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randomnameless · 7 months

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The zombie ask made me remember a thought I had for SS's final chapter where anyone who got blood directly from Rhea would have been resurrected to protect her (their vision is like that horror game blurry where they can see enough to spot you but can't see you from across the map). Jerry and Willy are mini-bosses near Rhea to make the area around her dangerous. Jerry and Billy having a talk where Jerry says anything he wished he could've said in life‚ and Willy having convos with empire (1/3)

(2/3) and nabatean units. Like Willy saying to Seteth‚ "Cichol! How long has it been? About the shield-" and Seteth wondering if the Willy talking to him is actually there or it's Rhea perception of Willy talking. Willy's empire convos would lean towards Willy himself is talking‚ with him saying to Ferdinand‚ "I never thought I'd see the day that anyone related to Aegir would join Nemesis." Him mistaking Bernie for Indech. And Billy's would be Willy thinking they're Nemesis (3/3) "Despite my vision‚ I know that's you Nemesis. I don't know how you're alive but this time you're staying dead!"‚ and anyone related to the elites as "After Seiros sparred you all‚ you dare turn your blade against her?! Do you even know what your 'relic' is made from?" TL;DR: I wanted more WoH content despite Nopes giving some‚ and thinking about how can I jam in as much as I can with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Sorry for the long ask‚ wanted to get these thoughts out of my system.

No pbs anon!

I guess we all didn't like at all how the game bothered to bring back zombies but never wrote battle quotes against them (tfw Seteth'n'Flayn have no battle quote against Nemesis...)

I was going to hype zombie!Ionius, but he never got her blood directly, so he wouldn't have been resurrected :(

(let's be real, if zombie!Ionius was real and brought back in his prime, he would fold those Faerghian barbarians and those foreigners with his pinky, because he'd be that much of an awesome unit)

However, instead of them being "mistaken" because their resurrection failed about what's happening, I'd say let them get full awareness (as much as they can muster) about who they're fighting against!

I'd see a Jerry-Billy convo being a lot of apologies, especially since Billy accepted to take Rhea's mantle and was/is truly happy in the Monastery, something Jerry obviously wrote off when he ran away all those years, maybe we could have Jerry muse that it's weird how he was "brought back" to protect a Rhea who lost her mind know, and how ironic it is, when he should have stayed and maybe if he didn't ran away all those years ago, Billy would have led a happier life, and whatever Rhea's having right now wouldn't have happened. Billy ultimately putting his grievances to rest, saying that despite everything, they are still happy Jerry's their dad, and maybe ends with some "thank you Father" instead of calling them Jerry (in an AU where Billy is voiced, of course!).

Maybe a convo with Leonie too, where Jerry tries to goad her into killing him, saying she never got what it "takes" to be a merc, because she is a nice kid and isn't able to put her morals aside for a bag of money.

And with Alois, Jerry could encourage him, for the "first and last time", saying he'll make a fine Captain of the Knights, and to please not end up like him, mocking the wishes of his wife and not doing everything he could for the kid.

---

Emperor Willy himself wondering where the fuck he is, but if Seiros is in this form, then he has to protect her - and it this is the post Lycaon death AU* Willy isn't surprised at seeing Adrestia turn its blade against Seiros, because Adrestia is a failure and he lost faith in the world.

Against Cichol, Willy could open the convo with the shield, noticing how Cichol took "his" shield, Seteth tries to reply but it's useless, and asks him to stand aside, Willy says he cannot, even for him, his "brother" because Seiros is his priority, and if in that state she'll bring ruin to the world, then so be it, Seteth sighs, apologises (and rekts him).

I suppose Flayn would ask him to get the fuck out of the way, and Willy will refuse, but also apologise for what happened to her, and her mother too (and her cousin!), but crusts this world and its inhabitants are to blame.

Willy against Billy... well, Willy will think they're one of Nemesis's scion even if he thought the guy died childless- despite their hair color, he knows better after all! - and reveals he was on Macuil's side, and told Seiros mercy would be wasted on the likes of them (the Elites' families and, I suppose, Nemesis's potential fam?), but she didn't listen to him.

Willy against the Empire peeps would be hilarious though, because in the AU* Willy ditched it after Lycaon's death, so he'd be pretty pissed that the same Empire now tries to kill Seiros. Maybe he'd call Ferdie a scion of traitor, referring to Derrick, who pledged his loyalty to an usurper (Empress Hildegarde, who took the throne after Lycaon's death), raving about how he descends from a line of traitors, and he will put an end to this farce himself (with his stats? lol).

Willy'd also be pissed seeing Bernie, digusted at what Adrestia became if Bernie, as a noble, is what Adrestia's finest has to offer (maybe insert a fire joke or two) - Bernie could find the courage to fight back against this rando who insults her and tell him to shut up, because she wants to fight to protect people now.

Lin would maybe comment on Willy being, well, Willy, and wondering why the fuck is he fighting against the Empire, maybe with Willy telling him this is what he should have down instead, cutting off his own "blood"* for the sake of Fodlan, but he will correct this mistake right now.

Caspar would be interested in fighting this "strong warrior" from ancient times, if the fate of Fodlan wasn't at stake, Willy'd swore he came from an Elite family with a mindset like this, but only be digusted.

As for Petra, maybe we could get an ancient exemple of Adrestian assholery, like Willy saying he thought the people of "Eyvel" wouldn't be mindless allies of the Empire, and how mistaken he was, they're "savages" after all - only for Petra to reply with some "who are you? Get out of my way plz" (and she crits him and he dies).

And for Doro... I guess their convo would be the most important "lore wise", Doro immediately recognises him and wonder if he is here to avenge Edie - Willy immediately cuts her off, asking why he should even care about that person when no one avenged his son when he was murdered by his "bastard" siblings (confirming that Supreme Leader is not part lizard!).

*The AU I'm talking about is the AU I came up with, aka Lycaon being a half lizard, being named heir, murdered by his "human" half-siblings/nephews - Willy learns it and immediately bails out of Adrestia, having lost faith in Fodlan, humanity and well, most likely everything. After 80 years of chronic depression (while Rhea is now obsessed with bringing back Sothis, because she will make the world go round, and be safe anew for Nabateans living and the ones that would be brought back, humans, and even Lycaon who will obviously return - Willy doesn't believe it) he passes away after having found some sort of renewed faith in the world (seeing all those people coming to the Monastery and tending to their daily lives, looking after orphans, etc etc). So obviously, when he's brought back at the end of SS and sees Adrestia, targeting Seiros/Rhea, he loses it and becomes an extra kind of asshole (a tru hresvelg).

