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k-atsukibakugou · 6 months

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞?

what's your favourite scary movie? | k. bakugou— k-atsukibakugou

finally convincing one of your best friends to come to the 30th anniversary re-release of scream, he figures out one of your best-kept secrets

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader w/c: 4.9k warnings: femme reader (called girl, has a pussy, wears makeup n a skirt), death threat kinda lmao, public & unprotected sex, blood mention, knife mention, reader implied to be recon/stealth hero, not beta’d bc i got nervous and we die like men, this is like all lead up my b notes: HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEEEEEN this is sorta inspired by @katsukikitten's post and um i have no explanation for this i was possessed by that post n my fat crush on katsuki and I KNOW scream came out in 1996 imagine the timelines line up lmao crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • recent wips & updates • kofi • askbox

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“pleaaaase?” you’re too aware you’re whining, your bottom lip stuck out in a pout, probably only one more emotionless denial away from getting on your hands and knees and begging the stoic hero, “i’ll owe you? i'll do anything you want!”

you caught the mischievous sparkle in his eye at your promise, dropping your head in desperation to your hands still clamped together like you were praying, one final time, you pleaded, “please? it’s the thirty-year-anniversary re-release! i can't miss it!”

bakugou made a sound like he was thinking over your request, eyes glancing between the two tickets in your hand, the blood red title printed at the top calling his name, and your pleading eyes, a gravelly hum low in his throat. his mind had been made up since you asked, already planning on watching the theatrical re-release, it was just his luck your favourite horror movie was his, too. but he didn’t plan on telling you that quite yet, revelling in your desperation after a third rejection; eijirou too scared of a slasher, denki already having plans for a different night, and sero scheduled to patrol.

“you’ll do anything i want just for a movie?” his voice was mildly condescending, but the twitch in his lips had you rolling your eyes and crossing your arms like a grumpy child bargaining with a guardian, “if that’s what it takes!”

exasperated, you throw your head back with a groan, about to turn to him and announce your forfeit when he beats you to it, pinching the extra ticket from your hand, a satisfied smirk painted on his lips, “i’ll pick you up friday night, ya owe me one.”

katsuki walked away without even waiting for your response, leaving you simultaneously frustrated at your friends toying with you, and cheering at finally having found someone to join you.

punctual as always in his adult years, katsuki was outside your door friday night half an hour earlier than when you told him to drop by and get you, fists banging on your door while you were still tugging your skirt over your hips, just getting the zipper up when you swung the door open, already growling at your friend standing in the doorway in front of you, “i heard the first thirteen times you knocked.”

you toyed with the hem of your shirt, stepping aside to let him inside, promptly looking him up and down to admire the casual outfit he wore, far different from the hero costume you were used to seeing on him, the simple black cotton stretching over his broad chest somehow emphasising the muscles there more than the tight costume. there was a hint of a necklace underneath the collar of the shirt, the thin line of silver glinting under the lowlights of your hallway, similar jewellery on three of his fingers, and his blond locks sitting normally, spiked up around his head, his undercut leaving his ears free to show off the handful of piercings there. glancing back up, your eyes locked on his glinting ruby eyes, already watching you drink him in, the eye contact only breaking when he tapped his heavy boots on the floor just inside your door, “quit whining, how long are ya gonna be?”

you rolled your eyes at his impatience, waving him off while fixing your hair in your reflection in the glass beside the door, “give me two minutes.”

you flitted back up the hallway, swift and silent as he was used to seeing you be, leaving him beside the door to take a glimpse around your living room, taking in the little plush ghostface sat front and centre on your couch, blood red felt stitched over its soft knife, a stack of novels beside the couch, a few titles he recognised as classics, and more horror novels he knew nestled between scattered romance titles. he heard a few more heavy bumps from your bedroom, just out of his view before you emerged once more, in a tight shirt, gorey graphic printed in the middle, a sweater thrown over your arm and boots looped in your fingers, a cute garnet charm dangling off the back of each loop of fabric, “you want me to fill up your car?”

your question had his eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “the fuck are you on about?”

“to repay you?” you asked dumbly, stepping closer to place your key in the lock, clicking it locked once your tall friend ducked under it and stepped outside onto the driveway. he sucked his teeth disapprovingly, unlocking his car with you bounding over to the passenger side, jumping into the seat to wiggle your boots onto your feet, he only dignified you with a response once he was seated on the dark leather, huffing out a grumpy, but demanding, “you’re not payin’,”

reversing from your driveway, he interrupted when you opened your mouth to argue back, “besides, i haven’t decided what i want from ya yet,” katsuki smirked at you, vermillion eyes darting from his rear view mirror to you when he propped his arm behind your headrest to make sure the road was clear, speaking again with all your focus studying the way his lips moved with every low syllable, “it’s more fun keepin’ you in suspense.”

head dropping from the clouds, you glared at him, unsure if you were more annoyed at his self assured grin or yourself for throbbing from it, leaning down to tie the lace of your boots, “fine, last time i'm offering though.”

katsuki shook his head, exiting onto the road towards the cinema, ending the conversation there, and leaving you both to settle into a comfortable air, sometimes dropping into silence, sometimes a casual conversation about your hero work until you reached the quiet theatre, arriving with plenty of time to spare before your screening. the lot was dead, nowhere near as busy as you expected it to be, katsuki parking with no one else beside him for at least twenty feet in each direction.

locking his car, you both made your way inside, side by side through the glass doors of the cinema, decorated for today with original posters, thin black fabric on the walls, the doors spattered with dark red fake blood, even the employee checking tickets adorning a flimsy ghostface mask. you were practically buzzing with excitement, squeezing his forearm when you saw the guy ahead, handing your ticket over for him to scan. the corner of his lip twitched in a grin, never seeing you geek out quite so much like you were right now, your eyes shining with excitement right up until he turned to face the fabric screen playing static.

the static soon faded into the production logos, and finally, the title screen; scream. you were vibrating in your seat, eyes glued to the screen so much you hardly had any of the popcorn he’d got for you both to share, only occasionally did you reach for the cup to take large sips, all without tearing your eyes from the screen. katsuki was even beginning to question the last time you blinked.

gradually, as the movie went on, he noticed your minute squirming more and more, first dismissing it as discomfort from sitting in the one spot too long, but the longer he fixated on you, the more he noticed your inability to remain still, your legs crossing and uncrossing every five minutes. your clothes rubbed against the fabric of the chair with every wriggle, the rustling having him observe you from the corner of his eye more than he watched the final act, deep red irises catching you swipe your tongue across your lips, your sparkling eyes darting around the screen, your black skirt doing nothing to hide the way your thighs were pressed tightly together.

your wide pupils reflected the carmine on the screen, heart eyes locked on the blood spattered slashers on the screen, your ears blocking out the monologue to focus entirely on the villain’s bloody face, lips just parting to release a short puff of breath you didn’t know you were holding in your heaving chest.

realising he was staring, katsuki clenched his sharp jaw and focused back on the crescendo of the third act, trying to ignore the way you kept writhing right up until the credits were rolling. you stayed fixated, entranced, for a minute longer, unable to hide your smile when the lights slowly turned back up, illuminating your shiny, plump lips and your hungry eyes. without wasting another second you started gushing over the movie without looking at katsuki, half of your words running into the next without so much as a breath between them, sounding more like the obsessive deku the longer you prattled on about the characters and theories.

you were still chatting his ear off when you both made your way down the carpeted stairs towards the exit, past the decorations and blood splatter once more, out of the dead theatre, spotting only one or two employees left cleaning counters and floor as you left, their costume discarded on the counter as they swept.

exiting into the night, a gentle icy wind blew through your body, making a shiver wrack your body. you gripped katsuki's wrist to drag him faster to his car, desperate to retrieve your forgotten sweater from underneath the passenger seat before your lips turned blue. your tugging did little to change his pace, his heavy boots stomping along the paved car park, illuminated only by the moon and a singular lit lamppost just outside the cinemas doors, his car shrouded in the darkness of the night, alone in the lot.

chirping as it unlocked, you swung the door open immediately, digging around under the passenger seat where you knew you’d dropped the sweater, not paying attention to your friend climbing into the driver's seat beside you, still rummaging around under the seat when he made a disapproving sound. finally getting hold of the soft fabric of the sweater, you pulled it from under the seat, and into your lap to untangle the sleeves of it while eyeing katsuki, catching the signature scowl gracing his lips, although this one seemed tinged with confusion, tongue clicking against his teeth as the dashboard made a beeping sound once more before it turned dark. you watched him try it once more with a frustrated curse, “useless fucking thing.”

you pulled the sweater over your head, confusion painted on your face now, too, as you watched him reach under the steering wheel to click the lock for the metal bonnet.

“what’s going on?” curiously, you leaned over to peer at the dashboard with him, watching his nimble fingers unbuckle his seatbelt and climb from the car.

“‘m not sure yet, battery might be dead.” he grunted, closing the driver's door to go around the front of the car. you watched him through the pristine windshield until he was blocked by the bonnet being lifted and locked up into place. you followed suit, meeting him around the front, scarlet eyes darted around the metal and tubes and batteries, a muscular arm flexing when he squeezed the metal in frustration, swearing once more.

“shit, i’ll need to call for a jump.” you watched him think, sadly studying the battery that was ruining your plans with your bottom bedside drawer. “oh.”

“wait in the car, i’ll call ei to come help us.'' without question, you nod, studying the way he leaned back on the car, pulling up the number pad, rapidly typing in both of your closest friends' number. sparing one last glance up at him, you caught the unreadable look on katsuki’s face, an expression of his you’d never seen before, crimson eyes glaring down at the technology in front of him.

climbing once more into the car, you relaxed as much as you could into the seat, slipping your heavy boots off your feet with your body thrumming, no way to sit comfortably with the way your pussy throbbed against the seam of your panties, your hips jolting forward whenever you sat a certain way, the slashers bloody ghost mask imprinted behind your eyelids each time you blinked. your cheeks were hot, embarrassed to be so desperate from a movie, but still praying eijirou would rush to save you both to solve katsuki’s problem and let you get home to fix yours.

you squirmed in the seat, your skin hot on the leather while you eyed the dark streets, hope growing in you with every car that drove down the street, only to be crushed when they continued past the cinema. waiting for a moment longer with quivering thighs squeezed together, you finally huffed and opened the passenger door, “katsuki? did he answer?”

a beat went by, nothing responded to you except the soft chirp of crickets nestled in the dark of the greenery sprinkled around.

“katsuki?” you repeated, your voice a bit louder, and still you heard nothing back, the silence interrupted by the vibrating of your phone.

left all alone, sweetheart? 12:41am

you reread the text from the unknown number with your heart in your throat, nervously watching a typing bubble pop up beneath it.

you climbed off the seat warmed by your body to take on the cool night in search for your silent friend, the skin of your thighs erupting in goosebumps the moment your light feet landed on the ground, wrapping tingling arms around your torso, you attempted to rationalise while you watched the bubble disappear. rounding the front of the car, you scanned the space in front of the car, expecting to see the hulking blond standing there, ready to jump out and scare you, instead, the spot was empty, not a trace he’d even been there to begin with.

brave little hero. you’re not the type to run headfirst into danger.12:42am

let’s play a game, see if you can win him back, sweetheart. 12:42am

your breath was knocked from your chest reading the text, your heartbeat deafening when you choked out his name once more, your tone painted with worry.

“i swear to god, if this is a joke i'll make sure no one hears from you ever again.” shivering, and not from the cold, your voice shook, wide eyes not conveying the threatening aura you were trying to achieve, nor your entire trust in this only being a joke.

and if you get an answer wrong i’ll make sure no one finds you. 12:42am

your blood ran cold feeling the phone buzz again, your face still shamefully warm when your cunt throbbed at the threat, fear and need settling in the pit of your stomach. sucking in a breath, you shouted at nothing, “fine!”

you’ll be a good final girl. 12:43am

if you’re smart about it. 12:43am

you crept around the car silently, sticking close by the lifted hood to scan the darkness around you, sneaking around the side to get back inside the car, desperate to get back to safety, wanting to think this through, to be smart about getting katsuki back by your side. seeing no one, you darted for the driver’s side door, tugging on the smooth handle with trembling hands, the lock unlatching only for a moment before being shoved shut once more with a strong, scarred hand planted on the window, causing you to squeal in surprise when the door slammed with a thud.

“wrong move, final girl,” his deep voice whispered in your ear, feeling like it was echoing all around you, his free hand clamping around your hip to keep your weak legs upright. your stalker smiled into your hair, ego swelling at how easily he had you worked up from a few threatening texts, “how wet are you right now?”

katsuki rasped, voice impossibly deeper, his nose bumping your temple when he spoke. heat flushed through your body, embarrassment pooling in your stomach, only adding to the drippiness of your needy pussy.

“what?”

“what?” he mocked, “you think i wouldn’t notice you humpin the fuckin air in there? what was it, sweetheart? the blood, or the fear?”

sharp teeth emphasised his final question, canines catching on your sensitive lobe, his hand tightening around your hip, pinning you hard between his thick chest and tumid car.

“i don't have any idea what youre talking about.” your voice was an uneven, unconvincing murmur, your breath fogging on the window in front of your face, blurring your view of him, bar a sliver of the cherry-red of his irises reflecting back at you. you felt the fervid heat of his eyes on yours as if there wasn’t a single obstacle between you and him, the burn of his gaze dropping down to your lips when you surrendered a shuddering breath.

“you don’t?” you shook your head, barely disturbing the air around you, more shy than you ever had been since knowing him, “that didn’t turn you on at all?”

you shook your head once more, your gaze averting to the ground beneath your feet, suddenly interested in the shine of the lamplight on his boots instead of his interrogating, knowing he already knew the answers to every question he asked you.

his calloused fingertips ran up your plush, pillowy thighs, blunt fingernails digging in at the peak, a mere inch away from your dripping core, “c’mon, final girl, tell the truth, and i’ll stop.”

he got impossibly closer, crowding over you with a thick forearm sliding around your waist, settling in where he remained still, the hairs on the back of your neck standing when you felt his gentle breath there. your hips jerked forward into his biting nails, surely leaving half-moon indent in the soft skin underneath them. you felt his cocky smile in your hair when a low mewl reverberated in your throat, your bitten lips smothering the sound almost imperceptibly, “please, don’t stop.”

katsuki heard you, his ears so attuned to your voice, he’d hear you in a sea of half a million people, loud and clear. still, he let his fingers drop further away from where you needed him, incessant in his teasing, “what was that? “please stop”?”

his hold around you loosened, his boot disappearing from your view when he took a step back, this time it was your fingers digging into the skin of his forearm, pulling him close to you, “no, katsuki, please don’t stop.”

he didn’t need to hear a single word more from you, his cock already straining against his pants hearing your shaky voice beg only twice for him. he cursed again, his fingers gliding over your skin, not going to deny you, or himself, the pleasure of dipping his fingers into your sopping cunt.

a high pitched mewl escaped you when he swiped his thumb over your slit, the soaking fabric still separating you two doing nothing to weaken the pleasure his skilled fingers brought you, enough to have your hips bucking into his hold again. katsuki’s devilish laugh tickles the back of your neck, your eyelids becoming heavy with need filling your veins, adrenaline keeping your heart beating loudly in your ears, and lightning through your body when he finally slips his fingers under the waistband of your panties, hardened fingertips free to touch your core any way he desired. snaking his free hand up your body, katsuki brushed the hair from your neck, letting his hand rest slackly at the base of your throat, leaving the junction where your shoulder met your neck free for him to plant his lips there, sucking your skin into his mouth, bringing your blood as close to the surface of your skin as he could without a buck knife of his own. you crooned, warm body melting into the blond’s touch, stumbling back over your own feet when he slid his hand under your skirt to pull you back a foot by your hip, holding you hard to his chest, a thick, powerful arm holding you upright. your lustful eyes were trained on his hand when it abandoned its hold on your throat, committing every flaw, divot, vein and scar to memory while he yanked the shiny handle, shoving it further out of his way with his shoulder before he let you drop forward again; missing his strength to keep your goo-like legs holding you up, you stumbled forward into the car, catching yourself on the driver's seat with your forearms, a stammer forced from your chest when you landed on your palms. you peer over your shoulder at him with wild, hazy eyes, adjusting yourself up on your hands, his hot hands pushing down on the small of your back to keep you firmly against the leather before you get too comfortable, marvelling at the feel of your hammering heart against the soft seat.

katsuki’s hands at the nape of your neck and the small of your back forced you to arch your back further, your plush ass pressing back into him when he lifted your head a couple of inches off the material by your hair, eliciting a high-pitched gasp from you, “say it again.”

there wasn’t a trace of a request in his tone, it was a simple demand, accentuated by the large hand pressing down harder on your back, contorting your body in an uncomfortable pose you’d be relieved of the second he had your approval once more, your trembling figure entirely in control of him despite his incredible strength holding you down.

