#and eventually do a masterpost once i finish this out

[starry-bi-sky]

I am procrastinating homework and finals studying so I'm making another DPxDC au -- or more accurately, I am making an au of an au. or combining two aus to make a third one, because I am Procastinating And thinking about it.

(the part two for my Danny is Jason Todd au is like,,, half-made and I will get around to finishing it, promiiissse)

So the two aus I had in mind were combining, of course, the two clone aus - the Danny Clone and the Damian Clone au. For folks who haven't seen either posts (or saw one but not the other) here are summaries of both:

Damian Clone Au: The LoA make a clone of Damian Wayne specifically to either kill Damian Wayne and have the clone take his place as the heir to the LoA, or to bring him back. At 6 years old though and through magical teleportation mishaps, Baby Damian ends up in the warehouse district of Amity Park and picked up (and later adopted) by Danny Fenton. They develop a brotherly dynamic with one another.

Danny Clone Au: Danny is straight up a clone of Bruce Wayne, doesn't find out until a year after he has his accident. And, for the fun of it, is also mostly-powerless (he retains his ghost sense and a semblance of a ghost core and signature, but no ghost form). His reasoning for becoming Phantom is because he has walked into the lab watching his parents dissecting ghosts post-portal working more times than he can count. And due to this, changes his beliefs from "ghosts are evil" to "ghosts are sentient and sapient beings who don't deserve this treatment". (masterpost pinned on my blog, its currently incomplete) He is also a little GNC, as a treat. Long-haired Danny ftw. Ellie is a halfa because of the ectoplasm that Vlad used, and also the same age as Danny. They call each other twins and she is viciously protective of him. He uses a baseball bat and brass knuckles that I call 'jawbreakers' to fight ghosts.

Now admittedly, not much probably changes with the combination of these aus other than the potential parallels between Damian and Danny, and Bruce and Damian - and of course, I am always a sucker for parallels. Plus Damian's running off would take Danny finding him much longer, since he can no longer fly, but all the more meaningful because he still took so much time to find him.

(It probably also makes their first meeting different as well - Danny wears a ROTTMNT Casey Jones Jr. esq. mask when he goes out, but Damian would recognize lazarus green anywhere. He'd probably try harder to kill him though once he sees his face, since he knows that its not his father but an imposter.)

It also includes what I consider a hilarious conversation: "Since I'm a clone of Bruce Wayne, does this make me your dad or your brother?" "Don't be an idiot, laeazir." "You didn't answer my question."

The biggest change that comes from this is, of course, the fact that Danny now no longer has a leg to stand on with the "you're a human, I am a ghost" excuse in order to prevent Damian to help him with ghost-fighting, because now Danny is also a squishy, fleshy and fragile human just like Damian. And a human who, arguably, has less combat training than Damian and no powers to make up for it.

Now, Danny in both aus are about 16-17-ish in age, so they've had time to adapt to their new vigilante-hero lifestyle, but its still not the same as Damian's training as an assassin. Damian, unlike in the original clone au, remains insistent on his want to help Danny.

And,,, eventually wears him down after weeks or months of sneaking out after him, helping in fights, interfering, arguing, etc. Danny eventually agrees, exhausted, but he makes Damian promise, promise, that he will be careful and to focus on dodging and distraction. At least until Danny can figure out a safer alternative. He wants him as far removed from the fight as he can, he's a child for ancient's sake, after all.

Which is another issue too - if we follow Damian Clone timeline, then Damian is six years old when this happens. I'll be point blank, I do not see Danny ever actually agreeing to let a literal 6 year old go with him. SO, solution, I bump Damian's age to 7 when he arrives in the Fenton Family, and make him freshly eight years old when he finally gets Danny to agree.

It still SUCKS. He is still very much an itty bitty child, but as someone who has seen the difference between a six year old and an eight year old due to working at a daycare, an eight year old is still... slightly feasible. And an 8 year old assassin even more so (even if he hasn't trained properly in nearly a year or so)

So Danny, reluctantly, agrees to let Damian come with him on patrols.

He ghost-proofs Damian's sword (as he has since learned to do with his bat and jawbreakers), makes him a grappling hook and a Fenton thermos, and reluctantly lets Damian come with in his old LoA uniform that he appeared in (with some tailoring and ghost-proofing, because he has since begun to grow out of the uniform).

(and Danny himself also finally starts looking into alternatives to improve his own "suit" - which is all but a hoodie and reinforced jeans and a hockey mask. He needs to set an example to his little brother, goddammit.)

Then, as they're planning for Damian's eventual (dreaded on Danny's part) debut, they sit in their shared room and brainstorm for what to call Damian. "Ellie already uses the name Spirit." Danny says, sitting criss-cross at his desk with the eraser nub of a pencil chewed between his teeth.

(Behind him he has an investigative corkboard set up -- his accident left him with the ability to see ghosts not capable of being seen on the visible plane. 'Stereotypical' ghosts. Between school work, his social life, and ghost fighting, some of his downtime is spent figuring out ways to help them move on. His most recent is a cold case.)

(Bc with Danny, I loove to have him have some sort of trait that ties him in with his original counterpart. Nature vs Nurture and all that. Investigative work can be part of that.)

"What about Wraith?" Damian suggests from the floor, leaning against the bed frame while he goes over one of his english books. They've been practicing his reading and writing.

Danny furrows his brows. "A ghost seen typically shortly after or before someone's death?"

Damian nods. "Yes, it's of a similar cadence to 'Batman and Robin'."

"What's with you and your thing with Batman and Robin?" Danny asks with a playful half-smile, Damian shrugs and looks at his books. Danny sticks the eraser back between his incisors. "Phantom and Wraith... that works, though."

The first night out together, Danny fusses over Damian, making sure every bit of uniform was secured and in place -- something Damian took mild offense over. His outfit was far more reinforced than the juvenile get-up that his older brother wore.

But he let him fuss anyways. It made him loved.

"Now remember, Wraith--"

Damian interrupts him: "Yes, I know, Dany. Avoid and distract. Stay situationally aware. I fear that is something I should be telling you, however. Mother would have your head if she ever saw what your training was like."

(It was, not for the first time, that Damian wondered how his,,, "mother",,, would react if she ever met Danyal. Not good, he knows.)

Danny's shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I believe that, what with that super-secret spy--"

"Assassin."

Danny sends him a half-hearted chagrined look, "Assassin," he corrects, "organization that made you. I'm sure I'd give your mother an aneurysm." When he's finally okay with whatever make-believe issues he found with his suit, Danny reaches for the nearby side table and carefully slips on a black domino mask over Damian's eyes. It was thin, flexible, and made with some kind of material that Danny reassured was environmentally safe.

("Some kind of matieral that Wayne Industries invented awhile ago, Sam bought it for me." Danny told him when he first showed it to him.)

It was also cold. But the chill was made up for, slightly, with Danny's warmer hands smoothing it out over his skin, and ridding of any ridges that could form. Damian isn't sure entirely what Danyal did to keep it stuck onto his face, but when he touches it with his fingers he feels a very faint seam at the edge, and it doesn't budge against his hands. It felt like a second skin.

"There we go." Danny smiles, pulling his hands back. He still looks nervous. "It's not the same as my hockey mask," which sat atop his head, ready to be pulled down, "but I think a domino mask will work better for you considering your background."

He was right, a hockey mask would only hurt Damian's peripheral vision. This mask was thin enough that it didn't.

"Ready to go, Wraith?"

"After you, Phantom."

+++

Damian has much issue with Danny's suit. He can think of a million ways to make it better. It is one of the things he and Samantha Manson can get along with, and the few times they have spent time together they have brainstormed suit ideas. He knows that since Danny took him on as Wraith, he has started to look into better suit alternatives.

However. They are both aware of the same thing:

Danny is not Batman, nor Superman, nor Wonder Woman, nor Aquaman, or the Flash, or Green Arrow, or Nightwing, or any single hero on the public roster. He is also not rich like Lex Luthor or Vlad Masters or Bruce Wayne himself.

He has no money and no contacts, and thus, no way of properly improving his suit to be something even half as safe as the other supers.

And he refuses to let Samantha Manson help him find a way to fix that - even with all that money, Samantha Manson is on an allowance from her parents, and also, despite her other range of abilities, not capable of getting those materials without putting herself on a list of some sort. They are at a standstill.

Damian knows this, because he has asked.

Until one day when Danny is talking about a case he is working on and telling Damian about old adventures he had in the Ghost Zone, does he see his brother get hit with a lightbulb.

He slaps a hand against his forehead and straightens up from his swivel seat. He huffs a laugh, "Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And he turns on his heel and hurries to his bookshelf, pulling down a notebook and flipping open to an empty page.

Damian frowns, "Laeazir?"

"I know you don't like my suit, Damian," Danny says, striding over to his desk and snatching a pencil out of a cup. He begins jotting something down on the notebook. "And there's nothing I can really do about it because, well, I'm poor in comparison to my facesake, and I don't have the resources to get my hands on someone who would make me a new suit."

"Yes, we have talked about this..." Damian nods slowly, still frowning, and trying to follow his brother's line of reasoning.

Danny shoots him a megawatt, half-tilt smile, his hair tied up into a half-bun. "But! I was thinking about it from the wrong angle. I don't have the living resources to help me get a suit, but..." he trails off, staring at Damian intently.

It dinged in Damian's brain to where he was going, "But you have the undead resources instead." He says, his eyes widening slowly. Of course, of course! Danyal was ridiculously charismatic by accident, and Damian has seen plenty of times where his heart-of-gold had one or two non-hostile ghosts be incredibly grateful to him.

His brother makes a loud, 'ding-ding-ding!' sound, pointing his pencil at Damian as his smile stretches further across his face. In a few quick strides, he was sat down next to Damian and showing him his notebook. "Correct! When I first started out as Phantom a few years ago, I managed to help a ghost who called herself Taylor, and apparently she was a seamstress both in and out of life."

Damian watches as Danny writes the name at the top of the paper, and creates bullet-points down the page. "She said that in return for saving her, I should come find her in the Ghost Zone if I ever need clothes made for me. It's a one-time thing, but I was thinking that she could perhaps help make me a new suit."

Danny turns a bit pink at the ears, and rubs his neck, "I never thought much of it because I didn't think I'd ever go into the Ghost Zone, or ever need ghost clothes, so I forgot about it up until now."

A scoff forces itself out of Damian's mouth, but he is smiling. "Danyal, you are the smartest idiot I have ever met."

For the next hour, both he and Danny make a bullet point list of what both of their suits would need. Reinforcement in certain areas, gauntlets with reinforced knuckles to replace Danyal's jawbreakers. A different weapon than a bat.... a utility belt, reinforced boots. Anything they could think of.

It was Damian's idea to add a cloak to both of their suits, asymmetrical and torn at the edges for a more 'ghostly' look. They have a theme, after all. It's quite fun.

Then Danyal calls up Sam for help in drafting up design ideas. And while Danyal steps mostly to the side when it comes to the design itself, Damian and Sam fill pages with designs until coming up with one they both agreed on and like.

"What about a lightning bolt on the chest?" "Why are we using my traumatic accident as a symbol of my identity?" "Ghosts do it all the time, Danny. Ember sings about her death." "I'm not dead?" "No that won't work, Manson. Shazam already has a giant lighting bolt emblem." "Okay, but I still want to use it somewhere." "How about this?" "...That could work. Okay, now onto your emblem--"

Last was the hard part: getting into the Ghost Zone without the Fenton parents noticing the disappearance of their precious Fenton Specter Speeder. They employed Jazz's help with that. She would get the Fentons out of the house long enough for him and Danny to get into the ghost zone, hopefully find the seamstress, and cash in that favor.

They went through with their plan that following weekend. Danny tossed Damian a small jumpsuit as they both climbed into the specter speeder, but did not grab his own. He had a small duffle bag on him that he threw under the seat.

"What is this?" Damian asks, nose scrunching up at the gaudy picture of Jack Fenton's face square at the center of the chest. He held it far away from it, as if it had a disease.

"Your hazmat suit." Danny replies, settling himself into the driver's seat as the door hissed shut and he began turning it on. He had some sort of gas mask on in his lap, too small to fit Danny's head, but certainly the right size to fit Damian's. "Normally you wouldn't need it since you'd stay in the speeder, but we're both getting out once we find Taylor. It's to protect you from the ectoplasm."

A scowl forces itself across Damian's face, "You don't have one." He points out, finding seat in the passenger chair next to Danny. His arms cross over his chest, and he was not pouting.

Danny looks at him amusedly, "I have enough ectoplasm in my body that I don't need one, you however, do not." He retorts, poking a finger into Damian's ribcage pointedly. "If you don't put it on now, you'll put it on when we find Taylor."

Damian's scowl deepens, feeling petulant as he sunk into his chair. Danny turns back to the console and flips a few more switches. "I will not, it looks ridiculous." He turns it around to show Danny the Jack Fenton Face.

The Specter Speeder hums to life, and there's a moment of turbulence as it lifts off the ground. While it does, Danny turns back to him blankly, stares at the emblem, and then reaches forward and yanks it off with a scriiiiich of the emblem. He crumples it up with one hand, and throws it into a small bin at his feet.

"There, fixed." He smiles. Then turns back to the controls, taking the yoke with both hands. "And I'm calling Dad Rights; you will put it on when we find Taylor or you'll stay in the speeder."

Damian sputters, sitting up incredulously. "You are not my father." He argues.

