#send me a fic title and ill write the summary

[ilexdiapason]

For the fake fic game:

🐝

Generally, people don't enjoy being murdered

generally people don't enjoy being murdered by diapason

In which Jack Manifold has a terrible day, and nobody seems to care. (How could Tommy's week possibly have been worse?)

[bekkachaos]

Fic title! Beneath Stars and Into Night

💕

I actually have a fic that's a Wip I have titled "if I was the night you were the moon" for Buddie which made me think of this, and it's Buck coming to talk to Eddie in his room being super insecure and Eddie's just sleepy and honest and tells buck how wonderful he is, and this made me think of that

So that would be my fic!

[harrystylesfan2686]

Battle

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You and Rhys talk things out after he refuses to let you go into hybern war.

A/N: hehe First Rhysand fic. I love this. Also I'm so bad at writing titles you guys I swear. Please tell me a better title so I can change this one.

Masterlist

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"Are you kidding me?!" You yell the second you enter Rhysands tent, knowing full well the anybody outside can easily here but you don't care.

"You ordered Azriel not to send me out?" You were in the middle of a battle and apparently you High Lord had told his shadowsinger not to give his second in command any assignment.

It only fuled your anger when he answered without looking at you,"Yes I did."

"Do you realize how embarrassing that was for me?"

"Embarrassing?"

"Yes!"

"That's what you're thinking about? How embarrassing it was for you?" His displeasure clear in his voice.

"Yes! Everyone had positions, everyone had tasks and I was just standing there with nothing as my Spymaster told me to stay back because the High Lord ordered him so." The mock in you voice makes him look at you, finally leaving the papers.

"I didn't sent you because I don't want to endanger you. I don't want be on that battle field and worry about you every second. I don't want to be wondering if you are safe or laying there in the pile of bodies where I probably wouldn't be able to find you. So I apologise, if it embarrasses you to stay where you are safe but I wont-," His voice cracks. "I can't see you in danger."

Oh.

The realisation flared your eyes and you look down in an attempt of hiding you surprise.

The two of you had been kind of a pair before he got stuck under the mountain. You loved him, still do but never told him because how can a High Lord love a mere spy like yourself. The two of you were clearing interested in each other before you got the news that he is stuck with Amarantha.

You wanted to go after him, to save him but Azriel had strictly denied you to do so. And when he finally came back, after fifty years, you thought maybe he had moved on. There was no way he could still be interested in the same person after five decades, only you were stupid enough to do so.

So you didn't do anything about it, only keeping things strictly profession after he came back. Until now.

The two of you were silent for a few minutes before he sighed and said in a tone a lot calmer than before,"I'm sorry I shouldn't have talked to you like that."

He puts in hands one his face, resting his elbows on the desk table in front of him, refusing to look at you anymore. You don't know what to say, so you just say the first thing that comes into your mind.

"I thought you and Ferye were..." You trail off, wincing as he looks at you, his expression making you regret your words.

"No, no. We are just allies, that's all. Friends maybe but not anything more." He looks physically ill at the thought of them together and your lips curl upward a little. He then again looks down, can't seem to look at you for more than a minute.

You slowly walk upto him, standing beside him and turning him around by his shoulders to look at you. "Rhysand, I understand that you fear for me but I'm Azriel's second, I can look after myself. I mean being the Spymaster's second has to mean that I'm good at surviving, right?"

His violet eyes look for your reaction as he gently tugs you to him, when you dont push him away, he hugs you. You now stand between his legs, him sitting gives you a small advantage of hieght and he rests his forehead to your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, he sighs. "I just don't want to lose you."

His voice melts you, sounding so small and vulnerable, turning every thought in your head about him. Your hands lift to wrap around him too, one resting on his shoulders and the other gently running fingers through his silky hair.

"I'm going to be alright, Rhysand. You are too, we are going to need every help we can get in this war. And I can't just sit hear worrying about you all, while you go fight for your life out there. I'm a big girl, Rhys, I can handle myself."

He sighs and you know you've won this argument. He lifts his head to look at you with the most serious expression he can master and says,"Fine. But if something happens to you out there, I'm bringing you back, screaming and kicking, even on my shoulder if you don't listen. I'll even tie you to the bed if I have to."

"Promise?" You smirk.

His eyes narrow,"Yes and I'll fuck you senseless after as a punishment for not listening to me."

You laugh, silently agreeing because you're looking forward to doing that either way.

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[yoonia]

foreword: 2023

back to writing ✍️

Happy New Year 2023!! 

I know I’m late for this, but I had to start the new year with a massive hole inside my heart. Last year was a rough ride, and I just want to thank everyone who had been there with me through it all. For those of you who have been following me for years, for those of you who had only found me last year, and for everyone who had just stumbled upon my blog recently, I truly appreciate every single one of you. 

Usually, I would end the past year and start the new with an overview of my journey, but after a hard year, I figured I’ll change things up and simply drop this post to say hi and give you a quick update. Nothing much is going to change in my blog, but I am trying to do my best to grow as a writer, so let’s just say that I have many things to offer. 

Coming into the year, I have set a goal to finish a few of my impending series (eg. About Time, In Motion, Shifters series) while working on to post most of the WIPs that have been sitting in my draft for an entire year. Please be patient with me as I start working on them one at a time. Meanwhile, some of my discontinued series/fics will be taken down and moved into my Patreon, which has been in the process of happening starting from last year. 

For more updates and announcements—whether it’s about my blog, personal, or my writing process—I will be adding them regularly into my Schedule Post. So please always refer to the post mentioned for any questions regarding my update/posting schedules. 

My Patreon is still open with more special contents coming up, and my Ko-Fi is available for those of you who enjoy reading my works and are interested to send some support. You can find all the links on my navigation page.

As a little bonus for everyone, I will be giving you a sneak peek of my WIPs that will be coming this year (aside from the series mentioned above). I’m crossing my fingers while hoping that this year will be much better than the last, and I do hope that you will all be there to join the ride.

Until we meet again.

xoxo, Dia

!!Bonus: Sneak peeks of my upcoming WIPs!!

⟶ Title | Eternal Sunshine - Epilogue for Spotless Minds ⟶ Character | Hoseok x reader ⟶ Genre | Past Lovers!AU, New Beginning, inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Minds (yes, the movie) ⟶ Summary | You had always felt like meeting him was a chance of fate. He had always been the missing piece of the puzzle that you had been searching for, the beautiful stranger who had somehow become your home. But when your soul seems to refuse to stop searching, you begin to find scraps of the past that had somehow gone missing, erased and forgotten, hiding the pain that would have tainted the perfect life that you had built together. Suddenly, you are given a chance to open the pandora box, to collect the missing scraps of your past. Would you dare to open it and risk what you have with him, or would you leave it alone and move on, just the way you had decided to do a long time ago? ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18/Mature

read here

⟶ Title | Alpha’s Inferno ⟶ Pairing | Namjoon x OC/female original character ⟶ Genre | Vampires!au, Werewolf!au, Alpha!Namjoon, Vampire!OC, Smut, Angst ⟶ Summary | Alphas can only be stronger with a mate. Losing his Destined had almost sent Namjoon into the wilderness, to an illness known to shifters as the Mating Sickness. Fighting his illness, the Alpha continues to lead his pack of misfits all on his own since. Facing betrayals, living constantly with distrust, losing his allies, and finding his own pack slowly crumbling into disarray as he slowly succumbs into his sickness. But the war has turned enemies into allies, and hate becomes love, and he wasn’t completely ready to find the Moon Goddess giving him a second chance to find love in the form of the being that he had once distrusted the most. ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature

read teaser here

⟶ Title | Flux: Blindsided - from Flux! the series, final instalment ⟶ Character | Yoongi x reader x Jungkook ⟶ Genre | Polyamorous!AU, Smut, Angst ⟶ Summary | Yoongi never knew that he did not only take your heart and soul when he walked out the door, but Jungkook’s as well. He had left the two of you behind by making you both believe that he was giving things up all due to his fear and insecurities. Little do you know that nothing is truly that simple. And it never really would. ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18/Mature

read teaser here

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Faerie au, Angst, Mystery, Smut ⟶ Summary | Being the only daughter of the Wicked King has kept you living in a sheltered life. Never once you were given the chance to see the world beyond the walls of your father’s old castle, and yet, it had never stopped you from hearing all the dark rumours of your father’s indiscretions which had left you to continue living in the shadows. When the day comes for your father to send you to live in his castle by the sea, he left you with a new rule set in place. You are left with a set of keys, one which would lead you to travel through the thousand magical doors inside his castle, but you are to never leave through the front door or to step foot through the golden door at the end of the hall. (A twist from Bluebeard. Spoiler: the Wicked King is Bluebeard himself) ⟶ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature ⟶ Warnings | Dark topic, explicit sex (more warnings will be added as I continue writing this)

read here

⟶ Title | The Whispers in The Mist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Ghost!Yoongi, Reincarnation au, Angst, Mystery, Smut ⟶ Summary | He first came to you through your dream, luring you to find him, only to always wake up with his shadows fading with the rising sunlight. But when you can still feel his presence in the daylight, when you keep finding traces of his existence wherever you look, you start to wonder if perhaps he is more than just an object of your lucid dream. Perhaps what you have been seeing at night are your forgotten memories, and he is finally here to help you unravel every part of it, until you could finally remember who he really was.   ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; Dark topic, sacrilege, explicit sex scene (more warnings will be added as I continue writing this)

Teaser available on Patreon!

⟶ Title | G.H.O.S.T: The Hacker’s Tale — Carousel side story ⟶ Pairings | Hoseok x OC/female reader (feat. Yoongi/Jungkook) ⟶ Genre | Hacker!Hoseok, Assassin!reader, Detective!Jungkook, CEO Yoongi, angst, suspense, mystery ⟶ Summary | Always have an escape plan. Jung Hoseok has always been the curious boy, too smart for his own good, and has lived on the edge for as long as he could remember. Living in the shadows, he had operated under the name “G.H.O.S.T” and nobody had ever managed to catch his trail. All except for one man, who had not only given him a chance for redemption, but also a reason for him to survive, and you, the shadow that he had overlooked for a long time, but always ready to come out into the light before he gets far too deep into his own darkness.

Teaser 1 is available on Patreon; read teaser 2 here

⟶ Title | Bad For You: Undercover - A Spin-Off ⟶ Character | Taehyung x reader ⟶ Summary | They say only the strongest women can love men like him. You thought you could take the challenge, but what happens when life and everything around you challenge you back? ⟶ Genre | Stripper!au, Stripper!Taehyung, Smut, Angst, Mature theme ⟶ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

⟶ Title | Nefarious; In Motion - a side story ⟶ Character | Jimin x reader | note: with POV changes ⟶ Summary | Welcome to Club La Rouge, where your sexual fantasies come to life. For the past year you have been a member to the club, never once had they failed to help you indulge in your deepest and darkest need, the desire to embrace a part of you that you had never been able to show anyone else before. Tonight, however, you are met with a disappointment when your arranged ‘date’ had bailed on you. But just as you are ready to turn away in defeat, you cross path with the lovely attendant whose gentle gaze and soft smile have always been able to make you fluster more than any dates you have been with. You know that accepting his offer might cause some inconveniences for both of you, but do you really have it in you to say no? ⟶ Genre | Sex Club!au, Gentlemen Club!au, Smut ⟶ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

— © 2023 @yoonia​, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.

[accidentalslayer]

🎃 Some changes coming to this blog 🎃

TL;DR Summary: You might notice me branching out into new topics or areas of interest now that I'm no longer writing TVD fanfiction. The overall vibe of this blog might alter a little. Although, I'll still be fall & autumn posting until the day I die and well into the afterlife if there is one. Things leaving: TVD fanfiction, my personal fanfiction, vampire stuff unless I feel like talking about them. Things possibly being introduced: More shitposting, mental illness related posts about my feelings on stuff, art maybe??? A journal on my adventures in lucid dreaming, shifting, and astral projection????* *That might turn into a whole new blog tbh. I don't know if any of my followers would enjoy listening to me babble about weird dream crap.

Read below for an expanded discourse about my ideas on what will change.

