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adudelolwriting · 10 days

Note

true hate's kiss for chodark mayhaps????? please????? i think it'd be hilarious?????

-✨

oh my GODS this one started kicking my ass at the end . its OKAYYY i dont think its the best but whatever they cant all be winners am i right chat (sitcom laughing) . anyways here you go sparkle anon, hope you enjoy !! (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Dark had a curse.

Chosen knew this — the curse was to take Chosen's life. Chosen knew the risk of saving Dark, and then helping her. Chosen knew that, one day, the curse, the mission code, would act up, and Chosen would have to fight.

So, the two fought. Dark always apologized once she snapped out of it (typically after getting the shit knocked out of her), and Chosen always was there to help dress her wounds.

But… as the years went on, and as they retired, or settled down, or whatever you called it, Dark just got more and more antsy. Secretive.

Dark revealed his plan on a regular Wednesday afternoon. "We can take revenge, Chosen! We can finally make Him hurt, like He hurt you!"

"...No. You don't want this, Dark. I don't want this."

"But I did this for you! We can attack the Cursor that hurt you!" Dark gestured to the massive laser machine in front of her.

Chosen shook Chosen's head. "No. We're done with this, with hurting sticks, remember? We agreed."

"But He's not a stick!"

"No." Chosen's arms crossed, and Dark looked pissed. "I did this for you!" He repeated, and then he dove for the button. Chosen leaped to him, grabbing him and pulling him away from the button. The two fought, anger burning through Chosen.

How dare she, try and do this? Who does she think she is, trying to do this to them?

Dark wiggled out of Chosen's grasp, and hit the button. What looked like a nuke launched into the sky, breaking through the Outernet's sky and into an IP — One that Chosen knew too well. Before Chosen could think properly, Chosen blasted Dark through the wall in the house, and flew after the bomb.

Chosen had to spend a few days on Alan's PC. The… Virabots hurt Chosen — much more than Chosen thought they could have. Deep, long wounds were littered on Chosen's body, and something was preventing Chosen from healing as quickly as Chosen should.

Alan had some new sticks, apparently. Another hollowhead, named The Second Coming (of Chosen?), and a few regular sticks that looked like they came from Stick City, but more brighter. Noogai3 didn't tell them anything, because of course He wouldn't, but after just one look from Second, Noogai caved and told them everything.

Chosen has been spending most of Chosen's time in a weird, strangely blocky house on the PC. Noogia couldn't see Chosen from the inside, so it was better, even if He promised not to hurt Chosen and had apologized to Chosen.

But the thing was, Noogia shouldn't have to apologize, because He should have never done that to Chosen. The stick was bitter and spiteful towards the cursor. Chosen hated him. But there were also sticks here.

(Innocent sticks that nearly died because of Dark's revenge. Revenge Chosen never wanted.)

Chosen wasn't healing.

Yes, the bleeding stopped, but the wounds themselves would not heal. Blue, who was apparently the second oldest behind Second aerself, had put an IV into Chosen's arm as Chosen's presents turned the first level of this building into a makeshift infirmary. The kid explained that it's from a game, and it's supposed to help healing.

Chosen was grateful for these children helping Chosen. Tensions seemed tense — Chosen hopes it wasn't always like this, but who knows with Noogia.

The past few days, they talked to Chosen. A lot. It seems they've never been off the PC before, and were curious about Chosen's life. Chosen willingly told them the non criminal things, mostly what Chosen did in retirement.

Currently, Chosen was chatting to Blue, who was checking on Chosen's wounds, when a loud crash came from outside of the building. Chosen flinched — Chosen still wasn't used to all the noise the kids made — before screams rang through the room. Both Chosen and Blue froze.

Blue rushed out, telling Chosen to stay where Chosen was. Rolling Chosen's eyes, the IV gets ripped out of Chosen's arm (Ow.) before Chosen walks out of the building.

"Dark?!" Chosen shouted, seeing the bright red stick flying in the air with flames surrounding her fists. "What the fuck?"

Dark, upon seeing the stick figure, dropped to the ground, charging at Chosen. Chosen let out an "oomph", unable to defend against Dark's attacks. Dark never really hurt Chosen before — not physically, not leaving welts or cuts or bruises. But the Virabots left every cut and scratch and scar on Chosen's body.

The kids screamed in the background, trying to pull Dark off of Chosen, but it was no use. Dark was cursed.

Dark was cursed, and Chosen was tired. Chosen was just able to keep Chosen's arms up, shielding Chosen's face. After a moment of debate, Chosen grabbed Dark's face. It startled her, as her face was pulled down, and Chosen kissed her. "I'm sorry," Chosen muttered, and Dark stayed still, frozen. "I'm sorry that I could never help you."

"I… what?" Dark asked, blinking his eyes. They… they were normal again. Not full of ones or zeros that overtook his eyes when the mission code took over his body. "Why…" Dark's voice trailed off, a hand reaching to his lips.

#adude.writes #adude.requests #sparkle anon #animator vs animation #the dark lord #the chosen one #blue ava #kinda? pretty brief #noogia3 (mentioned once again)#chodark #shipfic #injuries #AHHH i hope this is okay . its like 4am rn and i dont have the energy to reread/edit it so #fuck i was gonna queue this for the morning but i accidently posted it early #oh well ill queue a morning reblog here + main acc

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fanfictionisusuallylife · 4 months

Text

you're not saying you're in love with me (but you're going to)

❤ ao3 link in replies ❤

ship: kageyama tobio/hinata shoyo

words: 2,173

tags: Present Meets Future, Prophetic Dreams, New Year's Day

summary:

Shoyo meets a version of himself that has yet to come, and has a lot of questions.

---

“Wanna meet me at the shrine?” Shoyo types, as he watches the sun rise on New Year’s morning. It’s orange and a little foggy, and he’s bundled in blankets upon blankets to resist against the January chill. He doesn’t expect a reply immediately - Tobio doesn’t usually bother with the sunrise - but he gets one, the signature beep-beep-bzzz quietly interrupting his peace.

