#maybe one of these days ill just go to a cafe and write as much as i can | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemurlegs · 4 months

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Bewitched

Hello everybody I'm finally back with a new chapter, I'm sorry it took so long, I had difficulty writing it, and i was a bit busy too. Anyways this chapter is longer. It explores a lot of things Ginger has done in her past, and we're gonna learn about the powers we possess.

Wordcount: 8.6k

Warning: murder, ritualistic sacrifice, cannibalism

Previous chapter

Chapter 5.

Dreams and powers

Alastors pov

After a whole day of dealing with his wayward contracts, while his body didn't show it, he felt exhausted. He was ready to head back to the hotel and relax near his bayou.

As soon as he manifested in the living room, he caught sight of everyone sitting in a circle on the floor. Charlie immediately jumped up and greeted him, asking if he wanted to join their group activities.

Alastor wanted to refuse; he was tired and rarely felt the need to join in the silly exercises Charlie hosted. But before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off, explaining that they were sharing stories about their pasts and it was currently Ginger's turn. More information? How convenient.

He walked towards the group and settled on the couch next to them. No way in hell would the Radio Demon sit on the floor like some common sinner, he had a reputation to uphold. As he crossed his legs and got comfortable, after that he told Ginger to continue.

She started explaining that she had no idea why she ended up in Hell.

Alastor was confused, tilting his head at her comment. At the cafe that morning, she had mentioned using her womanly charm to manipulate men and hinted that she sometimes killed those she deemed worthy. To him, that seemed like a pretty obvious reason to be sent down here.

Charlie asked her to clarify.

"I mean that I don't think I'm innocent or something; I just don't know which of my sins got me here.” she shrugged. Answering nonchalantly.

At that, Angel Dust suggested she list her sins to figure out which one got her sent to Hell. Alastor was ecstatic; maybe her sins would explain her strange magical knowledge, and he might even learn what happened to her the day before, when she got attacked.

But as soon as he got his hopes up, Ginger quickly dismissed the idea. However, her response only made him more curious. A list of sins so long it would take hours to go over? Hoho, don't threaten him with a good time.

That's when Alastor realized something. If she truly had committed so much evil, how did she manage it in such a short time? Not that he would ask a woman her age, of course—that would be ill-mannered—but she didn't look more than 27, but of course looks can be deceiving.

As he snapped out of his thoughts, he realized they had moved on to another topic. Charlie suggested that everyone name three things they were good at or enjoyed doing.

Angel's response made him grimace with disgust. The perverted spider always has a way of dampening his mood. He was listening to the group name their likes and talents, seemingly bored by how uninteresting they were. That's when he saw Ginger get excited about Husker's response.

“Magic, you say? What kind of magic?” her eyes were shimmering hopefully with a hint of excitement as she leaned towards the barcat.

Her happiness was short-lived when Husk clarified he was talking about card tricks.

Hmm, so she is indeed interested in magic. Maybe she's a practitioner. Or she could just be curious because of her attackers, since they clearly used magic on her. But how could she get herself in a situation like that on her first day? I mean, he knew this was hell but still. Maybe she knew her perpetrators? He shook off that though for now. Instead he began wondering about what kind of demon powers she might have and thought of ways to make her use them. That is, if she even knows she has them. Hmm, he hadn't considered that.

But Alastor didn’t have time to dwell on the topic any longer since it was now Ginger’s turn to share.

“Okay. Well, let’s see. I really like history, particularly the 1920s. I enjoy reading and I like singing.

Particularly the 1920s? My, my, isn’t that interesting—a sinner as young as her interested in history, especially a time when he was alive? That's a rare sight.

After she finished, it was his turn. As he explained his love for jazz and cooking, as well as torturing souls, everyone fell silent at that of course, he sure loved getting a reaction from the crowd. Charlie quickly tried to salvage the situation and decided to call it a night.

Before they could leave, Ginger reminded everyone that Alastor hadn't answered the first question. Everyone was shocked by her boldness, even Alastor. He couldn't decide if it was boldness or foolishness.

To ask such a thing from him, the feared overlord, the master tormentor, the Radio Demon—it took guts, he had to admit that. He decided to humor her forwardness.

"My, my, quite bold, are we?" he said, his tone laced with amusement. "Well, if you must know, I was a serial killer in the 1920s, cleaning the streets of New Orleans. I'm quite certain that's why I'm here." He said proudly.

As Alastor observed Ginger's serene smile and listened to her nonchalant acceptance of violence against the cruel and wicked, he felt an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It was a peculiar mix of intrigue, admiration, and something else—something he couldn't quite place.

The idea that someone shared his perspective on the nature of sin and punishment was undeniably intriguing to Alastor. Here stood someone who not only understood his worldview but embraced it. How exciting.

After this pleasant surprise, everyone left to retire for the night. Ginger walked to the kitchen for a quick dinner. This was the perfect opportunity to set his plan to discover her powers in motion. He used his shadow magic to warp behind her, ready to spook her, when she greeted him without even looking.

How in the ever-loving hell did she know he was there?—he thought. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer to her, looking down at the fox demon who is so full of secrets.

When he asked, she gave an unsatisfactory response: a lucky guess. He almost rolled his eyes at that. Right, like he would believe that. He'd find out soon enough.

Alastor then began his plan. First step: getting her out of the hotel. That should be easy enough. He owned her, after all; she needed to listen to him.

“I need you to pick up some fresh cuts of meat from the butcher for me tomorrow. I'll write down the address for you.”

He conjured a notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the location, when she gave him a skeptical response and questioned his intentions. This made him a little annoyed. Who was she to question him? She had no right. He owned her.

He reminded her that her curiosity would get her in trouble if she kept asking more questions. She responded with sass. Oh, that’s it. He had been nice, but she needed to be taught a lesson. After all, he was the one in charge here—she needed to learn some respect.

Alastor threatened her, turning into his more demonic form, getting up in her face and telling her it was best if she did what she was told.

And to that, she didn't even flinch, as if she wasn't standing in front of a terrifying, cruel overlord. Giving a nonchalant response, she agreed, but it left him confused as to why she didn't react. Most demons would be cowering away in fear by now.

He wrote down the location and left her. He needed to think about the next steps of his plan. Once in his room, he lit the fireplace and sank down in his chair.

Step one was completed; now it was time for phase two. Once she went to pick up the meat as he asked, he planned to send one of his rowdy souls after her. He'd send those souls who had tested his patience, a lesson long overdue, he thought. And if she tore them apart? Well, he wouldn't mind. In fact, he hoped she did.

"Oh, how I wonder what kind of powers she has," he thought out loud.

As Alastor's thoughts drifted towards Ginger's potential powers, he couldn't help but imagine the myriad ways they could be utilized to his advantage. Each possibility sparked a new wave of excitement, fueling his curiosity and ambition.

He envisioned Ginger wielding elemental magic, conjuring flames to engulf their enemies or summoning storms to wreak havoc upon their foes. With such power at his disposal, he could easily dominate the battlefield, using the forces of nature to bend his enemies to his will.

Or perhaps Ginger possessed the ability to manipulate minds, weaving illusions to deceive their adversaries or bending their thoughts to her whim. With such a power, she could infiltrate the minds of anybody.

Alastor's mind raced with possibilities, each scenario more tantalizing than the last. As he contemplated the many ways Ginger's powers could benefit him, Alastor's ambition burned brighter than ever before. With her by his side, he could ascend to even greater heights of power and influence, his name echoing throughout the halls of Hell as a force to be reckoned with. But first, he needed to uncover the truth about Ginger's abilities, and he was determined to do whatever it took to unlock her secrets.

After about some time he decided to check up on her room.

Maybe he could reveal something about her. After all, a person's room often tells a lot about them. He rose from his seat, left his room, and began approaching Ginger's room.

As Alastor strode through the dimly lit corridors of the hotel, his shadow danced eagerly along the walls, its form undulating and twisting with an otherworldly grace. It moved in tandem with Alastor's every step, a silent companion that mirrored his movements with uncanny precision.

As they approached Ginger's room, the shadow seemed to pulse with anticipation, its movements quickening with an eager anticipation. It hovered near the door, casting a dark silhouette against the wood as if eager to delve into the mysteries that lay beyond.

Alastor's voice echoed softly in the corridor, his words punctuated by a faint chuckle that reverberated through the air. As he spoke, his shadow danced eagerly beside him, its movements fluid and graceful.

"She's very interesting, isn't she?" Alastor mused aloud, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "So full of secrets, and the longer I observe, the more questions appear."

His shadow seemed to sway in agreement, its form pulsating with a silent energy as if echoing Alastor's sentiments.

Together, they stood outside Ginger's room, the anticipation palpable in the air as Alastor prepared to delve into the mysteries that laid beyond.

Holding his ear up to the door, he listened for any signs that might indicate she was still awake. Upon hearing light snoring, his smile widened. He began fading away into the shadows. Now in his dark incorporeal state, he reached under the doorway, trying to slide into the room. But as soon as he began slipping in, some sort of strong force ejected him. It was as if the very fabric of the magic repelled his intrusion, rejecting his shadowy essence with a forceful expulsion.

Thrown back against the opposite wall, Alastor's incorporeal form recoiled from the impact, momentarily stunned by the unexpected counterattack. Undeterred by the initial setback, Alastor attempted to regather his composure and make another attempt. Yet with each subsequent effort, the resistance only grew stronger, the strange magic proving to be a formidable obstacle to his shadowy form's entry. What the hell did she do to block HIS magic?

He started reforming into his physical form, clenching his fists in frustration. Stepping up to the door, he hovered his hand over it. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus, to see if he could feel anything magical. Surely enough, he began sensing a very strong locking seal on the entrance.

Opening his eyes, he began trying to reveal it. Maybe if he recognized the sigil, he could find a way to break it. The hand that was hovering over the door began to glow a soft green. Lifting his hand, he started moving it all around the wood, hoping to find the sigil's location.

As his hand reached the top of the door, a violet-colored glowing sigil revealed itself. So it was one hundred percent confirmed: Ginger was indeed someone who knew her way around magic. Judging by the fact that he couldn't recognize the marking, the lock kept him from entering, and the magic seal felt powerful. He knew she wasn't just some small fry witch—oh no, she was very strong. After all, keeping the Radio Demon out from anywhere was certainly an accomplishment.

As Alastor scrutinized the violet-colored sigil, he felt a palpable sense of power emanating from it. It wasn't just a simple ward; it was a formidable barrier, intricately woven with layers of protective magic. Each line and curve of the sigil seemed to pulse with energy, repelling any attempt to breach its defenses.

As he attempted to unravel the sigil's enchantments, he encountered resistance at every turn. It was as if the magic itself resisted his intrusion, pushing back against his efforts with a stubborn resilience. No matter how he tried to manipulate it, the sigil held firm, its protective barrier unyielding.