So! I've kind of run out of steam when it comes to writing fanfiction for TVD. Netflix eradicating the show from their streaming services kind of slammed down the final coffin nail on my muse, so to speak, & I was really bummed when I found out yesterday. This blog started out as a TVD/Originals sanctuary for me, after all... But it's grown into something more now. It's become a place where I can express feelings & thoughts that I've had hiding inside me but never felt safe enough to say out loud. And I've had so much fun with Autumn aesthetics; turning this blog into a Fall paradise has improved my mood in so many ways! Whenever I'm depressed, I just look at my blog and imagine that I'm relaxing in my pumpkin patch, far away from the noise and troubles of the world. & I've also made a couple of friends along the way here! Looking at you guys: @king-yandere and @margueritetheduchess05💖

The question remains, however. If I won't be writing about vampires anymore, then where do I go from here? What should I do? It's a solid fact that I go insane if I'm not actively engaging with my creativity in some way. Last night, the only thing I did was brainstorm, and stress myself out trying to think of SOMETHING. Today, I think I finally have a game plan. so lemme lay it out for you. Or rather, me. I don't know if anyone is actually reading this LOL. 🎃 "Accidentalslayer" name will still remain along with blog title. My autumn & spooky aesthetics are here to stay. I might reblog people's fanfics from time to time but I think I'm moving away from writing fic myself. Besides, it didn't feel very rewarding if I'm honest. I got very little engagement on my chapters. So, if I ever DO write another story on this blog again, it'll be definitely be an original fiction. My pumpkin hat off to fanfiction writers everywhere, though! A LOT of effort, time, and research goes into fanfic that readers will never know about... 🎃 It's already been there on the periphery but I think this blog might just turn into my main shitposting/journal outlet for talking about my mundane experiences. Mental illness, funny thoughts, & feelings that visit my brain every day. If I can somehow get my "art brain" to work again, I might post art here, idk. 🎃 I'm a spiritual hoe. I love talking about witchcraft, tarot, and lucid dreaming but I'm not really sure this blog is where I should talk about that stuff. I have @flowercrone for all my tarot/PAC readings but I've really REALLY started to take an interest in astral projection, shifting, and lucid dreaming. I even started a journal recently to document all my experiences. I should probably start another blog that's dedicated JUST to shifting and astral projection, idk. If you've gotten this far in the post, you're loved beyond belief right now. 💖 Please feel free to send suggestions to me in my asks if you have any ideas about anything I've written in this post.

[arcaneacolyte]

Little Death and Taxes

Summary:

Taxes

Goddamn son of a bitch fucking taxes.

Aether rubs over his eyes one more time, the screen in front of him not getting any goddamn clearer. He sighs sharply, and ignores as best as he can the stabbing pain he gets from his ribs in return.

One stupid move and he’s out of this leg of the tour and put on tax duty.

——————————

Aether is stuck at the ministry while the rest of his pack—sans Sunny—continue with the European Re-Imperatour. Dew sends him a video after the Ritual with the message ‘miss u’ attached.

It’s not what Aether expects it to be at all.

Pairing(s): Aether/Dew, Rain/Dew, Aether/Rain/Dew

Words: 6,615

Contains: Consensual Feminization, Crack Treated Seriously, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, Begging, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Dildos, Knotting, Dom/Sub, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Humiliation, Degradation, Crying, Dacryphilia, Breeding Kink, Impregnation Kink, Choking, Polyghouls, Mentions of Swiss/Dew, Sub Dew, Dom Rain, Aftercare, Safe Sane and Consensual

——————————

Look at me, I think I’m clever with that title lol, but it was too good to resist. This fic is me playing around with the silly cracky headcanons that Aether was left behind to do taxes, but I put a little spin on it of my own. I also have wanted to do a feminization fic along with a phone sex/long distance sex fic for a while, so here we are lol.

Originally I started writing this before it was confirmed that Aether was technically no longer with the band, and I was incredibly sad about it because he’s my favorite Ghoul, but I decided that they can pry my Bigguns Boy from my cold, dead hands.

I don’t know how Rain got in there. He originally wasn’t intended to be, but once I thought of it, I knew I needed to add him lol.

Also a reminder that my versions of the Ghouls have no connection to the artists that play them. They’re demons summoned to be in a silly Satanic rock band and are polyamorous little goobers in between.

Unbeta’d, so if anything is weird or wrong, please let me know and I will fix it!

Read below the cut or on AO3 if you prefer that.

Taxes.

Goddamn son of a bitch fucking taxes .

Aether rubs over his eyes one more time, the screen in front of him not getting any goddamn clearer. He sighs sharply, and ignores as best as he can the stabbing pain he gets from his ribs in return.

One stupid move and he’s out of this leg of the tour and put on tax duty.

Aether makes a face at himself. Well…..that’s not exactly how it had gone down.

He was trying to be helpful, really. Trying to help bring something heavy down a tall ladder for a Sister of Sin too small to get it herself, and of course, in his deep-seated need to be useful , he had unfortunately misstepped and slipped off the ladder. 

At the time he thought that the Sister was going to actually have a heart attack, however many pounds of sturdy ghoul and what else landing to the ground with a cacophonous crash right in front of her, and while Aether was able to calm her down with assurances that he was ok and walk away from the encounter, it was more than his pride that was wounded.

Three broken ribs. Broken enough that if he breathed too deeply or moved his body too quickly, a sharp stabbing pain would steal his breath right back and leave him lightheaded.

One might think that being a Quintessence Ghoul, he’d be able to heal himself right up no problem. However the thing about Quintessence Healing, was that it was a lot easier to use it on someone else rather than yourself, and every time Aether had tried, that sharp pain had racked his body enough that he couldn’t do anything more than alleviate it to where it wasn’t feeling like he was actually being stabbed.

He didn’t heal enough before the tour, and with an obviously heavy heart, Papa had made the hard decision to find a replacement rhythm guitarist for the opening leg of the Re-Imperatour. 

There’s no ill will towards the Quintessence Ghoul that they summoned to replace him, dubbed ‘Phantom’ by the fans, and Aether even wondered how the slighter Quintessence Ghoul felt about the whole thing, being put on tour so soon after summoning. Aether had scrolled through many videos of those first few Ritual nights, watching the rest of his pack playing without him.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt to be away from them.

He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t afraid it was going to be permanent.

Dewdrop had taken it the hardest of course. They were mates, and mandatory separation just wasn’t something they did . Every day before they left for the tour Aether watched Dew’s frown grow deeper and deeper, and it actually took a serious conversation from Aether to convince Dew to leave with the rest of their pack. Sex, kisses, and a few dozen promises to heal as fast as possible, so he could get back on the road with them where he belongs. 

Get back next to Dewdrop where he belongs.

At least he has Sunny, who had come down with basically the Ghoul equivalent of a bad flu, and was also replaced by another Ghoulette since it was determined she wasn’t in touring shape either. 

Ignoring the different stab of pain at the face of being unable to help Sunny because of his own injury, Aether tries his best to return his focus back on the computer screen in front of him.

Right. Taxes.

Goddamnit.

He once again curses his innate need to be helpful, and pushes back the voice in his head that reminds him how easily he can be replaced if he doesn’t show his worth. 

When Sister Imperator had asked him if he would be willing to help her with something light while he was healing, he had metaphorically jumped on the chance. Showing initiative and a willingness to continue to serve and all that.

All it had gotten him was a dozen file folders jammed packed full of receipts and an order to categorize all of them and make sure every expense the band had made in the past year was accounted for. Aether didn’t even know until now that they even did taxes, but that’s what you get for having an incredibly profitable metal band as your way of turning the world towards Satan. No way to turn this into a non-profit now.

So he’s been working on the goddamn receipts for days now, almost a week, and he can feel a migraine preparing itself in the back of his eyes. It’s late, and he should probably crawl back into his nest, but it just smells like him and Dew, and without his little Fire Ghoul there to snuggle up against, it hurts almost as much as his ribs do.

Besides, he wants to stay up late enough to text and maybe call Dew, something they've been doing since the tour started. Dewdrop tells him the stupid shenanigans he and the rest of their pack have gotten up to on and off the stage, and Aether tells him how good he looks and how much doing taxes sucks and how Sunny is feeling. It’s all painfully domestic and Aether would enjoy it more were it not for the fact that he should be right along with them, and would know everything Dew was telling him already because he was there to experience it.

The spreadsheet on the computer isn’t making any more sense now than it was a few minutes ago, and Aether decides that he can at least take a break. Checking the time, he notices that it’s a little past the usual time that Dew tells him that the band is either back on the road heading towards the next Ritual, or spending a night in a hotel before they head off again in the morning. He reaches for his phone that he placed on the corner of his desk earlier, and looks to see if he has any messages.

There’s a couple of Snapchats probably from his other packmates, some other social media notifications, but the Quintessence Ghoul smiles when he sees that he has a text from Dew.

From: ~🔥Spitfire🔥~ ‘miss u’ There’s a video attached to the message, and even though the preview is black, Aether’s smile widens. Probably Dew just saying some stupid shit like, “You better call me as soon as you get this, asshole. Don’t leave me waiting or I’ll fall asleep on your ass.”

Without thinking, he clicks play on the video, and while it’s definitely from Dewdrop. It’s not what he expected at all .

He’d recognize that lithe body and that fall of straw blonde hair anywhere…..but what he doesn’t quite recognize, is the clothing he’s wearing. On second thought, the black strips of cloth covering him could hardly be described as clothing , and they’re hardly covering anything in the first place.

Aether watches, rapt as the video continues, and more and more and more details start to register.

Dew's cock it out for one; it takes an embarrassingly long time for that to click, but the rest of what’s going on in the video is so damn attention grabbing he can hardly be blamed can he?

The black strip of fabric that could hardly even be called a tube top stretches over Dew's chest, but the Quintessence Ghoul can still see the ring piercings bulging the fabric, leaving little to nothing to the imagination, and it’s almost more scandalous than if he were wearing nothing.

A black skirt is hiked up onto the Fire Ghoul’s hips, so much pale skin on display that it makes Aether dizzy and swallow as his eyes roam. 

It’s strange how it takes him this long to realize that Dewdrop's head is not in the video, at least not all of it, but there are moments where his chin dips into the frame of the camera, and bright, fang bitten lips give him a flash of red that makes his cock jerk within his sweats.

Then it finally hits him all at once. 

Dew sent him a video of himself jerking off. 

Aether scrambles now to turn the volume up on his phone, hands already sweating as he starts the video over from the beginning, praying to Lucifer that he can take everything in from the very start with sound.

And oh Belial is there sound . Aether watches, clutching his phone so hard, as if he were afraid to drop it and miss something. 

“Aeth~”

In the video, an arm covered in black fabric all the way to his bicep reaches down and grabs his cock between his kneeling knees, the flushed tip of it aimed at the camera, making Aether swallow roughly at the sudden and gripping urge to get that cute, hard little cock on his tongue. It always fits so well, just enough to be a comfortable and sinful little mouthful. 

The tinny moans that come out of the Fire Ghoul’s mouth over the phone speakers are already driving Aether crazy, having not heard them in so, so, long. The Quintessence Ghoul swears, and adjusts his hard cock in his sweats, unable to stop himself from giving one hard squeeze and stroke. Just to take the edge off, he swears. 

Eyes rapt, Aether watches in awe as Dew continues to run a hand steadily up and down his cock, pace very unlike himself. Usually when Dewdrop gets a hand on himself, as hard as he is right now, he’s pumping slick fingers up and down at a breakneck pace, trying to rush himself into orgasm since he’s not the type of Ghoul to deny himself any pleasure unless someone is making him.

Then he hears it, somewhere off screen, sounding like it’s coming from behind the camera.

“Go on now, don’t be shy, Firelily…..show him…..”

It’s Rain’s voice.

Aether nearly chokes on his own saliva at the harsh throbbing kick that his cock makes, the front of his sweats already starting to soak with pre-come. He doesn’t even have to look down to know that it’s true.

He also doesn’t have much time to ponder or even really even reflect on what Rain could possibly mean by, “show him” before he’s getting his answer, and what he sees makes him scramble to reach down and push his goddamn sweats and underwear out of the way and get the first real grip to his cock. The pleasure overwhelms him for a second and he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling before snapping his eyes back open. His thumb taps quickly on the video to run it back a few seconds just so he can watch it again.

It takes a few seconds for Dew to actually do as Rain asked, but those few moments of anticipation make the reveal all worth it.

Dew whines, and sits up nice and tall on his knees instead of sitting back on them, and a dildo the same shade of his clothes comes into view. Thick, probably oh so long, and wet .

