#might put this on ao3 but idk what the title is so

[blutopaz15]

rayllum week 2023

prompt: flowers

rated t, 2k

He probably doesn’t remember, and honestly…it’s okay.

She doesn’t blame him.

She’d decided that this morning, after the toppled pile of books and the rushed apology she’d woken up to.

“Sorry, Rayla! And, uh…morning!”

Callum’s steps had stuttered towards her, and even with sleep crusties and too much sunlight in her eyes, she’d still gotten a little swoony over that dorky-cute smile flashed in her direction, the bedhead he hadn’t even sorted out yet, that over-eager enthusiasm all over his everything…but then he’d turned away instead of coming closer. He’d jumped right back into sorting the books that he and Kazi had clearly been pulling off the shelves for at least an hour or two already, and she couldn’t deny she’d been a little disappointed—

“This pile’s for Aaravos, that one’s for the coins, and…let’s start a Sky magic stack, just because.”

—but she really couldn’t begrudge him that.

There were plenty of more important things to worry about besides her birthday, after all.

Anyway, she’d only mentioned it…what? Once? When they’d been sleep-deprived on the back of that ambler, pretending like they were listening to each other’s answers to five-, then twenty-questions, rather than just staring at each other’s lips, hardly keeping from kissing again?

But then, he’d mentioned it once too, on the road back to the Nexus, wondering aloud if—

If they’d be back to Katolis in time for their birthdays.

Even if he does remember…nothing is just about what she deserves anyway, as far as birthdays with Callum go, Rayla resolves when the morning passes without a word about it.

She spends the day stewing like that—excusing herself when Callum’s dumb, adorable face makes the regret too much to handle, trying to distract herself with patrolling and target practice, avoiding the reproachful looks from Amaya she’s been getting since they’d gotten here yesterday that she knows she deserves but really, really doesn’t need.

It’s dusk when she heads back inside, but research stretches on until nightfall, and she spends the difference talking herself out of the downward spiral that’d convinced her Callum was too hurt still to even bring up birthdays, let alone have any interest in acknowledging hers. Her head stops spinning—finally—once she and Stella retreat to their little corner of the abandoned Bookery, though.

Judging by the height of the pile that Callum had stacked there beside his bedroll—Sky magic books, she guesses—he’s been busy…and that’s all the reassurance she needs.

He just…doesn’t realize it’s her birthday, she tells herself again, like she had this morning. Clearly, he just has—they just have—a lot going on.

With the moon new, it’s dark enough that even she strains and squints to read the spines of the books, wondering to herself as she looks at the stack if she should tell him or not.…until familiar footsteps bring some firelight to their little not-quite camp.

“You have quite a collection going here, mage,” she chuckles, kneeling by his books, the light letting her confirm that, yes, this whole pile was Callum’s personal Sky magic stack. “Think you might need to send a few of these home to—oh.”

…and she doesn’t need to tell him, apparently, if the fistful of flowers and the smile on his face mean what she thinks they mean.

“It’s your birthday,” Callum starts, setting down the lantern to free a hand to hold out…and she exhales.

She thinks she hides the tingling wave of calm that comes with Callum reaching for her and knows she hides the relieved tears that prickle—just a bit—in her eyes, easily blinking them away before she even puts her hand in his.

“It is,” she says, just a hint of a snicker in her answer. Rayla smiles as she leans into his warm steady hand to stand…and that’s almost familiar again—the brief shows of support, the fleeting moments of comfort, the gentle reminders that he’s there for her. She almost leaves her hand there, covered completely by his, her thumb drifting to his wrist…but lingering like that was uncertain territory still since she’d been back. She remembers how surprised he’d been at her head on his shoulder and how stiff he’d been the whole time on her shadowpaw…so she pulls away and points to the flowers in his other hand instead, each bloom the same vibrant red. “What are these?”

“Uh…orchids, I think?” He examines them himself, peering down at the little bouquet held between them then tilting them to her, holding them out til the soft petals brush her hand. “I guess Sunfire elves do a lot of flowers, so when I told Kazi I needed a gift for you…”

“You told them?” she asks, fingertips brushing his as she takes the flowers by the stems, knowing no one else would’ve had a reason to know about her birthday if Callum didn’t mention it, wondering if anyone else had known all day.

“Just them. I asked them to keep it to themself.” Callum explains, haste in his voice, and Rayla looks up from fiddling with a leaf, realizing that her doubt might have read as displeasure. “You were…quiet this morning, so I thought maybe that was best?”

“We’re busy,” she nods. That’d been the right move, she thinks, even if she’d spent the day assuming the worst, and she squashes the urge to touch him as extra assurance that he’d done the right thing. A big deal about her birthday after what she’d done to him on his, would’ve been…not great. Her eyes fall back to the flowers, and she shuffles her weight to her other foot. “Plus, everyone’s kind of very not happy with me so—”

Rayla stops when his hand slips into hers, lifting her head and finding Callum staring at her sweet and sincere as ever—

“I’m happy with you,” he says, eyes half-lidded, smile sideways.

He’s leaning in, she thinks, paralyzed in place, knowing her mouth is hanging open, knowing she’s looking at his lips…but then the sideways smile there breaks to a wide grin and he repeats himself, squeezing her hand tight enough to snap her out of it.

“And it’s your birthday!” Callum exclaims, and then—

He starts singing, with his own special…Callum-ness that she’s sure isn’t actually a part of the Katolis birthday song.

Right out the gate, she has to bite her lip to stifle her laughter down to a giggle at the silly, dumb dance moves he’s clearly just making up to make her smile, and she almost loses it at the dramatic flourish he adds to the third birthday. Too quickly, the song is over, though, and she’s about to teasingly clap for him—

—but then his lips are on her cheek.

It takes longer than she cares to admit for her to grasp that it’d just been the wishes and kisses and laughter and love he’d just sung about that’d made him kiss her, and she covers the spot where his lips had been in the meantime, not quite knowing what else to do. There was no point in hiding her wide eyes or flushed cheeks, obviously, she realizes, especially seeing how satisfied Callum seemed with her response to his little performance.

“That…that was the—”

“Katolis birthday song,” Callum nods, grinning, and takes the flowers from her hands, leaving them on a table before cheerily pulling her to a spot without books underfoot, “and there’s a dance I’m supposed to learn, right?”

…and her pounding heart falls.

“Callum—” she starts, the words in her letter as fresh as the night she’d written them—for the both of them, apparently—and she swallows thickly, reminded again of all it had—how she had—ruined between them.

Callum shakes his head before she can say more, though, eyes soft and reassuring, and—

—it’s…okay, apparently.

“We’re not missing any more birthdays, alright?” he says, more unbothered than she can understand, easily putting a stop to the spiral she’d spent the day on with a final squeeze before he drops her hands and gestures to the open space around them.

It just takes a blink and a breath, and she follows suit, moving forward.

“Okay, well,” she starts, looking around, considering where to begin. “It works better with more people, but—”

“I can go get the others if you want?” Callum asks with a shrug, a thumb pointed over his shoulder…and she shakes her head in immediate answer, uninterested in spending her birthday with anyone but him.

“No, no, just—uh…just us is fine.” Showing him is obviously the answer, so Rayla presses on his shoulders to switch their spots. “The birthday elf—uhh, person—is supposed to be in the middle, and you kind of dance around them, so…belated birthday dance to demonstrate?”

Her proposition comes with an apologetic smile—she’d meant to make it back to the castle in time for his 17th—and he nods, everything about his answer soft, silent forgiveness.

She spends her first round humming music she hasn’t heard in ages, the second naming the steps as she goes, the third telling him the counts.

By her fourth, she hardly even blushes when the chain of turns at the end of the dance brings them nose-to-nose, close enough to kiss, which was kind of the point when your lover was a part of the dance, but…

She shouldn’t…so she doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says as she comes in close again. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Yeah?” She grins at the head-rush of his breath on her cheek before smoothly spinning away…except that she can’t, because Callum’s caught her hands again and uses her momentum to take her place.

“Eh…mostly?” he shrugs, before drawing a dramatic breath and setting himself up like she had at the start, his leg outstretched at something like the angle she’d shown him. She counts while he copies her, his memory accurate…even if the execution is a little off.

Really, though, considering the swaying in place that Katolis called dancing she’d seen those couple of weeks in the castle…he does pretty great, she thinks, tickled at him so attentive to learning something so familiar to her.

He starts that last series of turns that she knows will bring him in close, and she knows she shouldn’t kiss him kiss him…but he’d gotten her cheek earlier, hadn’t he?

“You’ve got it,” she nods after her lips leave his soft face, stomach fluttering at finding him almost as surprised and flushed as she’d been, then moves on just as quickly as he had. “Then usually you do it again—it’s supposed to be eighteen times for an eighteenth birthday—but kind of…rotate around? If there’s more than one dancer, that is.”

“Eighteen Moonshadow Birthday Dances, coming right up!” Callum says, determinedly setting up for another round. The steps flow, one into the next, a little better this second time, and she tells him so as he starts spinning in towards her again…but he pouts in answer instead of giving her another melty smile like the first time. “What…no kiss this time?”

And no way was she going to pass up that invitation.

Of course, she appeases him before grinning and sending him on his way, singing the tune now—on to a third, and fourth, and fifth repetition—each finished with her lips pressed to his cheek.

By his eighteenth time through, he has the pattern down pat. He hums along with her, even, and, of course, finishes the turns with his beaming face tilted to the side, welcoming her kiss like she’d worried he never would again.

…and she wonders about that last wish she’d had for Callum’s fifteenth birthday.

He’s done dancing now, and still just as close, still reaching for her.

“Happy birthday,” he says, leaning in again…and she’s just as still and speechless as before.

Her eyes flutter, her tongue wets her lips, her breath falls on his cheek, and he crashes into her, his arms locked around her waist, his heartbeat against her chest—

…his hug warm and tight and close.

…and that’s okay too.

[ripcarrotchan]

taro buys jiro a weird-looking kitty plushie

(this is a scene from my fic about taro and jiro going to the park and jiro getting a plushie! ;;w;;)

[dnd-writes]

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Pt. 1

AO3

Tags: Non-con, this whole fic is just one whole degenerate lump of non-con, so warning all of you already at the beginning. BFH, very degenerate, unedited, Third-person PoV (cause easier that way), sex slave!Julie, sex slave!Natty, sex slave!Belle, sex slave!Haneul, sex slave!Kiss of Life, sexual slavery, sexual exploitation, contract manipulation, clothing control, slapping, punching, kicking, spitting, deflowering, anal deflowering, painal, dry vaginal sex, facefucking, cum on food, frozen dildos, I think that's all or most of it but you get the point

A/N: 1. First of all, thank you to @fillinforlater for the fic idea. Idk what the fuck happened, at first I was following the plot he laid out, then I changed this part, then I added this part, then this, then that, and I blink and all of a sudden I have this monstrosity of a fic 2. Fic has nothing to do with the song, just thought it would fit as a title 3. If anyone asks, for this fic I "changed the timeline" of KIOF's pre-debut stuff to essentially fit in June 2023, cause y'know, Haneul. 4. Part 1 cause Smite's prompt had a second part that I also want to write but it's gotten so long I decided to split the fic into two? parts.

It’s finally happened, she’s finally done it! After years of hardships and struggles Natty has finally achieved her goal of being in a K-pop girl group, the dream she once thought to be impossible now becoming a reality as she takes the pen and puts her signature down on the contract with tears filling her eyes. Some might call her crazy or an overreactor for bawling out but for someone who has gotten eliminated in the finals of not one but two survival shows, tears of joy sound like a reasonable reaction. 

Although Natty has already spent nearly a decade training, she is still looking forward to training more with her new groupmates. Even if it might take a decade more, as long as her dream comes alive, to her it’s all worth it. 

Natty expected to be surprised on her first day but she wasn’t ready to face what was in store for her. Having been a trainee for almost half her life, there’s no doubt that Natty has heard rumors about the industry, the drastic measures required to stay in form, the horrible things that happen away from prying eyes, the exploitation, the harassment. Though to her, they were all just rumors, just silly little things that people made up, little did she know that the rumors were just a teaser of what’s to come.

Natty goes through the front doors but instead of the vibrant and cheerful place she visited not long ago, the company now has a faint and eerie atmosphere. Lights are off, not a sign of any person in the immediate vicinity, it’s like the place never was alive to begin with. “Maybe I just came in at a wrong time,” she thinks as she navigates her way to her destination. Natty ascends to the fifth floor and as she makes it there, she hears subtle heavy breathing echoing along the halls. She decides not to get too curious and instead looks for the meeting place.

Natty stands just outside the door with a large smile prepared on her face, “This is it,” she tells herself as she gets ready to meet her new sisters. Her jolly expression quickly fades as she breaches the door, sitting inside are two of her three new groupmates. While very excited to finally meet them for the first time, what catches her attention the most are their outfits—both of them revealing way too much skin, a stark contrast to the jacket and jeans she has on. One of them is wearing booty shorts and a crop top cut short enough to barely cover her nipples and Natty notices that she doesn’t seem to have a bra underneath it. And all she can see on the other is a large red shirt barely making its way past her hips. 

Natty forces back a smile, trying to regain the excitement she previously had. There’s just four seats in the middle of the room all facing each other and Natty takes one of the two empty ones. It was awkward at first but the tension slowly dissipated as the three began talking, though a sense of eeriness still lingers behind. They start off introducing themselves to each other and Natty quickly learns that it’s Haneul who is wearing the crop top and Belle is the one wearing the red shirt. Once they got the awkward introductions out of the way, they proceeded to talk about random things. They start to talk about their lives now, their lives as trainees in previous companies, how the two knew of Natty in her time in survival shows. Although, every time Natty would try to talk about their outfits, they would pause and take a deep breath but then they would either play it off as if it was a normal thing or just change the subject entirely.

With no obstructions between them, Natty can’t help but notice some details with their apparent choices of clothing. Natty doesn’t know if she’s just imagining it but when she looks at Haneul’s crop top, she swears she can see a hint of darkness which she can only guess to be are areolas. Then there’s Belle who is sitting in the chair across from her, her short red shirt hikes even higher up her body while she sits down and Natty can see, clear as day, Belle’s pussy just hanging in the breeze. Natty tries to ask her about it but Belle just looks at her as if she was a crazy person.

Eventually the last member arrives, Natty somewhat expected her to also be similarly dressed which she is but the state she came into the room in was what shocked her the most. The last member arrives wearing a yellow sundress though from the looks of it, it might be a size or two too small. As she stands there trying to introduce herself to Natty, she keeps on adjusting her dress, struggling between pulling it over her chest or pulling it below her hips. But her attire is the least alarming part, her hair is all frizzled, her lipstick is smeared, and there’s drops of liquid dripping from between her legs. Natty forces another smile as all four of them start to talk together. The mystery girl introduces herself as Julie, their new leader. Julie takes the remaining seat and, similar to Belle, her dress hikes up, even higher compared to Belle’s shirt, and Julie’s pussy is visible to everyone. No one comments on it but Natty quickly sees that a pool of white is forming between Julie’s legs and it seems to come from her pussy and her butt.

Natty was right in that her first day would be full of surprises, though she did not expect to be such horrible and gut wrenching surprises. On her way home, she starts to recall the rumors she has heard over the years and after thinking back to what she saw earlier, they’re starting to become less like rumors and more like the harsh reality of the industry. But Natty brushes the thoughts aside, thinking to herself that her dream of being part of a K-pop group is being fulfilled and if it means even worse and troubling obstacles, then she will just overcome them too. She has had years of training, what’s a questionable dress code compared to that?

The next day arrives and Natty tries to remain optimistic, wearing another bright smile as she enters the practice room, though just like the day before it quickly drops. There’s a fifth person joining them that day and Natty can only assume he’s their choreographer only except he’s wearing nothing but shorts. While his toned body is in no doubt hot and amazing, given the situation and the very very prominent tent he’s sporting, Natty is deeply disturbed.

She says hi to him and then at her group mates who she has just noticed are still wearing the same outfits as the day before albeit with some slight changes—Haneul’s isn’t even covering her chest anymore, just dangling like a necklace above her shoulders; Belle’s red shirt has streaks of white all over the front; and Julie’s dress has a rip at the top as if her breasts were breaking free. Natty couldn’t even find the time to feel sorry for them as the man starts to talk to her as she comes in. “Hey, you’re the new girl right? What are you wearing?”