"Teeechnically, I am." Danny says, "I'm a clone of your father, and since I am fully his clone, that makes you my son by a technicality." He says cheerfully, pushing the specter speeder forward and into the swirling green portal.

Before Damian can retort, they're passing through the portal. This was his first time going into the Ghost Zone, and for a few seconds there was nothing but bright, swirling green filling his vision. His body felt like it was being twisted and pulled, his up and down reversing and returning. It was painless, but dizzying.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like a minute, and when they exit out the other side, Damian is holding his head while his vision spots and swims. Internally, he felt like those cartoon characters when their eyeballs rolled around in their head.

The dizziness fades away slowly, and as Damian regains his sight, he notices Danny's hand splayed over his sternum, gently keeping him pressed against his seat. It fell away when Danny saw that he was alright.

"Put your seatbelt on," Danny orders, nodding to his chair. Damian listens absently, before remembering their conversation before they went through the portal.

"That is not how it works." He scowls, and, annoyingly, only gets a challenged eyebrow raise from Danny. He could see the words written on his face without Danyal ever having to say it.

Because, dangit, he was technically right. Damian refuses to say this aloud. He screws his jaw shut, and crosses his arms back across his chest.

Danny chuckles under his breath, and turns his eyes back to the ghost zone. "My point still stands, either you wear the suit, or you don't leave the speeder."

"Fine."

+++

They eventually find where the seamstress is. Through quite a lot of Danny stopping to ask questions with any friendly ghost he came across, they eventually locate an island with a strange, urban city bustling with life on it. Massive, rocky stalagmites grew from the ground, and buildings were built on top of it or around it, with strange, warping architecture.

It was oddly beautiful.

Danny parked the speeder on the side of the street with a two hour parking sign on a nearby post. As he turned off the engine, he flipped a switch on the console that darkened the windows. He unbuckles his seat, and stood up, stretching out his back with a deep groan.

"Alright, put your suit on. The windows are tinted, so nobody should be able to see into the speeder." He orders, pulling out the duffle he brought in earlier and unzipping it. He pulls out his hockey mask and the hoodie he wore out for patrol, and the notebook they'd been using to jot down ideas for their suit.

Danny even had the hindsight to write in their respective heights, and with Tucker's help, some of their measurements. While he did that, Damian sourly pulled on his hazmat suit, irritated by the need to wear it.

Unfortunately, he also had to wear the boots and gloves for 'extra precaution'. Damian nearly bites out a grumpy 'you're as paranoid as father', but holds his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Danyal that secret.

Once he was done and Danny has his hockey mask and hoodie on, Danny grabs the gas mask and helps fit it over Damian's face. It was a sleek, simple design, shaped similarly to a regular face mask, with little filters on both sides of the mouth and a clear, protective covering around the eyes and forehead. Danyal improved it from the original his parents made.

He was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

Danny checks, then double checks that it the mask is tight, then smiles. Patting Damian's shoulders before standing up fully. "Taylor's shop should be somewhere nearby." He says, grabbing the notebook and tucking it under his arm.

Damian nods, and follows him out the door and onto the busy streets.

Finding Taylor becomes remarkably quick now that they were inside her city - something that Damian silently wondered was based loosely off NYC. Danny kept a firm arm around Damian's shoulders the entire time they walked down the street, keeping the both of them on the inside sidewalk.

Barely anyone passed them a second glance, spare the few odd looks shot at Damian. Danny whispers to him the first time it happens that it's because he has no ghost core, those more attune to their signatures might've been picking up on it.

They didn't notice Danny, because he had one, albeit a weak one.

Taylor's shop has a big sign on it in logographic writing that Damian has no idea how to read. The text shifts slowly, a jambled squiggle of lines, dots, and connected curves that look like a mix of messy cursive, gibberish, and logographic alphabets. He only knows its Taylor's shop because Danny pulls them towards it, stating that it was the place.

"You can read that?" He asks, incredulous as they draw closer to the door. Danny moves his arm off his shoulder, and wraps his fingers around Damian's instead.

"Yep," He replies, then scrunches his nose up, "sort of. It's - uh--" he stumbles over a word that Damian's ears cannot comprehend, but fills his head with slight static regardless. Danny winces. "It's the written form of ghostspeak, but since I'm not a ghost, I can only read some of it. Like uh, dyslexia."

"...I see." Damian says after a moment of silence, trying to replay the word in his head. His mind can't grasp the sound.

When they enter, the door doesn't ding with the sound of a bell, but rather it makes a low scream. Nobody bats an eye to the sound, keeping to their slow search through the racks of clothes.

At the counter was a woman talking quietly to another woman, one of whom Danny recognizes, as he walks over to her.

He doesn't need to say anything, because the woman behind the counter sees him coming, and her face positively lights up with delight. "Phantom!" She cries, and gestures to come over. "I was wondering when in the high ancients you were going to come see me!"

Danny's face is obscured by his mask, but Damian knows he's smiling sheepishly with the way he tilts his head and the way he tenses his shoulders. "My bad, Miss Taylor," he says, reaching the counter and standing beside the woman she was talking to, "It kinda... slipped my mind."

Taylor waves her hand dismissively, "Well you are here now!" She replies, grinning wide. Then her eyes pop open - literally - and she puts a hand over her chest. "Oh, how rude of me!" She turns and gestures between Phantom and the lady next to him, "Miss Mabam, this is Phantom. I told you about him a couple of years ago. He saved me from humans. Phantom, this is Gigi Mabam, she funds my shop. In return I make clothes for her and her staff."

The 'Gigi' woman turns just as Danny does, and smiles wide at him. Damian narrows his eyes at her, shuffling behind Danny legs as he looked her up and down. She had silvery-white hair and purple skin, and wore a darker purple business suit, a red gem cravat at her collar, and teal cat-eye glasses.

There was a lot of purple.

"So this is the ghost-touched you were telling me about, dear!" The woman, Mabam, said. Her voice was rich and low but she spoke in a whimsical cadence. It made Damian's skin crawl, and his narrowed eyes turned into a glare. "I must thank you for saving my seamstress, it would've been quite a fizzy-wink if she had been lost to those ghosty hunters."

What were those nonsense words? Damian hated it.

"Miss Mabam here runs a five-star hotel nearby," Taylor explains, her body turned to Danny, "she also is in charge of the city's Battle Nexus."

Danny is silent for a moment, and his free hand lifts and places itself on the back of Damian's head, keeping him close. "Battle Nexus...?"

Mabam claps cheerfully, laughing low, "Oh yes! Ghosts from all around the zone come to attend and watch as their fellow haunties are ripped from limbity-limb in a blood-curdling battle!"

Danny is still as stone. "I see." He says, careful. Damian wraps his fingers around his pant leg. "Well, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I was hoping to cash in that favor, Miss Taylor?"

"Of course! What do you need?"

Danny looks down at Damian, and he looks up at him, locking eyes with the ominous green glowing from the eyeslits of his mask. He nods, and Danny looks back up. "Do you know how to make suits? Of the protective kind?"

+++

The seamstress it turns out, is capable of such a thing. And she ushers the both of them into one of the backrooms, sending off Mabam with a farewell and a promise to continue their conversation soon.

She flips through their design book, and immediately gets to work making their suits. In the end, with the help of her powers, she gets both done over the span of four hours. It's longer than both Danny and Damian want, but neither rush her.

Damian just hopes that Jasmine can keep the Fenton parents distracted for that long. She will have to.

The suits are better in real life than on paper, and Damian preens from the side in his own custom suit as Danny examines his own in front of the three mirrors. They were both dressed in all black, but whatever fabric Taylor used was of a blackest-black, turning Danyal - and Damian's - bodies into a black hole to look at. Both of them were fitted for agility, with reinforced padding around their shoulders and chests, as well as around the joints of their legs. Their boots were reinforced as well.

("It was hard to make your boots shock absorbent," Taylor explains, "since we all fly, but I applied similar stuff to what I did with your shoulders and chestplate.")

On the side of Danyal's legs were raised, black, lichtenberg-like figures that were contained to the seams and disappeared under his boots. There were similar designs going up his sleeves, with spiked gauntlets wrapped around his lower arm and hands. The knuckles were reinforced, just like he wanted.

Damian's favorite parts were their capes, however. Black like the rest of the outfit, but "wrapped" around their shoulders like an apocalyptic shawl with a back that went down to their knees, and at the hems the capes were torn and ripped like a wraith. Danyal's mask had gone through very little change. It was made of a stronger material, and Taylor had gone and made it more skull-like in its shape, with three large grills at the front, and the sides curving inward below the 'cheekbones' of the skull to better fit his face. It was still shock white, the only white part of Danyal's entire costume.

Damian's suit was almost identical. However, rather than having the seams of his suit resemble lichtenberg figures, the seams of his sleeves and upper torso were that of a black skeleton, with bone-y designs over his gauntlets and the fingers an ombre of dark red-to-black. And around his torso were raised lines that looked similar to a ribcage. The edge of his cloak was splatter a dark red as well. And he had a new domino mask that looked similar to the upper half of Danyal's mask, with the outer edges curved downward over his cheekbones. He was briefly allowed to take off the upper part of his gas mask to try on the mask.

The best part however, was that since the suits were made of material native to the ghost zone, they could also be taken off quickly and hidden in a small artifact. It was magic, is what it was. Danyal chose earrings, and Damian chose a ring.

When they got back to the Fenton house, Jazz demands a box of chocolate for her hard work. Damian thinks that's only fair as Danny takes them both out to get candy for Jazz.

+++

But other than vigilante stuff, not else much changes. Danny gets to pull a "Dad By Technicality Rule" card over Damian when he's being a brat. Danny doesn't have his run in with Rift (a ghost who portals him into Gotham) until after he meets Damian/lets Damian join him on patrol and when they get new suits.

My reason? Because I want it to happen after that point in time lol. It also makes the eventual "heyyyyy you have a clone" @ bruce much funnier to me because not only does he have a clone of HIMSELF but also THAT clone has a clone of Damian living with him.

Also when Danny destabilizes for the first time Damian is terrified for his safety. The fentons are surprisingly good at cloning, Danny hasn't had any issues up until this point in time, and that's only because he got hit with a new gun from Skulker that messed up the ectoplasm he had in his dna, which in term fucked with his own DNA.

Danny's destabilization, imo, is not "I cast you with Melt" he's not Ellie, he's not made of 50% ectoplasm. His parents surprisingly knew what they were doing, and he was human. So his destabilization should be unique to himself and different. Thus his destabilization is "I cast you with Compromised Immune System" his body slowly weakens over time as his cells destabilize. He becomes unnaturally frail and sick. Damian calls Ellie for help when Danny doesn't get up after being hit in a fight that he normally, and Ellie helps figure out that he's destabilizing. This is whats gonna happen in OG clone au too, but Ellie is going to be there rather than Damian.

It makes going to Wayne Manor after that slightly more interesting,,,

[cas-kingdom]

For drabble requests will you write

“If I have to tell you again, I won’t be this nice.” And “I can do whatever I want!”

With The Vampire Diaries or Chicago Fire pretty please? 😊

"Aw, seriously?"

Stefan groaned as he walked through the front door of the manor to find you in the exact place he had left you. Pausing for a moment to collect himself so he didn't grow too exasperated at your ignorance, he tilted his head up to the ceiling, shut his eyes, and clenched his fists at his side.

"Y/N," he said eventually, turning towards the couch. When you didn't answer, your head bobbing along to something he couldn't hear, he sighed and walked towards you. "Y/N." Again, nothing, so he flicked the back of your head. "Y/N Salvatore, if I have to tell you again, I won't be this nice."

You sighed and pulled your headphones off, whipping your head around to face your brother. “What? I was listening to a true crime podcast and it was just getting good." As your brother sighed and walked over to the bookcase, you crossed your legs beneath you and followed him with your eyes. “Honestly, I'm pretty sure it was a vampire that killed the garbageman.”

Stefan was unamused. He took books from the case and put it in a backpack. “We’re gonna be late for school.”

You scowled. “Not this again.”

“What do you mean, ‘not this again’? I wasn’t kidding when I said I enrolled us, Y/N.”

“Well, that was stupid of you." When Stefan turned to give you a look, you rolled your eyes and stood to your feet. "Why do we have to go to school, Stefan? We’re vampires.”

“Which means we need to blend in." Stefan picked up a second backpack and filled it with just as many books. You'd only been in Mystic Falls a week but Stefan had decided that school enrollment was better than sitting around. He'd attended many schools over his lifetime but you had always backed out, preferring to live your long, vampire existence in the presence of books and writing and art. This time, though, he'd taken the decision for the both of you. He knew you'd be staying at the boarding house for longer than you'd stayed in any other of your homes, and he knew you would have to make it look real.

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. With a sigh, Stefan put the bags down and walked towards you. He uncrossed your arms and held your hands in his, ensuring you couldn't escape his gaze. "Please," he said gently. "For me. For your favourite big brother."

You rolled your eyes but the hint of a smile pulled at your lips anyway. "I didn't have a lot of choice in picking favourites," you reminded him. Stefan breathed a short laugh as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I know it won't be easy," he said, "but I promise it'll be for the best. You need socialisation...friends. Soon enough you'll get bored of me and then you won't know what to do with yourself."

"I won't get bored of you," you said, leaning in to rest your forehead on your brother's chest. "But okay. I'll go to school. But I want you to know I'm not happy about it."

Stefan shut his eyes in silent relief. You were the perfect mix of your brothers, which made you a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't honestly known how the day would end, but he was glad things seemed to be going in the right direction.