Frustration simmered beneath Alastor's calm exterior as he grappled with the realization that he was facing a foe of considerable power. The locking magic was not just keeping him out of the room; it was actively thwarting his attempts to understand it, a testament to Ginger's formidable abilities. With a sigh, Alastor withdrew his hand, acknowledging defeat for the time being.

As he turned away from the door, his mind raced with possibilities. What other secrets lay hidden within Ginger's room, and what could they reveal about her true nature? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: Ginger was not to be underestimated.

He started feeling glad he didn't eat her when he found her. But it made him wonder.

What else could she do?

Ginger's pov

As you slip into an unconscious state, it's as if you're descending into a soft, ethereal mist, cocooning you in its gentle embrace. Weightlessness overtakes your body, as if gravity has released its hold on your body. With each passing moment, your senses become hyper-aware, amplifying every sound, touch, and scent, pulling you deeper into the enchanting realm of dreams.

Once you fall completely asleep you find yourself surrounded by an ocean of blackness. As you swim through the boundless void, your mind clears like the dissipating mist, allowing you to focus with newfound clarity.

With a whispered command of your imagination, the shapeless expanse begins to ripple and shimmer, as if responding to your words.

Slowly at first, tendrils of color emerge, painting delicate hues upon the empty canvas. Shades of emerald green intertwine with the deepest ebony, weaving a tapestry of shadows and light. The void trembles with anticipation, eager to take form under the spell of your creative will.

As your focus on the image you're trying to create the transformation quickens, and before your eyes, the formless void begins to coalesce into solid substance. Trees materialize from the darkness, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the forest.

Leaves unfurl in a symphony of verdant whispers, and the earth beneath your feet takes shape, soft and yielding to your touch. The air thrums with the pulse of life, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth on its invisible currents.

With a final surge of energy, the metamorphosis is complete—a dense, dark forest now stretches as far as the eye can see, its canopy of foliage obscuring the starry sky above.

Stepping onto solid ground, you feel the damp earth beneath your feet, and the cool breeze blowing through your ginger hair. Your senses are immediately drawn to a soft, white glow hovering just ahead. The orb emits a gentle luminescence, casting flickering shadows upon the towering trees surrounding you. The orb floats effortlessly ahead of you, leading you deeper into the heart of the forest. As you follow its gentle guidance, the dense foliage begins to thin, revealing a clearing bathed in the silvery light of the full moon.

At the center of the clearing, you pause, mesmerized by the celestial beauty above. And as you gaze upon the luminous orb hovering before you, a presence begins to materialize—the figure of the Goddess emerges from the ethereal glow, her presence commanding the space around her. She is adorned with long, flowing black hair that cascades around her like wispy shadowy tendrils, moving with an otherworldly grace.

Upon her forehead, a shimmering moon sigil gleams with an ancient power, marking her as a divine being of lunar origin. Her long flowy dress, a radiant silver hue, seems to shimmer and glow, its incorporeal form appearing almost ghostly against the backdrop of the night.

She floats effortlessly above the forest floor, her gaze fixed upon you with eyes that are completely white, devoid of iris or pupils.

Surrounding her is a dark aura, vast and impenetrable, swirling with an intensity that speaks of depths unknown. She is the embodiment of darkness itself, not in its malevolent sense, but as its keeper.

She is Mona, the Moon Goddess.

When she fully manifests before you, you bow to the powerful Goddess. As you raise your head, she extends her hand, and you watch in awe as it transforms. At first, it is an indistinct shadow, a mere silhouette in the dim light. Slowly, it begins to change, like smoke swirling and condensing into a solid form. The edges of the shadow blur and ripple, then start to coalesce, becoming more defined. Dark wisps of energy dance and weave together, gradually shaping into the delicate contours of a hand. The hand becomes fully corporeal, rich with the detail of veins, knuckles, and the soft, warm skin of a living being.

She cups your cheek, and you lean into her touch, feeling the comforting dark energy seep into your very being. Calm washes over you, and your worries slip away under her warm, motherly touch.

She withdraws her hand and begins to speak, her voice resonating through the dark forest.

“What brings you here, my child?”

“I seek your guidance, Mother. I have descended into your realm, Hell. I’m trapped in a situation I cannot escape without your help. The coven of the Sun God, your brother’s worshippers, are here. They have cursed me, condemned my soul to rot away within a year. Please, Goddess, tell me you can help.”

You remove your clothes to reveal the sigil to the Goddess. She steps closer and with a delicate touch of her fingertips, tracing around the scar, she examines the curse. Her expression grows sorrowful as she reveals her answer.

“I’m sorry, my child, but the only one who's able to undo the spell is the one who casted, either by their own volition or by death.”

You felt your heart sink. Your coven, they would never forgive you, they have too much hate for you. And killing them? Well easier said than done, there's a lot of members and they are a lot more powerful than you are, especially together. It was hopeless.

“No, no, no!” You groan in frustration, the tension gripping you like a vise. With a heavy heart, you bury your face in your hands, fingers digging into your scalp as if trying to alleviate the weight of your despair. Each breath feels labored, each moment filled with a sense of hopeless anguish that threatens to consume you whole.

It was all over, you're going to die in a year and there's nothing you can do.

You feel a warm hand touch your shoulder, sending a calming energy through your spine. You sigh, gradually calming down from the Goddesses comforting touch. That's when you realize you are still in danger, the coven can still find you and drag you back to the torture cell. Not to mention not wanting to involve the hotel in this mess, that would surely end horribly.

You lift your head to look at Mona, a small empathetic smile on her face as she looks at you. You wipe off the tears that you just realized were rolling down your cheek. With a few sniffles and shaky breaths you finally gain back some composure.

“There is another matter you might be able to help me with, Mother. I want to learn about my demon powers and how to use them. If the coven returns and tries to hurt me again, I need to be prepared. Could you please show me how to harness my powers?”

With a warm, reassuring smile, Mona extends her hand. As she does, shadowy tendrils emerge from her fingertips, weaving through the forest like hungry serpents. They consume the surroundings, devouring the familiar landscape until all that remains is a dark void. In this abyss, the only source of illumination is the faint, ethereal glow emanating from the Goddess herself.

“Let's begin," says the Goddess.

"To discover your powers, you must delve deep within yourself, exploring the darkest corners of your past. Take a deep breath and reflect, recalling your most grievous transgressions."

You inhale deeply, centering yourself, and begin to sift through your memories, navigating the murky depths of your past misdeeds.

As you focus on a particular memory, your surroundings shift. You and the Goddess materialize within the memory itself, witnessing your past unfold like scenes from a movie.

It's a memory of the first person you killed after massacring your coven. You wanted to steal his money since you were low on cash. The tavern you've been working in as a barmaid barely made you enough to get by. He was sitting at one of the tables close to the bar, already heavily inebriated. He was taller than you, but not by a lot, he was also a smaller skinnier build. Not a very attractive fella. He was known to be a drunkard, hitting on the barmaids, touching them inappropriately. He was the perfect target.

Approaching him with measured steps, you wear a practiced seductive smile, your eyes gleaming with calculated allure. As you settle onto his lap, you can feel the weight of his gaze, clouded by intoxication, lingering on your form as the smell of sweat and ale filling your senses.

Leaning in close, you weave a tapestry of lies with your words, each syllable dripping with honeyed deceit. You stroke his ego, praising his strength and attractiveness, while subtly steering the conversation to your advantage.

With every whispered compliment, you draw him deeper into your web of deception, until he's putty in your hands, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath your facade.

After a few more drinks and a skillful exchange of words, you deftly pilfer the man's pouch without him even noticing, slipping away from the table with your prize in hand. Leaving the drunken mess of a man to his own devices, you disappear into the shadows of the tavern.

Days later, a group of men emerged from the doorway, stomping in angrily into the tavern. You recognized one of the men as the one you stole from a few nights ago.

They approached you, shouting a growling demanding you give the guys money back. You try to calmly explain that you don't have the money. You tell them that you're poor and you work because your husband can't. You explained how you stole the money to buy medicine for him. They seem to ignore your words, throwing insults and threats your way. That's when the owner shows up and demands that they leave his tavern.

With a few more insults and profanities exchanged, the men left. After your shift finishes and you begin walking home, immediately feeling uneasy. Your intuition tells you to beware. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch sight of the men trailing behind, their menacing silhouettes growing ever closer. The men from the tavern hot on your feet as you speed up, eventually turning to a full sprint. Ducking into a narrow alleyway, you press yourself against the cold stone wall, breath coming in ragged gasps as you watch the men scour the area, their shadows looming ominously in the flickering lamplight.

One with a mustache comes close to your hiding spot. He's a lot bigger than the fella you robbed, he could easily overpower you. Sensing the need for a distraction, you whisper a barely audible incantation. A sudden loud bang reverberates from the other side of the street. Startled, the men pivot towards the noise, their attention diverted as they rush to investigate.

You have the chance to make your escape, but something mischievous starts bubbling within you. How much fun it would be to mess with them. You quietly run behind a tree, you begin slowly climbing it. From your elevated vantage point, you weave another spell, projecting your voice to the spot where you were originally concealed.

The men, drawn by the illusion, scramble to the empty hiding spot, their frustration evident as they find nothing. Delighting in the chaos you've created, you repeat the process, sending them on a wild goose chase around the alleyways. At some point your cheeks start hurting from smiling, trying very hard to keep the laughter escaping from your throat.

But soon, your amusement wanes, and you decide it's time to make your escape. With a final diversionary spell, you project the sound of running footsteps in the opposite direction, leading the men away as you slip quietly from your perch. As they give chase to the phantom sound, you descend from the tree, straightening your dress with a composed air, ready to disappear into the night.

As you descend from the tree, you're startled to find yourself face to face with the man you robbed days ago.

“She's here!! The thief is— UGHH” instinct takes over and you swiftly plunge your pocket knife you always keep with you into his stomach.

He collapses, gasping for air, clutching his wound in agony. Despite the rush of power coursing through you, there's no time to revel in it. With a menacing smile, you turn to flee, but the approaching footsteps of the men from before hasten your departure.

As you sprint through the streets, desperation sets in, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs burning with exertion. With the men hot on your trail, you realize you can't outrun them for much longer. Frantically scanning your surroundings, your eyes alight on a nearby house with a clothesline adorned with drying garments.

Without hesitation, you dash towards it, ripping the men's clothing from the line and hastily donning the disguise. A hat pulled low over your brow completes the transformation, obscuring your features as you blend into the shadows of the night, evading capture once more.

“Hey, boy, have you seen a woman running this way?"

The largest man pants, desperation evident in his voice. Without a word, you gesture in the opposite direction of your intended escape. They nod in gratitude, their footsteps quickening as they follow your false lead.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you hurry home, hastily packing your belongings as you prepare to leave the town behind. Before stepping out into the streets, you take a small knife and make a precise, deliberate cut across your palm, the pain sharp and immediate. Holding a deep bowl beneath your hand, you watch as the deep crimson blood drips steadily into it.