Natty stands frozen in place. She hasn’t gotten any sort of instructions or clothing to wear. Has she missed something? 

The man carries some papers over to her. “Did you not read this?” Natty recognizes the papers he’s holding, it’s the contract she signed. He flips through the pages and gives it to her, “See? Right here.” He points at the clause labeled “Attire” and Natty reads through the fine print. “In the company, the members should wear what is given to them or any clothing that they have. Provided that their tops have sleeves not longer than 10 cm and bottoms not longer than 20 cm.” With just her luck, she’s wearing a sweater and jeans that day. Natty couldn’t believe this, she remembers reading every detail of the contract but not once has she seen this. Natty continues to read the page and the next clause is labeled “Sex.” It reads, “The members cannot object to their bodies being touched or used by the employees of S2 Entertainment. The members must follow every order given to them, whether they are willing to do so or not. If the task is impossible to do, the members must accomplish it to the best of their ability. None of this can be mentioned to anyone outside of S2 Entertainment.” Natty could not believe her eyes, such inhuman clauses on her own contract. She hastily checks the last page and there sits her signature, bright as day. She looks at the others in disbelief but they can only stare right back at her with empty expressions.

The man grabs the papers back. “Well? The clothes we have are still in the laundry, so unless you have spare clothes with you or something, the only solution is to undress.” Natty looks at the others again for help but they just shake their heads and Julie mouths “Sorry” to her. “Are you going to do something about it or do you want me to take care of it?” Driven by fear of getting manhandled, Natty turns around and rushes to take her clothes off. Even with her back to everyone, she can feel the stares stabbing into her back. She feels so sick and dirty as she takes her sweater off and as she shimmies her pants off of her hips, she doesn’t realize she was involuntarily shaking her ass for everyone not until the man squeezes her butt.

Natty shivers in the cold room but it pales in comparison to being just in her underwear. Though it’s just the choreographer she has to be worried about, the lustful stare he gives her is enough to make her cry. Julie tries to console Natty but not a second later Natty hears a slap echo in the room, she looks up to see the choreographer in front of Julie who’s holding the side of her face.

The rest of the day goes pretty ok given the circumstances, mostly just going over the song and the choreography that went along with it, though their instructor occasionally helped himself to cop a feel while teaching and he seemed to be most interested in Natty, always focusing on her mistakes, groping and feeling every inch of her body as he “teaches” the dance.

The next day, Natty moves into the group’s dorm. “This time, it will be better,” she tells herself, maintaining that bright and optimistic perspective on life. She hopes that in the dorm it will be much funner and freeing, just her and her group mates living together and hanging out all the time. 

She opens the door and peers inside, to her surprise it’s really clean and quiet. Although she’s been very optimistic about things, deep down she was expecting similar horrors to what she has seen the previous days and seeing such a pristine and spacious living space is enough of a relief for her. After bringing her things through the door, Natty explores the place. In the living room there’s a huge flatscreen TV and a couch big enough to fit more than four people, and in the kitchen there’s lots of space available and a big fridge. Natty checks the fridge and salivates seeing lots of veggies and drinks inside, then she checks the freezer and almost falls to her knees from hunger seeing all the meat. Natty was about to slam the door shut when she notices a red dildo slightly hidden in one of the layers, she gives it a touch and confirms that it is ice cold. She blushes slightly, thinking that one of her group mates is kinky like that.

Natty hops over to the rooms, excited to see what those are like after seeing how extravagant the common areas are. She first checks on the room to the right, as she goes in she’s met with a very odd-looking room, half is very bland and empty while the other half is very decorated. “This must be my side,” she whispers while looking at the empty space. Over in the decorated half she sees Haneul fast asleep in her bed, seeing her wearing pajamas and not some skimpy outfit brings a smile to her face.

Natty closes the door gently as she makes her way to the next room. She barges through the door and immediately regrets it, the dorm which she expected to be their “safe space” away from the shit they have to go through at the company, turns out to just be an elegant looking prison. Natty was so happy about the place but unfortunately, it was too good to be true.

Natty sees three people all in one bed. Nearest to her is Belle, lying on her back and sobbing into her hands while a red dildo is shoved in her ass. Next to her is Julie and some man relentlessly pounding into her from behind. Only the man reacts to Natty’s arrival, looking over his shoulder to smile at Natty, it’s a different man, one Natty hasn’t met before. “Hi, Natty… I’m your… manager… Will you be a good girl and… pull that out of Belle?”

Natty should feel offended by such a crude question but after a week of “training,” she’s gotten to know better. Disgusted and disturbed yet Natty still drags her feet across the floor towards the three of them. “Just pull it out but do it slowly, don’t want to hurt her… even more,” he quickly adds the last part, chuckling as he does so, clearly enjoying himself at the expense of Julie’s and Belle’s pain. 

Natty glances at Belle, her face hidden in her hands, her body red and blue all over, her ass adorned with a bright red toy. She touches the base and immediately recalls her hand, it’s cold, ice cold. Natty considers herself a fool for even thinking for a moment that the freezer dildo was a kink thing, perhaps it might, but not for the person she thought it to be.

Belle’s quiet sobs turn to whines as Natty starts pulling the dildo out, the sound alone is enough to bring tears to Natty’s eyes, knowing that even though she’s helping, she’s still causing some pain. Natty continues to pull but at her slow pace it feels like it would take forever, she doesn’t even know how long the dildo is and as more inches get pulled out, the more worried she gets knowing how far it was in Belle and how much it could have hurt. 

Finally she pulls the thing out which calms Belle, her asshole closes back up, her body relaxes, and her cries die down. Natty looks at the dildo in her hand, the thing is almost as long as her forearm, she quickly throws it away and out of her sight.

Their manager turns to see that Natty has done what he requested, he gives Belle a slap on the ass and then Natty a pat on the head. “Oh nice… you’re a good girl... Natty… So here’s… your reward…” Before Natty could process anything he said or did, she feels her hair being yanked and her face quickly diving towards the bed. He makes her face to the side and starts to paint Natty in his cum. She hasn’t felt cum yet, let alone seen a dick in person, but the warmth and stench it leaves is enough for her to hate it.

“Wake Haneul up and have her clean you up, or you could just drink it all yourself, I wouldn’t mind. Just make sure to record, ok? When you’re done, Natty, meet me in my room, it’s at the end of the hall.”

And just like that he leaves, satisfied and so full of himself, while the three girls lay exhausted and broken.

Julie is the first one to recover among the three of them. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll go get Haneul, he hates waiting too long.” Before Julie can step away, Natty grabs her wrist. “N-No! I’ll do it. I’ll… try to do it.”

“You sure? Alright then. My advice is just do it quickly. Hwaiting.” Julie flashes a weak smile and raises her fist for encouragement and Natty reciprocates the action. 

Julie takes her phone and starts recording. Natty sits at the edge of the bed with Belle just slightly out of the shot. Natty scoops up all the cum on the side of her face, just doing so disgusts her immensely. With most of the white liquid in her palm, she puts everything in her mouth and gulps it all down. For a second all is well but the aftertaste hits her like a truck and she starts coughing again and again. She expected to hate it but it was beyond awful. Only when Natty calms down does Julie stop recording.

“Go to his room, it’s on the left. I’ll just put this back in the freezer,” says Julie as she picks up the dildo from the floor.

“He hates waiting.” Natty repeats, with no time to rest, she gets to her feet and moves to the manager’s room. Natty’s hand reaches for the doorknob but she stops herself before she can even touch it. This time around she opts to knock instead of just barging in. “Come in,” says the voice from the other side. Natty enters the room, it looks much bigger and more grand than the other rooms, a bigger bed, a TV, a mini-fridge, it was practically its own apartment. “So nice of you to knock, you’re still dressed but that’s an easy fix.” 

She notices him ruffling through some stuff in his drawer, she tries to take a peek but he closes it before she can see what was inside. In his hands are a remote and a collar with her name on it. “We just met a few minutes ago but I think you’re my favorite already.” He puts the collar on her, tightening it so it fits exactly around her neck. “Whenever you’re here at the dorm, you have to wear this, ok? And everytime I press this button.” He raises the remote and clicks it, sending a small stinging sensation to Natty’s neck. “You have to come to me. It’s only at one right now but if you’re not here within five minutes of me clicking it, it goes up by one, permanently.” Natty gulps but with the collar snug around her neck, it made it a little uncomfortable. 

“Ok so where’s the video?”

“Ah, Ju-”

As her name is mentioned, Julie barges into the room, phone outstretched with the video ready to play.

“Ah, there it is. Thank you, Julie.” Julie hands her phone over and stands in place, like a robot waiting for her next command. “Aww, look at Belle sleeping so peacefully. Oh wonderful, drinking it all by yourself. See, I knew you would be my favorite.” He hands the phone back to Julie and she starts to leave but before she makes it out he issues one final order for her. “Julie, be a dear and get Haneul. She’s been sleeping all day, I haven’t had my fun with her yet. Actually, you know what? Now that Natty’s here, just get everyone.”

With just the two of them left in the room, he walks over to Natty. Seeing his erect dick twitching so much causes her to involuntarily step backwards and his brows suddenly furrow. “Now, now, Natty.” The sudden change in his tone and expression is enough to strike fear in her heart, afraid of a punishment she puts her foot back to its original spot causing his smile to return. 

“Sweaters. Always so annoying, I heard you’re huge but I can’t really tell with that stupid thing hiding your tits. From now on in the dorm, Natty, only wear tight tops. Oh, better yet, no tops at all. The only thing I want to see you wearing above your hips is that collar.” 

Instantly Natty’s hands start to move, getting rid of any clothing on her torso as soon as the new rule is implemented. She can see it in his eyes, hunger ever growing with each article of clothing she removes. As soon as her shirt comes off, he starts salivating. “My, oh my, you’re huge. Looks like Julie’s got competition.” Natty reaches behind herself to unhook her bra but pauses for a moment, she realizes this is the first time she would show her breasts to anyone, many have touched and played with them at the company but not one has unveiled her boobs. As her bra falls, his dick twitches in excitement. 

The rest of the group arrives. Belle is the first to enter, her legs very tired and her ass still very sore. Next comes Haneul, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Last is Julie, her head held high and her face serious, looking like a guard rounding up the inmates although she isn’t any less of a prisoner compared to the other girls in the room. The four just stand in silence like mannequins and their manager walks around and gropes whatever he pleases as if doing some inspection. 

“Haneul… what did we say?” says the manager very disappointedly. His tone shocks her awake, “I-I’m sorry,” she bows then starts getting out of her clothes. He scoots over to her and slaps her in the face. “I’ll let you off easy this time since Natty’s finally here but I’m doubling the next punishment.”

After Haneul, he moves over to Belle, whose legs are barely keeping her standing. “You cross me again, I’ll make sure you won’t even be able to walk for the rest of the day.” He punches Belle and she easily drops to the ground sobbing, he kicks her while she’s down to add insult to injury. Natty can only shiver upon hearing everything happen behind her, does she even want to know what Belle did to make him so mad?

He moves over to Julie and the first thing he does is spit on her face then he uses his fingers to smear it all over. Julie keeps her composure, just closing her eyes as he plays with her face, not flinching or whining at all. “You should thank Natty for being here, ‘cause you’ll finally have some time to rest.” His hands cup her breasts, giving them a proper feel before he moves on to a bigger and better pair. 

Finally he comes back around to Natty, the only person in the room with any piece of clothing still on. “Tell me, Natty… Have you fucked before?” Natty gulps again knowing the implications, though it was bound to happen eventually. She shakes her head and he smiles. “Oh, a virgin? So many people in that building and not one has fucked you? Well their loss, we’re gonna have so much fun together.”

“Change of plans girls, looks like I need some ‘catching up’ to do with Natty. Go do whatever you want for now, we’ll be here for a full day or two.” 

But just before he dismisses them, he goes back to Belle, still on the ground holding her side. He spits on her face too but this time he uses his foot to smear her face. “Don’t think I’m done with you just yet. Be ready for your final ‘lesson’ when I’m done with Natty. Now go, all three of you, leave.”

It’s wicked really, how sick and twisted all of this is, all the expectations Natty had, completely flipped around. Shining eyes looking up to her turns out to be lustful stares looking down, helping hands turn out to be forceful gropes, and managers turn out to be owners. Natty looks over her shoulder with tears starting to form in her eyes, though her hands remain still, her stare acts like a hand reaching out to save her from the depths of hell but alas, all Haneul and Julie could do is return similar sad gestures as they carry Belle away.

The manager locks the door as the three leave and immediately gets back to Natty, even with all the time in the world at his disposal, he wouldn’t want to waste a single second. With the rest of the group gone, Natty feels even more miniscule and useless, even more of a toy as his gaze is solely on her. He comes up behind her and fills his hands with her tits, with Julie’s he can still grasp the whole thing in his hands but Natty’s can barely be fully contained. He starts to fondle and play with her nipples while slowly moving his mouth closer to her neck.

Natty easily starts to moan loudly, she wants to keep quiet to avoid giving him that pleasure but her complete lack of experience and the resulting lack of tolerance betrays her. He sniffs along her neck, “You smell so good and your tits… so fucking soft.” He finds a patch of skin along the front of her neck and starts to kiss and suckle on it, Natty explodes into a moaning mess, shouting in pleasure as if she’s having the time of her life.

The pleasure gets cut short as his hands move down to her waist. “Sweatpants… another cock blocker. From now on, just don’t wear anything, Natty. Your body is so hot and irresistible, wouldn’t want any clothes hiding your beauty. Don’t worry about getting cold, just come to me and you’ll be warmed up in no time.” His fingers slip into the waistbands and he slides both her underwear and her sweatpants down to the ground. He’s the first one to see her tits and now he’s also the first one to see her bare ass and pussy. As much as she doesn't want to think about it, he probably will be the first dick she takes in every hole.

The manager circles Natty slack-jawed and wide-eyed as if admiring a sculpture he has just made. “Fat ass, soft and heavy tits, pretty face. You’re just the perfect little toy, aren’t you? And a virgin too, just the absolute best, if I could I would just own you forever but sadly I’ve got a job to do. Although… maybe I can have you be my roommate instead of Haneul’s, that’s probably the closest I’ll get.” He leans down and frowns at what he sees. “Unshaved, unfortunate, guess you can’t have absolutely everything but it’ll do. First thing I want you to do when you’re out of this room is get that shaved, got it?” Natty’s been unmoving and frozen in place for so long that it takes her a second before nodding her head.

The manager pushes Natty onto the bed then flips her to face him. Her full body is on display for him, each delicacy just sitting idle like food in a buffet, up for grabs at any time. He licks his lips as he considers his options. 

“Two virgin holes, which to try first? The other three bitches came here already used, so this will be a first for you and me.” He slaps his dick against her pussy, grinding on it and feeling the slight hint of wetness it’s giving off. Next he considers her asshole, very puckered and looking very small compared to the head of his cock as he pokes her with it. He licks a finger and prods inside, the way his finger barely pushes through excites him and the way Natty winces seals the deal for him. 

He lifts Natty’s legs up and hooks them over his shoulders, giving him a perfect angle to ravage her ass. He lines himself up and slowly pushes his way in, not even bothering to spread her cheeks to mitigate the tightness. Natty is already breathing heavily as she feels her asshole stretching to accommodate him. “Please,” she begs. “It… It won’t fit.”

He just smiles and caresses her cheek. “That’s the fun part, a tiny virgin asshole broken open by my cock. I’m gonna remember this forever.”

As soon as Natty’s sphincter spreads wide enough for his girth, he shoves the whole thing inside. “AHHHH!!! TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!” Natty fires a blood-curdling scream as his cock swiftly overwhelms her. It hurt for him too given how dry her butt is but only barely, plus her cries only work to alleviate him. 

He locks her legs in his arms and her hips in his hands to keep her from moving. Her hands might be free but Natty doesn’t have the strength or the courage to lift them up. Her ass feels like it’s on fire from the dry friction between the two of them. To her, it’s like hell. To him, the fire feels like an invigorating force. 

Her anal walls hug him so tightly, it’s like Natty’s ass is begging him to fill her up and who is he to turn down such a request. Her ass is so tight, it’s practically milking him dry, any tighter and he might not be able to pull out. In just a few minutes he starts to orgasm, the hardest and fastest one he’s had with any of the four girls. He pulls out and scrambles to find his phone, wanting to cherish this moment forever. “Second load of cum and many more to go. You’re gonna be such a wonderful cum bucket, Natty, milking me everyday. You’re going to love my cum and my dick in no time.”