I agree with you though, maybe add a bit of "savages" and "ungrateful barbarians" here and there, but I don't think Willy is even going to listen to reason or even try to listen at all (like a tru hresvelg) anyone who descends from an Elite.

Maybe after those two mini-bosses, Seteth would say that those "persons" were not the ones they were in life, and how the Crest (crusts are to blame!) warped their personalities, only for Flayn to follow with a meaningful "..." - opening a lot redshit threads for fans to "give their own version" lol

---

And for extra useless completionist stuff, like, if you picked the "Nabatean" option in the Sothis paralogue when Supreme Leader asks you who was lived in the Red Canyon, got a C+ support with Supreme Leader and went to her coronation, fought her using Billy and the Nabateans (with the famous "your ears are pointy you cannot rule over humans"), have both Billy and the Nabateans fight against Thales and Billy had a A support with all Nabateans, after Jerry and Willy's death, Berserk!Rhea would unleash a large scripted AoE on the map, empty husk!Lycaon could appear on the map, maybe as a white beast like creature on steroids, but who looks more like the IO than a regular White Beast (he has arms and wings?), who starts on the opposite side of the map and goes in your direction, but unlike the other white beasts, damaged dealt on Rhea won't be reflected on him.

Obviously, if the party kills him, Berserk!Rhea suddenly gains "Wrath" - but if you stall too much, empty!husk Lycaon has stats to ruin your party (unlike Willy!). Also if he dies then A support or no A support Rhea doesn't survive.

(And maybe if you accidently kill him, Billy gets "!" box popping up, with a new use of "Divine Pulse" coming out from nowhere, as it's Sothis' way to ask them to find a way not to kill him)

Billy will reveal what that unit is, idk, maybe they're closing their eyes and say that they are only a body animated by idk, the resonating power of the IO's Crest - but their true spirit has been long gone, now only remains a body and the rage it had before passing away. Then Billy opens their eyes, and says they would have wanted to meet him under other circumstances (but who is talking? Billy? or Sothis?)

Flayn despairs seeing her "cousin" (confirming her ties to Rhea!) in this situation, apologises for not having been able to be there for him, idk, like she promised too, but this time, she will.

Seteth too is saddened and while he wonders how many members of his family he will have to kill today, he tells Lycaon that this is final lesson, so he better remember it.

Ah, and in this revamped SS finale (since we're in AU land!), Relics work like Devil Weapon against Rhea and Lycaon - damage isn't dealt to the foe, but to your unit instead! And if your unit survives, the Relic insta-breaks (as a gameplay mechanic like 0 uses left).

End of the fight, Rhea survives (?), there is some ending blurb about every White Beast who wasn't defeated vanished "as if they were finally put to rest", that S support is revamped to have Rhea more or less say she has to move on now and cannot be stuck in the past, and has to let the past "rest in peace" to finally move forward - both for her and the one shes so dearly misses (ending line would be Billy in brackets musing how rare it is to see Sothis smile).

Ultimate bonus if this is the last route you play (or finished all the other routes), and if you got this ending, you'd have a special scene at the end, of Rhea and Billy waving hands at an assembly composed of all BE students (some of them waving back! even Bernie!), members of staff/knights, some randoms, but also, 11 randos with green hair and pointy ears, idk, wearing tunics with their emblems to know who they are, Willy (back to his bright and stupid self) carrying kid!Lycaon (with his pointy ears!) on his shoulders, some other random woman next to Flayn with a matching haircut, Manu pulling at Seteth's pointy ear (if they got their A+ support, else he frowns like usual), ghost!Jerry and ghost!Sitri waving too, and adult!Sothis (all the ghosts are transparent like, save for adult!Sothis - again, it would have been made on purpose by the devs who wondered if that would have created fanwank about Sothis' state, dead or alive?).

Not to say ghosts are real in Fodlan, but it would be some sort of representation that both dead and living people are happy to see a world where both humans and Nabateans can live together - even if they're dead, their dreams live on, or some stuff like that.

But of course, to get this ending, you'd have to get the most out of Supreme Leader's beliefs and the general intolerance that permeated Fodlan since, well, the Red Canyon, but even before (the first agarthan war?).

#anon #replies #fodlan AU #is it the wilhelm hour?#uh it got long #as always when we're talking about willy lol #imagine SS where Sothis tries to help #sure it's a bit hammy and all with all those dead people popping up #and the ending only ends with 'and humans and nabateans coexisted afterwards!' without tackling the plot proper #but that'd also imply changing said 'plot'#in this route at least #Billy finally gets to meet their parents and has their discussion with Jerry #imagine the fanwank 'jerry totes represent regret 10k words essays'#'evil lizard lady manipulated willy into hating his race and family 10k words essays"#this is why i don't write fanfics #i don't know where i'm going lol #sure it's not a golden ending because Fodlan is still fucked thanks to Supreme Leader #but it gives closure and ending to the Nabateans #they're not dead off screen like what happens in VW #nor a footnote in an ending like AM #and let's not talk about Tru Piss lol #FE16 #fodlan nonsense

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moongothic · 5 months

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Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Nico Robin #THIS POST WAS AN ACCIDENT. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. WHY DID I WRITE THIS. WHAT DEMON POSSESSED ME #I'm sure someone's written this already right #Right #Surely this fanfic already exists #Please tell me it exists #I dunno what to tell you I am not immune to a Juicy AU #Anyway on a more wholesome side of things: Robin accidentally calling Crocodile ''dad'' and he just inhales and swallows his whole cigar #Nearly chockes to death. Gets burns on his throat.#Robin feeling less alienated because of her DF ability because Croc has seen weirder AND is made of sand himself #If anything if they're literally by themselves then Robin being able to literally lend a hand to Croc at any time could be extremely useful #Like. In regular life situations. 'Cause Croc only has one hand. And Robin as many as she wants. Perfect duo.#(Also if they were travelling on like a small ship then it'd probably be built for a Tall Motherfucker like Croc right)#(Robin's ability would just make the ship more accessible to her and Croc would find that independence good)#Robin still gets a codename because Croc can't have anyone realize who she is. Maybe she even wears like a mask or summin' in public #If Crocodile's openly trans and the news of him transitioning recently broke out. Like. No avoiding that convo eh #Baby Robin's like ''...I read in a book once that some reptiles can change sex but I didn't know crocodiles could do it too''#''💦.../Humans/ can't do that normally either''#''Hmmmm. Weird. I don't think being a girl would suit you though'' // ''...I'll take that as a compliment''#I just. I think they could have really cute interactions if they warmed up to each other after a little while #And I'm Extremely Normal about that

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zephyrchama · 29 days

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Asmodeus being overly expectant that MC is going to propose to him any day now for no reason.