With your blood as the cornerstone of the ritual, you add rusty nails and rotten eggs, dried thorns and dead insects, a splash of vinegar, and a pinch of wormwood. These ingredients, potent and foul, amplify the dark energy of your spell.

Next, you write down the names of the men who pursued you, they were regulars so you have heard their names slip from their mouths. Placing the slips of paper into the bowl, each one soaking in the blood and other ingredients. The connection to your enemies is now tangible, their fate sealed within the mix.

Striking your flint and steel, you light the contents of the bowl. The flames flare up with an eerie glow, the blood sizzling and hissing as the hex activates. You watch intently as the fire consumes the mixture, the power of your blood magic sending waves of sickness and misfortune to the men who wronged you.

As the fire dies down to smoldering embers, you feel the energy of the hex solidify. With a final glance at the dying flames, you quickly duck out of your home, slipping into the night to begin your journey to another town, leaving the cursed remnants behind.

This was the first town you abandoned in such a manner. After three years of residing there, you depart due to a murder you committed, devoid of any remorse. It marks the beginning of a pattern, a cycle of fleeing from consequences that will repeat itself in towns to come.

With the memory dissipating like smoke, shadowy tendrils throwing you into another.

As you delve into the next memory, the scene unfolds before you with chilling clarity. You find yourself in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of iron and decay. Your pulse quickens as you confront the man who dared to lay a hand on you.

It's 1886 and it's the first time you used your blood magic to kill someone. The man, Joseph, was someone you were fond of. You didn't exactly love him. No, the ability to love has been something you couldn't xperience anymore, and you'll be damned if you ever trust a man again.

Either way he was somewhat close to you, but he mistook that friendship as something more. He tried to court you, not taking no for an answer. Joseph tried to get you to agree to go on a date with him several times, eventually he grew tired of you declining him and tried to use force against you. You two were in your home having a few drinks when he tried to kiss you. Pulling away from him only resorted to him grabbing you angrily to shove his lips against yours. You managed to escape his grip and knock him out quickly, he was out cold immediately as you broke a bottle of wine over his head. So that's where you were now, in the basement, with his form sprawled out on the cold altar table, bound and unconscious.

It was the perfect time to try out a new ritual dedicated to the Huntress Goddess. You were trying to find a perfect victim after all, and of course not wanting to just kill any innocent rando, it was very convenient timing on his part really.

His face contorts in confusion as he begins to stir, awakening to find himself at your mercy.

As you stand before the bound man, his chest exposed on the altar, a tense silence fills the dimly lit basement. You can feel the weight of his gaze upon you, a mixture of fear and confusion flickering in his eyes. With a steady hand, you reach for your tools, the implements of your craft gleaming in the faint light.

“Why are you doing this?" he demands, his voice tinged with desperation. "What do you want from me?"

You pause, regarding him with a cool detached look. "What I want is of no consequence to you now," you reply, your voice low and steady. "You have trespassed against me, and now you must face the consequences."

His eyes widen in realization, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with fear. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It was a mistake, I swear. We can fix this, go back to being friends." Joseph was begging like a pathetic puppy. Disgusting, he thought he could just have you, but what else did you expect from a man? They take what they don't own without hesitation or remorse. You are ready to make him pay for his actions.

You remain unmoved, your resolve unshakeable. "Words mean nothing now," you say, your tone devoid of emotion. Taking the sharp blade out of its sheet, a beautiful knife, with the handle made out of a deer antler, intricate symbols carved on it. "Actions have consequences, and yours have led you here.” you point the knife to his chest, you see his breath quicken, eyes widening, expression turning into that of a cornered animal.

As you begin the ritual, his protests grow more frantic, his struggles against his bonds growing increasingly desperate, but you pay him no mind. Attaching the deer antlers to your victim, tying them to his head securely. You dedicated this animal, your perfect prey, to Fenja, the Huntress Goddess. Your focus is unwavering as you channel the dark energies swirling within you.

By offering this man's life to the Goddess, you will be granted protection from all dangers for an entire year. She will shield you from harm and guide you on the right path.

As the ritual reaches its climax, you draw upon the man's life force, draining his blood from his wrists with a steady hand. The crimson liquid flows into the deep bowl beneath him, pooling with dark intent as you prepare to channel its power.

With practiced precision, you carve intricate sigils into his chest, dedicated to the hunt, each stroke imbued with the ancient symbols of your craft. The man's skin yields to your touch, the marks etched into his flesh like a twisted tapestry of agony and despair.

With that you pick up your spell book, whispering incantations in an ancient language, praying to Fenja to grant you protection and to humbly accept the offering in trade. With the last words leaving your lips you hover over the man's sprawled out body. He's barely conscious because of the blood loss. With a savage determination, you reach for the sacrificial dagger at your side, its blade glinting in the dim light.

With a swift and merciless stroke, you plunge the deer bone dagger into the man's chest, tearing through muscle and sinew until you reach the prize you seek: his still-beating heart. With a triumphant cry, you wrench the heart from his chest, holding it aloft with a savage hunger in your eyes.

And then, without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the pulsing organ, tearing into its flesh with a primal ferocity. The taste of blood fills your mouth, a heady mixture of triumph and power coursing through your veins as you consume the man's essence.

Your body quivers as a surge of power courses through you, each fiber vibrating with the intensity of the Huntress's magic. Your eyes alight with a mesmerizing hue of deep purple, as if infused with the very essence of the hunt.

The spell had worked, making that year incredibly peaceful. No one tried to expose you as a magic practitioner, you robbed and tricked people effortlessly, and you remained free from sickness and disease. It was perfect. The only downside was a little cannibalism, but with such a great payoff, why not? This ritual was just a modified version of what you did in the coven, where you used a raw deer heart instead of a human one. Somehow, the heart of this man gave you much more power than the deer’s. After that, you repeated the spell yearly.

As the memory begins to fade, reminders of past actions flicker into view, but before you can dwell on them for long, you're swiftly pulled into another memory, whisked away from the haunting echoes of the past.

As 1922 unfolded in New York, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The roaring twenties were your favorite decade, even with the tragic things that happened, now you were witnessing its glorious resurgence. With anticipation bubbling inside you, you eagerly embraced the era's vibrancy and allure. It was time to relive the golden days of the twenties once again.

You were sitting on a barstool of your favorite speakeasy, sipping on bootleg hooch and whisky imported from England. The Blind Tiger was owned by a man who was famous all over New York. Marco Moretti, a notorious bootlegger, a cruel criminal who held the coppers in the palm of his hands, and insanely rich.

The velvety warmth of fine whisky caressed your throat, igniting a familiar thrill as you took another sip. A symphony of smoke and spirits swirled around you, mingling with the lively jazz melodies that pulsed through the air. Your finger traced the rhythm of the music on the table, echoing the fast-paced tempo. Amidst the sea of elegant suits and dazzling dresses, joyous laughter and spirited dancing filled the room, painting a vibrant tableau of revelry and indulgence. Ah what a time to be alive.

With a cigarette poised between your lips, you fished out your lighter from your bag, anticipating the comforting glow of a flame. However, despite your best efforts, the stubborn lighter remained unyielding, failing to spark. Frustration increases as you click it repeatedly.

*flick*

"Ugh, God damn it," you muttered, cursing the heavens for denying you the simple pleasure of a nicotine fix. Disheartened, you slumped forward, resting your head on the worn bar table. Suddenly, the faint sound of another flick and the crackle of fire caught your attention.

Raising your head, you leaned into the offered flame, finally igniting your cigarette. As a wave of calmness washed over you with each inhale, you glanced up to thank the gentleman responsible, only to realize you were face to face with an actual mobster, none other than Marco Moretti, the owner of the speakeasy.

“Thank you kindly, sir” you look at him and my my he was handsome too.

“Of course Bella, it's my pleasure” he said, offering you a sweet smile.

As the night went on, you found yourself talking and laughing with him, the smoky haze of the speakeasy wrapping around you like a veil. Marco was more than just a notorious figure; he was magnetic, captivating, and before you knew it, you were drawn into his world.

You were good at deception and trickery, at least that's what you thought until you met him. But he was like a mastermind, always ten steps ahead, fooling everyone effortlessly. As you two got closer, Marco introduced you to the inner workings of his empire, teaching you the art of discretion and the finesse of manipulation. You became his confidant, his right hand, his partner in crime, and soon, the two of you were running New York together.

Horse races at Belmont Park became your playground. You and Marco would arrive in style, decked out in the finest attire. The crowds would part as you walked through, a power couple exuding confidence and control. You placed bets with an air of nonchalance, always seeming to know the right horse to back, thanks to the inside information Marco had at his disposal.

Nights were a spectacle of luxury and excess. Lavish balls hosted in grand mansions became the norm, where the city's elite mingled with the criminal elite under a veneer of propriety. You danced under crystal chandeliers, the jazz music lively as alway. Every event was an opportunity to forge alliances and reinforce your status.

But it wasn't just the glamor that defined your days. You were involved in the meticulous planning of heists and the orchestration of elaborate bootlegging operations. You learned how to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld, gaining a reputation for your cunning and ruthlessness. Together, you bribed officials, outsmarted rivals, and expanded your influence, making the Moretti name synonymous with both fear and respect all around the country.

One night, after a particularly successful operation that involved smuggling a massive shipment of whisky through the city's sewers, you and Marco stood on the rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria, looking out over the glittering skyline of New York.

Marco turned to you, his expression serious. "We've come a long way, Bella. This city is ours for the taking, but we have to stay sharp. The higher we climb, the further we have to fall.”

He pulled you close to his chest, kissed the top of your head. Your relationship with him was complicated. You two were necessarily a couple, but it wasn't friendship either. It was a weird in-between thing you two had, since both of you knew that being together would do more harm than good.

But you loved each other, maybe not in the romantic sense, but you cared for him deeply and he cared for you two. It felt like nothing could stop the two of you. That is until one fateful night tragedy struck.

It started as a routine operation, a delivery of bootleg whisky to a new speakeasy on the Lower East Side. You and Marco were confident, your plan meticulously crafted. But as you navigated the narrow alleyways, a trap was sprung. Rival gang members ambushed you. Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks of pistols echoing off the brick walls.

Marco and you fought back fiercely, but you were outnumbered. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—this wasn't just a skirmish; it was an execution.

“Get out of here, Bella!" Marco shouted, shoving you towards a narrow escape route between two buildings. "I'll hold them off!”

“Are you insane Marco, this is suicide!” you protested, your heart pounding with fear and anger.

“Go!" he commanded, his eyes fierce and determined.

Tears stung your eyes as you hesitated, but the gravity of the situation forced you to comply. With one last, anguished look at Marco, you fled, the sounds of gunfire and shouts fading as you ran.

