#scream into the void: ask raven

[coldsaturn]

hiii! i have a question i thought you might be able to answer: how did aftg originally get so popular? i know it was mostly word of mouth on tumblr (still is, i think) (who says this website is unmarketable!!) but what were the early days of the fandom like? personally i've "only" been here since 2016, and by then the series was already decently popular. i remember at that time that the fandom was really welcoming and kind in a way that felt really exceptional to me, and it definitely contributed to me picking up the books, which is the only explanation i can really think of for why it got a bigger following than some to other books which did receive a whole big-publisher marketing campaign aside from it just being well-written. do you have any theories for why it got so massive on here? and do you know how the first readers found it? i hope you don't mind me asking you this, but i remember your blog from wayyyy back when and thought that if anyone had the answer, it would probably be you :)

Hello! I always get so happy when I can talk about the early days of the fandom <3 Sit down here around the fire, let me tell you about this wondrous tale.

So, story time: it was spring 2013, I had just finished a thorough read of In The Company Of Shadows and I was starving for another black hole. It was automatic for me to look up the goodread lists ICoS was featured in, to see what other titles I could pick up, and ended up on the list called "Online M/M stories that deserve to be published". The Foxhole Court was right there (it's not anymore because it IS published <3), so I read it. That was the start of the end lmao

If I remember correctly I didn't wait too long before reading TRK, but TKM didn't come out until the end of the following year, so in the meantime I all but shelved it as something that had incredible potential but that was possibly doomed to never be completed. Fast forward I think the start of 2015 when I accidentally stumbled upon TKM and I couldn't believe I could finally know how the story ended. Nora had a blogspot where she talked about the books (including updates between TRK and TKM), and I remember trying to get as much info as I could on this series. And that was it. For a bit.

So, by the first half of 2015, the fandom was made by people commenting on her blogspot, on her livejournal, the book pages on goodreads, and Ao3 literally had 2 fics ( webarchive gives you what we saw - btw Don't Speak Against The Sun is FIRE and instantly became a new standard for f/f for me). You can still find all this content online. Tumblr had a handful of scattered posts about TFC, mostly Nora's mutuals/friends on tumblr, and a couple of readers screaming into the void with no one answering their call.

I was pretty active on here, especially in the bellarke fandom, and I engaged with mutuals and other blogs often enough that I knew if I talked about something, at least someone would reply. A mutual was reading The Raven Cycle and got me curious enough to liveblog it myself. Instant love, of course, and if you've read TRC you know how strong the found family vibe is. So at the end of my liveblog (we've reached July 2015) I threw out a comment where I recommended AFTG as another worthy title. With the first book being free while the other two were only a dollar each, it sounded a fairly easy commitment. One mutual decided to read it (if you're reading, hi!!!) and liveblog it, and that got the party started.

A party of 2, and I'm not kidding. While we chatted and made up headcanon after headcanon on the phone, the intention was to get others interested in this story. But they'd never do it if there wasn't enough content around to engage with and motivate them to blog themselves, so we started with quote posts, liveblog reactions, a few timid edits and poems. An important choice was figuring out which tag to use (at the time tumblr search only scrolled through tags, not post content): "all for the game" was an actual sports tag, "the raven king" was the title announced for the next TRC installment, "the king's men" was the last book of the trilogy and it wasn't even the free one, so we settled for "the foxhole court" which was an empty tag. Even now my blog content is organized around "tfc" because of it, even though we took over all the relevant tags. A couple other mutuals I had from bellarke fandom got curious as well, and now we could consider ourselves a proper group. We were so starved for fan content that whatever you put out would be automatically reblogged and enthusiastically engaged with. It was a happy little fandom bubble. Then Nora noticed us and started interacting with us, and you got the birth of what would become the extra content page as she replied to our questions.

I possibly had a little bit too much time on my hands because I appointed myself as fandom archivist and tour guide. I reblogged every single post I saw in the tags, and I started a welcome page where I could keep track of everyone announcing they were reading the series. It was meant as a way to find mutuals to interact with since tumblr hadn't yet "canonized" all the tags, and it was entirely possible to lose each other in dashboard chains. I used to reply to everyone reading the series by "officially" welcoming them into the fandom, linking them the page where they could find mutuals, Nora's blog, and the extra content present up to that point. Oh and there was a fictional exy team where you could choose your position and then put it in your blog for fun or roleplay it. I also used smashword's gift system to buy the series for whoever said they couldn't pay for it, just to try and avoid pirating the book (good for word of mouth, bad for sales). This was on my side, but this fandom had so many people pouring their entire heart out I still get emotional thinking about it.

Everyone (before January 2016) made as much content as they could, be it meta, fanart, fanfics, headcanons, edits, wikia pages etc. We had fandom challenges where we pronounced the names of the characters and aftg keywords with our native accent, others where we said our favorite scene. Every headcanon was the first headcanon ever seen in the fandom. The fun thing was that at the time there was a strong etiquette toward "if you have nothing nice to say then don't say anything" so fan content really went in all directions with basically no limits. We tagged for triggers and that was it, we had free reign. For those who were around at the time, the sin squad was a group of us fans churning out the saddest/filthiest/fluffiest/most problematic content we could think of.

Then we reached January 2016. We were around 300 in the fandom at that point (I know because I counted them, literally), it had been slow but constant growth where each new fan brought at least other two people with them, and we had around 20 posts per day in the main tag. Then someone bridged the gap between us and the TRC fandom. If you ask me how the fandom got really popular, that's it. The TRC fandom was stuck in hiatus waiting for The Raven King, and now you had 300 rabid foxes spamming aftg content on tumblr, using trk as tag, too. Popular fanartists that were active in that fandom helped making aftg known, and semi viral posts did the rest. We went from 300 to 700 people in a couple of months, and shortly after I had to stop adding people to the welcome page because the post broke. I didn't even know that could happen. It wasn't long after that we were featured in the tumblr end of year recap for book ships. We were so many it was suddenly possible to meet in real life! Cosplays, tattoos, merch. You name it, someone in the fandom did it.

But how did it feel when we were only 20 people and a cardboard dog cutout? It felt like the most chaotic book club ever, and every new fan was automatically a friend. Nostalgia is a lying bitch, but I really don't think I'm making shit up here. We had fun and made great memories.

By the way, if you want to see how things were in 2015, you can! Just go through my archive starting from July 2015 (I think 17th) and onward. You can also search my blog for the tags "fandom history" and "started from nothing and now we're here", whereas here you can find a list of aftg fandom tags I used.

Tl;dr We were starving for good content, we wanted to have fun together, and we were lucky enough to half-hijack a bigger fandom in hiatus. That was all the marketing AFTG needed on tumblr.

[storywriter007]

You'll Remember Me - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n suffers the consequences of her and percy's tragic tale

warnings: cursing, heartbreak, character death, betrayal

genre: angst

word count: 869

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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as y/n killed the monster, she felt herself get cut on the gut. she fell backwards and placed her hand on her stomach. she stood up shakily, lifting her sword. they were in the middle of a battle, she couldn't die now. she tried to swing, but her attempts were weak. she tried to walk, but her feet dragged. she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. she looked at the cut that had grazed her abdomen, and realized it wasn't from any blade, it was from a poisonous spike on the monster. she'd been poisoned. she desperately searched the perimeter for someone who could help.

she saw her best friend, swinging rapidly and summoning hurricanes.

"percy!" she yelled.

he looked over, concern washing over his face, but he made no attempt to come her way. annabeth ran up and grabbed his arm.

"percy, this place is falling apart! we need to leave, now!" she yelled.

pieces of the ceiling began to fall as flames erupted. percy stayed in his spot. annabeth said something to him. y/n couldn't figure out what it was, but his gaze softened as he nodded his head. the two of them ran towards the exit. y/n laid on her side as the temperature rose. exhaustion took her over.

he had left her. her best friend, for six years, had left her to die. where was his loyalty now, when she needed it?

but y/n understood he had shown his loyalty. just not to her, to his girlfriend. to annabeth. and now she'd die, because his loyalty was her betrayal.

y/n felt blood spew out of her mouth. she was going out the way she had always wanted to, guns blazing in the middle of a fight that made a difference. it wasn't an unsatisfactory death. suddenly, y/n heard a voice.

"y/n!" the familiar voice called out. "don't give up on me!"

somebody desperately tried to drag her out of the burning building. she felt the concrete graze against her skin as the weak force tried to save her. he pulled her out and laid her in front of the broken building. she was barely alive.

"she doesn't have much time left!" he panicked. "c'mon y/n, just give me five minutes, we're going to get you to the ship and everthing's going to be okay!"

she knew the voice. she knew who it was. it was the boy she'd befriended when he was young. she'd practically been his sister. she knew it was nico di'angelo. he had come back for her. she felt another person kneel down by her. she could she his raven black hair and his sea green eyes.

"what the fuck percy!" nico yelled. "how could you do this! it was just the three of you!"

"i had no choice nico!" he defended.

"liar!" he screamed. "you told me the same thing when my sister died! and, now, now, i'm going to lose the only person who has ever cared about me because of you!"

y/n could tell nico was on the verge of tears.

"please, y/n, don't leave me now." percy pleaded.

"i've loved you a long time, percy. ever since you and i went on our first quest when we were eleven." she said, using her remaining energy to give a confession she should've given a long time ago. "it broke me to see you with annabeth. it still does."

"y/n.."

"you'll live a long time, percy. years without me." she continued. "you'll find camp half-blood strangely void, because when you come to find me, i won't be there."

he looked at her with tears in his sea green eyes. oh, those beautiful eyes.

"you'll remember me. when you see the stars, when you look at our photos, when you see friendship bracelets, when you talk to your mother and she'll ask, 'why don't we go visit y/n? she's only a block away.' always, your heart will be yearning for me." she paused. "and your mind will give you the unconvincing comfort that you had no choice." she spat, bitterly.

he kneeled besides her, speechless.