It’s a quiet evening and the two are lazing around on the bed in Asmodeus’s room. New skin mask pouches have been opened and applied. New issues of each of the Devildom’s most popular fashion magazines lay scattered around.

MC rolls over until they bump into Asmodeus’ thigh and raise their magazine. “Hey, Asmo. What do you think of--” ”Yes.” There is no hesitation. “Yes, I think we should.”

Asmodeus throws down the magazine he was looking at to lean over and pepper MC’s face with kisses. “Let’s get engaged, right now!”

“Oh, okay, cool. I was just wondering what you thought of this top.”

“Oh... It’s kind of tacky. You’re not wearing that to our wedding, right?”

----

It’s dinnertime and, as usual, everyone is gathered around the large dining room table. MC is across the table and several seats down from Asmodeus, with most of his brothers seated between them.

MC’s plate is almost empty. They give the table a once-over look before deciding on a course of action that requires interrupting the current conversation.

“Pardon me, Asmo, will you-”

Asmodeus squeals and kicks his feet. “Yes! A thousand times, yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

“Wait, no that’s not what--”

“What!?” Mammon shouts, much to the chagrin of Lucifer next to him.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Belphegor quips.

Leviathan looks like he’s about to start crying.

Satan and Beelzebub, sane enough to not jump to conclusions, seem to piece together the situation. Together they work to pass MC a plate of dinner rolls that had been in front of Asmodeus.

“This what you wanted?” Satan asks.

“Yes, I was just asking for these,” MC sighs. Bread will serve nicely to sop up the remaining sauce on their plate. “Thanks.”

Asmodeus responds, “we can serve them at the reception, I think that’s fine.”

Mammon tells him to “get yer head out of the clouds, Asmo, nobody’s marrying you.”

Their mutual glares practically send sparks across the table.

“Pass them back this way,” Beelzebub requests, wanting three more for himself.

----

It’s the middle of the school day. MC pops their head into a classroom. This time they've mentally prepared.

“Asmo, do you wanna-”

"Yes? Yes! I’ll marry you.” As predicted, Asmodeus runs over and winds his arms around MC’s waist. He presses his forehead against theirs and leans them back into a dip. Several students clap. “Proposing to me at school? How brazen.”

“Well, maybe this time I’ll actually think about it, but you have to take me out for lunch first. Deal?”

Asmodeus looks somewhat stunned. He parts his lips and thinks over the proposition while staring into MC’s eyes, searching for any hint of a lie.

“Wait… Really?” He pulls MC back up and takes them by the wrist. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

#you can tell i'm still sick because it's in present tense again. why do i do this. i just want to write properly again.#I kept switching between “MC” and “you” and had to correct everything like 3 times so if i missed a spot... oops #this was better in my mind but i don't care i can always rewrite it. i just wanna write and keep my mind distracted while sick.#obey me swd #obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmodeus x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #obey me drabble

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oxenfreeao3 · 10 months

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There aren't many hobbies out there that are free to do, inherently creative, and capable of bringing joy to people all across the globe.

But that's why I love writing fanfiction.

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writers #romance writing #“why waste your time writing fanfic #creative writing #hobbies #oh and hobbies aren't supposed to be side hustles btw #“why waste your time writing fanfic? you can never publish or sell it” ok bozo why don't i abscond with every flower in your garden???#you are under no obligation to convert your creativity into capital

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brightnote · 8 months

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*gets to the chapter of the fanfic I have been most excited to write and have been setting up through countless chapters*

Me: *stares at blank screen*

Me: *starts a totally different fic*

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #writers block #i have it but why can't i get it out?#i am already writing two fics at once #this is so hard #i don't even have a social life anymore #i love you all though more than anything

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teastainedprose · 3 months

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Homelander x fem!reader

Homelander cumming in a pair of readers panties and reader finding out and wearing them in public or to work around Homelander

No explicit sex, but- What if cum sock, but it's panties? I didn't proofread this. Undercooked smut, whore(affectionate) used.

Homelander is disgusting, is your first thought as you pick up a pair of your panties. They're crunchy. None of that discharge is yours. You make certain to wash that pair twice.

The second time it happens you're annoyed. Third time? You're resigned to your fate. Now? It's expected. It's not as if you can ask the fucking Homelander to stop fapping with your panties

Sometimes the panties are clearly coated in a suspicious glaze, others there's only the barest scent of him before you toss the panties into the laundry bin. Those you don't mind so much. For the most part, you're resigned to your fate.

Homelander is a territorial creature. The man likes to mark you in any way he can. Sinking his teeth in a little too hard. Fingers digging in a little too tight. Practically rubbing himself against you as if to mark you with his scent and of course making certain your always stuffed full of his cum.

Thus it should be no surprise that the moment you walk into the penthouse that afternoon?

Homelander pounces you, strips you, and fucks you as if he hasn't seen you in weeks. It was four hours, jesusfuck you needy little- It's no surprise that even after your rough fucking? -because this round certainly was a rough fuck He still manages to find time to soil your panties. The ones you had carefully taken off and set aside before going at it like animals not even a full thirty minutes ago. The lacey number that matches your bra and won't show a pantyline in the dress you plan to wear tonight. Those panties.

The crime is committed while you were in the shower cleaning up, as there's a charity ball you two must make an appearance at tonight. The culprit has already fled the scene, of course. Bastard.

You pluck up your clearly wrung out panties, inspecting them. A visual once over reveals that at least your lovemaking had robbed Homelander the ability to truly mark up this pair. At worst, they reek of sex and him. Even your perfectly average nose can smell Homelander on the fabric. His super-abled nose would be able to smell it a mile away, you muse.

You pause, eyes on the panties as you turn over that fact in your mind. A low chuckle escapes you as you wriggle back into the panties.

It doesn't take long to get dolled up for the event as you make yourself presentable post-shower. You're polished, clean, and looking flawless. You smile at your reflection in one of the many mirrors within Homelander's penthouse before making your way to the elevator.

As you enter the party, Homelander isn't hard to pick out. He's the one in the middle of it all with a flock of sycophants simpering about the supe's feet. They know by now to part in your wake, placid smiles in place that never reach their eyes. Yet, they bow and scrape to you as well. No one would dare give offense to you or get between the Homelander and his woman.

You glide into Homelander's open arms as he throws you a winning smile, finger crooked for you to come closer. You obey, sliding an arm behind his back as his cape flutters with the movement while he tugs you closer into his side. "Missed you," He breathes as he leans closer.

The moment Homelander registers what you've done is obvious to you. His pupils blow out and there's an imperceptible tightening about the give of your waist under his gloved fingertips. He inhales deeper, leaning in to ghost his lips over your forehead as he does so. To onlookers, Homelander is a chaste and affectionate boyfriend. Only you are close enough to hear the growl on his exhale.