Aether can’t help but send a silent thank you down to Satan that that was one of the Water Ghoul traits Dewdrop had kept after his transition to Fire, because the idea that Dew could be ready to take anything up his ass without lube if you got him horny enough never failed to make Aether’s eyes nearly cross in pleasure. 

Straining to keep his eyes open, Aether clicks the volume up on his phone a few more notches and continues to watch, uncaring now how his cock is out in the open and how he’s furiously stroking himself as he watches. Anyone could walk in on him at this exact moment and he wouldn’t even give a damn. He probably wouldn’t even look away, because nothing was more important to him in this moment than watching Dew poised with a dildo part-way in him, hand still stroking his cock in that teasing manner; the pain in his ribs doesn’t even register to him anymore as he waits for Rain’s instruction.

And what an instruction it is.

“What do we say for Aether, Sweetheart?” The tone is sickeningly sweet, and Aether can easily imagine the equally saccharine smile that plays across Rain’s features even though he’s nowhere to be found in the video itself.

Dew whines, and Aether pulls the phone closer to his face, watching with greedy violet eyes as the Fire Ghoul’s thighs quiver. How long has Rain had him riding on that dildo? Had he even let Dewdrop rise up from where the dildo fills him until that exact moment? What events led to Rain recording Dew and having the pale little Ghoul send it to him with the caption ‘miss u’ like it was some innocent little message? 

Clearly the devious Water Ghoul had been stirring up Dew for a long while, because the whines and moans that slip out of his mouth, sometimes with a visual counterpart, are shaky and wild and wet . Dewdrop only gets that way when he’s been teased for a long time. 

Has Rain been teasing him since before they arrived at the hotel? Since before they performed their ritual? Aether swears under his breath, accelerating the rate of his own stroking, panting harshly through parted lips. There’s so much he doesn’t know that he should know, and the fact that he isn’t in that hotel watching this live, stuck here doing taxes of all goddamn things, causes him to curse again.

Pre-come drips over his knuckles, the wet sound of his stroking amplifying as he hears Rain ask again, less nicely this time, what Dew is supposed to say.

What— oh Lucifer in Hell — what is he supposed to say ? The Quintessence Ghoul would be waiting with bated breath were he not wringing his cock with abandon now, twisting his wrist on the upstroke and dragging harder on the downstroke; pulling at his foreskin and exposing the head of his cock as another large pearl of pre-come trickles out of him and over his knuckles, adding to the mess that he’s making of himself.

Finally, Dew speaks, his chin to his chest and his mouth in view of the camera. Aether’s eyes snap to it.

“Miss your big, fat cock in my ass--”

“ Ah-ah! ” Rain admonishes with a displeased click of his tongue, and the pathetic little squeaking keen Dew utters makes Aether dizzy .

Dew swallows and tries again, his legs trembling with fervor now. Swallowing roughly himself, Aether can just imagine how much the pretty, pale little Ghoul in front of him wants to slam his hips back down onto that dildo and ride, ride, ride until he’s come all over himself.

“Miss your big fat cock in my c- cunt ,” Dew says, and Aether nearly blacks out from how quickly he grabs the base of his dick to stop himself from coming right then and there.

In his delirium and almost orgasm, Aether hears Rain coo, “ Good girl…. ”

Aether has to double his efforts to not come his fucking brains out.

It’s not something Dew and Aether do together do all that often, or really ever , but the Quintessence Ghoul has heard from many sources— read: Swiss and a bit from Rain himself —that when Dew gets desperate enough, he really likes it when you do everything to point out how small and pretty and delicate he looks. How much like a pretty girl he looks. When you put him in an outfit that really makes the scene that much more real to him, and get him so horny and dropped into subspace, he’ll admit how much he likes being someone’s baby girl . He doesn’t have to be a big, tough, prickly Fire Ghoul. He can be pretty and sweet and treated oh so kindly as well as oh so meanly.

But that kind of play is usually reserved for Swiss and Rain. Not for Aether. Sure, Aether calls him pretty and sweet, but he’s never made Dewdrop use that kind of language for himself. He’s never made Dew wear an outfit like this—there’s fishnets on his legs, fucking Hell— but hearing it over those speakers makes Aether yearn to hear it live, and the curses of being left behind once again as he throws his head back might as well be shouted from the rooftops with how vehemently he spits it.

“I miss it…..I need it~”

Aether keys back into the video and once again taps it back a few seconds. There is no way in any of the circles of Hell he’s going to miss a single goddamn thing in this video.

“And what do we say about Aether’s cock, Babygirl ?” Rain asks, sounding closer to the camera now, as if he were standing just off to the side of Dew. The part of his chin that Aether can see is turned away from the camera slightly, and he must be right because suddenly, a familiar hand comes into the frame and grips at Dew's throat, causing a choked off moan to croak out of the Fire Ghoul.

Then, the camera suddenly moves, and Aether’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes as the camera is pulled up and aimed directly at Dew's face, and really, Aether can do nothing more than start pulling at his cock again at the vision that Dew makes.

He’s been crying, of course he’s been crying. But this isn’t the ordinary cry that he sometimes pulls out of Dewdrop when Aether Doms him. 

Black streaks of mascara run down his cheeks, his eyes glassy and filled with tears and frustration and rapture , so deep in subspace that he seems like he doesn’t even have it in himself to be embarrassed about Rain exposing his face. Some strands of hair are plastered to the side of his temples and neck; one adamant piece stuck to his lips, making him look all the more wild. And oh , his lips. That redness that Ather had caught glimpses of before wasn’t from Dew biting them, or at least, not just from Dew biting them. Pretty berry red lip gloss covers his mouth, and Lucifer, even his mustache is gone, his upper lip shaved smooth and pretty, probably just how Rain wanted him.

Speaking of the Water Ghoul, his hand is still clasped around Dew's throat, and Aether watches as it tightens just enough as Dew moans out. 

“I miss it…..I need it~”

He’s so close to coming again, he can feel it deep in his hips, the all consuming want to come. Yet another part of Aether wants to drag it out, to see how this video ends, to come when Dew comes, if he does get to come, and that idea just drags another moan out of him as he strokes a little harder. 

It takes a monumental amount of willpower to remove his hand from his cock, the head flushed and purple, wet. Aether imagines for a frantic second it’s wet because of Dew's slick, and the mental image actually makes his eyes roll back this time.

“Well…..” Rain says lowly, camera still aimed at Dewdrop's flushed face, and it seems that the Fire Ghoul has grasped at some modicum of brain cells, because his eyes are looking away from Rain, but that doesn’t stop the low grade whine that he’s got going on in his throat.

The throat that Rain decides to actually squeeze now, the indents of his fingers very clear as they grip at the sides of the sweet little Fire Ghoul’s neck.

“Eyes on me or you’re not getting anything,” Rain enunciates carefully, and Dew's eyes seem to do as commanded before the Ghoul himself can even recognize that the action is done. Aether still can’t see the Water Ghoul’s face, but he hears that sickly sweet tone again. “That’s it, Babygirl . I know how much of a dumb bimbo you become when your cunt is filled with cock, but you need to pay attention.” 

Fuck, it should not turn on Aether to hear Rain be condescending to Dew as much as it does, but he can’t help the way his cock kicks and hits his belly, leaving a wet mark behind on his t-shirt. He grips the arm of his chair with his free hand to stave off the gnawing all consuming urge to pump and pump and pump his cock until he comes everywhere. He hasn’t felt the need to come this much is so fucking long. 

A terrible pang of loneliness hits him then, and he chomps onto his bottom lip to give himself anything to focus on other than the sheer longing he has to be with the two ghouls in the video.

“’M not a bimbo……” Dew replies weakly, and Aether draws a deep breath in sympathy for the choked tone. 

The condescending laugh Rain lets out shouldn’t sound so good to Aether’s ears.

“Oh?” Rain’s voice is innocent, before he seems to lean in and get incredibly close to Dew's ear. "Then why are you trembling so hard like it’s taking all of your brain and willpower to prevent yourself from bouncing on the fake cock splitting your soaking little pussy open?” He hisses.

All Dewdrop can do is keen wantonly at the dirty talk, his tears filled eyes rolling shut, making said tears slip down his face and wet his cheeks anew, his glossy red mouth open and panting. He finally seems to find his words, because he whines, “Because you told me not to….”

Rain takes pity on him then, or seems to, because he lets out a long suffering sigh. “Oh, I suppose you’re right….for once…..you have been a particularly good little girl for me tonight…..” He removes his hand from Dew's throat, and the Fire Ghoul gasps out a full breath, but that’s all he gets before Rain is leaning in close again. “Is it because you know I’m going to make you send this video to Aether? Is it because you wanna be a good slut for him?” He asks, conspiratorially.  

Oh. Oh no.

That thought hadn’t occurred to Aether. Is this a special version of Dewdrop that’s only happening because Rain decided to involve Aether?

Rain doesn’t get an answer from Dew, and neither does Aether, because at that exact moment, the video stops.

His phone is ringing.

The name on the caller ID makes him swipe furiously and answer it, halfway—ok, probably a lot more than halfway—delirious with arousal and indignation and longing and a myriad of other things he doesn’t have the spare brain cells to name as he croaks and speaks for the first time in what feels like hours.

“ What the fuck ? ”

“Ah, so you did get it, good,” Rain replies. So nonchalant, as if he didn’t help send Aether enough wank fodder to supply him for the next century . “With how long it was taking you to respond, I was almost afraid you were asleep.”

Aether growls into the phone, and Rain actually laughs, apparently endlessly pleased. The Quintessence Ghoul always knew he was a mean, sneaky little thing when he wanted to be, and the very clear mirth in his voice just proves it. 

“ What the fuck ?” Aether repeats, and Rain chuckles again, clearly amused.

“Didn’t think it’d get you this riled up, big guy…..”

A soft sound breaks over Rain’s end of the phone, and Aether hears Rain pull himself away from the speaker to say. “You hush or you’ll get nothing .”

A wave of arousal hits Aether so hard he almost gets vertigo. “He’s still—?” He starts to ask, gritted through his teeth, and Rain finishes the sentence for him.

“Waiting and whining like a little bitch in heat? Yeah, she is.”

Aether chokes on a moan. “F-fuck, Rain.”

Rain just laughs more. “You wanna see?”

Growling, Aether can’t help but reach for his cock again and squeeze . 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” is the smarmy reply from the Water Ghoul. Aether hears movement on Rain’s side of the line again, and wonders what the fuck is happening before Rain answers simply for him. “Turn video call on.”

Aether nearly drops his phone pulling it away from his face to do just that. Thank Satan below he doesn’t, and he thanks Satan again as the video call connects, Rain’s camera pointed directly at the object of Aether’s desire.

Dewdrop is poised right where Aether had left off in the video, but has fallen apart even more. His legs are actually truly shaking with the effort he seems to be exerting. His face is bowed, until Rain says, “Babygirl,” and Dew's head wearily looks up. Even more of his hair is plastered to his messy face, but Aether thinks he’s fucking beautiful and he can’t help but growl, which makes Dew's head snap to attention now.

He whines, and Rain replies. “That’s right, he’s finally here…..”

Dewdrop sobs. Honest to Lucifer sobs . “ Aether ~” He cries loudly, like the Quintessence Ghoul has been the key to his salvation this entire time. And oh, how utterly blasphemous that thought is.

“I’m here, Firelily,” he groans, stroking faster, unable to help himself because while the video was great , this is happening in real time. And while it would be even better— right even—for him to be there, this is the next best thing. “What do you need?”

When Dew takes more than a second or two to answer, Rain replies, the camera approaching closer to the delicate and worn out little Fire Ghoul. And oh , how pretty he is with his trembling thighs and rock hard cock sticking out from that slutty little skirt. Aether can see the fishnet stockings better, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to look at feminine clothing without imagining what Dew would look like in them for a long time. “Well, he asked you a question, didn’t he?”

Dew sobs again, his breath hitching as he wails, probably loud enough for the hotel neighbors to hear, but in his current state doesn’t seem to care about. “I need your cock— uhhngh — Aether! —I-I need to c-come ~!”

Aether just growls more, eyes unable to look away from the pathetic little display, on how Dew's cock kicks at his own confession, how his hands grip the bed sheets to his sides, white knuckle.

Rain must be a goddamn mind reader , because he proudly says. “I’ve been making her wait since she sent that video to you.”

Dew whines and screws his eyes shut at the pronouns, but doesn’t protest, opening them again after a few long seconds.