"nico." she said, lifting her hand up to hold his. she felt weak. "i'm sorry you have to see me like this."

tears fell from his eyes.

"but, i want you to know that i believe in you. i have faith in you. i always have, and i always will." she paused, knowing these were her last words. "you are a hero."

she felt her eyes shut.

"y/n!" nico shook her. "y/n!"

she didn't awake, she felt herself drifting.

"you destroy everything that matters to me!" nico screamed at percy. "you're a fucking monster!"

she felt at peace. she felt as if she was above the cruel world of unfair gods and tortured children.

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percy sat next to annabeth in his home. the war was over. the demi-gods had won. but at what cost?

"percy." sally called.

"yeah?" he responded.

"why don't we go visit y/n? she's only a block away." sally asked, placing cookies in a box for the first real friend her son had ever made.

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hope you guys liked it :) just had to remind you guys that i am an angst writer

yes i did reference dangerously yours

[secondtolastrow]

And every day I think about Summer Rose and Raven Branwen.

Their first day, in that forest, Summer stutters a little over her words—at seventeen, she’s still working on her shyness, and she absolutely never grows out of her hatred of being photographed—and Raven laughs and asks if she’s scared.

(Not of the Grimm, no, but a little. Far less than Raven herself is.)

And that’s how their partnership starts.

Raven desperately wants someone to notice that Summer isn’t perfect, which Summer can’t understand because it feels like her flaws are right there on her fucking sleeve, who cares about if she doesn’t lie where her homework went, doesn’t go to parties except when Tai and Qrow promise there’ll be good music, doesn’t show up to class late with a wild glint in her eye, doesn’t—

Summer screams, and then her hands are pressed over her eyes as she swears she didn’t mean to do that, that she doesn’t know what that was, that she didn’t do that, please is Raven okay is Raven okay what happened is Raven okay?

And Raven looks at this girl who just turned a horde of Grimm to stone for her and admits, for the first time, that she might not be able to kill her.

She tells Qrow to get moving, harsher than she maybe should, but he takes her meaning and sprints out like the Grimm are still on his tail, and Raven grabs Summer—still swaying like a drunken tree in a hurricane, even down on her knees—and holds her up.

“I’m here,” she says. “I’m okay.”

Summer lets go of her own face to grab at Raven’s, her eyes opening again, still shining unnatural silver. Raven is pale and dirty and definitely not okay—her Aura already broke once and there’s a nasty wound on her side—but it won’t be long before she can get them to Qrow. Or…

“Ticket anywhere,” she says, quietly, an offer just for the two of them. A way out of facing the world, if the consequences for what her eyes did (if the why of what her eyes did?) scares her that much.

She can’t really offer anywhere, but she can get them far enough away from here that it’s the same thing.

Summer’s eyes skim the field quickly, not quite focused. “Qrow?” she croaks, like she hadn’t even heard.

And that’s that.

It takes a while after that before Raven screams that they don’t even want them here. Freezes. Dives straight out the dorm room window like they aren’t on the second floor and Summer turns on Qrow and his face is bloodless pale but he tells them what Raven meant nonetheless, and suddenly she can feel it. There’s a line stretching through the void, a thread tying her heart to her partner, a link that will let Raven slash through the fabric of reality like tissue paper.

She can feel Raven, her partner, the flip side to her coin, and she wants her there so badly it aches.

She has to track her the hard way instead. To find her. Sit beside her. She offers her hand and Raven scoffs and Summer rolls her eyes so hard it feels like something might break and says, “Stop.”

And she brings Raven back, the way she always will, right up until she can’t.

[callmemonster68]

lunar curse | l.hs - heeseung

The lunar eclipse has always been a fascinating spectacle, but for some, it was more than an astronomical phenomenon — it was a wake-up call.

Challenge: Under the Spell of the Moon secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68

paring: !heeseung x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 1,637

warnings: nsfw content, unprotected sex

Since adolescence, Y/N had been haunted by enigmatic dreams — fiery touches, forbidden kisses, and an inexplicable void.  But nothing prepared her for the moment she locked eyes with Heeseung.  The attraction was instant, overwhelming… and frighteningly familiar.

He knew.  From the very first moment.  As if he had been waiting for her.  As if they had met before.

But the desire that unites them also condemns them.  Trapped in an unrelenting cycle of passion and tragedy, they will have to challenge dark forces to break the curse before the blood moon brings the inevitable conclusion.

Y/N never paid much attention to the strange dreams that had been haunting her since adolescence.  Faceless men, hot kisses that made her gasp even in her sleep, and an overwhelming despair that made her wake up in a cold sweat.  Always the same feeling of loss, of something she couldn’t touch.  But when her eyes met Heeseung’s for the first time, something inside her broke.  A shiver ran down her spine, and her heart raced in a mix of desire and fear.

He smiled.  As if he already knew.  As if he had already been waiting for her.

Heeseung: You felt it, didn’t you?  (he whispered, his voice deep and hoarse) Now tell me, do you remember me?

Y/N didn’t know what to say.  But her traitorous body reacted before her mind did.  Her skin burned under his gaze, and a hazy memory danced in her mind — lips touching hers, hands holding her body with a mix of reverence and possessiveness.

Y/N: Who are you?

She managed to ask, despite the overwhelming pressure inside her.

Heeseung: Your destiny.  (he brushed a finger along the line of her jaw, slowly approaching) And perhaps your downfall.

The more Y/N tried to ignore her attraction to Heeseung, the stronger it became.  Something about him called to her, like a magnet pulling her towards an abyss she couldn’t avoid.  His gaze felt like fire on her skin, and his presence was suffocatingly intense.

One night, the full moon illuminated the city, and Heeseung appeared at her door.

Heeseung: Don’t fight it.  (he said, his eyes shining with a mix of urgency and desire)

Y/N recoiled.

Y/N: I don’t even know what that is.

Heeseung: But your body knows.

He advanced, cornering her against the wall.  His fingers slid along the curve of her neck, descending to her waist.  She should push him away.  She should run.  But he couldn’t.

His lips brushed against hers, soft as a provocation.

Heeseung: Let me remind you…

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t an ordinary kiss.  It was something primal, ravenous.  Something that activated memories that were not yet fully formed, images of other lives, other nights like that one.  And then, the pain came.  A memory crossed his mind like a sharp blade — blood, screams, betrayal.

She pushed Heeseung, her eyes wide.

Y/N: I… I killed you.

Heeseung watched her in silence.  He already knew.  Always knew.  But hearing her words was like feeling the blade once more.

Heeseung: Yes, (he confirmed) In another life.

Y/N felt the dread grow inside her.

Y/N: Why?

Heeseung: Because we were cursed.  (he held her face between his hands) Every time we meet, our desire consumes us, and one of us dies.  I tried to avoid you in this life, but… I couldn’t.

She stepped back, tears threatening to fall.

Y/N: So is that it?  Are we doomed?

Heeseung shook his head.

Heeseung: Not this time.  I will break this cycle.  Even if I have to do something unthinkable.

The eclipse was near.  The decisive moment.

Heeseung discovered that there was a way to break the curse: one of them needed to completely take the other’s life energy.  It was cruel.  It was unfair.  But it was the only way to finally end that cycle of pain.

Y/N stood between him and the reddish moon, their body trembling.

Y/N: You wouldn’t do that to me…

He approached, his eyes heavy with desire and anguish.

Heeseung: I would do anything to save you.

And then, in a swift motion, he pulled her into his arms, their lips meeting once again.  But this time, the kiss tasted like goodbye.

The shadows of the moon enveloped them, and destiny was about to be rewritten.

The pain hit Y/N like a sharp blade.  Not because of Heeseung… but because of another presence.  Shadows emerged around them, and a cold laugh cut through the silence of the night.

?: You will never learn, (the voice echoed in the air)

From the midst of the darkness, a man appeared.  His eyes were the color of an eclipse — an intense, bright, hypnotic red.  He exuded power, his smile laden with cruel amusement.

Heeseung stood in front of Y/N, his fists clenched.

Heeseung: Minjun…

The name made Y/N’s blood run cold.  Minjun…  The guardian of the cycle.  The true architect of the curse.

He walked slowly towards them, examining Y/N as if he were seeing something fascinating.

Minjun:  This time, you started remembering early, dear.  That changes things.

Y/N: Why are you doing this?  (she managed to ask, her voice trembling)

Minjun raised an eyebrow, as if he found the question amusing.

Minjun: Because I like the game.  You run, fight, love… die.  And then everything starts over.  And each time, it’s more… flavorful.

The air became heavy.  Heeseung squeezed Y/N’s hand, his voice came out tense.

Heeseung: We’re not playing your game this time.

Minjun sighed.

Minjun: Ah, but you have no choice.

He extended his hand and, in a second, Heeseung screamed.  His body was pulled back, as if invisible forces were tearing him apart from the inside.  Y/N ran to him, but Minjun grabbed her by the wrist, moving dangerously close.

Minjun: Now, my dear,  (he whispered against her skin, his lips touching her ear) Let’s see if this time you choose differently.

Destiny was not about to be rewritten.  He was about to be completely destroyed.

Fear took over her.  But then, something happened.

The moon shone brighter, as if responding to the call of her blood.  A different heat grew inside her, pulsing under her skin.  An energy that had always been there, but had never fully awakened.

Minjun took a step back, his red eyes narrowing.

Minjun: What…?

Y/N couldn’t explain what was happening, but for the first time, she felt the power.  And this time, she wasn’t going to run away from it.

The shadows around dissolved.  The wind swirled violently.  And then, with a scream, she let everything go.

The night exploded in light.

Minjun roared when Y/N’s energy hit him.