Natty tries to stand, to do something, anything, but her body is just worn out already, completely exhausted, completely given up. The manager, on the other hand, is the exact opposite, even after tearing Natty’s asshole apart, he’s still hard and ready for another round. This time he has his eyes set on her cherished virginity. 

He hooks her legs back onto his shoulders but this time he carries her then pins her to the wall with her wrists bound by his hand above her head. While flexibility isn’t a problem for Natty, she is now face to face with her assaulter. She closes her eyes and looks away but that doesn’t stop her from feeling his hot breath on her face. His tongue pokes out and licks along her cheek, tasting her tears and her sweat, he leaves a trail of his saliva as he travels from her jaw to her ear. “So salty, so delicious. Everything about you is so delicious, you know that? Now I’m gonna enjoy fucking your pussy, I’m gonna see just how tight you fucking are.”

Tears fall nonstop from her eyes. Natty’s sobbing grows strong as she feels his heat pressing against hers. She so badly wants to beg him to stop, to let her rest, but her voice can’t manage to form words and she knows he wouldn’t listen anyway. 

He lines himself up with her folds and in one swift motion, he pistons his cock inside. “AHHHH!!! FUCK! PLEASE!!!” her voice only manages to come back during moments of intense pain. “Oh, Natty, your cunt. Fuuuuuuck, that’s the best pussy ever.” Her pussy is heavenly, it’s so tight that it’s almost orgasmic when he penetrates her. He just loves the way Natty squeezes around him. He also loves hearing her cry out in pain, to him it’s like a choir of angels. He relishes in the feeling of Natty’s pussy, living in his own twisted version of heaven.

As he pounds into her from below, Natty’s tits bounce freely in front of him and he doesn’t waste a second as his mouth latches onto her chest, after all, a little side dish won’t hurt while he enjoys the main meal. He bites her nipples, pulling and squeezing them with his teeth, only adding more pain to what Natty is already experiencing.

The two of them fucked endlessly in that locked room while the other three finally got some rest, though they couldn’t quite live in blissful harmony as Natty’s screaming kept them aware of their situation, the walls were thin enough to let Natty’s wails of terror flood the whole dorm. While the other three girls were able to sleep through it, in the morning they still heard Natty screaming and begging, though her voice much weaker and hoarser. 

There’s just so much to do with Natty, just pure lust and adrenaline fueling the manager all throughout the night. All the positions he could take her in, all the things he can do, all the possibilities, everything that Natty’s body can offer, he takes. He fucked her all over the room, didn’t even matter how or where, he just slams her down somewhere and fucks her in whatever hole he felt fit. He fucked her face against the wall, then fucked her ass while he pressed her face onto the floor, then fucked her pussy while missionary on the floor, then fucked her ass doggystyle on the bed, then fucked her face while her head hung off the bed, then fucked her ass in the shower. Just so much cum in and on her body in the span of a couple of hours and yet he is still going strong.

The next day comes around and there doesn’t seem to be any lapse in their action. Stretching from before the rise of the sun all the way to after it set, just endless screaming of pure pain and agony coming from Natty. The only time the manager interacted with the rest of the girls was when he asked Julie to cook up a meal for them. The door finally opened again for the first time in two days as Julie brought her cooking.

“Ah, pork belly, I’m starving. Thank you so much, Julie. I see you’ve gotten comfortable without me pestering you all the time,” he says as he sees Julie wearing some pajamas. “Oh, two plates? We won’t be needing that,” he chuckles as he returns the second set of utensils as well. Just before the door closes, Julie takes a peek over his shoulder and sees Natty practically lifeless on the floor. The manager gives Julie a quick smile, proud of his own work, then locks the door.

The manager walks over to the bed and nudges Natty with his foot before getting himself comfortable. Natty, almost void of all energy, springs to life as she smells the delicious food. Natty sits patiently, silently jealous as she stares at her manager eating all by himself. He points to his dick and Natty can only sigh as she lowers her face in front of it. 

The manager puts his hand on the back of her head and Natty opens her mouth, but instead of pushing down he says, “Let’s play a game, Natty. If you make me cum before I finish the food, you can have the rest of it.”

Natty doesn’t exactly have much knowledge on how to pleasure a dick, her only experience being the one dick that’s been forced in her body the past two days. She’s already come to terms with the fact that she might not eat for two days straight but regardless she tries her best. 

Natty employs the small pieces of advice she’s heard him tell her. Even though she’s basically just moving her head along his length, judging from his moans he seems to be enjoying it so she goes faster. 

“Fuck, Natty. Fuck… I’m gonna cum…” He takes over this time, gripping the back of her head as she immediately chokes. “Don’t… swallow it, fuck.” He struggles to squeeze his words out of his mouth as another orgasm makes its way into Natty’s mouth, only this time around it pools on her tongue. She already hates cum to begin with, cringing inside whenever she would taste it but with a whole load lingering in her mouth, revolting is an understatement. She struggles to hold it all in, not just because of the taste but also because of how much he gave her, her cheeks are full and just a little more it would probably overflow. 

He holds the plate of what’s about a quarter of the total meat still left on it. “Spit,” he commands and without hesitation she opens her mouth and deposits the batch onto the plate. “Go on, everything, spit into it.” She does as ordered, mixing the remnants with saliva and spitting onto the food. He spits onto the plate as well and mixes the meat with the “sauce” then puts it on the other side of the bed from her. “Go eat.”

Natty tries to get up and walk to the other side but the manager has other plans. He grabs her hair again and pulls her across the bed, forcing her to kneel down. “Come on, eat up.” He moves over behind her and lines up with her pussy. “Don’t waste anything, when you’re done I want that plate clean.” Natty stares at the disgusting abomination in front of her and she feels even more disgusted and degraded knowing that even when it comes to food she’s being treated like a dog. Her stomach gurgles, no matter how disgusting the food may be, she still has to eat. Natty tries to look at the brighter side of things, at the very least she’s eating actual food and not some slop that looks inedible. 

On the third day of her imprisonment, Natty is completely exhausted and broken. She just lies on her back, barely even reacting to anything her manager does anymore, there’s cum on almost every inch of her body and yet she doesn’t bother to clean it. 

Julie knocks to bring them breakfast, the manager gets the door but instead of just taking the food he tells Julie to give it to Natty. “She’s not fun anymore so I’ll be going back to you guys. And besides, the company is looking for her, can’t have her here forever.” As soon as the manager leaves, Julie rushes over to Natty and tends to her. 

The manager, clearly unsatisfied with Natty’s unresponsiveness and clearly needing a release, turns to Belle for release.

“AHHH!!! Wait, no, please… I’m sorry.” He barges into her room and she immediately shrieks upon seeing him. In the short span of two days, she’s gotten used to not being around him but here he is to remind her of her place. “I promise I won’t do it again, I—” She tries to get away but she’s stuck in the corner and all she can do is sink herself further into it. He doesn’t stop or even think for a second about what he’s doing, he just walks up and punches her face, adding another bruise to the multiple he’s given her. 

“Haneul? Get in here!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. While waiting, he pulls Belle’s face to the edge of the bed and starts facefucking her, all the while alternating between slapping her tits and punching her pussy. 

“Haneul?!” he calls again after a few minutes. After cumming down Belle’s throat and Haneul still hasn’t arrived, he marches over to her room. Not really to his surprise, he finds Haneul sleeping soundly in her bed. For one second he smiles, admiring her beauty before proceeding to ruin it. 

He punches her which brings her wide awake. He tugs her hair to bring her face close to his. “Always sleeping, you lazy cunt. Maybe you need a lesson too.” Haneul screams and thrashes as she’s dragged across the floor by her hair towards Belle’s room.

The next few days and weeks go by with the members somewhat getting used to and coping with the treatment that they are going through. Lots of practicing and “training” happens at the company, mostly the latter, then their manager has fun with them at the dorm. At the very least their manager is kind, all things considered, just as long as they follow his orders, so they still get to somewhat relax at the dorm. And whenever no one is using their bodies, the girls hang out, talk with each other, and comfort each other, growing a bond and giving each other hope to carry on until they debut.

The month ends and it’s finally time for Kiss of Life to debut. The four are no doubt incredibly excited, they finally get to wear clothes that cover most of their body, finally have some time away from the perverts, and most of all, they finally get to debut and live out their dreams of being K-pop idols, though little do they know what their company still has in store for them, even in public view.

A/N 2: So if you made it here, congratulations, you're as much of a degenerate as I am :). Anyway, while part 1 is mostly focused on Natty, part 2 would likely be four "mini-fics" in one, each focusing on one member. Subject to change but most likely it would be like that

[half-bakedboy]

hi! i have new obsession with bucktommy. since youre taking prompts, what about “You are my family”? maybe after they have been dating for a while? idk you decide

Tommy had planned to spend the better part of his day waiting in line to donate blood. He intended to go alone, but it’s not often that their off-days coincide so fully, so Evan gave him no choice but the company—which Tommy would never say no to anyway. Tommy’s known for a while now that he would spend every second outside of work with Evan if he could. 

“Tommy?” He brings his attention away from how in love he is with his boyfriend, and back to the check-in worker asking him important questions. 

“Hmm?” 

“Closest family member?” she asks. 

“Evan Buckley,” Tommy answers easily. 

He feels Evan freeze beside him, a choked exhale that he covers with a cough. Evan shakes off Tommy’s attempt to ask him what’s wrong, so Tommy figures it’s just the nerves of giving blood for the first time in a while. 

He continues answering the check-in worker's questions, more in tune with the uncharacteristic rigidity of his boyfriend. Evan’s usually bouncing a knee or playing with his fingers, but he’s been staring at his phone screen even though Tommy’s almost positive he hasn’t scrolled in at least a few questions. 

“Alright, you both can get seated down that way and one of the nurses will be there shortly!” 

Tommy starts to move toward the waiting area, but after only a few feet of walking, Evan tugs Tommy’s hand to stop him from moving any further. When Tommy turns around, Evan is staring at him, eyes wide and inquisitive. 

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks. “You can’t be that nervous about giving blood, can you? You’ve done this before!” Tommy reassures him, but Evan looks like he’s trying to calculate how much longer it’ll be until he can run. Tommy holds his shoulders tightly and ducks his head to make sure Evan can see into his eyes. “Talk to me, Evan.”

“Closest family member?” Evan says abruptly. Tommy tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Is Evan asking him again? Did he not hear the answer before? 

When he doesn’t expand, Tommy repeats his answer, “Evan Buckley?” 

“Me?” Evan whispers. Tommy hears the unspoken vulnerability in the words, like for some reason, Evan doesn’t think he deserves such a title. “Why?” he asks, hesitation in the question.

“Because you’re my family,” Tommy answers easily. Evan’s eyebrows pull together and he gazes at Tommy underneath long eyelashes. “Sweetheart,” Tommy sighs, “did you doubt that?” 

“I didn’t… I didn’t even realize I had something to doubt,” Evan admits. Tommy chuckles. 

“Well, don’t start now,” he commands teasingly. Evan pushes him jokingly, but Tommy pulls him tight before he can put too much distance between them. “Hey,” Tommy mutters.

Evan’s got a soft smile on his lips as he hums a response, one that radiates subtle happiness that warms Tommy’s stomach. Evan’s heard the truth in Tommy’s words, but he knows Evan well enough to know that reassurances aren’t a one-time deal. 

Tommy pulls Evan so he can press their foreheads together, ensuring he can’t duck his head and look away like he often does when he’s uncomfortable with Tommy’s affirmations. He holds the back of Evan’s neck in one hand, the other pressing just over Evan’s heart, the one that he wears so blatantly open on his chest. 

Tommy ensures there’s no room for interpretation when he says, “You are my family, Evan Buckley. Okay?”

Evan nods, a dark blush blooming on his face that Tommy can’t help but kiss. Evan might not believe it now, but he will.

(The next time Tommy can get their schedules to line up, he makes Evan his family in a more official capacity—on one knee with a ring in his trembling hands. Of course, Evan says yes.)

read on ao3

[evereverest2]

Little Monster Q&A + author fun facts !!

hello new followers and fans of Little Monster. first of all, i just have to thank everyone for the crazy support ive been getting as of late. thank you everyone. every like, comment, and reblog just pushes me to keep writing, even when it feels like every word i write is garbage.

so i decided to make this little special! idk if anyone will be super interested, so ill put all the stuff under the cut, but i also wanted to add this little drawing i did of terzomega as like extra content. if you arent interested, thanks anyway and enjoy the art!

—

to everyone who stayed, i have no idea why you’re interested, but thanks lmfao. this shit will be long.

Questions

Is your most recent oneshot about the mirror related at all to Little Monster? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i'm glad you noticed that !! in The Mirror, i very purposefully left two hints at the end of the fic to indicate its connection to Little Monster, which was the taco ring reference and Terzo's use of "mostriciatto". to me, mostriciatto will always be the Little Monster version of terzomega. no matter when i finish that fic or if i write more fics after, i will never again use mostriciatto unless im purposefully writing these versions of terzomega. i havent seen anyone else use it (i hope they dont), so i like to imagine this can be forever my impact on terzomega fics lmao. anyway, the purpose of me leaving those references isnt necessarily to say, "this is a future scene of little monster" bc it isnt exactly that (while i have plans that line up with this oneshot, i cannot anticipate that everything will fit perfectly by the time we get there in the canon). the purpose of doing that was to show u cuties that yes, terzo and omega will eventually have a better relationship, and i will be extending this timeline into papa terzo era. just a fun little teaser for my more observant fans.

also, fun fact about how i came up with that pet name. i was writing the first part of Little Monster (that part is now titled Spilled Wine as featured on my Ao3) and i knew i wanted to give terzo an affinity for using pet names, but i didn't know quite which ones to use. i didn't want to be boring, so i googled some. i have no idea where, but i found mostriciatto, meaning, of course, "little monster." i had yet to even really start writing it, but i knew i wanted it to be DARK with a very unhinged omega, so i thought, perfect. ill talk a bit more about the writing of part one later on

2. How many parts do you currently anticipate writing? Do you have a set ending point, or will this perhaps be an ongoing project for the foreseeable future? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i have 12 major plot points (including the first five parts i have written) that loosely translate into parts. this could mean 12 parts, or it could be more depending on what i write. i kinda plan on expanding this to 18 (6 parts per “era” or “act” [you’ll see what i mean]) though i dont quite have a set ending yet, so really its up in the air. i am, however, planning on having a definitive ending, ergo not an endless project. from there there may be some oneshots in this universe, but they will have an ending.

3. In the first part of little monster you put a disclaimer with something along the lines of "if you're expecting comfort I'm sorry to disappoint". The angst is MWAH but do you like plan on giving Terzo like any sort of comfort or happiness?? (from @puuuders)

before i begin rambling, here's your answer: there will be hope and good times as mentioned above, and you might have even picked up on that in part 5. i may have wrote a fucked up versions of terzomega but whats a good story without character growth?? i havent determined the direction of the ending, but rest assured, if it all burns down, they will hold each other close (for the minute it takes).

but also.... funny story about that disclaimer....

soo i wanted to write ghost fanfic to impress my friend who is a VERY avid member of this community. however, i failed to realize they DO NOT like angst without love and care and fluff, so after i showed it to them, buddy did not like it. i took that as a sign that maybe this shit was a little TOO dark.

but my god, i could not stop thinking about it, as the caption said, and i dont always feel that away about what i write. i had recently started to post semi often to tumblr, and i just thought. well, theres gotta be someone else as fucked up as me, and i posted that shit. that disclaimer was a result of taking my friends reaction seriously and realizing that i needed to make it VERY clear that this fic is NOT for everyone. there was a different og caption that was longer and more grave, but i cut it down for aesthetics bc little monster has already seen more success than i ever anticipated.