"I hear you, babe," he said with a kiss to the top of your head. He pulled away and nudged you in the direction of the stairs. "Go get ready."

You spun on your heel and plonked yourself down on the couch once more to finish your podcast. "I'm always ready."

TVD Masterpost

[hehetmongi]

🏖️🐚🌊 waves along the shore | chapter one | (ateez ot8/reader) 🏖️🐚🌊

chapter one: fateful encounter at illusion bay

series summary: you just broke things off with your fiancé. out of options, you go to your family’s beach house across the country to clear your mind. you're not expecting to see familiar faces in the house next door...

chapter word count: 4.6k

pairings: ateez ot8 x reader

tags: alternate universe - modern setting, beaches, beach house, emotional hurt/comfort, healing, polyamory, fluff and smut, unconventional romance, 18+ mdni

ao3 chapter link | masterpost link

warnings: reader was involved in a past toxic/controlling relationship; this does not involve any members of ateez. alcohol consumption in this chapter.

notes: reader plays the piano and has a backstory that is significant to the plot. more notes in masterpost.

Your mother picks up the phone on the third ring. You ignore the way your stomach twists when she greets you cheerily, unaware of the storm that’s coming ahead. 

“I need you to know I’m alive and okay,” you hear yourself say. Your voice is firm and unyielding despite your nerves. “You’re the only one I’m going to tell this to, so I need you to keep this a secret.” 

The rest of your story tumbles out of your mouth without restraint. Enough was enough — after eleven months of an unhappy engagement to your fiancé, you needed to leave your life behind. 

He made it difficult to break things off. Every time you tried to initiate a breakup conversation, he’d divert somehow. Eventually, he sprung a proposal on you, and you felt you were in too deep to turn him down. Everything that followed, from the joint engagement announcements on your Instagram accounts to the wedding cake and venue planning, felt like a knife twisting in your gut. 

And then… something happened two nights ago. He hadn’t struck you, but the look in his eyes made you think he was about to: pure anger and malice, all directed at you for the first time in your relationship. 

So, fearing for your safety, you decided to run away. You’re on the road now, driving a rental car down an empty highway toward the coastline. You didn’t think you were headed anywhere specific, but you found yourself gravitating toward familiar streets and roads from distant childhood memories. 

“I left my ring on the nightstand and turned off my location,” you tell her. “He’s still at work now and doesn’t know that I left, but he’s going to be suspicious soon.”

Your mother hums on the other line. You can tell that she’s thinking, trying to give you enough time to explain yourself as she processes such difficult information. 

“I just… I know it’s a lot to process. But I really, really needed to take my life back before things got worse,” you finish. 

Distantly, a part of you wonders if you made a mistake by telling her. You hope you’ve done enough to convince her to be on your side with this. If not, you fear you might really be alone. 

“I’m just so sad,” your mom finally says, and you brace yourself for the worst. Until she continues, “that you thought you couldn’t come to me with this earlier. That you’ve been feeling this way about him for so long.” 

Your eyes well with tears. You do your best to blink them away, not wanting them to get in the way of your driving. 

“I’m with you in this,” she tells you. “And I always will be. But we need to find a place for you to hide, and fast.” 

You suck in a long, deep breath. This was your one and only plan, the only hope you really had to get away from your fiancé once and for all. If it didn’t work, then you might be stuck hotel-hopping for the foreseeable future until you can discreetly get an apartment, which would be far from ideal. 

“The beach house,” you offer, “the one I ran away to just before college. I could stay there, if it’s unoccupied.” 

Something in your stomach flutters at the memory. You’d felt lost then, too, and time at the beach was exactly what you needed to get your head on straight. Well, that and the two boys next door, all shy smiles and bumping elbows and needy kisses that still haunt your dreams, sometimes. 

Your mother scoffs. “You scared your father and me half to death back then.”

“But this time, I’m telling you in advance.”

“You are,” your mother intones, then pauses for a moment to think. You hold your breath as you hear the gears turning in her head. “It’s not that it’s occupied, sweetie, but no one’s been there in years. I think… no one’s been there since you. It’s probably all old, musty, and dirty.” 

“I’m not hearing a no,” you reply.

“I’m not telling you no,” she agrees. “And I agree with you, it’s a good place for you to hide from him for now. But I’m also saying that it’ll be difficult work to upkeep. It won’t feel like a vacation home.”

You nod. “That’s fine with me, as long as it gives me some time.” 

Your mother agrees to let you stay there, and relief instantly floods your veins. It’s a good, temporary solution for now, and you have fond memories there, both from your childhood and the time shortly after high school. Even if the house is in bad condition, all you need is to breathe some ocean air and a warm bed to sleep in at night. You can make do. 

“Another thing,” you add, merging onto the exit you need to get to the beach. You still have a long way to go. “I think… I think he might try to use you to get to me. And if he does, you should have a plan. I don’t want you getting caught up in this mess.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” your mother chides. “I’m tough. I know how to keep manipulative men away from my business.” 

You smile. “Teach me how to do that, next time I’m dating someone.” 

“I ought to teach you before then. It’s a shame that I hadn’t already,” she says, and you can tell she’s smiling fondly just from her voice. “Take care, sweetie.” 

You bid your mother goodbye, thanking her profusely for her help, and you continue on your way. 

It’s a solid three more hours of driving until you arrive at Illusion Bay, where your family’s abandoned beach house is. It’s dark by the time you arrive, and you blink away your bleary exhaustion with tired eyes as you pull in front of the house. 

There are only a handful of buildings along the coastline. The first is your family’s house, which is tiny and quaint, with small windows and a little rocky pathway that leads to the wilderness. The next is a house next door, where two boys around your age used to stay. It’s much bigger and more modern than your own, with sleek floor-to-ceiling windows and a volleyball net, among other things — you remember thinking that it could probably house around ten people, if not more, back when you visited years ago. 

There are a couple of other houses about a mile away, as well as a grocery store, a bar, and a couple of restaurants, but other than that, Illusion Beach is mostly empty. You open your car door gently, basking in the sounds of the tide hitting the sand and breathing in the salty air. 

It’s beautiful enough of a night that you’re completely unsurprised to see that the lights are on next door. You figure that whoever owns the place now must be able to make a fortune through airbnb or a similar service. It doesn’t matter much to you, though — it’s not like the people staying here will get in the way of your hiding and relaxation time if you keep to yourself. 

You pull out the spare key from its hiding spot. When you haul your suitcase inside, you’re met with the same four wooden walls you remember so clearly from your youth. Your eyes scan the perimeter of the room, zeroing in on the grand piano in the corner. 

Your heart squeezes in your chest. So much has happened to you since you were last here — college, relationships, piano competitions, moving in with your fiancé, your broken engagement — but somehow, this house has stayed the same. 

Your eyes find the piano again. Your limbs seem to move on their own, gliding toward the bench, dusting off the surface of the keys, and opening the window before you sit down. 

There’s something you’ve been itching to do. 

A beautiful sound soars through the air, reaching the ears of the eight men staying in the beach house next door. 

Well, the person playing the piano is clearly talented, at least. They pluck away at a lyrical melody with grace and poise, as if music lives and breathes underneath their fingertips. But the instrument itself needs some serious work. It sounds like it hasn’t been tuned in years, certain notes wobbling in and out of stability. 

“I must be hallucinating,” Yeosang murmurs to no one in particular. He’s staring out the window at the shore. He has a hazy, distant look in his eyes, as though he’s reliving a memory.

He can’t quite bring himself to remember it fully, but his mind conjures the memory of a girl he and Wooyoung met years ago at this very same beach. She’d played the piano for them once, getting all flustered when the two of them complimented her. All three of them had been devastatingly awkward back then, but he thinks of that time, of those memories so fondly. 

A childish part of him refuses to let go of those times. Hopes that he might be able to pick up the pieces of what they left behind, before they parted ways. 

A few moments pass. The waves creep up and back on the shore, and the piano strikes an elegant chord. 

“No,” Wooyoung disagrees from the spot next to Yeosang on the couch, just a moment later. “No, I hear it, too. The piano, right?” 

Yeosang blinks at him a couple of times, then scoffs. “A shared hallucination, then.” 

Wooyoung hits him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t be stupid. We can check it out in the morning.” 

“Mmm, alright,” Yeosang says, and leaves it at that. 

Later, about an hour after the piano music has stopped and Wooyoung has curled up in Yeosang’s lap, one of their other friends, San, appears in the doorway. Yeosang raises an eyebrow at his outfit, a tight black tank top that leaves little to the imagination and acid wash jeans that do little to conceal anything in his pants. 

“I’m gonna head out to the bar,” he announces. “Either of you wanna come with?” 

Yeosang shakes his head. From his lap, Wooyoung sighs. 

“Don’t do anything too crazy or Hongjoong’ll kill you,” Wooyoung warns. There’s a clear sense of concern in his eyes, which San seems to dismiss. 

“I never do,” San declares simply, and then he’s out the door. 

You don’t know what compelled you to come here, but you’re glad you came. 

Your family’s beach house, while a welcome reprieve from the apartment you lived in with your fiancé, was still stifling in its own ways. The dust on every surface made you sneeze. The piano didn’t sound right, years of neglect without maintenance making your favorite pieces sound tacky. Worst of all was the feeling like you were being watched by your younger self, like you’d let the little girl inside of you down by existing in an area meant only for memories. 

You decided that you didn’t want to get through the night alone. In a burst of confidence, you decided to go to the bar. You’re only wearing comfortable clothes, so you’re not really dressed for the occasion, but you don’t feel too out of place considering the atmosphere. 

The bar is quieter than you expect — it is a weeknight, but it’s also the middle of the summer, so you’d expected to see more than a handful of people here. Most of the people here are older than you, maybe in their fifties or sixties, and keep to the groups they arrived with. Even still, it’s nice to be around their lively conversations. It sucks you away from your own life and into another world, putting things into a new perspective. 

Everything shifts when a man sculpted from marble walks through the door. 

He is tall and broad, with big, bulky shoulders and a narrow waist that has your eyes bugging out from their sockets like a cartoon character. He is brimming with confidence and bravado, smirking at the bartender as they fire quips back and forth at each other. 

Your pulse quickens under your fingertips when he slides into the stool just a few seats away from you. You feel your heart jackhammering in your chest when his gaze drags up and down your body, taking in your old t-shirt and jean shorts that you’ve been driving in all day and smiling invitingly. 

“Hey,” he flirts, voice as smooth as silk, “can I buy you a drink?”

You’re nodding eagerly before your mind catches up to your body, desperate for some liquid courage in your system. It’s been a while since you’ve been so openly flirted with, openly desired by anyone, your ex fiancé included, and a part of you worries you might be coming across as desperate but most you simply doesn’t care. 

He laughs at your response and it sounds silly (dorky, even), but that only endears you to this stranger more. 

The two of you get to talking over drinks — his name is San, he’s a performer staying in the area with some friends, and he really wanted to meet someone new tonight — and the conversation flows easily at first. You get the sense that he’s charming, but you don’t feel like he’s trying too hard to charm you. It’s easier for you to feel comfortable when it’s clear to you he’s being genuine, so gradually, you feel your nerves ebb away. 

But when the conversation turns to you, you clam up. 

“Your name, at least?” he smiles, revealing a little dimple on the side of his cheek. “And maybe how you ended up here, of all places? It’s not exactly a popular location.”

You decide something at that moment — you feel safe with him, safe enough to let him in a little bit. He doesn’t need to know all of the details, but at the end of the day, maybe a stranger’s comfort is exactly what you need. 

“Y/n,” you concede.  

San’s eyes sparkle a little. “Pretty.”

“Thank you,” you twist at the hem of your shirt. “I, um, I don’t really know how else to say this, but I think you should know something.” 

You glance up at him. You have his attention now, his eyes brimming with quiet curiosity. 

“I’m here because I ran away from my fiancé,” you admit, lowering your voice to a whisper. You feel your gaze flutter away towards the door. It’s more difficult to say it out loud than you anticipated. “Things were bad for a while and it got… really, really messy. I needed to get away from him, from my whole life back home. So I’m kinda in hiding.” 

You feel a light touch, just a brush of fingertips against the back of your hand. When you look back up, San’s eyes are on you, eyebrows drawn low. 

“That must have been a really hard decision to make,” he says. “To just leave everything behind like that.” 

You sigh. “I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet. I’m just worried he might try to find me to take me back, or worse.” 

A beat of silence passes, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Eventually, San strokes lightly at your hand again, just another graze. 

“Y/n,” he asks, his voice softer around your name. “Is this okay?” 

You nod quietly as he encases your hand in his own. Your breath hitches a little at the warmth, how kind and gentle his calluses feel as he rubs back and forth between your knuckles. 

“I know this is going to sound forward. But as long as we’re both here together, I’m here for you,” he comforts, keeping his voice low and intimate. “If you want a shoulder to cry on, someone to kick your ex’s ass, someone to spend the night with,” he winks at you, and you giggle, “anything.” 

A little fire kicks up in your gut at that last option. The drinks are working their magic inside your belly, you think, because suddenly you don’t feel all that shy anymore. 

“Why don’t we have another drink and see where it takes us?” you offer. 

The smile San gives you in return sends a delicious shiver down your spine. 

Another hour or so of conversation with San brings you outside with him. He leads you out of the bar with his arm loosely wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as you walk down the beach. 

You’re not drunk, just a little wobbly, but the alcohol has eased your nerves a considerable amount. You’d even go so far as to say you’re comfortable with him now, which feels like a complete 180 from where you were when he first walked into the bar. 