Minjun: This… this isn’t possible!  (he shouted, his form trembling)

Y/N felt their strength growing.  The moon pulsed above them, feeding her body with a power she had never imagined possessing.  She raised her hand and, with a movement, threw Minjun back.

He fell onto the ruins of the ancient temple, his face twisted with hatred.

Minjun: Do you think you can beat me?

Y/N: I will win.  (declared, his voice firm)

Minjun advanced towards her, but this time, she was ready.  The battle had begun, and this time, the cycle would be broken — once and for all.

And then Y/N’s energy hit him again.  He tried to resist, but silver sparks cut through the air around him, burning like live embers.

Minjun tried to cast a shadow towards her, but Y/N raised her hands, channeling the moonlight into a blinding glare.  The power pierced through the body of the curse guardian, burning every part of him.  Minjun screamed, his form beginning to disintegrate.

Minjun: You will never escape the cycle!  (he roared)

Y/N: I just did that.

Y/N replied coldly.  With one final push, she released all the energy within her, and Minjun exploded into thousands of particles of black dust that dissipated into the night.

The moon shone one last time before returning to its usual silvery tone.  The air around was lighter.  The weight of destiny had been lifted from his shoulders.

Heeseung, still lying on the ground, slowly opened his eyes.

Heeseung: You… you did it.

Y/N knelt beside him, holding his face.

Y/N: We did it.

He smiled, tired but free.  For the first time in centuries, they were just themselves.  No curses, no shadows.

Heeseung: So, what happens now?  

Y/N pulled him in for a soft kiss, but full of promise.

Y/N: Now, we live.

And living meant more than just existing.  It meant feeling, touching, loving without fear.  For the first time, there were no invisible chains holding them back.  Just the freedom to be who they were, together.

In the room, Heeseung slid his hands over Y/N’s soft skin, exploring her as if he wanted to memorize every detail.  He laid her on the bed, kissing her slowly as he undressed her, before trailing his lips down her breasts and belly.  His touch was reverent, but his mouth was demanding when he finally tasted her, eliciting muffled moans from her lips.

Y/N held Heeseung’s hair, her body arching as she felt his tongue sliding against her center.  The pleasure consumed her, and when he finally came up to kiss her, she reversed their positions, quickly undressing him, kissing him completely, descending down his body with the same hunger and dedication.

Heeseung groaned softly when he felt Y/N’s lips enveloping his hard member, his breath heavy as he clutched the sheets.  The desire between them grew, each touch increasing the tension that threatened to break them.

When he pulled her up again, he positioned her under his member and penetrated her slowly, both gasping with the intense sensation.  Their bodies moved in sync, each thrust deepening the connection between them.

Heeseung: You are mine…

Y/N: I’ve always been.

They changed positions, exploring every sensation, every angle, until they finally melted into each other’s arms, sated and free.

In the twilight of the night, under the moon that no longer bore a curse, they surrendered to the only thing that had always united them: the love that had withstood the test of time.

And this time, there were no goodbyes.  Just a new beginning.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[litmot-archived]

Elias x traitor barista??🤧

I've Got Your Coffin

Elias x traitor!Reader

It had not been easy, but entirely worth it. The way Elias smiled at you from across the table was sickeningly sweet, swirling the spoon in his double caramel macchiato with a drizzle of cinnamon and chocolate chips on top — you were a barista for a good reason — and looking at you with the eyes of a fool utterly smitten. 

You smiled back, matching his energy. A part of you enjoyed this. You were sure it would have been impossible to last this long if you had found him repulsive, but Elias was, by the standard of the business you were both in, a pretty nice guy. 

He had talked to you about his interests at length, breaking down the complexity of astronomy enough in an effort to make you actually follow along, instead of speaking simply with the intention to impress (or put down). He made sure you were comfortable. He made sure you were taken care of, stood up to his father for you. He bared his heart — part of it, anyway, that one night under the stars. 

 You almost felt bad. But that was the reality of life, that was the reality of business. The Wraiths had caused trouble for long enough, and it was time to put them down. Despite the appearance to the contrary, you were not in love. And even if you were, it would change nothing about the objective you pursued: gather intel, find out who killed your old boss, and, if at all possible, dismantle the Wraiths from the inside. 

It was going well so far. 

“You’re unusually reflective today,” Elias observed, taking a sip of his beverage and humming in contentment. “You have to teach me, because this is amazing, honestly.”

“Sure, if you teach me how to work that telescope. I can never get it to focus on anything and end up staring into the void instead of, like, a star or something.”

“Can you at least find the moon?” he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Depends on the phase it’s in, Elias. Sometimes it doesn’t want to be found, and I respect that,” you quipped back, chuckling as Elias laughed in earnest. “At least my eyes can find the birds in the trees, or do I have to remind you of the raven that was ‘definitely a twig.’”

His phone lit up. A message from Warden. 

“That was one time!” he exclaimed in mock offense, checking the message absentmindedly. “Besides, when we get out of this—” His voice got quieter as he read, fading into silence. His expression fell minimally, a frozen smile still on his face that now looked out of place.

“Interesting news?” you asked lightly, sipping on your own drink. 

Elias did not reply for a long moment. Then, he opened his mouth. His gaze fell away from the screen, settling on you instead. He made as if to speak, closing his mouth instead. Speechless. 

“That bad, eh?” you teased, tilting your head. “Did somebody steal the moon?”

“Something like that,” he said flatly. You frowned. He seemed to think for a moment before unlocking his phone again, sliding it towards you. “Care to elaborate?” 

The screen showed a picture from years ago, five perhaps, maybe seven. Your younger face was turned slightly towards the camera, a glare in your eyes as you gazed at whoever had taken the picture from behind the wheel. The number plate was plainly visible, unmistakably known to anyone who knew anything of how Stockton worked, as belonging to the Vex. 

“You don’t like my choice of car?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Bad news, bad news. Ignorance it was. “I know you prefer the motorcycle, but I think cars are—”

Elias slammed his hands on the table, springing to his feet with enough force to make the chair tip over. “You know exactly what I mean!” he screamed. 

To your credit, you did not flinch. The outburst was to be anticipated, and even if you managed to twist this in a way to make you look innocent, you knew Elias would be weary at least and James would be currently loading his gun at worse. No, this was done. The information you had gathered and the instability you caused — especially now, Warden would not trust his son’s judgment anytime soon — was sufficient.

“Why are you driving that car?” he continued, eyes blazing with an anger you had not seen on him before. “Are you— have you been a spy all along? Have I—”

No, it was time for a tactical retreat. How best to go about it? The door was locked and sealed, it would take you at least fifteen seconds to type in the code — provided it still worked and Warden had not changed it to keep you locked inside. Probably not, perhaps he feared for his son’s safety. You could be up to anything, as far as he knew. 

Revenge? A killer? An assassin, sent to kill the heir-apparent to his late wife’s empire? You doubted he’d take the risk of depriving Elias of an escapade, should he need it. The code was the same, you were sure of it. The question remained how to distract Elias for long enough to punch it in and disappear from view. 

“Have you what, Elias?” you challenged. “Have you saved the life of the enemy? What if I have a past, that part of my life is behind me now.” Lies, of course. Fifteen seconds, then another five until the door unlocks properly. How to keep him occupied? You glanced around for inspiration, your gaze flickering over the tidy kitchen counter, the basket of fruit between you and Elias, and the curtains to the bullet-proof window to your right. 

Ah. 

You leaned back in your chair, a long-suffering sigh on your lips. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“Spare me the bullshit!”

You glared at him, a real spark of rage suddenly igniting within you. “Oh so I get to listen to your tragic villain-origin story, but when it’s my turn you’re suddenly too good for it or what? Please,” you huffed, reaching into your pocket to retrieve the packet of cigarettes you had stolen from Elias, “I’m sorry for what happened to your mother, but you don’t have a monopoly on grief, and just how you’re part of the Wraiths — thinking that you’re the ‘good guys’ or whatever — other people have convictions in other things.”

You lit the cigarette, taking a long drag. There was dust on the windowsill. The curtains were bone-dry. They would catch, they had to catch. 

“You fooled me,” he said bitterly. “I don’t care about why, it doesn't change this. James was right, Dad was right. I should never have— I shouldn’t have helped you, kept you.”

Despite the circumstances, you could not suppress a chuckle. “Hey, if it makes you feel better,” you said, tilting your head to the side to give him a smile, “you were not the first to fall for a pair of pretty eyes.” You took another drag, flicking the cigarette towards the thin, dry curtains.

You did not wait to see if they caught fire. As soon as you let go of the cigarette, you darted for the door. Elias cursed behind you, but you paid him no mind. There was the faint smell of smoke — and a distant thought that the smell of something burning and being trapped in the confines of a house was not so far off from the thick smoke of rubble falling down around a little boy who remained unharmed while his mother was crushed — but you were focused on the numbers in front of you. 

2 - 1 - 9 - 7 - 0 - 2 - 4, the light flashed green. Unlocking in progress. 

There were five seconds to bridge, and you turned around to see Elias, now without his jacket, bracing himself against the wall next to the scorched curtains. The fire was extinguished, and his jacket seemed to have suffered minimal damage from what you could tell, glancing at it crumpled on the floor. Elias, however, was breathing heavily. He made no move to stop you, barely seemed to register you at all as he stood with his hands against the wall, head slightly bowed. 

The door unlocked. You had one hand on the handle already, ready to push, dart, and be out of there. 

“Wait,” Elias choked. He sounded breathless, wrecked. “Help me out, I can’t— can’t breathe in— in here.” His head remained bowed, eyes tightly shut. He reached out out a shaking hand towards you. “Please, please. I can’t—”

What to do? It could be a trap. You had no time to lose, and if Elias got his hands on you, you were not sure if you could shake him off again. Then again, you had seen him have a panic attack before, and this very much looked like one, triggered, no doubt, by the flames and the smoke. It had not been the most considerate idea for an escape, you had to admit — especially because you had come to know Elias — but lack of a better option had forced your hand.

