towards your friends, deliberately loud, hoping the strangers are listening in, “He’s so ridiculous sometimes. He acts like I’m a baby.”

#oh reader honey darling sugar pie #it's gonna be a ride.

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after-witch · 5 days

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I second it, if it werent for you and your mutuals, i wouldnt be writing fics lmfao

[this is from a bit ago, sorry I didn't answer sooner]

AhhhhHhhHhh

this is so cool to hear!!

I also got into yandere writing because of some of my early mutuals. It's neat to go from reading people's works to writing some of your own, right?

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after-witch · 5 days

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vash is such a sweetheart!!! what abt his brother though? i imagine not as tolerable… for…. many reasons.

I have 2 lil posts for Knives in the Trigun Maximum canon!

Like... it could be worse, I guess?

Mostly it's just that he seemingly hates you (and he kinda does, while also not); you're expected to obey his every word and be grateful for the fact that unlike most people on Gunsmoke, you have easy access to food, water and basic necessities.

Just... be quiet and do what he says and be in his general vicinity, why don't you.

With Knives it would be the psychological pressure more than anything. Or really, it would be the stress from encounters with Legato or Elendira, moreso than Knives himself. Knives would be happy to be hands-off, literally and figuratively, whereas Legato and Elendira would probably not be able to make their jealous-fueled hatred for you undetected.

Buuuut... at least as far as yanderes go, it's not Legato? Manga!Legato would not... be pleasant to have as a yandere.

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after-witch · 5 days

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you’ve written yandere cloud?!!!! where???

Oh sorry I just realized none of the Cloud fics are publicly posted, that's my bad.

BUT HE'D BE OKAY TO HAVE AS A YANDERE IN COMPARISON TO OTHER CHARACTERS, JUST TRUST ME.

#I mean it'd still suck if he went in kidnapping mode but #he's not sephiroth so

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after-witch · 5 days

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i expected chrollo to be on best yanderes. is he in the middle for you?

Oh, I love writing for him, but I wouldn't consider him one of the best yanderes because he's an insufferable asshole who takes away your freedom and future, while also wanting to dissect you internally so he can understand you better while using the newfound knowledge to his advantage.

(Exception is when I'm in an awful mood because of pain or stress, and he seems more appealing. he would enjoy the fact that when I'm desperate, I turn to him. Well, him and the smiling man.)

But I wouldn't consider him the worst, either, in terms of living situations and your general... life if they're obsessed with you.

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after-witch · 5 days

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Out of the characters you write for, who would you consider to be the five worst yanderes to have a relationship with? Who would you consider to be the five most tolerable to have one with?

Hmmmmm

Worst, in no particular order:

Feitan

Mahito

Sephiroth

Overhaul/Kai Chisaki

Nikolai Gogol

Most Tolerable, in no particular order:

Chuuya

Sigma

Cloud

Sesshoumaru

Vash

#I almost put Uvogin on the most tolerable because I feel like #as long as you can not be stubborn or fight him and just be agreeable #he wouldn't be bad.#you just gotta y'know #deal with the size and all the murdering and violence he commits #but he could also break your bones like toothpicks if you were being pissy #so... maybe this is super subjective lmao

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after-witch · 5 days

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anon fucking scared me like "hold on, why are we talking abt theo dying?" 😭 anyways yes theo pls don't die, it's bad for your health lmaoo

LOL me too, a lil bit

I hope I don't die anytime soon!!

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after-witch · 5 days

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but theo

technically

you did get your horror

a horror of betrayed expectations

WELL

although to be fair, the book did have horror (especially some creepy things related to corpses) it was just a major let down in terms of the "clearly Jareth substitute" character

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after-witch · 5 days

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I finished My Throat an Open Grave and it was super promising but let me down terribly!

My thoughts can be summed up with this person's Goodreads review & someone's subsequent comment:

Spoilery thoughts behind the read more

And by "spoilery" I mean spoilers

It's kind of interesting how it seems like middle grade horror is more willing to have antagonists be antagonists, even if they can be sometimes a bit pleasant towards the protagonist characters, they are still doing bad things.

Edit: forgot this bit lol.

Whereas lately, I feel like YA horror that plays into the "antagonists that make bargains/deals/etc" end up having them be Misunderstood Kind Gentle Contrasts to Humans Who Are The Actual Monsters, You Know characters.

The "lord of the wood" was literally a teenage boy (not just like, "he looks like one" but literally a human teenager who has the lord of the wood position/title because his brother didn't want it anymore, and his mother was dead) and on top of it, it's like... he's so nice and so kind and everyone in the wood is actually just a human person who pledged to stay there; they are all very sweet and loving and giving and no one is ever mean or uncaring. Not even the lord of the wood.

And the lord of the wood doesn't take anything that's not offered to him, he doesn't even want to take the babies but he has to (he literally tried desperately not to take the baby) and allllllll the girls who have come to their world have been treated so nice and wonderfully and offered a place to stay where they won't be judged but they decided to go back h ome and oopsie it was the humans who killed them all along!