You blanch, though, when you realize what house he’s directing you towards. Without realizing it, you stop in your tracks, gaping a little at the house next door to your own. 

“What’s wrong, y/n?” San asks, tapping your shoulder gently. He’s been all smiles and flirty whispers in your ear since you left the bar, but he seems to take your reaction as a point of concern. “I can just take you home, if you changed your mind.” 

You shake your head. “That’s not it, I just…” 

Memories come back to you in flashes, striking somewhere deep in your gut. You, sitting at the piano, putting on a little performance for two boys your age when you ran away before college. Your shy blushes as they praised you, their kind touches against your skin, what happened afterwards… 

It’s the most erotic memory of your life. 

Just as soon as the memories surface, though, you swallow them down. That’s not important now, not tonight. 

“I’m actually staying in the house next door, and I’ve been in this house before,” you explain to San. You try to force your voice to sound chipper. “So you kinda surprised me! That’s all.” 

“What a coincidence,” San says, relief in his tone. He squeezes your shoulder. “I think all of us thought that house was abandoned, though.”

“No one’s been there in a while,” you admit, then ask, “wait, what do you mean, all of us? ” 

“I’m staying with some friends right now,” he tells you sheepishly, “but don’t worry, they’re chill, and I know a place that’s pretty private inside where they won’t hear us. C’mon.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “A private place, huh? I bet you I’m not the first person you’ve taken up there.” 

“You are the first, actually,” he smirks, before you can needle him on that, he leads you in. 

You don’t see a single glimpse of San’s friends inside the house, but the space is definitely lived-in. There are plates in the dishwasher, duffel bags on the floor, and, to your delight, music theory textbooks strewn across the coffee tables. You’ve been inside this house before, but it looks markedly different than when you were just out of high school, as if it were remodeled in the time you’ve spent away. 

Before you can see much else, San takes your hand and leads you up a winding staircase. You feel your knees wobble, but he’s there to guide you every step of the way, lifting you in his arms the second you reach the top of the stairs. 

He presses a hungry, needy kiss to your lips as he carries you through the threshold of what you presume is his room, closing the door with his hips. His lips are slick against your own, teasing a quiet, breathy moan out of your mouth as he sucks delicately on your tongue. 

“Such a pretty voice,” he marvels, which has you crumpling against him. 

Then he’s laying you down gently onto the mattress, slotting a knee in between your legs to part them. You’re embarrassed at how wet you already are, hours of flirty conversation winding you up more than you thought. Your fingers twitch along the hem of your own shirt, wanting to get a move on but not knowing how fast San wants to take things. 

“Feeling shy?” he asks, pulling away from you a little to take in the sight of you on his mattress. His hands dance at your clothed sides, sending more delicious shivers in their wake. “There’s no need to be, baby, but if you’re more comfortable, we can do this in the dark.” 

You shake your head. “No, that���s not it. I just… didn’t know how fast you wanted to take things tonight.” 

San huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, I’m okay with anything you’re okay with,” he says. His hand finds your hip, just under the hem of your shirt, and starts drawing little comforting circles against the side of your stomach. “You can take the reins. How do you want me?” 

Your eyes widen at his words. You can’t remember the last time you had even some semblance of control over the pace of sex. Maybe with previous partners, but not with your fiancé. 

In terms of a choice, you can imagine enjoying San doing any number of unspeakable things to you. His hands, from where they graze against your skin, seem practiced and deliberate. You remember the press of his cock against your shorts, too, which makes you feel a little weak in the knees, but most of all… 

Arousal floods inside of you at the idea of coming apart on his tongue. You haven’t been eaten out in ages — your fiancé always insisted on not doing it, which you agreed could be a boundary for you at the time — and you had to admit, you missed it. With San’s confidence, you thought he might be open to eating you out, so…  

“You look like you want something,” San notices, diving in to press a gentle, heated kiss at the corner of your mouth. His thumb rubs a little farther up your body this time, closer to the cup of your bra. “C’mon, tell me baby…” 

“Your tongue,” you whisper, scarcely audible. 

You can tell San hears it by the way his eyes light up, but his smirk is still teasing. 

“You’ve gotta ask me louder, I can’t hear you when you whisper like that.” 

You feel your cheeks go pink. How far was this teasing going to go? Did he want you to beg for it? Did… you like the idea of begging for it, for him? 

“Your tongue, please,” you say, a little louder this time, and then he’s surging back into you, crashing his lips into yours. 

He gets into position, then, between the apex of your thighs, and makes quick work of his shirt and pants. You can see his cock straining against his black boxer briefs, and you allow yourself a little pride in knowing that you did that to him. 

Before you can bask in that feeling, though, he’s dipping his hands under your shirt. 

“Only if you want,” he urges, but you’re pulling it off your body before he can finish. 

After, San unclips your bra, kneading your breasts softly in his hands before kissing at them. You feel yourself grow wetter as he swirls one nipple around his tongue, and then the other, letting you squirm into his touch until your hands find his bare shoulder, squeezing at them in warning. 

“I need you,” you tell him, all breath and want. 

He chuckles a little, lifting your ass gently to put a pillow underneath it, then helps you shimmy out of your jean shorts and underwear. He discards them with a careless fling across the room, his attention taken by your naked form. 

He traces the shape of your curves with his eyes and smiles appreciatively. You swat at his shoulder, feeling a little over exposed but not uncomfortable with it, and then you feel the laugh in your diaphragm melt into dripping desire. 

Then San attaches his lips to your cunt. 

You moan immediately at the contact — actually, it’s more of a low pitched scream, which embarrasses you to no end. San, however, just makes a pleased, intrigued noise against your slit. 

“My ex, ah, he never…” you start, by way of explanation. 

“Bullshit,” San groans into your pussy before you can explain. His tongue traces a titillating pattern up your slit, sending waves of pleasure down the length of your spine. “Fucker had such a pretty, sensitive pussy all to himself and did nothing about it.” 

You moan into the back of your hand, unable to stifle all of the ways he’s making you feel. The dirty talk, his tongue, his unabashed appreciation for your body, it’s almost too much. Your brain is swimming in pleasure, in San, and it strikes you just how lucky you are, that you ended up in bed with him tonight. He was the perfect person to distract you from the hell your life has turned into, and you can’t imagine getting any luckier than this. 

“Baby,” San whispers, his tongue zigzagging against your most sensitive spot. You’re squirming, now, writhing into his touch. “I’m going to put my fingers inside, is that okay?”

“ Please,” you say, a little louder than you intend. 

You’re rewarded with two slick fingers at your opening, pressing into your heat in a slow, gradual rhythm. You groan at the pressure, eyes rolling back as he takes his time with you, working you up to your peak. 

As soon as you spread your legs apart further, his tongue is back on your clit, sucking obscenely between praises of good girl and you take me so well against your most sensitive parts. You feel your orgasm nearing, your back arching to press your heat farther into his mouth. 

“I’m coming,” you cry out, unable to stop the wobble from your lips. “San, I’m coming, I’m—”

“That’s right,” he tells you, spitting onto your clit and rubbing hard and fast with another finger. The stimulation is so much, so good, and suddenly you’re coming with a cry of his name. 

You twitch in his bedsheets as he coaxes you through it, whispering little praises into your cunt. Eventually, when your aftershocks seem to end, he pulls his cock out of his boxers, pumping himself quickly and firmly. 

“San,” you plead, with big, watery eyes. He turns to you and you grab your tits with both hands, putting yourself on display for him. 

“On my chest, please,” you beg, and with a groan he’s shifting, fisting his cock over your breasts. 

He comes in seconds, spurting all over your chest, and you feel yourself flush at the speed of it all — between meeting him, talking and drinking with him, coming back to this house, and ending up on his mattress, you’ve kind of sped through the steps to getting to know each other. But everything feels so good, so right, so different from what you had with your ex. In just a few short hours, San valued you more than your ex fiancé had shown you in years. 

The thought brings a complicated feeling to your gut. But more than anything, you feel spent. You know it’s risky, but you decide to take the chance. You just feel so safe with San, unquestionably so. 

So you fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep in San’s bed. You’re sleeping when he leaves for the bathroom, coming back moments later with a warm washcloth that he washes your chest and intimate parts off with. 

He envelops you in his arms, both of you snoring softly, unaware of what surprises you’d both be met with when you wake up the next morning. 

[cheesycatz]

WORMTON AU MASTERPOST

"Spamton G. Spamton is just a normal spam program making ends meet by tricking darkners into buying his garbage. At least, that's what he tells a blue addison he accidentally wins over, as well as their friends. He won't fall for their genuine words and pure compassion, though. A salesman and a manipulator are one and the same, and neither can trick the other.

…right?"

AKA: Spamton, but he represents a computer worm as a darkner. He's some sort of 15 foot long fluffy parasitic alien centipede worm creature, and the Sweepstakes worm represents what his species's parasitic hatchlings look like after they slowly consume and kill their host from the inside out. Spamton is the last of his species left after they were exterminated (representing a computer worm being downloaded onto a computer and eventually fought off). He wears a disguise to hide his worm status so that he may interact with the general public without being reported and killed by an antivirus. He doesn't meet the addisons until after the extermination of his species. Hope he doesn't form any emotional attachment that would be severed if they found out what he really was, haha

This AU exists mostly in the form or art and text posts, but I am currently working on a fanfic about Wormton and the addisons, which will start being posted to ao3 once I finish the entire rough draft.

Links below to all: lore, art, question answers, marketable plushies, and fic updates ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Lore (art included)

Initial lore post

- The basics. Describes the general characteristics, infection process and behavior of malworms (darkner version computer worms). Also describes the extinction of Spamton's species, his origins, and the setup for his interactions with the addisons.

More malworm biology

- More information on malworm culture/biology and Spamton's specific species (the BIGSHOT malworm). Woah, say that 10 times fast...uh, also more information on the extinction of Spamton's species.

Size comparison and more biology

- A sketch dump showing a size comparison between the addisons and masked/unmasked Spamton. Also features some general sketches of BIGSHOT malworms and some more information on their biology.

Spamton before he met the addisons

- A sketch page + text on some scenes from Spamton's life from before he met the addisons.

General info/designs of malworm genera

- Not much Spamton here. It's just a look at what the other types of malworms might look like.

Art (sometimes a smidgen of lore)

Disguised Wormton Reference Sheet

True Wormton Reference Sheet

Too Many Legs (Comic based on the fic)

Spamton and the addisons (pre-reveal)

Annoying Mouse Room™ Infinite Food Hack

The Worm Nest

How Wormton's costume works

Pros of not having a spine

Late night worm posting

What a Wormton NEO would look like

Wholesome Wormton Content

Hatchling Spamton my beloved

Malworm Hoodie Design

Q&A

My asks are open, so feel free to ask me any questions about my AU or art in general (within reason, obviously)! I like drawing responses when applicable, so feel free to give me a wormton drawing request and I might consider it.

Asks from Instagram about lore

Plushies

Can malworm/wormton fanart be made? (Yes pretty please I would love fanart)

Maximum lifespan of malworms?

I have so many of these things god help me

My Worm Collection

Spamton Plush Wormton Outfit

16 ft long Life-Size Wormton Plush

Fic Updates

The Making Of: Life-Size Wormton Plush

Sometimes I post art and some thoughts about the Wormton AU fic I am working on. I won't be publicly posting it until I finish the rough draft of the entire story. I'm doing my best, but I'm also dealing with life's responsibilities and making other art. I have no idea for a release date yet, but I don't plan on giving up.

Once the entire story has reached a first-draft state, I will finish each chapter one by one and post them as I do. As previously mentioned, chapters will be released on ao3 once finished. As of 08/02/24, it is: 142k words long

86k words update

100k words update

111k words update

120k words update

132k words update

142k words update

Thank you for enjoying my silly little AU, I love reading your tags

[ckkitanitayuun]

FFXIVWrite2024 : Masterpost Prompt 2 : Horizon Title : Everyday's An Adventure Summary : It not like Kit to be up before Olly, but today is an exciting day - they're finally leaving for Tural!

[Read below, or over on AO3]

Kit emerges from the bathroom, hair still wet after her shower, and toothbrush still in her mouth as she’s not done brushing, as she frowns at Olly, still sound asleep. She gives him a gentle but firm shake. Nothing. Sighing, she returns to the bathroom. It's not every day you'll see her up and about before him, and even though they have plenty of time before they have to be anywhere, Kit was like a kid at Starlight Celebration. She'd hardly slept due to her excitement, and now that the sun was just about up, she'd decided they should be up too.

After finishing with her teeth, she returns to Olly's bedside, shaking him with both hands this time. He groans a little, and she groans back at him in frustration as she shakes him again. Today, they were off to new horizons! Somewhere even Kit hasn’t been: The New World, Tural!

"Lets gooo!" She insists, climbing onto the bed and straddling him just so she can shake him more vigorously.

Olly yawns, trying to turn over only to realize she's preventing him from doing so. He peeks at her with one eye open, surprised to see her already dressed, and then tries to drift back to sleep.

"Geddup!" Kit bounces, droplets from her hair showering down on him. "Geddup! Geddup! Geddup!"

"Geddoff!" He eventually replies.

"No!"

"Well, then I won't be going anywhere."

"Ollyyy!!" She groans at him, shaking him again.

"I can't go anywhere with you sitting on me, can I?" He teases, stretching before yawning once more and opening his eyes finally.

Kit hops off, grabbing the bed sheet and attempting to pull it off him.