“i need you, ‘ki, don’t stop.” your head fell forward, your ass pushed back against his hard cock, your stammer breathless but clear when you spoke, your shining lips parting to moan lowly when he released your hair to tease your core again, deft fingers fucking into you again, deeper than they were before when he was focused on taking your attention from the stupid slasher on the screen inside. now his attention was turned to having your pussy clenching him as soon as possible.

the blond behind you groaned, feeling your tight cunt hug his digits, squeezing like you were trying to swallow him deeper and deeper, mesmerised by the way you took him, your blushing, wanton face already marking the soft material of the seat with your foundation and he wasn’t even close to being done toying with you. you were already soaking after the little he was giving you, the movie and now his teasing ministrations having you dripping, hole clenching in anticipation; unnecessary for him to continue pumping his fingers in and out of you other than for his own lewd entertainment, needing to commit the sight to memory in case it never happened again.

“keep talkin’ to me, final girl, you want me to stop?”

you shook your head, your face buried in the crook of your elbow and your back arching into his touch, a long moan escaping you, getting closer and closer to cumming around his fingers, lewd squelching echoing in the dark night.

“you want me to fuck you like this?”

“mhm!”

“you thinkin’ of me or that pathetic slasher, huh?” katsuki's fingers curled as he whispered, forcing a choked gasp from you, any answer slipping from your mind when his fingertips grazed that sensitive spot inside you, your brain going blank, your vision turning white.

colour returned to your vision far too quickly, your bleary eyes snapping open, staring behind you where katsuki stood tall, one hand still pressing down on your back but no other part of him touching you, his wet fingers at his mouth instead of inside your aching pussy, sucking the two into his mouth, smirking down at your shocked face, one eyebrow raising when your mouth bobbed open and shut noiselessly.

“you’re not gonna be thinking of that pitiful ghostface when i fuck you,” the moonlight shining behind him cast his menacing face in darkness, only his eyes and sharp canines glowing from the shadows when he spoke, voice deep and gravelly with his own desire, unable to deny himself your sweet cunt any longer. his dexterous fingers working the shining steel button on his pants undone while you beam up at him, entranced by his bared teeth, narrow scarlet eyes watching you, blond locks hanging over his face when his stare shifted down, lining himself up with your sloppy hole, “you’re gonna be thinking. of. me.”

he sunk into you, word by demanding word, inch by salacious inch, until your eyes were rolling back into your skull, cock moulding your throbbing, silken cunt to the shape of him.

“katsukiiiii,” you panted, earning a sharp snap of his hips bumping your forward in the car across the seat, your soft sweater doing nothing but glide against the material, digging your fingernails into the soft leather, you tried to hold yourself still, an impossible feat against the strength of his movements.

katsuki’s hot hands seized your hips, pulling you back in time with him thrusting forward, his hips pressing into your squishy thighs hard enough to leave a dark bruise before he was pulling back out to fuck you hard again, his dominance making your pussy squeeze tighter around him, leaving you to helplessly cry out broken stammers of his name beneath him until your voice broke, your breathing growing faster, harder, with his movements, “oh-h, ka-katsuki, ‘m close.”

your slurring words had him fucking ever harder into you, helping you chase the orgasm you’d been desperate for since the second act, shifting your hips to have the head of his cock brushing the spongy spot deep inside your pretty cunt, hitting it again and again until you were squealing, creamy cum gushing out of you to collect around the base of his thick cock in a lewd ring. despite your spasming pussy, katsuki’s vice-like grip didn’t loosen, virile fingers splayed over your shaking hips, pulling them up to keep his pace, dragging his veiny cock in and out of you, watching your cum gather and drip down him to the ground below.

his cock felt like it was in your throat, every thrust forcing out garbled moans into the night air, even a deep sigh escaping the blond above you when your thighs twitched and trembled again. katsuki slid a hand up your spine from your hip, pushing your face back down with a strong grip on the back of your skull, leaning forward to grind deeper inside you, revelling in your muffled whine, watching the way your eyes widened before rolling back again, “you’re gonna cum again?”

katsuki’s mocking tone was uneven, tinged with his own impending end, but you still heard the cocky smile in his voice, his ego ever ballooning at the ease he worked you up, revelling in the warm squeeze of your thirsty cunt around his cock, more and more wetness dripping from you to collect around him. still, you nodded, too delirious to even try and deny the effect he had on you, your tense thighs and delirium only inflating his ego more.

“who makes you feel like this, huh?” his voice was a hoarse whisper now, thick eyebrows scrunching when you squeeze around him again, just from his voice and the stretch of his cock.

“you! you do, katsuki!” you choke out his name once more, your voice still muffled against the seat, his hand at the small of your back doing little to stop you standing on the very tip of your toes to swallow his cock deeper until he matched you with his own stammer of your name, pushing your head down harder as he stood up again, fucking rougher into you, faster, abusing your hole to get to his own end with you.

repeating his name like a mantra, your whole body tensed under him like you’d been shocked, a long whine of his name when you came intensely around him again, your high pitched keen making him follow suit, holding you firm against him, emptying himself into you, thrusting shallowly twice more to fuck his cum deep into you before he laid atop you with a low groan of his own.

you whimpered underneath him, your cunt still tight around him while you both started to calm, heart rates returning to normal, sweating skin cooling rapidly in the night air. you both laid still for a moment, bodies relaxing into the leather like you were in a liquid state, a soft whimper escaping you every so often as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you; similarly, katsuki remained still, gently releasing his grip on the back of your head to hold himself up above you before gingerly standing back up behind you, slowly pulling out of you with a soft wince at the sensitivity, glancing back up to study your face when you shivered at the loss of his warm body.

he leans over you to twist his keys in the ignition, the car starting with a low rumble, air blowing from the vents quickly warming both you and the car. you gawk up at him, stars still in your eyes when you connect the dots, “your car’s been fine the whole time?!”

he slides your soaking wet panties back up your thighs, snapping the waistband against your skin once they sat comfortably on your hips again,“obviously, the final girl’s supposed to notice that.”

“the final girl was a bit preoccupied.” you glare, gasping again when his fingers loosely loops around your throat to pull you up to stand in front of him again, lust dripping from his near-silent voice, “well, it’s just your luck the final girl owes me a favour…wanna see if you’ll survive the sequel?"

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#divider by me #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #「kat <3」#「mercury writes」#k-atsukibakugou

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the-stress-express · 2 months

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Y’all so I’ve been reading this absolutely FANTASTIC, WONDERFUL, DELICIOUS Hazbin Hotel fanfic. It’s called What Time Is It? written by @shsy7573 on Ao3. Its currently ongoing with daily updates (as far as I know) and it involves LOTS of Lucifer angst as well as his brothers. I very much recommend it!!!

So I got permission from the author to make a fanart piece using the designs for Lucifer’s brothers they envisioned (while also getting the go-ahead to use my creative liberty) and drew the above piece. It’s NOT finished yet, but I have the basic sketch. I’m just posting this now to see what the author thinks so far.

@shsy7573 @ittybittyluci Here you go, my friend, the base sketch is done! The grey is there to try and help avoid stealing btw. I don’t know if that’s how it works but its worth a try. We got Lucifer in the middle, of course, then Gabriel on the left (with his beautiful long locks), Raphael on the right, and Micheal on top hugging the others with his top wings. And they have turned into a bunch of water fountains. I tried to incorporate everyone’s wings but I’m just going to say they’re mostly hidden (for my sanity) lmao 😂 Please let me know what you think!

Again, thank you for giving me the opportunity to draw these traumatized goofies!!!

Stay hydrated y’all and I’ll post the final product eventually!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel art #Hazbin #hazbin hotel michael #hazbin hotel gabriel #hazbin hotel raphael #my artwork #unfinished #unfinished art #dont steal #dont you fucking dare #stay hydrated #my pookies

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cranberrymoons · 4 months

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holes on the house 🍩

prompt: hole (@steddiemicrofic) LMAO word count: 404 rated: m for innuendo notes: LMAO blame the collective brain cell we all shared for this one; also if it's not obvious, Ian is unnamed freak aka my best friend

“You’re kidding.”

Eddie’s been trying to track it down for weeks now, ever since he heard the rumors floating around about the insanely hot new food truck guy who just opened up shop. He’s looked everywhere, even taken to stalking them online for updates on where they’ll be, but no luck until now, stumbling out of the Hideout after a show with an arm slung over Ian’s shoulders to fumble for the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket.

And there it is: a bright pink truck with an open side, glittering under the streetlight with a loose line of people waiting to order, The Hole printed on the side in white stylized script.

“This is the best night of my life,” Eddie says as he finally manages to snag one of Ian’s cigarettes. He sways a little, tipsy as he cups a hand around his face and bends to light it. “Please tell me we made enough on covers tonight to justify paying way too much for sexy donuts?”

Ian makes a face. “Technically, but–”

“But?”

“But we’d probably be better off just getting gas station ones on the way home.”

Eddie clutches his chest and places his other hand on Ian’s shoulder.

“I’m being so serious right now,” he says. “If you ever loved me– and you do, we all know you do.” He points at the food truck with the end of his cigarette. “Please let me go hit on hot donut boy.”

Ian gives him a flat look, completely unimpressed by Eddie’s dramatics, which– is rude, honestly, after how much time Eddie’s spent staring at donut boy’s buns on Instagram.

Ian sighs. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Eddie says. He claps Ian on the shoulder again. “Fine is good– yes. Donuts. I just really like donuts.”

Ian snorts, shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows Eddie to the back of the line. “Sure you do.”

It takes them a while to make it to the front, but it’s so worth it when they do. So, so fucking worth it.

The guy leans over far enough that Eddie can see down his shirt to the miles and miles of hairy chest. Pops his hip out and grins.

“Saw you play tonight,” he says, eyes flashing. “You guys were good. Holes on the house.”

Eddie almost chokes on his tongue. “What about the donuts?”

The guy laughs. “If you give me your number.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic #steddiemicroficjanuary #steddiemicrofic

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tervaneula · 10 months

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Hi! I'm Terv, welcome to my blog!

How to turn off "Best stuff first" so you'll actually see my posts

Here's some handy-dandy info about my stuff. Might heavily edit this later because I'm nitpicky like that lmao, but anyway, here we go!

Art tag: tervdraws Writing tag: tervdrabbles Personal tag: it's terv

Leonardo/Usagi tag: leoichi

AO3: katterv Pillowfort: tervaneula Bluesky: tervaneula

Commissions: Closed Ko-Fi: tervaneula Redbubble: tervaneula

❌ Do not repost or edit my art and writing! ❌

A little piece about fandom etiquette

My blog is a tcest & apritello & aprileo free zone.

Latest NQK update

Chapter 14: Don't Worry About It

A list of my ROTTMNT related fics under the cut. Most of them are illustrated! 💜

General [9/?]

help me believe (that i'm your brother) (G)

The road to recovery has been long but finally, the brothers are well enough to introduce Future Boy to one of the most comforting of habits - the turtle pile. Unfortunately, Casey has some doubts about his place in their family.

please don't be a hero (again) (G) (part 1 of a series)

Donatello needs his coffee. Leonardo finds him first.

lean on me (i'm strong enough) (G) (part 2 of a series)

Leonardo needs to get better, be better. If not for himself, then for Michelangelo - his baby brother shouldn't worry about him as much as he does.

you make me proud, little brother (G) (part 3 of a series)

Raphael worries and Leo's quip goes wrong. However, it leads to an emotional turnaround neither of them saw coming.

a lesson in trust (G)

Leo feels guilty for getting Raph caught by the Krang and refuses to let go of that burden. His big brother isn't having it anymore.

not quite kintsugi, but close (G) (ongoing)

The plan is simple. If all else fails, Michelangelo will make a time gateway for Casey to undo what Leonardo, in his youthful arrogance, started all those years ago; it will require sacrifice, but they are ready for it. Until the moment comes, of course. Or, in other words - what if Future Leonardo and Michelangelo both end up in the present with Casey? Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery") is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. (Wikipedia)

repeat until death (T) (Major Character Death)

A companion piece to Chapter 7 of not quite kintsugi, but close. Leonardo doesn't want to let go. In the end, as long as Donatello is concerned, he never did.

Cold Feet (G)

Leonardo is enjoying his lazy morning… until a certain human teenager disrupts his peace.

some boys do lay eggs (T)

Leonardo is just about to fall asleep when the weight of a body thuds against the side of his bed, startling him awake, but not awake enough to shake him out of the heaviness of near slumber. “Whassit,” he mumbles, sticking his hand out from his blankets and feeling about until his fingers touch the edge of a hard shell. Ah, he recognises the shape – it’s Leo. “...are we boys?”

sleepless (G)

Leo is so, so tired and goes to his dad. Splinter thinks up a plan to put into motion in the morning - but it seems that he's already helping.

Leoichi (Rise x Usagi Chronicles) [6/?]

with friends like these (G) (part 2 of a series)

Meeting up with his old friends and introducing his new boyfriend to them certainly hadn't been in Yuichi's plans for the day - but it turns out to have been a welcome surprise later when it helps him realise something important about his own feelings.

make your home in me (E) (part 4 of a series)

Click the link to read the summary!

world's end boyfriend (T) (AU)

Leonardo lost Yuichi to the apocalypse almost exactly five years ago. It's now been a year since he, Michelangelo and Casey made their impossible portal trip to the present day, successfully preventing the Krang invasion this time - so imagine Leonardo's surprise when his little brother tells him that they're going to rescue his mate. They only have one chance.

and just like that (T) (ongoing) (part 1 of a series)

What was supposed to be a simple shopping trip to the Hidden City turns into an embodiment of a romcom when Leonardo runs into an unfamiliar white rabbit. Or more accurately, the rabbit's dining table.

soft bunny, warm bunny, little ball of— uh oh (G) (part 3 of a series)

Leonardo feels so lucky. He has the world's softest boyfriend who doesn't mind being treated like a giant teddy bear! Too bad it made him forget something very important.

breathe (and let go) (M) (part 5 of a series)

Leonardo needs a break from his… everything, and Yuichi is always more than happy to indulge him.

cracks never healed (they can heal now) (T)

Their plans for a nice date go awry when Leonardo and Yuichi run into a giant rampaging robot. It's swiftly dealt with, but not without a price.

well worth the wait (G)

Hana has been worried about her adoptive father's new relationship. Yuichi puts those worries to rest.

And that's it! For now. <3

#it's terv #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #rottmnt #usagi chronicles #leoichi #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction

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pagemasters · 29 days

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Fantasies He…

BABY’S FIRST FIC!!!

Author’s notes: So after reading so many for years I thought maybe it’s my turn to take a crack at it. There’s I think 3 parts to this, with the first one having basically no smut and mostly platonic fluff between Az and Feyre, but part 3? Can’t say the same thing for the middle Archeron sister lmao

I swear this started out to be one part but the story told me otherwise, part 2 is fully drafted I’m just revising and editing

I’m a very visual person, so enjoy the floor plan of the nursery and a rough sketch of what I think her mural would be and the star! I am a painter if it wasn’t obvious so the whole portion on starfall stars is actually based on how Bob Ross paints his northern lights, just with modifications BUT I haven’t tried it myself for this specific purpose. Also the colour of Feyre and Rhys’s stars are the colours of the first ones that hit them during Starfall btw! I love the platonic relationships between the inner circle and we don’t get enough of it

If you enjoyed it I would love u forever if you let me know!! :)

Ps. Omg dialogue is so difficult to make realistic but also in character, none of that “hey big brother” etc. shit you see in tv shows where you’re like who tf says that to their sibling ?? Ps.ps. I haven’t taken an English writing class for 5 years so if punctuation was wrong let’s pretend it wasn’t LMAO

I CANT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO AO3 LINK BUT IT’S ON THERE WITH THE SAME USERNAME LOL SORRY

Summary:

Azriel spends the day with Feyre, only to get caught in the rain on the way home. Good thing the townhouse is empty. Or is it…

CHAPTER ONE: DAYDREAMING

The rain finally decided to make its appearance as Azriel stepped out of the River house. Taking a deep breath, he let the soothing scent wash over him as he relaxed his wings.

The meeting with Rhys was short, just a weekly update on the goings around the other courts and allies, nothing that required the full inner circle to make an appearance. Something he knew after centuries of this work should be a good thing, but it doesn’t stop the pang in his chest at the missed opportunity of seeing her.