Gag me with a spoon.

It wasn't a bad book, technically. Just very bland and boring.

The "lord of the wood" is a literal human teenager... the people who live in the wood are just humans... like yeah there's some vague magic in the woods but it's not fae-like or anything. Everyone who is not part of the small town with a religious cult are very kind and thoughtful, and there's elements of the wood people being very judgmental about the humans in town because they're awful but of course, the people in the wood aren't.

Oh well. What a bummer.

But also yeah, don't give a book this title and claim it's Labyrinth meets folklore horror, when it's not really that. Maybe a bit of folklore horror in that It's the Small Town Religious Humans Who Are The Monsters All Along but otherwise... meh!

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after-witch · 5 days

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Eight Deadly Mistakes [Yandere Alastor x Reader]

Title: Eight Deadly Mistakes [Yandere Alastor x Reader]

Synopsis: You've made a lot of mistakes in Hell, but this one has to be the worst.

Birthday fic for @absolute-flaming-trash who is absolutely awesome!

word count: 1899ish

notes: yandere, abuse, obsessive behavior, humiliation, I'm joining the 'alastor yanks reader by a chain' club

Hell was full of mistakes, and you figured that yours amounted to a sizable chunk--particularly since meeting Alastor. Of the countless mistakes within that particular bucket, there were at least seven distinct mistakes that led you to this very moment.

One. It was a mistake to thank Alastor for holding the door open for you, the day you entered some run-down market in search of a book. Your voice had been surprised and sweet and ever-so-thankful.

Two. It was a mistake to let him strike up a conversation with you a few minutes later, and not pay attention to the horrified looks that even the most hardened patrons in the shop gave you.

Three. It was a mistake, later on, to think he was your friend; to believe that the shared meals, the late night discussions about music and books and little topics you’d forgotten you enjoyed, were a sign of pleasant companionship.

Four. It was a mistake to sell your soul to Alastor, after his honeyed offers of protection from the seedier elements of Hell, his casual assurance that your friendship would go unaltered.

Five. It was a mistake to move into the Hotel when Alastor asked, and not think there was some ulterior motive behind it all.

Six. It was a mistake to think Alastor was actually kind, just because he was helping Charlie with her hotel, and seemingly protected those within it.

Seven. It was a mistake to, on this day, ask Alastor if he would give your soul back, now that you’d decided to aim for heaven. Because you were friends, and he cared about you, and therefore, he should want what’s best for you--which is to get (you pardon yourself the phrase) the hell out of Hell.

Every one of these seven mistakes--the last, you must admit, being the most significant--led you to here.

To you, trembling on the floor, the tangy copper of blood in your mouth from where your teeth rattled against the end of your tongue when Alastor’s palpable anger made your knees literally buckle.

“I… I don’t understand,” you spit out, voice trembling as much as your body. “I thought--I thought you…” The words don’t need to be spoken for Alastor to know them.

I thought you liked me, I thought you were my friend, I thought you would be happy to do it.

“You thought what, exactly, my dear?”

A low electric current buzzed in the air, making the lights flicker once, twice, and again before he continued.

“That I would simply let you go?” He laughed, but there was nothing pleasant about the sound. It was full of mockery and something else, something metal and cold.

Your stomach squirmed awfully. It was not a feeling you’d ever experienced around Alastor, despite some other’s trepidation around him. He’d never given you a reason to feel that way.

Until today.

Until you asked Alastor to let your soul go, and the room seemed to fizz with electrical interference that left the lights sparking and

Your eyes went wide. And your brain, stupid thing that it was, pieced things together that you had been all too naively eager to ignore until now.

The stories of Alastor’s past that you’d heard in snatches and dismissed as jealous fantasy, probably all deriving from Vox and his ilk. The way people who knew Alastor from before his sabbatical tended to steer as clear of him as possible.

Or how Alastor always insisted you try the things he liked--clothes he left in your room (even before you told him where you lived, before the Hotel); music he insisted you’d admire more than your current collection of alt-rock CDs; foods that were tastier, he said, than your favorites.

“I didn’t think--” The words stuck to your mouth until you forced them out. “I didn’t think you’d be mad that I wanted to get better, repent and--and get out of here.”

Alastor, despite his smile, did not look impressed.

You didn’t have time to flinch as he swung his microphone down and out, pressing it against your throat.

“Don’t act surprised now. After all,” The microphone dug into the flesh of your neck, lifting your chin until you were looking at him through blurs of oncoming tears. He continued, voice softer, missing most of its usual radio sound. “You made me like this.”

You wanted to shake your head, but the microphone kept you only capable of looking up and straight at him. His smile made you sick.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, voice light, but not quite naive anymore; you didn’t fully believe the words now, and your voice wavered.

Even if you didn’t mean to do anything to draw the attention of the radio demon, that didn’t mean Alastor wasn’t clearly--wasn’t clearly… affected by you. In some way that you didn’t understand; moreover, you didn’t want to understand it.

What you thought had been a surprising friendship made in the bowels of hell was something else entirely, and you hated the newfound knowledge.