"Are you even packed yet?" Olly asks as he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

"I travel light!" Kit replies proudly. "Everything I need fits right in here." She taps a small bag strapped to her thigh, grinning widely.

Olly sighs. He knew it'd be down to him to back an actual travel bag - and luckily, he'd already done it. All that was left to do was throw in a toothbrush, hairbrush, and the likes of things he had yet to use this morning. But before he can even get his mental checklist in order, Kit's yanking at one of his arms to hurry him up. Best to just go with it. Mostly.

As he stands, and she begins ushering him towards to the bathroom, he plays at being more asleep than he really is, pretending to be confused as to which way he should be going until she gets behind him and starts pushing him forward - which of course, he resists somewhat, forcing Kit to put more effort into this than she really needs to. Until he jolts forward just enough that the force behind her pushing almost knocks her off her feet. And with a quick turn and a kiss to her forward, Olly disappears into the bathroom, leaving Kit a little stunned as a blush creeps onto her cheeks.

They've been together a good while now, but Olly still manages to catch her off-guard. It took Kit a long time to really settle into things, and even though her anxieties around relationships may never truly fizzle-out, she's reached a stage of contentment with Olly that she never thought possible.

Her ears turn to the sound of the shower as it interrupts her thoughts, and she notices the steam coming from the bathroom. Olly had left the door ajar. Her pupils dilate as the temptation calls to her.

No. She shakes her head. She’s fully dressed and ready to g-

Oh, who is she trying to kid!? Of course that mischievous grin sets-in as she not-so-sneakily makes her way into the bathroom, flinging her clothes out the door, and tackling Olly in the shower.

[skyfallscotland]

Hi! I'm Amy (She/Her)

I write fanfic, which you probably already know if you came here from my AO3 page (where I go by hurricane).

Currently I'm writing for Fourth Wing.

My favourite colour is green, I love Taylor Swift and Fall Out Boy, and I hate spicy food (but love spicy books).

Below you'll find links to my work/fandom masterposts & some FAQ

✧ Fandoms/Works

Fourth Wing

ACOTAR

✧ FAQ

Do you have an update schedule?

Not really. Sometimes it's once a week, sometimes twice, sometimes not for weeks (though I try to only do that in between projects), it really depends on the hyperfixation.

How do you write so much?

I get super anxious about starting things and not finishing them (and then having people asking me about them) so I try to write ahead before posting, so it isn't always in real time. I do however write on average (based on year to date) 2.5k words a day, which I guess is a lot for most people? The simple answer is I don't work full time and I try to write everyday.

What's your writing process?

I prefer writing either in the morning or later at night. I always write in bed, propped up against the headboard. Sometimes if I'm home alone I'll venture out to the kitchen and feel supremely uncomfortable for no reason, so I quickly return to my low-lit cave.

I just write what I'm inspired to write when I'm inspired to write it. I've learned not to force it, that just makes writer's block worse!

Do you have any writing advice?

I do! I get asked this a lot, so I wrote a masterpost: Part One—the advice & Part Two—the resources

Can I bind your fic?

At the moment my stance on fic binding is that it’s fine if it’s only for personal use and not for sale, profit, distribution or commission. Please don’t use commercial companies like print houses (due to legal issues). I feel very strongly about fanworks being and remaining free, and the way fic-binding has been commodified recently worries me 💖

Do you allow translations of your work?

You’re bilingual, that’s so cool! I appreciate you asking 💗 I believe in fanfiction being accessible to everyone. I would request however at this time that any translations of my work be kept on AO3—there’s a checkbox you can tick to link it as a translation.

Can I use a scenario in your fic for my own or write something inspired by your fic?

Mostly, yeah. See my in-depth answer/thoughts on this here.

Can I use your characters for a fic of my own?

I respectfully ask you not to at this time. All my original characters from my series' are very close to my heart, especially Remi (the one people ask about the most) and their stories are not yet finished! So there's more you guys don't know about them. At the moment, I'm a bit sensitive about it and I'd like to keep them close. If you do still write something inspired by them, it's also highly likely I won't read it, at least until I'm finished the series. Thanks for understanding.

What else are you working on?

I have a dozen fic ideas for Fourth Wing, at least four of which I've already written bits and pieces of while working on Basgiath (Remi's Version). I don't run on any kind of schedule though, they'll see the light of day when they do and if they don't, then they won't!

I also have two original novels I'm writing, one of which I hope to finish in the next couple of months (it's in the plotting stage!) 🥰

Will you ever come back to ACOTAR?

I plan to at some point, hopefully this year! I just want to get through some of these Fourth Wing ideas while I'm still inspired and eventually I'll come back to write Callie's story and maybe some Feysand, or an Eris fic. It's tough because I've been writing that series in third and my FW works have me in first person mode. I find it very hard to switch between them.

Do you have any fic recs?

I do! Only for Fourth Wing at the moment, you can see them all here. I'm slowly adding to the list/collection 🌟

[ask4mycashapp]

The pillars reactions to their traine thats super physicaly strong (like raw strength)

Their in a spar match and they just pick them up and bitch slam them on the floor straight on their back 😭

hii, i only write for 4 of the pillars, (mitsuri, obanai, sanemi and muichirou) so if they arent the specific onws you wanted im sorry abt that. here you go though 🤲🏼.

obanai, mitsuri, muichiro and sanemi with a vv physically strong trainee!

obanai:

• uhm excuse me... what the hell???? 🤠

• hes so confused

• if you could body slam the shit out of him why are you trying to train under him???

• like for all that you can rip the demons head off with with your hands! you dont need to learn how to wield a sword from him 😭.

• when oyakata first brought you to obanai to be his trainee he genuinely thought you were weak too ☠️.

• mans was like, "ha look at this dumbass they dont even know how to wield a sword 🥱"

• and you probably heard him bc that body slam seemed so personal-

• hes sorry just dont do that again, hell teach you serpent breath and everything :,).

mitsuri:

• omgomg OMGGGG

• shes always wanted a trainee! shes so exciteddd

• she almost forgot she had to spar with you to test your current skill. she just wanted to get straight into teaching you breath of love or helping you make your own breathing technique!

• but obanai reminded her and here we are now.

• shes still excited though! she even emphasized not to go easy on her, so you sadly had to body slam the nicest woman alive.

• but shes not mad, shes actually so impressed.

• shes extremely physically strong too you know! shed probably challenge you to a sparring match without weapons, who knows who will win! probably not you.

• anyway she thinks youre extremely cool and shes excited to see how strong youll be with a sword!

muichiro:

• see he was supposed to start your training like... last week? he doesnt know, he forgot.

• another thing he forgot, like mitsuri, was that he had to spar with you. unlike her though he didnt forget because he was excited he just deadass forgot.

• once yall were starting and he saw you didnt have a sword he immediately got defensive.

• hes forgetful not dumb, oyakata would not make him train you if you werent strong. so that means if you cant use a sword your probably as strong as the fuckin hulk.

• so since hes prepared, you probably wont be able to get to body slam him, but for the sake of this hc lets say you do.

• hes more annoyed than anything ☠️.

• hes like, "wtf that was mad uncalled for. now my back hurts. i cant even watch the clouds now because it hurts for me to lay down bc of you, dickhead."

• i hc sassy muichirou

• hell forgive you eventually probably.

sanemi:

• i love sanemi i promise not more than muichiro 🙄 but he would be the biggest dh ever.

• hed def be like "now why the actual fuck would i train a dumbass that doesnt even know how to use a sword??? you have to be really fucking talentless to-"

• he got bodyslammed before he could finish.

• contrary to probably what everyone would think, he smiles.

• he probablys like, "okay maybe i was being a douche, you might have a little potential."

• thats the best your gonna get from him so take it.

• in the end you got some respect from sanemi shinazugawa himself, be proud.

masterpost

[bhaalbabebardlock]

Writing Masterpost

I have a lot of ~feelings~ about having to shift my pinned post from my long fic after almost three months. I'm shocked that I've started writing other things, but here we are. 🫣✨

The OCs of My Stories

~If it isn't a one shot, it has its own masterpost in addition to being listed here~

Daisies | Jabberwock Skull

Nature's Gifts | Hand That Feeds

---------------------------------

Messages | AO3

Writer's Discord | Dead Dove Discord

All BG3 related writing, summaries, and links below the cut!

Longfics

---------------------------------------------------

Daisies On My Nightstand (AO3)

Tumblr Masterpost

(I stopped regularly updating chapters here since the fic has gotten so long, but there's background information/pictures of Ilara and some chapters were posted here originally!)

This is my longfic! It is so long. It is my baby. It is now longer than return of the king somehow. It has too many tropes, it has a slow burn romance, it has dark romance. There is Raphael and Gortash and Astarion and Shadowheart and. A lot. I mean a lot. I update chapters daily on a semi regular/consistent schedule. Please please be mindful of tags and chapter notes!

Summary:

The story of a Bhaal-Spawn who only ever wanted to be free.

Ilara would do anything for the people she loves, having never been freely allowed to do so before- including killing her past, denouncing her God, and damning 7,000 souls. Can she save herself, let alone anyone else?

--story has finished first half, see below for second half--

---------------------------------------------

The Wasteland Crown (AO3)

Tumblr Masterpost

Ilara started out wanting her own freedom, and continuously sacrificed it to save the people she cares for- somehow always fumbling everything in the process.

Was it worth it?

Can she save any of them still?

Can she even save herself?

-- the second and final half of the story about a Bhaal-spawn who is only trying to figure out what freedom, choices, power, and love even mean.--

--------------------------------

Nature's Gifts on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Self indulgent filthy smut that was supposed to be a one shot and now isn't. Tadpole smut and something going on with both Astarion and Gale and the weird little druid they're hanging out with. 😌

Unlike my other long fic, this is unlikely to be updated DAILY but will be updated often.

Major tags (others on AO3): m/f, m/f/m, inappropriate use of tadpoles, smut that grew feelings and plot

Summary:

If you're all stuck with these tadpoles anyway, is there really any harm in seeing what they can do?

She let her mind wander, finding herself aggravated more than anything when those thoughts turned to Astarion, to the way his lips had brushed against her ear. She let out an agitated breath as she thought of how he felt laying on top of her, his mouth against her pulse a few nights ago. The way she felt him trying to still his hips against hers, it was just a taste after all. It was just one bite. It's not like any clothes came off. And it certainly hasn't happened again.

But what if it did?

------------------------------------

Tandem on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

A series of one shots told in no specific order about my evil durge, Lili(th) and her sole companion, Astarion. Some will be fluff, some will be smut, some will just be unhinged probably. This won't update often but they'll be around 💕

Major tags (more to be added): blood drinking, canon typical violence, eventually there will be more.

--------------------------------------

The Hand That Feeds

Summary: After throwing the Karsus Crown into the Chionthar at the risk of losing her sanity, Lili has only Astarion to keep her grounded. Until she's kidnapped by someone that she held hands with, once, months ago.

Important tags: toxic Gale, creepy/yandere gale, god!Gale, asc!astarion, kidnapping, non-con, forced love

---------------------------

Slithering from Eden

Summary: A reader insert Stardew crossover featuring the dark urge and AA.

Important tags: canon typical violence, excessive gore, vampires, major character death

-----------------------------------

The Jabberwock Skull

Summary: a post canon AU Alice in Wonderland horror story featuring Lili as she stumbles her way through an increasingly odd and horrific time. Second person POV.

Important tags: dead dove: do not eat, memory loss, extreme descriptions of violence, body horror

AO3 Link | Masterpost

---------------------------------

✨One Shots✨ (all nsfw)

----------------------------------------------

Ruin

Tumblr Post

Full story on AO3

One shot, single chapter; 3,859 Words. Reader x Astarion;

Important tags: major character death warning, sad smut, explicit, F/M

Summary:

Five years after walking away from The Vampire Ascendant and everything he offered to you, you've returned to stop him from wreaking havoc on Baldur's Gate. That turns out to be harder than you think.

------------------------------------------------

The End

Tumblr Post

Full Story on AO3

One shot, single chapter; 3,118 words

Tags: major character death warning, smut, F/F

Summary:

Second person Shadowheart POV.

After taking her place as Bhaal's chosen, your lover decided at the last moment to destroy the crown and give up her claim. You have one last night together.

-----------------------------------------

Weakness

One shot (so far, I might add more eventually); 1,286 words. Was done for a prompt, the prompt is revealed at the end.

Summary:

Astarion POV, first person.

Tav has come to find you in Baldur's Gate after disappearing years ago. Why?

"That would be showing a weakness, a vulnerability that I can longer afford. If it was ever something I could have afforded to begin with. Arguably, it hadn't been. She wormed her way between the cracks of my defenses, not even realizing what she was doing until it was too late. Until I was too far gone to stop her. "

------------------------------------------

Underdark Fever

Summary: there is no plot here, only pollen smut. NSFW! Lili and Aatarion come across some interesting mushrooms in the underdark.

[winter-dayz]

Capable

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader Android AU Genre: Smut Words: 1408 Warnings: sexual content (female receiving oral); strong language

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

He would be taken to a junkyard. I couldn’t just watch him be thrown away. A perfectly good android like him would be a crime to waste away and rust.

Sure, he was covered in oil. Some of his pieces weren’t properly screwed on, and he definitely needed new clothes and his hair brushed; but, it was nothing a little elbow-grease and effort couldn’t handle.

So of course I took him home.