“ Good girl~ ”

It comes out of Aether’s mouth without permission, but once it’s out he can’t find that he regrets it with how Dewdrop reacts. He wails again, more tears streaming down his face, his cock absolutely pouring out pre-come. The Quintessence Ghoul bets that if the camera angle were different, he’d be able to see Dew's slick drooling and dripping down the dildo still perched inside him, not deep enough to satisfy at all .

Rain nearly cackles. “Hear that, Pretty Girl? Well….I think we can finally move to the main event.” He moves, and Aether hears him shuffle onto the bed, front and center across from Dew, and the big Ghoul growls again to see that he was right, the dildo is absolutely covered , as are the sheets below the trembling Fire Ghoul. 

“Go on Princess….” Rain growls himself. “Show and Tell time…..”

Dew nearly ragdolls in relief as he finally, finally sits back down on the dildo, and the near shrieking moan would have Aether worried about noise complaints normally, but right now? He couldn’t give two flying fucks. He watches as Dew starts to bounce, riding and wailing and moaning and sobbing . Aether strokes along with his pace, and he can just about pretend that this beautiful creature is riding him, that he’s actually making Dew that wanton, that desperate .

“Tell him what you really want, Princess,” Rain commands, and Dew doesn’t even think to disobey him.

“Want you to knot in-in my pussy, Aeth—oh fuck ~” He whines and throws his head back, a fountain of hair flying behind him at the motion, bouncing on the dildo with true abandon now. However, he seems to remember some rule that Aether was never privy to and brings his head back forward, his face partially hidden by the straw colored strands that follow, but glassy, tear filled eyes stare right at the camera, practically into Aether’s soul. “Fill it up….m-make it—make it catch. ”

Aether can’t keep his mouth shut after that. How could he? How absolutely could he with the vision in front of him now? With Dewdrop pleading so sweetly, riding the simulacrum of his cock so desperately?

He lets loose utter filth. Praises Dew , tells him what a pretty girl he is, what a perfect little bimbo Princess he’s being. How good he was following Rain’s orders, and how amazing he looks, strung out in wanton abandon but still wanting more, more, more. The Quintessence Ghoul can feel his knot starting to inflate, something he hasn’t felt since before his pack members left, and he growls sharply, his fangs showing, and he knows that Dew sees them by how he tilts his head back and to the side, offering his neck, offering his submission. Aether feels a little bit of drool slide out of his mouth at the thought of sinking his teeth into that plump little scent gland, drowning himself in pheremones until he’s fucking drunk with it, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is coming and making the perfect little Ghoul in front of him come his stupid whore brains out.

“Gonna come—” he warns with a grunt, the feeling of his arousal along with the vision Dew makes rocketing him so very close to the edge.

“Yeah—you gonna knot her little pussy? Gonna knock her up?”

If Aether had the wherewithal, he’d notice Rain panting, but he just continues to fuck his fist, determined to come, needing it more than he feels like he needs to breathe.

And he agrees, agrees with Rain and tells Dew so. “Gonna knot— need to knot. Gonna tie so tight in your cunt, Baby…it’ll— fuck —you’ll be so full of me…..”

“Need it, need it, need it~! ” Dew all but shrieks, slamming himself down on the dildo so hard it’s actually shaking the bed, probably knocking the frame against the wall. If Aether were there, really doing this to him, the same thing probably would be happening anyway, so Aether can’t find it in himself to care, not when he’s this close.

And he is close, and he tells Dewdrop so. “Close…..almost there, Baby….here it comes— here it comes !”

“ Come in me—Come in my cunt~! ”

With that, and a particularly hard squeeze to his knot by his own hand, Aether does. He growls sharply, loudly into the speaker, and Dew slams the dildo home one more time before they’re both coming, shouting each other's names as if their infernal lives depend on it.

Their subsequent orgasms seems to last forever, Aether coming all over his shirt and his sweats, Dew coming without a single touch to his fucking dick, as if all he really needed was a cock in his ass to come so fucking hard. Aether’s cock gives another sharp kick at that, and he groans again, feeling the swell of his knot and squeezing it again, pretending for just another moment that it actually was buried deep inside Dew.

The comedown from the orgasm seems to last an eternity as well, but finally, the fog of arousal begins to clear from Aether’s mind, followed quickly by a deep loneliness. Yes, he just quite possibly had one of the best orgasms of his infernal life , but he wasn’t actually with Dewdrop and Rain, and as he watches Rain reach for Dew from behind the camera, cup his face and praise him heartily—the sweetness in his tone real this time—the Quintessence Ghoul can’t help but sigh and shut his eyes. 

His attention is brought back to Rain saying his name, and he opens his eyes again to see Rain has turned the camera on himself. 

“Hey, I’m gonna do some cleanup and aftercare with him and then we’ll call you back, ok? It’s easier to do it without holding the camera….” His tone seems apologetic, but Aether offers him a weak smile.

“Go ahead, I gotta do some cleanup myself,” he glances down at his soaked shirt, tucks himself back into his sweats with a small grimace, and Rain laughs, this time not a tinge of cruelty in it.

“Sounds good, I’ll call back ASAP, ok?”

Aether tries not to let the sting in his heart affect his smile. “Alright, talk to you soon.”

His phone goes dark as the call ends. 

Once it does, he realizes it’s the only light in the room, the laptop in front of him long asleep. Aether sighs, sets the phone face down on the desk, leans back in the chair, closes his eyes, and just lets himself wallow.

He misses his pack, he misses their scents, their laughter not played through a tinny electronic speaker. He misses dinners and rituals and touching them and—

Aether paws at the tear that slips out. 

Goddamnit.

There’s no one to blame but himself, and he sighs, sadness turning into anger and frustration at himself, and he moves, flicking on the desk lamp and reaching more vigorously for the box of tissues than he needs to, and that’s when his injured ribs seem to reawaken and remind him even more of his stupid mistake.

He tries to clean himself up as well as he can, but quickly finds it’s a lost damn cause and simply sheds his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. It caught the most of his orgasm anyways. He dutifully ignores his bruised torso in favor of shoving the dirtied tissues into the garbage. 

Reaching up and rubbing at his face, he tries to stave off an oncoming headache. Sighing, he stands and moves, taxes altogether forgotten. He’s going to go lie down and wait.

Shuffling towards the bathroom, he rids himself of his stained sweats and underwear, uses the toilet, and downs one and a half glasses of water before padding to his wardrobe to change into something soft and clean.

He grabs his phone from the desk and approaches his nest, flopping down onto it and hissing when his ribs protest. He tells them to shut up and tries to get as comfortable as he can alone in his sea of blankets and pillows.

He tries not to stare at the blank screen, tries not to turn it on too often to see how time has passed. He knows aftercare is important and it can take a while, especially after an intense and probably long scene like that one, but he can’t help but be antsy, waiting and waiting for the phone to ring.

It does, eventually, and Aether accepts the video call on the second ring. Once the camera connects, his heart melts.

It’s an overhead view of Rain and Dew snuggled in the hotel bed, white sheets pooled around them. Dew's  whole face is buried into Rain’s neck, and Aether tries not to speak too loud. He looks asleep.

He also tries not to be disappointed in that.

“How’d it go?” He asks.

Rain smiles and shifts, getting more comfortable. “Pretty good…..” he then hesitates and Aether frowns softly. “He kept asking for you for a bit….”

Aether’s eyes shut and they both share a little private moment of agony. “Yeah?” he croaks, opening his eyes.

Rain nods, finally settling into what seems like the perfect cuddle position. Aether tries fiercely not to be jealous. “But I let him know we were gonna call you after we were done cleaning up.”

It strikes Aether suddenly, that throughout that entire encounter, he didn’t see Rain come. His frown deepens. That wasn’t fair, was it?

“Are you? Did you—?” 

It comes lamely out of his mouth, and this time he internally thanks Rain for his somehow mysterious ability to read minds when he needs to because he smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m alright,” he says from where he’s pressed into Dewdrop's hair. “He got me off several times before we even got the dildo in….isn’t that right?” He aims the question at the Ghoul cuddled into him, kissing at that wild straw hair, and Dew grumbles, nipping at the gills at Rain’s neck before turning his eyes towards the camera. His face is clear of makeup, but his eyes are still red, as is his nose, and he sniffs a little bit. 

Aether can’t help himself. “Hi, baby….” he coos softly, and the Fire Ghoul trills back at him, pressing his face into Rain’s neck again, but keeping one eye open and on the camera.

A flash of pain clenches Aether’s heart. “Wish I was there with you,” he admits pathetically.

Dew makes a noise at that. “Heal faster,” he demands, his voice rough and funny sounding with his cheek smooshed into Rain’s collarbone.

The Water Ghoul rolls his eyes. “Take your time ,” he says, nudging Dew, who simply scoffs.

They sit in silence for a long moment, enjoying the company however they can share it, before Dew whispers. “Miss you….”

Aether’s heart breaks all over again. “Miss you too, Firefly….”

The silence isn’t quite as enjoyable after that. Dewdrop yawns after a while, and Rain sighs, defeated. “It’s late,” he admits, even though they all know it is. They should get on with it. They should go to bed because they probably have to get on the road tomorrow, and Aether, well, he’s got piles of receipts to attend to. However it becomes increasingly obvious that none of them want to hang up, especially when Dew whines softly in protest when Rain suggests they go to sleep.

The Water Ghoul bites his lip. “Here, how about this….” and he starts to move, making Dew protest again. Rain simply shushes him and shuffles them onto their sides, propping the phone up on the bed so Aether can see the both of them. They look so comfortable, and Aether yearns . “Tell us about your day,” Rain says softly, nudging Dewdrop, who watches Aether with tired yet fond eyes. 

And Aether does exactly that, trying to think of anything to talk about to keep the call going. In turn, Dew—mostly Rain if they’re being honest—tells him about their day, fills him in on the tour, the rest of their pack members, until even Aether starts to fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. 

“Miss you,” he says. The two Ghouls on the other line rumble in agreement. “Love you,” he adds.

“Love you too,” Rain replies easily. Dew stays quiet, and Aether tries not to let it hurt him.

“See you next time you come home…..” he says instead, not quite remembering when that will be, but it’s the sentiment that counts, that keeps him going. 

Rain and Dew mumble agreements, but again, no one reaches to turn off the call. They just stare at one another, until Aether finally loses the battle and his eyes slip closed, the last thing he sees before he drops off into sleep is Dewdrop mouthing—

“I love you.”

[krisssssssy]

WIP Title Meme

I was tagged by @savage-rhi!

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

So. My WIPs are pretty much entirely Ardyn lmao. Also I know the point of this is to post just the titles, but I'm gonna give a little summary.

All Fan-Fic WIPS:

To the Blessed Below - Ardyn/Reader - Reader is a scientist working in Besithia's lab when they rescue Ardyn on Angelgard. She assists in his recovery, witnessing his steady descent into villainy, despite her best intentions.

Unpunishable - sub!Ardyn/dom!Reader - Reader assists Ardyn in learning to control his (literal) daemons.

Untitled Gladio/Reader fic - I just want an excuse to write hate sex between reader and Gladio. They (begrudgingly) team up to take down a nest of daemons in the Darkness and arguments ensue over Reader's skill, with Gladio being his usual cocky, annoying self.

Wolf at the Door - Ardyn/Reader - Set during the darkness, your hunting partner has started acting weird - he's stronger, more talkative, and he seems like an entirely different person. You start to wonder if he's possessed. This fic is just me theorizing what Ardyn would do to pass the time during the darkness (i.e. kill a hunter and pretend to be them for funsies).

Inheritance - Ardyn/Reader - Reader is Iedolus Aldercapt's adult daughter, the future Empress of Niflheim. She grows increasingly paranoid of the Chancellor and his intentions, when her spies keep ending up dead. I want to explore how Ardyn might have operated in the Empire if Iedolus had a successor who was witness to his manipulations. Sort of enemies to lovers, but they're still enemies the entire time.

Liability - Mandalorian/Reader fic - Pre-Season 1 - Mando takes a bounty to return an escaped duchess to her husband, only to find she's more trouble than she's worth. I wanted to explore Mando's character pre-canon, where he's more mean, and force him to interact with an emotionally unstable, unpredictable Reader character lol. Will likely be very toxic, power dynamics, etc.

Untitled dom!Mando/sub!Reader fic - Pre-canon, Mando agrees not to freeze Reader in carbonite as long as she behaves.