4. What is your favorite ghost album, and what song introduced you to ghost? (from @puuuders) & Favorite ghost song (or songs) (from @ask-enso-ghoul)

my favorite album is Infestissumam!!! the vibes of the album are so fucking immaculate, even if terzo is my favorite papa.

of course, of course, the first song i ever heard from ghost was Mary on a Cross. it blew up when it did and i loved it. the second song that really made me start getting into ghsot was square hammer, which will secretly also be my favorite ghost song but ive heard it so many times i have to give it now to the future is a foreign land. some of my other fave songs are jigolo, respite, body and blood, faith, twenties, and year zero (there’s just so many)

i want to take a second to say my least favorite album though, which is opus eponymous, or as i call it, pope pussy. it’s ok. it’s just ok. mk. i’m not a fan of that sound. the best song on there is genesis. I FUCKING SAID IT—

5. how do you get into the zone of writing smut-? I’m trying to get into it but it sounds cheesy when I do, so do you do something specific? (from anon)

im gonna level with you. i have been writing for almost a decade, since i was 12, and the first thing i started writing was smut. sex has always been a HUGE creative force for my writing and art in general. as stupid as it sounds, writing smut to me is more than just that. its my art. its my greatest and most inspirational subject. i love being creative with it, bending it to the niches and intricacies of the duo im writing, just playing with it as a medium of expression, of storytelling, of how DEEP it can be.

that being said, one of the easiest ways to get into the zone of smut specifically is being horny ! you imagine your pairing doing some illicit bedroom activity and you pick them up liek dolls and smush their faces together ! let it be fun, and let it be yours. dont write it to please the kinks of your audience, write it to your own taste and enjoyment.

as far as it being cheesy, yeah, it will feel that way. the most important thing is to be confident with your language and don’t shy away from calling a dick a dick, a pussy a pussy, an ass an ass. it feels stupid, but it will read worse if you make up artsy names for them every other line. don’t be afraid to be descriptive either, because that’s what the people want to see, trust me.

apologies if that was unhelpful, ive just been writing smut so long i can hardly tell you how i do it. im jsut super passionate about it and it fuels me creatively….. can u tell lol

6. Favorite work you’ve ever done? (from anon)

so.... ive written many things and that depends. its definitely not anything ive posted on here.

i think my favorite "serious" work is a short story i wrote for a creative writing class, called Abel and Sally. it was an modern inversion of the bible story of abraham and sarah, with a really dark ending (i love to shit on catholicism)

the other work that comes to mind is the first story i wrote about my oc anson, called Anson's Prison. that is something i would potentially post on here, its pretty short but its a good one. its oc content, tho, so i doubt many ppl would be interested lel.

8. will you draw more drawing for your stories in the future? (from anon)

well. heres my thing with art.

ive been drawing as long as ive been writing. but im not an artist; i never learned ANYTHING beyond like drawing itself, i.e. i dont know how to shade, pick colors, do bgs, etc. (can u tell??? do u see that art up there???? can YOU TELL??) thus, i have a sort of love hate relationship with drawing, and i usually dont like my own stuff. i didnt pick up drawing as easy as i did writing and its not nearly as intuitive to me.

that being said, it is sometimes fun when the drawings turn out just right and i get super passionate about something i draw and i can create the image in my head. so if the mood strikes me, i probably will draw more terzomega stuff in the future.

but why do i need to?? @puuuders feeds you all SO WELL with little monster stuff you dont need my shitty art lmfao

9. MILK OR CEREAL FIRST? (from @raysoleil)

cereal. bc the moment the milk hits that cereal u are on a speedy ass countdown to devour that shit before it gets soggy, and brother, u better eat quick.

Things I wanted to share

Little Monster was supposed to be a one shot

so, Little Monster started as one thing and turned to something else entirely. originally, i wrote the beginning of the first chapter (where they are flirting in the church) in about april of this year. in this version, they were supposed to already be in love, though hiding it, and terzo was not drunk at all, just teasing. i eventually scrapped it because i wasnt very passionate about it and got p bored. then, in july, i had the itch to write something dark, but none of my projects at the time had characters i could really write that with. i came back to that scrapped fic and i thought, damn, i could really fuck these guys up, and i did.

little monster immediately became more successful than i thought it would be, and that was only about 10 notes and a comment in. i was happy to leave it at that, but then, i just started writing part two on a whim. if you look at the og post in the comments, i mention that im writing a "follow up". thats bc even when writing part two, this was not going to be a series !! but then, as i kept writing, part two became so long i had to split it in half, meaning there were suddenly 3. by the time i posted part three, though, i was shocked at the sheer amount of attention i was getting. at the same time, part three ended in such a way that i knew this story needed to keep going, to give these two a resolution. now, little monster will be a full fledged story thanks to all the support ive received :3

2. im an english major

yeah, you got me, im a college student majoring in english creative writing. is it obvious? my penultimate goal is to one day be a published author. it’s crazy surreal to me how much people express to me how they enjoy my writing~~ i hope i can one day make my dream come true 🥰 the unfortunate part about this is i go back to college next week and im uncertain how that will affect my writing schedule :p i’ll stick to weekly uploads for little monster tho dw !!

3. this is the first time i’ve written fanfic in several years

when i first started writing it was frerard and peterick fanfics on wattpad in middle school (huge shoutout to the ones that know lmfao). i stopped writing those before hs and haven’t written fanfic since. i think it’s very funny that i have come full circle back to writing band fanfic, altho ghost ofc is way more intricate with its canon

4. I LOVE YOU GUYS

i know i’ve said it a dozen times already on this post, but god it’s crazy. it’s nuts !! i’ve already made a handful of super sweet mutuals who i appreciate with all my heart, and even if you’re just a lurker, I STILL APPRECIATE YOU. EVERY SINGLE NOTE MAKES ME SO HAPPY. EVERY COMMENT AND RB HAS ME BURSTING WITH JOY.

it is entirely thanks to you all that i write terzomega and ive become so passionate about it. if it weren’t for your support, i would probably still be writing my silly little stories that no one but me could possibly understand, rotting away and wondering if anyone would even like my writing. terzo and omega are such a unique pairing compared to what ive written before, and writing them is a really cool feeling. i truly love it, and i hope i can continue to feed this side of the fandom for a long time.

from the bottom of my heart and with all my writing soul, thank you. i want to keep writing for u guys, and i want to satiate ur dirty terzomega fantasies >:) this is such a sweet and inclusive fandom and im glad i’ve been welcomed in so quickly. i hope i can continue to grow my talent here :3

ok that’s it bye teehee

[entishramblings]

The Scorpion of Sarn Ford [Aragorn/F!Reader]

A.N: the amount of weird shit I had to google for this….my FBI agent definitely thinks I’m planning some fucked up crap.

Inspired: this fic was inspired by @estelofrivendell ‘s fic A Change of Heart. I adored the Assassin/Ranger relationship and had to put my own spin on it!

Pairing: Aragorn X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Scorpion of Sarn Forn is a notorious assassin. Much to Strider’s dismay, they are both hired for a job.

Disclaimer: I tried my best with geography, once again, it isn’t my best subject. heh!

Word count: 8.2k (idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, humor that will have you peeing, blood, torture, death, murder, brief insinuation to sexual abuse (side character), creepy men that get what's coming to them, a little bit of spice, brief shirtless aragorn. this sounds very dark but I promise you its good, besides: shirtless aragorn. duh.

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

Aragorn never thought he would be in this position. He never even anticipated such a scenario. It was, quite frankly, entirely unfathomable. Not once did it cross his mind that he might be in the same city as her, much less be forced to sit next to her at The Black Falcon Tavern and Inn with a potential contractor. You see, The Scorpion of Sarn Ford—or as Aragorn preferred to refer to her as: the heinous hellspawn that middle-earth would undoubtedly be far better off without—was a notorious assassin. She made her coin from slipping into the shadows and slaughtering her targets, leaving no trace besides a corpse—still warm from the blood that once ran through it. The men of the south-west were wise enough to be wary and the rich of such lands were stupid enough to empower her with their dark wishes. She’s rumored to have a body count in the hundreds, including kings and queens. Though, that is not how she acquired her title.

Percaric Rothswood, one of the richer dukes of Anfalas, sat with them at a table in the back of the tavern. The Ranger and the Scorpion occupied the bench alongside the wooden wall, granting them both a clear vantage point of the entire establishment, while Percaric sat in a chair across from them. Aragorn's arms were folded, a small blade discreetly nestled up his sleeve, and his ale remained untouched on the table. Yet, the assassin reclined casually at his side, her dark cloak draped loosely enough to unveil the myriad of weapons adorning her attire, with two empty pints before her and a third in her hand.

The peculiar grouping drew the attention of onlookers—it was indeed an unusual gathering, particularly with the presence of the infamous Scorpion of Sarn Ford, and her form specifically beside Strider. Nervous and inquisitive gazes, hushed conversations, subtle nods, and even more overt glances from passersby and bar-sitters were all directed towards the pair. If a meeting like this were to take place, something must be going down.

“So, what’s this job, Percaric, that requires a ranger and a shrew,” Aragorn gruffed, his scowl as deep as the sand pits of the eastern coast.

The woman beside him snorted. “A shrew. Just what a lady wants to be called.”

He shrugged. “An argumentative, ill-tempered rat. I see no difference between it and you.”

She raised a brow, twisting her head to look at him. “Technically a shrew is a mole.”

Aragorn sent her a glare in response.

She huffed at him. “A mole that will die if it doesn't eat every two to three hours.” She picked up her ale and took a swing. “That sounds nothing like me.”

“You reckon so? I bet if you didn't get new gold to chew on in that exact time frame you would also die of pompous deprivation.”

A deep chuckle escaped her throat as her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. She turned to quip back an insult; however, Percaric nervously interrupted the hostile hires.

“Well, uh, you see, it's quite a delicate matter. The-the job, that is. My client doesn't want his indiscretions aired out among the common folk because, well, uh, the matter is quite sensitive and—”

Aragorn rolled his eyes. “Just spit it out, Percaric.”

The man exhaled through his nose, nervously patting the table. “Right, right, very well then.” He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, my client, his daughter was taken by someone of high prestige and, well, he would like her back.”

Aragorn leaned back in the chair. “Why doesn't he just pay the ransom then? Instead of hiring someone to take her back. There is a ransom isn't there?”

“Of course, of course. But, well, you see, this daughter, ehem, she’s bastard-born. His wife doesnt know that she exists and he would like to keep it that way. Paying the ransom directly would cause too much attention. Like I said, he wants this discreet.”

Aragorn sighed, his morals pulling hard on his heart. “How old is the girl?”

Percaric winced. “Fourteen.”

The Ranger cursed under his breath. “She’s just a kid.”

“Yes, yes. Well, you see, that’s why my client asked for you, Strider. Not many would want to help a bastard daughter.”

The Scorpion leaned in. “Then why did he ask for me as well?”

Percaric’s face twitched. “Well, uh, Scorpion, there’s a matter a bit more delicate involved that requires your skill.”

She raised her brows.

“My–my client’s daughter is quite beautiful. Well, we can only assume what is being done to her by her captor during her stay. He, well, he wants the perpetrator killed.”

She snorted, leaning back into the wall behind her. “Why not make Strider here do it?”

The Ranger clenched his jaw. “He should be imprisoned, rotting in a cell for his crime.”

“Ah,” she started. “You would bring him in instead of kill him, and that would mean a trial.” She winked at Percaric. “Too public for this client of yours.”

An anxious and awkward giggle-like breath left the man’s lips. “Precisely.”

“So, where is she being kept?” The Scorpion asked.

The duke glanced around him before leaning in and letting his next sentence come out as a whisper. “The tower of Eastemnet.”

“Eastemnet?” Aragorn confirmed, wide-eyed and surprised. “But that would mean—”

“Lord Theovail,” the assassin interjected. “One of the richest, well-guarded men in Arda.”

Percaric bit his lip. “Yes, yes. Now, well, now you see why my client asked for you, Scorpion of Sarn Ford.”

Aragorn huffed, hot air coming from his nose, as he shook his head—now finally reaching for his ale. “We will take the job,” he stated reluctantly.

“Oi! Not so fast,” the assassin interjected. “What’s the pay?”

The Ranger shot her a glare. “A girl, a child, is being held prisoner, and you worry of pay?”

She glared right back at him before turning back to Percaric. “The pay?”

He cleared his throat. “Three hundred pieces of gold up front and another three hundred upon your return of the girl, alive, and proof of Theovail’s death. Though you will have to split it, I’m afraid.”

She raised her hands with a tilt of the head. “Fine by me.” She turned, flashing a devilish grin to the man next to her. “Let us go hunt a girl-snatching arsewipe, Strider.”

He offered no-response other than a scowling side eye.

“Fantastic,” Percaric replied, taking two coin pouches out and plopping them on the table.

The assassin was quick to snatch up one of the bundles, standing, ready to take her leave.

Aragorn, however, let his finger drift over the coin. He glanced up at Percaric. “What’s her name?”

The man’s expression softened. “Calista, daughter of Lord Kassim.”

Aragorn nodded, grasping onto the pouch. “We will bring Calista home.”

……

The pair had been traveling for approximately two weeks at this point, and their interactions during this time were characterized by sparse conversations intertwined with numerous glares and disdainful expressions. In those few moments when words were exchanged, they were often heated disagreements concerning which path to follow, strategies for infiltrating the tower, or debates over the responsibilities of meals. It was, quite frankly, the most miserable trek across Arda that Aragorn had ever taken upon. But it wasn't until they were passing through the gap of Rohan, between the Misty Mountains and Ered Nimrais, that they met any trouble.

An arrow, coming from the mountain’s rocky side, whizzing past Aragorn’s ear was the first sign of danger.

He whipped his head around. “Scorpion!” he called out in warning, his eyes meeting the assassin’s for a brief moment.

She drew her dual silver blades only seconds before a small pack of goblins began descending. She was quick to behead the first goblin whose feet hit the grassy pass they walked through.

“Goblin’s from the Mountains,” she hissed.

Aragorn too drew his sword. “They shouldn't be this far south! They stay up near Ehu Daur and Moira!” He drove his blade through one of the beasts, swinging around to slice another.

“Well, clearly, they dont give a fuck as to where they should or should be!” The Scorpion quipped back as she brought one of her blades through the neck of one of the creatures. “On your left!”

Aragorn twisted his body just in time to block a blow from a rusted scythe.

The assassin dodged the next beast that came at her and sprinted towards the biggest one. She was quick to push herself into the air, flip over the goblin, and slice its throat before her feet even landed on the ground.

She looked up to see the two final goblins, one in match with her companion and the other approaching his back.

The woman moved quickly. Her feet carried her towards the beast who held its blade above Strider’s head. Just before it was to be brought downward, she yelled out a war cry and grasped onto the few hairs the creature had. She yanked hard. The goblin fell backwards onto the ground and she pounced on top of him, sending her blade through his heart—his pungent blood spraying across her face, neck, tunic, and leather armor.

With heavy panting breath, she stood and turned to face the Ranger who had slayed the final beast. Kicking the corpse of the one she had just killed, she spoke. “Only nine. A scouting team. More will be coming upon their lack of return. We gotta get a move on.”

Aragorn’s lips were parted in surprise, realizing that he nearly lost his life. Surprising the assassin, he spoke words that she never would have thought to leave his lips for her. “Thank you, Scorpion.”

She raised her brows. “I have a name, you know, Strider.”

The Ranger turned away from her, continuing along their path. “I don't care to know it,” he gruffed out, his brief sincerity from moments before disappearing.

She snorted, calling out to him regardless. “It’s (Y/N).”

“Don’t fall behind, Scorpion,” he replied.

She huffed, her irritation obvious, before jogging to catch up with his wide strides. “I don’t like you very much either, but if we're gonna be on this job for a while, you could at least not be a dick.”

“Coming from the rudest and most corrupt person I have ever met, that's rich.”

She chuckled loudly. “Wow. Rude, okay, I deserve that. But corrupt? That’s a bit far-fetched.”

He stopped walking, twisting to glower down at her with disgust. “You truly think so? Let’s talk of why they attach the massacre of Sarn Ford to your name. You killed dozens. Women. Children. Innocents. All for what? Gold! Corrupt is too kind a word for you. Wicked, diabolical, vicious is more like it.”

(Y/N)’s brows shot upward as a pained and frustrated laugh thundered in her chest. “Really? Do you even know what was happening in Sarn Ford?!”

“They were farmers! Common folk! Living off the land in peace and you…you slaughtered them!” he yelled.

She got in his face, her hot, angry breath burning against his skin. “THEY WERE ALREADY GOOD AS DEAD, STRIDER!”

“How could you even say that?” he replied, horrified.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, before focusing back on the man before her. “A disease was making its way through their village. Incurable. Painful. An alchemist, who had been working for weeks to try and find anything to help them, hired me. There was nothing to be done for them except extend a hand of mercy. To give them a good, painless death.”

Aragorn stared at her, his brows pulled together with shock in his gaze.