🎃

It took plenty of time to get him into actual working order, but once I finished, I was glad I chose to rescue him. He was gorgeous. Not only was he physically beautiful, but his hardware was extremely high quality and mostly fully functional. I had fine-tuned any bits that seemed off, but overall, he seemed to be perfect.

I took pride in my passion projects, and he would be no different. Sadly, I hadn’t had time to boot him up, but patience is a virtue.

But finally, I had time.

He stood before me, five-foot-ten of wires, metal, and artificial skin. His hair was softer than mine, and he had facial features to die for. I turned him on, but it seemed to take longer than it should, and I wondered if I wasn’t as good at robotics as I thought.

His eyes flashed with the standard blue bootup before settling into a realistic humanoid version of eyes. The color was a deep, rich brown that was easy to get lost in. His head slowly lifted up until he stared straight ahead. And then he was still, waiting.

🎃

It took some getting used to. I had lived with roommates before, but an android was not the same. He was much quieter when moving around and was not a great conversationalist. He was a great listener though.

But something else was different about him. He seemed rather clingy for a being that was supposed to be without emotions or attachments. Maybe it didn’t help that I had named him… Maybe androids are like pets, and if you name them then you’re doomed to be attached. But I couldn’t help myself.

I refused to walk around referring to him as “android” or “robot” or anything else of the sort. So I named him Taehyung, and he seemed to like it if the tiny upturn of his lips was any indication. Then I worked on helping him with new slang, tweaking his vocabulary and speech to sound more human-like.

But that still didn’t explain the touchiness. It started out with him occasionally laying a hand on my shoulder. Then, he began sitting closer to me when I relaxed in my living space, and he would brush his hand along my back when he passed by me in the kitchen. Eventually, he worked all the way up to resting his hand on my thigh, hugging me from behind, and petting my head.

He was acting like a lover would despite me never asking that of him. I had never seen such behavior in an android before, but I couldn’t deny that it was getting to me. I don’t know what he was trying to accomplish, but if he continued to act that way for much longer then I’d likely let him get away with whatever he desired.

🎃

“Why do you never use me for my purpose?” He finally asked me one night. It was rare that he spoke, let alone without me addressing him first.

“Your… purpose?” I stared up at him from my place on the couch, cross-legged and comfortable in my raggedy sweats and oversized tee. He moved to kneel in front of me, placing his hands gently on either of my knees.

“I was originally created as an android for sexual pleasure.” The words were monotone, but they still managed to send shockwaves through my stomach, settling in the pit of my abdomen and leaving behind an uncomfortable warmth. He had to know how attractive he was—how attracted I am to him. “I heard them say they were going to throw me away because something malfunctioned in my system code, but I can still serve my purpose. I know I can; I just need to prove it.”

“Taehyung…” I began to speak; but, one of his hands tightened ever so slightly, and he peered up at me through his lashes in a way that rendered me speechless.

“Y/N. Let me prove myself worthy of the care you gave me. I need to show you that I am not a useless hunk of metal. I was programmed to provide pleasure for my owner, and I’ve been trying to get you to initiate. However, you have seemed uninterested in my capabilities.” I stared at him in shock, quite unsure how to respond.

Apparently no response was close enough to non-refusal in his eyes, because the next minute his lips were capturing my own. He kissed well, with sensuality and care, and it became quickly obvious that this was indeed his “purpose.”

Taehyung kissed with the perfect balance between firm and gentle—not too slow or fast—and since he didn’t need to breathe himself, he monitored my breaths in order to give me time to catch my own breath.

If kissing him was that magnificent then I couldn’t imagine what fucking him would be like.

His hands slid from their place on my knees and he uncrossed my legs, draping them over his shoulders. He drew the left leg of my pants up and pressed wet, warm kisses up the length of my calf before he repeated the action on the other side. His fingers slid slowly up the inner seam of the sweats until they caught on a couple holes in the thighs—worn down from rubbing together for so long.

Taehyung easily wiggled his fingers into the holes, despite the fabrics protest, and then he promptly ripped the crotch of my sweats away. I could feel myself clench at the action, which he caught of course.

My panties were no match either, which was not surprising after the beating my old sweats took. He stared at my cunt with a hunger in his eyes that shouldn’t be possible for an android. Or maybe I imagined it in the haze of my arousal. Regardless, he didn’t hold back for much longer.

His tongue swiped through my folds, eagerly stealing away the wetness he was to blame for. His lips attached to my clit shortly after, and my back lifted from the couch in response.

He sucked at the button, rolling his tongue around it several times, before pulling away and grazing it with his teeth. My hips bucked forward into his face at the pleasure, and I expected to be pinned to the couch for doing so. Instead, he smirked up at me and dove right in.

His tongue penetrated me, licking along the walls of my insides. His hands squeezed at the flesh of my thighs, pinching at spots that he knew were sensitive. I wouldn’t last much longer at this rate and he knew it.

His right hand slid higher, joining his face to meet my pussy. His thumb rubbed slow and steady circles against my clit, teasing, as he pulled his face away from my hole. I assumed he was going to move on to fingering me, but again he surprised me. He blew cold air directly into me, causing me to clench and squirm at the temperature change. I was too sensitive, but I didn’t dare ask him to stop. I only wanted more.

His mouth connected with my pussy again; his tongue reaching impossibly deeper and curling against the spot I needed most. At the same time, his thumb increased in both speed and pressure until I felt my toes curl against his back.

My hips were lifting off the couch and one of my hands flew to fist at the curls atop his perfect head. My vision went white and dotted with black stars. Never in my life had I orgasmed so hard, so perfectly.

He pulled away when he sensed I was becoming overstimulated, and I could tell he was waiting for a performance review. I could only pant up at my ceiling, still coming down from my high.

“If it wasn’t satisfactory, I could show you some of the other things I am programmed to do.”

“Oh trust me, we’ll be going through all of your capabilities, Tae.”

[broodybuck]

In Another Timeline... | Series Part 2

Series Summary: The soldier must switch with his variant in another timeline to study the weaknesses of Steve Rogers to ultimately defeat him. But the soldier is unprepared for the relationship his variant has built with Steve and must act unsuspiciously as a committed boyfriend.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, top Steve, bottom Bucky, multiverse, alternate timelines, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1]

The morning feels slow and warm. The soldier is still trapped in Steve's arms. It's pleasant though, something the soldier isn't used to thinking.

Eventually, the blond man stirs and begins kissing the back of the soldier's neck. Humans kiss a lot in this timeline, the soldier muses. It must be quite an adjustment.

Steve turns the soldier onto his back and smiles down at him, then claims his lips in a lengthy kiss.

"Up for a run or wanna stay in bed longer?" Steve asks.

The soldier is not sure which is the correct answer. He decides to pick 'run' since the 'staying in bed' option feels too much like a trick.

They get up and the soldier follows the blond man into a walk-in closet where he begins to change into workout clothes. The soldier picks out clothes from the same space Steve does and this is his first mistake.

"Gonna wear my clothes today?" Steve says, with a look of surprise on his face.

The soldier realizes his mistake but he doesn't know how to tell which clothes are his variant's and which clothes are Steve's. So the soldier plays along.

"Yes, I would like to."

Steve smiles like he's happy with that answer. The soldier relaxes slightly and puts on the clothes.

They run many miles. The soldier keeps an exact pace with Steve and neither of them are out of breath when they return to the house. Steve makes breakfast and coffee then. The smell of it makes the soldier drool. Even during his training of feeding himself, he was served very bland foods and nothing as special as coffee.

It's almost like a lost memory slotting back into his brain. Coffee. He does remember it but he can't recall the last time he drank it. He spends a long time holding the warm mug in his hands, inhaling the steam, and taking his first sip very slowly.

Steve notices this train of events and unfortunately, deems it to be atypical for his variant.

"You okay, Buck?"

The soldier nods. "The coffee is good."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, then watches the soldier carefully.

The soldier is not sure how to act differently. If he is copying Steve which is his default in any situation then Steve is also sitting and drinking his coffee. So, the soldier has no context for any further adjustments.

"If you need your space today, that's okay," Steve says carefully as if they've had this conversation before. "Why don't you go journal after breakfast. I'll let you be."

The soldier nods and tries to smile as if he likes the idea. Hydra also taught him to respond more positively than negatively unless the subject is aggravated then stop and apologize.

"Okay," the soldier agrees.

After they eat and finish their coffee, Steve walks with him to the bedroom.

The soldier, selfishly, is thinking about last night when they enter the room. He vividly imagines everywhere Steve touched him, every sensation that ran through his body, and how damn good it all felt.

He would like to do those things again, if he's being honest. But he was never instructed to instigate any acts. So, he doubts he's allowed to ask.

He stops in the middle of the room and realizes once more he doesn't know where the journal Steve speaks of is located. He makes a mental note to catalog every object in the house when Steve is later occupied.

The soldier's hesitancy seems to add to Steve's concern and initial suggestion this morning. So he rushes to the small table on the other side of the bed and opens the drawer. He hands the soldier the journal with a pen and then squeezes both of his shoulders.

"I'll be right downstairs, okay?" Steve says. "If you need me."

The soldier nods and watches Steve walk out of the room and close the door behind him.

The journal, the soldier discovers, is a vast treasure of knowledge. His variant has documented various thoughts as well as a collection of excerpts about Steve. The soldier is elated to easily access such information.

The soldier first learns that Bucky (his variant) is dealing with heavy trauma from losing his arm and this journal is part of his recovery work. He documents various times when Steve has noticed Bucky acting withdrawn or distant. Apparently, Steve can always tell — his variant claims. That must be the reason Steve appeared concerned today. However, the soldier did not try to act this way.

The journal goes on to discuss Steve and their relationship quite frequently. It tells him, over various pages, how Steve is a sucker for Bucky's pouting. The soldier had heard the word before but he's not entirely familiar with it. He'll have to use the internet later and look it up.

The journal also describes how much Bucky enjoys Steve's many skills in the bedroom — so does the soldier, he thinks to himself. He reads on to learn that Steve 'falls apart' when getting blown. The soldier pauses trying to decipher what is being blown up, he'll have to look up if there are any slang definitions of the phrase 'getting blown' that don't involve grenades.

Either way, these are two obvious weaknesses that the soldier needs to file away for later. Once he figures out what it all means.

After a couple of hours, the soldier has read through every page of the journal. It's a huge advance of knowledge. He's now aware of some specific dates and events that his variant noted from his and Steve's relationship. That will be extremely helpful. Also, small things to note such as Bucky enjoys reading while Steve prefers drawing in their spare time.

The soldier has concluded that Steve and his variant have been in a committed relationship for six years now and label themselves as 'boyfriends'. He also learned they have a very active sex life, which the soldier could've guessed from last night, but the confirmation makes a small excitement return to his belly. He wants more of last night.

By mid-afternoon, Steve returns to tell the soldier lunch is ready. The soldier can tell that Steve is still wary of his behavior. This is not good. The soldier's not sure how Steve can sense he's acting off. But with his new arsenal of knowledge, he decides to use something from the journal that he knows is common for them.

"Let's have sex," the soldier states as soon as they're done eating.

Steve pauses and the soldier worries he has messed up the phrasing but then slowly, Steve's mouth stretches into a smile.

"Getting right to the point, are we?"

The soldier nods. "I want more."

Steve chuckles, which sounds positive, so the soldier presents a smile. This is working. And best of all, he may get more sex.

In the bedroom, they're starting very leisurely today. Steve's brushing his hands through the soldier's hair all the while telling him how good he is. The soldier wonders if Steve talks like this all the time or only when he's worried about the variant. Does he always comb his partner's hair back in soft caresses too? It's causing the soldier's head to tingle which is only adding to all the sensation his body is vibrating off of. Oh, because the soldier forgot to mention he's naked and on his stomach again. And Steve's opening him up with his fingers again but he's doing it much more slowly.

Steve turns the soldier onto his back, reinserts his fingers, and then grabs a hold of his cock with his other hand. He begins pumping his cock in time with his fingers and that's when the soldier knows he won't be able to hold off much longer. Somehow, Steve knows too because his movements grow faster and he leans over to say, "Let go, baby. Just let it all go."

The soldier complies with the command and feels his cock pulse against Steve's palm. He covers his chest and stomach in thick white lines. When he opens his eyes, he's embarrassed to admit that he's aroused by the sight. His own release on his skin, Steve's hand still wrapped around his messy, dripping cock.

Steve lets him go and leans over to kiss him. Then he sits back and says, "How about daddy gets a little attention too."

Steve points to his dick when he says it and the soldier's blood rushes at the instruction. He mentally revisits last night, every step, every lick Steve performed on him. He will repeat it.

He crawls over to Steve and lies on his stomach in front of his cock. He takes him in his hand and then places the head on his tongue. Steve growls when he does this. It makes the soldier's skin prickle with a fuzzy sensation that covers him all over.

He keeps going, precisely copying every move he remembers from last night. It seems to draw familiar sounds of pleasure so the soldier believes he's doing something right. Steve grips the back of his neck and surprisingly, the soldier doesn't falter. Steve's thumb starts rubbing circles under his hairline and then he speaks in a low, gravelly voice.

"So good to me, Buck. Ugh god, you're so good. Yeah, doll, just like that. Fuck."

The soldier's head spins from it. The words, the touch, the large cock in his mouth. It isn't bad either. Maybe because he's allowed to determine it all himself. The pace, the suction, the grip. He likes the freedom of the task.

It's not long before he feels the tell-tale sign of Steve's impending climax. He's not fully prepared for the hot substance that shoots into the back of his throat. He swallows because he remembers learning that spitting is considered disrespectful. The video was regarding manners at the dinner table but he hopes it applies here too.