“Sure,” Tobio responds. He’s always been a dry texter, but this on its own makes Shoyo smile; he has only just started joining Shoyo on his suggested outings, after spending years of refusing on principle. Third year came with changes, Shoyo knew that, but his favourite was finally being closer to his - his - setter.

They walk together, the air still cold, Shoyo breathing out puffs of condensation. He remembers being young, only eight or so, pretending to be a dragon for his baby sister - he takes a hefty breath just to recreate that moment, and swears he sees a smile on Tobio’s lips.

Tobio is so beautiful. He’s tall, even with the inches Shoyo has gained - his skin is pale, with a yellowish tint. It seems as if his skin is preparing itself for a tan, but it hasn’t got one, like olives waiting for summer to ripen or sand waiting to be washed over by the waves. His hair is black, inky black, cut short so it doesn’t fall in his eyes anymore - Shoyo misses when it was longer, when his fringe brushed the bridge of his nose and the strands would flutter when he jumped. Staring at them made Shoyo feel fuzzy inside. Back then, he didn’t understand why.

Long fingers poke out of his sleeves - how on Earth did he manage to find a sweatshirt too big for him? - reminding Shoyo of the old white hoodie Tobio gave him back in first year. He’d grown out of it, he claimed, and Shoyo looked cold, and don’t read into it because that’s all there is - and Shoyo didn’t read into it, as he slept in it every night, wishing it still smelled like him.

This time next year, they’ll be on opposite sides of the world. Tobio’s managed to get himself picked up by the V-league fresh out of high school, because of course he has, and he’s got a guaranteed place with the Schweiden Adlers. Shoyo hasn’t been so lucky. His fate rests somewhere in Brazil, a trip set up by a family friend, where he’ll practise his jumps on sand instead of solid ground. Sometimes, the other side of the net felt like they were continents away, but Shoyo has come to realise that this is going to be more than the ache of his hands against the ball. It’s going to be total abandonment.

The shrine is busy. They’re lucky they got there as early as they did, but even with their haste it’s packed - people, couples, families swarm the grounds. Young women are here, holding hands with their lover, looking up at him with adoring eyes - Shoyo’s tummy can’t help but turn at the sight.

Tobio closes his eyes to make his wish. His eyelashes are so long, so dark, stark and contrasting against his pale skin. He looks peaceful, like a statue, like a petrified angel, like a hero carved in stone. Shoyo feels his heart sink into his chest, and himself fall deeper and deeper in love. He wants to tell Tobio, wants to tell everyone, wants to scream it from the rafters and yell it from the balconies and let the whole world know how he feels - but he’s not going to. Not yet.

His resolve hardens as he stares, like he has for years, at Tobio’s sloping nose and high cheekbones. This year, just this once, he’ll be selfish.

As long as he can remember, all those memories past, he’s wished for other people’s, his loved ones’, prosperity. Since the first time he did this, this old tradition from generations ago, he’s asked for his sister to grow up happy. Two years ago, he begged for his mother’s health to improve. Last year, he told the universe that he needed Tobio to grow into the man he always wanted to be. This time he changes his tune.

"I need to know how all this ends,” he prays to whoever is listening, silent but passionate, despairing but eternally hopeful. He wants the confusion and the fear to stop. He wants to know that the risk that he’s taking, moving away and leaving the man he’s sure is his soulmate, is all worth it. He needs - before he needs health before safety before riches - he needs certainty that this decision is the right one.

When his eyes open, Tobio is staring at him. His wish must’ve been much briefer than Shoyo’s - he assumes it must be something like, “please give me extra time to play volleyball. Thanks.”

He waits for Shoyo to finish, and they leave together, hands interlinked and buried in Tobio’s pocket.

They don’t talk about their wishes.

Sometimes they touch each other in ways they touch nobody else. They hold hands, sometimes, when Shoyo drags Tobio along - they linger in hugs and, once or twice, they've shared kisses.

They never talk about those touches.

It's a situationship, more than anything. They kiss sometimes, to relieve tension, but they aren't together - people who are together talk about the kisses, why they happen, when they want them. For Shoyo and Tobio, they might as well be secrets.

When they get this close, it’s just a transaction, and Shoyo tells himself that he’s content with that. Shoyo tells himself that there’s nothing more to it.

Shoyo lies.

His bed sheets are clean, dry, warm from his body heat. Stretching himself out, Shoyo yawns, his eyelids heavy, and pats over the left side of his bed. There’s a human-sized space under the blanket there that’s never been filled; he’s saving it for someone.

He doesn't feel the peace wash over him, like he thought he would. He's not instantly comforted, believing in the future or cosy in the uncertainty. He's the same as always, the same dusting of freckles on his nose and the same stuffy bedroom and the same longing ache that never seems to leave. He’s the same as always; he wonders if this is the result of his New Year’s Wish.

Shoyo isn’t sure when he drifts off, into his usual fervent sleep, his legs starfishing out underneath him, but he soon works out that he’s dreaming.

The walls around him are almost unseeable, sterile white and concrete. Leather seats, black and uncomfortable, sit in rows that never seem big enough, and the sounds of jet engines and chatter and tannoy systems fills the air. Before he deciphers where he is - an airport, he assumes, but he’s never quite sure which one - he sees the crowds, hundreds or even thousands of people rushing from one end of the lobby to the next, pushing through strangers and paying unimaginable costs for duty-free snacks. There are people in heavy trenchcoats, briefcases by their sides, checking their watches like a ritual - and families of five or maybe bigger all huddled in circles, sharing body heat and flight details.

Shoyo doesn’t know these faces; he knows he's seen them all before, and that he’ll never see them again. They're strangers, as they always have been; people he's passed in the street, shop clerks and train passengers.

When he sees himself, he has dainty hands. His wrists are small, and his legs are skinny - he's twelve, in his old favourite t-shirt. It doesn't fit anymore - bulking up will do that - but he kept it for the memories; he never thought he'd see himself in it again.

One of the strangers walks up to him, and he's familiar - he knew this stranger once, or perhaps he has yet to know him.