You grin wickedly up to Homelander, mirth dancing in your eyes. "You just saw me, you know." You mutter as you tilt your chin up, regarding him. Idly, you start to trace patterns at the small of his back with fingertips. Given your cheeky mood, you slide your palm down and give his backside an affectionate squeeze under the cover of his cape.

Homelander has to bite his bottom lip, swallowing down an eager noise as he shoots you a dangerous look. The sort that says you're going to get it later. Your grin only grows wider, because the event has only started and you know Homelander can't escape yet.

There's a speech to give, investors to schmooze, and rich bastards to wring dry all in the name of charity. Homelander performs admirably, playing the perfect boy scout as with you draped on his arm. His hands never stray from your waist, endlessly chaste. You know it's because if he lets them roam further up or down, Homelander will lose control and then where would you be?

Well-

Enjoying yourself for certain, but you've never been one for public sex.

The hours crawl on and you can see your choice to throw Homelander's mess back under his nose is an effective one. The small twitches, how he keeps inhaling deeply any time he leans close, how Homelander can't help but nuzzle into your neck every chance he gets with a storm cloud in his eyes.

This'll be a fun night.

The moment Homelander is let off the event's leash, he's all but dragging you to the elevator and mashing the button to the top floor. He doesn't even wait for the elevator's doors to fully shut before he's on you with a growl. Homelander is hiking up your dress in a flash to see what's underneath. His suspicions are confirmed. Those are the panties he used to work himself off one last time before heading down to the charity event.

"I knew it. You little whore," He chides affectionately as Homelander backs you up against the elevator wall. Those hands are ghosting around the edges of your panties before he unceremoniously yanks them down.

"It's your mess," You shoot back, smirking up at him.

"M'gonna make you such a mess," Homelander purrs back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, deftly lifting you up with one hand while the other works at the bucket of his belt with practiced ease. You laugh gleefully because Homelander is always a man of his word when it comes to properly ruining you.

#how many drabbles can I start with “Homelander is-”#homelander #homelander x f!reader #homelander x reader #homelander x you #x you #homelander smut #the boys fanfic #the boys smut #homelander writing #anon ask #ask #drabble #I don't know why the read mores keep MOVING in these asks

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anto-pops · 4 months

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The Serpent's Paramour - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: For the past five years, you've been traversing the Highlands in pursuit of ancient magic sites to master the all-consuming power from the repository. In the midst of your travels, you find yourself forced into an uneasy alliance with none other than Sebastian Sallow. He wants your help, but you want absolutely nothing to do with him.

At first, that is.

While the two of you learn to coexist in the same space again, you’re left wondering if you truly will be able to aid one another, or if your past mistakes will finally come to head after all these years and ultimately lead to your long awaited downfall.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+. aged up characters, canon-typical violence, kidnapping

Chapter 1 can also be found here on Ao3

You were getting really tired of running for your life.

During your fifth-year turning tail and booking it was often heavily warranted, especially because it was usually being done as a result of you waking up hordes of Inferi, or stealing important artifacts from dark wizards that would then be out for blood. You liked to think you had grown out of that habit, but tonight was proving to be something of a trip down memory lane.

You were being chased. Again.

Tucking your knees to your chest, you ducked down and rolled through mud at the same time a Bombarda curse blew up a chunk of the tree ahead of you. It was a close call, but you could hardly stop to survey the extent of the damage when you could still hear the thugs behind you giving chase.

“You daft idiots, grab her!”

Another spell struck the ground where you’d landed moments before, but you were already on the move– dipping and weaving in a bid to dodge the attacks that were fired blindly at your back. It made no sense; you had never been intercepted at an ancient magic site before, and as far as you were concerned, there was no reason for anyone to take interest in a dilapidated ruin. Aside from using the crumbling fortress as a makeshift base, no Ashwinders or poachers had ever been lying in wait in what was otherwise deemed an unremarkable location.

They had been this time, though. To make matters worse, they were looking for you specifically.

Your name had been like a battle cry from their lips as you’d exited the rundown site, and you hadn’t bothered to stick around to find out whatever the hell it was they wanted with you. If you weren’t so tired and weary, you would have apparated yourself to safety in a heartbeat, but splinching yourself as a result of your carelessness wasn’t exactly at the top of your to-do list. So, you had bolted straight for the edge of the forest, doing your best to avoid colliding with the low hanging branches that scratched at your cheeks and ripped at your cloak.

There was more yelling from behind you, only this time it sounded distinctly farther away. Chancing a look over your shoulder, you discovered that there was now ample distance between you and the goons chasing you, and you pivoted on your heels to head north for the river that separated the Clagmar Coast from Cragcroftshire. If you could reach the water, you would have a better chance of getting away and concealing your tracks in the process.

At least, you hoped you would.

Lungs aching, you pushed yourself harder, your arms pumping at your sides as you lept over a fallen log in your path, and though you stumbled a bit upon landing, you remained upright and pressed on. Another spell whizzed past your head– the heat from the Confringo curse nearly singing your matted hair– but you ignored it and focused wholly on running. It felt like an eternity had passed when you finally reached the colossal ravine, immediately trying to formulate a plan that would result in you on the other side with your pursuers left behind. There was no bridge to repair, no loose boulders to form into a levitating staircase, nothing. Panic began to fester in your mind for a heartbeat before you steeled your nerves and banished the feeling entirely. Hysteria wouldn’t help you right now– it never had.

“There– up ahead! Move your asses, dammit,” came the same voice from before. You turned to watch as a handful of masked assailants slid down the muddy embankment roughly fifty feet from you, and that sight alone spurred you into action.

Your wand was ripped from the holster on your thigh, and you channeled every bit of magic in your body into it as you aimed for the largest tree across the daunting trench in front of you. The Accio charm wrapped around the top of the monstrous trunk, and with every ounce of strength you possessed, you pulled. It seemed impossible at first, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and the foreign power from the repository surged to life to give you the assistance you gravely needed. There was a deafening crack as the wood began to splinter and give way under your ministrations, muting the onslaught of footsteps that grew nearer and nearer. With one final pull your efforts were rewarded, and the massive evergreen tipped towards you slowly before gravity caught up to it, sending it plummeting towards where you stood.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? It was a philosophical question– one that you had never thought about much before– but you had always assumed that with no one around, there would never be any way to know. Presently there were multiple people around, and as it turned out, a falling tree did make a sound.

As you dove out of the way, the pine covered top of the tree arched past where you had been standing, stretching over the shrinking space between you and the encroaching strangers behind you. Most of them saw the gargantuan tree heading straight for them and jumped out of the way, their shrill screams echoing throughout the forest and bringing a small smile to your face. A few others weren’t so lucky, and you watched as the peaked top of the tree swallowed them whole and buried them beneath a heavy thicket of pine needles.