Original Works:

Isolated Waters - Poetry collection, exploring my experience growing up with mental illness.

Tagging: I don't know a lot of people on here, so I'm just gonna tag a few! (don't feel any pressure to do this!) @hauntedadagium, @thecomfortgoth, @eddiessidegirl, @guildwarsgirl

[promptsinpanem]

From the Ashes We Rise

Summary: (AU) In a world where powerful deities reside in the heavens of Panem above, a young demigoddess named Katniss, possessing the gift of fire, struggles to find her way. As daughter of the benevolent nature god, Katniss accepts her rightful place in the heavens; however, she’s inexplicably drawn to the mortal world, especially to a golden-haired baker’s boy. When everything is turned upside down and brother turns on brother, Katniss must make an important choice and fight for what she believes in. Will she be able to protect her precious boy with the bread in the process?

Rating: T 

Prompt: R2D4: Everlark through the Ages (Ancient Greece)/R6D1: Peeta’s Paintbox (Red)  

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to write this fic for a very long time. Thanks, promptsinpanem, for giving me the opportunity! I’m so thrilled to be participating in PiP for the very first time! Thanks to daydreamsandcaffeine for her help with the title! 

***** Katniss 

My eyes flutter open as I wake, feeling far less rested than normal. My immortal body doesn’t require much, neither food (only the special nectar of the gods) nor sleep to sustain itself; however, nights like last night always leave me feeling ill at ease, as if I’m crawling out of my skin.  

I had that dream again. I dreamed of the boy, and the fire…  

I wonder about him sometimes‒Is he safe? Is he eating enough?‒although, I refuse to look in on him. He could be dead for all I know (I hope not), but I paid the price for my foolishness years ago and have vowed never to see him again. 

At least, not during the waking hours.  

Briefly, I ponder asking Morpheus for a potent sleep syrup that’ll send me into the deepest, dreamless state of sleep. Perhaps he would do a trade. 

I decide to keep it in mind. 

With a yawn, I raise my arms above my head and emerge from my fluffy cocoon of pillows and blankets. The large bed is to my liking as is my new place in Victor’s Village. Most of the young gods and goddesses live here, and the dwellings are more than adequate, if not as magnificent and specially customized as the palaces of the major deities. I could have remained with my father, of course, who despite being the present ruler of the gods, has a modest, charming abode rather than a grandiose palace, but I felt it was time to strike out on my own. 

I get out of bed and pad over to my gilded full-length mirror. I stand there, naked, looking at myself. I sleep in the nude sometimes; it’s relaxing and freeing, and I like to imagine I’m floating in a secluded stream. It’s been so long since I’ve been in the mortal world and seen a real stream. Staring at my reflection, I give myself a once-over, then turn to the side and crane my neck to get a better look at the jagged mark between my shoulder blades. Where the beam fell on me, right between where my wings protrude. It still hasn’t faded. I couldn’t believe it even left a mark, though my powers were weakened then, and I was young. 

I’m older now, and much stronger. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I won’t let it. 

As I’m observing myself, I hear a throaty giggle/cackle, and in a burst of black and red dust, she appears behind me.  

“Hey!” I exclaim, hastening to cover myself with a sheet. I hate how she just pops into my chambers unannounced. She doesn’t have an ounce of respect for anyone’s privacy. “Do you mind?” I twirl my finger, and the sheet whips around my body, wrapping tightly and knotting at the top.  

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” the Goddess of Love titters. Well, of course. She prances around naked all the time. But I’m far more modest than her, even if I do enjoy sleeping naked sometimes. 

I turn my head slightly. Although she does regularly flaunt her nakedness, especially when she can get a reaction from someone, she’s dressed today, in her typical all-white attire, and her white-blonde hair is in its usual pixie cut. She’s gone to my bed and is floating just barely above the edge of it. She crosses one leg over the other and cocks her head to the side. “You’ve developed,” she remarks, and I roll my eyes at her in the mirror. “You’re a full-fledged adult now, aren’t you?”

“Jo,” I huff, not bothering to thank her for the rare compliment‒or what I assume was one; maybe she was only mocking me. Coldly, I stare at her reflection in the mirror. “What do you want?” 

“My, how rude,” she snarks. “And you address the Goddess of Love so casually?”  

“How would you have me greet you?” I challenge. 

“Ohh, how about Oh Glorious One or Most Majestic Supreme Being…” She tosses out several more overblown honorifics, and I barely refrain from gagging. 

“Is your ego really so big, Johanna?” I say. 

She smirks at me.  

“Fine.” I give, only in order to get her to go away. “You are looking well today… Oh Beauteous Goddess.” I somehow manage to say it with a straight face and without choking on any of the words. 

Johanna approaches me then. She pats my head like a dog and tells me, “Good little demigoddess.” 

I jerk my head away and scowl. 

I’d often wondered how a goddess like Johanna ever came to earn the title of Goddess of Love, and she explained it to me before. She’d said that there are many different types of love, which she understands well but is also able to remain detached from. And then she’d complained about being beaten out for the Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare. 

“Jo, was there something you needed?” I ask impatiently. 

“Why the rush? You’re not even dressed yet.” 

I am in a rush, actually. 

“I have errands,” I say. For one, I’m eager to visit the forge for a repair to my bow and new arrows, and I’m about three seconds away from popping out on her, no matter how angry it might make her. 

“Ah, then you’d better put something on, hadn’t you?” she says. “I was only popping in to say hello, anyway.”   

Jo is in an exceptionally good mood today, and I don’t even want to imagine why. Most likely, she did something particularly wicked, or naughty.  

As I’m pushing the thought from my mind, she waves a hand. In an instant, my sheet vanishes and is replaced by a flame red dress with a sheer black underlay, giving the appearance of coals in a fire. With a snap of her finger the dress appears to ignite, sizzling and crackling against my skin. I feel nothing, of course. 

“What do you think?” She places her hands upon her slender hips, and I look down to observe the dress. 

“It’s…nice,” I say, taking a closer look in the mirror. The dress gives the illusion that I’m on fire‒kind of unnecessary, of course, considering I command the substance and can easily ignite myself for real at any time, but it is a pretty dress. She bids me to twirl, but I ignore her. 

I remind her that I need to be off, and this time, she doesn’t fight me. I thank her for the dress and disappear. 

***** I get to the forge, and fortunately, Thresh has no other pressing business, so he's able to quickly repair my weapon and whip up a fresh batch of arrows for me. Not that I mind watching him work; he's so methodical, and he doesn't chitchat much. Usually, he only gives me a hello and goodbye greeting, but today, he mentions that my Uncle Snow was just here. 

That's odd.  ***** Once my weapon is done I go to my private woodland retreat to shoot. It’s not a real woods but a hologram, one generated by godly magic, my father's, to be precise. It's lovely, but I wish I could go to Earth to hunt for real. 

After, I decide pay my uncle a visit. I'm curious about why he was at the forge. I know where to search for him, and naturally, he’s in the first place I look–the Arena. 

Uncle Snow greatly enjoys the Arena, which is a large coliseum where the gods, typically the ‘lesser’ gods, challenge one another for sport and accolades, and of course, for the entertainment of the greater gods. It’s one of his favorite pastimes to watch the other gods fight and to place his bets. Sometimes ferocious beasts are conjured as well‒lions, tigers, or occasionally, specially modified creations. And then there are the chariot races, too. 

“Ah, Katniss,” my uncle greets me the moment I materialize in the seat next to him. His snakelike eyes scan me. “You look lovely in red, my dear.” 

My eyes flicker down to my new dress; I can hear the flames crackling against my skin. It is beautiful, but a bit loud, literally. 

“Jo made me wear it,” I say.   

My uncle nods. “Well, it suits you. Although,” he smirks, “you really shouldn’t let the Goddess of Love push you around, my dear.” 

“I don’t!” I protest. “She just…sort of does what she wants.” 

“That she does,” my uncle agrees. 

We watch a battle together, which ends in a stalemate. That happens a lot. 

"Not much sport in it, is there?" Uncle Snow comments. I refrain from asking if it's so boring, then why does he come so often. “Gods fighting other gods..." 

"What would you suggest, Uncle?" 

Uncle Snow thinks on this a moment, but he doesn't answer me. 

“There are the wagers," I offer. "And I hear that when Cato won his fight he made Marvel be his servant for the day. That's kind of...interesting." 

My uncle sneers. “Yes, of course, the accolades and such are all well and good; however, there’s no sense of urgency when death is not on the line. Not like when the mortals battle." He pauses. "Wouldn’t that be something..." 

I almost laugh. 

"Mortals, Uncle?" He wants to bring mortals to the Arena to fight? It'd be a bloodbath. “That’s ridiculous. Not only would a mortal never stand a chance against a god, but it’s impossible to bring a mortal to the mountain." 

“Oh, I assure you, nothing is impossible, my darling.” 

I consider this. 

"Uncle Snow," I begin. "If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?" 

"Why, of course, my dear. In fact, let’s make a pact right now, shall we?” Hesitantly, I nod. “Let’s agree never to lie to each other.” 

This seems foolish‒What reason do my uncle or I have to lie to one another, anyway?‒but I agree. 

“We’ll do as the mortals do.” He looks at me expectantly, and I’m confused. “Shake on it,” he says, extending his hand. I stare down at it. 

“Now, you put your hand in mine,” he explains patiently, and I slide my palm against his and feel him squeeze my hand. 

“So, then, now that we have our pact, tell me,” Uncle Snow takes a sip from his cup, “what do you really think of Cato?” 

“I think he’s vile,” I answer without pause, and my uncle chuckles. “He brought up my scar,” I say. 

“How rude of him,” my uncle remarks, then sighs. “However, it is your own fault your lovely skin was marred forever, niece. Not even Gloss was able to remove the mark.” 

“I know,” I grumble. “But…he would have died.” 

“Such is mortality, Katniss,” he says without a shred of compassion. “Mortals are not long for this world. It isn’t their world, after all; it’s ours. We’re merely allowing them to live in it. Death will come for the boy eventually.” 

Not on my watch, I think. And I don’t know where that came from. Since when am I the boy’s protector? And besides, my uncle is right; eventually, old age will catch up with him, and it’s not like I can chase him into the Underworld…

I digress, and I'm going to question my uncle about the forge, but another fight is about to begin. This one causes Uncle Snow to shift in his seat. 

“Oh, you’re in for a real treat, my darling," he says. "This is a special event. The God of the Sea versus the God of War.”

[cr-noble-writes]

Title: Growing Pains

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Alex Shepard, Pathfinder Ishara, several Asari OCs, Aria T’Loak, Lexi T’Perro

Relationships: Shepard & Ishara, Shepard & sisters, Shepard/Asari OC

Tags: Kid!Shepard, teen!Shepard, Gender exploration, illness, bullying, angst, fluff, backstory, first kiss, first love, biotics manifestation, gnc!Shepard, meditation, mind meld, xenophobia, xenophobic language, misogynistic language, anxiety, arabic, egyptian, fist fight, injuries

Summary: Alex Shepard hopped a cargo ship with an unknown destination when he was twelve and ended up in the Asari colony of Blackdamp on Asteria. He liked the colony, and when he told Ishara—the Asari who found him in the streets—that he’d rather stay in Blackdamp than be sent to the human colony on the other side of the planet, she adopted him.

These are snapshots of Alex’s teen years, one per year, starting at the age of 13 and continuing to the age of 18.

Notes after the cut.

Read the First Chapter Here

Notes: First and foremost, this fic came into existence because I was working on my novelization of the ME1 timeline for Alex Shepard, and I realized that I was having a hard time being in his head to write because I didn’t know him well enough. So after several conversations with a bunch of people, I decided I needed to actually write some of his backstory.

Second: I’ve tagged gnc!shepard, even though there isn’t a whole lot in this fic that’s him glaringly being gender nonconforming (at least in my opinion there isn’t). He was 12 when he left Earth, which is certainly old enough to have a basic concept of gender and gender roles that are part of the human standard. But the Asari are a monogendered species, and that means their cultural concepts of gender are going to be significantly different than human concepts. Given that Alex spends most of his teen years completely immersed in Asari culture, I felt like his own concepts relating to gender probably wouldn’t match up directly with the human standard.