The assassin clenched her jaw. “I had mothers plead with me to end their child's life while cradled in their arms, only to follow them into death. At least, that way, they could die together.” She looked up at him, her tone privy with rage. “So, yes, Strider, feel free to bestow upon me any epithet you see fit."

He was silent, his shock radiating into the wind around him. Quietly, he spoke again, “How did you not get sick?”

She exhaled slowly. “The alchemist instructed me to wear cloth over my face and cover all skin but my eyes. Once the deed was done, I burned everything I wore and paid for new clothes with gold born of their suffering.”

Aragorn nodded slowly, compassion in his gray eyes. “I am sorry. Doing such a thing mustn't have been easy. It was an execution of mercy.” He turned, continuing once more. “Though the tales of your other kills aren't so kind. Come along, Scorpion. There’s a town a couple days ahead.”

(Y/N) snorted, anger seething in her bones, but followed him nonetheless.”

…..

The pair strode towards the Inn, located not far from Gondor’s borders. They forcefully pulled the door open, unveiling a noisy uproar of laughter and boisterous shouting, mingling with the lovely odors of urine, sweat, and stagnant ale. Creating such an environment, one the Scorpion and Ranger were used to, were the disheveled bodies of inebriated men.

With a mischievous grin, (Y/N) expertly navigated through the crowd, leading Strider to a secluded table nestled in a dim corner. It wasn't long before the arrival of steaming platters of meat and bread arrived, along with two pints of foamy ale, both of which they heartily devoured. The Scorpion raised her hand, beckoning the barmaid over and placing an order for two more pints—both of which she downed, much to Aragorn's evident disapproval.

After releasing a loud belch, she casually swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then rose to her feet. “Gonna go get some air,” she grumbled, her balance momentarily unsteady as she gained her footing. Aragorn, in response, merely offered an exasperated roll of his eyes.

The assassin maneuvered through the bustling throng of men, slipping through the sea of people before pushing through the doors. The sudden rush of frigid tranquility enveloped her skin as she stepped into the embrace of the night. With a deliberate intake of breath, she allowed the crisp air to fill her lungs. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she tilted her head upwards, letting the misting drizzle of rain kiss her skin. The sound of the tavern was muffled, and the echoes of the celebration they passed down the road drifted into the air. Though it was subtle, for it didn't drown out the sounds of the singing crickets or the croaking frogs. It was peaceful. Well, that is until a form slammed into her and pressed her against the wall.

The smell of ale-laden breath and sticky sweat filled her nostrils as her eyes shot open. Her gaze, fueled by adrenaline, locked onto the burly figure before her—a man with a rugged orange beard—who had forced himself upon her.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a dangerous place like this?” he asked, a knife held to her throat.

She snarled up at him. “Oh, you're about to find out—”

Before she could make a move, however, the man was suddenly struck from the side, his body sent sprawling onto the weathered, muddy path.

As (Y/N) peeled herself from the wall, her hand instinctively reached for the slight gash on her neck. Meanwhile, the bearded man found himself seized by the throat, forcefully hoisted upward, and pressed hard against the unyielding stone.

“Do you even know who that is?” Strider uttered sharply.

A chuckle escaped the lips of the man, his bloodied lip spraying a fine mist of red onto Aragorn's face. “You’re whore?” he sneered.

With an unrelenting grip on the man's throat, Aragorn pulled him several inches away from the wall, only to slam him back against it once more. The impact elicited a grunt from the man. "The Scorpion of Sarn Ford," Aragorn hissed through clenched teeth, his voice seething with restrained fury.

The assailant’s laughter was dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah and I'm the fuckin’ King of Gondor.”

The Ranger clenched his jaw, ignoring the secret dig the man's comment produced. “You know why they call her that? Hmm. The Scorpion? Scorpions incapacitate their prey with venom, paralyzing them before they deal the final blow. That woman over there? She severs her targets’ spinal nerve, rendering them unable to move before subjecting them to her torture and kill. And the worst part? She doesn't even need them paralyzed. She gets off from witnessing the terror in their eyes as they're rendered helpless.”

Another laugh escaped the man, but as his gaze shifted towards (Y/N), his amusement faded. The assassin now held a dagger, twirling it in her fingers, a sinister grin stretching across her features.

He turned to look back at Aragorn, the color now drained from his face. “Ye’ c-cant be serious,” he stammered.

The Ranger merely lifted his brows and tilted his head.

Driven by desperation to escape the woman beside them, the man started to shove against Aragorn. However, a single forceful punch to his jaw rendered him unconscious, his body collapsing onto the mud once more.

“I had it handled,” the assassin stated.

Aragorn shot her a stern glare before responding bluntly, "Sure, you did."

The woman emitted a snort, yet settled into a squat beside the man, her dagger poised.

The Ranger, however, was quick to grab her by the wrist, successfully stopping her actions. "Are you out of your mind? We can't kill him. That's the last thing we need – drawing attention to ourselves."

With a huff of mild exasperation, she sheathed her blade. "Fine." She then nodded to the black horse tethered nearby, gesturing with a nod. "That's his horse. Saw him dismount as we entered. Bring it here."

Aragorn frowned, confused, but did as she asked.

“Alright,” she stated, gathering the man’s arms in her hands. “Help me with his legs.”

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Strider, just grab his damn legs.”

Exhaling audibly, the Ranger complied, reluctantly gripping the man's ankles. With a coordinated heave, they hoisted the man up from the muck. After a few groans and sighs, he was draped over his horse's back.

The Scorpion then took the leather strapping of the saddle and began binding the man’s hands and feet to it. She nodded to the young maple tree behind the Ranger. “Get me a large twig from that. Bout a foot tall. Keep the leaves on it.”

“What?” he hissed, his hands spreading wide in a gesture of bewilderment.

“Strider, would you just get the branch,” she urged impatiently.

Another loud, reluctant exhale left his lips, yet he trudged toward the tree and pulled off what she requested. He approached her, holding out the twig.

“Ah, thank you,” she acknowledged with a grin, accepting it from him.

With that she moved to the side of the horse, close to the man's legs. She seized the waistband of his trousers and gave it a yank, reaving his bare ass.

“Scorpion,” Aragorn chided.

Undeterred, she grinned, sticking the small branch between his ass cheeks so it stood upright, its leaves rustling faintly in the breeze.

“Seriously?” he gruffed out, his arms crossed.

(Y/N) looked at him with a wicked smirk. “You hear that party still going on down the road? I think they would appreciate some impromptu entertainment.” With that, she smacked the horse's rear and, with a brisk snort, it took off down the path.

Not even a minute passed, when they heard the shouts of anger and amusement funneling from the gathering.

Strider turned to glare at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with irritation. He grasped onto her bicep and pulled her towards the doors. "Get inside the damned tavern, quickly."

A loud, hearty laugh flew from her throat, yet she allowed him to pull her along.

Engulfed once again in the clamorous atmosphere of the inn, Aragorn wasted no time in steering her towards the bar. “You can't just put a branch up the arsehole of a person that pisses you off,” he hissed under his breath.

She grinned unapologetically. “Sure, I can.”

He blew hot air out his nose, opting to withhold a retort. With a determined demeanor, he maneuvered them through the crowd of men, navigating as close to the counter as he could get. "Barkeep," he called out, projecting his voice. "Two room keys."

The man approached them with a shrug. “Only got one room left.”

Aragorn huffed. “Fine. Well take it.”

With that, the Ranger deposited three gold coins into the man's palm, secured the key, and then swiftly tugged the Scorpion alongside him as they grabbed their bags and ascended the creaky wooden staircase.

They approached their door, marked the same as the key, and it swung open under Aragorn’s touch. Within, the room exuded a chill darkness, accompanied by a faint draft slipping in through the slightly cracked window. The space appeared quite sparse, furnished with nothing but a small dresser, a modest table accompanied by two chairs...and a solitary bed.

A muttered curse escaped the Ranger's lips as he unceremoniously dropped his bag onto the table. "I'll take the floor."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Really, Strider? It’s the one night we get the option of having a bed. As long as you stay on your side, I don't mind sharing.”

“Fine,” was his gruff response.

With that, the pair began getting comfortable for the night. Aragorn lit the worn down candle, its feeble golden glow illuminating the area, proving slightly better light as he dug through his bag. Meanwhile, (Y/N) shed her cloak and vast assortment of weapons, earning a skeptical glance from the Ranger. Yet, when she began to unfasten the tightly-worn leather armor that clung to her figure, his reaction was far more dramatic. "What on earth is that stench?!" he blurted out, recoiling.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Remember those goblins? Yeah, I got an unexpected bath in their blood.”

“That was days ago. You reek,” he retorted. He strode over to the dresser, opening drawers until he came across a gray towel. Returning to the table, he picked up the pitcher beside the candle and gradually poured water into a small basin, also provided. After submerging the towel and wringing it out, he flung the damp cloth towards her, which she easily caught. “Clean yourself up.”

She shrugged once more. Turning away, she shed her shirt and let it drop to the floor. Her swift movements were focused as she wiped her face, neck, and chest, cleansing her skin of the grime that clung to it.

Though Aragorn didn't intend to look, his gaze inadvertently flicked towards her silhouette against the wall. It was then that his eyes fixed upon her bare back, adorned with a network of vivid, angry scars. He’d seen scars like that. He knew what they were from: torture.

“(Y/N),” he whispered sincerely, his steps leading him closer to her form. “What happened?”

Hearing her name for the first time from his lips, she was caught off guard—her heart skipping a beat. The simple utterance carried an unexpected weight, a rare vulnerability that seemed to momentarily freeze her in place. Uncertainty gripped her as she stood still, her mind racing to process the unfamiliar tone from him.

His touch was tender as he raised his hand to trace the lines on her skin. “Who did this to you?” he growled.

Brought back to the present, she instinctively recoiled from his touch. "I'm an assassin. I've earned my fair share of enemies," she replied, her voice tinged with defiance. Shifting her gaze over her shoulder, she met his eyes. "Have an extra shirt? Mine's beyond saving."

"I, uh, yes. Yes, of course," Aragorn responded, seeming to realize the sudden intimacy of the moment. He retreated to his bag, rifling through its contents until he procured a cream-colored tunic. He tossed it to her. "This should suffice."

“Thanks,” she grumbled, pulling it over her head.

(Y/N) approached the table, the Ranger's shirt engulfing her smaller frame. The fabric's loose drape hung off her shoulder. If she wasn't such a menace, Aragorn would have thought that she looked cute in his clothes.

Ungracefully, she deposited the damp towel on the tabletop before proceeding to yank off her boots and socks, placing them with a deliberate thud upon the chair nearby. “We are not that far from the tower of Eastemnet. Perhaps a two day journey or so. However, our predicament remains unchanged: we don't have a solid strategy. We don't have any floor plans. We don't know how many guards will be stationed. And we don't know where the girl is being kept. We are gonna be going in blind—”

“You’re bleeding,” he interjected, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of concern.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just a scratch,” she dismissed casually.

Aragorn grasped onto her jaw, lifting her chin up to take a better look. "A seemingly insignificant wound could easily become infected, Scorpion," he asserted, his tone insistent.”

She pulled her head from his grasp with a snort. “I’m fine, Strider.”

He crossed his arms, an unyielding resolve in his expression. “If we are breaking into Lord Theovail’s tower and stealing from him, I'd prefer my partner not succumb to infection-induced delirium, potentially endangering both our lives." Swiftly, he nudged the empty chair towards her. “Now, sit down, Scorpion.”

(Y/N)’s brows lifted, followed by a teasing expression that animated her features. “Oh? So I'm your partner now?” she quipped, her tone laced with playful amusement. "What happened to the 'vicious shrew killer that you would rather leave tied to a tree,' as I seem to recall you once calling me?"

He glared at her. “Sit, or I will leave you tied to a tree.”

Surprisingly, she did as he asked, allowing herself to sink into the chair with her legs casually sprawled and her arms folded tightly across her chest. Aragorn dug through his bag, pulling out a couple small tins and a tiny glass bottle. Grasping the towel, he located a clean section and dipped it into the basin. Squatting down between her legs, he lifted the towel to her neck. "Chin up," he instructed, and she obeyed without protest. Gently, he began cleansing the wound, meticulously removing dirt and debris from the area. Next, he uncapped the small glass bottle. "This might sting," he warned.

She clenched her jaw, but said nothing as the alcohol was poured upon her neck. Aragorn gently dabbed the liquid away. He then opened one of the small tins, extracting a dollop of green goo.

“What is that shit?” (Y/N) asked.

“Athelas leaf paste.”

“Athelas leaf?” she echoed, seeking further clarification.

“Kingsfoil. Athelas is the elvish word for it,” he replied simply, his attention focused on gently applying the paste to the wound.

She raised her eyebrows. “Elvish, huh. You're full of surprises, Strider. Where’d ya learn that?”

“Shush. Be still.”

The Scorpion rolled her eyes, but complied as he completed the task.

Standing up, Aragorn rinsed his hands and addressed her once more. "We can devise a plan for the tower tomorrow. Right now, we need rest."

(Y/N) sighed, nodding in agreement, as she too stood. She made her way towards the bed and pulled back the thin sheet, eager to climb into the softness of a mattress—regardless of how old and worn it was.

The gentle sound of air extinguishing the candle was succeeded by the enveloping darkness that reclaimed the room. Soon, Aragorn’s footsteps followed. She discerned the rustle of fabric as, presumably, he removed his shirt. The bed then creaked gently as he settled beside her, lying on his back.

She, resting on her side away from him, let her eyes close. There she laid, for a moment, before shifting. Then she shifted again. And again.

“Stop moving, Scorpion,” Aragorn grumbled, his patience waning.

“I can’t get comfortable!” she retorted.

“That’s because you keep moving.”

“It’s cold and you're stealing all the blankets.” With a determined tug, she seized more of the fabric, leaving Aragorn with a minimal share.

He merely exhaled audibly, opting for a wordless response. At the very least, she had ceased her constant fidgeting.

Aragorn remained awake during the initial hours, unable to find slumber. (Y/N)'s breathing had swiftly settled into a rhythmic pattern after she commandeered the majority of the sheets, though her small unconscious movements kept interrupting the perceived tranquility. Occasional, soft whimpers escaped her lips, her brows furrowing with evident distress. In truth, Aragorn found himself uncertain of how to respond. He held onto the hope that the disturbances would cease on their own, perhaps that whatever troubled her dreams would eventually pass. And eventually, it did stop, but not without an unexpected turn of events.

The Ranger's senses jolted as the Scorpion’s frigid form rolled towards his side of the bed, seeking refuge in his warmth. Although she had mentioned feeling cold earlier, the intensity of her chill surprised him. The wave of uncertainty that washed over him did not leave as her cheek pressed against his bare chest. Initially, the thought of infection taking hold crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it; her skin would have been hot to the touch if that were the case. It only took seconds for him to realize that the draft from the cracked window was striking her side directly. With a sigh of reluctance, he tentatively encircled his arm around her, drawing her in further.

In her state of deep slumber, she instinctively nestled into him, drawing a slight skip from Aragorn's heart. He cast a cautious gaze downward, taking in her appearance.

She seemed so different—distinctly separate from the notorious assassin he knew her to be. There was an innocence, an unexpected purity, about her in this moment that rendered her almost unrecognizable. Gone was the perpetual scowl that often marked her features. Instead, her face had relaxed into a gentle expression of repose, free from the tension. Her lips, adorned with the faintest hint of a pout, moved slightly as she drew each breath, almost as if he warded off the nightmares that had plagued her.

In this vulnerable state, the Scorpion seemed untainted by her reputation, stripped of her fearsome persona. The layers of her identity, usually shrouded in crude comments and sharp weapons, had fallen away. It revealed that the facade that she showed the world was just that, a facade. A good one at that though. Even Aragorn—a man well-acquainted with the intricacies of human nature—hadn't thought it would be a mask; but her story of Sarn Ford was the first thing that revealed its possibility to him. It was as if the walls she kept built had crumbled away, allowing him a glimpse of the person beneath the lies. And, until sleep claimed him, he allowed himself to savor this glimpse—to see her beyond the assassin.

When the first light of dawn began to filter in, (Y/N) stirred, wrapped in the warmth and safety that had cocooned her during the night. She hesitated to peel open her eyelids, savoring the sensation. However, as her senses roused to full awareness, a gentle yet distinct rhythm reached her ears—the steady thud of a heart beating beneath her. In an instant, her eyes shot open, and a surge of apprehension raced through her.