You found refuge in an abandoned warehouse, heart heavy with dread. Minutes felt like hours as you waited, hoping against hope that Marco would emerge from the shadows, unscathed. But deep down, you knew the truth. He was gone.

The grief and rage from Marco’s death propelled you back to the Moretti mansion with a fierce determination to regroup and plan your next move. However, as you approached, the eerie silence and the flickering lights filled you with a foreboding sense of dread. The usually bustling estate was ominously quiet.

You stepped inside, and the scene that greeted you was nothing short of a nightmare. Bodies of Marco’s loyal men and women lay scattered, their lives brutally snuffed out. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and your heart sank as you realized that the rival gang had struck again, this time with a devastating blow.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed you from behind, yanking you into the main hall where the leader of the rival gang, a menacing figure named Vito Rossi, stood smirking. His henchmen surrounded you, their faces twisted with malicious glee.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Vito sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “The infamous queen of the Moretti empire. Too bad your reign ends tonight.”

They tied you to a chair, and Vito leaned in close, his breath hot and rancid against your face. “We’ve taken everything—your money, your power, your family. Now, we’ll take your life.”

Stupid fools, they should have known better than to mess with you. And what they did to the Moretti family, the closest people you deemed family in a long while. People who took you in, accepted your wickedness, welcomed it and loved you for who you are. And they butchered them. Now they think they are going to kill you too? I don't think so.

Your heart pounded with fury, but on the outside you remained calm, closing your eyes you focused on the incantation.

“Blood be still, body freeze, halt their will, bring them to their knees.”

The words rolled off your tongue in a whisper, and a sudden chill filled the room. Vito paused, confusion flickering across his face as the room filled with dread, the feeling of dark magic surrounding them. His men looked around uneasily, their bravado wavering

“What the hell is—” Vito’s question was cut off as his blood began to freeze in his veins. One by one, the gang members’ eyes widened in terror, their bodies locking into place as the spell took hold.

With a flick of your fingers, the ropes binding you to the chair snapped, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You stood, your expression cold and resolute, and walked over to Vito, who was now immobilized, his eyes filled with a mix of horror and disbelief.

“You underestimated me,” you said softly, your voice echoing in the silent room. “And now you’ll pay the price.”

With deliberate steps, you collected the bags of money they had stolen, securing them in a large satchel. The room remained deathly silent, save for the faint clicking of your heels on the tiled floor.

1928, you're sitting on a train, with bags full of cash and a broken life. Heading to New Orleans, changing your appearance, starting a new life. This wasn't the first time you've done this, so why does it hurt to leave?

Even with the pain of losing someone so important to you, you find yourself happy in a bittersweet way. With deep breath you're ready to create a new life for yourself once more.

The air is thick with the scent of smoke, mingling with the metallic tang of fear. Dark figures loom around a crackling bonfire, their distorted shapes dancing eerily in the flickering light. Voices rise in a cacophony of chants, their words twisted and distorted, sending shivers down your spine.

Amidst the chaos, a haunting sound cuts through the night air – the heart-wrenching cry of a child, its echoes reverberating through the darkness. You can feel the weight of despair pressing down on you as you strain to shut out the horrifying scene unfolding before you. Your breathing quickens, vision blurs as you drop to the floor. With your eyes trained on the ground, you pull on your ears, trying to ground yourself somehow as you relive the worst thing that happened to you.

Suddenly, there's a sickening gurgle, followed by a woman screaming, and then unsettling silence that hangs heavy in the air like a shroud. Your heart clenches as you realize the depth of the darkness that surrounds this memory, its tendrils reaching out to ensnare you in its grip. With a sense of dread, you shut your eyes tightly, trying to escape the haunting images that threaten to consume you whole.

That's when you feel a pair of hands grip you, yanking you from the deep dark memory. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, your heart rate slowing down as you realize that the Goddess pulled you out of the nightmare. Looking around you find yourself back in the void, Mona close to you, comforting you after the painful reminder of your past.

“It seems this is not something we're ready to look through. Moving through memories like this can be dangerous if we get too lost in them. They can pull you in, making you relive them forever. I needed to pull you out when you reacted in such a manner.”

You turn towards the Goddess, slowly coming back to your normal self, pushing down the thoughts of pain and suffering.

“Was it enough revisiting to know what kind of demon magic I have?” You ask tiredly, hoping that you don't have to jump to another memory again.

“Yes, it will be enough”replied the Goddess.

“So, what kind of magic do I possess?“

“What is it that you've observed my child?” Asked the Goddess.

“I tricked them. I used my words, my magic, my womanly charms and my resourcefulness and fooled all of them. And once I was done, I changed my appearance and my name and moved away, just to do it all over again. Those who deserved my help, I protected fiercely and those who crossed me paid the price.”

“And what kind of power would you possess if this is what you did in life”

“Trickery?” You ask.

The Goddess Mona, with her ethereal glow and an air of timeless wisdom, smiles at your realization. "Indeed, trickery is your gift," she affirms, her voice a melodic whisper that reverberates through the obsidian walls of the training room. "The power of trickery is multifaceted and incredibly potent. Let me explain the abilities you can harness from it."

She raises her hand, and a cascade of shimmering shadows forms a delicate, intricate web in the air. The web is a mesmerizing tapestry, each thread pulsating with a different hue, weaving a vibrant display of color and shadow. The strands are as fine as spider silk, interlacing in complex patterns that shift and shimmer as they move.

"First, you have the ability of Illusions," she begins, her fingers dancing through the threads. "You can manipulate the senses of others, creating images and sounds that deceive and confuse. With practice, you can even craft entire landscapes, making your enemies question their reality."

A thread of silver light glows brighter, and she touches it gently. "Next is Shape-shifting. You have the power to alter your appearance at will, adopting new forms to blend in, evade capture, or mislead. This ability goes beyond mere disguise; you can mimic voices, mannerisms, and even the aura of those you emulate."

The web shifts, and a dark, almost invisible thread comes to the forefront. "Then there is Invisibility. By bending light and shadow, you can render yourself unseen. This can be momentary, a flicker to avoid detection, or sustained to move unseen through the world."

Mona's hand moves to a vibrant, glowing thread of pink. "You also possess Charm and Persuasion. This isn't just about speaking convincingly; you can infuse your words with magic, compelling others to see things your way, believe your lies, or even act against their own interests. With this, you can sway the minds and hearts of those around you."

Finally, she touches a deep crimson thread, pulsating with a dark energy. "And then there is Blood Bending. This is unusual but since you used your blood in your craft while you were alive it is not surprising that you possess this gift. This rare and formidable power allows you to manipulate the blood within living beings. You can control their movements, immobilize them, or even inflict pain. This ability is incredibly dangerous and must be wielded with the utmost caution. It gives you dominion over life itself, turning your enemies into mere puppets under your command."

Mona lets the web dissolve, its threads dissipating like mist. She steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "These are your gifts, the powers of trickery. They are tools for survival and conquest. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Use them wisely, my child."

“Thank you Goddess, I really appreciate your help” you bow to her in gratitude as the space shifts again, returning to the dark forest.

“I think it's time you returned to the real world now, child. You should practice your powers.”

Without much time to process her words, She snaps her finger and you're jolted awake from your bed.

Oh my, you're quite a powerful demon.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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momiji-bookhouse · 2 years

Note

Your writing is so good, I love reading your work! Could you write for Albedo + Glaze Lily please?

[Glaze Lily]: "Tell me, oh storyteller, of the tale of those ill-fated, star-crossed lovers."

Event Masterlist

pairing: Albedo x gn!reader

genre: angst

At its core, the art of alchemy goes against the natural order of the world. The process of breaking an object down into its very essence, molding it to one's will and transfigure it into something else entirely, is one that displays the arrogance of humankind in thinking they can tame something that cannot, and should not, be controlled. But those ever lofty gods do not take heed to these trivial acts of arrogance. What harm is there in allowing mere mortals to fiddle with a little sliver of power?

Alchemy remains harmless to their eyes, until it deals with giving what was once inanimate or decayed feeble life, something they thought they have buried deep underground long ago.

Their fears are realized when a practitioner of that forbidden knowledge appeared in the high walls of Mondstadt.

"Do you think he'll come today?"

"I sure hope so! He's so dreamy~."

You finish the coffee order in your hand, only half-listening to the conversation from your coworkers about some guy who's been coming into the cafe lately.

"What's so great about this guy anyways?" You ask after handing the coffee to the customer.

"Oh (Y/N), if you were here then you would get it. He's so handsome! He must a model. Or an actor."

"Or a prince of some kind. Gods, he looks like he's straight out of a fairy tale. I wouldn't mind if he sweeps me off my feet."

"And his voice...I can melt just thinking about it. Do you think he voices audiobooks?"

"Maybe he can help cure my insomnia by reading a bedtime story to me."

You look at them in suspicion. "That sounds a little too perfect."

"I thought so too! But man, he's so fine. Even his name is pretty." One of them sighs. "Albedo."

Something prickles at the back of your mind at the name, but you quickly shake the feeling off. "That's a rare name."

"I know! I tried looking him up, but he doesn't seem to have much of a social media presence."

"Oh, if only he would show up for your last shift, (Y/N), then you'll see."

You smile ruefully at the reminder that this will be the last time you work here before you move to another city. "Let's see what happens."

To your coworkers' dismay, there's no sign of that mysterious, golden customer. Though you can't deny that you're curious, there's no help mulling on what could have been, especially when you're going to be leaving soon.

At the end of your shift, you change out of your work clothes and hug all of your coworkers goodbye, clocking out one last time before exiting out the back door to start a new chapter in your life.

A few minutes later, the bell chimes, and a young man with hair as pale as chalk walks through the front door.

───── ⋆⋅✨⋅⋆ ─────

The gods trembled upon their divine seats in a mixture of fear and indignation at the last remaining student of the Art of Khemia. An abominable creature existing outside of their jurisdiction that cannot be directly influenced by their dictated fate.

But they would not make their move just yet. No, let the false creation be lured into a sense of security. Let him be convinced that he deserved a life of happiness and peace.

He would make a mistake soon enough.

Spending time in an art gallery isn't what you expected for your day-off, but some of your colleagues have recommended this place to you ever since you've moved here, so you figured there's no harm in going. Besides, it would be a nice change of pace, and it's free to enter to boot.

Coincidentally, the day you decided to go is the day that the gallery is introducing a new exhibition from an artist that you've never heard of before.

"Kreideprinz?" You pronounces as you look at the brochure in curiosity, the name settling into your tongue like a well-worn blanket.

"It means Chalk Prince," the person at the counter informs you. "He's a rising artist that started out in the online space and amassed a following over the years for his sketches and paintings. He's famous for blending realism with a fantastical approach in his landscape depictions. His identity has been a well-kept secret in the industry, but there's a rumor that he may appear at the event tonight."