Third: Through some research, I discovered that the one or two Asari words canon gives us seem to be based in Akkadian. Now, as a non-academic person, finding someone who knows Akkadian is kind of difficult. I was, however, able to find someone who speaks Arabic, and I’ve adopted some of the language in this fic. I’ve done my absolute best to make sure I’m using words correctly! Translations will be provided in the end-notes for each chapter.

A huge thank you to CrimsonShield75 for taking the time to give me a solid list of Arabic vocabulary and a bit of a syntax lesson. I really appreciate it so much.

Also a huge thank you to all the people in the Kaidan server because y’all have helped me so much with fleshing Alex out as a character.

A very specific thank you to Redamber79 for constantly being my sounding board, letting me talk at you when I was having trouble working something out, and reading the 50 bajillion snippets I send daily. Love you bestie!

Thanks to @imbiowaresbitch, @bleuzombie for alpha reading this for me! And to @nickelkeep for the beta!

Fic is completely wriiten, edited, and drafted into AO3, and will be posting weekly on Thursdays!

[boatemlag]

if its ok that theyre from a song, fic title: cold nostalgia (chills me to the bone)

cold nostalgia (chills me to the bone)

There's an awkward sort of itch there, and Pearl doesn't scratch it. Instead, she smacks the mosquito bite, and it stings, and she takes no pleasure in knowing that Scott will have felt it, too. -- In which Pearl pointedly does not acknowledge the fire burning in her chest, and summer snow falls on the Double Life server.

send me a title or tags from a fic that isnt written, and ill write a summary!

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Eleven: Vengeance

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Fem!OC

Summary: Captain Zemo roams the high seas thirsting for revenge, and instead, he stumbles upon the shipwrecked and left for dead Mary Spencer. As the sole survivor, Captain Zemo takes her aboard his ship, the Bloody Baron. Engaged to an English Admiral, Mary Spencer wants nothing more than to return home and live the life she was born for. That is, of course, until she realizes what life can be aboard the Bloody Baron with the Captain himself.

Word Count: 5,440

W: language, violence, drinking. With the title being vengeance I think y'all can expect some pirate revenge. Some sexual content.

A/N: I want to thank y'all for going on this journey with me! It's been a long ride, but I've thoroughly enjoyed it. There is, of course, the companion one shot collection, and you can hold me accountable to writing for it by sending in requests! I'll be making a special announcement soon for my next fic, so stay tuned!

previous chapter

Some days, Helmut and Mary never saw each other on the ship until evening. Helmut would wake at dawn, dress and eat breakfast quietly, write a brief note to leave on his pillow for Mary when she woke, and tackle his ever-changing to-do list. He might see her across the deck, exchanging a wave and a smile, but that was all until nightfall. 

They established a routine for days such as that. Helmut would clean away the dirt and grime from his day while Mary found him something to eat. He had a penchant for skipping meals while he worked, and she did not want him to go to bed without eating. While Helmut ate, Mary would dress and tend to her hair for bed. He enjoyed watching her perch on the edge of their bed and work the fine comb through her hair. However, she had no intention of sleeping yet.

Mary might read during the day, but she and Helmut had a book set aside for them. It was theirs to read on nights when they missed each other’s company. Sometimes Mary would read aloud, others Helmut, and some nights they would alternate between pages or chapters. They could not resist the sound of each other's voices and complimented each other often.

On one particular evening, Helmut sat in the plush armchair in the loft while Mary lay across the window seat bench. Before reading, Helmut put a pillow under her head and draped a blanket over her. Helmut read slowly so she could savor every word. With closed eyes, Mary imagined every little detail and feeling. He loved to see her waiting with bated breath whenever he paused.

Helmut halted mid-sentence when someone knocked on the door. He permitted them to enter and slid the fabric bookmark in place. Oeznik entered the room, immediately apologizing for the intrusion, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He glanced at Mary and spoke in English.

“Might I have a word with you?” 

“Of course,” he peered at Mary whose eyes were now open as she watched them, “let’s talk outside in a moment.” Oeznik dipped his head and bowed before leaving. 

Mary did not look concerned, but he knew she was. She wondered what Oeznik would discuss with him at such a late hour, and Helmut knew because he wondered the same. Mary stretched her feet and toes, and she looked at Helmut, albeit upside down. “Should I wait here or the bed?” 

He set the book aside in its usual resting place and stood. Moonlight reflected on the water and through the window, so he closed the curtains. “In the bed. After all, it is getting late.” 

Mary reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll wait for you there.” He would find her half asleep, but no doubt eager to hear what happened. She would never pressure him, of course, but she would offer a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on.

Helmut met Oeznik on the quarter deck. He leaned against the railing, his slippers ill-prepared for the deck, and the wind blowing his dressing robe behind him. Being near the waves calmed him. Whether it was the salty air, the endless water, or the soothing sound of the waves against the ship, he did not know, but when Helmut could not sleep he went there. 

“Are you afraid to confront Walker? You have the materials, you know his routes, and yet we are sailing in circles, sir.” Helmut wondered if these were Oeznik’s words or Sam and James’.

Helmut tipped his head back and cast his gaze upon the stars. It was a clear and bright night, so he saw their patterns and intricacies. He swore his little star had the same constellations on her skin in clusters of freckles and her vast blue eyes. Instinctively, his eyes flicked from Ursa major to Ursa minor: Polaris, the north star. Helmut breathed in and filled his lungs with the briny air. 

He spoke slowly and carefully in his native tongue. His fingers curled around the old railing, and his nails dug into the wood. “When I first swore revenge, I had nothing to lose. Walker took everything but my life, and I was prepared to give it if it meant I would have justice.” His fingers relaxed, but he did not remove them from the railing. He softened with concern. “Now, with Mary, I worry I will not be strong enough. I fear making a mistake. I cannot sleep at night for fear of losing her.” Helmut turned to face his old friend.

“It is a heavy burden you bear, but it is not yours alone.”

“It is mine.” Helmut’s voice cut like a knife. “If she should somehow die, by a stray cannon or gunshot, the answer is clear. I cannot live without her.” He discussed his suicide as simply as he would say the sky is blue and the grass is green. “But Mary? If I die fighting Walker, what will she do?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed. Helmut doubted Walker would spare her. He was not known for mercy. Walker was liable to beat her, rape her, kill her. It was the thought of Mary enduring such abuse that kept him awake at night. 

“That is no way to live, sir. How do you expect to defeat Walker when you cannot sleep and your worries are insurmountable? You cannot!” Oeznik protested. “You must be strong when you face him.”

Helmut nodded subtly and slowly. Oeznik was right; weakening himself before entering a battle was foolish. He strengthened his ship, his crew, and even Mary, but he paid little attention to himself. Helmut needed to rethink his approach: rest, reconsider, regroup. However, he was not yet in the mindset to do so.  

As promised, Mary waited in their bed. She left their bedside candle and extinguished all others. Bathed in the warm glow, Helmut could not help but admire her beauty. He wanted to trace his hands over the plush, indulgent lines of her body. Helmut knew the warmth he would feel, the delighted giggles and praise he would hear, and even the perfumed smell of her: jasmine and rose.  

She looked at him expectantly, so Helmut slipped under the sheets and joined her. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she rested her hand against his chest. Her fingers dug into his chest hair and grasped his necklace. Intrigued, Helmut moved to kiss her lips and slipped his tongue against hers. In a flash of passion, Mary pulled on his chain, drawing him impossibly closer. Helmut repositioned himself on top of her and let his lips wander.

As Helmut pleased his wife, he could not stop himself from wondering if it would be their last time. What if he never felt her fingers tugging on his hair, heard her moaning and whining his name, felt her reach her peak around him again? Helmut wanted to savor every moment and give them both a night to remember. 

Helmut could not postpone his date with destiny any longer. His plan relied on following Walker’s routes and schedules, so he navigated cautiously. He would kick himself if he was too soon or too early and forced to delay longer. 

Every few weeks, Walker stopped at a small, unmarked island to offload any stolen goods before checking in with his official duties. He would then return to the island to load everything back up. Helmut intended to ambush him at the island. With his boat anchored further offshore, and groups loading or unloading cargo, Walker would be at a disadvantage.

As they drew near, Helmut relayed instructions to Sam and James. The cannons needed to be prepared and loaded, their rifles and pistols should be filled with black gunpowder, and everyone aboard must be ready to fight. However, Helmut raised the flag himself. It was not the crossed swords or skull and bones common for a pirate; it was the golden crown and eagle of Sokovia on a purple backing. Walker may not remember that flag, but Helmut did.

Helmut drummed his fingers against the wheel. It was difficult to find particular, small islands amongst the sea, so he referred to his notes and maps. At one point he enlisted Mary to read what he wrote and hold up the map beside him. He warned her in the morning this could be it, and she moved nervously around him. Helmut considered himself finely tuned to his wife’s feelings, so when she pushed aside her unwanted plate, clenched her jaw, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, he knew she was anxious.

Through his wooden telescope, Helmut could see an island with a shoreline sweeping into a cove. If he was correct, Walker’s ship would be hiding on the other side. He collapsed his telescope and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Mary,” his voice was level but strained, “may we speak in my cabin?”

Wordlessly, with her lips pressed into a thin line, Mary followed him. She sat on the edge of their bed and picked at the red quilt. 

“I believe when we sail around the cove of that island, we will find Walker’s ship.” Helmut paused to let her absorb what that meant. “I need you to stay here in our cabin. I cannot be at my best if I am worrying for your safety, and although it could never be completely assured, I would rather have you hidden out of sight than in the midst of our fight.”

Helmut could see her thinking, the furrow in her brow deepened, and he waited for her response. The suspense of the moment, the day, and the years weighed on him. His shoulders hunched, and the sleepless nights showed under his eyes. Mary reached for his hand, and he calmed under her touch. 

“I understand. If my being there puts you at risk, then I will stay here. Hopefully someone does not break in here,” they both grimaced at the memory, “but I have the skills and the tools to defend myself should I need to.”

“Barricade the door, if you must, or break the ladder to the loft. Whatever keeps you safe, sternchen, you must promise me you will do it.” Helmut pressed a light kiss to her knuckles and slowly moved up her arm. If he could devour her in these last moments, he would. 

He nuzzled in her neck as Mary spoke, and she ran her fingers through his hair. “You must promise me that as well, Helmut. I know how long you have waited for this moment, and I know what it means to you, but I need you to return to me.”

“On my honor, I swear to you I will.” Helmut meant it. Pirates do not have a happy ending, they are killed, imprisoned, or mutinied, but Helmut aspired to be different. He wanted to settle the score between Walker and himself, and then he wanted to sail into the sunset with Mary like in the stories.

Helmut dressed himself for a fight. He tucked his loose linen shirt into his pants, and he gathered his pant legs into his tall boots. Helmut fastened his sword belt as tight as he could, and he reloaded his pistol with gunpowder. He reached for his knife, and he made sure Mary had hers. Not wanting her to be unprepared, he found a spare pistol for her as well. Should she be found, she would not need to wait for her attacker to draw near. 

They embraced again before parting ways. Helmut wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. He did not pretend to be naive; he knew this could be his last chance to hold his wife. For this reason, he treasured every second of her touch. 

 The sky was clear and sunny with the promise of purpose. Everyone could feel it in the air, tension and heaviness, which signified an important day. The crew was a powder keg ready to ignite, and Captain Zemo held the match in his leather-gloved hand. The Bloody Baron crept closer to the admiral, and the admiral did not suspect a thing.

Helmut hoped by the time Walker became aware, it would be too late. He paced across the deck as his ship rounded the edge of the islands and would soon be visible. Helmut hoped Walker would not immediately fire on him, being caught off guard, and Helmut could draw near. What was the point of the revenge if Helmut could not see Walker’s life flash before his eyes?

Eagle-eyed, Helmut spotted Walker’s men panicking when they saw his ship. Men, rowboats, and cargo all lay upon the shore, but Walker's ship, anchored offshore, began to sail away. Helmut was not worried as he knew he could catch him. His left hand strayed to his sword belt and fiddled with the handle of his sword.

Oeznik hid below deck in his cabin, Mary sheltered in theirs, Sam signaled from the crow’s nest, and James waited with some of the company to board. Helmut was truly alone as he awaited the perfect moment, yet he did not feel alone. He felt like a puppet master pulling the strings for the performance.

At his command, they fired the swivel guns. Unlike cannons, these were lighter and meant to target people on deck. They were useful before boarding as the less angry men with rifles and swords to greet them, the better. The Admiral’s men were ill-prepared for the ambush, so they made easy pickings for Helmut’s gunmen. They aimed for officers and anyone who gave commands, but they knew to leave Walker for their Captain. 