And now? Did you risk being caught — and killed — to help him, or would you leave him to fend for himself?

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, wait. Wait!” Elias cried, gulping down too-quick breaths. “Don’t— don’t leave me alone like— like this. I— I—”

“The door’s open. Warden’s on his way, I’m sure. You’ll be alright,” you told him, looking at him for the last time. His eyes had shot open at your apology, panicked and unfocused and heartbreakingly glassy. He was shaking violently now, his hand still outstretched as if he held some futile hope that you would change your mind, that someone would be there to guide him out towards the open air and clear sky. “I am sorry.”

And you meant it. But regret would pass, and death was final. You slipped out, making sure to take the roads that would leave you undetected on your way back to Stockton, back home. The Vex would be waiting for your intel, you knew. The Wraiths would be out for your head in personal vengeance from now on. 

You were sorry for how things turned out with Elias, but thus was business. It was simply collateral damage that you had betrayed him in more ways than one. 

[patoslover]

Sorry this is kinda long.... I would have liked to share this in the discord server, it's a more private way, but then the lockdown happened and I don't think I can wait any longer to show this.

Ok so.... Yesterday night, I got a bit emotional over my life and a little reflecting on what has happened the past month or so and how it affected me and all [10khaos, maggots discord sv, 15khaos, apocalypselockdown, among others] (as I always do, I'm such a soft-ass (I do hope that made up word doesn't mean anything flirty I'm trying to lowkey insult myself in here tyvm English)) And so as I always do when emotions hit, I wrote a poem-kinda-thing.

I showed it to @lxvenderjewel and @falling-raine and this happened

And later @the-beard-of-edward-teach saw it and well....

I made changes to it since I showed it to them, but it's for better, trust me.

(the poem is at the bottom of the post woo)

I think that's enough of a warning for y'all. But just in case, this made people cry, this poem, it's very very dear to me in levels I can't write I can't explain I can't put into poems all the feelings and stuff, but I hope this poem makes up for the most part.

Be careful. I love you.

Thank you @the-beard-of-edward-teach @arkytiorlecter @voids-ideas @orpiknight @cawdra @apollos-dodgeball-target @obsessed-sketches @zonzolik @dashoulinas-fandom-dump @eybefioro @queermarzipan @lxvenderjewel @ivory--raven @styx142 @myfranticscribbles @empressumbreon @frogs-go-ribbit @thearoacemess @goodomensduh @sounds-void-fishy @arkytiorlecter @random-doctor-on-the-internet @apophid-I-eat-everything @achilles-in-a-blanket-burrito @hello-ello-ello @harbinger-of-existential-dread @howmanyholesinswisscheese @an-ace-on-the-case @goblin-named-sam @1800ineedshelp @chaoticgenderflood @ivory--raven @aroaceblackhole @three-smiles-and-a-unicorn @coppicegate @zonzolik @falling-raine @dashoulinas-fandom-dump @koboldkatalyst @arkytiorlecter @friday-im-in-love-with-crowley @good-usernames-were-taken @weirdly-specific-but-ok THANK YOU THANK YOU ILY (oh wow that's a lot of ppl) (PLS PLS tell me if I forgot anyone there's so many of you, SORRY IF I TAGGED YOU TWICE AAA AND I'M SORRY IF YOU WERE TAGGED AND DUNNO WTF I AM I GOT LOST WITH THE TAGS AAAA AND SORRY IF I TAGGED U AND THE TAG DIDN'T WORK)

I love you all so so so so so so so much, you're so dear to me. Thank you. This is a gift for you.

Demons Out.

There's a hell outside,

Demonic screaming,

Trees, fall's leaving.

And I'm just here inside,

In my bubble.

Trapped inside me,

Trapped in myself.

There's demons out,

Asking to come.

But I won't let them,

I'm not alone.

Inside myself,

Inside my world,

I've got most people

Than all of your's.

They're worth more

Than any gold,

And they're far way,

More beautiful

Than any Sun,

Than any Star,

They are right here,

They are right now.

They're my comfort,

And some my loss,

But they're all lovely

Precious along.

They're the most

Amazing

Beings to exist,

And so I'm afraid

That they'll all be missed.

Because I fear

One day they'll go,

That's why I start

To sing a song.

Please let us all

Become real friends,

Please let us all

Reunite again.

There's demons out,

Angels inside.

There's me in-between

Caring for (them) all

Please let us all

Reunite again.

There's demons out.

And I'm in pain,

But not too much,

We'll find a way.

There's demons out,

We are in pain.

But I will start

To sing again.

I care for each

And every of you,

So then I start

To sing a song.

Please let us all

Reunite again.

There's demons out.

We'll try again.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Raven! Just wanted to thank you for all the work in the Fandom you do. I've been lurking and following since 2021 (end of book 5ish?), and I always look forward to your posts, from analyses, to your blog events, and character interactions.

I appreciate the fact you give every character proper respect and care, even if you don't personally enjoy them. It gives a more well rounded aspect to your headcanons and 'char x reader' posts, cause theyre definitely some of my favorites.

Also you've infected me with brainrot for all the characters that you like like Sebek, J-word, and.... L***a... sebek is just bestboy and jade I'm more willing to love openly bc hes cute and scary. But I don't want to admit i like that annoying sexy lion man because I disliked him when I first got i to twst and now I'm actively looking for posts about him and my camera roll is full of l*ona fanart and looking at merch *rattles l*ona nui like a maraca*

That is to say... thanks for making this Fandom a great place. I'm sure it isn't easy coming up with such detailed posts, even if you enjoy what you do. Here's to many more years? Of brainrot and analysis and screaming 🥰🥂🥰

Omg, a long-time reader?? 😭 Thank you so much for the positive feedback on my works and for sticking with me all this time~!!

I’m the type of person that likes to compartmentalize the objective (lore/canon) from the subjective (whether I like a character or not, headcanons). This usually leads to some… interesting placements in my personal tier list, like some dorm leaders being in tiers lower than universally hated characters like Mrs. Rosehearts or the Briar Valley senators. There’s no true way to eliminate all bias, but I at least try to make it clear what’s speculation or my own interpretations. If I feel I’m being too biased, I have friends that are fans or dislikers of most characters that I can hit up to ask for their opinions. It’s really important to me to have balanced views for analysis, so thank you for also recognizing this. (I’ll also go ham when it’s time for me to rip off my anime geek glasses and ramble about why I like/dislike certain things about Twst though 😂; it’s just as important to be willing to critique the media you consume, because it’s not always going to be perfect!)

bdisbajVaja I’m honestly shocked at the asks and comments I’ve received crediting me for spreading brainrot of The Big Three (yes, that is what I am calling them now) 💦 Of course, it wasn’t my intention to do this so chsbsjwbke I’m flattered that my endless screaming into the void had an effect on others?? I mean, not that L*ona or J word were ever short on fans or in need of being defended. I do however find it hilarious that L*ona fans keep proving me right about being tsunderes over him 💀 This is moreso an achievement in regards to Sebek, a character that I always felt was unfairly bashed, especially early in Twst’s service. I’m so glad that people are starting to open their eyes to Sebek’s charm and not just… seeing him as being the Malleus Fanboy or loud, obnoxious, and hateful. If I could play even a small role in that shift, I’m proud www

Again, thank you for your support! Let’s make the Twst fandom the kind of place we want it to be ^^

P.S. … Wanted to share that I recently won “most tsundere” and “biggest character growth arc” in a Twst server’s yearbook polling OTL

[depoemdawg]

Unveil (part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Character: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the self-appointed explorer of Hogwarts, finds herself investigating a mysterious new Slytherin student and his unknown connection to the ghost in the Room of Requirements.

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long but I will never leave this story unfinished because I've had that done to me with another fanfic and it actually broke my heart. Also, I feel confident about this part! It was really fun to write. If you guys have any feedback, I'd love to learn how you feel about the story <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Expelliarmus.” He disarms me with a swift motion before I could even raise my wand. For a moment, time freezes. I’m at a loss for words as he stares back at me. I’m anticipating his next move but he just stares as if he were anticipating mine. My heart thumps out of my chest at this point but I open my mouth to let out a scream for help.

“Silencio.”

If I couldn’t give away my anger through my words, I definitely showed it through my glare. But that didn’t affect him one bit. Mattheo walks in through the door and I follow suit. I couldn’t let him get away, I doubt he’d let me get away even if I had tried to run.

The room is the same as it was when I was here. This time, I noticed more about it. I noticed the glass ceiling that moonlight strung through. I noticed the symbols on the doors. Mattheo strolls around the room, examining his surroundings which were clear of signs of a ghost. He finds the notebook in the middle of the room, on the desk, and picks it up. He is disappointed yet again by the lack of words in the book. He throws the book on the wall in a fit of frustration.

I raise an eyebrow at his loss of his usual cool. This was a side I’d never seen of him and I doubt anyone else at Hogwarts did either. He stalks up to me, wand at my throat. “Where. Is. He?”

I suck in a sharp breath as the wand presses against my throat, I tilt my head and look at him in disbelief. How exactly was he expecting me to talk?

Mattheo shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, barely calming himself. With another wave of his wand, I’m able to speak again.

“What do you want from him?” I ask.

“You’re in no place to be asking the questions.” He scoffs.

“Are you planning on raising another army of deatheaters?” I continue.

“Ask me another question and I won’t be as my patient as I have been with you, Raven.”

I scowl at his threat. Just as the tensions within the room rose, the ghost appeared from out of thin air. He sauntered over to us as if he had better things to do. I don’t imagine ghosts have much of a social life, let alone the ghost of Tom Riddle.