"Is that so?" You say under your breath while scanning quickly through the brochure. There's no denying the beauty of these images.

"You can find out more on the website if you're interested."

The exhibition is called "On the Boundary", and according to the brochure in your hand, displays a series of his paintings that depicts the world constantly in motion and often on the cusp of a transitional stage.

You stroll through the gallery and find yourself lost in these worlds: from a blooming field of Cecilias that hide signs of decay and rot; to the ancient mountain of Vindagnyr — verdant and prosperous, only belied by a thin flutter of snow on the ground; to the old city of Mondstadt blanketed by darkness and a whisper of a storm.

But not all of it signifies doom and gloom. There's the Tower of Decarabian and the bubbles of resistance hidden among the crowd. The early formation of Liyue Harbor, a skeleton of its now glorious self. The rain slowing its downpour on Yashiori Island. A dazzling depiction of Sumeru City as dreams return to its people.

You stop at a painting of Starsnatch Cliff at night, not as sprawling or grandiose as the others, but something about the simplicity of it draws you in. You wonder what the change could be in this one, could it be the saplings of Cecilia dotted throughout the dusky landscape? Or something in the breeze? Or maybe it's the silhouette of two figures sitting on the precipice of the cliff, bodies so close together that they almost seem to be fusing.

You stare at the sight, entranced. An overwhelming, unnameable feeling fills your soul, a mixture of wistfulness, nostalgia, and yearning. You've been to Starsnatch Cliff once before, but never like this. This is the cliff in another time other than your own. So why is it that you can feel the breeze caressing your cheek, the solid presence of someone beside you, their velvet touch against your skin?

You snap out of your reverie just in time to realize that you had a hand outstretched as if you were going to touch the canvas. You look around to catch the disapproving look from the security guard nearby and quickly retract your hand, your cheeks flaming in shame.

You walk away, and that unexplainable feeling becomes nothing more than dew sliding off a leaf.

That night, a young man wanders discreetly through the gallery, his eyes as blue as the waters of Cider Lake sweeping over each artwork before halting at a particular one.

He gazes at the painting of the lovers on Starsnatch Cliff, and only those observant enough would be able to understand the look in his eyes.

───── ⋆⋅✨⋅⋆ ─────

The creature had everything anyone could ever desire for. Respect from his colleague, power, talent, friends, family, even love. Oh, how he trembled when he realized that this molded heart of his could be capable of such a flighty and ferocious emotion.

How tangible he must have felt, how corporeal and human to be able to taste the fruits of love. He thought he had risen above his shameful origins and was worthy to stand by his lover.

Oh, how the gods anticipated his eventual fall from grace.

It's the perfect day for a stroll in the park, and you congratulate yourself for dragging your body out of bed and enjoy the weather for a little bit, even when your plans for the evening consist of binge-watching your favorite shows and ordering takeout. Ah well, no shame in that.

You're walking along the lake when you feel something crashing into you. You're preparing to chastise them when you realized that the person is only a child, a blonde girl wearing a red dress adorned with clover patterns whose height only manages to hit your upper thighs. Tears rim her eyes, and she has a panicked look on her face.

"What's wrong, are you lost?"

"Klee can't find her mom anywhere! I wanted to see the ducks so I turned away from her for a moment and now I don't know where she is!" She lets out in a ramble.

"Ok," you gently take a hold of her shoulders. "I need you to calm down for me, Klee. We'll find your mom together."

"R-really?"

"Yeah," you smiled. "I promise. Can you describe her to me?"

"M-mom has blonde hair like me, and she's wearing a red dress today so we can match! She's also tall, and very pretty!"

You nod and look down at her dress. Let's hope that there's not a lot of blonde women wearing red dresses with clover patterns in the park today. "Ok, let's go find her."

You let the little girl take your hand and slowly lead her through the park, eyes peeled for the woman fitting the description. You decided to go towards the security booth, thinking that if a panicked parent just lost their child, that would probably be the first place they go to.

Along the way, you get to talking with Klee to ease her worries, asking about her family and listening to her stories about Dodoco (her early interest in chemistry and bomb-making is a bit concerning, but you attribute that to childhood curiosities.)

"You remind me of my brother!"

"Hm? I do?"

She nods enthusiastically, her previous worry seeming to have lessened. "Big brother is also very kind, and he always look after me. Even when he's busy with work, he would find time to play with me."

"Sounds like a good brother."

"He is! I love him very much!"

Thankfully, true to your guess, when you arrive near the booth, there's a hassled woman fitting the description talking to the security guy., waving her arms around frantically.

"Mama!" Klee exclaims and leaves your side to run to her. At the shout, the woman turns around, her eyes brightening in relief.

"Klee!" She springs her arms open to hug the girl. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!"

"I'm sorry," Klee hangs her head guiltily. "I just wanted to look at some ducks."

The woman's shoulders sag. "Oh well, that's alright my little clover. You're here now. Are you okay?"

"Mhmm! I had some help!" Klee gestures to you, still standing there to see the reunion. The woman locks her eyes with yours, and to your surprise, a quick flash of recognition goes through them. She looks at you stiffly, eyebrows furrowed and her mouth almost hanging open.

But she recovers only a second later. "Thank you for helping my Klee."

"It's nothing." You wave a hand. "I'm glad I was able to help."

She nods, and the movement seemed tense. "Come on Klee, say goodbye to the nice person."

"Bye bye!"

"Bye Klee, bye Dodoco."

The woman looks as if though she wants to say something more, but at the last minute she turns away, and offers nothing else than a wave goodbye.

───── ⋆⋅✨⋅⋆ ─────

His fate may not be written by their hands, but his lover was not immune to the whims of destiny.

How cruel it must have been to see a life taken so prematurely, when there was still so much potential and purpose left. How distraught the alchemist was when he witnessed the lifeless body of his lover, how he had begged and pleaded and prayed to the gods he never truly believed in.

They were anticipating this moment, and his next action was one that would seal their paths forever.

"False creation, your attempt at tampering with the natural order of this world to revive a human corpse to life has left us no choice but to intervene. Their soul is no longer of this world, and it is not your right to tether them back to a husk. We cannot ignore this transgression, nor can we let it go unpunished. While everything in this world live and die, you cannot age nor die. Enjoy your immortality, homunculus, and know that you will never be reunited with your love. No matter how many ages past, no matter how many times they reincarnate, no matter if civilizations rise or fall, your paths will never cross again. Heed our words, homunculus. Heed them...or reap the consequences."

You're speedwalking on the sidewalk, silently hoping that you'll make it in time for your appointment. You weave through the streets towards the tracks, the pedestrian light ahead letting you know that a tram will be making its way through soon. You speed up, but the moment your feet makes contact with the tram tracks, you turn to meet the sparkling teal eyes of a young man, his pale blond hair brushing his shoulders, strands pulled back into a half-ponytail to reveal ethereal and delicate features that takes your breath away.

How does one measure a moment when it seems to last forever? You're confident that you're still moving, and yet your feet seem to anchor itself to the ground, trapping yourself in this one instance and refusing to let you go. Everything that is once concrete fizzles out until your surroundings become nothing but dust. There's nothing but you and this man that you've never seen before.

Then why is it that deep inside you feel something call out to you? Why is it that goosebumps rise to your skin and ears buzzed and something creaks in your mind like an abandoned cabinet finally being opened?

Why is he gazing at you with so much tenderness and sadness?

The moment passes. You emerge on the other side safely, the tram blocking your sight entirely. You find yourself lingering for a few seconds, as if seeing if you can catch another look at that mysterious person. The fleeting desire is broken when you take a glance at your phone, horrified to know that you only have a few minutes left.

You dash off, all thoughts of that beautiful man seemingly lost to you.

───── ⋆⋅✨⋅⋆ ─────

Albedo watches as the tram pass, and to his disappointment there is no sign of you on that other side.

He had anticipated this. The gods have kept vigilant to their words for thousands of years, never letting up in their promise to never let him see you ever again. But this slip of theirs...how interesting.

He had seen it in your eyes, he knows that deep down your soul still recognizes him, even when a fog encases your heart and mind. This gives him some hope yet, that those deities up above are not all-powerful and omnipresent.

He turns away, his footsteps clacking against the sidewalk as he thinks about his next move.

He will find their weakness, topple them from their heavenly thrones with his bare hands, and reweave the strands of fate.

After all, Albedo has nothing but time and patience.

#albedo #albedo x reader #albedo drabbles #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #sagi's recommendation #momiji's collection #spring blooming event #momiji's special events

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mynameiskanade · 8 months

Text

SILLY LITTLE MIKANADE STORY !!

the door from the bathroom opened, revealing a kanade with a towel draped over their shoulder while their hair was on top of the towel. the little waterdrops forming in the end of their strands, as the drops fell to the towel underneath. kanade stretched their arms upwards in exhaustion, before walking to their bed and sitting on it. they immediately grabbed their phone from on top of the drawer nearby, turning it on to check if theres anything new. they saw a message by a familliar someone…

[theres more under cut!] [anti selfship dni :3]

kanade, in the next day, was running through the crowds of the city. it was 09:57, almost time for them to meet with mika in the cafe. they quickly ran past the shops. they suddenly stopped running, heavily panting as they felt their heart beat quite fast. they opened their phone to see: 10:01 AM. they panicked and immediately went into the cafe as the bell in front of the door rings. a familliar person quickly noticed it, and a dopey, wide smile crept onto his face when he saw kanade.

“ kanade-chan, over her’! “

mika waved to kanade from afar, kanade walked to him and sat on one of the chairs for the table mika was in. “ …..ahh.. sorry, i was a bit late.. “ kanade said, scratching the back of their head nervously. their heart seemed to beat faster from running. “ ??.. nnahh,, its fine! i think i jus’ came too early. i was hopin’ ya’d come! “ mika reassured, patting kanades head. the waiter slowly came to their table, giving them the menu.

“ so, what do ya wanna order ? i think i’d get the donut! i know ya really like strawberry donuts, so i wanna order ‘em for the both of us.. “ mika’s cheeks became as pink as the stawberry donuts on the picture of the menu.“ …. mmm… well, if you’re ordering the donut for me, then ill just take the cappuccino. “ kanade said. “ ohhh… alright then! i’ll jus’ get donuts for us. i don’ feel like eatin’ much.. “ the waiter writes down in their notepad about kanade’s and mika’s order. the waiter then took the menu and walked away. there was a slight awkward silence between kanade and mika after the waiter left, but kanade spoke:

“ ….so.. uh… oh, right. did you know theres multiple new clothing stores in a mall i used to go to a lot as a kid? “ kanade said. “ …i was hoping you might wanna.. join shopping with me? “mika’s face immediately brightened as soon as he heard that. “ nnggahh.. i wanna go wit’ ya ! tha’ sounds fun, and .. “ mika paused for a second. “ …to think i’ll be goin’ wit’ ya.. makes m’go all fuzzy.. “

the waiter then soon arrived with the food that kanade and mika ordered. they both were happy to eat the food and drinks while chatting happily with eachother. it has been a while since kanade has been this way. they felt… attached to him. kanade tries to shake the thought off and deny it by multiple times. though.. it was obvious how kanade seemed to love chatting with mika, and how kanade was the nicest to mika. it was also obvious how kanade kept looking at how mika and shu talked with eachother, feeling a teeny tiny bit of envy. …why hasnt kanade’s heart stopped beating ever since they arrived?