Not that he didn’t try to catch a glimpse of her. He did take a walk through the beautiful home his brother had built for his mate after seeing him, the smell of cedar and masonry long since faded from the construction days; replaced with flowers and candles and the dinner his shadows whispered Nuala and Cerridwen were working on. The scent of paint lingered though, and he discovered the reason why as he got to the residential wing. His High Lady wasn’t in her studio, but he found her nonetheless with a brush in her tattooed hand.

“I think you missed a spot.” Az said from the doorway, trying to repress his smile at her startled reaction. Even though Feyre and Rhys opted for doorways fashioned with wings in mind, he kept his drawn in tight, not wanting to risk smearing her paint as he stepped inside.

“Rhys won’t let me use the step ladder without him holding it. And me. And the bump.” Feyre twisted to look up from her spot on the floor and smiled in greeting before lowering the brush to pat her stomach in emphasis. She gave her mate’s antics an affectionate eye roll and shake of her head before releasing a heavy sigh, glancing back at her work.

“If I remember correctly,” Az teased, “you are prone to falling quite spectacularly.”

She let out an indignat squawk so loud he had to bite his lips to prevent laughing, her body spinning so fast to face him fully that paint ended up splattering from her brush to the white drop cloth.

Their flying lessons had ceased for the most part since the war, so watching her fly into a tree or eat rocks wasn’t as common an occurrence— but that’s not to say that still doesn’t happen. Knowledge he happens to be privy to not just as her flight teacher, but as the spymaster, something she’s very aware of if the narrowing of her eyes and mouth hanging open are any indication.

It’s hard not to notice the similarities between the sisters, when even with your eyes closed the cadence of their speech was also similar. But it was never so apparent between youngest and oldest Archeron as when Feyre’s eyes pinned him in place, the expression of mock outrage was so much like Nesta’s it was almost comical.

“Ruuuude,” she said, drawing the word out in a whine with pouted lips, no doubt remembering the amount of face plants he’d witnessed when she first began to fly. “I see how you treat your High Lady, Shadowsinger. Just wait, it’s not too late for me to paint a little something in your bedroom.”

“And here I thought pouting and grumbling was beneath royalty, at least you can say you’re a tree hugger.”

She gave him a gesture that was certainly beneath royalty, and he didn’t hold back his chuckle this time.

“What gave you that idea, have you even met Rhys?”

“Oh trust me, you should’ve seen him when we were kids.” He said, grabbing her hands to help her stand. “He discovered in a book that while bat wings look identical to ours, the anatomy of their wing is labeled similar to that of the hand. So for them, their talons are their thumbs. After that, he took it upon himself to hang upside down in silent protest whenever he was mad, but didn’t want his mother to wash his mouth out with soap for swearing.”

“He did not.”

“Mhmm, until his faced turned purple.”

“And where were you and Cass for all this?” Feyre said through her giggling, a wide grin of unrestrained joy plastered on her face.

“He couldn’t have done it alone, a thumbs down by yourself would look stupid.”

“Ah yes, because the three of you hanging upside down like overgrown bats isn’t ridiculous.” She cackled, “How long until he gave it up?”

“A few weeks. After Cassian passed out in the middle of camp and we all got broken capillaries on our faces. Still, a better alternative than the awful tasting soap in Illyria.”

“What, as opposed to other tasting soap?” He just shrugged, smiling.

Rhys’s mom’s reaction to warriors dragging them across the rocky ground home was as lively in his memory as she was when she berated them when her son fessed up. She was less thrilled to hear the real reason than Devlon was having passed out children strewn about the place, but she never did call them out on the lie they fed to Devlon about it being a dare when he came banging on their door. That night though when they were more lucid, she brought them on foot to one of the mountains surrounding their outpost and stood them at the opening of a cave. He still remembers the eyes he felt on them, the warning bells ringing from his shadows as she gestures her hands out and said, “If you want to act like bats, you can join them; or you can toughen up, learn how and when to pick battles and what hills are worth to dying on. Because there will be more people who will piss you off, but this is not an option when you’re leading armies. So,” her hazel eyes meeting each of theirs, “What will it be? Do you want to stay here or take the soap and fly right on home.” Needless to say they bolted home with the taste of pine tar suds coating their mouths like a film no amount of water could rid them of the taste. He could still feel the eyes of whatever was in that cave the entire way home, but thank the cauldron he could fly at that point. His heart ached at the memory of the female, the one he knew picked a low cave for him to make her point, just in case. The one his shadows caught a few times after that upside down on the couch after a rough day when she thought she was alone.

As Feyre’s amusement continued with eyes glazed over—no doubt having a silent conversation with Rhys—Az cleared his throat, his shadows pulling back as he gestured to their surroundings and asked, “So how’s the nursery coming along?”

“It’s going great,” she replied after a moment, her laughter subsiding as she surveyed the mural. “I know it’s not geographically correct, and that Starfall and the time when our courts insignia’s stars show don’t overlap, but I couldn’t not include them. I want him and any possible future child to see the night court as I did when I first fell in love with it and their dad.”

Indeed, while he knew Rhys was already in love with her, he got to watch Feyre love him back as much as he deserved in real time the longer she was here. And the way she captured the land they all loved so much here was… breathtaking.

On the wall that held the doorway he just stepped through lay the mountain with the moonstone palace atop it. The first place she saw here. They both knew where the doors to Hewn city rest below, but it was covered by the landscape. As if there were no room for nightmares in this room, even if it was a court this babe may one day rule.

“I have no idea how you made that mountain so realistic,” he said to her in awe, pointing to the painting adjacent to the wall they just looked at.

“The crib is going to go right below it when the rooms done. I want it to watch over him.” She replied almost reverently as she looked up.

The mountain was the tallest of the three she painted, and it looked just as it had on his trek up there with his brothers during the rite. Physically it was practically stone for stone, those three stars lines up overhead perfectly, but the energy differed. Instead of the cold and foreboding thing he remembered on the way up, it seemed almost… euphoric? As if the wild joy and love Rhysand, Cassian and he felt as they made their way to the top and won seeped its way onto the painting. Like the unyielding strength from that mountain and what it brought out of them would guide and protect him, just like it did for the three winged dots surrounding the monolith at the tip. How that was even possible was beyond him.

He could barely tear his gaze away, but snickered as he saw the tiny but recognizable building at the base of it to the right. “The cabin, huh?”

“Of course, gotta prep him for one day kicking all of your asses during your snowball fight.” She added, blushing. “I put few snowballs flying just for good luck.”

Though he knew the other reason the cabin was significant to Feyre and Rhys, the thought of his future nephew joining their game warmed him. But It did make trying not to focus on other non-winged and winged babies that could one day join in the snowball fight impossible. Children have always been an abstract idea, a figment he knew existed but besides Rhys’s sister, he wasn’t around. And after what happened to her… He thought for a long time he would never have one of his own, but that sentiment start to change in recent years. He could avoid it most days though, but being surrounded by the baby stuff made the hypothetical harder to ignore. The thoughts on if he’d have his own little ones propped on his hip and curled into his chest with their chubby cheeks and inquisitive eyes. If they would have his hazel or her golden brown ones, or something different if they adopted. Would their little hands or clothes or hair get caught in the scales of his armour just like hers did when he took her on her first flight to the town house from the House of Wind, when he held her for the first time. Would Elain… Az paused, stopping that train of thought before it just twisted the knife even further, seeing more things he can’t have.

His shadows began to circle him, and if Feyre noticed she politely didn’t comment on it before pointing out what she was working on when he interrupted her.

To the right of the cabin and right were she was sat Velaris, and it really did look like a city of starlight with how she painted the glowing nightscape. He could make out the four markets that were the heart of the city, with extra emphasis on where the town house sat along with the new residence they were currently in. Bisecting through it all, the Sidra River looked so realistic he could probably skip a rock across its surface. It flowed like a living thing, reflecting the lights from the buildings on its edge and even the stars above. Two of which weren’t normal stars.

Above the city proper and even the flat topped mountain that held the House of Wind was the beginnings of starfall.

“How-“Azriel could barely get out, “how is this even possible?”

“Perks of now being immortal; plenty of time to practice. And having a husband with wings who takes you to get aerial views.” She simply said gesturing to their city, as if she didn’t create magic with swipes of colours.

“The green one is mine, and the light blue one is Rhys’s. I’m planning to get everyone to add their own star to the wall.” Now looking him, she smirked. “Which means you came at a perfect time, Shadowsinger. Your turn.”

He gave her an unbelieving expression, shadows instantly vanishing. “You can’t be serious.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, “if I trust Cassian with a paintbrush, you’ll be fine. He’s coming by in a few days when he gets a free moment, Nesta and her two friends are keeping him busy with training.” Nesta is keeping him busy with more than just that, it’s a wonder he even has energy to train them.

But looking at Rhysand’s mate, Azriel saw her glow in a way different from her powers. Feyre radiated joy as her hand cradled her stomach despite barely showing, not caring about paint getting on her already splattered clothes. For his brother, for the friend beside him and his nephew in her womb, he removed his jacket and let out a resounding sigh in defeat. “What do you need me to do?”

So Feyre excitedly brought him over to her pile of paint tubes on the drop cloth. She grabbed the white and as he selected the colour phthalo blue she went off to prep the clean, dry brushes and a fresh palette for him.

“So pick the area of the sky you want your star to be, I’d like to keep the inner circle’s additions mostly above Velaris, but I’ll add tiny ones fading out once everyone is done. Amren and Mor are away, Cass is busy and who knows if or when Nesta would want to contribute. That means besides Rhys and I, you have the pick of the litter.”

“What about Elain?” He asked, trying to keep his voice and face as neutral as possible when she handed him a 3 inch brush already dipped in his blue.

“I’ll drag her in here after dinner when she gets in from the garden. The colour of the sky is already dry which is the important part, so there’s no time constraint on when everyone adds theirs besides my due date.” She gave him a knowing smile which he dutifully ignored, along with the disappointment in his chest as she confirmed Elain wasn’t in. “Now I want you to cover a large area of where you generally want the shape of the star to go, it doesn’t have to be perfect but cover much more than you think you’d need to.”

He hesitates, “won’t this cover up your sky? It’s a dark colour.”

“Just trust me.”

He followed her instructions, cringing as his brush made contact with her beautiful wall and went over the faint background stars she had already done, but relaxed when he saw they were still partially visible.

Az looked back at her, seeing his shadows lazily inspecting them, as if they wanted a part in the activity their master is occupied with. Feyre playfully eyed the curious one that grazed her hand as she took his current brush from his scarred hand to switch it. “Now with this fan brush, I want you to coat it in the white paint. And as you do so, get a feel for how the bristles bend and move.”

Doing as High Lady said, he got her guidance once he brought the loaded brush to the wall, being sure to dab, not swipe the white in a near full coverage circle followed by a line over the shade of blue he had no idea how to pronounce.

“So this is where the magic begins,” she stated when he finished and passed a third brush over, a flat paddle one identical to the first and this time a cloth. “You see that perfectly clean teardrop you made? You’re gonna ruin it.”

At the alarmed look he gave her, she just cackled. “I knew you’d make that face, Rhys did the exact same. I want you to very lightly swipe the brush starting at the largest end of the teardrop and out towards the tail of the star. That’s the only motion you’ll be doing. And after each swipe you can gently wipe off the brush before starting again. You can also practice the strokes around the mountain until you feel ready like Rhys did, the sky there is also dry.”

With a deep breath, he took a step away and tried it until he felt like he got the technique she wanted down. This was for his family, he reminded himself, he will not let his nephew down. And despite getting her nod of approval, he still felt like he was going in blind as he did what she said and his jaw dropped.

Well shit. Now he understood why she wanted him to put down the colour he chose first.

“The blue is actually transparent; so while it looks dark in the tube, it blends out much lighter. Especially with white under or overtop. You’re doing wet-on-wet blending.” What was once just a bright blob over blue so dark you couldn’t see it on her perfect walls, he could now see how the white faded. How the light and the dark mixed until they became one. So Az wiped the excess off his brush, and continued on and on until it looked similar enough to what she and Rhys created. They fell into a rhythm, Feyre handing him back the fan brush to brighten or a new one with bristles so impossibly soft as they worked as a team. She barely had to tell him what to do now, so with next to no pressure he feathered it out vertical rather than the almost horizontal strokes from before, until only a streak of blue light remained. They could’ve been at this for minutes or hours, he had no idea. He didn’t even question her instruction to use a densely bristled tool he could’ve sworn was a toothbrush to flick on watered down white paint for the star trail.

“This is incredible, Feyre.” He stated, stepping back at last.

“That wasn’t me, that was all you my friend.” She grinned at him. “Once everyone’s is dry, I’m adding a sheer shimmery paint to make them pop, but even without it you did a beautiful job.”

He felt heat rise to his face, and inclined his head in thanks without removing his eyes from the wall.

“You certainly have an eye for this, Az. Care to quit and become a painter? I could use an assistant.”

A chill went through him, and he started to turn in her direction before the window caught his attention. Dusk must have fallen along with the rain who knows how long ago. About to rub his temples, Feyre squeaked out a warning before he remembered the task at hand and looked down at himself. The plain black long sleeve shirt covered in splatters didn’t matter, he goes through them like water for work but the paint coating his skin made his stomach drop the same way her jest did. Much different than the red he was used to seeing there, all the blood he still couldn’t wash away.

He can paint a picture with his knife, but nothing like Feyre’s ability of creation. Each slash he makes as delicate and precise a dance as any Nesta favours, but instead it’s to a symphony of screams. And unlike Elain… the only soil he sees is grave dirt. If the bodies make it that far.

His work is never meant to been seen by others, it’s means to and end, a way to protect his family and his court. Unlike their work, where it would be a crime to hide it from the world.

“Tempting offer, Cursebreaker,” Az murmured, swapping the dirty cloth for a damp one his shadows brought him. Paying close attention to his siphons and not his scars, he still didn’t feel clean enough no matter how hard he wiped the paint from his skin. “Sadly, I don’t think your mate would be too thrilled to have to hire someone else to feed the creatures in Hewn City.”

She snorted, making a lighthearted comment about at least no one had to feed Byraxis, for now… The forced tease in her voice didn’t fool him as she realized she must’ve hit a nerve, but he appreciated her effort anyway.

“I do have to head out, but I’ll pop by soon to see the progress when I drop off paperwork.” He told her, his lips pressed to the top of her head and shockingly made contact with her hair in a brief farewell. Rhys must’ve lessened the shield knowing Az was with her, but not by much considering both her and the babe’s scent was still concealed.

Feyre did invited him to stay for dinner which he politely declined. It wouldn’t be served for an hour, but he needed space and to fly to clear his head—still feeling like if he looked down he’d be dripping blood that didn’t belong to him as he made his was out. He did try not to rush out as he walk through the maze of supplies strewn about the covered floor, keeping his wings high even as his shadows tugged at him, but he had a feeling she knew his reason for leaving. Well, at least the other reason.

Lightning cracks through the sky, snapping Azriel out of his memories. Damn, He must be more tired than he thought. If breaking one of the cardinal rules of flying—also known as “PAY ATTENTION JACKASS!” by his brothers when they taught him—wasn’t enough, he’s not even going to the right place. Despite not living there for years, he’d been heading towards the town house and not the House of Wind.

The storm just seems to be picking up, but at least with the downpour he no longer felt the warm spray of blood coating him rather than the paint, he just felt nothing at all. Well, nothing besides wanting to get the fuck home. Az really didn’t have the energy to fly up a mountain or winnowing through this even if it wouldn’t be his first time. But considering how often lightning hits the rocks rather than the surrounding city, crashing at the town house is easiest. It’s for the best, with it sitting empty now. At least he’d be alone.

Az pauses mid-flight though, when he notices the lights already on inside. And the smoke rising from the chimney only to dissipate in the rain.

What the hell? Who would be dumb enough to break into their high lord and inner circle’s home? It’s not like it’s broadcasted who owns the house but it’s pretty common knowledge after this long.

At least storms can be a great tool for his field of work, it’s almost a blessing in disguise he plans to use to its full advantage. Landing atop the roof as gently as possible, he ensures his wing beat blends in with the rain like it has hundreds of times before. Using his siphons to unlock the door and slipping inside, the creak of the hinge merely just a gust of wind as he shuts it behind him.

That’s when the smell of jasmine and honey hits him so strongly he has to bite back his moan. But it seems like he was the only one who did.

Because mixed within that scent ingrained in his brain, is Elain’s arousal.

And she’s…

Oh fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

#elriel #sarah j maas #Baby’s first fic #Fluff #platonic love #bob Ross who?#There will be smut I promise #Az has baby fever?#elain archeron #feyre archeron #azriel

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tallymonster · 2 months

Text

Memories of Us Chapter 17

Masterlist || AO3

Hey another Election Day Tuesday and that means I have a lot of time to kill! So a new update is the result lmao!