When the rush of release stops and the soldier has swallowed it all, he's not sure if he should remove his mouth. So he lets Steve sit in there for a bit. Until he feels Steve's fingers carding through his hair again.

"Come on, doll. Lemme fuck you now."

The soldier withdraws Steve's cock from his mouth and lets Steve rearrange him on the bed. He's on his back this time and after Steve pushes inside him, he kisses him tenderly all the while he begins fucking him.

And it's all so... incredible, the soldier decides. This is the best thing he's ever been allowed to experience and for the first time, he dreads the idea of returning to his own timeline. Where he has to wear heavy, leather gear and carry seven to fifteen weapons on him at all times. Where he's only needed for missions and not allowed to bathe or feed himself. He's never given any pleasure at all, nothing even close to this.

He can't, for the life of him, imagine there is a timeline where his variant gets this all the time. Whenever he wants. But it must be true because he can't imagine Steve ever denying his boyfriend.

Steve Rogers is good — he's so, so good and giving. God, his cock is sized so nicely. It's a gift. That's what it is, a damn gift, the soldier thinks. He doesn't want to eliminate Steve Rogers in this timeline or any timeline. He just wants this. Forever. He wants this for the rest of his life.

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 27: Outdoor Event ~ Cullen Rutherford/F!Inquisitor [1,526 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

Evelyn’s sense of satisfaction over just how nicely they’d managed to clean up Skyhold was dampened around the exact moment Josephine deemed it good enough to throw its first ever soiree. But her arguments that the roof could, and absolutely would, cave in any minute now fell on deaf ears – especially when Josephine informed her that what she had planned would take place in the gardens, anyway. Cullen’s dry addition that he wasn’t sure the sky was too structurally sound either, however, did draw a laugh out of her – which, in turn, drew a smirk from him when Josephine’s back was turned.

Ever since her near-death experience back at Haven, he’d been more…warm with her. Not that he’d been cold beforehand, just more tentative. That one night had shown them that there was little time for that, and the result was that they were driving everybody in the castle mad with whatever was blossoming between them. For they could not rush this, either.

In the end, Josephine proved a formidable opponent, and Evelyn found herself trapped in the gardens one brilliant summer day, decked out in a gown of white lace with an entire greenhouse’s worth of roses atop her head. She had to admit the finished effect was rather fine. And that opinion was reinforced when Cullen entered the gardens, caught sight of her, and stopped short in the doorway, staring as though stunned into stillness. He only moved when one of the guests stuck in the hallway behind him complained – and even then, he only looked away long enough to side-step his way into the garden without bumping into anybody before those golden-brown eyes of his were once again fixed on her.

She smiled, although she couldn’t do so too smugly, for he was not the only one staring. While Evelyn had been privy to the argument between he and Josephine as to whether he could wear his armour to this thing – and Josephine’s adamant insistence that if he did, it would have all of the guests worried that he suspected another attack from Corypheus was eminent – she never could have guessed that he’d come like this. Like…like one of the heroes from the novels Cassandra thought none knew she read.

Garbed in a dazzling crimson coat, a slightly darker gold-embroidered waistcoat beneath which covered all but the collar of the white linen shirt beneath, and dark brown breeches and boots, had she not known him, Evelyn wouldn’t have questioned it if she’d been told he was a neighbouring prince or king or some such thing. Although given her experience with nobles and royals, she was rather glad he was not. Even if the King of Ferelden had eventually written to apologise for his foul mood at Redcliffe.

“See something you like, Inquisitor?”

Sometime during their staring contest, Varric had materialised at her side and was now offering her a very self-satisfied smirk. She started, and then recovered quickly, looking away and snorting.

“Shut up.”

“Now you sound like the Seeker. I have to say, I do feel like your beau stole my look.”

“Not enough chest on display for that, I think.”

“Much to your devastation, I’m sure,” Varric teased.

“Did you need something, Varric, or did you just come to poke your nose into my personal life?”

“The latter,” he admitted happily. “I was going to ask if either you or Curly had made a move yet.”

“Excuse me?”

They hadn’t – neither of them. In Evelyn’s case, it was because she was the Inquisitor, and that technically made her Cullen’s boss. It would be inappropriate if she…well. And he hadn’t because…well, she didn’t know why. But she was sure he had a very good reason.

“I’m curious.”

“Varric, if you’re writing a book about us, I swear-”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Listen…there may or may not be gold on the matter.”

“On whether we’ll-”

“On when. There’s no if about it.”

“You’re betting on us?”

“Only within your inner circle – you have my word that beyond it, we’re all very professional and we dutifully pretend we have no idea what all of the talk is about.”

Evelyn groaned. “Who? You, obviously. Sera, I’m guessing. Probably Dorian, too, because he’s been very curious lately. Are there any others?”

“Just one.”

“Bull?”

“Nah, he won’t have anything to do with it. Unprofessional, unfair advantage, the whole deal. Although he did hint that he’d be open to advising bets if we sweetened the deal.”

“Blackwall?” she guessed.

“Please, he’d fall on his sword before he speculated on the infallible Inquisitor’s love life,” he shook his head, as if disappointed in her thinking.

“Who, then?”

“I think answering would put my life on the line.”

Only two people in Skyhold could have him saying such a thing, and Cassandra would never involve herself in something like this.

“Not Leliana?” she stared in disbelief.

The dwarf grinned.

“She had none of Bull’s qualms about unfair advantages. We had to add the condition that she wouldn’t use anything her spies saw or heard, but she still sees everything the rest of us don’t when that War Room door closes behind you.”

“Yes, because that’s the perfect setting for us to start stripping off,” she responded drily. “Leliana and Josephine could spectate. Offer constructive criticism – that sort of thing.”

“Now you really are giving me ideas for a book.”

“Varric.”

“I’m only teasing, Inquisitor. It’s good, you know. Seeing you get caught up in something not all about death, demons, and the end of the world for once.”

His tone took on such a tone of sincerity at the end that she found herself stunned into speechlessness – until finally, she breathed a quiet laugh and nodded.

“It is nice,” she admitted, albeit very quietly.

Even out here, in a garden full of guests vying to take the measure of her, along with hoping for a chance encounter that may lead them able to boast to their connections that they made Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan laugh with a clever joke, when she was off to one side trading glances with Cullen, she simply felt like a woman getting stupidly giddy because the man she liked smiled at her.

But, of course, the presence of the guests couldn’t be ignored for long. Varric had scarcely left her side for ten seconds before she was drawn into conversations that either treated her as an authority on the Maker’s will (which she found horrifying), saw her recounting her recent brush with death (again, she wasn’t a fan of that), or reciting what she’d learned of Skyhold’s origins and speculating on details of its architecture (which was…interesting, actually).

The sun had climbed high into the sky before she got a moment’s respite, bathing the gardens in golden light and warmth that should not have been possible this high in the mountains. It only added to the sense that there was something not entirely natural about this place. Whatever it was, though, it felt benevolent. Everything did, after the ruin of Haven.

She sought the shade under the gazebo, half-lamenting that she’d been too busy playing host to engage in more staring contests with Cullen – who was now woefully nowhere to be seen, perhaps having retreated to his tower after showing his face – when a hand touched her upper arm. Proper Inquisitor-appropriate smile already rising to her face, she turned and then felt the smile brightening and becoming sincere quite of its own volition. The man she’d just been thinking of stood beside her, holding a silver goblet of wine in offerance.

“You look like you could use it.”

“Not a fan of the ensemble Josephine and Leliana put together for me, then?” she teased lightly, accepting the wine and nodding her thanks.

“No! I mean yes, I…Maker’s breath- I didn’t mean…not that…” he trailed off, sighed, and then regarded her openly. “You look breathtaking, Evelyn.”

Her eyes widened before she could stop them, and he winced a little, folding his hands before her.

“I, er, apologise if that was too intense.”

“It wasn’t, Cullen,” she said quickly, “not at all. I was…thinking the same thing.”

Of course, then it was her turn to ramble nervously.

“About you, I mean – not myself. I’ll need a few more titles under my belt before I reach that point.”

He chuckled, his shoulders loosening as the nerves slipped away. “Well, should you reach that point I could hardly fault you for seeing things as they are.”

Evelyn smiled, ducking her head if only so that the rest of the garden wouldn’t see how she blushed.

“I actually came to see if you wouldn’t be too worn out to have dinner with me – later, after this. In my tower. I thought it might be a nice way to decompress.”

When she lifted her head, her cheeks still blazed, but she didn’t care.

“I’d love that. Maybe then I can ask you whether you’d rather Varric, Leliana, Sera, or Dorian won a hefty bag of gold.”

Although when she then realised she’d have to explain that remark, she did rather regret bringing it up in the first place.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[lynsneakersart]

Since y'all are sleeping on my Tetovage masterpost, I'm going to post them all individually with extra tidbits of info and there's nothing you can do about it!!

Last, but not least, Eighteenth is Fairy!

More info under the cut.

Ah, Fairy! Another screaming about 'what pokemon do i choose' and constantly changing it. When I realized Fairy was going to be last, I decided to give her some Legendaries/Mythicals. Magearna had already been a contender from the jump, going back and forth between Fairy and Steel as a choice. Zacian I'd brought up once or twice, but I initially showed reluctance because, if I brought it in, I wanted to bring in Zamazenta, too.

I got over that eventually. Zacian was literally a last minute choice, in the end. I do not regret it. Once again, thank you MMD Pokemon riggers for my life I would not have been able to figure out the dog's damn shapes without you.

For the character designs, I knew what I wanted to start. I wanted a devil & angel motif. The devil/imp theme I had figured out immediately. I could envision it perfectly. The angel one... not so much.

I thought I had it figured out when I thought of Princess Peach and her in Sunshine. I could envision it clearly. Almost like a magical girl, but not quite. Big flowy ribbons in the back, tiny little angel wings, pastel colours, and this sparkly, translucent skirt & sleeves underneath the main dress

I hated it. It didn't turn out how I wanted at all. I didn't do the concepts in order, so I said I'd come back to it later and see if I changed my mind.

Later came, and I had not changed my mind. I still hated it. To google I went, looking up cute fashion ideas when I saw an outfit that hit me like a truck and gave me the immediate inspiration for the final design, which turned out perfectly. I still got to keep the Sunshine Peach inspiration under the jacket.

I would post the inspiration photo here but I can't find it anymore. It was mostly the jacket that inspired me lol. It had big ol pockets that made me think "you could fit a plushie in there--WAIT A MINUTE"

Now, Fairy was optionally going to be the final image. There was one I wanted to draw afterwards, but it was always a maybe, and that was to make something for the Stellar Type, introduced in Scarlet/Violet!

I got the concept art down, but by the time I'd finished lining and colouring all of the other pictures, I was extremely drained, burned out, sick, and absolutely dying of pain. Damn you chronic pain for making my hobby hurt.

Instead of making a new post, here's the concepts, and the sketch for the final illustration for the Stellar type!

[psychangels]

AU Masterpost

This is a post detailing all of my HFR AUs, for ease of access!

Escapism

SPECTRA!Chai AU; canon diverges at the very beginning of the Kale fight. Instead of fighting 808, he has Chai deal with her. Everything goes downhill from there.

Now working for Vandelay Technologies as the ambassador for Project Armstrong, Chai lives a tightly scheduled life. Not only does he do marketing-related things, he's essentially a jack of all trades, doing numerous different tasks all over the island. And thanks to SPECTRA, he never forgets a single one—though that's unbeknownst to him.

Kale hired new department heads; Nori and xer assistant GNGR (production), Sunny Kist (R&D), Star (security), Vesper (marketing), and Allium Piper (finances).

The gang is in for a rough ride in their mission to get Chai back, and put a stop to Kale and SPECTRA once and for all.

This AU is a good bit darker than standard HFR. It has death, gore, abusive relationships, and brainwashing.

You can read the fic series for this AU here! There's also two playlists for it; one features all of the songs that appear in the fics, and the other is just a vibes playlist.

The CNMN Effect

An off-shoot of Escapism; diverges during chapter 4 of The End of the Rockstar. CNMN does his CNManiac special attack from the game, knocking Chai and Sunny out. This enables Macaron and him to take Chai and book it back to the hideout.

Started as more of a joke concept from a comment made by @/deadly-glamourtail, and then became a Proper AU.

Currently, there isn't a fic for this, but I do plan on writing one eventually. Probably won't happen for quite a while, though.

Lightning in a Bottle

Fantasy AU; retains the sci-fi elements from regular HFR, just adding on fantasy world-building and elements. The story is a fair bit different from HFR, but at it's core it's essentially the same and follows a similar structure. Features gore, death, and darker elements, but still retains the whimsy.

Vandelay Technologies is Vandelay City, and Roxanne is the founder. She used to run the city, before her son took over one day seemingly out of the blue. He replaced the entire city council shortly after.

Peppermint, upon finding out about this, attempts to get into the city to figure out what's going on, only to be thwarted by its new gatekeeper, GK-1MIL. Unable to get in and investigate, she sets off to figure out what to do.

After exhausting all other options she can think of, she decides to summon a demon to help her out. Said demon is Chai. He agrees to help her—not that he really has much choice—and the two set off to figure out what happened to Roxanne.

You can read the fic for this AU here!

Red Eternity

Time loop AU; Korsica is stuck in a loop that begins with her waking up in the dark L.I.F.T tunnels, and ends with Kale winning when the gang eventually reaches him. How he wins is different each time, and some other parts of the loop change as well. In order to break free from the loop, Korsica has to figure out how to make the canon ending of HFR happen.