I glance at Mattheo to gauge his reaction to the ghost of his dead father. His face was surprisingly void of emotion, of course it was. In this moment, it was clear as day that he was a Riddle. I almost cursed myself for not seeing it earlier if it weren’t for his admittedly, skilled, connivery.

As the ghost came closer, his attention seemed to be caught on to Mattheo. As if he knew exactly who he was. Tom Riddle stopped in front of us, sneering at the boy. “What are you doing here?”

“You know why I’m here, father.” I’d love to be serious right now but what is with Slytherins and their daddy issues? Seriously! It’s getting out of hand.

I slowly inch away from the two as they share an intense look of hatred towards each other. But as I do, I stumble on the carpet. “Crap.”

Mattheo turns to me and tilts his head, glaring at me. His father stays fixed on his son. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt this wonderful, heartwarming reunion.” I give them a tight smile and stand frozen in place. There was no way I was getting out of this now.

“Where is she?” Mattheo turns back to the ghost.

Tom Riddle raises his eyebrows in feigned innocence before turning away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Mattheo clenches his jaw. “Where is my mother?”

Oh shit.

Tom Riddle freezes in his place, his ghostly figure tensing up. The room suddenly felt much colder as clouds began blocking the moon’s light turning the room into a disarray of shadows.

“If only you had had such passion towards my aims.” He sighs, turning around. His face seemed as if it has sunken even more as he dissected Mattheo with his eyes.

“I have no interest in being a part of your psychotic plans.” Mattheo scoffed and walked towards his father. “Tell me where she is and I’ll consider not revealing your location to Dumbledore.”

“You think I’m afraid of Dumbledore?”

“I know you are.” Tom’s ghost flew through Mattheo in rage. The entire room began shaking and grumbling.

“You’re a disappointment! I should have never brought you into this world!” His father sneered

“You think I haven’t heard that before?” Mattheo coldly chuckles.

“You’re better off not finding your mother, she’d just be just as disappointed as me.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and turned away. “There’s no use in this.” He mutters, walking towards the door out. “I’ll tell Dumbledore you said ‘Hey’.”

After a few minutes in silence.“There.” The ghost held up his arm to point to the door on his right. “You and your pathetic mother can be together.” He lets put through clenched teeth and disappeared.

Suddenly, it was just the two of us in the room. He stood quietly for a moment.

“Mattheo?” I mumble as I walked towards him. “Are you okay-“

“I’m fine.” He interrupts in an aggressive tone before turning to face me. “You’re coming.” Mattheo states as if I don’t have a choice.

“You’re saying that like I don’t have a choice.”

“What makes you think you have one.” He says before opening the door the ghost pointed at. The door opened to a small wooden room with nothing in it besides a necklace.

I peak into the room. “I’m not going.”

“And you think I’m going to let you run off and tell everyone what you saw today?” He tilt his head and raises an eyebrow. A small smirk teasing his lips.

“I won’t!” I nod profusedly.

“You’re coming.” He grabs hold of my arm and nudges me into the room. I throw him a glare but I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t curious as to where this is going. I picked up the necklace from the floor, it held the mystery initials ‘O.P’ with beautiful flowers carved into the letters.

“What is this?”

He fit himself into the tiny room with me and closed the door. I suddenly feel how close he is to me and try to distance myself from him as much as I can.

“It’s a portkey.“ He noted as he took the necklace from me. Mattheo glances up from the necklace to look at me.

Our faces were inches away from each other as I tried to hold back a blush forming on my cheeks from embarrassment. It was embarrassment, right?

“Are you afraid of me?” He narrows his eyes at me.

“Give me a reason not to be.” I state. “Where do you think this portkey goes?”

His gaze stays on me, burning holes into my head.

“Only one way to find out.” He puts the necklace around his neck. “Hold my hand.”

“What??” I nearly choke on my own spit. “No.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” The corner of his lips lift in amusement.

“I’m pretty sure we can just hold the necklace together.” I fold my arms.

Mattheo rolls his eyes and grabs my hand and within seconds we're being whisked away into teleportation. We fall through a wind tunnel, holding on to each for our lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We finally land on solid ground after what felt like forever. At this point I’m crushing Mattheo’s hand in my hand, trying my best not to lose my balance and fall to the ground.

“You are the worst person I’ve ever met.” I say, out of breath from screaming.

“That’s not the first time someones told me that.” Mattheo sighs and looks around. “This is….” He looks like he’s at a loss of words.

I look around us to find a dark and gloomy graveyard. Just in time for halloween. "Not what I was expecting..." He frowns.

Three kids saunter up by us as we stand there heaving. They laugh to each other as they pass by us. “You can’t kiss in the graveyard!” One yells as they scream and start running.

The silence after that was incredibly deafening. Mattheo sighs and walks towards the pathway. “Come on.” He’s still holding my hand.

I jog to catch up with him.

.

.

.

And I’m still holding his hand. Damn it.

Tag list:

@moonlightreader649

If you'd like to be added to the tag list pls write a note or send me a message!

[gauzemer]

Joyride

This is not a story about godhood.

Did you know that gray wolves had been extirpated in Yellowstone National Park by 1926? You don’t know what Yellowstone is, but the concept of a wolf is familiar to you. A wolf is the archetypal predator, a relentless and pursuing beast. Even when you cram yourself down into a human form, you are the wolf. You hunt. You live. You always live.

When the wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone, they leveled out the unchecked deer and coyote populations, and sent a rippling trophic cascade of effects through all levels of the ecosystem. Foxes became more abundant. Hares and small birds consequently consumed less food, altering the material decomposing in the soil, which in turn altered the composition of the soil itself. The park thrives with the reintroduction of its natural predators. You are a natural predator, no matter what name you go by– Wildmother predating Melora predating Asha, the girl with the terrible wolf eyes let loose upon the streets of Aeor.

The people in that floating city were built of flesh and terror. They were gamey between your teeth. You stalked the streets even as they forgot to fear you.

You are not kind. You are not good. You are hungry.

This is not a story about godhood, but it’s not a story about mortality, either. Before you were a woman, you were crazy, and before you were crazy, you were right. You’re divine like dirt. You love dirt. You’d eat dirt til you died if they let you.

No caloric value, but you’d be full.

This is not a story about Yellowstone. You don’t know what Yellowstone is. You don’t care. Yellowstone isn’t something you can put your teeth to. Yellowstone isn’t prey or predator or scavenger or decomposer. It doesn’t matter. Aeor could be Yellowstone, the way you’ve decimated the natural order, but it’s not. That’s not the analogy. That’s not what this means.

Years and years and years ago, before any of you had even conceived of the invention of years, you were chased into this world by a monstrous force you named Predathos, and it changed you. You all locked it away behind prison bars, and your siblings said, oh, phew, it can’t get out now! Good job, everyone, we did it! And you watched their revelry, watched them thrill in their success, and your sibling whose name was taken from you came and sat by you and asked, Melora, what troubles you? And you had run your tongue over your teeth and said nothing, because it was the nothing that had been troubling you.

Wolves eat, yes? Wolves eat because they’re hungry. You’ve been hungry. When you were growing up in Aeor, your mortal father found you locked inside the henhouse, screaming and wailing, covered in blood and surrounded by chickens, and you weren’t crying because the chickens were dead, but rather because even their living flesh could not sate you. You understand hunger. You understand.

What troubles you about the nothing is that it always exists in the absence of everything else. It is a self-contained void. Given enough time, it collapses, and something floods in all over again. Listen– listen, yes, there is a point to this. There is a point. You ask the woman who killed your sibling where he went, and she had stared at you through blank plaster eyes and said nothing and you had said I would like to go there please could you get me to the nothing and there had been the dull crash of something unimaginable and distant and you had known that there was only one way to that great next nothing and it was no longer her.

The Raven Queen shepherds mortals. Without her, they would live forever, invasive and unchecked. You love them, but your love is a hunger, and mortals can only love you the way that a tree loves the gardener and his shears. That is a tenuous love. You are still hungry. You are unchecked too, Melora, Asha, and that is the truth that no one else seems to realize: you are not a wolf. You are a deer in a park ranger’s uniform, and you have extirpated the wolves from Yellowstone, hidden them behind a gate and stranded them on the moon, and you have no fear of anything anymore. You and your ilk locked away the primordials. You and your ilk tear each other and your creations to pieces.

Do you really love these things that you’ve made, Wildmother, or are you lying? Why are you lying? You know the truth that no one else can accept. You’re not eating because you’re hungry. You’re eating because you’re bored.

You are not a wolf. You are a doe. You live in Yellowstone, which is called Exandria, and the people cry out for the wolves to return, and you do not refute them, only offer a correction on the nature of the noun. No, children. This is not Canis Lupus. This is something older, which we call Predathos. Predathos is the wolf. Predathos is the wolf. Predathos is the wolf.

You are driving this world like you stole it, because you did. You are a little girl in a henhouse, ripping out the throats of these plump, friendly birds with your milk teeth and sobbing for something you do not understand when all you receive is blood. You’re hungry for something that blood can’t sate. You offer your power in resurrection, and watch from the bushes, glowing eyes in the darkness and the brush, and the question goes, oh, my love, welcome home, where have you been? And the response is always nothing, nothing, nothing.

You’re on a joyride without a roadmap, and you’re in the backseat, and you are the only one in the car who realizes that the road ends. You are the only one who realizes that it must.

You lick your lips, and begin to drool.

[kissorkill16]

Covered By The Raven: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Another nightmare turns into a dream.

P.S., this is kind of for like @ravenbrooks and @averagenickyrothfan .

Nicky drank his pill and water, got into bed and drifted off to sleep.

He woke up in a strange black void. He looked around to see if there was anyone else there, but no one else was there.

That's when he started to get scared.

He thought he was in another nightmare, like the grocery store or the woods.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he screamed and tried to get it off, but the hand gripped his shoulder tight in its fingers.

"Shh...", said a voice from behind him. "It's alright, Nicholas. Calm down."