As always, thanks to @cheesy-cryptid for blessing me with permission to use her art as inspiration.

Thanks also goes to @micropoe10 and @tragedybunny for being my besties and betas and everything else for me. I love you both. Extra special thanks to @leomonae for encouraging me to try first person pov lol I DID IT MONA. BE PROUD OF ME.

Warnings for this chapter are as follows: mentions of death, violence, and grief.

This part of the city was peaceful at night, it was one of the things Astarion loved most. The walk back from Octavia’s house wasn't too bad, she lives about a 30 minute stroll from the main city. Pretty convenient, all things considered.

He walks down a hidden path that leads straight from her little cottage to the main road. He could've taken one of the other connecting streets to her house, but there was a somewhat romantic feeling to the solitude of being surrounded by the trees and wind.

Astarion steps towards the gates of the museum, no one should be here by now. Pushing the gate open, he makes his way down the paved walkway. The warmth of the sun still radiates from the ground. He turns and makes a detour down to the gardens.

The stretch of gravel to the lush greens is long, a tall figure peeks out from behind the rows of flowering shrubs Astarion surrounded her in. Tav’s arms stretched out to greet those who visited.

My treasured flower.

Astarion walks towards her, plucking a few buds from the walls of vines that wrap around each other. He looks up at her and sits at the bench at the base of her statue. Her gaze permanently locked in the adoring way she used to give him when he would fall at his knees and worship the ground she walked on.

I regret each choice that took me from you. My fears always let me make the worst decisions.

He stares up at her beautifully carved stone face, knowing it can't react to the words he says to her. “Hello, beautiful.” Astarion places the small bundle of flowers at her feet, a small token of everlasting devotion.

Staying at Octavia’s house felt strange. It's been a long time since he’s tried to do anything like that. After he left Tav, it felt wrong. No one was like her. The few he tried were pretty to look at, sure. With the right words, he could get close to anyone, but not the same way.

Astarion feels a small flutter of anxiety in his gut, something that he keeps trying to push away. This feeling of longing growing for someone else. The same feelings of excitement he felt when Octavia let him bite down and drink from her veins.

“I can't stop myself from thinking I've betrayed you by letting myself partake from another. I keep seeing you when I look at her. The same eyes, so soft, adoring, and curious. I hear you in her laugh, her words of comfort, and her cries of ecstasy. Her touch is sensual and familiar, so intimate in ways I've longed for. I even saw you when I finally gave myself away to the urge after I fed on her sweet blood.”

Astarion lays with his back flat on the stone bench. The stars shining as bright as that night he led Tav to the graveyard and lived his first night truly free. He closes his eyes and sinks into the warmth of the stone. If he tried hard enough, he could almost replace the breeze with Tav’s fingers running through his hair. He sighs and begins to speak.

“If you only knew how much I wanted to turn back and take you with me. I couldn't forgive myself for leaving you, but with all those feral spawn, I couldn't take the chance that you would be in danger. The thought of you being safe somewhere else with anyone else was better to me than having you by my side.”

He pauses, opens his eyes, and plays with his sleeve. “I couldn't take the chance for you to have a family away from you knowing that I couldn't give you the children you wanted. There were too many things that I knew you wanted and deserved.”

Astarion lets his mind wander. He stares at Tav’s face. “I guess now is a good time to explain myself. There's things I need to apologize for, and some things I need to tell you.” His voice quivers slightly as he trails off. The memories of the last century and a half without her flash periodically through his mind. He usually pushes them away, but tonight he lets them wash over him.

—-------------

The journey to the Underdark was lonesome and tiring, always having to lurk in the shadows. How many people would recognize me without her? How many would take their chances at killing me? I had to stay shrouded once more, sometimes I would get lucky and cross paths with someone needing a favor or two.

I’m not sure how many times I had to kill a shady merchant, an abusive husband, or slaver just to have a place to stay during the light of day. It seemed like one of the Gods finally came to watch over me during this long trek. It was always about killing the right people.

It took three months for me to finally make my way down to the Underdark. Considering, people weren't too open with any information on what had happened to the 7006 vampire spawn that we had freed. I had heard rumors of a mass casualty event, but without more information, it would be difficult to fully understand what they meant.

Eventually, I found a familiar face in the Myconid colony. I ran into my sister Dalyria as she was buying some potion ingredients from a traveling merchant.

I still remember the wide eyed stare Dal had on her face, her gasp of surprise as she dropped the potion bottle in her hands. Her sobs of happiness when she held me tightly in a grateful embrace.

The words that followed after she pulled away would haunt me forever.

“I thought you died with the rest of them.”

I was taken back, the rumors were indeed true. “How many?” I asked, anxiously awaiting Dal’s answer. She hesitates in answering, “We lost more than half our people that day. Mostly the Gur children, the starved, the weak, the ones who most likely wanted to die.”

We talked more once she finished. She led us down to the outpost she and Leon had settled in. I listened as Dal spoke quietly.

“We got caught in a solar eclipse. It was a total disaster. Youssen promised that he calculated everything correctly, but he didn't. I knew it would've been dangerous. I warned them, but he and Petras kept fighting with Leon and I. They were so desperate to get here and live freely that they turned the rest of the family against us.”

Dal sniffled and continued, “Everything happened so fast. They promised they had it down to the minute, but it seems that even with precise instructions, you can't account for arrogance.”

“Arrogance?” I asked, looking at our surroundings. Cave systems that twisted and snaked together to form a hidden stronghold. After a couple of miles or so, we were finally there.The broken and dilapidated temple where they had settled.

It looked strangely reminiscent of one that our group had visited once. I pushed the thought away as Dal led me through it. I noticed the number of spawn that resided there, a stark difference between the amount I helped free back in the bowels of Cazador’s manor.

Dal scoffed, “One can never account for those who are desperate to prove their point. No matter the cost to those around them. Like I said before, Petras and Youssen turned everyone against us. Violet and Aurelia followed soon after they explained their reasoning. It was hard to argue two against four after that.

They wanted to get here as soon as we could. So when they heard of the eclipse they figured it would save us around half a day. Leon and I couldn't argue with that kind of time, so the most skilled of us went first.”

“Where is Leon?” I interjected.

Dal’s eyes locked behind my shoulder, I turned and saw a staircase leading up to the next floor. “He goes up there alone frequently. After we were released,we explored the manor for a while. Gathering clothes and some other things for the journey. He saw Victoria. He..” she exhales, hesitating some.

“He hasn't been the same since. She was all he had left from his previous life.” Dal finishes with a quiver in her voice.

“Children are dangerous company for vampires.” I replied empathetically.

“Quite. Come on, let's get you a bed and some blood.” Dal placed her hand on my shoulder, she smiled, and walked off after a few seconds.

I followed her up to a small room with a solitary bed. She held the door open as I walked past her, dropping the brown leather bag I held over my shoulder.

“Apologies if it's not as luxurious as you're used to” she says with a small sarcastic tilt, "It's one of the few private rooms we have. Figured you would appreciate that over aesthetics.”

As Dal prepared to leave, I turned to her. She's paused by the door, halfway between the frame and the hallway. “Thank you.” My voice was quiet and soft. Dal looked at me and smiled, “Of course, brother. What is family for after all?”

—--------------------------—-----

Twenty years would pass with little problems. The vampires that lived in the outpost were used to having to ration. Hunting in small packs, majority of the time Leon and I would supervise them and teach them to hunt. We tried to be careful about making sure the younglings never went too far by themselves.

As the main hunters, the two of us would seek and kill animals on the surface at night, bringing the meat to merchants around Faerun once we broke down the carcasses and bleed them dry.

With the money we gathered, we would buy more blood from other butchers up top. We’d also get blood from other less than reputable sources, but as long as the blood was good, we wouldn't ask too many questions.

Leon and I were on our way back to the outpost after a few days out hunting and trading when Leon stopped mid step. “Brother, something feels off.” He held out his arm, took a few steps forward toward the opening of a cave, and stayed quiet for a moment. I walked up to him and concentrated on the noises around us.

I heard people yelling, sounds of feet shuffling, a loud rumble, and then sharp screams. “DAL!” Leon gasps, and rises to his feet, sprinting out to the maze of cave openings.

Once we got closer, Leon pointed out the smoke billowing out from the outpost, the thick clouds growing darker in color as we neared our destination.

“Astarion, we must find Dal!” Leon stood ready, with his hand on his crossbow. I looked around and noticed the two converging tunnels in front of us.

“We have to split up, Leon. We can cover more ground that way. Find her, I’ll see about the others.” I commanded, grabbing onto the daggers hung on my hip. I turned to run when Leon grabbed my arm, “Be careful, I’ll do my best to find you as soon as I find Dal.”

I nodded, sprinting down the tunnel. As I neared the opening of the path, the smoke became a thick curtain, making it more difficult to see. I pulled at the leather bag that hung from my back, searching for anything to help. “Come on, there's got to be something here.”

My hands moved frantically inside the bag, until I felt the texture of a scroll. “Fucking finally!” I unfurled it and began to speak the words inscribed. I raised my right hand and braced myself, a giant gust of wind came out in a burst of energy, clearing the way forward.

My legs pistoned me forward as I continued to look for Dal. I hurriedly made my way to the back of the outpost. When I got closer I noticed some rocks leading towards another tunnel. I ran following the path of debris until I reached the end.

One of the exits had been collapsed.

I knelt in front of the pile of rocks and began to dig into it, using my body weight to pull big pieces of stone away from the opening. I dug into the avalanche, my hands becoming raw and bloody as jagged pieces of rubble cut into my skin.

I keep digging, a sharp kind of sulfuric scent hits my nose and goes down my throat. I can taste the acidic notes, it’s acrid with a hint of ash. I immediately recognize it. Runepowder. However many people were in that tunnel, they were certainly dead. Someone did this on purpose.

I must find Dal.

The adrenaline pumping through my body kept me going until I heard yelling coming from inside the outpost. “Dal!” I ran into an open door in front of me, up some stairs. I crept up to a broken wall, the opening leading to the dining hall’s ceiling lined with wooden beams connecting the adjacent wall.

I stayed hidden in the shadows concentrating on the sounds around me. A short time passed before I heard some movement coming from underneath. I stepped forward and saw Dal and Leon. I gasped softly, gently stepping out to one of the beams obscured by the darkness.

Soon after, a group of at least 10 Gur flood into the room and block the only exit. A man steps forward as Dal and Leon realize they are outnumbered with no way out.

The man begins to speak, “Where is the third? We were told there were three of you running this bastardized commune.”

I continued to creep along the wooden supports, Leon noticed me and quickly turned back to the man in front of him. “I came back alone. My brother was…killed by a bulette when we were on our way back. It caught us by surprise. I was barely able to get away from it. I tried to save him but we couldn't overtake it. It killed him before I killed it.”

The man looks at him suspiciously, he nods and the hunters behind him point their crossbows at Dal. “I will not ask again, vampire scum. Where is the third?”

“I swear to you he's dead! There's no one else other than us now. You killed the others, did you not? I saw the bodies, the rubble, the fires. You said you collapsed a tunnel when you came in, is that not enough? We cannot turn anyone into vampires, we're mere spawn. We’ve been living in peace for a decade and a half. Why do you come hunt us now?”

Leon held his hands up as he plead his case, Dal trembled as she hid her face in her hands.

“One of yours killed an innocent woman. Found her drained near the sewers in the Gate. We caught him sneaking around underneath the Elfsong Tavern’s wine cellar. He told us about this place with at least 1500 of you waiting to be killed. Planned this little raid for a few weeks. Had some people watching your little outpost. Even paid some merchants to tell us your movements.” The leader explained.

Dal uncovered her face and looked up, noticing me watching them. Her eyes were full of fear. She shook her head slowly, mouthing “Run.”

I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry, I retreated to the shadows before the leader turned and looked up where I was just perched.

The man turned back to Leon and Dal while I watched them. “Kill them. If the third is gone, that means there shouldn't be any more of these abominations. Ulma should have destroyed you all when she had the chance, now that she's no longer our leader, her deals with you all are void. Consider this a mercy.”

He walked a few yards then he stops and speaks with a serious tone, “May the Moonmaiden have mercy on your souls.” He looks over at a woman to his right and nods at her. She steps forward and yells out “Take your positions. Fire on three.” I could've shot at her, but I would've be easily outnumbered.

I had to sit here and watch as the last two people I ever felt close to were slaughtered like lowly carrion. The Gur took no hesitation in killing Dal and Leon. They shot at them with what looked like silver tipped crossbow bolts.

I suffered hearing Dal and Leon’s screams of pain, the sounds of them dying were unbearable. I waited in the darkness for what seemed like hours until the Gur left, a wake of devastation behind them. The second their footsteps waned, I sprinted over to Dal and Leon’s crumpled bodies.

“No no no nononono.” I choked back, Dal and Leon’s faces were battered and abused, their clothes slathered in blood. I felt the rage and devastation crash down on me.

The guilt for letting the young ones hunt when I knew better than to trust them to go off alone. Leaving Dal alone while Leon and I left. Splitting up and letting Leon go off to find his death.

I couldn't help the sobs that came out when I was holding them, I realized I was finally truly alone. The sadness and anger just came flooding out. My eyes stung as the tears came out, lungs burning when the air expanded them sharply. I gripped on Dal and Leon, their bodies growing even colder by the hour.

A week would pass, I gathered what I could, buried my siblings, and left. I made my way back to Baldur’s Gate hoping to sneak into Cazador’s manor.

I knew the people of the city were too afraid to go near it. Leon and I had spread rumors of it being haunted, so that kept them out. We used to sneak inside using the underground tunnels that led to the kennels, ransacking the place and selling off what we could.

Leon came up with the idea of stashing small piles of gold away in loose floorboards around the manor. His foresight was a blessing.

I began to gather the piles and count my reluctant inheritance. After finishing, I realized I was set for the foreseeable future, but I still had a manor to legally obtain. I talked my way into becoming a historical conservator given the relics I had at my disposal.

My vast inside knowledge could be chalked up to being a lover of history and a studied mind. No one would be the wiser. I decided then that I would go to the City Council and plead my case to purchase the manor to turn into a museum honoring those whom I loved.

I took great care to disguise myself, thankfully Wyll wasn't in the City. He and Karlach were in Avernus. Gale had gone back to Waterdeep. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were living in a cottage somewhere near the mountains…And you…I don't remember where you ended up.

More time would pass, the museum was open after a year and a half of me selling, restoring, commissioning, and appointing a board. I opened with a team of people to oversee the major projects while I maintained the procurement of items for the galleries.

A century or so passed when I met a familiar looking young man. He came to apply for the lead assistant position straight out of Blackgate. Usually, their graduates would go out and teach themselves, but he wanted to research and preserve these items instead of being in front of a classroom full of people.

I questioned him for a few minutes, noticing the unusually similar flair he had to his speech patterns. The air of assuredness behind his statements.

When he told me his name was Gale Dekarios. I could hardly hide the shock on my face, luckily he didn't notice. “Dekarios? Any relation to the wizard of old legends?” I asked tentatively awaiting his response.

I watched as he wrung the corner of his blazer and cleared his throat. “Y- yes sir. He was my grandfather.”

Was? I thought wizards lived hundreds of not thousands of years? I hesitate before questioning him further. “Was? Don't wizards usually live many lifetimes over? Did he get killed in a grand battle?”

The young man bites his lip. A worried look flashed over his face. “Well it's still pretty recent, sir. I'm sure you know all about the Netherese Orb that used to occupy his chest?”

I swallowed fearing the worst, my throat clenched as if I had swallowed fire. I nod urging him to continue.

“A few years ago, my grandad started to have these bouts of chest pains that would last hours, days, sometimes even up to a whole tenday. My grandmum was a druid healer, so she would make him different teas, tinctures, balms, pretty much anything to help him. Nothing would ease his suffering. One day she helped him to bed, like she usually did, and she had me assist her in making tea for him.

My grandmum told me he was dying and I was the only male in our family that wasn't adopted or married into it. So I guess he wanted to keep his story alive and told me everything. His past, his mistakes and triumphs, friends he made and lost. He and I were close, he was my best friend.”

Gale cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “So yes, I am related to *the* Gale Dekarios. I hope I can live up to the expectations my grandfather set forth.”

I hired him on the spot.

Now, to make a long explanation somewhat shorter, this is where things get complicated, my love. Here, I feel I may have fucked up.

You see, there was this woman Gale hired. It was about 6 years after hiring Gale. I was off in the Underdark around the anniversary of Dal and Leon’s deaths. I came up with some story about looking for artifacts to cover my tracks since Gale liked to ask a million questions. Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree?