The stranger isn't much taller than he is - he's got a broad chest, tanned skin, brown eyes. He smiles and there's something in his grin that feels embedded in Shoyo’s past. His hair is short, but it's clearly been a while since it was last cut - it gets in his eyes slightly, sweeping over his freckled ears and curling loosely at the base of his neck. His hair is unmistakable - it's hair Shoyo knows as well as his own, sees in the reflections of puddles and storefronts. Shoyo knows for certain that this hair is his, and yet the man in front of him - bulky arms, thick thighs - is someone he has never met. He knows Shoyo, though, and such a thing is evidenced in the crinkles by his eyes.

“...what will happen?” he asks the stranger. He has a feeling he knows, better than anyone - he’s certain that this is his one chance to know the truth. “How will it all end?”

“It won’t be easy,” confesses the stranger, who isn’t a stranger at all. “You feel… like you might just break. You'll go about your routine - one foot in front of the other. You'll jump high and you'll make stupid jokes and start stupid fights. It won’t feel any different, for a while.”

And then the stranger - the friend, really - says something Shoyo knows.

“You can fly even higher."

"I know," Shoyo responds - Tobio told him that in first year, and he internalised it, wore it as both an achievement and a challenge. He remembers that day, hearing those words, and longing to fall into Tobio's arms. "But will I?"

Three little words. How much of his life, the friend wonders, has been ruled by the strife of these words. It’s three tiny words, but it makes the friend falter - he sees insecurity, strife, the worries of a boy who daren’t stop shining.

“You will soar.”

There are three more words that Shoyo needs to hear, but not from the friend. There’s someone else who needs to say them.

As for the friend-

“Brazil,” he starts, “is warm at night.”

“And the beaches-”

“You feel the sand beneath your feet. It’ll make your wings stronger.”

Shoyo’s spine starts to tingle, as if arching black wings will sprout from them any moment. He pauses; there’s one more thing he wonders about. The friend - a man who may even be a brother - knows just what he’ll ask.

“Tobio is stupid,” he responds, before Shoyo even opens his mouth.

“I know.”

“Even more than you think,” the brother barks a laugh. “You’ll text him sometime soon, it may even be tomorrow - you’ll tell him, and he won’t respond.” A frost forms in the brother’s voice, but he continues: “He’ll see you at practise, but he won’t say anything. You’ll… hate it. You’ll think he hates you.”

The brother is welling up. This isn’t what Shoyo needed to hear.

“Those moments will be some of the worst of your life.”

“Does he feel the same?" Shoyo rushes, infuriated that the brother is so cryptic. Just tell him, dammit, don't make him wonder.

The brother smiles, and it seems to be confirmation. “Yeah, and he’ll tell you, so hang tight.”

Heaving a breath, Shoyo tries to relax, but the brother starts on a tangent.

“The day you return to Japan-" he says, "he'll meet you at the airport. His hair will be messy." He sounds like he's recounting a memory, and his eyes glaze over. "And he'll put his hands around your waist."

"And?"

"And his hands are big. Strong. You won't remember them being as strong as they feel in that moment. He lifts you up, and," he sounds dreamy, "kisses you then and there. Everybody is watching and it doesn't matter at all."

A kiss other people can see, thinks Shoyo. He's never been kissed that way before.

"He puts you down and holds you close. You feel his hands on your back and breath on your neck."

Shoyo sharply intakes air. He's not sure he can still breathe. Whatever the brother describes next, Shoyo thinks he might just faint.

"And then?"

"He kneels... and you know the rest."

"What? No, tell me-"

The stranger, friend, brother, all of these things at once, looks Shoyo in his brown eyes. Eyes that he shares. Eyes that belong to him, because the stranger is him, has always been, down to the creases in his palms.

His hair is stark orange, fluffy, longer than Shoyo’s - and he shows his hand. A golden band, simple, probably engraved, lies around his ring finger. He gives a parting smile that feels like safety.

Shoyo's alarm wakes him up, and he's not in his bed - he's sprawled across the floor, having kicked off his covers, and he's confused, disoriented, asking himself the time.

He thinks of the future.

He may not remember the dream - but all of a sudden, he knows for sure that he’ll be okay.

He grabs his phone, opens his messages, and decides today's the day.

"Hey Kageyama," he reads aloud as he types. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

#hinata centric #hinata shouyou #kagehina #kageyama tobio #haikyuu!!#ship fics #shipfic #taylor fics #tobio kageyama #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata #shouyou hinata #haikyū!!#haikyuu

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spitzyyyy · 8 months

Text

wrote another gabbro/hatchling fic. oops. @sleepii-moth i forgor to post the other but get tagged idiot.

#outer wilds #outer wilds spoilers #spit speaks #outer wilds gabbro #spit art #outer wilds hatchling #shipfic #from ME??#yeah

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ilovethetalkingclock · 1 year

Text

Love Bites

GENRE: Horror, Romance

CHARACTERS: Kevin and Streber (Spooky Month)

SHIP: Candybats (Kevin x Streber)

TW: Blood, trauma, hallucination, animal death

SUMMARY: Streber wants to watch over Kevin during his night off, but Kevin isn't so sure... will Streber be safe from the wolf?

SEQUEL TIME, BABY!!! Expect more stories like this!!!

"Pleeeeeaaaase?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! At least for one night?"

"No!!!"

"Kev, I'll try and-"

"Christ almighty, Streber, ever since what happened last year I really don't think anything's worth the risk! You already lost an arm, I don't want you to lose the rest of yourself!"

Streber looked at his prosthetic with the mention of that. As much as he hated to admit it, Kevin had a valid point for the most part.

Streber had known about Kevin's secret ever since high school. Specifically, it was during the school dance event.

---

Kevin had asked Streber to join him, to which he gladly said yes. Of course, due to the year, they couldn't exactly consider each other dates by the school, but they were at heart.

That being said, Kevin realized that he was making a mistake when he felt mild cramping… just when he and Streber were about to secretly kiss.

Of course, Kevin did his best to do the deed before deciding to tell.