That voice.

He knew that voice.

Nicky turned around to see the same tall cloaked beaked figure that's been haunting him and his friends for weeks now, and he continued to get the hand off his shoulder, but it was on there tight as hell.

"Let go of me!", Nicky yelled at the figure, "Where even am I?"

The figure took a match from inside its cloak, and lit a candle. The light flickered around so fast, but Nicky could immediately tell that he was in Mr. Peterson's basement.

He ran to the door and started twisting and pulling the knob. The figure just stood in the corner and sighed.

"That didn't work the first time, it's not going to work now. Stop trying to open the door, it's never going to open."

Nicky ran to the window, remembering something Enzo and Maritza did while he and his friends were in the basement. He pushed the window, but it didn't budge.

"That won't work either, dear boy. We learn from our mistakes."

Finally, Nicky gave up and slumped down to the floor, his eyes starting to fill with tears.

The boy felt something drape over his back, surrounding him in warmth. He turned around to see that the raven man was using his own cloak to cover him up.

Why?

"Why am I here?"

The raven man turned its beak to Nicky, "Because I want to remind you what a beautiful place this is."

Nicky's eyes widened in shock. Did this thing just call the basement beautiful? This place was anything but beautiful.

"Stop it you freak!", he said, pushing away from the raven man, but failing once again to get away. "This place isn't beautiful! I may have thought so before, but I wasn't in my right mind."

As he protested, the raven man just held a long and pointy finger to its beak, shushing the little boy. It pulled Nicky close once again, trapping him in his cloak and hold.

A moment of silence passed through the room.

"I know you don't think so anymore, but let me tell you that I can convince you otherwise."

He pressed a finger to Nicky's forehead, and it brought back all of the unpleasant memories of the two little girls who forced him to play with them, the scrapes and bruises he got from Mr. Peterson, and how he was forced to wear a bag to keep him safe.

But somehow, they became less unpleasant and more...warm.

Suddenly, the basement wasn't so dark or cold anymore. Instead, it was warm and had working lights. Lucy and Mya were there too, looking less like shadowy demons and more like alive little girls.

"Isn't this wonderful, Nicholas?", asked the raven man. "The games are fun, there's not a scratch on your body, and your friends...oh your dear friends who love you very much, they're willing to stay here with you and play games with you."

Nicky looked at Lucy and Mya, and they waved at him.

"I know they're my friends,...but what about everyone else? Don't they at least wonder where I am?", he asked the raven man.

The cloaked figure shook its head, "Oh no, Nicholas. Remember when Mr. Peterson told you that no one above the surface cared about you? Not your friends, not even your family? That was the only thing that was true."

"But -"

The raven man held a finger to the boy's mouth.

"Just forget about them for a moment.", he said. "Look around here, Nicholas. Wouldn't you rather stay here forever?"

Nicky looked down at his shoes, "Forever?", he asked. "If I said yes, would everything go back to being dark?"

"Of course not, little boy. You'd just stay here forever with your perfectly alive friends and play as many games as you want."

Nicky kept looking at his shoes, not really sure about that.

"Yes.", said the raven man. "That would be so nice. Right, Nicholas?"

Nicky nodded his head, "Yeah...I guess that would be nice.", he said. "I'm just going to stay like this for a couple more minutes and then I'll go play with the girls."

The raven man nodded.

Nicky leaned against the chest of the cloaked raven man, letting the blanket cover his body.

He didn't even want to know if this was a real deal, or if this was another one of the raven man's tricks. He didn't even care. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy this dream while it lasted.

[c0nnection-established]

<Blissful Pain> Flickering lights and confusing pathways were the only thing she could sense. In a massive palace that “belonged” to her, eternally alone. It sat atop a hill that saw a lick of light. Surrounding it was a massive sea of black. Writhing and twisting. It undulated a screech. Sound was too graceful a word to describe this void. Looking past the darkness meant looking past herself. But her self was vast. She barely comprehended the extent to which she was. How could she. It was dark. In the centremost chamber of the palace, that seemed to stretch on forever, more massive than the Palace itself sat a colossal heart. Beating to a rhythm ingrained in it from eons past. Thumps echoed through that chamber. Shaking the entire island. It danced to a Ravenous Song of Life. Deeper underground the Palace basement stretched on for even huger distances. Separated in levels, it dwarfed the hell crafted by our gods. This wasn’t hell. How could it be? She wasn’t dead. She won’t be dead for some time more. Alive. She found herself in an enclosed room. Almost like a cave. The walls were jagged and rough. Moist and slippery. Though the floor made of pristine cut marble, its craftsmanship rivalled the gods themselves. The ceiling stretched high above into the darkness. She wasn’t sure if she was in a cave or a hole. A statue stood before her. Made of pristine marble at the top. Slowly as it went down the edges roughened up and the colour faded into that of the walls around her. It was beautiful in every possible manner. It was a statue of a person in light clothes. They sat in a throne, their hands resting on the arms of the throne. The expression on its face sour. They wore their hair short, to shoulder length. Glasses, rectangular, sat atop their bridge and eyes stared forward past her. Always. It was as if she would remain in its periphery. The only peculiar thing about it was that it bled from its wrists and eyes. Tears in blood. An effigy trapping someone in. The statue trembled ever so subtly. ‘Was someone trapped?’, she asked herself. She took a step forward and in front of her a marble tile rose up from the ground. It had a pristine knife. A blade crafted exactly for her hands. Smooth curved edges met jagged and tough edges. The handle made of fine leather comfortably rested in her hands. She didn’t even realize she’d picked up the knife. On the table sat a note. Hurriedly written, and written in blood. “Give me your flesh I will be free. I give you my blood So, you exercise your freedom.” She stopped. A voice screamed,

“BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL” BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL BRICK WALL The voice had consumed her mind. The only thing she had in it were the words “brick wall”. Again, and again the same words, slowly distorted into garbled noise. Now just shapes burned into her mind. By the time she managed to shake the voices away, she saw herself in the statue’s lap. Her guts splayed out in its arms. Blood covered every surface of the statue’s body now, except its face. All exposed flesh screamed with a burning sensation. As if she was gasoline with a nervous system. Her vocal cords, now under her control vibrated and tore. Her voice starting as an ear-piercing wail fading to more blood. It’s blood and hers now mixed. Its wish fulfilled. Her intestines splayed out undulated with still digesting food. The gurgles one could hear in their stomach were crystal clear to her. Her liver slowly writhed, and the stomach squeezed periodically. Her face had lost much of its volume and the skin tugged at her bones. Her breath came ragged and scattered. She could feel her lungs fill up with blood. Her eyes turned to her heart. Beating to that strange rhythm. She didn’t want it anymore. The pain had now taken a backseat. Her heart ached with fear and loss. So, she held it firmly. The beating wriggled in her hands, and she tore it out. Arteries ripping open and veins falling apart. Eventually all sound stopped. Blood covered every bit of the walls and floor. All that was left was her hand up against the crying statue’s face with the heart still beating against the stone.

[dolceaspidenera]

Aaaah thank you for responding to my tag, all three of your WIPs sound really interesting, but because I'm deep in my LADS hyperfixation era, would you care to share snippets or more info about:

Give me hunger, but leave me a little love and/or the Punk/metal concert?

They both sound delightful in completely different ways

Ehyyy! Thank you for the tag and for taking an interest ✨ this is the first chance I have to actually share some of my writings 😊

Some short snippets below the cut, I hope you like them!

GIVE ME HUNGER, BUT LEAVE ME A LITTLE LOVE

I already shared a snippet in this ask, but here are two more. The second one is super short, but I really like how it turned out 😎 (The title is taken from the poem "At a Window" by Carl Sandburg)

I was eleven when the chief priest recognized in me the auspicious sign of the prophesied dragon slayer, my unique power an irrefutable indicator. A power I did not understand. Yet, thanks to that, I was suddenly someone. It didn’t matter that they could only see the projected illusion of a marionette dancing in front of a fire.

For a while, I almost felt like I had a full belly, my hunger sated. 

Yet that satisfaction was temporary. Unsubstantial. Always conditional. The priests demanded much. I had to be the perfect student, the perfect warrior, the perfect lady. Still, I learned to satiate that ever-growing void with temporary, shiny distractions. I received mouthfuls of satisfaction from my accomplishments, and gorged myself in the fleeting serenity of singing prayers- the only time my voice was allowed to rise and ring as powerful as I wished I could scream. 

I learned to make myself smaller, so that I could fit in the mold the Sanctuary fabricated for me, despite the shape being all wrong. 

And my hunger kept growing. Festering. An open, purulent wound.

I became thinner, each day a shade more transparent. My bowl was full, yet in my mouth clung the bitter aftertaste of conditionals. Empty praises coated the roof of my mouth. False devotion filled my larynx. And I could only drink from a cup of dissatisfaction to help me swallow the indigestible mouthful. 

The silence among those white walls was all-encompassing. A prison made of duty and expectations. A prison made of denials. It enveloped me like a shroud sewn in responsibilities.

And in those years of solitude, among the white marble floors and pristine tunics, I started to lose myself and disappear. A white ghost trapped inside white walls. I turned into a restless shadow, my silhouette visible only when the bright lights of the candles lit for Mass were cast on me.

Somewhere among empty prayers and endless rites, I lost my voice. Somewhere under the heavy gaze of those stern statues, always watching, always judging, I lost myself.

---

My teeth sink into the tender flesh of the fruit, spilling the succulent juice as rivulets fall from my mouth and drip down my chin, tracing bloody rivers on my skin. 

The priests always insisted that we ate with composure, ever the perfect models of virtue. Ravenous hunger is for animals, they said. Now no one is here to tell me how to eat, and I indulge my appetite, wolfing down the food.