Once I got back to the museum, Gale had informed me of our new hire, Octavia. I imagined if she made an impression on Gale, then she would be useful at least at the administrative level.

I couldn't imagine what came over me when I got to know her more .

—--------------

Astarion sighs with a long exhale. He stares at Tav’s face, hesitating as if he's actually saying this all to her. “She's indescribable. Absolutely beautiful, smart, she challenges me the way you used to.” Sitting up, he presses his back against the stone platform.

“That night I saw her outside of the restaurant, I swore I saw you. You in front of me like the day we met.” He plays with his sleeve, not knowing how to proceed with this long overdue apology. Even if Tav wasn't really here physically, he was truly able to say the things he held behind.

All the regret from his idiotic spontaneous decisions, grief from losing those he loved and held closest, and most of all the devastating pain from losing everything he took for granted.

At the same time, something had dropped this precious jewel on his lap. Was it possible for him to be able to open up to someone the way he did with Tav? Octavia showed that she trusted him when he confessed about his true self. She even let him bite down and drink her blood.

Everything about Octavia was feeling the same, could she be some sort of reincarnation of his lost love? No. That would be impossible. Humans can't do that. Can they? He shakes the idiotic notion away, softly laughing to himself.

Besides, he saw the picture of Octavia’s family.

Astarion sits with his gaze pointed up at the night sky. It seemed like so long ago when he was doing the same type of internal argument about Tav. He's enthralled by Octavia and agonizing about it. Gods, somehow he was always stuck in a cycle of perpetual pining.

He wants to open up to Octavia more. Sprinkle in some truths to the little lies he tells.

Opening up to people has always been a struggle for Astarion, but Octavia has a way of prying his emotions out of him. It's so easy for him to let her reach into the emptiness and allow her to pull his past out.

Her hands pull at the chains around his heart, slightly loosening them with each gaze, each fleeting touch, all of the little ways she reminded him of Tav. Was this a sign of approval from beyond the grave? Maybe this was Tav’s way of pushing him to live again just as she did once before.

Astarion is in deep contemplation, he doesn't begin to notice as the night sky begins to turn light. The bird songs become more animated, he is knocked out of his head and begins to make his way inside. Thank the Gods that his suite is close to the gardens. The manor had secret entrances and rooms for him and his siblings to come in and out, convenient for a thoughtful vampire losing track of time.

As he goes into the museum, he sees the first rays of light break through the tops of the trees. It feels like that morning after the tiefling party, the cool air of morning breaking against the feeling of the warmth from the sun.

Astarion feels the same hopeful warmth from within. The same tug of curiosity that wants to allow Octavia in. He lingers at the doorway, watching the same sun begin to rise above the trees. So many similarities to weed through. He would take his time though, he can't rush this opportunity he's been given.

He has to trust whatever force is guiding him at this point. It brought Octavia to him, so it must be good. Turning to walk up the steps to his suite, he looks out the window and stares absentmindedly at Tav’s statue. Suddenly, a tiny green and blue hummingbird flits by and stops at the row of gardenias that lined the windowsill.

Astarion watches as the little bird takes a sip from the buds. It's fragile wings glint off the reflection from the glass. After zipping through a couple of flowers, it hovers facing him as if watching him. It's little head tilts to the left, then to the right, before flying away.

It's been so long since he's been around early enough to see them feed. It brings a small tug to his heart. Tav’s words about her people and how they grieve flooded back into his mind.

“There's a legend in my culture about hummingbirds being messengers for the dead. They say if you see one, it's a sign that your loved one is watching over you. I always thought it would be the way I would communicate with you if I ever died.” she’d say.

I just laughed it off and said “Oh darling, you don't have to worry about that. I would follow you into the dark if that day ever came. I’ll be close behind.” Another lie I told her.

Gods...

I think it's time I stopped lying to myself.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel @hereliesblackdragon @misscrissfemmefatale

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #fic: memories of us #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios

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reds-skull · 2 months

Text

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I was like, 'damn, it's been a while since I updated this fic...' [it's been 6 days, but it's a while for me] so I started writing yesterday.

Woke up today and went 'damn this is trash lmao'. Rewrote everything. Much happier with this chapter, I've been waiting to write the final scene for the entire fic >:)

This chapter is called "Accursed Among Weapons". Hope you like it!

Page 23 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 10:

May I know your face, the Blind Man asks, The Beast regards eyes unseeing, I thought you blind, Indeed they are, though my hands have yet to fail, The Beast nears, eyes shine beguiled, Hands pass over mounds and hills, shell damaged, Yet the man determines, you are no Beast, Your hands find mine fitting, your nose twisted like mine, Your eyes close, when brushed upon like mine, The Beast retreats, hands leave paths, Then perhaps, O fallen knight, You are like me, Perhaps, you too are a beast.

The communicator knew.

(You’ve always been a disappointment, son. Just like your mother-)

The Hunter must know as well.

(You need anything, you let me know, Simon. We don’t go through things alone. We are a team-)

(Don’t you want it to stop, Riley? You can end this. Just break. Let go-)

And…

(Ah wanted to be like him, back then-)

Now…

(now Ah want to be better)

Johnny knows.

He can see it in the tense line of his spine, in the way he stepped back from the gleeful man. As if the distance will make his words ring any less true.

The communicator’s face contorts, smile stretching and stretching, and suddenly he’s not the Hunter’s soldier anymore. He’s his father, cruel and heartless, he’s Roba, sickeningly sweet as he rips away at flesh methodically.

He’s Simon, rotting in a grave, maggots and dirt burrowing into his eyes, teeth exposed by decaying cheeks. A permanent grin.

The knife slides down his sleeve faster than Ghost can think, the beating of his heart silencing all other sounds. He doesn’t shake as he draws his arm back, and throws. The blade whistles through the air, a shrill cry, and a thunk as it lands in the communicator’s eye.

Simon’s vile smile lasts for a moment longer, before the dead man slumps and the vision fades.

Yet it’s not over, the memories keep flooding Ghost’s mind, an incessant swarm muddling his senses. He can’t kill him, the dead man in his mind, the corpse he dragged out of the grave.

Soap turns around, slowly, eyes dragging from Ghost’s still raised hand to his mask.

He’s only snapped out of thoughts when Johnny’s voice mutters, “what… the fuck… did you do?”

Ghost looks at the Sergeant, frozen in shock. He looks at the corpse he created, and he realizes.

He just killed the communicator. The Hunter’s right hand.

His way to revenge.

Soap stomps to him, pulling Ghost up by his tacvest only to slam him to the wall, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YE JUST DO?!”

“I didn’t- He wasn’t-” Ghost fumbles through the words, mind still reeling.

Soap winds his fist back to hit him, a snarl hidden under the black face mask, right as the door to the room is slammed open. Everyone halts for a charged moment.

The soldier snaps out first, shouting and raising his rifle to shoot. Soap is faster, though, and he takes Ghost’s pistol out of his holster, and takes the hostile down with a perfect headshot. It wasn’t fast enough. Every other soldier is alerted now.

Soap takes the soldier’s rifle and throws it at Ghost’s direction, taking his from the table. He glances at him, and Ghost’s heart shrivels at the pure hatred in his eyes.

(All you know to do is hurt, Simon. You should’ve stayed dead)

“Ah’m not done with ye, jus’ so ye know. Get up.”

Ghost uses the wall to lift himself on shaky legs, “Soap-”

The Sergeant leaves the room, not sparing another second to talk. It leaves a bitter weight sinking in his guts.

(How much more can he hurt Johnny?)

Ghost takes the rifle, inhaling deeply. He fucked Soap over enough as it is, he can’t leave him to fight alone. He leaves the room, and the slumped corpse, behind.

Outside, Soap is taking cover behind a stack of crates, bullets splintering the wooden boxes. A group of soldiers is trying to push up the staircase, currently stuck due to Soap’s bullets. It won’t stay like that long, the cover quickly becoming ineffective and the sheer amount of hostiles overwhelming.

He sidled by Soap, “you got any more gas bottles?”

“If I had any, I would’ve thrown them already, ye feckin’ overgrown bastard.”

A bullet hits the wall right next to Soap’s head, far too close for comfort, and the Sergeant leans out to shoot back. Ghost pulls him back to cover, ignoring his answering curses, “let me go, Ghost!”

(He can’t watch Johnny die today)

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” He grunts, challenging Soap with a glare. The Sergeant clenches his jaw, “ye got a better idea?!”

His gaze drifts to the labels on the boxes behind them. Soap follows it, and Ghost can tell something on the manifest catches his attention, “think you can craft another trap for ‘em?”

Ghost watches Soap’s bright blue eyes skim through the items listed, a small grin growing on his face.

(He wishes he could keep it there)

“Aye…” Soap pulls out a knife, cutting the tape off one of the smaller boxes, and taking off his backpack. Ghost shoots a few soldiers that dared to come closer, paying half attention to the Sergeant’s work. The box was apparently full of batteries.

Soap is silent as he works, unlike the other times…

(Simon hates it)

“What’s the batteries for?” he chances a question.

Soap’s grin widens, “not just any kind, lithium batteries. Nastiest fire starter a ten-year-old has access to in a typical kitchen. Ye stab it just a wee bit, it ignites beautifully. I swear mah pa was about teh kill me when I-” he cuts himself off, seemingly remembering who he’s talking to, smile dropping. “Just need something to ignite this.” he points to a bottle he grabbed from his pack, and when Ghost takes a closer look between fights he finds it’s… Bourbon.

“You like Kentucky, Johnny?”

The Sergeant scoffs, “the only thing this shite is good fer is molotovs. Ye couldn’t pay me to drink it.”

Ghost empties his clip on a particularly brave soldier. He searches for a new one before realizing he ran out. Soap wordlessly throws him a new one.

“What would be your drink of choice then, Sergeant?”

Soap portions the Bourbon among a few empty beer bottles, “don’t see why ye should fuckin’ care.” he grunts harshly.

Right. Conversation over.

When he finishes his little “gift”, Soap shoves a bottle towards Ghost, explaining, “I punctured the coating, so any small disturbance should light that lithium right up. The alcohol is jus’ gonna make it a little more…fun.”

“Copy.” Ghost’s fingers tingle when they brush Soap’s as he passes him a bottle. The battery inside is clanking dangerously.

(If only he didn’t always wear gloves…)

Soap doesn’t waste any time, and without coordinating with Ghost, throws his bottle to the middle of the hostile group. Ghost waits for a few seconds of nothing before asking, “how long does it take to work, Sergeant?”

Turning to look at him, Ghost sees the gears turning in Johnny’s head, eyes wide before he frowns. The Sergeant grabs the now empty bottle of Bourbon and mutters to himself. Whatever he found made him furious, and he threw the bottle to the side, “it was fuckin’ bottle proof!”

“What’s that got to do with-” “means there’s not enough alcohol in that garbage to fucking ignite!” Soap cuts him off, lifting his gun to shoot down some drenched, but clearly not-on-fire, soldiers, “I can’t read this goddamn language, how should Ah know that shite is only 40%!”.

The group seemed to recognize their panic, as they start pushing forward with rising aggression. Ghost looks around, trying to find a way out, any way out-

(If it comes down to one or the other, he rather Johnny got out)

Ghost hauls a dead soldier up, springing ahead and using the corpse as a shield. “What the fuck- Ghost!” Soap shouts behind him. He ignores it.

(Not like he’ll mourn, should Simon die)

He reaches the first step, and shoves the corpse down the stairs, knocking several soldiers off their feet in a domino effect, swiftly taking them out. He glances down, finding more soldiers rushing up, as well as a few attempting to shoot from the ground.

Ghost snarls, feeling the blood rush in his ears, brandishing bullets like fangs and blades as claws.

He runs forward. When his mags ran out, he used his knives.

And when the knives were buried far too deep to pull back out, he used his hands.

Ghost is a weapon, to be picked up and discarded as needed.

And he is needed - to get Johnny out alive.

Red encircles his vision. The world reduces to the fight, to the crunch of bone under his palms, and the slick of blood beneath his boot. Ghost was born of hate and violence, yet it was always in the hands of someone else.

Always on a leash. Always controlled by foreign hands.

No more. He decides what to ravage, he decides who to tear apart.

(Simon has been buried for long enough)

Pain bursts through Ghost, the source undetermined. Could it be the poison, eating its way to his heart? Perhaps it was a frightful soldier, fruitlessly trying to survive the unsurvivable?

Or was it something deep inside him, a little boy crying while his father swings once more, no one to hear his pleas?

(Was it Simon, tearfully begging?)

(What could he be begging for?)

(What could Simon want…?)

The red fades, his surroundings returning into focus. The makeshift base is unnervingly quiet.

Ghost’s legs shake, a warning the poison is about to wreck through his system soon. Soap runs up to him, his blue eyes wide.

(Are you afraid, Johnny?)

(Please don’t be)

“Yer… what the fuck is wrong with ye?!” he asks, not with as much hate as pure surprise.

Ghost winces as his muscles start to lock up. He spots their truck, relatively undamaged in the scuffle, and starts towards him. Johnny sputters behind him, quickly shaking from his stupor to take the driver’s sit.

They sit in silence for a moment, Soap openly staring at his bloody form.

“Drive.” Ghost orders, voice softer than he intended.

Johnny follows with no complaint. Simon lets his head lean on the window, and prepares for the poison to take its course with him.

He wonders whether it’s lethal. If eventually, it will stop his cold, dead heart. He could’ve asked the communicator…

(Yet another thing Simon has fucked over)

“Why did ye kill him?” Johnny asks for the hundredth time.

Ghost answers with silence. What could he say? That he has lost his mind?

(Answering would only reveal the once dead man)

It’s starting to get on Soap’s nerves, he can tell. By the whitening knuckles, by the speeding tapping of a foot.

“Ye don’t get to sit and ignore me now, ye bawbag…”

He knows. He doesn’t deserve to sit here at all.

(No better than the Hunter, no better than Roba)

(No better than his father)

Simon was destined to be violent. A weapon, sharpened by his father. Just like his father before him. A bloodline of monsters.

He thought, if he could give away his leash, if he could get someone else to wield him-

(Ghost may be a weapon)

(Simon likes to pretend he’s the same)

Soap growls in frustration. The truck speeds up for a moment, likely an attempt from Johnny to calm down. Ghost curiously watches the emotions contort his features, glad that Soap chose to take off the mask once he started driving.

(He looks so… alive)

The Sergeant notices him from the corner of his eyes, and sharply turns his head to stare at him.

What do you see, Ghost wants to ask.

(The hero that was?)

(Or the monster that is?)

Whatever answer Johnny finds makes him wrench the breaks, the vehicle creaking loudly. Soap forcibly opens the door, slamming it shut so hard the whole truck shakes. Not a moment later, he opens the door to Ghost’s side, snarling, “out.”

He obeys.

(He’d give Johnny his leash, if he only wanted)

Ghost’s legs still shake when he walks out, but he holds himself up. Johnny is seething in front of him. He pushes at Ghost’s shoulders, “fuckin’ talk to me! Or punch me, or do something!”

Ghost just tilts his head. If the Sergeant is looking for a place to let frustrations out, so be it.

(Metal must be hit thousands of times to be made into a weapon. Simon is well acquainted with the process)

“Are ye just gonna stand there?! Say something!”

Ghost hums, “do whatever you’d like, Johnny. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Soap falters, “wha-”

“I killed him. No matter what any of us do, we won’t be able to kill the Hunter. We lost.”

He watches the anger rise within Soap, “shut up!”

(Fury looks good on him, Simon muses. Even if it is directed at him)

“Do you want to fight me, Johnny?”

The Sergeant snarls, “shut up!”

“Hit me.”

“Why do ye want-?!”

“Just do it.” Ghost takes a shaky step towards him, “punch me, kick me. Let it out. It’s my fault after all.”

“Stop-!”

“It’s my fault this city went to hell. My fault all these civilians are dead.” he stands almost chest to chest with Johnny, “it’s all my fault.”

“JUST SHUT UP!” Soap shoves him, and Ghost’s legs finally give out. He crushes to the ground with a huff. Soap is on him in seconds, taking hold of his clothes and shaking him, “WHAT DO YE WANT FROM ME?!”

It strikes Ghost, that they have not lost. There is still one way, for one of them to win.

(It should scare Simon, but he lost the fear of death a long time ago. Forgot it behind, somewhere in a shallow grave, the innate dread of the reaper)

He should be angry, that once again he’s giving away control over his fate. But for Johnny, a man that despite being betrayed over and over, that still found enough mercy not to desert him. To the man that felt the need to save others, even if it goes against all reason.

To the true hero in this city’s unfortunate tale, to a kind heart and kinder eyes?