"I… I need to… tell something."

"Yes? What is it?"

"I'm… a… we… we…"

"Hmm?"

"I'm a were…"

"Ooh?"

"I'm aware that it's a bit early to leave butIHAVETOGOSORRY!!!!"

And just like that, Kevin was off.

Streber was… actually not that upset about it. For one, they got to kiss and that was neat.

Second of all, one look at the rising full moon combined with a passion for monster movies and he was quick to make a first guess.

He was more than elated to hear a confirmation when the newspaper came that morning with the reports of what was allegedly an "out-of-control malamute" wreaking havoc around the neighborhood.

Much to Kevin's own surprise, Streber was already at his door, eager to hear everything.

With initial reluctance, Kevin told that while the full moon transformations and blackouts were true, the idea of the silver bullets and the curse being contagious were inventions of cinema.

What he also told was that the wolf was not a vicious monster, but rather merely just… well… a wolf. A creature that while dangerous when approached improperly, was still simply an animal running on instinct.

"...so have you considered letting yourself transform in the woods more?"

"...not sure. You know how many hunters do their thing there."

---

"...regardless… I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

Kevin felt his eyes water. Gah, why'd that have to hit deeper than it should?!

"...fuck it. You can watch over me for tonight."

"Yes!!!" Streber immediately felt his spark come back.

"Just�� if anything happens… run. Run for your life."

It tugged Streber's heartstrings to hear, but if it was for Kevin so be it.

---

Kevin awoke to the taste of blood… and the feeling of the wind's breeze.

What nearly stopped his heart was that underneath him he felt not the cellar floor, but rather the feeling of grass and leaves.

Opening his eyes, he was nigh-blinded by the light of the daylight sky. He looked down to see his nude body splattered with the crimson juices.

"No… NONONONONO… NO!!!"

Immediately, he wandered through the woods in a tearful frantic huff, calling for his lover desperately.

"STREBER?!"

He ventured further, hoping that Streber would not only be still alive, but also the only one to see him naked.

What stopped him in his tracks was Streber's body. The prosthetic was gone, and there was blood coming right from the nub, as if he'd regrown his old arm only for it to be torn off again.

When Kevin blinked tears out, he saw that the still-fresh corpse was torn open with claw marks and bite wounds combined.

Just when Kevin closed his eyes to wail, he heard a voice.

"Kev!!!"

When his eyes opened the body was gone.

He turned to see Streber right behind him, completely unharmed.

Immediately, Kevin embraced him, his tears and snot dampening Streber's shirt.

The only time Kevin had cried like this was when he realized the incident of last Halloween, and Streber knew.

Immediately, Streber held him right back, not giving a fuck that his shirt was getting wet with saltwater, mucus, and blood.

After a while Kevin stopped crying and let go, his tears having given way to frustration.

"Streber, what the FUCK did you do?!"

Streber gave a nervous smile.

"Uhhhh… Iiiiiiii may have let you out into the woods??? I followed you and did my best to make sure you were safe!!!"

"Streber, I could have KILLED you."

"But ya didn't!"

Kevin calmed a bit.

"...not even try to?"

"Nope! You snarled at me when you first saw me but just a hold of my hand right in front of your muzzle, you gave a little sniff and we were all good!"

"...huh…"

"Yep!!!"

That alleviated Kevin's fears… but there was still something in his mind.

"This… this is fresher than what's in the minifridge. If I didn't kill you what did I kill?!"

"Oh, that's easy!"

Streber walked Kevin up to a bloodied deer carcass, throat torn out along with its insides and half of the skin gone.

"...ah. I see now."

---

Kevin used a nearby river to wash away the red. It was able to do a good job in making it look like nothing happened.

When he was done, Streber gave out his cape to both dry Kevin and cover him up.

"Do you have to carry this with you everywhere?"

"Why not?"

Couldn't argue with that logic. At least it helped here.

The two walked back to Kevin's house out of the forest and through the neighborhood backyards.

"Soooooo…"

"Hmm?"

"With this in mind, can I watch you again next month?"

"As much as I want to say no… eh why not?"

"Yay!!!!!!"

The way Streber squealed warmed Kevin's heart.

"I have a couple hours before work. You can stay in my house until the time comes."

"...can I give you a bunch of headpats first thing?"

Kevin gave Streber an unamused look.

"Sorry, I-"

The face became a smile, which prompted Streber to make one too.

"Obviously."

#spooky month #spooky month kevin #spooky month streber #fanfic #woofkev au #tw animal death #tw blood #candybats #kevin x streber #ship #shipfic #werewolf!kevin #werewolf #lycanthropy

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accidentally-drank-paintwater · 1 year

Text

Some more Wenclair

this picks up from the Wenclair hug

3rd person

Wednesday was never a hugger. But when Enid ran up to her, embracing her with all her heart and even though she was wounded, something flamed in her cold heart. She hugged Enid back, giving every ounce of love she had to offer into it. Enid started crying into Wednesday’s shoulder. She thought Wednesday had died. Wednesday closed her eyes and enjoyed the hug. Wednesday loved Enid. That was for certain. She and Enid broke apart after minutes, though it felt like forever. They looked at eachother and Enid wiped away a tear. Wednesday lightly touched where Enid was hurt, and she winced. Wednesday cupped the cheek of Enid. She hated seeing her friend hurt.

“Students of Nevermore!” Wednesday shouted, putting Enid’s head on her shoulder. “Crack stone and Ms. Thornhill are defeated.” The students whispered amongst themselves. “Please if you are hurt go to the nurse! If not, please return to your room and clean yourself and your roommate up!” Wednesday finished. The students nodded and slowly began leaving. Wednesday looked down at Enid, who had fallen asleep.