Seizing your opportunity, you ran for the makeshift bridge and hauled yourself on top of the rough trunk, shoving and kicking at the spindly branches that stood in your way as you practically clawed your way through to the other side of the ravine. You didn’t dare look back, keeping your eyes trained ahead as you focused on maintaining your footing and not getting thrown off balance by your satchel.

It looked like a hurricane had torn through the earth when you finally emerged at the base of the tree. You hopped down and landed in the deep, root-riddled crater that had previously held the evergreen upright before running to the side to gauge where your attackers were. Most were still gathering their bearings while others attempted to drag their comrades out from under the suffocating weight of the branches. You hardly spared their survival a second thought as you pointed your wand at the center of the tree and cast, “Confringo!”

The flames grew rapidly and without mercy, frantic calls of “hurry” and “get them out of there” reaching your ears as you spun towards the forest and disappeared into the treeline. There was no knowing how much time you had bought yourself, but you weren’t about to squander any of it for a second.

You ran, and you did not look back.

***

One would assume that after two years of living in abandoned hovels and scrounging up scraps to eat with your bare hands, you’d be used to being cold, wet, and miserable. Hell, you had learned more about yourself since leaving Hogwarts than you’d ever thought possible, including just how resilient and resourceful you could be. Rain storms, stale bread, and a lack of clean water had never deterred you for long, and through all the trials and tribulations you found yourself facing, you always managed to pull through.

Tonight, however, you allowed yourself to be sullen.

The torrential downpour you’d been caught up in somehow managed to slip through the canopy of trees overhead, and as a result, you were encased in a cold, wet, dreary darkness. It had been two hours of trudging through mud and frigid temperatures, and by now you were caked in a thick layer of grime that you desperately wanted to rid yourself of. Charming away the mess was pointless– it wouldn’t be long before you were covered in muck once again– and you’d learned long ago that using magic while in the middle of a void forest was a bad idea, especially when you were trying to remain undetected.

After the events from earlier in the day, you had decided to head straight for the next site marked on your map to make camp and settle down for the night. However, you were still a day away from reaching the location, no thanks to the dark wizards that had chased you in the opposite direction. Your stubbornness and desire to reach your destination is why you currently found yourself on the outskirts of civilization, trying and failing to fend off the elements to get the journey over with, but the bone-deep chill that wracked your body was beginning to weaken your resolve.

You were exhausted.

Thunder rumbled overhead, long and loud amidst the sound of raindrops pelting against the dirt, and with a disappointed sigh, you made up your mind. If memory served you correctly, the town of Bainburgh was roughly a two mile walk west of the forest. Your paranoia told you it was too risky to set foot in a legitimate establishment, but your numb limbs and wet boots squashed your fears before they could come to head. Staying outside for the entire night would likely leave you dead, and there were few other options to choose from.

So, you marched. It took roughly forty minutes to traverse the jagged, rocky landscape in the dark, slowed down by the stray roots that stuck out of the ground and worked to trip you in your haste. By the time you made it into town, you were soaked to the bone and shivering violently enough that you were certain passersby could hear. The tavern was helpfully the largest building at the end of the road, and you headed straight for it without sparing any of the town’s denizens a second glance.

The warmth that greeted you as soon as you entered was beyond welcoming, and you tugged the door shut behind you before beelining straight for the firepit in the middle of the room. Your hands were so numb that you practically had to submerge them in the flames to feel any semblance of reprieve, and a few onlookers cast wary glances your way. Between the mud that coated your lower half and the water that dripped from every fiber of your clothing, you realized you had to look like a walking disaster, and that sobering thought had you tucking your hands under your armpits as you hurried to the bar at the back of the room.

The older gentleman wiping down the counter turned to face you, his aged face showing obvious alarm and concern when he caught sight of you. “Merlin’s beard girl, you look like you’ve been dragged straight through hell.”

You flashed him a bashful smile, though you were certain it looked like more of a grimace. “You could say that. You wouldn’t happen to have any rooms available for the night, would you?”

With practiced efficiency, he tossed the rag he’d been holding over his shoulder and shuffled over to the cabinet at the edge of the bar, opening the squeaky glass panel that housed the keys for the rentable rooms. “Ordinarily the answer would be no, but that damned storm blowing through has business movin’ slow. I’ve got two rooms left, one with a bath and the other without.”

Your heart soared as you hastily replied, “The one with the bath, please.” Without missing a beat, you snatched your weighty coin purse from your belt and dropped it on the wooden surface. The barkeeper raised his white, bushy brows in silent surprise as he tentatively picked up the drawstring sac, plucking ten gold pieces from within before handing it back to you. The bronze key he deposited in front of you had a wooden tag dangling from the end that read ‘13’, and for the first time in nearly two weeks you found yourself genuinely smiling as your fist closed around the cool metal.

“Up the stairs and on your left,” he instructed you. “Kitchen is open for another hour if you’re tryin’ to grab a bite before bed, but I’d wager you’re more interested in the runnin’ water.” The way his eyes fell to your soiled clothing didn’t escape you. You almost felt bad for tracking all the mud and water through the lobby.

Twenty minutes later, you had a warm loaf of bread and a small wedge of cheese tucked away in your bag as you ascended the rickety staircase. The decor within the aged tavern was modest, save for the silver plaques that adorned each door with their respective room numbers. Finding your own was a non-issue, and as soon as you were inside the sanctity of the rented space, you let loose a breath that you’d seemingly been holding since setting foot into town. Now wasn’t the time to let your guard down, but you weren’t about to turn your nose up at clean linens and running water.

Moving quietly, you stripped down to your undergarments and tossed your ruined clothing in the corner of the bathroom, then cranked the tub’s faucet to the highest setting and left it to fill. The bread from the kitchen had cooled some, but it hardly made a difference to you as you ripped off a piece and ate it with the cheese you’d purchased. Fresh food was a rarity for you these days, and you savored every bite as you paced the length of the room. With your hunger sated and your looming bath just around the corner, you allowed yourself to think back to the last few weeks, and you pondered just why dark wizards were looking for you.

Understandably, the whole situation reminded you of your fifth-year. Suddenly you were fifteen again, being hounded and hunted by Ranrok and Rookwood alike for simply existing. At that time they had wanted something from you; your abilities, your information, and most prudent of all, your silence. You’d known too much back then, but those times had passed, and both Ranrok and Rookwood were now dead– at your hands, no less.

So why would anyone be looking for you? Who were they to you? What did they want?

It wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest to discover that you had more enemies lurking in the shadows. The stunts you’d pulled and the things you’d gotten away with back then were bound to catch up with you, but you hated not knowing. The whole reason you’d left Hogwarts after graduation without so much as a word to anyone was precisely because you didn’t want your whereabouts known. The line between friend and foe had started to blur towards the end, though you acknowledged that it was mostly your fault.

You hadn’t turned Sebastian in, but you also hadn’t moved to stop Ominis from doing so.

With him imprisoned in Azkaban and Ominis reeling from the decision, it was no wonder the two of you had drifted apart in the years that followed. Anne’s curse worsening had only exacerbated Ominis’ feelings, and you’d graciously stayed out of his way anytime you saw him around school. Natty had never fully recovered from Harlow’s use of the Cruciatus curse on her, and your guilt had in turn driven you further away from her. Poppy was the only person you’d stayed in touch with for the remainder of your academic life, but she was too good a person to drag down with your… issues. You’d ultimately been the one to cut contact with her following your seventh-year, and while you’d felt bad about it at first, you knew it was for the best.

After tonight, that decision had proven to be the right one. If you really were being tracked, were any of your former friends targets for information? Did this impromptu, wild goose chase have anything to do with your volatile abilities from the repository? Had you unwittingly put them in harm's way simply because they knew you?

The bread in your mouth had gone soft, and you shook the pointless thoughts from your mind as you finished off your mediocre dinner and made for the bathroom. The warmth from the water was divine and single-handedly chased away any lingering doubts about holing up in a public place for the night. For just this once, you would gladly trade sleeping in the cold, wet dirt for the pending restlessness and paranoia that was bound to greet you, and greet you it did.

After climbing under the itchy but clean blankets, you stared wide eyed up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Every squeak of a floorboard, every booming laugh that echoed up the stairs, every shadow that darted past your window, all had your heart racing. Even after checking twice that the two points of entry were indeed firmly locked, your nerves wouldn’t steady. Your skin crawled with unease at the prospect of being blindsided in an unfamiliar place, and at one point you even began pacing the length of the tiny room just to tire yourself out.

Eventually, you came to a grinding halt at the foot of the bed, your hands curling into fists as you sucked down a slow, deep breath. “You’re fine,” you murmured to yourself. “You’re fine. It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re fine.”

Maybe if you repeated it enough times you would start to believe it.

The second time you crawled beneath the prickly sheets your brain was still running in overdrive, but you were far less fidgety than before. You had no clue how you managed it, but eventually your eyes drifted shut– and even if it ended up being a fitful bout of sleep, you would be grateful for the few hours of shut eye you managed to acquire.

Gratitude went right out the window, however, when you were startled awake by a whispered, “Petrificus totalus.”

Your body locked up– stiff and unable to move an inch below the scratchy covers– and before you even had the chance to glance in the direction of the disembodied voice, they whispered a different sort of charm.

One that made your world go dark.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow x female!reader #my writing #I have every intention of posting chapter 2 soon cause I'm not used to putting out short stuff and this shit is PUNY #sebastian isn't even in this chapter maybe that's why I don't vibe with it LMAO #wip: the serpent’s paramour #WIP TSP

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cluescorner · 1 month

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I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian al ghul wayne #batman #batfamily #for all of the issues that come with having Steph as your fave having too much wild shit happening at once is never one of them #btw I quite like The Boy Wonder Issue 1. wow shocker an artist and writer who I have liked everything they've ever done #has once again written something that I am enjoying with art that makes me want to be part of its world.#it's almost like Juni Ba is really freaking talented or something #like I have some problems with it but it seems like many of those are part of the point. Damian is learning that his siblings are more #three-dimensional than he realized and that is part of this 'coming of age' story merged with fairytale #so I can't be mad at the oversimplistic defining of Dick and Jason and Tim until the conclusion of the series. that might be the point.#I hope that the series will address Steph as a Robin but if not then frankly it's not an issue unique to this series.#I'll be annoyed and disappointed but ultimately roll with it like I am with Babsgirl being here. There's too much good stuff here to get #hung up on shit that seems to be almost an editorial mandate at this point. at least that's where I'm at.#I am also very sorry that Chip Zdarsky is massacring your boy. he has 'X (Tim for him) is the best Robin so everyone else must suck' diseas #where a writer really likes one specific Robin and in trying to uplift them demeans all of the other Robins. instead of like...just writing #for that one character only or alternatively not demeaning the other characters in order to make his blorbo look good #it's wild because I actually think his writing for Tim is pretty solid. but he's not writing a Tim series. he's writing a Batman series.#and if you are going to write a Batman series and include other Batfamily members you need to actually write them well.#instead of assigning them like 2 personality traits while Tim gets to be a whole character #I accept that behavior in fanfic where I have lesser standards because it's fucking free. not a comic run that wants me to pay #tens of dollars in order to understand what the fuck is going on. he's been going for a while now it's gotta be a lot of money.#I can buy Steelworks with that money. I can see John Henry and Natasha Irons in a trade. Fuck you Chip.#it's why it takes such a special person to write a good ensemble story/a good Batfamily story. you have to be good at writing a LOT #of different characters. which I don't think most people are. I sure as hell am not. I can write maybe 3 at a time confidently well.#and you also have to give all of them at least SOME love or else people will be upset that you aren't focusing on their fave #and also the writing as a whole will suffer. Chip Zdarsky is a pretty good Tim writer. I'd maybe read a Tim solo written by him.#I would not read a story focusing on multiple characters that I like written by Chip Zdarsky. because every character who isn't Tim #is at least a bit weak/inconsistent/out of character INCLUDING FUCKING BATMAN. THE NO. 1 GUY MOST ARE HERE FOR

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crown-ov-horns · 3 months

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Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

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nyushkawritesstuff · 4 months

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People be saying "minors dni" and then interact with stuff that was so painfully obviously written by a fourteen year old that came straight from wattpad smh

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

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Eddie Munson and the Worst Valentine's Day Ever Pairing: None. He's 8. Summary: Eddie Munson hates Valentine's Day. This is why. Contains: Hope, youthful excitement, things that won't last. Word Count: 1.2k-ish

It all started in the 2nd grade. On the night of February 13th, an 8 year old Eddie Munson sat at his Uncle Wayne's kitchen table with his favorite red marker and carefully filled out each classmate's name on his shiny new Scooby-Doo Valentine's Day cards. His classmates were going to be so impressed, at both his penmanship and the hilarious messages on the cards he'd begged Uncle Wayne for.