Simon is willing to give everything.

Ghost slides a knife out, flipping it and offering the hilt to Soap. The Sergeant hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering between the weapon and his.

“You want to stop this, Johnny?” Ghost thrusts the knife into his hands, “Tell the Hunter I’m dead. That’s all they wanted, right?”

Johnny’s movements are unsure, his breath coming out in puffs.

Sitting above him, the setting sun painting his features in gold, a radiant helo peaking through his hair…

(He looks beautiful)

“All you need to do is kill me, Soap.” Ghost guides Johnny’s armed hand to his throat, lifting the dark fabric of his mask to reveal scarred skin.

“I- I don’t-” Johnny almost whispers, and Ghost wishes he could take away all doubts in his mind. Wishes he could show Johnny what he really is.

(You’re not looking at a person, love)

(I’m just a weapon)

“Kill me.” he repeats, the feeling of the cool blade soothing, for once in his life. Simon looks over Johnny one last time, swallowing all the words he yearns to speak.

(All the regrets he can’t even whisper)

Simon smiles, something small and private, when he watches Johnny raise his arm slowly, aiming to strike him down. It will be a quick death.

(Far more than he truly deserves)

And he closes his eyes, finding himself content. That for once, he chose right. He may die, but Johnny will get out of here, a hero. The man that saved an entire city. The man that took down half an army.

The man that killed the Ghost.

The knife swings down.

(Simon prays for a last time)

(That this apology was enough)

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #BLOOD||HUNGER #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #Ive been waiting to write this scene for the entire fic yall dont even know how excited i am :D #also i cant make them normal im sorry #also also the ao3 upload might take a little longer but it will be today

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polar-equinoxx · 1 year

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A fic masterlist! Finally!

And here is my ao3 account :D

Take your pick, all of these are sfw, full of fluff or angst and definitely hurt/comfort; and are rated either gen or teen^^

More detailed summaries added underneath each one and oh my god this post is so long

featuring the main two of all of these bc why the hell not

Oh and the series on ao3 is linked in the headings of each sector :)

I will be updating this whenever I write more fics, so keep watch XD

☁️The heavens told me that clouds have been grey

all of my icemav fics! So guaranteed smooches <3 none of them link to each other unless they are in a seperate series ^^

find the masterlist here! yes I made a seperate post its because there are so many of them quq

🌟Canons shoot ships but not this one

all of my fics that could fit into the canon timeline, (featuring an occasional icemav smooch cus lets be for real they did probably kiss at least once)

find the masterlist here! yes I made a seperate post for this too lmao

Long-fics (5k or above)

🍁Hot Summer Nights to Cold Winter Days (18k words, 10 chapters split between two works)

Rated Teen, with fluff and a genourous amount of angst and hurt/comfort

When Goose and his pilot were allowed to go to Top Gun, then Ice couldn’t think of anything better. Only until he’d seen Maverick and fallen head over heels in love with him. That July Saturday had changed everything, Goose had gone, and Maverick had fallen into a deep dark pit, and Ice, wanting to look out for Maverick, had dived straight in after him, unwilling to let his wingman get stuck there. Ice promised Maverick he’d go to the ends of the earth with him, and that is what he would do, even if it meant they’d both hurt.

❄️Returning to You (25k words, 15 chapters)

❄️ Letters : Epilogue (1.5k words)

Rated Teen, a lot of angst. Seriously. But a lot of hurt comfort to make up for it :,) Oh yeah, the amnesia is the cause of the angst..

In the months after Goose’s death, Maverick has been forging a deep friendship with Iceman. So deep, in fact it feels like nothing could come between them, even though he hasn’t been entirely honest about exactly how he is feeling. It’s hard to do, but it only seems to get harder when a scouting mission takes a turn for the worse.

🌷Galloping into the Cold (5k+ words, completely a wip, 3 chapters right now)

Rated Teen, angst, fluff hurt-comfort, medieval au, they ride horses.

Thomas Kazansky, nicknamed Ice for the personality that isn’t even his; feels like he’s stuck in his pampered posh life. That’s until he falls off his horse and meets Peter Mitchell and realises he might have a chance to be something other than his surname.

🌙 when the human strokes your skin, that is when you let them in (29k words, 14 chapters)

Rated Teen, angst hurt/comfort and secretive mutual pining with miscommunication sprinkled on top

Top Gun. Top Gun! Maverick had only gone and actually done it, and it would be the best five weeks of his life, for sure. If only there wasn’t a distraction with the name of Iceman. Anyway, he was so relieved that he was going to do it and win that trophy with Goose. But many things don’t go to plan.

🌹Roses (5k words, a 4+1)

Rated Teen, angst, unrequited love, a lot of valentines days, pining and eventual fluff

Nobody in Iceman’s life has meant more to him than Pete Mitchell does. He’s dangerous and annoying but incredibly cute, and Ice thinks if he looks at him one more time with that smile of his, his legs are going to give out under him. Try as he might, he can’t say anything to address the crush he has on him. // Or, the four times Ice wants to admit to Maverick that he loves him and the one time he does.

🧊Not Enough (11k words, a 5+1)

Rated teen, angst, self doubt, abusive parents, mutual pining and eventual fluff

Iceman has been told one way or another and all through his life that he's not good enough, for whatever that may be. He dreads turning out even the slightest bit like his father, and he'll do everything in his power to stop himself from becoming like him. / Or, five ways people say to Ice that he's not enough and the one time he says it.

🐎Heaven In Your Eyes (WIP, 2 chapters at 3k)

They r cowboys, no-one dies, (!?!), they ride horses, with pining, fluff and friends to lovers

Thomas Kazansky is the notorious peace-maker of the new place in Colorado the people call Durango. Pete Mitchell was supposed to be passing it on his way to California, but the small town seemed nice enough to stay for while. For some reason, their paths keep crossing, but Pete, as rebellious as he is, doesn't mind. / Or, a western icemav fic that takes place in 1886

❤️‍🩹Goose lives AU (Goose lives and there's no such thing as DADT)

❤️‍🩹Seasick (1632 words)

Rated Teen, sickfic, hurt/comfort A mission is flown, the mission is successful, but a certain Pete Maverick Mitchell is seasick. Badly.

❤️‍🩹Saved by Sickness (2037 words)

Rated Teen, sickfic, hurt/comfort, this is how Goose lives lol The thing about Iceman is that he never gets sick. Or at least he thought he didn’t. Most of the time it was just a cold. Most of the time he jut felt a little bit more tired for a couple of days, then he was back to normal. This was not one of those times, as he's about to find out.

❤️‍🩹Spur of the Moment (3788 words)

Rated Teen, with fluff, pining, Goose and Slider embarrassing both Ice and Mav, and no DADT cus who am I to do that??? Maverick is about to fall asleep standing. He's so tired that the last thing he's going to be thinking about is what comes out of his mouth. Especially if it's 'baby'. Especially if it's to his wingman. Or, Maverick calls Ice 'baby' for the first time.

🕊Angelus AU (The icemav boys are angels, but that isn't normal)

🕊Growing Pains (1494 words)

Rated Teen, patching up injuries, angst, post-argument, hurt/comfort He doesn’t know how he gets to his bathroom, but once he reaches a point that lets him lift his head up to try and see his back in the mirror, he’s immediately chucked into a pit of horror and disbelief. “Oh god-” His wings were growing. God dammit of course they had to choose tonight to start.

🕊Cold Wings (2137)

Rated Teen, patching up injuries, fluff, hurt/comfort

The good news? Ice was there. / The bad news? There was blood all over his back and he was about to collapse over the sink. / “Oh jesus christ-” Maverick says as he shuts the door behind him and goes straight over to him, dropping the towel on the floor. || Or, Ice's wings decide to appear at a very awkward time.

🌠Shooting Stars (A small series where the icemav both stargazed as kids and Maverick dated Charlie beforehand)

🌠Starboard Half Light (3104 words)

Rated Gen, with pining, and hurt/comfort

It had been such a tiring day, and so emotionally charged too, so why was Maverick still wide awake? It seemed like the only option he had left was to go see Iceman, his newly titled wingman. Hopefully he was awake. Maverick just wanted to talk to someone. Or, Maverick and Iceman talk on the starboard side of the USS Enterprise for the entire night

🌠Shooting Stars (1886 words)

Rated Teen, a lot of kissing and pining. So much kissing seriously.

Maverick has always loved stargazing, ever since he was a kid. He has also had a crush on Iceman ever since he laid eyes on him. So what better to do than go stargazing with him, right?

🌠Afterglow (1635 words)

Rated Teen, hurt/comfort obviously with mentions of guilt tripping and Mav's past relationship with Charlie

“I- I promised…” “Hey, hey… you don’t have to be s-” “Yes I do,” Maverick interrupts him. “I promised her I wouldn’t because she’d- she…” She? “Who, Mav?” Or, Maverick wakes up in the middle of the night and tries to hide the nightmare he's just had from Ice, because he knows what will happen if he tells him.

#ms tg #ms fanfics #if you're reading this then beware the long post!!!#but if you're reading this then how was the long post?#and here are the tags for all of these!#ms hsntcwd #ms rty #ms gitc #ms wthsystiwylti #ms hiye #ms angelus au #ao3 #masterlist #fic masterlist #top gun fanfiction #fanfic

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year

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Let me preface this by saying I did check your FAQ but I didn't see this there yet I still find it hard to believe no one has asked you this at least a thousand times so if they did and I just missed it I'm sorry and you can delete this ask but—

You write such beautiful, detailed fics with lots of foreshadowing that often starts from the very beginning of the story. I think you made an author note once about only posting the first chapter of a fic after you've written the whole thing (or maybe that was Andie...?). If so, is the time between updates just you going through and rereading / editing like 100k words?

Basically, I want to ask: what is your fic planning process like? From the moment you get a first idea to posting the last chapter, what does I look like? I think you're a really, really amazing (one of the absolute best if not THE best) author but I cannot fathom how one human being can write such mammoths of fanfiction and stay motivated enough to finish them.

Also you're already planning Halloween stuff ?? You plan things literally half a year in advance?? Are you even human? We don't deserve you. 😭

You called yourself lazy in the webcomic post but I think you must work unbelievably hard to make such high quality stuff and without even getting compensation for it. You're amazing and I'm very thankful to exist in the right timeline and fandom to read your work. :,)

(oh my god this became such a ramble I'm sorry)

Oh Ari. 🥺 Hello.

I update as I write! So that was probably Andie, lmao, who’s definitely the better example to follow when it comes to plotting/completing a fic. 🥺 She’s amazing and if I could fashion myself after any other writer in our niche, it would be Andie hands down!

But okay, let’s get into it. 📝

A little disclaimer, before we start; I did not go to school for any of this lmfao. The most relevant education I have behind me is a extra-circular literature class I had during my last two years of high-school. The only reason the following works for me is because I’ve cobbled it together from years of trial and error. You can read advice and watch youtube videos about the writing habits of famous authors, but you have to tailor everything you hear to suit you and the way you work. The best advice in the world from the highest paid author in the world won’t work if you’re not wired in the same way! You have to take everything about yourself and what you like and what you want into account!

Part I—first we take Manhattan

start ur fic lol

First thing’s first; I’m a plotter. I don’t pants. If I pants, I lose interest—I need to have the final vision in front of me, even if it’s just a bullet point. I have to know what I’m working towards. That is crucial to literally everything I do. Every fic you see on AO3, every WIP I’ve mentioned working on or wanting to work on—I have always known two things about them, immediately: the hook that gets us in there, and how they end.

So for fics in particular, the start might look something like—I get an idea (I want Reader and Bakugou to kiss). And then I sit there and I brainstorm to myself (What’s stopping them from kissing? Why does Reader want to kiss someone so rude when there’s so many other nice boys out there? Is Reader particularly kissable?). And then, if I’m lucky, I think of an ending (Reader and Bakugou finally kiss, but he’s the one that initiates it, because he’s always wanted to, because he likes that Reader always wears a yellow coat to work—it’s ugly and it sticks out among the black and tan ones of the crowd but he comes to associate it—and thus Reader—with routine and his mornings going well).

This is often the most fragile time of an idea. That hook (Reader and Bakugou kiss) might fall apart with a bit more prodding (why would they kiss? Reader’s a stranger to him; most of us don’t go around kissing random strangers just because we like their coats). Or maybe the hook sticks (they spend almost years in orbit around each other, a constant near-miss) but the ending doesn’t work (I don’t know how to move Bakugou to a position where he can kiss Reader, where he has the opportunity to). For every idea you see in action, or listed, there’s like three more that died during this stage and are now being cannibalised for spare parts.

Part II—running up that hill (a deal with fic)

work work work

If our idea survives, we then move to the “throw everything at the wall and see what sticks” stage; which manifests itself in this case as a doc, where I’ll just write any and all ideas I have for this little world so far.

For fanfics, it’ll generally look like—

TITLE

SUMMARY: Bakugou and Reader kiss.

(in which Bakugou first notices you because of your ugly yellow coat)

📝 Reader is allergic to diary products; for ages Bakugou thinks of her as That Cheesy Extra, because of the colour of her coat. She laughs when she eventually learns about this. (“I can’t even eat cheese,” you complain)

📝 Reader stops walking past the coffee shop Bakugou gets his coffee at, one day; moves??? Leaves the city to help a friend out for a few months. Despite himself it throws Bakugou off-kilter, and when he sees someone (not Reader) in a yellow coat during a villian attack, he momentarily loses focus—gets injured???? The news of his injury makes the news, Reader sees it in Bumblah nowhere.

📝 Her coat is donated accidentally by a roommate, in a mix up, for a charity she’s volunteering at; when Reader returns to the city, she has to make do with a new one, a more neutral colour. Bakugou recognises her anyway and that’s when he realises it was never about the coat (!!!!)

Like, this is actually a pretty good approximation of what all my current fics have looked like, at that stage, before I tidied them up and refined them into proper outlines. Because that’s what will happen next, once we have a rough idea of what we want! Things get moved, or removed—tightened. A rough plot outline takes shape! If I get any ideas for a sequel or a spin off that I might want to do, I’ll note them here (Reader’s roommate, Roomie, who’s working at a charity—eventually meets Shinsou, who’s working on a case. She thinks he’s homeless; he doesn’t realise. They carry on like this for a while.)

Once I have a rough outline (rough meaning in bulletpoints), I’ll start on my more in-depth outlines—I do these chapter by chapter! I say this a lot, but they’re basically a really rough version of said chapter. So it might look like:

Reader’s walking to work; it’s cold enough that’s she’s wearing her coat. There’s a new coffee-shop opened on the corner—it’s full, popular, you think it might be because it’s at a crossroads between two different Pro Hero agencies. Reader glances at the window, interested, but then a friend calls out and you hurry along. Bakugou, inside the coffee-shop waiting for Half and Half to get his order, is affronted; your coat is ugly as shit, and he complains loudly about it to Shouto, who mentions something about Baku. having no room to complain about ugly colour choices.

The swap between Reader/You happens a lot because I’m not using my brain properly, at this stage—I’m just shovelling the sand I need into the sandbox. Once I finish my shovelling, I go back and I rewrite it—but better, LMAO. I flesh things out, I throw things away as needed, I add things in. It’s basically really, really intensive handholding and I would not recommend it for anyone who’s already daunted by the idea of plotting; I do it because if I don’t have a chaperone there (aka my outline) then I’m prone to getting distracted. I am basically the fanfic equivalent of the undiagnosed ADHD kid at the back of the class that only gets work done when they’re sat right in front of the teacher (and even then, there’s like a 50% chance it’s not actually work that’s happening but doodles of that weird pointy S thing over and over again).

Once it’s done, though, we have a completed chapter! I then post it and wait like a little crab under some rocks for people to be tricked into being nice to me, and then I dig back in and think nice thoughts about repeating this process to get chapter two. Eventually I will—and viola! Another chapter! We repeat that over and over until we get to the end of our original outline and we have a finished story. 😌📖

Part III—you’re on your own kid

motivation

No one ever likes this part, or what I’m about to say, because at best it sounds like saccharine fodder and at worse it’s out of touch with most people’s experiences in fandom, but—the only way to stay motivated when doing a long-haul fic is that you have to do it for yourself.

People are so kind to me, about the fics I’ve done; it’s part luck and part what I choose to write and part how I write it. And I mean—I share them because I want a little bit of attention, lmao, that’s natural because we’re humans, we all want attention. But here’s the thing, here’s the secret—I take these fics 110% deadly seriously. LOL. That sounds like a joke, but I do! I do that because it’s how I’m built and how I keep myself interested in them—because taking them seriously means I’m more invested in realising the ending I’ve imagined for them since day one.