….i wonder if he genuinely cares about me.

—

kanade and mika soon have entered the mall, they escalated to the fifth floor to check out the new clothes stores. the stores range from hair accessories, to multiple choices of fashion. mika was definitely excited to check the stores out, taking kanade’s hand to check those stores out. kanade was startled by the sudden action, but didnt mind one bit.they both started checking out the accessories store. there were bracelets, hairclips, extensions, and some hairbands.

“ …oh, hey. “ kanade said, picking up the multiple purple hairclips. “ …i feel like this would suit you well, mikarin. i wanna see you wearing it, maybe… “ kanade kept their neutral expression that they always have on their face, but its obvious their expression seemed a bit more happy than usual. “ oohh.. i mean.. i don’ know if this will suit me… but if kanade-chan says so, ill try it on fer ya ! “ mika immediately clips on the hairclips, showing it to kanade after hes done clipping it to their hair.

“ how do i look, kanade-chan? “ mika looked at kanade with a wide grin.“ …you.. you look really great, actually.. “ kanade says. “ …im actually kind of jealous of how nice you look.. “ mika became giddy hearing it, but he grabbed kanade’s shoulder and looked at them with a serious expression. “ nggah.. but ya look so good wearin’ anythin’.. “ you can basically hear the frown and adoration in his voice. but truly, nobody can replicate how pretty you are…

kanade eyes widened, as they became red at the words of mika. kanade then paid for mika’s accessory, lovingly dragging mika out of the store. they looked down on the floor from the gaps of the floor. there was an aquarium. kanade was curious to check it out. “ ..ohh.. hey, theres an aquarium. do you maybe… wanna go check it out?? “ “ really?! i would love ta-!“ once kanade heard his answer, they immediately started running with their hand interlaced with mika’s.

“ nggahh?! s..slow down, kanade-chan-! "

—

kanade and mika are now in the aquarium. it was a dark place, but weirdly something in the sea made everything shaded blue. there was only a few people to be seen, weird. they were both met with adorable sea creatures swimming around the water, ranging from colorful to dull colors. they both felt nice. kanade places their hand on the glass of the water tank. it was truly beautiful… mika giggled at the sight. “ hehe.. yer really happy today, huh? “

“ …well, its not my fault the fishes looks cute. “ kanade said, staring into the distance. they slowly wondered, about something. “ …hey, if i was a fish, would you think im beautiful? “ kanade asked mika, tilting their head in curiosity for mika’s answer.

“ mmm… well.. i think yer pretty in every way-! “ mika then looked at kanade, they were shaded with a light blue, because they were so close to the glass. he felt like he saw something.. truly mesmerizing. he went red at the sight, becoming unresponsive. kanade looked weirdly beautiful under the shade. kanade then placed a hand infront of mika, shaking it. “ …hello? earth to.. mikarin? “ mika snapped out of it, and started stammering and almost falling back. “ n..nggah.. s..sorry, ya just looked so.. “ mika suddenly wraps his arms around them, burying his face into their neck. kanade was startled, but slowly hugs him back.

nothin’ could match yer beauty, not even the fishies..

—

soon, the clock on kanade’s phone turned 09:57 to 16:39, not noticing how the sky has faded into a warm orange. kanade and mika were walking along the streets, talking a lot to eachother.“ hehe, today was super fun! i love spendin’ time with ya, kanade-chan.. i miss the feeling a lot. “ mika smiled wide. kanade suddenly stops in their tracks, making mika suprised and looked back at kanade. “ …eh? kanade-chan, why did ya suddenly stop..? “

kanade seems to be spacing off, suddenly looking a little numb. there was a bit of sadness in their eyes as they stared into the distance, but they slowly diverted their eyes on the ground on the left. today was kinda windy, so all clothes were moving to the direction of the air pressure. both of mika and kanade’s hair were flowing through the air. they soon made eye contact with mika. it was like nothing exists besides them.

“ …hey, mikarin.. can you promise that we’ll be close together forever..? ….for everything to be the same as always..? “ kanade asked to mika, mika was a little suprised by the sudden request. “ ..eh? kanade-chan, why are ya suddenly saying stuff like that..? “

“ … “ kanade looked away once again, there was a silence between them for a few seconds, before mika started speaking. “ …i dunno if we ar’ gonna stay together like this.. but.. ill do my best to keep this way! “ mika holds both of kanades hands again. “ c’mon! lets go talk a lil’ at my dorm! ritsu-kun wont mind. “ mika then walked with kanade to ensemble square. there was a slight smile on kanade’s face, before walking with him. ‘maybe it was jus’ my imagination..’

i'll be here with you. always and forever.

#tags: nyx's writing #tags: sewing and shopping #yumestars #selfship fanfic #selfship fic #selfshipping #yumeship #mika kagehira #kagehira mika #f/o x s/i #s/i x f/o #self insert #ensemble stars #tags: nyx's kanade

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soemthingsparkly · 5 months

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i would absolutely love to share a rant!

all the characters are so psychologically fucked up in such a realistic way that i didn't see represented much. grian venting to tango about feeling left out. the fact that he felt left out at all over something so small. they're so codependent and i love it.

and then there's scott and jimmy's dynamic. scott kissing jimmy and then jimmy venting to grian and then grian just responding with "HE DID WHAT??????" and then at the cafe. the idea of someone doing something they shouldn't have and then having a panic attack over a third party's opinion on it is so... idk how to say it. like i said, a type of fucked up that you don't see talked about much and i relate so hard to it. it's clear scott's probably trying his best out at least trying a lot to not hurt jimmy but he's failing miserably and i don't think he even realizes it. and like. yeah. ive been there. i don't actually know why scott broke up with him but i get the vibe it was supposed to be like. to help jimmy in some way. like "oh wait ive been toxic maybe i should end this for his sake". but doing that obviously hurt jimmy, especially since he didn't say *why* he did it. and scott obviously did something really drastic and sudden so he's not doing well either and he really wants to go back to jimmy. he knows he's being manipulative and it's not on purpose but in trying to stop and be better he keeps making things worse. and like. this is all a side thing. this fic is mostly about mumscarian and you threw in this flower husbands sideplot but it's still so fleshed out and so *real*.

and speaking of the mumscarian thing the way you write their friendships, especially grian and mumbo's is amazing. it's not like. a stepping stone to a romantic relationship even though they are going to end up in one. very "not more than friends, different from friends" vibes /vpos. it doesn't feel like they're ending up in a romantic relationship. it feels like they're making their relationship romantic and i love that so much.

grian just texting mumbo that he's bored gives such hcs7 vibes and like he yeah they're so codependent and it's so obvious from grian's side my god

and the way you write pearl is amazing, she's got this sibling energy and it's great.

the way you write all of them is amazing actually. i can hear everything they say in their voices. the clockers are on point, especially scar and bdubs.

i could keep going im sure lmao but anyway great fic i love it if you read this ill cry /pos

This has been sitting in my ask box for a while because I just love it so much anon and I was like~~~ how do I respond to such a long ask with the same level of enthusiam?

I wanna break this ask into chunks and there's bits of your ask I wanna respond to directly, so...

all the characters are so psychologically fucked up in such a realistic way that i didn't see represented much.

I'm glad you think so! I definitely feel like I'm being a little bit risky with how I'm presenting some of the, I suppose, human consequences of being human?

I think a lot of what fandom (in general) consumes gets a little over-sanitised these days. Our favourite characters aren't allowed to be flawed like real people, they must be flawed in a way that is either endearing, entertaining (sarcastic or snarky), or easily forgivable.

But that's not always that interesting when it comes to wanting characters we can truly relate to?

Grian gets upset he's left out not just because he has Trauma™, but because he does have a co-dependancy on Mumbo that borders on unhealthy. Tango tells Grian to, in not so many words, get over himself and try and have fun - not because he knew Grian would respond well to it, but because he's blunt and doesn't know how to comfort people gently. Bdubs makes fun of Scar for being disabled, because he knows that everybody in that group chat understands he's joking and that his comments will never leave that group chat (in-world that is, of course, everybody who reads the fic will read them).

And Scott for example, is not a very well-liked character amongst readers at the moment, but he's absolutely one of my favourite to write. You put it pretty well here:

he knows he's being manipulative and it's not on purpose but in trying to stop and be better he keeps making things worse.

Like yes, exactly. He's trying to do better, but the actions he takes that he thinks (or is being co-erced into believing via mental illness) will make things better, keep making things worse and he doesn't really understand how to do it right. And haven't we all been in that position before?

And yet up until chapter 17, we've only ever seen into their dynamic from the outside. We've only ever seen Scott's actions from Jimmy's POV or from the POV of someone who cares about Jimmy.

And somehow it's Jimmy, of all people, defending Scott.

It's absolutely fascinating to see readers reactions and I'd be so happy to talk about this forever and ever and ever, hehehe.

And what you said about Mumbo and Grian's relationship, here:

very "not more than friends, different from friends" vibes /vpos. it doesn't feel like they're ending up in a romantic relationship. it feels like they're making their relationship romantic and i love that so much.

I'm actually SO glad you feel that way about them, because that's exactly the way I feel about them, too. They're not just friends, so much as they're Grian and Mumbo. The idea of them being friends almost suggests an alternative of them being not friends and I just don't there's a way in this world that they can exist and be without one another. So yes, I love this a lot and I love that you feel that way about them.

Thank you so much for this absolutely beautiful message - I am such a fan of analysing characters and their interactions and all that. Frankly, thank you for giving me a space to talk at length about the way these characters are in this fic!!

Here is a tissue for the tears, I hope you don't cry too hard. Remember to stay hydrated <333

Lumi <3

#the hermit coffee co.#hcc Grian #hcc Mumbo #hcc Scott #hcc Tango #hcc discussion #lumi answers #hcc Bdubs

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nogenderbee · 2 years

Note

WAIT WAIT CAN YOY MAKE A FIC WHERE READER IS DOWN BAD FOR SHIZUKU (just like me fr 👊👊) AND SHIZUKU IS SO OBLIVPUS PLS PLS ILL KISS U

Oh my thank you for the kiss 🤭 And I really enjoyed writing it since I also simp for Shizuku a little <3 anyway enjoy!

Shizuku with admirer!reader

Is it small gesture, compliment or even eye contact from her way? It doesn't matter! You were screaming inside just when you breath the same air as her!