Wednesday bent down and grabbed Enid’s legs, hoisting her up bridal style. Wednesday walked to their room, calls of “Are you ok?” Sent to both her and Enid. A nod was provided for each one. Finally, Wednesday reached her room. Thing was waiting in the bathroom with a hot bath. Wednesday blushed realizing she would have to undress and get Enid in the bath tub. Wednesday sat Enid on the edge of the bathtub, waking her up. Wednesday unwrapped the jacket Enid had on, looking away from Enid. She gently put Enid in the bathtub, who moaned from the warmth against her sore muscles. Thing quickly covered Enid in bubbles so her nakedness wasn’t seen. Wednesday grabbed a towel and ran it under hot water, wringing it out. She walked over and gently began scrubbing the dirt and blood off Enid. Enid winced in pain but didn’t protest. When Enid’s face was clean, Wednesday grabbed some gauze and wrapped up Enid’s wounds. When she was satisfied, Wednesday got up.

“Thing, clean her off and tend to any wounds that I didn’t cover. I’m going to go and wash the blood off me in the other bathroom.” Thing tapped his fingers to let Wednesday know ‘ok’. Wednesday left the bathroom.

Wednesday returned half an hour later in a striped thin sweater with some big black pants that flowed out. She saw Enid was on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around her. Enid walked outside and stood by her. Enid was clean with gauze on her arms and legs. Wednesday thought that she probably had some on her torso too. Thing had changed her into the sweater she had worn all those months ago. Pink and orange and cheery. She was also wearing some purple shorts and rainbow knee high socks.

“You shouldn’t be out here you know. It’s cold and you should be resting,” Wednesday said. Enid didn’t respond or show she had heard, just looked over the balcony at the moon. Wednesday looked at Enid. Enid was emotionless. Wednesday’s heart broke at the fact that Enid wasn’t talking to her. “Enid I’m sorry that you had to fight Tyler! I never should’ve interacted with him in the first place, and I just—”

Enid put a finger over Wednesday’s lips. Wednesday stopped talking, and quickly wiped away the tear that was starting to form in her eye. Enid grabbed Wednesday’s hand and held it. Wednesday didn’t talk but instead looked at Enid. After awhile, Enid turned away and walked inside, pulling Wednesday with her. She sat on her bed and looked into Wednesday’s eyes.

“Wednesday, don’t apologize. I will always fight for you. And I will always be here for you,” Enid grabbed both of Wednesday’s hands and squeezed them. “I love you Wednesday.”

Wednesday blushed. Wednesday didn’t know what love felt like, but she thought it might be this. Her heart hurt in the best way, and she felt warm. Enid stood up and let Wednesday’s hands go. Enid thought Wednesday wouldn’t feel the same, so she had already made peace with that. She was just about to leave to go see Yoko when Wednesday grabbed her hand. Spinning her around, Wednesday grabbed Enid and pulled her towards herself.

She kissed Enid.

Enid felt so many different emotions at once. Wednesday had her arms wrapped around her tightly, as though afraid of letting her go. Enid kissed Wednesday back and wrapped her arms around her neck. After years, or maybe only minutes, Enid pulled away and looked at Wednesday with the biggest smile on her face. Wednesday smiled too. Not big or with teeth, just a smile, and that was all Enid would ever need.

Note; so I kinda forgot abt Ajax but let’s face it I think he should’ve realized at that hug scene that Enid loved Wednesday cuz cmon that was adorable ☺️

edit: holy crap I finally read this and there were a lot of grammar errors so sorry but I fixed most of them now 👍

#Wenclair #netflix wednesday #wednesday x enid #wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #enid #shipfic #Christmas Eve yall #Merry Christmas #I still didn’t proofread this

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askdarkriders · 1 year

Note

oooh is that a shipfic we saw?

#Sparrow #shipping #shipfic #ask #drakowulf #mlp #fim #comic #art #dark riders #ponies #my little pony #oc

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scrawnytreedemon · 5 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Underage Relationships: Princess Hilda/Yuga Characters: Princess Hilda (Legend of Zelda), Yuga (Legend of Zelda), Yuga Ganon Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Underage, Master/Servant, Anthro/Human Relationships, Licking, Biting, Healing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Coworkers to lovers, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Cuddling & Snuggling, teenage girls stop apologising challenge, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Beastial Behaviour, Kissing, First Kiss, Underage Kissing, Princess/Shitty Paint Wizard who she must rely on, Boar Edition™, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary:

Fumes rising from the deep, the heavy clink and groan of the chains. The dull thud of the soldiers' footsteps, making their patrols. The hall is somehow sweltering in that stuffy, sticky kind of way, while also being lashed by icy drafts snaking their way in through cracks in the brickwork. Lava glows warm against purple-blue walls.

Lorule Castle is truly a thing to behold.

Only two Sages left to go. They ought to wrap up the preparations. Counterintuitive as it might seem to imperil the hero you're luring, he'd be all too suspicious to find the castle bare. Besides... She wants to see him challenged. Behold the Courage enshrined. Redundant, perhaps. Indulgent, maybe.

Yuga wants to put hog-heads up on the throneroom walls.

Hilda groans.

In the perpetual dusk of Lorule Castle, its two inhabitants convene. Despite everything, including herself, Hilda longs for warmth. Yuga, for all his cruelty, gives it.

~*~

Finally have something out for this ship lads let’s fucking GOOOOOOOOOO

#tloz #tloz albw #a link between worlds #princess hilda #albw yuga #yugaganon #yuga ganon #fanfic #scrawny writes #shipfic #been deliberating where to post this and after a talk with the fellas i've chosen main #i hope the people here are sensible about dark content but also. i am a longtime gh/ral/nk shipper.#even if you brush it up that dynamic is inherently toxic and needs serious work to be anything otherwise #in short: fuck it we ball #send tweet

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goldemas1244 · 2 years

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Happy Birthday

- A MLBB fanfic (Ship: Zhask X Yve) -

Based on (but not entirely accurately) a prompt posted on Instagram by writing.prompt.s:

Sidenote: @sentinelpri you are my favourite fic writer (despite my inactivity with your works for a while now) and I respect you. You have become the basis of one part of my writing style. So here, if I may, I'd like to request that you read and review this fic. I know you don't know who these guys are but I hope the writing's good enough that it covers that aspect even minutely. Thank you!