Beneath her, Strider's form lay, his chest rising and falling in slumber. Anxiety tightened her chest and clawed at her throat. Reacting instinctively, she sat up abruptly and, fueled by adrenaline, threw a punch at him.

A resounding groan of pain escaped his lips as he scrambled to sit up, his expression twisting in both surprise and discomfort. "What the hell, Scorpion?!" he managed to sputter, his hand instinctively reaching to dab at his lip.

“I thought I told you to stay on your side of the bed!” she retorted sharply.

He glared at her, his irritation obvious. “I did. If you would take a moment to observe your surroundings, you would see you are in fact on my side of the bed.”

Wide-eyed and perplexed, she twisted her upper body around, casting a glance over her shoulder. As the reality of the situation dawned on her, she faced him once more. Her eyes filtered over his form briefly, taking in his muscled biceps and defined abs. Her expression then turned into a deeper scowl. “Fuck off!” she snapped.

He only stared at her, bewildered.

….

Under the shroud of darkness, the Ranger and the Assassin stood at the base of the tower of Eastemnet on the south side. Concealed within the protective embrace of the tree line, they had spent approximately three hours observing the guards' patterns and identifying vulnerabilities in the tower's defenses. There they had hidden two steeds that (Y/N) had procured for them at the inn—most likely through theft, though Aragorn didn't want to think of that—allowing for a quick escape with Calista. Strategically, they discreetly knocked out all the guards on the outposts, binding and gagging them, for they knew the element of surprise would be their only bet. So, now they stood, with a pretty loose plan, ready to steal back what Lord Theovail had taken.

The Scorpion grasped onto the vine that entwined itself along the stone surface of the tower. A swift, assessing tug confirmed its stability. Her gaze shifted briefly to the man positioned behind her. “About two hundred feet to the top. Best guess, that’s where Calista is being held.”

He nodded. “After you.”

The Scorpion adjusted her grip upon the vine and she initiated her ascent. Aragorn doing the same only minutes after.

They moved in a synchronized rhythm, the sound of their breaths and the faint rustling of vines mingling with the night's stillness. Each handhold and foothold was chosen with precision, the texture of the stone under their fingertips guiding their progress.

(Y/N)’s movements were fluid and practiced, evidence to her agility and experience. Her lithe form seemed to dance with the contours of the tower, making it look easy. Aragorn, not as accustomed to such endeavors, displayed a determination that rivaled his unease. His powerful muscles flexed and strained as he pulled himself upward, his eyes never straying far from the path she took.

After what felt like hours, the assassin spoke. “Nearly there, just a couple more feet.”

Aragorn only grunted in response.

The woman firmly gripped the vine adjacent to the windowsill, positioning her feet against the wall in a manner resembling a vertical walk. This facilitated her upward movement as she pulled herself closer to the window. Yet, as her head reached the level of the glass, she swiftly withdrew, instinctively lowering herself. In an unfortunate circumstance, the unconventional stance she maintained resulted in her ass colliding with Aragorn's face.

He groaned. “Really, Scorpion?! Really?!”

“My bad,” she huffed out. “Hold on a second. I think someone is in there.”

“Yeah, hopefully Calista.”

She resumed her ascent, then promptly lowered herself again. This time, Aragorn effectively maneuvered his head to the side, evading her buttocks.

Regardless of this, he shot her a glare—not that she would be able to see it.

“It was a maid.” she whispered. “I think we are in the clear now.”

With that, she heaved herself up for a final time and reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh. “Duck your head,” she commanded. With as much force as she could muster, she brought the blade against the glass, tucking her face into her elbow. It shattered, falling around them both like deadly snow.

The Scorpion pulled herself upward and through the window, careful not to be pierced by any stray piece of glass, and Aragorn did the same.

The room was small, but decorated to the extreme. The prominent feature was the bed, elevated upon a platform, its tall wooden posts adorned with a luxurious velvet canopy that cascaded in graceful drapes. The mattress was covered in ornate blankets and quilts, complemented by an array of plush pillows. However, any semblance of beauty was starkly contradicted by the grim sight of chains extending from the wall and ensnaring the wrists of a young girl, shattering the room's facade of luxury.

Immediately, Aragorn ran towards her side. “Calista,” he murmured gently. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”

Calista's golden hair framed a face that appeared worn and defeated. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a gaze void of life. Her voice emerged as a feeble whisper. "Who are you?" she inquired softly.

Standing steadfast in the center of the room, (Y/N) maintained her posture with crossed arms. Her unwavering gaze fixed on the imposing wooden door that likely remained locked from the other side. “Your father sent us.”

Aragorn carefully manipulated the cuffs that bound Calista's wrists, gingerly freeing her from their constricting hold. "I'm Strider," he introduced himself, his fingers working skillfully. "We're here to help. Come.”

As if entranced, Calista began to sit up, struggling to rise from the bed. Aragorn extended his support, assisting her onto the floor. However, her weak frame proved too fragile to sustain itself. She leaned unsteadily against him, her body unable to bear its own weight.

The Ranger looked to his partner. “She’s too weak. There's no way I can scale down the wall with her on my back. She won't have the strength to hold on."

The Scorpion uttered a quiet curse. “You will just have to come with me to find Theovail.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. We can't bring her near him.”

“Well, we don't have any other choice,” she snapped. “But as soon as I kill him, we will have to haul ass. His guard will be coming for us then—if they don't already know we are here.”

Aragorn clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply. “Fine. Get that door open.”

With that, the Scorpion set to work picking the lock and Aragorn scooped Calista up in his arms, her golden head nestled into his chest. It wasn't long before the group was creeping down the tower, level by level. The Scorpion led the way, ducking behind walls and maneuvering around pillars, making sure the way was clear. When they came across a guard that was blocking their escape, she was quick to slice his throat and pull his body out of sight.

“Scorpion, why you can't just knock them out?” Aragorn whispered with exasperation.

She, dropping his legs as she stuffed him into a closet, glared at him. “And risk having him wake up and alert others? I think not."

He huffed, knowing she was right.

However, their path forward soon encountered a challenge they couldn't evade as easily. Just as they were on the verge of turning a corner, a young maid's panicked voice pierced the air. “The-the girl. She’s gone!”

(Y/N) slammed her back against the stone wall, Aragorn doing the same.

“What do you mean ‘she’s gone’??!” A deep male voice thundered.

A shared realization passed between (Y/N) and Aragorn—Lord Theovail had now entered the fray.

“FIND HER!” he snapped. “Or it will be your head!”

The servant scurried down the hall, running right past the Ranger and Assassin who slunk into the shadows with their charge.

(Y/N) cautiously peered around the corner. The room before them was every bit as lavish as the one that had imprisoned Calista, if not more so. A roaring fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting flickering shadows that danced across the two plush velvet couches by it. Luxurious fur blankets adorned each sofa, hinting at Theovail’s rich indulgence. A sprawling fur carpet lay before the fireplace, while an ornate wine cart laden with deep reds was conveniently placed nearby. And there, infuriated, stood Lord Theovail himself, a glass of crimson liquid in hand, his temper fuming. To make matters worse, his guards were positioned near the room's exit—the very door that Aragorn would need to pass through in order to escape with Calista.

The Scorpion drew her knife, sending Aragorn a look. It was time. In a hushed tone, she whispered to him. “When you hear it’s over, take her and run to the doors. I'll be right behind you.”

He nodded in agreement.

She then disappeared into the shadows. Not even a minute passed before Aragorn heard the thumping of two bodies, one right after the other, followed by the telltale crash of a shattering wine glass meeting the floor.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Lord Theovail’s voice thundered, a mix of surprise and outrage lacing his words.

Aragorn cautiously peered around the corner, his heart pounding. Lord Theovail was now a whirlwind of fury and frustration, his gaze darting in every direction and a knife clutched in his hand. “I am not one to indulge in games!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber as he brandished the blade. “Reveal yourself, you coward!”

Within seconds, the Scorpion’s blade was poised menacingly at Lord Theovail's throat, her grip firm and unwavering as she held him in check from behind. Her voice dripped with a sinister malice as she spoke, her words slithering through the air like a venomous serpent. “Lord Kassim sends his regards.”

A broad chuckle bubbled from Theovail's lips, mingling with a mix of disbelief and arrogance. “A woman?! Kassim sends a woman to kill me?!”

Aragorn watched as the assassin drew another blade from her lethal arsenal, the steel glinting in the dim light. He winced inwardly, knowing what was about to unfold. In one swift, calculated motion, the Scorpion's blade found its mark, slicing deeply into Theovail's spine. The lord's body crumpled to the floor, staining the pristine white fur carpet with a gruesome red pool. His once-commanding presence now reduced to stillness. Though his eyes, wide and drifting in panic, showed his fear.

She then sat on top of him, bringing the blade to his neck once more. The Scorpion's lips curled into a chilling grin, her eyes alight with a dark satisfaction. “Not just any woman. You ever hear of The Scorpion of Sarn Ford?”

Instantly, a tidal wave of horror engulfed Theovail's blue gaze, his previously defiant demeanor shattered like the fragile glass of Calista’s window.

He knew the legend. He knew there was no escape for him.

However, at that moment, a large, burly guard burst in. Seeing what was unfolding, he was at his Lord’s assistance in a flash. His hand grasped onto the assassin’s hair, yanking her form from Theovail.

Aragorn clenched his jaw, giving her a moment before he intervened.

The collision sent shards of glass and splintered wood flying as the guard and the Scorpion crashed into the wine cart, locked in a fierce struggle. The guard, towering in his size, managed to regain his footing first and hauled the Scorpion up with him. His meaty fists struck out, landing brutal blows that drew crimson from her nose and brow.

The Ranger cursed. Quickly, he sat Calista upon the ground and rushed to his partner's aid. Unsheathing his blade, he lunged into the fray. His sword found its mark in the guard's back, the steel emerging through the man's stomach. Time seemed to freeze as the guard's bloodied gaze locked with the Scorpion's, a moment charged with shock and shared disbelief. The guard crumpled to the ground, revealing Aragorn.

With a swift motion, Aragorn twisted his blade downward and reached out to grasp the Scorpion's face, his hands marked by a blend of relief and fear. The touch, both tender and urgent, brought her gaze to his. Blood marked one cheek, while the other felt the cool press of his blade's hilt against her skin. His deep voice, a mixture of anxiety and care, called out her name. "(Y/N)," he stated, the word a lifeline that pierced through her dazed state.

"(Y/N)," he spoke once more, the urgency remaining. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, forcing a response. “Yes, yes. I'm fine.”

Aragorn released a sigh of relief, yet his hand remained for another heartbeat, a reassurance in the form of touch. "Take care of Theovail. I will get Calista," he instructed, his hands finally and reluctantly withdrawing as he moved to tend to their young charge.

The rest was a blur: (Y/N) slicing Theovail’s throat and grabbing his ruby ring, Aragorn hauling Calista into his arms, and the trio racing down the tower's corridors—fending off any obstacle that dared to stand in their path. Adrenaline drove them to the treeline, panting breath heavy and loud, as they climbed upon their horses and took off into the night—leaving behind the bloody assassination of the Lord of the Eastemnet Tower.

…..

Weeks later, at three in the morning, the trio stumbled into The Black Falcon Tavern, where they first met with Percaric. The establishment was eerily quiet, save for the slumbering figure of the barkeep, who had succumbed to the late hour with his head on the counter. At the far end of the room, Percaric and Calista's mother stood, their figures illuminated by a flickering candle on the table. An air of anxious anticipation clung to the atmosphere.

As soon as their feet crossed the threshold, that stillness was disturbed. Calista's voice pierced the quiet as she called out to her mother, her strength visibly renewed since the ordeal. Without hesitation, mother and daughter closed the distance between themselves, embracing as if they had been torn apart for eternity. Tears flowed freely, mingling sorrow with joy. The warmth of their reunion dispelled the darkness that had clouded their lives.

Percaric approached the Scorpion and the Ranger.

The assassin tossed the man Lord Theovail’s ring. “Proof of death,” she stated bluntly. “I was gonna bring you his head, but figured it would smell pretty rotten after the long journey.”

He nodded awkwardly, the thought making him feel ill. He took a quick moment to examine the ring. Seemingly satisfied, he spoke. “You did well. Lord Kassim sends his thanks.” He then tossed them both pouches of gold before turning back to the mother and daughter. As Percaric prepared to take Calista and her mother back home, he turned back to the two rescuers. His voice carried a sentiment with his words. "Thank you."

Aragorn's silent nod and the Scorpion's subtle acknowledgment conveyed their understanding and their shared commitment to a world that often demanded their sacrifice.

With that, Percaric, Calista, and her mother left the inn, leaving the assassin and the ranger alone.

“Well,” (Y/N) began, as she walked towards the snoring barkeep and leaned over the counter, fishing for the room keys. “I don't know about you, but I could do with a good night’s rest.” She pulled the ring from his waist and turned back to Aragorn. Holding it up, one key dangling, her grin faded. “You're kidding, right?” She shook her head with a huff but turned and made her way to the rickety stairs. “As long as you stay on your side of the bed this time, Strider—”

“Scorpion,” he interrupted as he followed her.

The wood creaked under her feet. “I am serious. Keep yourself in check—”

“Scorpion.”

“I will not hesitate to paralyze you—”

“(Y/N)!”

She froze upon the stairs, slowly turning to look at him on the step directly below her. Now they stood at the same height, face to face, only inches away from each other.

“You almost died out there,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against her skin.

“Yeah, so did you. It happens,” she shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

“(Y/N),” he persisted.

“What?!”

With that, he grasped onto her face, his finger warm and calloused from the lifetime of travel and battle. Time seemed to freeze as the moment lingered, the air changing between them.

And then, his lips were on hers.

At first, a sense of uncertainty held her still, her mind grappling to comprehend the sudden intimacy. But as his touch deepened and the kiss became a dance, she surrendered to the moment. Her fingers found their way into his hair, tangling themselves among the dark waves, as her lips moved with just as much force—if not more—as his. He tasted of pine and fresh soil, she wast sure if she quite literally was consuming the dirt upon his face, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop herself from becoming enthralled by his lips.

“Scorpion,” he mumbled against her mouth.

She hummed a reply as her lips continued to move with his.

“Room. Now,” he practically growled.

She grinned, her teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Make me.”

Aragorn pulled away from her, raising his brow with a smirk. With that, he grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up. Her mouth found his again as he stumbled up the stairs, ignorant to the barkeep who woke and was now squinting at the pair.

“The Scorpion and Strider,” the old man huffed. “The boys aren't gonna believe this one.”

Everything Tag: @scxundress @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @idiotic-canadian @hey-its-nonny @angelxnaa @bisexualdragongirl @mirclealignr @edensgarnden @elizabeth-anya-knight @sydney-1209 @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @awarwithinitself @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird333-blog @angelgracesworldofchaos @desert-fern @hellsitegivemeafreeusername @galadaelin @glorfindelofgondolin @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @tpwkcalli @hemera1227 @sotwk @007gogabi @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnoteastasian-deactivate @mgchaser @heavenshumour

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @Brethil13 @insert-random-blog @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene

Aragorn tag: @dark-angel-is-back @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @abandoncloud9 @imagine-the-fanfics-main

If your tag is not hot/clickable please reach out to me. I will be removing them from the list soon.

add yourself to my taglist

[lumineary-arts]

Hey, I just wanted to pop in and say: I love your art. Something about your style is just extra pleasing to the eyes with how smooth it is. I've especially enjoyed your swap au, I love the way you don't do typical stuff like making the DDs stay having the yellow eye color and instead replacing it with Doll's red. Because I love your swap au so much

I MADE A FANFIC!

I would put the link but ao3 is weird and won't let me unless I use the share button which doesn't work for this.

If you want to find it, it's titled "Confessions of a Mask" by OldManJenkins985.

Sorry if I got some of the characterization wrong, particularly with Uzi since I wasn't really sure how she would be as a disassembly drone. Thad is...well I feel bad for him :( also Tessa may be too supportive? Idk just based on what was said of her I felt like that might be the case but again I wasn't really sure how a worker drone Tessa would act exactly.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and keep making awesome artwork. Every single piece is amazing in it's own way.

OH DUDE I REALLY LOVE THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND CHECKING THIS ONE OUT!! It's always crazy to me when people write fics based off of the au, it makes me so happy y'all don't understand. This one especially. But god, that ending with T is so depressing, I just want good things for him. Amazing job with this!! :( <333

[clairelsonao3]

Any Writers tried BookTok?