If other people stopped being so nice about what I was writing, I would be sad—anyone would. 🥺 We all want to be told that we’ve done a good job. But I’ve had the ending for the Deku fic, for example, in my head since it’s predecessor was on-going. That is literal years of knowing how I want Izuku and Scribble’s story to end. If everyone disappeared tonight I would sulk, hardcore, and then I would finish that last chapter anyway. I would finish it because I’ve spent so much time and energy working on that story that not finishing it is a disservice to the world I built around those characters and most importantly to myself. I probably wouldn’t stress as much about it, LOL, if the audience shrunk back down to just me, but I’d still do it. 🥺

I write—and try to finish—these fics because I deserve to see them finished. I want the completed tick, on ao3. I want to look at it and know that I can do it—that I can start something as simple as Bakugou hating on some rando’s yellow coat, and bring it to the finish-line where they finally come together, and see each other, without the yellow coat or through a coffee-shop window.

And this is what I mean by like, tailoring things to suit you—because I know others might be perfectly content to imagine the ending for themselves, without writing it. Or maybe they don’t want to treat fic seriously, because it’s fun escapism. Maybe disappointment that it’s not received like they thought it would be sours the whole experience of fandom for someone—there’s no right or wrong to this. I know I can write for an audience of just me because I’ve done it before. The satisfaction has always come back to the same thing—knowing I finished it, and wrapped that world up as best as I could. You have to pick and choose your poison—and then you have to run with it.

I hope that answers at least some of your questions, Ari. 🥺 Thank-you for such a thoughtful ask; for being so sweet. 🥺 You’re amazing, and I’m the thankful one—I’m glad we’re here, together. 🌷🌾✨📖

#ofmermaidstories-asks #ari do i have a tag for you? 🧐 hmMMMm #anyways i hope you have a good week and that this was at least a tiny bit helpful lmao #i should link it…. ugh i should overdo my whole masterpost tbh 😩 this is where the lazy comes in bc id rather stare at my wall tbh LMAO #first we take manhattan—then we take berlin 🎵#writing stuff

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itsthedreamon · 5 months

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Welcome to your stop for all things Unleash the Dark!

This post will answer any questions or concerns you might have regarding this little fic. It will be updated when common questions arise, or if I detect a new content warning should be added or removed. It may be called the "final draft," but it's still a draft nonetheless! Things could change!

[SYNOPSIS]

Sonic is a well-renouned hero of Mobius. Countless times he has risen against the Eggman Empire and emerged victorious, winning another peaceful day on his home planet. An easy jog, compared to the end of the world.

When a God of old breaks apart the globe, Sonic assembles old friends, and a little amnesiac, to mend it back together. The way becomes more clear with each new friend by Sonic's side, but the journey winds at night. In the darkness, people all over the world succumb to senseless frenzies. Monsters lurk in the shadows, killers, and before Sonic can join the fight, he realizes he's not the only one who's forgotten something important.

[GENRE]

Suspense, Drama, Supernatural, Character Driven

‼️ [CONTENT WARNINGS] ‼️

Please note that Sonic: UtD contains the following themes (ordered from most to least intense)

- Body Horror/Dysphoria/Dysmorphia ⚠️

- Mental Breakdown ⚠️

- Blood ⚠️

- PTSD ⚠️

- Self Sabotage (Reverse-Character Development) ⚠️

- Child Endangerment ⚠️

- Gender Dysphoria ⚠️

- Violence ⚠️

- Guns & Artillery ⚠️

- Swearing ⚠️

What you won't find:

- Major Character Death ❌

- Character Death ❌

- Bad Ending/Tragedy ❌

- Ships (Albiet one popular ship is mentioned only for plot's sake. No one is shipped together in this story) ❌

[Q&A]

What is SONIC: UNLEASH THE DARK?

This is my "love letter" to Sonic Unleashed, a 2008 mainline title. The story--at it's core--is a retelling with a few new twists and turns!

Why UNLEASH THE DARK? Dear God, why?

It's wild, I know. This was supposed to be a fun project I kept to myself, but I started to let my ego get to me, so here we are.

How often will you post chapters?

I hope to post chapters once a week. Please keep in mind I work 40+ hours a week so there may be delays. I will be taking brief 2-3 week hiatuses between acts in the story in order to keep up!

How many Acts are there?

I'm following the five act paradigm. (Four mini-hiatuses!)

What's up with the darker tone?

I like to make an impact. I tend to be a bit more serious about cause-and-effect in my storytelling. While things are going to get pretty tense, I hope the ends justify the means; I feel like there's something in the story that Sonic's character has always needed.

Why are they humans?

Honestly it doesn't make a big plot difference if they are or are not humans, I don't know why I was so compelled to write them this way but feel free to interpret them as their "the [animal]" counterparts lmao

Where are you posting this?

AO3! Info on where to find me there will be updated soon.

Please feel free to dm me any questions! My asks are open and I am also available under the same name on Instagram. I hope you like Unleash the Dark!

Please look forward to chapter 1's release on the 30th!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic unleashed #sonic world adventure #sonic unleash the dark #sonic utd

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fics-ladyshudragon · 9 months

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WIPS

Just for my own sanity, here is the list of WIPs I currently have going. If anyone is interested in a particular one, let me know. I am notoriously bad at updating, so maybe someone verbally kicking my ass will change that.

Burden (AruAni) - A retelling of AoT if Annie was never in the crystal. Chapter 1 is posted on Ao3 (and has been for a few years LOL).

TouKen Fic - A retelling of Tokyo Ghoul & TG:re if Kaneki remained human (kinda). The lovely @honeytheriot has been helping me with proofreading because I type like a toddler.

Meet the Parent (AruAni) - Specifically to finish Chapter 2, ya know, the chapter with SMUT (and the final installment of my series where they meet on a cruise ship). Also on Ao3.

Soulless Sanctuary (AoT Zombie AU) - This is what I mean about not updating! But yeah, this one needs to be written out too (and it's not just me this time).

TouKen Fic 2 - Just pure fluff and smut taking place after Chapter 125 of TG:re. Also with some baby Ichika <3

Mikasa and Annie Fic - The lost girls have a heart-to-heart. Annie is preggers, Mikasa is having a crisis. The boys don't know how to compute. This one is after Moments but before Sea of Lovers.

AruAni Fic - Getting kinky and getting us to #6 LMAO (Post-Canon Series before Moments & Sea of Lovers).

#apollogirl7 #annie leonhardt #aruani #jeankasa #touken #snk #tgre #tokyo ghoul #touka kirishima #ken kaneki #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #ao3 #fanfiction

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x-i-l-verify · 4 months

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20 Questions For Writers

Was tagged by @kuraiarcoiris and decided why not. :V

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

35. I have more on other sites, but since I've made my AO3 account, that's how many I've posted there.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

656,547. Give or take a couple thousand.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently? Dream SMP. But I also have an Inscryption WIP and a couple Kpop WIPs that I really should get back to one of these days. orz But I've written for all sorts of fandoms over the years.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

5) Its Suffering Was Real [Inscryption]

This is the one that came as the biggest shock to me when I went and looked at my kudos count in preparation for this write-up. Like, really? People like the fic where I torture the sassy robot trapped in the body of a stoat for 7k words that much??

4) A Shoulder to Lean On [Avatar: The Last Airbender]

WHERE did all these people come from, I have like 6 comments on this thing (not counting my replies)??? I mean, I'm flattered, but ??!!?!

3) Accepting Amelioration [Voltron: Legendary Defender]

I mean, it's a Voltron fic posted back when the fandom was in full swing, it doesn't really surprise me the kudos counter is considerable, though I am still surprised it got that much traction considering the fic is gen and not shippy. Am still proud I made the first daemon AU in the entire fandom, though, if this is my claim to fame, then I'm ok with that. :p

2) Temporary Shelter [Astro / VIXX]

I seriously have no freaking clue how this little self indulgent Kpop crossover fic became so popular, I really don't. I mean, Kpop crossovers are niche at the best of times, and these two groups aren't exactly the most popular Kpop fandoms on AO3 if you know what I mean. It basically started as "wouldn't it be fun if my two favorite Kpop groups were secretly friends all this time? How would I have that happen, tho?" and then snowballed from there. I, uh. I'm glad so many other people like it, ig? 0_0

1) Paved with Pawprints [My Hero Academia]

Of course it's the MHA pet AU fic. Of course. OF COURSE-

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

Absolutely. It's only fair I reply if someone takes the time to read on my work and actually give me feedback about it, wouldn't you say? Plus, like most authors, I enjoy talking about my own work, so sue me. >:p

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

I don't usually do angsty endings; I prefer happy or at least bittersweet ones. I guess by default, it has to be the fic where I slowly killed off America and China from Axis Powers Hetalia for 13k words, while the rest of the cast had already been dead for centuries at that point. So yes, the entire cast of that series was dead by the end of that fic. :))) IN MY DEFENSE, ok, I was actually trying to give them a bittersweet ending by reuniting them with all of their old friends and family by finally letting them rest after so long alone, but it still turned out really sad. TT TT It's basically my only fic where I can't go back and reread it more than once every couple of years, because I still end up a sobbing mess by the end.

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

Well, I guess that's what you define "happiest" as. The most cathartic? The one with the least amount of trauma and extreme bodily injury incurred by the characters? 🤔 I guess by the latter definition, it would Kaleidoscopic Perceptions, a very fluffy USPH college AU that I actually enjoyed writing a lot despite me not usually enjoying romance or college AUs.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, thankfully. I've gotten a couple kinda weird comments, and of course the obligatory "It's been X months since you updated were you aware?????" comments, but no outright negativity.

9. Do you write smut?

LMAO. Absolutely not.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes! I really love crossovers. I have a few common fallbacks that fit with a lot of fandoms (daemon AUs, Firefly AUs, etc.), but I also enjoy fandom-specific crossovers when I can figure out how to pull them off.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No idea. I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Just once for this Gravity Falls fic.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes. It had a few ups and downs, but it was overall a really positive experience, and I think it turned out really well!

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

idk that I have an ALL TIME favorite ship, especially since I hardly ever ship anything, but Frobin is pretty choice, I gotta say.

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

Er, none of them, hopefully? I hope that I eventually get to finish all my WIPs at some point, even if it might take me awhile. >.>; But I suppose if I had to pick ONE to abandon, I'd probably pick Written In, my D&D Inscryption crossover AU. I like the IDEA for it, but writing it out is like pulling teeth, and after the first installment where the party gets together, I don't really have a lot of ideas on where to take the plot. :/ Like I have the general overarching idea but no plot structure or anything but small disconnected story beats.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I like to think I do a pretty good job with descriptions while not bogging the story down too much with too much detail?

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh, staying motivated ig. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ if you're asking my weakness about mechanics, though, uh... exposition, I guess? Dialogue in general, sometimes.

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

If there is actual information included in the other language, then you better provide a translation. If it's just for flavor, though, have at it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

TMNT, specifically the 2003 show. It's never been posted anywhere on the internet and never will. :)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Becoming Real, a Kpop fanfic based on VIXX's Voodoo Doll MV. However, it can easily stand on its own as its own original work. I consider it the most accessible story I've ever written, and it also was just very easy for me to write. Writing is often like pulling teeth for me, but not this story.

Tagging: @breezy-cheezy, @quicktothebatjalopy, @hiding-in-the-vault, @variablememory, @bleue-flora, @theriu

#tag meme #xi yammers #fanfic

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iibonniee · 6 months

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happy november 1st everyone! i cannot believe kinktober is done! i remember when i first made the teaser post, and now i'm sitting here realizing that i just posted a 7k word smut (ao3 tells me all of those smuts were 33k words combined LMAO). let me just say - wow. i cannot believe through work and college, i managed that.

thank you all so fucking much for the support. it, indeed, was the reason to keep me going. you all are gems, seriously. i have not laughed as hard reading your tags on your reblogs (i actually get super excited to read them, haha). as an author who's pretty much focusing on a group that's on hiatus, sometimes it's a bit difficult for people to even want to keep in the loop for them, especially when it comes to fics, so i truly hope that those stories and the ones that will be posted in the future help keep you loving them as much as i do.

since we are finally in november i just want to remind everyone that since i just wrote absolute sin back to back, i'd love to get back into writing tooth-rotting fluff and heartbreaking angst, as well as continuing to push through and update a bunch of forgotten series. the more stories i can get out, the more room i can clear up to open requests fully.

again, thank you all so much for the support it will never ever go unrecognized. i hope these stories will keep you company until they return back to us.

i love you all!

#bonnies updates

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izukuwus · 1 year

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Edible Arrangements: Twenty-Sixth Bite: Vampire Kitten

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: YEAH BITCHES I LIED A BIT updates will be every other sunday if I can stay on a schedule because I like it more than Monday updates even if it would've been neater dates this month. Here's where shit gets high stakes (trying to update on a schedule but also I don't have three chapters banked in advance to update with lmao). Let's see if I can actually make it happen!

Chapter Summary: You and Izuku acclimate Sbeve to the house. The day of presenting finally arrives, and then you work on your OTHER group project.

Warnings: blood and biting and vampire things

Word Count: ~4300

"So, you're positive." Izuku's eyes dart to you, knuckles whitening rhythmically on the steering wheel as he takes in your little theory. Sbeve is silent in his crate. It's funny how much like a cat he isn't.

"Absolutely."

"What makes you think he's a vampire?"

"Teeth," you say, "and reflection. He fails the old mirror test outright. Besides that, he doesn't come for food, and he literally is infamous for biting his handlers. It’s not like he can survive on nothing. And then he sets off my bite marks.”

Izuku opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. "Fair point. But how are we going to feed him?"

"He can hunt. Or we can feed him the way I feed you."

He cringes. "Are you sure? The ankle isn't exactly the best place to be sacrificing for someone’s meals. It'd be uncomfortable, and I don't want you giving up all your blood to vampires."

"I think it'd be fine."

He's quiet for a bit. "Maybe not all the time. I'll work something out so we have something proper to feed him, too."

"Oh, so it's good enough for you, but I'm not good enough for Sbeve?" You cross your arms. "Rude."

"N-no! That's not what I meant! He's just… I'm worried about you being fed on by multiple vampires at once. What if it's making it harder for you to break out of the thrall, that you keep coming into contact with vampires?"

You shrug. "I don't think that's the case. I mean, it kinda feels like it's getting weaker, and you've been feeding on me for a while now."

"There's just too many possibilities. I mean, we already know so little about vampires as it is, and some of the information even seems to contradict itself. Repeated contact with vampires could be strengthening the thrall, but also, contact with unrelated vampires may be actually causing it to weaken… And then there's the attack, and how your mark reacted…"

"Hands on the wheel, Broccula," you say with a giggle, thumping his shoulder, "and eyes on the road. Let's make it home, and then you can think out loud all you want about this cat and the other thing."

He smiles, re-focusing his attention. "Sorry. Yeah, let's get home."

When you arrive home, you find little difficulty in introducing Sbeve to the house. The front door’s secure, the doors to the other rooms are closed for now, and you and Izuku crouch on either side of the crate.

Izuku does the honors, swinging the crate door open and waiting for Sbeve to come out to investigate. His first steps onto the carpet are slow and tentative, and before he gets very far, he turns around and blinks at both of you in turn.

Briefly, you wonder when the last time he bit someone was. He pads up to you, nosing at your blistered hand and giving you two tentative licks.

"Are you thirsty, baby?" you coo at him, turning your hand over to run a thumb over Sbeve's cheek. He purrs into it, continuing to sniff at your palm. "You don't really act much like a cat, do you?"

You offer him your other hand, the one not covered in bandages.

He sniffs that one, too…

And bites it.

His teeth pierce your skin easily, and you will yourself as best you can not to flinch. Izuku moves, but you shoot him a meaningful look at Sbeve drinks his fill. When he's done, he presses a rough tongue to your bleeding finger and purrs as he turns back around to explore the house.

"I told you," you say as Izuku finds the first aid kit to bandage up your finger, "vampire kitten."

"You're ridiculous," he says. Despite his words, a smile rests on his lips.

If you're being totally honest, the prospect of giving this presentation after everything that's happened is less than appealing to you. More so by the fact that you feel totally blindsided by the presentation date actually arriving—trauma and Halloween and kittens overwrite all your thought processes until something like a film class presentation feels so unbelievably stupid in comparison. Who gives a shit about presenting? Tenya could be dead right now, your arm looks like you've been paid to be the test dummy for a SFX makeup artist, and you’ve got a kitten at home who might miss you.

But the presentation day comes, and Hitoshi shows up on time with an easy, tired smile on his face, and asks how you've been doing like he doesn't know what your past few weeks have been like. You give him one of those non-committal non-answers that people give when their response isn't what anyone wants to hear, and he accepts it with that look you give people when you want them to know that you hear what they're really saying, and you leave it at that.