The dragon watches me in silence. I smile at him, baring my teeth. My mouth covered in spilled juice, resembling the bloodied snout of a wolf. He doesn’t say anything, he just keeps watching, perhaps out of boredom. Yet his eyes shine with something deeper, dangerous. Something like fascination. Something like desire.

PUNK/METAL CONCERT (who knows what the title will actually be)

Since you became part of his life, you gradually took space at the base. Your presence a ray of sunshine in the gloomy halls. 

The twins instantly grew fond of you. Sharing music became a newfound tradition between the three of you. Your own ritual borne from familiarity and shared interests. A mandatory observance that only demanded enjoyment and appreciation for music. New bands the sacred text you three abide by. Sometimes Mephisto joined in too, his overly excited caws resounding through the empty rooms of the base. 

Before Sylus could fully realize it, you had become part of their daily lives. The base felt more lively. Laughter and mischief filled the air. Even the sun seemed to follow you, as the heavy drapes were left open by your passage. Golden particles dancing after you like mad fireflies. He wasn't ready to call this family. He wasn't ready to look at the twins and admit they had become more than just subordinates.

And yet-

And yet, wherever you went felt like home, and his heart grew fuller each day he got to spend with you.

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

✧₊⁺ Oh Who Is She? ✧₊⁺

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x OC (Astraea)

A drabble from Wisdom In The Stars

Author's Note: I am aware that there was a xenos in 40k already called Nephilim. Astraea is not from that species, merely, they just happen to have the same name.

**I rewrote this, I am much happier with this version. The power of five cups of coffee and a stimulant will do that**

Quick pro quo on drabbles in this work:

This is all very self-indulgent and I will not apologize. If the Grimdark can be extra, so can I!

Bobby G's love interest is a xenos of my making, so they are as long-lived as him, but not a perpetual.

Again mad self-indulgent. Oozing copium by the ton

Rowboat Guillotine deserves a happy life and some damn peace

So many Primarchs are going to be back in some drabbles. Again no fucks given

Proofread? Never heard of her

Warnings: None. It's just them meeting, nothing more.

18+ Minors DNI

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Oh, who is she? A misty memory A haunting face ⊹ ࣪ ˖

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

The daemons around her lay torn asunder. She appeared out of nowhere like the Warp spit her out of self-preservation. He had not seen how she laid these foul things to waste, but he heard it. Despite the viscera, the stranger stood there with an unworldly grace, watching him and his men with great interest, but also a casualness, like she was merely passing through. Like the bolters pointed at her were nothing of concern. She apparently asked for Guilliman by name. Roboute after everything he'd been through was hesitant to grant her request, but if she moved through greater daemons like his men claimed. Saved them like they shamefully admitted. She earned some form of grace.

His steel gaze took her in; curious who had his sons in a state of awe and pause to their duties to purge xenos and dangerous psykers. Her skin was like the earliest tells of night, even a hint of shimmer, like the stars starting to become visible. Eyes like voids, but bright molten gold orbs float within. Her features were human, but not. Hair long and the color of a raven's feather, but when light hit it right, a tinge of midnight blue could be seen. Her gaze not much lower than his men.

But it wasn't just her appearance, it was what was felt. She filled the room, them, like a song he knew was being played but he couldn't hear. He could feel the tune. It was calming. Running over his mind like a blanket on a winter's night. She was messing with them. Overriding their resistance to such things as if it were child's play. Yet, he could feel she was restraining herself. That bothered him.

"I will admit, I partly expected no such kindness. I am privy to how you humans of the Imperium view other species, mostly those in tune with the great sea of souls," she spoke. Words flowed from her like a slow-moving river. Everything about her was forcing them into a calm, "I am still expecting deceit."

Roboute hummed, not letting her outwardly know she was having an effect on him. But when he looked at those eyes, he couldn't help but feel like he was being read like a book. All of them were. His mind reeling of practicals and theoreticals. If she as a daemon she was not like those he had dealt with before. She in her calm, demanded respect. Forced civility no matter how much their brains wanted to scream other wise. Was this the power his creator had? Was this...no gods did not exist.

“I am not a god, Lord Regent. Perhaps once considered such. But no. I am just old and tired of the snake which eats it's tail. Tired of the long cycle. No more. No less.” her words confirmed his fears.

Roboute momentarily lost himself, but recovered. His men, he could feel them getting tense, but unable to act upon it. Eyes glued to her, but the urge to fire suppressed. “What do you want from me?” his tone even, hiding the growing discomfort in his mind.

"I was elected to extend, what is that ancient expression? Extend an olive branch? For all who reside within our territory. For the dangers that are rising, threaten all. A crescendo of this cacophony of a choir is about to reach it's peak."

Guilliman craned an eyebrow, "Is this so and how did the Emperor manage to ignore such a danger as those like you. Assuming most of you are witches. And why help now?"

Where was your power when our Imperium started to fall 10,000 years ago?

She shrugged, "Galaxies are massive, yes? Sometimes places just fall though. That and my people are good making things nonexistent to those we wish not to perceive us. Your creator's view of xenos and anything not human was made very clear, and the hypocrisy of his machinations."

A deep snarl rose from Roboute, “And what does a xenos witch know of The Emperor's will?”

“Pride is a hubris all young species fall to. Whether or not the survive the fall is another matter. I know much, as much as I know little. That is the wisdom I have come understand. You anger so quickly for a being, you oft yourself took issue with because I am not human? Hypocritical, but a mortal response. To say I wouldn't do the same is a lie. I will explain much in greater detail, should you accept this offer. If not, I will leave and even you with your mind so mighty will forget I was even here.”

"I do not think you know the thin line you walk by my graces." Roboute's voice tinged with anger forged but uncertainty of what was before him.

Again she shrugged, "I am aware. But your primarch aura does not dampen my senses to make me malleable to compliance. My people shrugged that off a very long time ago," she sighed, "I am not here to lecture you, Lord Regent. I am offering help, an alliance, how long it lasts I leave to you. That Rift must be closed, and you do not have the power at your disposal to do so."

She didn't give him time to respond before continuing, "This galaxy is in greater danger than just the parasites that you call Tyranids, or that ugly rift. Events that scarred this galaxy long before humans were speaking are opening. You are a proud species, there is some warranting of that, I am aware. But someone close to me once said 'Sometimes proud people need help' that strength is knowing how to accept help."

It was those last words. Those words single-handedly won him over. Did she know? Is that why she said them? Or did she mean them? Quick thoughts of his mother came forth, but he quickly choked them down, fearful the woman before him would use that against him, if she was indeed so easily in his mind.

“Do we need to worry about you and yours reading our minds?” he asked flatly, “Do not lie to me. I know when I'm being lied to.” he warned.

She shook her head, “No. In truth, it is something we often tune out. Or turn off, if you will. It is deafening and we understand the need for privacy. We too enjoy it. But a show of good faith, if a thought is strong enough, or an emotion powerful enough. We will feel it. That will not be avoided. And like you Lord Regent, we can sense other functionings of bodies. Well some of us. Again I will explain, should you accept.”

Roboute nodded, "I will work with your people, for now. But when the greatest threats have passed. I promise nothing." he replied,"So what is your name then?"

"Astraea Armaros."

"And what are you?"

"Nephilim, but among my people I am called Methuselah."

[global-broadcast-network]

Who Are The Iterators? What's The Plot?

SUMMARY OF WHAT HAS HAPPENED SO FAR Act 0:

Saint escapes from Nebula's structure and moves toward Aqua's

Seas creates a group of people through questionable means trying to capture Saint for themselves

Ghosts and Shrike get pulled into the rebel group against their will, Ghosts more than Shrike

The seniors (Owls, Epithet, Raven, Nebula) fully assemble themselves as Epithet becomes publicly "alive" again and Nebula requests help so they can manage Saint, gaining support from the other 3

Epithet has visions of a slug cat ascending him, his fear beginning to consume him

Milky way become suspicious of each other as some members join the rebels anonymously

early relationships are established, some are yet to be revealed

ACT 1:

Epithet's visions of his demise get worse, and he steps back from his role, focusing on saving himself and others, slowly closing himself off from everyone after some particularly nasty nightmares

Saint is prevented from reaching Aqua and travels south on a Leviathan

a side group of the rebels is formed, focusing more on finding out what is going on instead of capturing Saint. They mainly question their seniors, but also attempt to question Ghosts

Seas and Storms steal a pearl from Nebula, but they don't know how to decode it so they send it to Ghosts

Ghosts requests excessive resources from Comets to fuel himself and Seas, which is allowed but Ghosts is also reprimanded for not stopping Seas' activities

Seas realises that Ghosts is hoarding the majority of the resources for himself, and tries to get Comets to stop fuelling him, and fails to do so.

Shadows and Moment try to ask Future to stay out of the situation, but she does not

Lumi finds out about Epithet's situation and promises to stay with him until it's time

Saint reaches Epithet and ascends him, causing ripples throughout all of the groups.