As some of you know, at some point in the New Year, I plan to self-publish a romance ebook. Over the next few months, I hope to start putting some more infrastructure in place to promote it for when the time comes to send out arcs, etc. I already have friends and supporters on Tumblr and A03, which is a great start. But of course, everyone says BookTok is the place to be, especially for romance writers. But I'm hesitating for a few reasons, which are:

Will I get canceled? To make a long story short, the book deals with topics that are not only dark but could be seen as controversial -- and are liable to be attacked by people who don't care that the book is the exact opposite of what they think it is and simply like canceling things based on certain phrases in titles, blurbs or loglines. Tumblr and Ao3, with a few unfortunate exceptions, have been mostly, blissfully free of these people, but BookTok strikes me as someplace that might have a lot of them. Idk, maybe I'm wrong. And if someone does try to cancel me, will I be able to handle it by simply refusing to engage?

I don't want to and can't really show my face for mostly professional reasons. (I like my face just fine, just not for TikTok!) I can use my own voice and, like, my hands or, something, but face is a no-go. Will I be severely hurting my chances of getting any eyeballs on my posts?

Is the culture toxic or likely to harm my mental health? No amount of promotion is worth something that's going to traumatize or hurt me (see above about cancellation). And if my work and/or my characters are hurt, I'm hurt. I've encountered toxicity on social media before and have largely stepped away from it, with Tumblr being the main exception because the community here is so wonderful.

Will it be too much of a time commitment? I know they suggest posting once a day, which seems like a lot, especially if it involves creating and editing original posts. And really anything that's going to take more than, say, 20 minutes out of my day (unless of course I really enjoy it, like I do Tumblr) is too much of a time commitment, in my opinion.

So, that said, I would love to hear from anyone who has experience with BookTok, especially writers of romance and ESPECIALLY writers of "dark," edgy, and/or controversial romance. Should I just try it for, say, a few weeks and see how I like it? (I have never used TikTok before, ever, so it would mostly just be getting a feel for it). Is that even possible?

Thank you for any opinions, anecdotes, or nuggets of wisdom anyone can offer!

[fangbangerghoul]

Fleeting Pleasures

Chapter 9: bad decisions WC: 5713 The aftermath of chapter 8 and how Ghoul and Sam are moving forward with themselves.

Special shout out to @bearlytolerant for being supportive of my woes and my writing(i cry so much to her idk how she still loves me), @spookyspecterino for the A+++ Delgado advice and being so real about the direction of the chapter (seriously I wish I could hire you), @booburry for hyping me up and always sharing your lovely ideas/advice(and giving me Gale meals this past week), and @atonalginger for being an early beta reader!

I know I literally just told y'all I was on hiatus, but I woke up this morning and the large wall that was preventing me from finishing this chapter came crashing down and an array of bricks and ideas filled my skull until my eyes shot lasers.

Fleeting Pleasures was originally only going to be 10 chapters with a bonus chapter at the end but guess what?! The story had other things to say about that. Now Fleeting Pleasures is going to be 11 chapters and a bonus chapter. As long as I keep the momentum this story might be wrapped up before Valentine's Day, which will just be perfect. (no that is not sarcasm...maybe)

I want to thank all of those who have stuck it out throughout the series. It warms my heart when I see so much of this Delgado and Ghoul in other fics and it's amazing how silly little fics can inspire others. Especially since this is my first long running story. I can't believe this started way back in October and Ghoul as a whole character way back in September!

I hope you all enjoy. I think I can literally say I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this. Under the cut will be a snippet but the rest will be on Ao3 which the link is within the title of the post.

“Good morning, Sam! Have you been sleeping better since Noel gave you that herbal tea to try?” He asked so casually about a subject Sam had never remembered mentioning to him. Normally he would have shrugged it off but this time it irked him in particular. The members of Constellation were more prone to talk to him in soft voices or speak about his business more openly when he wasn’t around. It made his skin crawl.  

“No.” Sam said plainly, staring Barret down for a moment before relaxing his shoulders. He was trying to get comfortable around those he considered family again. However the transition from consistently raiding and interrogating Crimson Fleet members to having normal mundane conversation was an adjustment. “Good morning though.” 

Sam walked past him, careful not to bump into Barrett as he walked by. He didn’t like it when someone brushed against his left side even after the wound had fully healed. Sam also didn’t like to think about that fact so he just kept on moving. He was ready to eat. 

On his way to the eating area he stopped by his room one more time to grab a mahogany robe to wrap around his loose white tee and baggy gray sweatpants. The elastic sometimes didn’t stay around his hips and would occasionally sag so in order to protect everyone around him from seeing the moon so early in the day he liked to wear his robe. His slippers dragged a bit as he walked like he was taking a sunday stroll through a park. Sam was never in a hurry to get anywhere, to do anything really. 

“Dad!” He heard the young squeak of his daughter from around the corner and Cora ran up to him and hugged him tight. He winced instinctively but tried to catch himself so she wouldn’t think she hurt him. Her curls were bouncing and wild and the smile on her face was brighter than any star he had seen in a long while. Seeing Cora always gave him a little bit of his life back especially after being separated from her for as long as they were. 

“Hey sweet pea.” He rubbed her back gently in the embrace and kept his arm around her as he led them forward. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Dad it’s noon.” 

“Oh, what are you doing up so late then?” He smiled at her teasingly.  

“Daaaad.” She said in protest as she pushed herself away from him gently. “Were you going to come to the meeting later today?”

“Meeting?” He was puzzled at her question. Sam didn’t know of any meeting, not one that needed to involve him. 

“Ms. Morgan was talking to Walter earlier and I heard them say when Andreja and Vlad arrive they were going to have a discussion.” Cora said with a bit of concern in her tone. Sam knew if she had heard that much then she was all too aware that the meeting was about Ghoul. 

“Is that so?” He asked with a cool tone trying not to give away any concern he may have felt. He still didn’t have the heart to tell Cora that Ghoul did this to him. Even though the other’s had continued their recent pattern of talking about his well being behind his back he figured how much further would that subject be? 

“Yeah! Dad, what are you eating for late breakfast?”

“Cheese pizza if you are asking.”

[ashturnedtomist]

Keep it Covert: Ch.0

Prologue

@morgansplace came up with the title. everyone say thank you.

Summary: in which, things are not kept covert.

Next Chapter

TW: panic, cursing, force, Geordi starts to have a panic attack but you don’t really see anything

Read it on Ao3 too :)

Based off of this post

Morgan sighed, knitting his brows together.

Standing before him was the only other Seer Obscura that he knew existed, and they were exhausted.

“Can we just…take a break? Please?” They were working on honing their abilities and they had worn out their core.

“That’s fine, just sit down,” he gestured to the couch. He slumped down beside them, undoing his tie and turning on the TV. He flipped to a random news channel.

He froze.

‘-American government has already started making plans and precautions against this unknown threat. The leaked documents call them, ‘empowered.’

Morgan leaned forward, his heart pounding.

“Morgan?” He glanced at his trainee. “What-what does that mean?”

He shakes his head, his eyes trained on the screen. “I-I don’t know.”

‘We know little about these people. Where did they come from? How long have they been living among us? And, are they a danger?’

———

“Shit,” James muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

His phone had been ringing off and on for the past half hour.

“Your stress levels are elevated.” Asset sat to the side, eyeing their superior.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” he muttered bitterly. They hummed in acknowledgment. “What has happened?”

James sighed, bracing his hands on his desk. “The Department was exposed.”

Asset tilted their head to the side. “What does that mean?” James looked up at them. “It means-” his phone rings again. “That the unempowereds know we exist.”

Ring.

“Which means our entire project could be shut down.”

Ring.

“Which means you could be shut down.”

Ring.

They stare at him blankly before looking away. “I see.”

Ring.

“God damn it!” He flung his phone across the room, a shattering sound echoing across the empty walls.

Asset looked around for a moment before facing him.

“Take my memory card.”

He looked up at them again. “What?”

“Take my memory card.” They repeat. “Or at least make a copy. That way, if they shut me down, you will at least have a way to put my memories somewhere else. Maybe you could make me again. Somehow.”

A glimmer of their old personality shone in their eyes. James swallowed thickly. “Okay…okay. We can-we can do that.”

———

Geordi was exhausted. He’d had a long day.

First, his internet went out, and so did his cable. So he had to get that fixed.

Then he phone broke, so he had to get that done too.

And when he finally turned his phone on when he got home, he was bombarded with messages and calls.

15 unread messages from Guy

3 missed calls from Guy

5 unread messages from “Honey”

2 missed calls from “Honey”

1 missed call from Cutie

1 unopened voicemail from Cutie

His stomach dropped. What happened?

Cutie hadn’t contacted him in weeks, let alone Guy’s partner. They were friends, sure, but not that good of friends.

Geordi swallowed thickly as he opened his messages

Guy

dude

where are you

have you read the news

do it asap

wait

maybe dont

well it might be better if you do

honey says you should

but idk

just do it

please

and dont panic

unless you heard something from them

then maybe you can panic

im definitely panicking

“Honey”

Read the news. Now.

I don’t care what you’re doing.

This is more important.

Ignore Guy. He’s in a bad headspace right now.

Check the news.

Geordi scrambled to open his news app. His eyes scanned the screen until he found what they could be talking about.

Friends or Foes? Who are these ‘empowereds?’

Geordi almost dropped his phone. He quickly scanned through the article, his heart rate picking up with every word he read. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He quickly checked his voicemail.

‘U-um, hey Geordi, I know I haven’t checked in in awhile but-‘

Something cuts them off. They sound like they’re crying.

‘S-sorry about that. Um, anyway, I just wanted to get this message out to you in case you don’t hear from me for awhile. I’m sure you’ve seen the news.’

Geordi bit his lip. So that’s what this was about.

‘I lost my job! Well, I think I did. Things are kind of a mess over here-’

Their voice cuts out.

‘-don’t know what’s gonna happen now. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I just- I-I love you, okay?”

Their voice grows more tearful.

‘I love you and I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better partner to you. I’ve been trying so hard to get better. So hard. I don’t know when you’ll see me or hear from me next, so…’

They sniffle

‘I love you. Goodbye, Geordi.’

His phone clatters to the floor. He slides down the wall as his breathing grows heavy.

“No. No, no, no, no…”

———

Angel hums to themself as they mess around on their switch, Minecraft lighting up their screen. They had just finished building a house for themself and their dog when their phone went off. It was David.

“Hey, Davey, what’s-”

“I’m coming home. Don’t check the news. Just-just wait for me.”

“What? David, what’s-”

“Just wait.”

Beeping sounded in their ear, signaling that he had hung up.

Angel couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach

———

Aaron pressed a heated kiss to his partner’s lips. “I’ll teach you to talk back, Smartass.” They giggled against his mouth, moving to unbutton his shirt when his phone went off. They whined as he pulled away. He chucked. “Hold on, it’s Elliott.”

He pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Flustered shouting could be heard from the other line.

“Woah, woah, woah, Elliott. What’s going on?”

As his brother chattered on from the other line, Aaron grew pale.

He hung up the phone.

“Aaron? What’s wrong?” Smartass clambered onto his lap. “What happened?”

He took their hands into his. He was shaking.

“The human government knows about empowereds.”

——-

It was supposed to be a good day. An amazing day. They were gonna finish work, pick up dinner, and cuddle Aggro until Milo got home so they could eat and watch a movie.

It was great.

But now, they were hiding under their desk while sirens wailed above them, and black military boots stomped by.

It all happened so fast.

One moment, they were talking to their coworker about their latest therapy session, and how they were going to reach out to their boyfriend again, and the next, the emergency sirens were going off and government troops stormed the halls.

They huddled under the protective covering of their desk, trying not to make too much noise.

Their phone started vibrating. They scrambled to silence it.

‘God damn it, Milo.’

A gloved hand reached under the desk and pulled them out.

“What a sweet little thing you are.”

Sweetheart yanks their arm away. “Get the hell off me.”

The man in front of them scoffs and says, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. A lot of your colleagues have slipped away, but we have a few in holding.”

“Slipped away, huh?” Sweetheart says. “Well,” They look him up and down. “I guess they didn’t tell you how stealthy I can be.”

“What do you-” The man cuts himself off as Sweetheart disappears from his sight.

———

“Come on, Damien. I promise it doesn’t taste that bad.” Freelancer begged. Damien looked at the meal in front of him that Gavin had made. Everyone around him insisted that he try it.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad, Dames.”

“R-really, it’s good. Gavin outdid himself.”

The incubus in question leaned in close to the fire elemental.

“Please? For me? Don’t make me beg, Damien.”

Damien’s cheeks flushed a fiery red. “Fine. If it’ll get you out of my face.” Just as he went to go take a bite, Gavin’s phone rang.

“Ah…just a moment.” Gavin rose from his seat. “Don’t eat any just yet, I want to see the delectable look on your face when you try it!” He called before he disappeared out the door.

Freelancer furrowed their brows. What was that about?

They filled the time that Gavin was gone with casual conversation and some banter here and there. After about 15 minutes, Gavin came back inside.

He came back into the room, looking pale.

“Gavin?” Freelancer stood up. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Turn on the news.” Everyone looked at each other. “Now.”

Notes: Geordi and Guy are friends

Honey and Cutie are friends

Honey is also empowered bc I said so 😍

Also: this will be centered around an idea I came up with, so stay tuned.

[ablogofsapphicpanic]

If you're taking more prompts how about 2. I never thought we’d have a last kiss. For Helion x LOA please. 😊 Thank you.

What's this? Me answering this literally months later and in the middle of the night because I can't sleep and got a stroke of muse for it? More likely than you think.

I hope you enjoy it! It is angsty but lmao, look at the prompt you sent. Idk what people usually put before these so I'm going to shut up now.

Edit: Posted to Ao3 here!

Helion hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking. There truly weren’t many options for where to go in this wretched place, and even fewer places where there was any inkling of privacy. Not that he expected much these days, with all of Prythian’s courts trapped here by Amarantha. For five years they had suffered Under the Mountain, their people suffered on the surface, with no sign of freedom from the only person who could give it to them.

His absent wandering, probably a poor idea on his part, brought him to an empty room - or nearly empty. It was the red hair that caught his eye first, red hair that had been taunting him for five years now. But what stopped him in his tracks was the russet eyes meeting his for more than a fleeting second. That hadn’t happened for much longer than five years, and it caught him off guard.

The owner of said eyes was seemingly caught off guard as well from the way they widened almost immediately as the door shut behind him, leaving them alone together in the room. She was so close to him, closer than they had been in decades. Since she had left him in the middle of the night and never come back. How they had been found out by Beron, he still didn’t know, but he knew it had happened. What else could explain the sudden shift in her? In them?

“Excuse me, High Lord,” she murmured, breaking his train of thought as she tried to step around him, either not noticing the door on the other end of the room, or wanting to take the quickest exit possible.

Unbidden, his hand reached out and caught Tana’s wrist. His fingers overlapped as his hand closed around the smooth skin there, but his grip was loose enough that she could break it by simply continuing to walk. She didn’t, but she didn’t turn back to look at him again. “High Lord?” he asked, intending for the words to come out teasing, but he knew the hurt broke through. “I don’t recall you ever being so formal with me when -” when we were alone.

“Things were different then, and you didn’t bear the title yet,” Tana replied when he couldn’t finish the sentence, still not looking at him. “High Lord, this is hardly the time or the place for this.”

She was right. They were alone, but that didn’t always mean something down here. The warning in her words was obvious, but he couldn’t stop himself as his thumb trailed light circles over her wrist, disappearing under the deep purple fabric of her sleeve before coming back down to brush over the pulse point there. “And yet, it might be the only place I get to do this. This is as alone as we’ve been for centuries now.”

“Whatever there once might have been, it can hardly continue. Especially not here, not now. Our business together is done, High Lord. I suggest you come to terms with that fact.”

“Business? Is that what you consider our time together?” Helion asked, this time not even trying to mask the hurt as anything else. “Tana, I don’t know what happened, what changed, but it’s not too late -”

“You’re right, you don’t,” she interrupted, finally turning back to face him. But she still didn’t break his grip. It almost seemed as if she shifted closer to him as she turned, so she wouldn’t break it. Like she needed that touch as much as he did. “You don’t know what happened, so you should refrain from making any promises. What we had was a mutually beneficial arrangement, nothing more, that is over now.”