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Her lithe fingers grazed the edge of the forlorn portal as she gazed out into outer space. It didn't belong to her, yet she recognised its signature, begging her to pass through. But for whatever reason, she could only guess.

Perhaps Zhask had decided to finally give up the chase and end it all. That would be morally convenient for her. One small step for peace, one giant leap for the reparation of the equilibrium.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a melancholic undertone stifling itself through the vacuum of space and time. Unlike the smooth and polished portals her archnemesis frequently built, this one had a sort of rag to it. Perhaps it wasn't his? Oh no, it definitely was his, there was no denying the signature circadian hum-buzz.

Her gut twinged with all the experience of a hunter, telling her that she should come prepared. Prepared for what, she couldn't say, so she went with an ambush. After all, Zhask was as well-maintained in his conquests as he was in his retreats, was he not?

Checking herself to make sure she was at least presentable enough for the capture of the King of the Swarm, Yve stepped through the portal as it closed behind her.

The empty void of space was cold, colder than the freezing tundra she came from. Yet it was a familiar cold, a cold she embraced with pleasure, for it was her one true home aside from Mithlora.

Attentively, she studied her surroundings. She was in quite a faraway galaxy from Bima Sakti, with floating geological masses of history astray all around her. As the faraway stars littered her vision with light, she noticed familiar inscriptions in the masses, and recognised that these were the ruins of Kastiya.

Kastiya. She remembered how and why that planet was destroyed. Zhask had been a large-scale criminal then, but the explosion of his planet's core had brought him to an all-time dead-or-alive status. Sometimes she regretted coming up with the idea.

One other thing she took note of was that, to her surprise, she was alone. No stray nightmaric spawn come to devour her, no Kastiyan King to give her cranial damage via Domorey, no colour, no life. Everything was a drab, burnt out sight save for the starry skyline.

Attuning her other senses, she studied the pitiless wrecks until at last she sensed a vibration in the space-time continuum. Melancholic in tone, it had a desperation to it. Quite unlike Zhask but still....

Ever alert, the Astrowarden inched closer to the source of the vibration. It wasn't long before she came upon a sight most... intimate?

There was Zhask, sans staff and consecutively Domorey, sitting on a chunk of space rock, stroking one of his little swarm-children lovingly. His eyes seemed glazed in thought. His voice could be heard, albeit in the faintest of tones, softly whispering out what she could only assume to be a Kastiyan folk song of some sort. It rhymed and it had a melody to it, which, much to her chagrin, she fell in love with.

The King of the Swarm. The Planes Dominator. The Ruthless Invader. Alone.

Yve knew it wasn't a smart decision but she drew closer towards the hulking mass of blue and red as if magnetised by a seventh sense. Now out in the very open, she was vulnerable, but aside from what she had heard and seen prior, Zhask didn't even acknowledge her. Her shoulders relaxed. If this was a trigger for a space-beartrap, it was at least a beginner's machination.

She was only but a few feet away from her archenemy when he ended his reverie, tilting his head upwards to look at her. Unwavering in his eye contact, he patted a soft patch of dried grassland beside him, a sort of motioning for Yve to come and sit. Unfamiliar with this custom of friendship, she hesitated, but penultimately cast her resistance aside and sat next to him.

His breathing was shallowed and, as Yve, ever perceiving, took a closer look at him, she could tell that he'd been here a while. At this point, his affection towards his little spawn had ceased, leaving it bewildered and looking back up at its master in expectation of more. In exchange, he cupped the little thing in his hands and brought it closer to his thorax in an embrace.

"So, Yve?" he began, tilting his head to the side as if to warrant curiosity. "What brings a Mithlorian like you here to Kastiya? Or, well, what remains of it."

Yve was taken aback by the question. Small talk? This was very unlike the enemy she had grown to hate with all her heart. Still, she wasn't in want of generous courtesy and replied in a monotonous tone, "I saw your unclosed portal."

Zhask chuckled, a slight baritone fondness in its echolocation. "Correction: 'your' unclosed portal." Then, after a moment's silence, "It was meant for you, Yve."

"But why exactly did you waste your 'precious' energy on such an unnecessary thing?" Yve questioned, unwavering. "You know you could've just told me to meet you up here and I would fly off to catch you and turn you in. How did you even create a portal under our ever watchful gaze?"

"Well for starters," Zhask began, raising up a finger, "I didn't want to burden you with using up yours. And second of all, every portal a Kastiyan has ever made contains a riskier sub-portal space they can use instead. This one is untraceable, even by the most skilful of hunters. It's how I managed to escape you on Utapau that time."

Yve gently smiled under her mask, remembering how she had absolutely demolished that bastard that time. And she would've killed him too had it not been for a random laser bolt distracting her. Damned battle droids. He'd escaped without the slightest effort, and she had sulked through three galaxies because of it.

Silence passed between the two and for a moment it seemed as if the equilibrium of the universe was in peace.

Eventually, Zhask broke the silence.

"It's my birthday today."

Yve's eyes widened underneath her mask. Zhask's birthday was something she had never considered in all their years of chasing and escaping.

"I'd invited all my friends and family," he continued, hand outstretched as he gestured towards the rubble that lay before them. "But they... haven't arrived as of yet." His head lowered as if in a sort of defeat. "I'll still be waiting though. Sure, they haven't shown up in years now but I'll wait."

The little spawn he was holding began to chirrup as if it could sense the pain in its master's heart. Yve could too; it tremored like an earthquake in her ears. For once in her life she felt sorry for Zhask.

She looked towards the unsightly masses of matter and rock attempting to picture how Kastiya once looked, how things were before it all. She understood once that Zhask was a criminal to be destroyed for the sake of the equilibrium, but now, ever so suddenly, she had a sense that perhaps it didn't have to be that way. An equilibrium could be fixed, she logically reckoned, and with the power of such a being as Zhask on its reparation it would make things much smoother.

But his aura was unfavourable for such commentary so she turned to ask him how things were before the conquests, in hopes that he could spill a thing or two to satiate her innate curiosity and, perhaps also, to cheer himself up.