Shizuku was kind, caring, a little silly, pretty, in fact you could've talked about how amazing she is for hours! You knew she had a lot of admirers but you thought you still had a lot of chances since you're very good friends with her! Although you would much more prefer if she would be someone closer...

The day you learned that her favorite food are udon noodles and tofu skin is the day you started giving her AT LEAST one of them every day and gave them to Shizuku on lunch, and once you do, she always invited you to eat lunch with her or with her group. But if you go to different school, you still can give food to her before classes, in front of her school gate and she will invite you to hangout after classes as a "thank you" for your work. And that's what you did today

"Thank you so much YN, it's my favorite food! Would it be alright if I take you to this one cute penguin cafe? I've been there with my group and I think you might enjoy it!"

"As a friend meeting or... something more?"

"It can be something more!"

The moment you heard it, your heart fluttered but it didn't lasted long before some more words escaped her lips

"It can be best friends meeting! Is that alright?"

"I would prefer for it to be something even more... but that's alright too...!"

You wanted to suggest for it to be a date but you were afraid you're gonna ruin this beatiful smile Shizuku had on her face now that you adored so much.

On your hangout in cafe you looked at the menu and saw your chance that you decided to take, and it was your favorite flavored drink for two, if you ask her for it she MUST know that you want it to be a date, right?

"Shizuku, can we share this drink? It's offer for two!"

"Of course! It's so cute~ and you get figure after drinking it too! Are you penguin lover just like Haruka?"

"[insert your opinion on penguins here ^^]. But it's not why I asked! It's just... it's for pairs and since it's just the two of us I thought that maybe we could take it..."

"Ohh, I understand! It's really adorable sign of friendship! I'll ask my group to do the same next time! Or maybe even Shiho will agree~"

Again, Shizuku was very happy, and it put a smile on your face and you just didn't wanted to break it. But either way, you clearly enjoyed sharing drink with her, especially when you drinked at the same time!

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

#project sekai #colorful stage #project sekai colorful stage #x reader #project sekai x reader #colorful stage x reader #project sekai colorful stage x reader #shizuku hinomori #shizuku hinomori x reader #project sekai shizuku hinomori #project sekai shizuku x reader #fluff #oneshot #project sekai fluff #project sekai oneshot

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phantomphangphucker · 1 year

Text

Phic Phight - Sing-U-Lator

For: @thefalsefangirl @higgidigs @briarlovesu @bibliophilea @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

Song inspiration: Addict - Vivziepop and Alastor’s Reprise - Vivziepop Vlad and Danny have a proper talk but it's not really a talk or proper

Danny roughs up his hair, frustrated, why did Lancer always have give such open-ended ‘up to your imagination’ projects? Sure Danny didn't lack creativity but his creativity wasn’t exactly… normal. Plus, how was he supposed to make a song prompt without ripping off Ember? Sometimes being friends with a singer was a major double edge sword.

He’s half tempted to just call Vlad, dude gave some solid advice… even if it sometimes seemed slightly sketchy. What would he know about this though? Maybe he writes poetry in his rich person free time?

Thumping his head on his desk a couple of times, fuck it. Flipping out his phone and leaning back, “hey yo, Vladdie”.

“Daniel? Is there an issue. I am rather… preoccupied at the moment”.

Danny snorts at that, “I’d say with what but you're still all mysterious half the time. Anyways, my homework isn’t home working. Know anything to do with music?”.

“… I’m beginning to believe that you have a very concerning sense of timing, my boy. I’ve rather recently… acquired a seemingly ectoplasm infused music generating bow tie”.

Danny blinks hard at that, not for the first time since meeting the man, Danny’s had the feeling Vlad had sticky fingers or something. Sure, Danny also stole stuff… and maybe did so more now than he used to -which now that he thinks about it, might be ever so slightly due to some Vlad-related encouragement. But that’s a thought for another day- but Vlad was way more sticky fingered. “Why? Though I guess that could just make my music prompt for me”.

Danny jumps at a sudden voice, “that could be quiet a good idea. You are rather bad at this”.

Danny whirls around, “eh yo, what the fuck?!?”. It’s goddamn GhostWriter… Well at least it’s not Walker, or Boxy, or Skulker.

The GhostWriter seemingly ignores the teen, eyeing the paper instead, “you clearly have no love for the written word, as painful as that is, can’t have you embarrassing ghosts with your lack of lyrical diction”, summoning out his keyboard, fingers flying.

Danny groans loudly, “oh come on! Not this shit again”.

“Language, Daniel”.

The GhostWriter narrows his eyes at the phone, “and I would appreciate my artefact returned”.

And suddenly Danny gets hurtled out his window, half shrieking, “VLAAAAAAAD!”, angrily all the while. Granted… he couldn’t blame his -sometimes sketchy- mentor too much; Danny was usually the one who caused issues and Vlad certainly wasn’t immune to trouble making. Vlad yelping, “butter biscuits!”, on the other side of the line at least means this was probably going to be both of their problem(s).

The two halfas groan and push themselves up from the hard smooth ground.

So they weren’t outside on the dirt/grass. Good to know.

Danny grumbles, “I don’t know whether to blame you, blame GhostWriter, blame you, blame myself, blame you, or blame Lancer”.

Vlad giving a very dry reply, “funny, I was thinking something very similar”, then chuckling faintly, “perhaps halfas merely attract ill luck”, glancing around as he stands and brushes himself off, “we appear to be in some sort of cafe”.

“Ah fuck yes, tell me there’s coffee”.

“Language”, Vlad shakes his head, “you consume enough of that stuff to kill you a few times over”.

Danny snorts, “aw, you’d miss me”.

“But of course”. Vlad’s voice is genuinely fond, making Danny mutter, “I know it’s 🎶till death dooooo us part, but we're already past that phase🎶”.

Both of them stop at that, Danny looks insanely confused and slightly pissed off; Vlad quirks a single eyebrow. Quirking another eyebrow at the bow tie, which is apparently tied around his wrist now, as it starts making music, a electronic piano beat, “I don’t think this is going to end well”.

Danny grumbling, “sounds like the story of my half life. Shit always so seems to be going south since the whole dyin’ while tryin’ to be helpful thing”.

Vlad eyes him, “but 🎶this could be a brand neeeew start🎶”, grimacing a little after because seriously?

Danny huffing, yeah sure the whole dying thing really legit could have effectively given him a new ‘lease on life’ as it were, but instead he’s just spending all of his time fighting and anxiously hiding his shit. Even if he legit honestly likes the way he is now, he had cool powers and stuff. Grumbling, “tell me about it. 🎶I think I deserve some praise for the way that I ammmmmmmm🎶”, gesturing around a bit ridiculously because he might as well just go along with this and no one else was actually here from the looks of It to witness this bullshit. Being a ghost was fucking great okay? Regardless of his parents anti-ghost ectophobia bullshit.

Vlad glances around and shrugs, he’s been involved in stranger, sitting down in a random chair, “🎶despite becoming a ghost, and ending up nearly comatose🎶”; Vlad was still baffled by how severe Danny’s portal-related accident was. The fact that his body survived getting blasted by an entire dimension worth of ectoplasm and being electrocuted by over four lightening bolts worth of electricity was impressive and a bit horrifying.

Danny rolls his eyes at that, flicking his wrist pointedly at Vlad as the bow tie adds in fucking finger snapping to its tune, “🎶I don’t give a daaaaaaaamnnnnnn🎶”, eyeing Vlad with a bit of a smirk, “what about you?”.

Vlad snorts and stands up, “🎶I let my emotions go, and fudge being a sober hoe🎶”. Danny looks a little scandalised by Vlad’s almost swearing but takes the offered flasks because at this point, fuck it.

The GhostWriter is one hundred percent manipulating this into a musical or some shit, and no one wants to deal with that shit fully sober.

The two taking steps, gesturing, and dancing a little while their hands are almost connected due to holding the flask. Singing together, “🎶this is the maaaantra, this is the liiiiife🎶”. Regardless of anything Danny liked the way he was and he damn well knew Vlad did too.

Separating and twirling, still singing together, “🎶we’re playing with our lives noooooow, till the end of every niiiiiiiight 🎶”.

Vlad eyeing his flask, “🎶eventually surrounded by fiiiire🎶”.

Danny laughing, “🎶my fighting passion igniiiights🎶”.

The two eyeing each other and grinning a little, “🎶a hit of the heaven and hell, a helluva hiiiiigh🎶”. At this point they were in this shit together, even if Danny had a feeling that Vlad was a less than stellar influence, and Vlad knew that Danny might one day force him to reconcile with his ‘old friends’.

Vlad turning away, “🎶I’m addddddicted to the madddddness🎶”, he knew damn well all the crime and less than legal stuff he did was something he got a massive rush from, and what did he care if he screwed a few people over for his own personal gain?

Danny turning away as well, “🎶this tooooown is my atlaaaaantis🎶”, this town, Amity Park, was his Everything and he was protective as Hell of it. It was nice that a lot of the town was starting to actually view him as their protector, made him feel like his purpose was actually being seen.

Vlad chuckles, eyeing Danny quickly, “you do a lot of rather illegal things to protect ‘this town’, you know”. Danny chuckling right back, “as if you don’t do the same to satisfy your possessiveness”.

Danny puts up a fist for a fist bump and Vlad rolls his eyes though supplies him with his requested fist bump, the two singing together again, “🎶we’re forever gonna have a fucking/fudging reason to sin🎶”.

Vlad glares at him a little over the swearing but everything help him if he didn't already know that Danny had a bit of a foul mouth and that it was kind of pointless to correct the boy. Besides, Danny’s ‘soul’ or whatever was a lot cleaner than his own, “🎶let me leaaaaaave my soul to burn🎶”,

Danny pointing at him agressively, “🎶I’ll be breathin’ it in🎶”, then making a face, “I mean that your mentorship is actually kinda good, not that I’m going to literally breath in your burnt ashes, what the fuck GhostWriter”, and glares at the ceiling; faint ghostly laughter could be heard.

Vlad can’t help grinning at that a little, “🎶and I’m addiiiicted to that feeeeeeling🎶”.

Danny gesturing up, “🎶then get hiiiiiigher than the ceiiiiiling🎶”.

Vlad nods curtly, because as not harmful as this was, it was still annoying.

The Ghostwriters voice comes down from the ceiling, “🎶and I’m neeeever gonna want this feeling to end, just conceeeeede and give in to you inner demons again🎶”. Vlad fires a blast at the ceiling while the bow tie adds in a metallic drum beat for a bit before slowing to a more soft sound.

Danny eyes Vlad a little, “you know I know what you ‘inner demons’ are at this point, right? Your thing for mom?”, cringing and rubbing his neck, “and I mean sure, 🎶yeah, you fell in loooove. But-🎶”, gesturing at the flask, “🎶-you fell deeper in a piiit🎶”.