Delicately and painstakingly, Helmut came alongside Walker. Several feet separated the two great ships and created a chasm no man wished to fall into. The Bloody Baron’s crew mobilized quicker and used ropes, grapples, and boards to bridge the narrow gap. Lithe and quick, Helmut crossed using a wobbly board. 

Swords and gunshots filled the air and drowned out the thud of his boots against Walker’s deck. Zemo cut through the crowd, his heavy coat billowing behind him, fighting any red-coated navy man in his way. He dispatched them with ease as he sought the Admiral. His form was impeccable, his handiwork and his steps light, and he never stopped moving. 

“Baron Zemo.”

Helmut froze in his step, and everyone around him stilled. Walker’s harsh voice was unmistakable, yet he could not see the man. His eyes flicked around. He spotted Walker on the quarter-deck, his red coat gleaming in the sun, and his tricorn hat casting a shadow over his face. 

Walker barked an ugly laugh. “I did not recognize you, but of late your name has been all anyone hears in pubs and taverns.” He descended the curving staircase, one hand on the sliding along the railing, and paused. His mob cleared a direct path for him to Helmut. “You kidnapped my fiancée, killed Selby and Nagel, all to find me?”

Helmut bristled, then he smiled and scoffed. It was not worth arguing his first point when he intended to kill the man. “I’ve thought about nothing else for years.” His voice was quiet, meant for Walker’s ears alone. “I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized,” he hesitated and tilted his head, “there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes.” Helmut chuckled. “It was too dark that night for me to see, but I could never forget you.” He held Walker’s eyes. “I am here because I made a promise, and I intend to fulfill it.”

“Should I draw my sword to make it even?” The crew already cleared a space around them, but at this, they all stepped back again. 

“Please, Admiral,” Helmut entreated. He shrugged off his heavy embroidered coat and rolled his shoulders. His gold and silver jewelry glinted in the sunlight, and the wind ruffled his hair. Helmut unsheathed his cutlass and took his stance. 

Walker boasted strength, and it was reflected in his choice of weapon. His sword was heavy, deadly with one blow, but difficult to wield in a fight. Helmut was quicker on his feet, and he used a sharp sword meant to slice rather than hack. He dodged Walker’s opening move and turned to the side. 

Zemo’s left-handed attacks confused Walker and allowed him to land several maneuvers. Blood stained Walker’s shirt and trickled down his chest, but he pressed on in anger. Helmut nearly missed two of Walker’s strikes, yet he could not sigh in relief. He must exhaust Walker to gain the advantage or disarm him.

The echo of guns and clanging of swords permeated even their cabin at the back of the ship. Mary heard yelling and screaming, curses and cries of victory. It was when the fighting grew quiet that Mary increased her worries. It was too quiet for her to discern anything from her hiding spot, and her stomach tightened in knots. 

She crept out of their cabin with one hand on her dagger at all times. Mary hoped she would not need it, but she felt prepared from Helmut’s lessons. She stepped lightly around the creaking floorboards and listened. Two swords rang against each other, and men shouted, but it was not the cacophony of a battle between two groups.

Standing on the main deck, clinging to the hall door, Mary could not see much. The crew circled around something or someone, their backs to her, and their heads jerked side to side following action. With her heart threatening to beat out of her chest, Mary ascended part of the spiral staircase to the quarter deck. Even if what she saw terrified her, she needed to see it. 

Her husband and her former fiancé dueled. It was an odd phrase, but their conflict was far deeper than her. Even if Helmut never met her, he would have searched across the seven seas for John Walker. She wished vengeance would bring him peace. 

Bright red blood seeped through Walker’s white shirt, but it was not enough to stop him. Mary breathed shallowly as she witnessed their battle. Helmut fought with speed and agility while Walker moved in a cumbersome manner. Her breath caught when Walker swung at him, and she could not breathe again until Helmut dodged. Mary’s nails dug into the railing to steady herself. 

She watched them fight for several minutes, but it may as well have been hours to her. Each passing second filled her with immense dread. However, she could not pull her eyes away from him. She did not even want to blink for fear something would happen in the millisecond she closed her eyes.

Helmut stopped suddenly. He must have spotted something, possibly even her. Rather than avoiding Walker’s sword, he caught the heavy blade in his right side. Mary screamed out in shock and fear. Crimson blood poured from him, he dropped his sword and sank to his knees. Both clusters and their Captains looked at her as she cried. Her shriek alerted them to her presence, but the damage was already done.  

At any other time, she would hesitate to cross the unsteady beams between ships. Mary ran across them now, hiking up her skirts with her fists. She paid no mind to the treacherous waves below her or the people watching her. She needed to reach Helmut.

Mary knelt on the ground beside him, and her long skirts trailed behind her. Blood and sweat made his shirt cling to his chest. Helmut smiled weakly at her, perspiration at his brow, and he took her hand in his. Tears streamed down Mary’s face, and she struggled to find her words. 

His voice was barely a whisper as he assured her. “It will be okay, Sternchen.” He squeezed her hand and brought it to his side. Helmut pressed against his wound, and her hand laid over his. If only her touch could heal… Warm, sticky blood soon coated her palm. Mary stroked Helmut’s cheek with her other hand.

“I thought you must have been kidnapped. Why else would you be seen with a disgraced pirate?” Walker’s voice cut harsher than his sword as he loomed over them. “But I see you’ve spread your legs for him like a common whore.” 

Walker’s soldiers chuckled at her expense, but Helmut’s prepared to defend their Captain and his wife’s honor. They watched their Captain with great attention. One man smiled menacingly with his ax while another wrapped his fingers around his sword. The rules of the fight prohibited them from acting, but if he gave them the smallest of signals they would come to arms. Helmut’s eyes burned with hate and disgust, but Mary straightened her back. She would not shy away from him. 

“Even a disgraced pirate has more honor than you, Admiral.” Mary spat on his polished boot. 

Walker raised his fist to hit his former fiancée, but he did not. Helmut shot him before he could harm Mary. He aimed true at such a short distance, and Walker collapsed before them. His bloody gloved hand held his pistol and remained in the air. All eyes were on Helmut, but he looked deep into his wife’s eyes. It was not part of his plan, but he would not allow Walker to hurt her too. 

Walker’s second in command made a move toward Helmut, but Sam fended off the attack. That sparked another fight between the two crews. They ignored Helmut and Mary in the center of the deck with the deceased Admiral Walker on the edge of her skirt. 

“Are you alright?” he rasped. His brow pinched in pain, and sweat trickled down his chest.

A nervous laugh bubbled out of Mary’s throat. “You’re the one bleeding on the ground, and you’re asking me?” 

“He was going to strike you, like a cowardly man.” He shifted uncomfortably and clasped his hand to his side again. Helmut heaved a heavy sigh. “But I fear you may be right.”

“Here,” Mary tugged at her skirt and removed the knife from her belt. She cut a stretch of fabric from the bottom, folded it, and pressed it against his wound. Then she cut another strip and wrapped it around him. Mary tied it tight to add pressure and compression. “Can you stand? Can you walk?”

“I shall manage.” He glanced around at the ensuing fight. It could be the distraction he needed. Once he returned to his ship he would order his men to return as well. Helmut achieved his goal, and he did not want more of his loyal people to be injured or killed. 

Helmut stood, and Mary gathered his coat off the deck. He appeared steady enough on his feet, one of his hands still clutched on his wound and gestured for Mary to cross first. “Please,” he insisted. Helmut would not risk leaving Mary behind and being accosted by an angered soldier. 

Mary was anxious to cross. The rush of the moment guided her before, but now her fears set in. She tested the creaking board and turned over her shoulder to glance at Helmut. He ceased grimacing to smile reassuringly. Furrowing her brow and biting her lip, Mary took her first steps. 

Although they were not out of danger yet, it comforted Mary to be on the Bloody Baron. She watched Helmut pause before joining her and whistle with two fingers. Once he heard the reciprocating whistle, Helmut trudged across the board. When Helmut returned to his ship, he placed a light kiss on Mary’s forehead and sent her back to their cabin. 

Mary prepared to treat Helmut’s injuries. She knew he would not return until he settled matters with the deceased Admiral’s ship. Then, Helmut would insist his crew see their barber-surgeon first. Mary did not want him to go so long without treatment, so she gathered the bowl of water, a stack of cloth, and strong rum. 

As Helmut’s brigade rejoined him, he issued new orders. Some stayed on deck to man the swivel guns, while others ran below deck to load the cannons. Helmut wanted to see the ship burn, just saw his ship eight years ago. Some of the men would flee, of course, and they would spread the story of this day. 

Helmut Zemo achieved justice for his family. He fulfilled a promise he made not just to himself, but to Heike, Carl, and his father. He even defended Mary from being struck and further disrespected. 

The cannons blew holes in the hull of the ship until eventually, something caught. Gunpowder stores ignited easily, and soon enough flames engulfed the ship. Mary watched it from their cabin as her nails pressed marks into her palms. As Walker’s ship sank into the sea, the Bloody Baron sailed away. 

Helmut entered after, wearing his dark coat again. He shut the door behind him and shrugged off his coat. Mary winced at the blood staining his white shirt, and she urged him to sit in a chair. 

“I saw Stephen,” he huffed as he sat, “and he treated my wound. He said it was not so deep, but I must remember to keep it clean while it heals.” Helmut looked up at her sheepishly through his eyelashes. “I must confess I knew it was not deadly when it happened, but I pretended it was to make Walker think he had the upper hand.”

She thought for a moment. This admission did not console her. Could she have startled him? What if the cut had been worse? What if Walker hastened his movements and killed him whilst he lay on the ground? Mary’s stomach twisted in knots as she set her materials on the table. 

Helmut gently grabbed her wrist and kissed it. He fluttered his dark eyes at her and pulled her from her train of thought. “I am not upset with you for leaving our cabin. I wish it had not spooked me as it did, but there is nothing we can do to change the past. I am glad you and I are safe.”

Tears spilled down Mary’s cheeks, and Helmut wiped them away. He smeared some of the blood coating his gloved fingers onto her face, but she did not care. Mary needed Helmut’s touch and reassurance after such a harrowing day.  

Helmut pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it to the side. No matter how Mary treated it, the shirt was ruined. She studied his back and chest for any new marks, and she cleaned them with the cloth. Stephan stuck a bandage and wrapping around Helmut’s waist. Mary did not dare touch it, but she would inquire later on how to dress it.

Helmut took a swig from the bottle of rum and chuckled. “The good rum again?” 

“It was all you had,” she smiled. Mary remembered the first time she tended to their wounds. They both came a long way since then. She stopped shying away from his touch and began craving it. Mary was no longer afraid of her feelings, and she acted upon them. 

Helmut handed her the bottle so she could disinfect the cuts and scrapes. Mary surprised him by taking a gulp. She wrinkled her nose at the taste, but she could not say she hated it. “How are the crew?” she inquired, dabbing at a light cut on his shoulder. 

“I should think they’re doing the same as you,” he quipped. “Drinking and tending to their lesser wounds.” Helmut heaved a heavy sigh before continuing. “Peter and Rake did not see the end of the fight, and I am afraid Anna may not survive her wounds.” 

“Is she in such dire straits?” Mary remembered seeing Anna around the ship, climbing up ropes and nets with such grace. 

“She suffered many cuts and lost a great amount of blood. Anna will require careful monitoring before we may know for certain.” 

“Poor girl.” Mary manipulated Helmut’s chin with two of her fingers. She scrubbed the blood and dirt off his face and neck. Her finger grazed his lips, and his molten brown eyes met hers. Mary rubbed her thumb along his jaw and watched him soften under her touch. “And how are you, Hel?”

“Exhausted, but content.” He readjusted in his seat to better face her. “I have achieved something I vowed to do, and I have returned safely to you. What more could I ask for, other than a good night’s sleep?” 

A knock sounded on the door, so Helmut told them to enter. Billy anxiously stepped into the room carrying a tray laden with food. The kitchen must be celebrating and making good use of Walker’s stores. Before Helmut sank the ship, he allowed his crew to loot and scavenge. 

“The galley crew thought you might appreciate a bite to eat.” Mary moved the bowls and cloths out of the way so Billy could set the tray on the table. 