ACT 2 (so far):

Acting seniors take over as all leave to process Epithet's ascension. They do not work as well as they could, Shrike and Shadows having very different opinions on how to be a "good senior"

Epithet finds himself as an Echo and starts trying to contact his family again

Nebula creates another slugcat capable of ascension, Tempest, and sends them out to follow Saint's trail

Ghosts' fear and paranoia spike as he breaks under the pressure of all the demands made of him, as well as his terror of Shrike being ascended, and sets out to solve the issue himself, breaking the blacklist that prevents him from using void fluid weapons but also doing large damage to his own puppet in the process

WHO ARE THE ITERATORS? (iterators are listed by age, bold are commonly seen characters, Seniors are red, Rebels are blue, Detectives are green, Acting seniors are orange)

OL - Ocean's Lament

GOL - Ghosts Of Leviathans (Ghosts) [He/Him]

TBS - Treacherous Blue Seas (Seas) [They/Them]

DA - Deep Aquarium (Aqua) [She/Her]

MW - Milky Way

BSDN - Bright Skies Distant Nebula (Nebula) [They/Them]

TFPC - Trails From Passing Comets (Comets) [He/Him]

EORS - Echoes Of Raining Sands (Echoes) [They/She]

GE - Gilded Eclipse (Gil) [He/It]

SOJ - Storms On Jupiter (Storms) [Any, They/Them]

BO - Brilliant Odyssey (Odd) [He/Him]

SC - Scattered Constellations (Stellar) [She/They/Stars]

SO - Saturn's Orbit (Orbit) [He/Him]

BN - Bird's Nest

OEEW - Owl's Eyes of Endless Wisdom (Owls) [She/Her]

TMSB - The Moon Stares Back (Raven) [He/Him]

SHRIKE - Soundless Howls Ringing In Keen Ears (Shrike) [They/It/Him]

NLS - Night's Listless Spirits (Night) [They/Them]

MMT - Magpie's Many Trinkets (Magpies) [They/Them]

CO - Corvid's Omen (Corvid) [He/Him]

TW - Twisting Weave

SOAFE - Screams Of a Furious Epithet (Epithet) [He/Him]

EFUS - Eyes From Unseen Shadows (Shadows) [She/Her]

AMF - A Moment Foreshadowed (Moment) [She/Her]

NSP - Non-Specific Place (Place) [They/It]

UT - Unspecified Time (Time) [They/It]

LR - Luminal Resonance (Lumi/Res) [He/Him]

PC - Primal Catalyst (Catalyst (Cat/Lys)) [They/Them]

QF - Queried Future (Future) [She/They]

ECHOES:

SOAFE - Screams Of a Furious Epithet (Epithet) [He/Him]

SSBSG - Shattered Steel Besides Stained Glass (Steel) [she/her]

????

Maps

Navigation Tags

#GBN log [Number] - Non-Ask logs

#Ask Response - Ask logs/responses

#GBN shitpost - Non-Canon memes etc

#rw art month - art month content (contains canon lore)

#GBN refs - references for the characters

#GBN ancients - content regarding the creators of our iterators

#GBN Act 0 - https://www.tumblr.com/global-broadcast-network/745130370665758720/gbn-act-0?source=share

#GBN Act 1 - COMPLETE BUT NO VIDEO #GBN ACT 2 - writing

[insane-brit]

Consecrated (Teaser)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Demon!Fem!Reader

ONE-SHOT LINK: NOT OUT YET

A/N: This was originally a blurb I wrote last night to try and give myself a break from classwork, but I think I'm going to turn this into a one-shot. I just haven't had the time the past few weeks to genuinely sit down and write for the Royalty series and other works. However, I did finish the class that was giving me the most work and I'm delighted to have more time to write now. I’ve started chapter 3 for Royalty, inching closer to finishing the Pray to me one-shot, and I've started writing requests!

Warnings/tags: Dark themes, violence, consuming humans, blood, anger, death, slight religious terms, manipulation, slight smut, P in V, some self hatred/loathing, slight objectification

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word count: 550

He stood there like a statue. Expression etched into one of apathy. Hollow and void of any emotion like the bottom of a sable sea. Her brows furrowed and pointed teeth bit her lip. Vermillion ichor leaked from the wound and dribbled down supple skin. Who was he to have done such a thing? To cause rapture in her world and one she couldn’t fix unless she embraced death in all his cold merciless glory.

The flare of his cells ignited through her body. A constant reminder that she was chained to him body and soul. Kibutsuji made sure she knew this fact with no resistance. Resisting caused pain. Pain is suffering. Though, what is suffering anymore? She had already endured so much over the ages she watched the sun rise and fall from the shadows. Never able to let its warmth coat her skin unless she wanted the smell of burnt flesh and scorched ruin to litter her body. Having to flee from those with blades on their hips hellbent on eliminating her kind. A transformation she never asked for. One of abomination and sin.

She had devoured countless bodies. Each time in a fury of erratic hunger. Her stomach and instincts were ravenous and crying out for more.

More more more

Salt would trail down her face as she heaved over the deceased. Saliva dripped onto their massacred remains. Hiccups bubbled in her chest as she cradled the faces of children, women, and men.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…please I’m sorry.” Smearing the blood onto the fabric covering her chest. Tucking her head into their hair coated in the nutrients she so desperately needed to survive.

She was a beast with an insatiable hunger for the flesh of who she once was. Watching people live their lives as she ripped shreds of skin from her bones. Screaming in rage as it grew back only to be mutilated more the next. They had no idea how lucky they were. They weren’t chosen for this or more than just becoming a monster. No, he had her wrapped around his finger. Nothing was private as he knew everything. He flipped the pages of her back and forth never missing a detail. Tweaking the imperfections until satisfied.

An object, something to own, something to control, that’s who she was. The feeling of him sliding into her as he held her down on the cotton sheets, her legs carelessly hooked onto his hips as he linked his pelvis to hers, caused a flurry of mixed emotions to wage war. He would graze his canines across the curves of her neck. Sinking and drinking in his fill of everything that he made her to be. Coaxing sounds from her throat as he fondled her breast. All the while she would grit her teeth. Awaiting the onslaught of destruction demons were bound to cause in a coitus act. Marring each other’s appearance as they were helpless to their desires. It never came. Kibutsuji never allowed it and if he had any craving to maim her while bedding her, he never did. He would leave gashes that soaked the tatami mat and covers in cardinal fluid. Watching the lesions close and her muscles tense in anticipation for something far worse but never mangle her beyond repair.

[kydrogendragon]

Please, can I ask about The Raven King?

Raven King! Yeah, so this was what I originally planned to do for NaNo this last November and just started writing it by the seat of my pants without much of a plan. Ended up not finishing it but I did get a good 20k words into it. It's just a scattering of scenes right now, mostly.

The overall premise is a Hades/Persephone mixed with Beauty and the Beast type fic. Hob ends up going into town on the Winter Solstice and happens to go on the same year when The Raven King comes for "payment". Every fifty years, he comes and takes a soul away from the town as per their arrangement for existing in what are technically his lands.

The warning being that if you light any light on the longest night, the Raven King will come claim you instead. So no one as any fires or lanterns or anything going. Hob, not quite believing such a myth and who is also freezing his arse off, lights up the fireplace in his room. Which, unbeknownst to him, is him basically screaming out to the Raven King, "Hey! Please come take me and marry me!!"

There's gonna be some sort of climactic action, but what it is yet, i've no idea, so most of the scenes have just been them leaving to slowly love each other. A very enemies to friends to lovers bit.

A snippet for ya!:

A female voice shrieked. Hob jolted awake. His vision was empty. Nothing but a void seemed to cover his eyes, no matter where he looked. The voice was muffled, like it was underwater, or he was underwater. What was happening? “Robert Gadling,” a deep, soothing voice called out from somewhere in the void Hob seemed to be stuck inside. “You have lit a fire here in the night, calling me to you. We will depart shortly.” Depart? This was a dream, surely. Besides, who else would have such a perfect voice if not but in a dream? “You’re taking him?” a voice, the innkeep, Hob was pretty certain, asked somewhere to his left. “I am.” Hob’s limbs felt weird, now that he thought about it. They were weak, like how they are after a long hunting trip in the cold, or [ANOTHER REASON HERE]. He tried to raise his arm. He thinks he succeeded? It was hard to tell. He couldn’t feel any wind or warmth. It was truly like he was in a void. Was he? Finally, a sense of panic grew in his gut. He doesn’t know why it took this long to feel this way. He should have felt panicked the moment he opened his eyes and appeared to have gone blind, but better late than never. Frantically, Hob raised his hands to his face and thank the gods, he can actually feel his fingers against his cheeks. He climbs higher, reaching towards his eyes only to find nothing in front of them. Cautiously, he pressed a fingertip to his eye. His eyes are, indeed, open. There’s no lids in front and he can feel the coarse pads of the calloused tips rub against the soft jelly of his eyes. A hand grabs his wrists. The skin is cold, like they had just pressed their hand in a bank of snow and left it there. Hob jerks back at the sudden sensation, but finds himself stuck in the unnaturally strong grasp. “Peace, Robert Gadling.” Ah, so the voice belongs to Mr. Frozen hands. Not that that calms Hob down any. He pulls, testing the grip, and finds that the hand do not move. Not unlike stone. “I beg of you, my lord, he is not from here. He did not know what the fire meant.” My lord? Hob’s stomach sank. The innkeep’s story flashed through his mind. The Raven King, the otherworldly lord of this land. The one that takes with him someone from the village every fifty years as a… sacrifice. “And would you rather I chose another, Alice Thornan?” The innkeep was silent. Unsurprising, but hurtful nonetheless. Hob scoffed. Sacrificed. That was to be his fate. Hob couldn’t find it in himself to be very disappointed, all things considered. If this spared the life of another in the village, then so be it. At least he’d go out saving a life. Surely that would count for something towards his place in the afterlife. Perhaps the gods would even be kind and allow him to reunite with his dear Eleanor and sweet Robyn. Hob could hear some sort of shifting of fine grain or sand of sorts in the background. Then, the gentle rustling of feathers, like a bird preparing for flight. And then that deep voice called to him once more. “Prepare yourself, Robert Gadling. We are leaving now.” The hands that held his wrist left, the almost numbing cold vanishing with it. Moments later, two rather thin arms rucked themselves around his body, one underneath his legs, the other around his back, and lifted. Hob felt almost like a bride, being carted through the entry of her new home. He wonders briefly if Eleanor felt like this all those years back. Although he doubts he felt as cold as the stranger did. Tucked against the sturdy, but still freezing chest, of the Raven King had Hob shivering in his thin bedclothes. If wherever he was being carted off to for sacrificial rituals or whatnot was a long journey, he might die from the chill before making it there.