Vlad blinks, sure he knew Daniel would figure that out eventually but this was definitely not how he wanted that to come out. But what were ghosts if not their past regrets and obsessions? He couldn’t give up on her, not yet, maybe not ever. Throwing a hand out to the side and trying to hide that that comment hurt a little, “well 🎶Death didn’t get us aaabooove. So count your blessing because this is it🎶”, that came out more bitter than he really meant it.

Danny quirks an eyebrow at him and moving to get a bit in his face, “🎶sooooo you’re not letting goooOooOOOOoooOoo🎶?”.

Vlad shrugs, taking a swig from his flask and eyeing the musical bow tie with contempt, “🎶so what if I misbehave🎶”.

Danny huffing, crossing his arms, “🎶I guess it’s what everybody craves🎶”, then pointing at Vlad, “but, 🎶look around and you’ll already knooooOoOooOOOoow🎶”, pausing and rubbing his temples, “it ain’t gonna work out for you, you know”.

Vlad shrugs more vulnerably than he really means to, “I know, I really do. You think I can’t tell, Daniel? Meeting you and seeing them again makes that so clear. But-”, eyeing the boy, “-an apprentice changes a mentor as much as a mentor changes their apprentice”, holding out a hand, “🎶so, come if you’re feeling brave, and fancy yourself a mentor🎶”. Bow tie beat picking back up again.

Danny chuckles, okay Vlad’s thing for mom was weird and would never work out but if Vlad was content to redirect himself towards mentoring Danny himself then who was Danny to argue against that? Heck! It was probably a really good thing, plus Vlad was -maybe? Possibly?- morally questionable enough that he wouldn’t take Danny’s shit but also wouldn’t question him about being socially unacceptable. “🎶you want it, I got it. See what you liiiikeeeeEEEeeEe🎶”.

Vlad nods, when he first met Danny and realised what he was, a fellow halfa, it was just a maze of endless possibilities. When he realised that Daniel not only formed as a ghost at a far higher ectoplasmic level but also had more room for growth, he was amazing. Daniel could beat Pariah some day, if he tried. Having that boy as his was far too tempting and far more enticing than any amount of money or Maddie. Daniel could take the world if he wanted, and Vlad could guide that, could stand beside him, “🎶we could have it allllllllll, by the end of any niiight🎶”. If Daniel tried he could probably take over the entire Infinite Realm today if he so desired.

Danny snorts, waving him off, “I can’t tell if you mean this world or the afterlife. But here it would be, 🎶your money and power🎶 and in the ghost zone it would definitely be, 🎶my sinful deliiiight🎶”, chuckling, “you know how much a lot of ghosts hate me at this point”. Him chuckling again, “🎶I’mma hit of that heaven and hell, a helluva hiiiiiigh🎶”.

Vlad can’t help chuckling himself at that, Daniel had managed to piss of an impressive amount of ghosts in a very short amount of time, “🎶it’s like you’re addiiiiicted to the maaaadeness🎶”.

Danny waving him off, “🎶this tooooown will always be my atlaaaaantis🎶”.

Vlad ruffles up his hair, “🎶we’re forever gonna have a fudging reason to sin🎶”.

Danny collapsing over a table dramatically, “🎶let me leave my soul to burn, I’ll be breathing it in🎶”; which Vlad rolls his eyes at.

Vlad pokes the boys forehead, “🎶you’re addiiiicted to the feeeeeeling🎶”, Daniel was more combative than Vlad would actually like. Obviously he didn’t really have to worry about Daniel getting hurt but it really was like he was addicted to getting into fist fights sometimes.

Danny bats his finger/hand off, “have you seen the amount of ghosts that show up to cause problems? It’s a perfect excuse to 🎶get hiiigheeer than the ceeeiliing, and I’m never gonna want that fucking feeling to end🎶”.

Vlad sticks his hands out to the side, “🎶so you’ll just concede and give into your feelings again🎶?”.

Danny glares at him and pushes himself up from laying down on the table, “oh like you don’t constantly, 🎶concede and give into your inner demons again🎶”.

The two stare at each other for a bit, definitely recognising that they were both a bit fucked up and their mentorship/apprenticeship thing was extremely all kinds of fucked up. But neither of them could deny that it was good, they bounced off of each other and called out each others shit. They were both better for it. Vlad’s Obsession over Maddie had dwindled some and Danny had an actual adult to turn to. It was good, they both needed this more than either one was willing to admit.

Then the GhostWriter decides to be an asshole again, piping up from the ceiling again, “🎶you should never want this feeling to end. Just concede and give into your inner ghosts again🎶”.

Danny and Vlad both glare at the ceiling, Vlad firing off a pink ecto-blast for the point of it, the bow tie giving a more mellow beat in response like it was mad at them.

Danny eyeing Vlad, “you really have a problem with my mom, huh?”.

Vlad rubbing a hand down his face, “I used to think that if it wasn’t for my accident we would have wound up together but…”.

“Mom and dad love each other?”.

“Indeed. Though well, I am a ghost”, looking at Daniel, “you and I both know how hard letting go can be. It’s like 🎶I’m addiiiicted to the soooorrroooowww🎶”.

Danny nodding, leaning against one of the tables, “you'll get there, I think. But yeah, it’s like with all the fights I pick even, 🎶when the buzz ends by tomorrow🎶 and every fight after that, 🎶is another rush of poison flowing into my veins🎶”.

Vlad sighing, “giving both of us 🎶a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain🎶”, craning his neck, “🎶I’m addiiiicted🎶”.

Danny pushing himself up off the tables and gesturing agressively at the windows leading out to Amity Park, “🎶I’m deeepeendaaaant🎶”.

Vlad runs a hand through his hair, smiling a little, “🎶looking awwwwwwsome🎶”. While Daniel leans against the cafe/club window, “🎶feeling heeeelpleeess🎶”. Vlad glancing back at the teen and not for the first time realising that Daniel, maybe, wasn’t really okay… and honestly? Neither was he. Vlad sighing and walking over to the boy, “🎶I knooooooow I’m raising cain by every highway in hell🎶”, he was thinking that maybe he could move and become the mayor here, “🎶maybe things won’t be so terrible inside this home town🎶”; it would be good for Daniel and maybe it was a change that Vlad himself needed.

Danny jerks while the bow tie tune picks up again in a more fancy dancing manner, “you’re thinking of moving here?”. Vlad nods, so Danny continues, “I think that would be good, honestly. 🎶’cause we’re both one of a kind🎶”, Danny making a mocking gesture at him, “and I’m sure I can 🎶give a burning fool a place to dwell🎶”.

Vlad grabbing his hand an twirling him around ridiculously, “🎶and your ideals are just laughable, but hey kid what the Hell. We’re both charming ghost beaux🎶”.

Danny laughing and going along with the twirling, “🎶’cause inside of both of us is just a lost cause🎶”.

Vlad chuckling right back, “🎶but we’ll dress us up for now with a smile🎶”.

The GhostWriter adding in, “🎶a wicked smile🎶”, with an eerie laugh.

Vlad nods to himself, officially making his decision. This town could not survive with just Daniel and was definitely going to need someone with deep pockets who could manipulate the government into giving them money for all the insane damages. “🎶I’ll show these simpletons some proper class and styyyyyyleee🎶”.

Danny snorting, “🎶and I’ll chlorinate your closets with some punny flair🎶”. That feels ominous in Vlad’s opinion.

They nod at each other, speaking in unison, “🎶here in this spooooooooky town, we’re sure our plan is sound🎶”, both of them pointing up, “🎶and our little annoyance will be fooooouuuuund🎶”, which promptly results in the GhostWriter falling through the ceiling due to the songs/GhostWriters keyboards manipulation of reality, and the two halfas outright pounce on him.

His shriek is very girly and their maniacal laughs are very… maniacal.

Danny stuffing the ghost in his thermos and ‘Vlad’s’ artefact too for good measure after yanking it off the other man’s wrist. “So you’re really going to just, try to become mayor here and move?”.

“There’s not much else for me to do with my time and someone needs to keep an eye on you”, Vlad sighing, “and maybe being more exposed to the way Maddie really is will help things”.

Danny chuckles, “good vampiric mentor”.

“I will decide you need a lesson in endurance”.

“Oh be still my fucking tits!”.

“Daniel!”.

Danny just pouts exaggeratedly at him as they try to sneak out of the restaurant/cafe/club without being noticed. That predictably doesn’t go as planned, with Valerie poking her head around, “I have a lot of questions about that opera bullshit”. Oh Ancients, she saw that shit.

Vlad puts up his hands, “now Valerie-”. But Danny cuts him off, dramatically putting a hand to his chest, “are you cheating on me”; this situation was beyond un-fucking-salavagable. Making both his mentor and his friend/fellow ghost hunter look at him like they both bit lemons. Danny rolling his eyes, “what? The only reason for Vladdie to not be super freaked out is if Valerie here already knew about him and no way he would tell anyone other than an apprentice or maybe close friend”.

Vlad shrugs very awkwardly, “I’m not one to put all my eggs in one basket”. Both Valerie and Danny glare a bit murderously, before punching him in the face. Vlad just sighs, “I suppose I deserved that”.

Both of them snapping, “you think?!?”.

Valerie looking at Danny, “who did you even think got me into this?”.

Danny shrugs, “I thought you were just following spontaneous murderous desire all on your lonesome”.

“You’re a fucking idiot”.

Vlad sighing, “yes, and a fool that should dispose of a certain someone before he causes us any more issues”. Danny rolls his eyes, “at least I got help with my project out of this… kinda”, then actually moves to meander off like he’s told, shouting behind himself, “still good for training tonight?!”.

Vlad eyes Valerie, who shrugs, so Vlad shouts back, “as always, though you’ll have a sparring partner this time and finish that project first! I don’t want you wasting this evenings absolute mess!”. Danny holds up double thumbs up before tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground flat on his face.

Valerie facepalms, “what have I gotten myself into?”.

---

Mr. Lancer was later both very confused and impressed with the… odd direction of Daniel’s song prompt project. It was like one part theatrical musical, one part taking out some kind of issue(s) with song, and one part spite? It was creative though, which is what he asked for. Full marks and maybe a side note about seeing the school therapist.

End.

Prompts: Write a fic inspired from any song released in the last six years. and Danny has to go to Vlad for help and Lancer gives the class a project that Danny finds a very ghostly solution to. and Try as he might, Danny can’t think of a prompt for his creative writing homework. So Ghost Writer decides to step in, and do the writing for him. Shenanigans ensue. and AU where Vlad isn't blatantly evil in Bitter Reunions, and Danny initially sees no reason not to accept his mentorship and Vlad was starting to regret stealing his current artifact.

#Danny Phantom #phandom #phic phight #phic phight 2023 #danny #vlad #ghost writer #crack #singing #mentor vlad #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #gothmoth

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