When your group's turn comes up, you take your place at the computer to run the slides, let Hitoshi run his racket, then switch seamlessly. You're not a fan of standing up in front of everyone, not on the first day Izuku has recommended you leave your arm unbandaged, but you swallow down the feeling and follow through on your bit of unraveling Yagi Toshinori's life. By the end of it, as you're both answering the begrudging questions offered up by students who don't really want to care but who are being graded on whether they ask questions, you've almost managed to detach yourself from who the man you're talking about was.

Almost, however, is never quite the same as good enough.

Though you receive ambiguous praise from your professor when the two of you take your seats, you have a bad, near-metallic, taste in your mouth between the thought of Izuku's dad and the pain and discomfort that comes with your arm being visible and in the state it's in. As the next group sets up, Hitoshi leans over to speak to you.

"How's your arm feel?"

"Stiff," you grumble back, "and thoroughly gawked at. Good job on your part, though."

He nods back. "You too." He shifts a little in his seat, fidgets with something on his bag. Eventually, you can't ignore the sense that perhaps there's words in his mouth, waiting to be said.

"Did you want to say something?" you whisper.

He shakes his head. In this classroom, where the lights are dimmed to let the projector shine, he gives off a faint glow.

Two hours of sitting in variably-lit classrooms and staring at people’s under-designed PowerPoint slides can’t be over soon enough. The sunlight afterwards is a welcome hug, even with the November cold wrapping around you. You cut across the quad at a leisurely pace, reveling in the feel of the cold air on your arm.

And then, across the quad, you spot Tenya, and the energy whipping up in you from finally being able to move around in the fresh air has you breaking into a run to catch up with him. You’ve barely seen him since he left Izuku’s care.

Your heart sinks a little once you're close enough to really see him. It's almost funny, in a sick sort of way, the way both of you sport matching burns winding around your arms. He's come to the same conclusion as you—long sleeves hurt worse than the looks you receive with the short ones. You’d compensated with a tank top and a zip hoodie, worn open and with only one sleeve actually on. Tenya seems to have opted instead for short sleeves. You imagine neither of you are fully comfortable, regardless.

"Tenya," you say between labored breaths as you finally catch up to him. "I didn't expect to see you here."

He looks you over, mouth slightly agape as his eyes roam over your own exposed burns. They've become quite the sight—in many ways, it looks worse than when it happened, colors all dark and pestilent on your skin, and it certainly draws some unwanted attention. From Tenya, though, despite the way his gaze makes your skin itch, you don't mind the looks. It's not like you're not looking over his arm in turn.

"How are you holding up?" he asks.

"Oh, you know." You throw your free arm behind your head, rubbing the back of your neck. Textures feel so weird beneath your fingertips now. "I'm keeping with the routine Izuku prescribed, but he insisted the bandages come off today, and I'm not liking the looks I'm getting."

He drags his eyes away, a frown on his face. "I apologize."

"Oh, no, you don't need to worry. I know you're not, like, gawking at me. You're about the only person I can stand looking at my arm at this point, actually. Well, you and the doctor, obviously."

If he realizes you mean Izuku, he seems to appreciate that you chose to obscure that fact as he slows his pace to walk alongside you.

"Are you healing alright? I know it hurts. The pain's been excruciating for me."

He nods. "Your landlord sent me home with a list and some medication to keep my own burns on track. The healing process has been exhausting, but I'm glad to be back in classes, at least."

You hum, nodding along. Your brows draw together as you form your next sentence. "You don't have classes right now, do you? I'm done for the day. I thought we could eat together, if you're okay with it. See how we're holding up, spend some time together again."

There's that smile. He seems so much younger whenever he smiles at you, the same way he always has, ever since…

Well, that's not important.

His text tone sounds from his hand, and he glances down at whatever notification. Your own phone isn't buzzing, so you can assume it's not the group chat. His eyes scan the screen, and another text tone chimes as they do. Tenya's face darkens, and he shoves his phone in his pocket roughly.

"Sorry, [name]," he says. "Something's come up."

"Oh." Your face falls. You cast your eyes to your hands, clasped in front of you as they are. "Hey, no worries." A faint glow envelops you as you speak, and not for the first time, you’re glad this quirk belongs to you and no one else.

A heavy arm pulls you close, a gentle, awkward hug that carefully avoids rubbing either of your burns in the process. When Tenya pulls back, he has a forced smile on his face. "I'll see whether I have time tomorrow, alright? I'll text you."

As he leaves you to head home by yourself, your only comfort is that he isn't glowing.

Mina has added Tenya to the group text '[name] protection squad'.

Unknown Number to NPS at 10:58AM

Unknown Number: Tenya, this is Izuku. I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but this is really important. Hitoshi ([name]'s friend from class that's also a vampire) and I have been working really hard, but we could use your help. Mina and Tsuyu are helping as well.

Unknown Number 2: This is Hitoshi. I'll make it quick. We know that [name]'s enthrallment involves you, somehow, and we want to lift it.

Tenya has left the group text '[name] protection squad'.

Tsuyu: well.

Tsuyu: that didn't work.

Tsuyu: let me try talking to him.

Tsuyu to Tenya at 11:14 AM

Tsuyu: hey.

Tenya is typing…

Tenya to Tsuyu at 11:32AM

Tenya: What do you need?

Tsuyu: I think you know already.

Tsuyu: why did you leave the group chat we added you to?

Tenya: I don't intend to get involved with any of that.

Tsuyu: why not?

Tsuyu: I don't want to force you, but…

Tsuyu: Izuku and Hitoshi seem to think you'd be a really big help to [name]

Tenya: It can't be done. I spent years trying.

Tsuyu: I know it hurts, but I think you should hear them out.

Tsuyu: maybe tell them what you tried that didn't work, if you don't want to be directly involved?

Tsuyu: I know you care about [name]. we all do.

Tsuyu: and I for one miss the version of my friend who acted like their full self

Tenya: Truthfully, I don't see a point to any of this.

Tenya: As I said, this isn't something that can be fixed.

Tsuyu: the least you can do is hear them out.

Tsuyu: we’d all like to try, even if you won’t.

Tenya: …

Tsuyu added Tenya to the group text '[name] protection squad'.

Tenya to [name] protection squad at 12:57 PM

Tenya: Let me make this clear.

Tenya: What you are trying to do can't be done.

Tenya: I have tried for years to get them back after the enthrallment.

Tenya: Even if you were to lift the enthrallment, the memories they've lost aren't likely to return after being gone for two years.

Izuku: I'd still like to try.

Mina: ^

Tsuyu: ^

Hitoshi: ^

Tenya: Maybe it isn't as painful for the rest of you, but if it's all the same, I don't want to be involved.

Tenya: I've tried reverse-enthralling them. I've reminded them of what they've forgotten. I died and returned and it didn't fix them. They were shot with holy water right on the mark and they don't remember a thing.

Tenya: The only thing I can think of would be to let me die fully, but there would be no point.

Tenya: They would remember me and our past, and I would be too dead to remember with them.

Hitoshi: I don't think their memories are gone entirely.

Hitoshi: the way they talk sometimes, it's clear they're remembering things that they then can't seem to hold onto.

Izuku: They’ll start talking, say something “off”, and then halfway through, they lose their sentence and refuse to entertain the thought of what they had been saying.

Izuku: The memories are there, they just can't look at them directly.

Tenya: …you'll get some information from me. A list detailing what I’ve tried, and the basics of what they've forgotten. That's all.

Tenya: I can't take part in trying to save them anymore. I don’t have the mental fortitude for that.

Hitoshi: alright

Hitoshi: we're listening.

Each meeting with Neito brings you a new companion to work with. Mina had been first, then began the revolving door: Tsuyu for the next meeting, Hitoshi for the one after that. Then, again, Mina. It’s really a torturous amount of work for two people to complete in such a short timeframe, necessitating digging through plenty of heavy texts that repeatedly have your eyes glazing over and dissecting winding, un-edited tangles no self-respecting writer would call a “paragraph”, all to glean the very beginning of an idea that you’ll inevitably find no use for when it comes to actually writing the paper.

Twice a week, you’ve scheduled to slog through the dullest readings you’ve ever laid eyes on in hopes of outlining the life and ideas of some long-dead Greek man who never even could have conceived of the world you now live in. And now, on the fourth session, you drop your forehead onto your laptop keyboard with a frustrated groan.

Hitoshi’s sat next to you, working on his own studying, occasionally glancing up from his work to make sure Neito hasn’t attempted murder in the past some minutes.

He pretends not to look disappointed when, once again, he proves that he hasn’t.

Neito looks up from his own laptop, blinking the glaze from his eyes. “Having fun yet?”

“I hate philosophy,” you grumble back. “Why should some guy who died before the world as we know it could ever have existed be the one we look to to decide what’s ‘moral’?”

“You say that word like it’s dirty.”

“What?”

“’Moral’. You act like it’s some made-up concept.”

“Everything’s made up, Junior Socrates. Especially concepts that rely on the ideas of men whose brains would implode the moment they were forced to contemplate a lightbulb.”

“And yet, it’s necessary to create an understanding of where the field is now.”

“And why do I need to know that? What purpose does studying these men serve?” You arch a dangerous eyebrow his way. He’s probably going to say some bullshit about how they were foundational to the study, as though foundations never need to be rebuilt or renewed, as though every foundation is a permanent part of existence—

“To get a passing grade and be taken seriously when you argue with people.”

Heavens above, he actually didn’t say the usual bullshit.

“Okay, fine, you get the faintest idea of respect from me.” You lift your head off your keyboard, position yourself for a healthy helping of CTRL + Z to undo the wise words of wisdom your forehead added to your notes document.

“Maybe if you’re getting this dead-headed over it, we should take a break.”

“And what do you propose?” you say, voice dry.

Hitoshi doesn’t look up from his own laptop. “Have you had any weird dreams lately that felt like memories?”

You open your mouth, close it, then open it again, a strangled laugh leaving your throat. “What?”

“There’s not really an easy way to work around the question. I’m asking about whether you think the attack jogged anything loose from your enthrallment.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I can’t really think directly at that stuff. Why? Not like it’s—“ You catch yourself before the last word leaves you. Important. “It’s all stuff that just gets passed off as unimportant. Water off a duck, memories off my brain.”

“The edges, then,” Neito mumbles.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing important.”

You ignore the glow, dropping your head next to the laptop this time. “I’ll accept that break now.”

Neito to [name] protection squad at 11:47 AM

Neito: So, strategy: we need to tackle the edges of the enthrallment.

Neito: Think of it like a really, really well-adhered sticker.

Hitoshi: what’s the ‘edge’ of a memory wipe and replacement?

Neito: Depends on what all they lost, I’d guess. Is Tenya still preparing the document?

Tenya: It takes time. It’s not just a statement of facts for me.

Tenya: You’ll get it soon. Just… give me time.

Neito: We should still try the other methods, but I think it would be useful to figure out where their replaced memories are at their weakest and try to pry at those.

Izuku: In other words, try to get them to keep their mind on it for as long as we can?

Neito: More or less exactly. Which means we need to start probing them for information.

Neito: in the meantime, now that I’ve seen how they react to holy water, I do have several theories on things that could possibly lift the thrall.

Izuku: We can give it a shot, but it seems… risky. I mean, they start getting agitated about it pretty quickly once they get onto the topic of things within the scope of the thrall, and they’re not exactly in on this at this point, so perhaps it’s better for us to tread lightly when it comes to pressing on weak memories? And how would we go about figuring out which memories are weak? Even knowing what’s real and what’s fake doesn’t guarantee that we’ll be able to find the “edges” of their thrall to pick at. Unless…

Izuku: Maybe it has to do with how quickly they change the subject? Maybe the stronger the thrall is over a particular memory, the more likely it is that they immediately get frustrated and change the subject, rather than talk about it for a little bit first. And occasionally they do say things and then get confused about what they were saying. Maybe when they get onto a topic like that, we should press it?

Izuku: There’s just too much information we don’t have when it comes to enthrallment.

Mina: woah dude

Mina: that’s a lot of words, but I think I get it!

Tsuyu: so we just need to start paying attention to how quickly [name] decides they don’t want to talk about something?

Izuku: Yeah! Exactly!

Hitoshi: alright. then we should probably keep some kind of notes on what they respond to to make sure that we’re on the same page. it might be better if we take an organized approach

Neito: Except they’ll certainly notice if we all start talking about one particular thing they ALMOST remember separately of each other.

Izuku: Hmm. Would it be bad if they knew we were trying to lift it? I mean, it’s [name]. I’m pretty sure no one wants them to be their forgotten self more than they do.

Tsuyu: I don’t know if YOU really want [name] to be that person again honestly

Mina: yeah. I mean… the [name] that [name] forgot was…

Izuku: ?

Tsuyu: I’m not trying to put you off of it

Tsuyu: but I’m just saying, it might suck. They had a boyfriend, after all. And they were pretty close right up until the moment their memories were rewritten.

Mina: no problems between them or anything, and [name] would have told me

Izuku: right…

Izuku: We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, alright? That’s all questions that can be dealt with when [name] gets their memories back

Tsuyu: as long as you’re sure.

Izuku greets you when you come home. Every day, he does. But today, it’s just Sbeve, barreling down a staircase too large for his diminutive size and meowing the whole way down. You scoop him up, put a little kiss on top of his little head. He’s grown so affectionate in just about a week.

“Hey Sbeve. Where’s ‘Zuku?”

A tiny meow in response.

“Are you gonna stay this small forever?” you coo, cuddling the cat to your chest as you begin peeking in various rooms throughout the house. Where is Izuku?

Not in the kitchen. No response from the basement, which you’ve yet to have any interest in venturing into. You don’t see him in the backyard, or the library, or either bedroom. You frown as you wander back into the hall.

Sbeve meows again as you pass the secret room’s hall door.

“What’s that, Sbeve?”

Another meow. You glance at the door, see the sliver of light beneath, the way the door is cracked just slightly open. Just enough for Sbeve to have slipped out to greet you.

“Ohh. Thank you, baby!”

But then, you hesitate. As good of a cat as Sbeve is, patiently curled up in your arms while you carry him around two floors and baby him despite the fact that he could be anywhere from a few weeks to a hundred years old with no way of knowing, as much as you don’t want to waste his attentive meowing, that room is…

Sbeve looks up at you. You exhale, peek in. You’ll just see what kind of mood he’s in first, make sure it’s nothing you need to worry about. Maybe he’s just working, just likes the space.

Izuku sits inside, desk lamp casting him in a silhouette as he leans back in his computer chair, an arm over his face, lips moving almost silently as he mutters to himself. You can’t catch the words, though you’re sure they’re there, what little pauses between them betraying a frown. And then, you notice he’s glowing.

Lying to himself. Imagine that.

Curiosity burns within you. If you trusted yourself to be stealthy, if you didn't have the suspicion that the vampirism had improved his hearing, you'd try to sneak in, hear a little better. But for now, all you can do is watch and consider your approach. Like this, despite the knowledge that the halo around his form comes from the fact that whatever he's saying to himself is all lies, however small, you can't help but appreciate just how pretty he is. The lighting, too, accentuates him, casts shadows over his muscles and neck that have you swallowing harshly.

Nevertheless, you should say something.

“’Zuku?”

He lets out a squawk, arms flailing as the chair goes out from underneath him. He hits the ground hard, but you don't hear any crunching or anything indicating he's hurt himself, just a quiet 'oof' and a clatter as he and the chair both hit the floor. Another thing, a growl, tears from his throat in the moment before he realizes who's startled him so, and then he's looking up at you from across the room, mouth slightly agape, cheeks red. "[n-name]! Welcome home! I didn't hear you come in, I'm sorry!"

You shake your head, a little smirk finding your lips as you cross the room and offer your free hand to him. His hand in yours, and you pull him up, a curious tilt of the head aimed his way. "No worries. Is everything okay?"

This close, you can see the tears in the corners of his eyes. You don't think he's been crying, not as such, given the lack of tear tracks and the clarity of his voice, but he may have been about to. That, or his eyes started watering from the force of suddenly hitting the floor. "Y-yeah! I'm fine. The chair's okay, too. I think."

You laugh, shake your head again. "I'm not worried about the chair. You seemed pretty lost in thought, there. I was wondering if something was wrong."

He waves it off immediately. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"You're lying," you say automatically, then pull an awkward smile to soften the blow. "Sorry, I just mean… Well, you know. You can’t lie to me.”

Izuku pulls a weak smile, one that has your heart cracking just a little. “I’m not really up for talking about it. I’m sorry.”

That, at least, is truth enough. You take it for what it is.

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