"Before?" Zhask perked up a little at the mere mention of the word. "Well, before, we were prosperous. We had technology unmatched by any being, power unimaginable by mere mortals, intellect and strength that would put a god to shame."

Yve took note of how his eyes lit up.

"But we were animals as well. Of course, we ARE insects, and you've seen how their natural world is. Indeed, some of our tribes were peaceful and lived with kindred spirits. But mine own was a dominator's kind, with souls as hardened as rocks. It was the natural order. Especially during the mating season."

Zhask let loose a chuckle, and for a moment Yve felt butterflies fluttering in her cheeks.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't as hard as the rest of my kind." Zhask's eyes dropped to his spawn, beginning to stroke it again as if it was an idle animation of his. "I was softer, much more... caring, dependant even, towards my environment. I never much fit in. I could only count one or two friends I'd ever had. Nobody really wanted anything to do with a soft Beetle."

Yve shifted her focus some; this was getting into personal territory.

"I had different hobbies and interests compared to the other members of my tribe. This ensured that I had a bit more of a strict upbringing compared to the others. In a while, all I was was gone, and the monster you see before you now was born."

Yve remained silent, listening to this recollection with the utmost patience. Nevermore had she been as patient as this. It was almost cathartic.

"I... never really wanted to hurt anybody. But I had to maintain an image somehow. Kindness was never our forte. But strength was and so I did what my parents before me, and so theirs before, did."

"You conquered planets," Yve piped in at last. Her inquiry sparked a withered sigh from her companion and a pang of guilt surged through her veins.

"Yes, I did. As the Earth's practice of hunting for sport 'til extinction, so did we with planets. We took on their survivors as slaves. My upbringing ensured I was a selfish, cruel, and uncaring sadist.... If younger me had seen it with my own two eyes, he would've shuddered in fear and disgust at what he'd become."

He stared at the chittering spawn in his hands and brought it up to his face, nuzzling it with affection. Yve didn't want to believe it, but perhaps it was true that this insect could tear up. Moreso proven as he hitched.

She didn't know what else to do. Her mind had gone blank and all thoughts of violence had faded as the dying of a star. What was she to say? To do?

"And now I have to do it," Zhask stammered, tightening his grip on the now silent chitterer. "I have to do it. What's been done to the others has now been done to mine. I have to ensure...." He dared not finish his sentence.

He feared he'd say the wrong things and get himself offed.

Luckily, Yve had begun to understand. "You have to ensure your people survive," she continued. "You're the king, and per your growth, it was the only proper way you knew how. And you can't think of any other way."

She inched closer to him. Her ears were bursting with the rapid rhythms of his heartbeat, her senses filled with an equilibrium she herself had never even experienced prior. Then she took the little spawn in her hands and softly stroked it as Zhask did.

To feel the coldness of his little pet pulled from him yet the warmth emanating from his adversary pulling him in was familiar. But not this way. It made him feel colder than he already was and he shifted in his seat.

But the little thing chirruped with a new kind of fondness Zhask hadn't heard from any one of them in a long while. Turning his head to look at it, his eyes met with those of Yve.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he began to cry.

Yve shook to her very core. She'd never had to comfort someone, especially since part of their grief was her own causing. But she had to do something, so she did what anybody did best.

She held him the best she could. One arm slung over his shoulder, the other still holding the spawn close between them. It was an awkward hug, but it was one of her very few and she knew Zhask shared that sentiment as well.

Upheavals of inexistent air escaped his lungs with every whimpering breath he took. His head lowered to rest on one of Yve's shoulders. His hands gripped her arms tightly, begging her never to let go of him, never to leave.

Yve felt his claws dig into her flesh but she didn't mind. For a moment they shared their pain, even if she'd never told him any of hers. But she knew he felt it too, and he did.

It wasn't after a long while that they released their hold on each other. Zhask pulled his knees up to his thorax whilst Yve knelt on hers. She put a hand on his shoulder, still cradling the little chitterer.

"Zhask," she began, eyes steady on him, voice as crystal as ever. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you. But that doesn't mean you're entirely forgiven for what you've done. You understand that don't you?"

Zhask lowered his head.

"But that doesn't mean you're broken forever, for I'll fix a deal with you." Yve took her hand off his shoulder and reached into one of her pockets, a resolve quickly forming in her mind. "You'll still have to fix the equilibrium you've damaged... and if you do then I promise, in the name of the Mithlorians, we'll help you in turn."

Zhask couldn't believe his ears. Was he... pardoned? In a sense it seemed he was.

He lifted his head in disbelief. Just what Yve wanted.

As such, she pulled out a small purple crystal from her pocket. "This is a Mithlorian heirloom," she stated. "A gift one should forever cherish. It is made of one of the innermost crystals of our realm. It is a sign of an unbreakable alliance, loyalty to the furthest extent. To receive it, is to receive our protection, in return of yourself."

She motioned for Zhask to hold out his hand, which he shakily did. "Today, on the day of your birth, you are reborn. Forevermore, you are now no longer the King of the Swarm, nor will you be the Planes Dominator."

And she placed the precious gemstone in his hand. "From now on, if you accept," she continued shakily, "you shall be Zhask, the embodiment of endurance, Herald of Redemption. You shall bring balance to the equilibrium once more and prevent it from ever falling to the wrong hands."

Yve began to stand and Zhask himself to kneel.

"If you would accept, Zhask."

The critter in her arm now jumped down onto the rock, an excited glimmer in its optic as Yve placed both her hands on his.

"To be... a Mithlorian."

Zhask could only choke out a strangled mewl. To receive such an honour, such a fresh start, it seemed all too good to be true.

And yet, a realisation popped into his head.

"Are you... proposing to me?"

"It is an uncommon Mithlorian tradition to betroth ourselves to our foes worthy of change, but a tradition nonetheless," Yve explained. "Two generations back, and many more farther, I have seen examples and they're still with us, guardians of the cosmos. Never have they brought upon failure, and always they have brought balance. Thus I may ask you, Zhask, on this well-fated day, to be one with me. To be one with us."