Whatever it was that Alastor actually felt for you, it was dark and awful, like sprinkles of mold you find underneath the bathroom sink. Damp and rotting and unwanted.

“You,” he said, pressing the microphone harder into your throat for emphasis, “have been quite the busy bee when it comes to me, my dear.” He sighed in a way you’d heard him do a hundred times before. But now it feels wrong; sticky, oozing. “I’d never given much thought to… certain endeavors before you. And now I find myself distracted.”

His neck turned again, cracking, and a song began to play from somewhere.

“Distracted?” You asked, feeling sicker and sicker.

“Oh, yes,” he answered, dragging out the word. “Quite unlike me, if I must admit it. And yet there’s something about you that’s been making me…”

He didn’t finish. The song got louder, mingling in with the ambience of the room. It was almost soft and wistful, except for the lyrics that made your skin feel cold, repeating on a loop.

And you’re mine… mine… mine…

“And you thought…” His voice continued, each word punctuated by an awful radio crackle that made goosebumps blossom up your arms. “That you would get to simply leave me after all I’ve put into you?”

All he’s put into you.

The dresses, the food, the guidance on what to listen to and how to dance; who to talk to and who to avoid. Advice from a friend, you thought. Advice from someone stronger and maybe smarter.

“Well,” he said, almost cheery now, pulling the microphone away from your sore and probably bruising throat. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson and we can avoid this…” A crackle, short and low. “Unpleasantness in the future.”

You should have said that yes, you learned your lesson; yes, you won’t ask again. But you didn’t. Instead you swallowed hard, feeling the ache from where his microphone pressed in, and added an eighth mistake to your list.

“We can avoid it if you release me from my contract--if you give me back my soul.”

“Well,” he repeated. And this time, his voice was muffled by a brief, shrieking radio frequency. “Perhaps a reminder is in order.”

The reminder came with cold metal choking your throat; a vivid green chain led straight from your imprisoned neck to Alastor’s hand.

One trembling hand came up to feel the collar. It was real. It was there. And the chain, too, was solid and unbreakable.

It was a shocking sight.

You’d seen the chains of other owned souls before. Angel’s, in particular, when you’d accidentally witnessed an argument between him and Valentino. But there had never been a singular thought given to the fact that you, too, must have had chains. Alastor never showed them to you and until now, had never seen fit to remind you about your lack of freedom.

Until today.

Your surprise and fear made you stupid, and you tried to yank yourself away from him; he held fast to the chain and began to wind it around his hand, forcing you to look upwards, speaking all the while.

“You are never to ask me to release your contract again. And you are certainly never to even entertain the silly notion of leaving me, now or in the future. Do you understand?”

An awful, slimy feeling overtook your gut. He owned you, and he had owned you for some time. You just had been closing your eyes to that reality.

A reality that was now choking you.

“Well?”

You nodded. You didn’t think you could speak, not now. Not to him.

But it wasn’t good enough. He yanked on the chain, choking you.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

“Yes.” The word was spoken through gritted teeth. It tasted like tears.

“Yes what?” The grin on his smile widened deceptively as he yanked against the chain, jerking your head upward. It hurt inside and out.

It was so unfair, that your heart could hurt like this, even after you were dead.

“Yes, sir.”

That should have been the end of it. He should have let go of the chain and let you slink off in fear and shame, off to sob in your bedroom over the sudden turn of events.

Instead, he leaned down, and for a moment, his eyes glowed in a painful flash.

“You can do better than that, my dear, can’t you, to the person that owns your very soul?”

His hand wrapped around the chain, shortening it even further as he leaned in so close you could smell the rot around him. But it didn’t matter that you wanted to pull away from it, because he held you--literally, held the chains that kept you bound to him. Forever.

Yes, he owned your soul. He owned you.

“Yes, boss?” you murmured, copying what Husker sometimes said; you were unable to look at him anymore as humiliated, hot tears spilled down your cheeks.

In an instant, the chain was gone, and you fell to the ground with a clumsy thud. Your chin hit the hard floor before you could brace yourself with your hands.

“Wonderful,” he said, praising, almost cooing. His neck cracked to the side and you imagined his bones shifting in impossible ways to achieve it. “I suppose I should remind you who you belong to when you get out of sorts like this, my dear.” His smile widened. “A healthy reminder now and then is good for the soul!”

He laughed. Whether he thought it was a joke or not was unclear.

“Although, I hope I won’t have to remind you too soon. I do so enjoy your company more when you’re not being…” He waved his hand in the air, glancing up at the ceiling for effect. “Stubborn.” His eyes darted to you, accompanied by the faint sound of a radio hum. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you breathed out without hesitation, unable to stop shaking from your position on the floor.

“Good girl,” he said, patting the air above your head. You watched his footsteps until he paused at the threshold of the door. You heard his neck snap as he turned it back around--you didn’t dare look up to see.

“Don’t forget to tidy up before dinner. I’ve left a dress in your bedroom that I’m sure will look lovely on you.”

#yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere #alastor x reader #afterwitch writes #/

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