“Nothing more?” he repeated, somewhat indignantly, his eyes searching her face. Her expression remained cold and guarded, and he knew he was showing too much of himself. He never could help it with her. “It certainly seemed like it was more to me - and to you.”

It had been the wrong thing to say by the way something in Tana’s expression snapped. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened, and there was a drawn out silence as she regarded him again. “Whatever it was, it no longer is. Nor will it ever be again,” she said, but there was something behind the cold words that gave his stupid heart that belonged wholly to the female in front of him a spark of hope.

Helion took a half a step closer, allowing himself more of that foolish hope when she didn’t move away in response. His eyes were locked on her expression again, but they dropped down to her lips when they parted in surprise. He forced them back up to meet hers before he spoke again. “I never thought we’d have a last kiss,” he whispered.

Her eyes shuttered in response to his confession, and though she still looked at him, it was as if she refused to see him. “Everything comes to an end. This already has.”

“Tana…” Helion had to actively refrain from tightening his grip. What had he expected? For her to correct him? To say that they hadn’t? That the time would come for their next? He was a fool, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I just want to make things right. To do things right by you.”

“What’s done is done, Helion,” she said. And damn him if hearing Tana say his name after all those years didn’t almost bring him to his knees. “You’d do well to give up on - on the past.” On me, she had been about to say, and he knew it. Just like he knew there was something she was holding back from him, something different from the piece of herself she had always held back before. He regarded her silently, like he might figure out what it was.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she all but demanded when he was silent a beat too long. A force to be reckoned with as she all but expected he change how he saw her in a moment, all because she told him to. She always had been, from the moment they’d met at that fateful ball. He had known then she would be his undoing, but his young, foolish self couldn’t have ever imagined this being how.

“You telling me to give up isn’t going to suddenly make me.” His free hand reached up before she could answer again, and reiterate the words he couldn’t stand to hear again. He couldn’t help himself as his knuckles brushed over her cheek and lingered there. “Let me help you. Whatever it is that you don’t want to ask of me, ask. Please. I know there’s something you won’t say. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I thought you knew that.” Her eyes closed for the briefest of seconds as she gave into his touch, whatever barriers she had put up against him beginning to crumble.

Only for them to snap back into place in an instant as the door behind him started to open. Helion turned to look the moment he heard the doorknob twist, his hand falling from her face. She took advantage of his momentary distraction - though he would have let her leave the second she tried to pull away - before the door even cracked an inch, his other hand was closed around empty air. 

When he turned back to look at her, his mouth opening like he might protest, all he saw was a flash of long red hair and purple skirts before the door snapped shut with a resounding click.

[quinloki]

I’m on shark week and I had a thought I can’t stop thinking about

Let’s say someone form our world is put into one piece BUT one piece logic stays the same

Acne? Phhhshhh what’s that?

Periods? God no!

Hell, maybe even dead skin(like when you shower and you can scratch and bits come off(I promise I shower everyday))

Even your biology is different than theirs

The doctors of op are going to have a field day with you. Specifically law, fucking law man. He’d Likely have your front body cut in half so he can see everything and make notes/research.You take a nap and when you wake up he’s sitting at his desk studying your liver.

Marco? Pain relief. If he’s free you bet your ass he’s gonna be there, one hand being encompassed in healing flame the other holding his book. The nurses are definitely going to take interest but their main focus is pops so they won’t have that much time with you.

I don’t know how to write chopper and idk who kids doc is butttttt

When you bleed through your pants and someone points it out they are mainly concerned (only slightly) and eventually you have to explain that yes you’re okay. No you don’t have anything wrong with you. I think I’d be a….interesting conversation at first though killer would take over when kid was done.

What I do know is you’d definitely get good at making re usable pads

You could also tell them about the lead in tampons…..lol

-💧

my absolute favorite fic where it’s different is “Suprise, you ruined everything” - by hippy Mindy on ao3. It’s not the main focus but it’s mentioned and there are themes.(yes, I know the title sounds cringy)

I was up at like six my time and it’s almost 10am and my brain is finally awake enough to form thoughts. It’s apparently going to be a slow day for me xD

Surprise, You Ruined Everything is a pretty popular fic lately. I’ve heard about it from a lot of different friends and it’s getting solid reviews ^_^ I love the title actually xD there’s layers to it that delight me all on it’s own.

I will admit to being a little down cause isekai OP fix-it story was something I had planned - but! I’mma still do my version of it eventually too. Cause that’s one of the joys of fan fic and community - my version will be different ^_^ no one ever complained about two cakes 🎂

I haven’t read it yet, but I might do that today. I’m working and there’s not much to do between it being near to the end of the month plus crowdstrike.

Now, onto the meat - I love the idea that “if we don’t see it is doesn’t exist” as part of world building. No periods, no acne, etc. XD some people just don’t have body hair at all 😂

That would be a lot of fun to play with. Man no periods means no cramps. By the gods I could go for that.

I love your head canons too - I don’t have anything to add to that. I’d 1000000000% abuse Marco for pain relief.

[batrachised]

tagged by @professionalfangrrl for a twenty questions, fanfic author game!

1-How many works do you have on AO3?

For lm montgomery, three. For star wars, 38.

2-What's your total AO3 word count?

LMM: 14,467. Star Wars: 376,710 [i might have a problem]

3-What fandoms do you write for?

I'll leave you detective sherlocks to work that out

4-What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I've only written 3 lm montgomery fics, and there the top kudos one is sob of fall and song of forest (fun fact: that title is a line from an E. Paulina Johnson poem, whom I discovered LM Montgomery liked after the fact)

5-Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

sweats nervously listen...listen....let me tell you something! let me tell you something! i'm a good noodle!

after being unsure when i first started writing, i used to respond to comments religiously because I thought it was nice. then, idk what happened, I think i got busy and stopped doing so right away...and then I waited even longer....and then as a result i barely ever responded to comments and now, after compiling over like the course of a year, my ao3 inboxes have a combined unresponded comments of too many comments to deal with😅

6-What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i feel like this is the only fic i ever mention because I've written so few lmm ones, but Violets - fic about Walter's death. i did once write this sad fic that had a very fluffy lead-up, and it always makes me cackle maniacally like an evil scientist when I get comments on the beginning chapters of people being like "omg this is cute :D" and then them reaching the end and proceeding to scream at me in rage via the comments - the happy-sad switch is something I've used in my writing more than once, and I always enjoy it

7-What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

A lot of my fics are crack and thereby necessitate happy endings, no one stands out as being more happy than another

8-Do you get hate on fics?

I have like, one time? and it just made me laugh tbh, it was one my first fic and I was like I'VE MADE IT ONLINE! I HAVE HATERS! 😎

9-Do you write smut? If so what kind?

nope, at least not intentionally (yes it's accidentally happened before - never forget). I tend to avoid romance in general (she says, having about 8 different romantic stories) because writing it is not for me. if I do I tend to make it silly/humorous

10-Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

nope, in general I'm not a crossover person. the only fandom where i actually got really into (reading) crossovers was merlin with harry potter, eons ago, all the more funny because I was never a harry potter fan

11-Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yup, although they did credit me. I've written about it before, but one time I had a fic stolen and put up on some website that appeared to be russia's version of ao3. Had a lot of fun translating comments on that one via google translate

12-Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes a couple of times. one time someone asked to translate my fic and I was like sure, just send me the link when you're done! :D and they did and it was short, so I just typed it in instead of copying except I misremembered whether it was a .org or .com and typed the wrong one and accidentally ended up on a porn website that apparently had a nearly identically domain and was like WHY DID THEY DO THIS TO ME D: DID THEY PUT MY FIC HERE D: IT DOESN'T BELONG HERE D: IS THIS A SPAM LINK only to refer back ot the comment and realize my fingers had betrayed me

13-Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

nope, all me and the workings of my incredibly silly mind

14-What's your all-time favourite ship?

don't have one! not a super shippy person anymore, although I used to be! sometimes I read romance fic but it's usually because I feel like reading romance, not because of the ship itself

15-What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

idk man, I've tried abandoning wips before but my brain doesn't let me. one time i abandoned a fic and then months later, i got the answer to the issue i'd been stuck on in a dream (or at least, upon waking in the middle of the night)

16-What are your writing strengths?

not gonna answer this one because (to me) it feels like a job interview question where you have to paste on a fake smile and talk about all the ways you're great while cowering inside. i like my writing and actually rarely experience the whole reading it over and seeing where it could have been better, not because I think my work is just that amazing, but because I don't really have that fine-tuned writer/artist brain that would give me an interesting answer to this question. i do this for fun, and for free, and for me lmao

17-What are your writing weaknesses?

PLOTTING OUT OUTLINES this one I can answer because I never do this enough and then I always end up several chapters into a fic trying to make it go somewhere that makes sense like

18-Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

nope, i don't know another language well enough. i'm so paranoid that when I make up space names for my star wars fic I always google the fake word to make sure it's not a dirty/offensive word in another language 💀it's saved me before.

19-First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars, about a year and a half ago! It's been cool to see how different my writing has become in that short period of time!

20-Favorite fic you've ever written?

always the last one published or the ones that got the least attention. i loved them <3

tagging @gogandmagog @no-where-new-hero @kehlana-wolhamonao3 @kingedmundsroyalmurder

[deleetrix]

Ask Game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)

Oh this is a tough question, some of my responses might be a little… ambiguous? I’ll just write what comes to mind first.

Also! I’m too nervous to send this to anyone! So! If you see this, it’s your turn to do this.

1. Cheese! I love cheesy foods! Cheese quesadillas, pizza, mac n cheese, straight up shredded cheese, etc. I just… really like cheese?

2. My cats! I have six cats. Though one of them is extremely attached to me. Yuki! She’ll whine if I’m behind a closed door, she’ll snuggle up to me at night, and also bother me at night if I don’t give her the attention she wants. I still love her though (even if she drives me a little crazy sometimes).

3. Art! It can be so relaxing sometimes. Sometimes art has been a good way for me to let feelings out. Like via my character Del. She’s just a character but she makes me so happy sometimes.

4. Games! Well I haven’t played games much lately but they’ve always been a fun part of my life. I like watching videos of games, and sometimes I do get around to playing them. I need to get a 2 week Minecraft phase going… or play some Zelda games. Idk!

5. Anime (and I guess cartoons too?). I feel like I watch a lot of anime. I think my favorite right now is That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime. Yes, weird title. It’s a good anime though. I’m enjoying the festival arc and I go crazy for the opening song/animation each time I see it. The transitions between scenes in the opening are SO satisfying. Fbjskakso

Oh!! One more addition, I can’t believe I forgot! Fan fics! It’s become a nightly routine to read fan fics on Ao3! They make me happy. I don’t read any fics besides Zelda fics though haha.

[fleamontsoleil]

Hello people!

My name's Kordian.

I'm a guy who fell in love with stories at a young age, and decided to make their life about them.

I’m a genderqueer, bisexual mess born on april 15th, which makes me:

an aries

using they/he pronouns,

coming from poland, 

speak polish, english and basic german, spanish, french and danish, which means i can wish you a happy birthday and order coffee, and also talk about the weather and describe my outfit, but i will not get into the depths of quantum physics. 

i’m also autistic.

more info lower!

Other random things about me:

i love writing

lemons, ginger, cinnamon, pears, pasta

i have a sweet tooth

i’m getting back into drawing and watercolour painting

i love flowers, my favourite one being a carnation

i’m basically 24/7 in headphones, music always on

i like learning new languages (if you haven’t figured that out yet)

i enjoy reading, watching movies and tv shows

i can play on ukulele and i’m getting better at guitar and bass

i love stickers and pins

kinda obsessed with angels and religious symbolism while being an atheist, idk how i did that

i can trauma dump without realising, sorry for that

i love sticking things to my walls

and also telling stories

travelling

coffee

chocolate

green

robin williams

On this blog, I reblog/post things related to writing and relatable things I see. Sometimes share a snippet of my writing or freak about an idea I'm having. I’m thinking about separating this side blog into two, one for fanfic (this one), and one for my original work (with my pen name) but idk. Maybe when I have more time.

What do I write?

I write mostly fiction and fantasy, usually gory.

I write things that are inspired by things I know. I have a great imagination, which sometimes is not so fun, but when I write it's really useful. I can sit in any place and make it into a story.

All my works include queer representation.

Some of my works might be graphic, but I will put trigger warnings before any of them.

My current works:

If it comes to longer WIPs, I am used to working on one/two at once, but giving it my whole attention for the time of writing. Even though I can read seven books at once, I can't write them at once.

I also write a lot of short stories, but I will not be listing them here.

"The Tangled Sun" (working title) - a fantasy novel (1st dratf) tag: wip : tts queer, pirates, magic

Fanfiction:

"Darksun" (working title) - a post apocalyptic novel(1st draft) tag: wip : darksun angels, queer, gore, horror

you can find me under cowboymorpheus on ao3

All of Us, Strangers - an AOUS deancas AU 24,095 words “How do you cope?” he asks. “With what?” “Listen?” he says, almost asks, and sticks the hand with the bottle up, one finger pointing at the ceiling. Dean doesn’t hear anything. The silence fills the entire space. “It’s so quiet,” he says, and his voice is slightly broken up, as if he’s mourning the sound that isn’t present. “The city’s out there, but we can’t hear a fucking thing.” Castiel leans even closer, as if he was about to tell Dean his deepest, darkest secret, and Dean backs away. His hand tightens on the doorknob. “I play music, but it’s worse when it ends. I even bought one of those white-noise machines. It’s like someone’s in the corner of the room, whispering about me. We can’t even open the windows, but I guess they don’t want us to jump.” he pauses for a while. “Bad for business. Broken bodies on the concrete. Who’s gonna move in then?” he asks, but he doesn’t expect an answer.

Dean Cas Big Bang fic - estimated word count 27k

-----

on the road - WHICH IS A WORKING TITLE - estimated word count is 60k After John dies, Dean has no more reasons to be trapped in his hometown. With the encouragement of his friends and family, he hits the road, where he meets new people and learns new things about himself, finally being able to explore himself as much as he always wanted to. Not having to hide, being able to just be his own person is something he didn't know he would ever be able to do. Little does he know, it's only the beginning of the good things to happen.

stained white roses - a darkfic basically

My other account is @cowboymorpheus. you'll probably find out some more on the intro post there. It's where I reblog and sometimes post fandom stuff, here it's just, I don't know. Writing, ao3 and the rest of random stuff like that.

That's pretty much all. Like I said, I'm open to new conversations, so don't hesitate to message me or send asks anytime. And I'm ask/tag game friendly!

Have a nice one!

[borom1r]

@theshakespearetrash answerin this over here bestie!! anywayz:

👍- What was the first piece of creative writing you ever did? How do you feel about it now?

LMFAO. good fuckin question. ive got some old shit in my gdrive still that i cant stand to look at. if u can find my cringe ass ffnet acct (I’ve linked it on here somewhere I shan’t be linking it again) u can read some of my high school fanfics

idk what was specifically the FIRST thing i ever wrote was + while i might not be a fan of any of it now, i also think it’s important to like. leave old shit up + available bc it really is a good way to show young writers that this is fully a skill u develop. the reason my ffnet still exists is the same reason all my old star wars fics are still up on ao3. if yall ever wanna see how much my writing has developed, read one of those fuckin things + compare it to one of my new LotR fics 😭

anyways yea PSA: if u wanna write just fuckin do it. put it out there or don’t, but write it + keep writing. you’ll improve, whether u realize it or not ✌🏻

🎻- Where do you look when you need some inspiration?

IM A MUSIC GUY. all my recent fics have been titled after song lyrics and that’s bc those are genuinely the songs im looping while i write. if i need reeeeeeally specific vibes for a fic/writing project ill build out a temporary playlist lol

🕳️- Talk about a research rabbit hole you fell down!

UMMMMM u know what ill fuckin count the costuming doc for this. if u wanna see my current descent into madness click here 👍🏻

(there’s like 50+ pages im not summarizing that bitch)

😍- Post one sentence you think is really great.

AGH. ok since its June i feel like i have to post sth transgender (lol), so here's a couple lines i love from a devotional poem i wrote:

Skald, mead-drunk, ecstatic, / Isn’t building a body poetry too?

Also, sth from an old piece of prose journalling I'm still fond of:

How many strangers have taken little pieces of me without understanding what they’ve done? I think about kind men a lot. Do they feel my heart in their hands?