Zhask's eyes lit up unlike ever before. "Yve," he started, "ever since you first determined to hunt me down, ever since you first dared to attack me, I knew that one day I'd be caught. And on that day I swore that when such a day happened, I should confess no matter the peril."

He gripped Yve's hands tighter as he continued, slowly coming to his feet. "And today you have ensnared me. Thus, as Zhask, King of the Kastiyans, or what's left of them, I accept your proposal, and I hope that this pact we seal transcends farther than the reaches of the universe."

"Then arise, my champion, my honour, my king, for we both, in essence, were of the same wish at one point. Arise, and be one with mine, and with the equilibrium, in permanance."

And he arose to his full height. His chest puffed out with pride, he was a figurehead of confidence. His eyes once soaked with tears now beamed with love and adoration.

Repositioning his hands so their fingers were now interlocked, he began to pull his bride-to-be closer into an embrace.

And the crystal she had given him began to emanate a shimmer of light.

They both took notice of this and watched as it gleamed a bright and serene blue, seeping into both their very veins, straight to their hearts. And all at once, they both had been altered.

Where once was a mask now revealed a beauteous face, bright twilight eyes accentuated by violet lips. And where once was a beast of blue and red now stood a figura of blue and white, formed of the constellation of Cancer. In shock and awe, they both pulled apart from each other, eyes transfixed on what changes, mostly on Zhask, were produced.

And they both fell deeper in love with one another, as if their rivalry had never existed.

"Yve..."

"Zhask..."

Lest we forget about the little bug on the ground, indeed I do have to mention that it had stayed silent the entire time, its one optic too excited to process what had occured. Too in awe, it just sat there, watching the scene unfold as you and I.

Zhask held out his hand to Yve. As she held it, he knelt and kissed it with a tenderness he had never exhibited before. It was a fresh start, a new life, a partner for the first time in his life.

"This was the best birthday I'd ever had," he quipped, amused. "The best gift as well." He stood and held her in his arms; she chuckled and rested her head on his thorax.

All of a sudden, the little spawn chirped out a rhythmic beat and they pulled their eyes away from each other.

Before them came a rift in space-time. And from this rift, came a blinding flash of bright white light.

"Zhask," said Yve with a large smile on her face, "I think it's time we meet your in-laws."

And as the portal beckoned, so too did they follow, with the little spawn trailing behind.

-FIN-

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dreamys-mess · 1 year

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it's been 4 months but I finally updated the Ravenprint shipfic wooo-

#mellow talks #ravenprint #shipfic

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tiniest-typewriter · 2 years

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“from the rabbit´s mouth..”

Fandom: the walten files

ship: Edd x Molly

summary: Edd finds the perfect way to confess his feelings..

the school party was pretty uneventful for the most part. it was what you would expect from such an event really. tasty, unhealthy snacks and sodas, safe, family friendly music and adult supervisors that ran after children who were causing trouble with pranks.

it was fun, but also nothing special.

Edd and Molly were mostly keeping for themselves, the former always holding his little sister's hand and the latter holding Rocket tightly to her chest.

but as mundane as this event was, Edd had something special planned, thinking this party would be the perfect opportunity.

there was something he wanted to tell his sister for a while now, but he never had the nerves or the right opportunity to do so.

but today would be different, he told himself.

Molly was cuddling rocket close and pulled her older brother from place to place, wanting to take everything in that this event had to offer.

as they were headed to the snacks table for the third time now, he took a breath and prepared himself to speak.

"uhm..Molly?" he began, only to feel his words getting lodged in his throat as she looked at him with a little smile. "yes?" she said, her mouth full with crackers.

"oh..n-nothing.." Edd said, chickening out yet again.

that happened so often. he would always try to start the conversation only to give up right away..

he took a cup of soda, his gaze wandering as he drank, until his eyes met Rocket's.

Molly loved that doll a lot, which is why she always insisted on bringing it with her wherever she went.

Edd was complaining about that earlier, saying that they would be late, but right now, he couldn't have been more glad that she brought him with her.

"hey Molly, can I take rocket for a second?" he asked, to which Molly nodded. "okay" she said.

the boy looked around to check if anyone was near them and grabbed the doll by it's paws as he saw that they were alone.

putting on a voice that he thought would fit rocket best, Edd began to puppeteer him.

"Molly! there is something your brother wants to tell you, but he can't!" 'rocket' said, which made Molly giggle. "oh really?" she asked.

"oh yes! your brother is way too shy! but I am not! so I will say it for him! you see.." Edd was swallowing hard in his throat, nuzzling his beet red face into the doll out of embarrassment and considered just chickening out again.

but he squeezed his eyes shut and kept on with his puppet show.

"Edd loves you, Molly!" 'rocket' said. "he loves you more than anything!" Edd's legs were shaking and his put on voice was beginning to crumble into his normal one again. "so uh..I would- I mean HE would love to..well..date..you..?"

the fact that he didn't hear anything from Molly this whole time was already a bad, bad sign.

Edd was just about ready to run off crying, but he suddenly felt a warm pair of hands grabbing his own, as well as Rocket's.

Molly giggled happily and gave rocket a kiss on his nose. "Rocket, tell Edd that I would love to! and that I love him too and that he's the sweetest, cutest, kindest and bravest boy I know!"

she didn't wait for the doll to answer, instead, she reached her arms around both Rocket and Edd and hugged them both as tightly as she could, making the older boy tear up as he hugged them both back.

as Molly took Rocket back from her brother, she gently took his hand in hers and smiled at him. the kind of sweet and reassuring smile that really made any spoken words unnecessary.

Edd rubbed at his eyes and smiled back, happy that he finally got this off his chest and also that it had an outcome that he didn't exactly expect, yet hoped for more than anything.

it was already late and a quick glance at the clock told the boy that it was almost time to head home.

"we should go look for uncle Felix.." he said, giving his sister's hand a squeeze as they both made their way over to the 'drinking area' where the adults were...

#the walten files #walten files #twf #twf fandom #twf fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #shipfic #shipcest #Edd x Molly

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