He double and triple-checked the spelling before placing the cards inside a bright red envelope he'd rescued from the trash, which Wayne had discarded after he'd taken out the coupons that came inside it. Eddie had spotted it on top of the pile and saved it, thinking it was the perfect vessel for keeping his cards safe. He placed his card-filled envelope inside his thick history book, so it wouldn't bend on his way to school the next day.

Things were going to be different this year. He lived with his Uncle Wayne now. Uncle Wayne made him take baths, and do his homework, and bought him pencils and paper for school, and never forgot to feed him dinner. He wasn't the weird kid who showed up with dirt on his neck and bruises on his arms and nothing to write with anymore. He was a new and improved Eddie.

This was gonna be his year.

The class Valentine's Day party was scheduled for the last thirty minutes of the day. When it was time, everyone would put their work away, and the teacher would pass out the cardboard mailboxes they'd decorated in art class, and everyone could deliver their cards. Someone's mom was even bringing in cupcakes and juice boxes! Eddie vibrated with excitement all day.

At 2:28, there was a knock on the classroom door. The cupcakes! Miss Harris told her students to put away their worksheets a whole two minutes early, not that anyone had been able to concentrate on them anyway, and went to the door. She opened it and welcomed not one, but two smiling mothers carrying sugary goods. Things were looking up for Little Eddie Munson.

Miss Harris called each row to come collect their mailbox from a table up front. Eddie jiggled his leg as he waited for his turn. His mailbox was so cool. His classmates had pounced on all the good stuff when the art teacher set them loose, so Eddie had gone home and dug through a stack of Wayne's old newspapers and fished out the funny papers. He'd spread them out on the living room floor and cut out the best ones, then brought them in the next day to glue on his mailbox. He even shared his leftover funnies with the kids at his table. They forgot to say "thank you", but Eddie let it slide, knowing that not everyone had someone as cool as his Uncle Wayne to teach them about life and manners and important things like that.

Once his teacher called his row, Eddie tried his best to be calm and walk slowly, but he was still the first to arrive at the table. His face fell when he got there. His mailbox had a dent in it that wasn't there last time he'd seen it. It was just an old shoebox, but one of the corners looked like it had been stepped on. Eddie was a little sad, and wondered what had happened to it, but the hole that one of the grown-ups had cut into the top for him looked like it was still useable. He brought it back to his desk a little slower than he'd gone to get it.

After everyone had their Valentine's Day mailboxes on their desks, Miss Harris told them to get out their cards. Eddie's smile returned as he carefully retrieved his brand new, neatly written, positively hilarious cards out of the red envelope safely stowed inside his history book. He placed them on his desk, folding his hands and waiting attentively for the next instruction.

When the teacher told everyone that they could begin delivering their cards, it was a free-for-all, and Eddie was right in the middle of it. He darted from desk to desk, dropping his cards in his classmates' mailboxes, grinning from ear to ear. It was so much fun, he was a little disappointed when he realized he'd delivered his last card. He returned to his desk in such an exhilarated mood that not even the smushed corner of his comic-covered mailbox could bring him down.

After everyone had returned to their assigned seats, the moms walked up and down the aisles and gave each student a cupcake - pink for the girls, red for the boys - and little box of fruit punch. Even in his excitement, Eddie remembered to say "thank you" like Uncle Wayne had taught him. The moms smiled at him.

The moms returned to the front of the classroom to sit with the teacher, who told the class to dig in. Everyone tore the lids off their boxes at the same time, cupcakes temporarily forgotten. Eddie was uncharacteristically careful with his own box, not wanting to damage it further.

He removed the top slowly… and saw nothing in the bottom portion of his box. He flipped the lid over, wondering if his cards had gotten stuck, and was met by the sight of more plain, undecorated cardboard. He looked around at all his classmates, tearing open their piles of Valentine's Day cards and laughing with colored frosting staining their lips. No one even looked at him.

Eddie wondered what he'd done wrong. He was friendly. He was clean. He even thought he was pretty funny. He said "please" and "thank you" and opened doors for girls and teachers. He'd filled out 17 cards last night. Why didn't he even get a single one back?

But 8 year old Eddie didn't know how cruel children could be. He didn't know how easily they latched on to things grown-ups said. He didn't know that Robby Hagan overheard his dad talking on the phone about what filthy, no-good criminals those Munsons were. And he didn't know that Robby, the most popular boy in class, had instructed all his friends to "ignore the trailer trash" earlier that week on the playground, while Eddie was busy rescuing a worm that had washed onto the sidewalk during the storm the night before.

Eddie sat quietly at his desk and fought back tears as time dragged on. When the bell finally rang and class was dismissed, he placed his untouched cupcake and fruit punch inside the crushed box. He put on his backpack and rushed to the door, struggling to open it and hold the box at the same time. His classmates laughed behind him.

Eyes bleary with tears, he ran through the halls toward the nearest exit. He bumped into a few bodies, but didn't stop to apologize, because he knew that once his tears started to fall, they wouldn't stop. He didn't want anyone to see him cry.

When he finally burst through the door and into the chilly February air, he dumped his poor crushed mailbox in the big garbage can outside the entrance, cupcake and all. With his head down and his hands empty, he began walking home. The dark sky suddenly opened up and began to rain on him, soaking through his thin t-shirt in seconds. He'd forgotten his jacket in his locker. This resulted in a most miserable cold, which left him sniffling for two long weeks.

Eddie Munson hated Valentine's Day.

But wait! There's more! Check out Eddie Munson and the Best Anti-Valentine's Day Ever, AKA the much happier high school sequel!

#writings of despair #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x valentine's day #I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS CAME FROM #OR WHY I DID THIS TO HIM #but i'll make it better! i promise!

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graveyardgremlins · 8 months

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Some memes about Chapter 9 of two slow dancers, last ones out on ao3, which will be posted today

I'm going to have to add more tags to the fanfic and some warnings because I was not prepared for the things I would write lmao (but seriously, if you're going to read chapter nine check the updated tags)

#dead on main #danny phantom #dp x dc #fanfic #jason todd #danny fenton #dp x dc fanfic #dead on main ship #fanfic writing #tsdloo #I'm sorry I don't know why this happened lol #this is like a premiere #I hope you guys enjoy it (cry)#go absolutely crazy about this chapter #also this is not based on the issue of Batman that came out recently #I just decided to torture jason coincidentally at the same time as dc lol #though bruce is a good dad in this fanfic #so if you like that and havent read you might want to lmao

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fearandhatred · 3 months

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oh hi. this did not in fact take only an hour to write but hey it's done! any support is so so appreciated <3

also thread of me lowkey liveblogging myself (not) writing this lmaoo

Summary:

A fun little side perk of being a demon is that Crowley only gets to see the world in shades of grey. That is, until that world is touched by one particular angel.