This AU features gore and death. It still has the silliness of HFR, but it is a fair bit darker.

Currently, there isn't a finished fic for this AU that you can read, but I have started working on the first chapter. It probably won't be done for quite a while, but keep an eye out!

[munchkin1156]

✨My Megapost✨

There’s my brother to blame for that, feel free to ask for context, keeping it until I change it back :D

(AFTER ALL THESE YEARS... IT'S FINALLY HERE!!)

. . .

HIIIIII!!!!!!! WELCOME TO MY BLOG AND MY MASTERPOST!! HAVE A COOKIE!!! 🍪

Now that that's out of the way...

Who am I?

❤️My name is Munchkin! I'm your casual g/t enthusiast, and I do writing, art and also some irl stuff making! If you see someone going by the name ✨anon✨ on your blog, offering you cookies, then that's me. I enjoy content, and sometimes do my own! Right now, I'm mainly obsessed with Mcyt g/t (which is either dsmp, or when I come back from hiatus, hermitcraft as well) or oc stuff :D Nice to meet you, viewer/reader!! :D ❤️

What is g/t?

G/t stands for giant/tiny, and it's a community for people who enjoy being (you guessed it) giant or tiny! Usually, it's a form of comfort, feeling the need to protect or be protected, but it can also be used as a kink. That is NSFW G/T. This blog is strictly SFW G/T. I will not hesitate to block you if you do that, for it makes me uncomfortable and I am not okay with it. (Sorry if this description is bad, there are better ones-)

Do I do g/t vore?

Nope! To be clear, I am perfectly fine with the concept and anyone who posts it, (occasionally reading it as long as it's safe) though I am aware some of my followers are not, so I will not be posting/talking about vore on this blog.

Do i take requests, and if so, what kind? (REQUESTS ARE ✨OPEN✨)

Yes. I take writing and art requests, including fake fic titles, prompts, au ideas, headcanons, etc. Do not pressure me to finish your request though, it will not help at all and will make me more stressed. If I am uncomfortable with your request, it will be deleted.

Now, my posts so far... (Stories/art and other posts under cut-, most of this is old writing, again once I'm back I will probably add some more stuff that is new and better! Enjoy!)

. . .

YOU LOOKED UNDER THE CUT!! :0 ENJOY MY CONTENT!!! (if you want to) HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Note: Most of this work rn i find old and not very good. There will be better stuff eventually...)

My main au!

✨Upon Clouds we Dream...✨

Chapter One and Chapter Two is out, but Chapter Three is non-existent. (yet)

Then there's the other au that I have stuff for, but I'm not sure what it is or where i was going with it and i'm pretty sure it's dead but oh well-

Make new friend's but keep the old

Chapter... One? Chapter... Two? Maybe?

✨MER AU THAT I HAVE SAID NOTHING ABOUT YET✨

Art for it

Becky ask!!! (small infodump)

✨I have fallen (but have faith, for I shall rise once more)✨ (mcyt g/t au)

Pt.1

Brick ask :D

✨Dystopian au✨ (mcyt g/t au)

infodump

Becky ask (technically infodump)

✨Oneshots!✨

He started it!

Horror and HELP

✨Other- (stuff like wips, fake fic titles, art, oc's that i have drawings of, hc's, irl stuff :])✨

Wip game thingy

Munchkin character sheet

It's- a stick figure. In a hamd.

FAKE FIC TITLES

Taming the beast

G/t headcanons (Zombie apocalypse style)

Borrower house no.1 (not very good)

Borrower house no.2 (better)

shitpost (and my first post)

shitpost (not my first post)

shitpost (honestly how many do i have?)

shitpost (another one??)

shitpost (:D)

stuff that freaks me out in g/t #1

stuff that freaks me out in g/t #2

spooder

geeckooo

baaaaaaaat

✨My tumblr fam✨

My Tumblr mom, the wonderful @.I-am-beckyu, my Tumblr aunt's, @.brick-a-doodle-do and @.a-xyz-s.

@.orchid-harmony, @.da3dm, @.krazycat49, @.justarandomsloth and 🕶️ anon are my siblings :D

Aaaaaand that's about it! Will update when I should!

❤️ You made it to the end! ❤️ Great job, dear viewer/reader, have some more cookies! 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

-Your neighborhood Munchkin

…spams bread

[amberskywrites]

Eternal

Chapter 22 - Confrontations

Chapter 1 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 23 || Masterpost | AO3 Link | FF.net Link

Fandom / Genre: Nanatsu no Taizai (Seven Deadly Sins) / Canon-Divergent and Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Meliodas/Elizabeth, Zeldris/Gelda, Meliodas & Zeldris & Elizabeth & Gelda

Overall Story Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Canon-typical violence, Canonical character death, Canon temporary character death, Cursed characters, Lmk if I need to add anything else!

Chapter Warnings: None, lmk if there’s anything I need to add!

Story Summary:

Eternal…

life.

reincarnation.

silence.

and chains.

For 3,000 long and painful years, these four have been doing all they can to lift their curses. They have failed, again and again and again. With only a sliver of hope left, they try once more.

-

Or, what if Zeldris accepted Meliodas’ offer to go with him 3,000 years ago?

Ban ignored King following them, fixed solely on the collection of lights flying further and further away from the others. Eventually, the lights vanished as they entered a clearing.

No, vanished wasn’t quite right.

He couldn’t see them, see her, but he could feel her. Ban took a deep breath, the only sound with King frozen. At least- he assumed King was frozen in place. And then he started speaking, floating up next to Ban. He was glaring.

“What are you doing here, Ban?”

Ban leaned back, away from the fairy, and forced a bored expression across his face. He hummed low and waited a moment before answering, watching King’s expression sour further. Then he let a smirk form, no matter if he actually felt smug or not.

There was one thing Ban would always be good at, after all. And it was pissing off King.

“I think you know what I’m doing here.”

King scowls further. “How dare you even come here, after all you did? How dare you smile to my face, if you know well what you’ve done?”

“How dare I?” Ban’s expression grew disbelieving. King didn’t respond for a moment, cooling his expression and lifting off Chastiefol. Before Ban could finish blinking, the sacred treasure was behind him and suddenly his limbs were gripped and pulled apart. “What the-?!”

“After the Sins split up, I decided to return home. I hadn’t been home in centuries. I was horrified to come across the Fairy Forest burnt to the ground. The Fountain of Youth gone, the forest abandoned and trees charred as far as the eye can see. No sign of the Saint who was guarding the fountain and the forest…

“It took me a while to realize what had happened.” King tilted his head at Ban. “I never questioned why a human seemed so indestructible, unkillable. We have all committed grave sins, but I never… I didn’t even think that anyone had committed one so heinous. I didn’t think you had killed the Saint of the forest and drank from the Fountain of Youth.”

Ban barely held back a scoff. “So what, is this a ploy to avenge her? You just said it yourself- I’m unkillable!”

A small, self-satisfied smile graced King’s face. “Maybe not normally, no,” he said, holding out his hand. “Spirit spear Chastiefol, third configuration: Fossilization.” Ban’s eyes widened as behind him a whirring sound pierced the air, followed quickly by the squish of flesh and guts being torn out.  “You never did pay attention to anything anyone else talked about. If it wasn’t something to fulfill your greedy desires, it went in one ear and right out the other.”

Ban stared at his chest where the spear impaled him - and King sure did have a thing for impaling him, huh? - and watched as a gray started to crawl over his body outward from the spear. It felt… odd. Not painful. A tingling sensation, as if his body was slowly falling asleep.

“Are you watching, Elaine?” King murmured, only audible to Ban because it was otherwise so silent.

Ban took a deep breath a moment before he could no longer properly feel if he was actually inhaling air still, looked back up at King as the petrification spread to his neck, and smiled as gently as he would ever smile in King’s presence.

“Do you have any last words, a deathbed confession perhaps? I won’t forgive you either way, but still.”

Silence, as the last of the petrification enveloped Ban. “Then suffer alone for all eternity here in the Necropolis without dying it ever finding peace,” King said quietly after Ban refused to say anything.

 King was left staring at that infuriating smile. “Goodbye, Ban,” he said softly, smile disappearing. Chastiefol withdrew from Ban completely. King took one last look at Ban, committing his stone face to memory. 

--

“Maybe we should turn back and look for Ban and King?” Hawk asked. “We haven’t seen anyone!”

“We’ll meet up with them soon enough, have patience,” Zeldris scolded lightly. 

“We have been walking for a while, are you sure they’ll be alright?” Elizabeth asked. “You said Sir Ban might see someone he cared about a lot here.”

“Zel,” Meliodas sighed, tone toeing the line between exasperated and disappointed.

“She was going to talk to him earlier, I don’t know what you expected me to do, telling her not to talk to him out of seemingly nowhere,” Zeldris huffed before looking up at Elizabeth. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, Ban included. I’m not saying it won’t hurt, that he might not spiral later whether he sees them or not. But he’ll be alright in the end, I promise.”

“Still, at this rate, I doubt there’s any of the other Sins here, I haven’t sensed any of them or any powers like them…” Diane chimed in, looking around over the crystal walls. She slowed to a stop and the others followed suit, Hawk sighing in relief as they finally stopped moving for a moment.

“Mmmm… that is true. We don’t have a lot longer here, so I guess it wouldn’t hurt to-” Meliodas cut himself off abruptly.

Everyone stopped at the odd sight before them. A young woman, bent forward slightly with her eyes closed, long hair drawn over some of her face. A hand was resting across her chest - no, not across, Elizabeth realized with dread forming a pit in her own heart, the hand was in the woman’s chest.

The power radiating from the woman was strong enough for Elizabeth to feel it. It felt like she was being suffocated slowly, her breath hitching as the others tensed around her. Elizabeth chanced looking away from the woman for a brief moment, taking in even Meliodas’ stiff shoulders and Zeldris’ hand twitching over his sword. Gelda stood straighter, her eyes narrowed at the woman, only raising Elizabeth’s unease further. Diane had taken a step back upon seeing the woman, confusion and apprehension flitting across her face and switching frequently with annoyance. Hawk also took a step back, placing himself between Elizabeth and the woman but keeping the brothers between him and herself.

The power felt… less than Gilthunder’s, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Elizabeth couldn’t feel the Sins’ powers, and they were the most dangerous beings in the world as far as she was aware. 

The woman finally moved, moving her hand from her chest to rest on her own sword but not drawing it. Her eyes seemed to remain closed, but Elizabeth could still feel her calculating gaze.

“How do you do, Dragon Sin Meliodas? Serpent Sin Diane?”

“And you are?” Zeldris asked, eyes glued to the woman’s sword and his hand tightening over the hilt of his own.

“I am Holy Knight Guila.”

“How did you get here?” Hawk asked, taking another half-step back.

“By dying,” Guila answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hawk’s breath hitched and he looked at Meliodas. “Did she just say she came here by dying?” 

Meliodas hummed in affirmation. “She sure did.”

Before anyone could say anything else, Guila unsheathed her sword - rapier, Elizabeth realized - and propelled herself forward quicker than they were prepared for, going between Meliodas and Zeldris and they had moved before remembering who was behind them, but Guila was already past them.

Elizabeth had only a moment to dodge Guila’s attack, a mangled shout of surprise bursting from her lips before she was toppling to the side and just barely managing to duck under Guila’s body.

Guila landed far more gracefully, spinning around and about to attack again. She was forced back as Gelda appeared in front of her, a ball of fire in her palm aimed to hit Guila at short range, and forced back even further as Diane knelt and brought some of the earth up from under Guila. 

Elizabeth stumbled back onto her own feet, Meliodas already in front of her and backing up, putting even more space between her and Guila. His jaw was set tight and Elizabeth couldn’t see his expression, but she could imagine it wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Hawk! Take Elizabeth and run!”

Hawk was at their sides instantly, and Elizabeth only hesitated for half a second before clambering onto Hawk’s back. As soon as she was secure Hawk booked it, squealing the entire way about how strong Guila was and how he couldn’t believe she just attacked Elizabeth. Elizabeth spared a glance back just before they turned a corner, catching sight of Meliodas and Guila locked together in a small crater, and then they were gone.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and hoped with all her might that the Sins would be fine.

[pulim-v]

1, 6, 7

It littererly only JUST clicked how your oc masterpost actually organizes the OC's (I think it was formatting weird cuz mobile or smthn but I had NO IDEA which OC's were from the same thing or which were entirely seperate) so I have reading to do now once my poem's finished. For now though, Fern and Spark for those three?

Sometimes the formatting in this dang hellsite just breaks for some reason??? One of my favorite drawings had the layout completely destroyed on PC which made the two pictures separate in a really weird way, I'm glad in this case it eventually worked xP

Anyways onto the questions lol

1. How did they meet?

I'm not entirely sure at this point, but my main idea is that the two meet during orientation week in the KIT, some older students organized some games for the first years and Fern and Spark ended up meeting each other in one of those (and subsequently became friends due to having similar interests)

6. Do they have any shared interests/hobbies? Do they ever do these hobbies together?

They're both big fans of playing video games, so they often play together; eventually, Spark starts playtesting some of Fern's projects, and gives some ideas to improve them

7 . How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

They usually have lunch together every day, but only a few of their classes actually line up so that's the main time they have together. Other than that, they don't really spend that much time together in the earlier parts of the story (later on the whole trio goes out to eat together every few weeks, though)