They say that it's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing. That's a partial truth, at least for him. The landing did hurt—his bones had shattered almost methodically, travelling through his legs and up his spine like a shiver; the whiplash from his head hitting the ground had felt like an explosion of guts in his mouth. But the fall had hurt, too. Because the wind had cut into his useless wings like knives, his skin and grace peeling away under the friction, and he had been looking right up at the multicoloured and unreachable expanse of sky just to see it fade from his eyes into dull greys. And that was that. For the indiscriminate time afterwards, he and all the other demons wandered Hell's corridors like strays, lost and trying to adjust to a new life where hope looked just as bleak as despair. They wore all black, because the identifiability of that darkest shade meant that they wouldn't have to worry about clashing colours. An inconsequential problem, maybe, almost laughable in its insignificance, but it was the one piece of self-dignity they could still control. Back then, that was everything.

#fearandhatred #fearandfics #fic: sunflower fingerprints #honestly i feel like i could do/have done so much more with this #but i don't wanna overthink it lol i didn't even have the time to write this fic #also one reason this took longer to write was because i did research!! into the hindu festival of colours #i knew about it already and i've always found it magical but i wanted to make sure i got my facts straight before writing about it #i hope i did it justice #honestly a coincidence that i remembered this festival existed while writing this lmao. and it turned out to be so significant to the story #so yay!#oh and if you saw my thread. update i'm not even going for the test lmfaooooo good riddance #good omens #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #writing

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biblically-accurate-pirates · 24 days

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tips for writing law as a surgeon in a modern AU

the US medical system, and especially medical training, is a mess of incomprehensible rules and timelines. surgery training ESPECIALLY. and accurate information can be weirdly hard to find! so without further ado, here's a list of random factoids that i thought would be vaguely useful to have in one place

Some basic terms:

Attending: boss doctor, fully trained and certified. Often intimidating.

Resident: worker doctor, still finishing training. They usually do the majority of the actual work in surgeries, especially as they advance.

Intern: first-year resident. Their schedule is slightly different because every intern in every specialty has to meet a few requirements. They’re also limited in what medications they prescribe until they take a big test (usually at the end of the year).

Junior resident: first 2 years of training. They do more of the paperwork (writing notes, calling other doctors, admitting patients) and floor work (changing wound dressings, seeing new patients, checking on old patients if there’s an issue)

Senior resident: 3+ years of training. They check on the juniors to make sure they’re doing everything right, and generally do more operating and interacting with the attendings.

Chief resident: resident on their last year of training/just out of training. In many specialties there’s only one, but usually, every 5th year surgical resident is a chief. Treated as attendings in many cases, they also build the schedule for the other residents.

Fellow: fully certified doctors doing additional training in a sub-specialty. Common surgical fellowships are trauma/critical care surgery, colorectal surgery, surgical oncology, and cardiothoracic surgery.

Service: a team of doctors from one specialty who admit, operate on, and follow up with patients for one specific problem.

On service/off service: “on service” residents are working on the team within their own specialty (a surgical resident who’s working on the general surgery team this month). Off-service residents are on a team outside of their primary specialty (an anesthesiology resident on the general surgery team). Anesthesiology, urology, plastic surgery, transitional year, and sometimes family medicine residents have to rotate through surgical teams. These residents pretty much never operate and only handle paperwork and floor work.

Please, for the love of god, forget everything you saw on Grey’s Anatomy

I’m begging you. It’s so inaccurate.

Scrubs is decent tbh

Dating patients is a HUGE no-no, especially for surgeons. Surgeons and psychiatrists are the two specialties where it is a top-tier ethical violation to ever date anyone who has ever been your patient. With other specialties (especially in rural areas) it’s generally okay, though still a little frowned upon, to date someone who’s a former patient, but you also can’t ditch someone as a patient just to date them.

Also: surgeons deal with poop so much more than you can imagine. Would you, a normal person, ever want to date someone who wakes you up at 5am to ask you very seriously if you’ve pooped yet, press super hard on your still healing incisions, and leave? No. You would not.

Surgical training is long AF. in the US you need to get through a bachelor’s degree (3-5 years), a MD/DO degree (minimum 4 years, often longer), general surgery training (minimum 5 years, up to 7 pretty regularly if people do research), and maybe fellowship (about 2 years). That’s a minimum of 12 years of training, after graduating high school at 18 years old. If you’re writing law as an attending (boss doctor) he’d need to be at least 30 years old, and if you’re writing him as a specialist he’d need to be 32.

Attending schedules vs resident schedules:

Residents work around 80 hours a week, often more. They switch services every month, and work all over the hospital. The work year starts in July and ends in june. Residents get either new years or christmas off, never both. residents have to get an average of one day off every week, and having both weekend days off is called a “golden weekend”. Also, most surgeries are at seven AM, so residents get to the hospital around 4:30/5am to see patients, write notes, and get ready for the surgeries.

Attendings have more control over their schedule. Surgeons still work over 40 hours a week, more if they’re on a busy inpatient service. Generally, when they’re not covering the inpatient service, they’ll have 3-4 days a week of operating, a day of clinic, and a day of administrative work or research if they’re doing other projects. Attendants also take calls, which is when they supervise residents and do emergency surgeries for 24 hours straight. If they’re lucky they don’t actually spend the full 24 hours awake and working, but they’re rarely lucky. On some services, (especially trauma) there is Q3 or Q4 call, which means the surgeons work 24+ hours every 3 or 4 days. It’s brutal.

What certain specialties actually do:

This is very Law specific and one of my pet peeves. “Heart surgeons”, who are cardiothoracic surgeons, are kinda boring imho and don’t fit the law's vibe. (all cardiothoracic people will, of course, disagree with me). They do some very cool, very intense open-heart surgeries, but they also do pretty much everything inside the chest cavity. So that means things like repairing a hernia in someone’s esophagus, or messing with the diaphragm. But that’s all pretty controlled surgery and they’re very limited in what else they can do.

Trauma surgeons, on the other hand, are “emergency room surgeons”. They’re the ones who handle all of the super serious surgical injuries that come into the emergency department. They’re the ones who will fix someone if they have a gunshot wound and are bleeding out, or stabilize someone who was hit by a truck and broke all of their bones, or will open up someone’s chest cavity and use their hands to physically squeeze a heart to make it start beating again. They’re wild. They’re also usually chronically sleep deprived and have a thick veneer of “i give no fucks”. Very law.

anyway WOW that got long but i hope this was helpful to someone!!!

#one piece #trafalgar law #writing advice-ish #long post #modern au #because why get a medical education if not to write painfully accurate fanfics #disclaimer i'm not actually surgeon and I don't want to be one lol #if you have questions or want more additions hit me up \

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