“Ah! That’s what I was missing. A good, warm meal to end my day.” Mary laughed and realized her hunger, too. She hoped they did not hear her stomach growl, and she thought of a wine to pair with the meal. Helmut removed his leather gloves and picked up a crust of bread glistening with butter.  

Billy stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Captain, sir?” Helmut, who did not realize Billy waited there as he chewed his bread, cleared his throat. Billy rocked on the balls of his feet, but he stopped when Helmut’s gaze fell on him. “I’ve been thinking, sir, I should learn how to fight so I can defend myself and be of use during attacks.” 

Helmut nodded slowly. He had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear it from the boy’s lips. “Why not ask someone else? Sam and James are both excellent fighters and capable teachers.” Mary poured two glasses of red wine and placed one by Helmut.

Billy looked through his shaggy hair to meet Helmut’s eye. He took a deep breath in, ceasing his wide-eyed stare, and spoke. “Sir, you are the best fighter I have ever seen, and I would like to learn from you.”

“It will not be easy,” Helmut warned, “and it will not be quick.” He eyed Billy, thirteen years old now, and knew it was time for him to learn. “Are you certain?”

“Aye, Cap’n. I am sure.” Billy nodded, and his hair fell back into his eyes. 

He left shortly after, and Helmut assured him he did not need to return for the tray of food. They happily tucked into their meal, speaking little as they ate. Helmut and Mary could sit comfortably in silence without feeling the need to fill it. There was much they could say about the day, breaking it down minute by minute, but they did not wish to do so yet.

After their meal, they prepared for bed. It was early, the sun had not set, but it was what they wanted. Helmut changed into loose linen sleep clothes and was careful not to disturb his bandage. Mary unbraided her hair and combed through the knots and tangles with care. 

Helmut propped himself up against the wooden headboard and admired his wife in the soft candlelight. There were times when he thought he would never see her again, so he cherished every part of her. His dark eyes lingered on her lacey nightgown, more modest than others she owned, but enticing nevertheless. Mary caught his watchful stare in her gilded handheld mirror, and she smirked at him. Helmut winked to assure her that on any other night he would trail his hand up her nightgown, nipping at her lace-trimmed skin. 

They craved a different form of intimacy. Mary slipped under the sheets with him, and she rested her head on his chest. She heard the steady beat of his heart and traced her fingers through the hair trailing down his abdomen. Helmut pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and twisted his fingers into her hair. They lay intertwined until the moon and stars shone through the window and they drifted off to sleep, rocked by the constant motion of the ship. 

For the first time in eight years, Helmut could sleep in complete peace with his little star beside him.

tag list: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @f1yogurt

[ilexdiapason]

🐝 send me a fake fic title, and I’ll make up a summary for it!

"When blades cross"

When Blades Cross by diapason, GoodTimesWithScar

It was supposed to be a ritual like any other. Light the candles, draw the runes, invite the Lady Death to inhabit her beloved's mind and body, then watch Kristin to make sure she didn't absolutely destroy Phil's physical presence in her afternoon of visitation.

One of the runes must have been smudged or something, though - because right now Techno's face to face with a very confused and angry warrior spirit, who doesn't seem to realise that he's possessing Phil, and who demands to know what happened to his lord and master the Red King.

Techno's not, like, greeeat at rune magic. So, until he can get ahold of someone on the mainland who is, he appears to be stuck with the Hand of the King. Here's hoping this guy's good company!

[literallink]

Not sure if anyone has asked already, but I would love to learn more about your SUPER BIG little linked universe warriors fanfiction. :)

HEEHOOHEEHOO OHOHOHOHO YOUVE DONE IT! YOUVE INDULGED ME! I AM ABSOLUTELY VIBRATING WITH SO MANY IDEAS MWAH I LOVE YOU I AM KISSIM YOU ON THE MOUTH!!/p

n ee ways WAHOOGA this "little" idea started around 1 month ago. Upon finding out that Hyrule Warriors Definitive Edition is NOT canon BOOOOOOOO i have decided that fuck it if hyrule warriors isn't canon ANYTHING is canon. or rather, you can do anything in hyrule warriors and it would be supposedly canon in its own universe.

and that's how my most genius idea began: "Warriors is Hylia's OC Do Not Steal," the series. Wait no come baCK I SWEAR ITS GOOD-

"Warriors is Hylia's OC Do Not Steal" is a series about Warriors being absolutely ANYTHING, mostly due to Hylia's interference. It's like those "Prince Wild" or "Legend is Fable's brother" fics, except those are more noticeable trends while Warriors isn't really worked upon beyond the canon events inside his game. Aside from that really good Storyteller!Warriors fic, amazing Mailman!Warriors series and your local wingfic Warriors is pretty much a dot on the Linked Universe AUs. While yes there are LU aus including the whole chain, it's hard to find a Warriors-centric one that wasn't last year or 2020. So god bless silvercaptain they deserve this mention.

To touch more on the WHODNS series (a working title send help) ill have to explain the series within the series first. Basically, I am going to put Warriors into so many situations and some of them will end up getting me so hyperfixated that I will be forced by my own hand to make a series for it. I actually have a series inside WHODNS in the works right now called "Seventeen," I might make a masterpost about all my ideas sooner or later. You're free to ask for now though!

Seventeen is a Warriors-centric series wherein his connection with the royal family and therefore the Zeldas seem to be more intimate than one would think. And no, not THAT kind of intimate. All ships are the canonwise ones currently and never the main focus of the story.

The Zeldas play a somewhat important role in this story, considering the fact that they're actually joining the chain for their adventure. Why? Connected to the plot I can't say shit (..I need help to come up with a name for a group of Zeldas though).

Here's a sneak peek of the first work in the Seventeen series called "I Used to Kid Myself in this Dress." Yes. It's based off of the MARINA and the Diamonds song.

The portals are acting weird. And by that, they’re forcing all the Zeldas to join the chain on their quest to…no one’s really sure, actually. Every Link agrees that they’re happy to finally have their lover, friend or even sister by their side. Except Warriors.

Because his Zelda isn’t even with them at all.

Or 9 times the Zeldas had a less than pleasant interaction with our resident “ladies’ man,” and one time a Zelda actually took the time to understand him and break that stereotype

Not my favorite work of the series (I have like, 2 more), but it IS the first one. The one after this is called "Rise of a King (Fall of a Queen)," which has my favorite summary so far. Both are currently in the works! "I Used to Kid Myself in this Dress" will have 10 chapters, while "Rise of a King (Fall of a Queen)" are still undecided.

Maybe if people like the idea I'll release the summary for "Rise of a King (Fall of a Queen)."

Alright! Time to rant. Warriors' game is a GOLDMINE for multiple situations. As sad as it is that its not canon it baffles me that no one has thought of the possibilities for it in writing (I have a post for it right here! Although it's more or less just cluttered thoughts).

I hope this post sums it up! Sorry if there are instances where my words don't make sense haha, I'm just really happy that someone bothered to even like my post. My brain was just telling me to write EVERYTHING down but that would spoil the surprise. Have a great day!

[grasslandgirl]

15 16 17 for the fic asks!! <3

mwaaahhh kisses kisses tysm jannah !!! <33

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

oh to be so honest? i wing it. sometimes while i'm writing i'll have an organic idea for a fic title or write or reread a line and be like. that's a good title. but more often than not (and jamie and my other friends who help me edit/betaread for me can attest) titling my fics is something i kind of put off to the last second more often then not- like the final draft of the fic will be done and ill be like. ah shit i guess i can't post this under domestic falling in love au on ao3 can i? and then go digging through my spotify for song lyrics that will work as applicable titles ksjfvnskjbksbn

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

as stated before, like 80% of the time at the very end ksjfvnskfb i mostly write under what i call "working titles" that are like. more descriptive couple- word summaries than functional titles and then when i finish writing the damn thing im always like. aw shit i guess i HAVE to have a real title now huh

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

in what should likely be unsurprising, given what i tend to write about, but i don't do a ton of research ? like. any? sometimes ill dig through the applicable wiki of the show/fandom i'm writing for if i need a specific detail or wanna double check something, but other than that i don't research a lot for the fics i write skjvnskjbsnf oops

send me numbers from this fic writer's ask list !!!!

[augment-techs]

{translated} I’m in love with coming apart at the seams, would you be the one to sew me back together + Billy/Skull

Title: the worst sort of fools Rating/Warnings: M; violence; underage. Relationships: Billy Cranston/Eugene Skullovitch; Bulk & Skull; Marah & Kapri & Cameron; Clare/Leelee Pimvare; Victor/Monty; Trent/Cassidy/Devin; Fran/RJ; Betty/Devon; implied Bulk & Jason. Characters: Eugene Skullovitch; Farkas Bulkmeier; Fran; Leelee Pimvare; Clare; Victor Vincent; Monty; Cassidy Cornell; Devin Del Valle; Marah; Kapri; Betty Burke; Ben Burke; Ensemble Teams; Lord Drakkon. Additional Tags: Shattered Grid AU; voyeurism; torture; aftermath of torture; hurt/comfort; emotional/physical/sexual abuse; mental illness; WHUMP; Protective Eugene Skullovitch; Protective Farkas Bulkmeier; Protective Kapri; Protective Cameron Watanabe; Enraged Rangers Coming For Drakkon's Life. Summary: "We will die loving you, and you will never know." Instead of taking on legions and dimensions of Rangers for the sake of one little morpher per team, Drakkon decides to amuse himself with the capture of the people that Finster-5 promises are important to the growth of the Rangers, even if they don't notice it until it's too late. Keeping the pairs separated and in their own groups is the first step; those who exude the characteristics of Purple (with one stray Pink) being put into darkness with sound generators to fool their senses and rile them up; and those who exude Orange being put into too white, too light sterile rooms with a deafening kind of silence to make them close in close to each other and put them on terrible edge. The second step involves putting the Purple (and Pink) group out of balance: unleashing them into a different prison built like a maze with the promise of food and drink and being released back home if they find a way out all together: not one of them thinking much of themselves, but mostly just trying to get back to their other half and their teams, trying to circumvent traps of projectiles, poisons, snares, floor falls, and their own antagonism towards each other. It keeps Drakkon amused, but also annoyed that they don't seem to care much about themselves. The third step comes in petty torments recorded for posterity and sent out to their individual dimensions as a lure: sending in Sentries and Putties to beat on the Orange group--exactly and only one of them being a very good fighter, only one of them being fast enough to evade a direct hit, and one providing distractions to get the others to different rooms and keep them safe for a little while more; all so resilient that it amuses Drakkon tremendously when the recording goes to the Mighty Morphin, Ninja Storm, and Dino Thunder teams and he gets to see the devastation cross the faces of the Dr. Oliver with terrible hair (and his little followers), the sarcastic, too bright for his own good Watanabe, and the Billy Cranston he hadn't killed yet. The forth step was waiting. (The fifth step, though not Drakkon's, were the groups getting out of their respective cages to try and make their way back to each other and then their own dimensions. Bloody and tired, but still trying.) * (I may well end up at least writing a small thing for this, if only in flash fics.)

[awanderingmuse-fandom]

Monthly Writing and Reading Update

Long time no see Tumblr. I am working towards ending my Super Long Hiatus not because life has slowed down but because I am tired of being on hiatus. That means Monthly writing updates to keep me on track. I'm also posting what I've read this month for the interested. Said updates are below the cut.

If you have any fics you want to recommend that I read feel free to send me an ask or a message! I'm always looking for new fic to read... 

WRITING UPDATE

Hybrid Theory

Percy dies in battle.  A very tragic death that wasn’t at all lame, thank you. Unfortunately, the gods aren’t done with him yet. Instead of waking up in Charon’s waiting room as he should, Percy wakes up in the courtyard of Hotel Valhalla.  Thinking things can’t possibly get worse he runs to Carter Kane for help. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

I’ve not made a lot of progress here since I’ve gone on hiatus... I’ve not been in a good headspace to try to work on it tbh. That being said, I’m drafted to Chapter 27 and outlined to Chapter 30.

 World Travelers: A World Around

No summary written yet. Basically it’s part six of my bountyhunter!Nico, seafarer!Percy adult!demigods Percico AU. 

I’ve drafted to Chapter 5 drafted and outlined to Chapter 12. It will be 21 chapters long. Nothing is posted on AO3 yet. 

Ways of Love: Part 3

No ritle. No summary written yet, it’s what it says on the tin. 

I just wanted to say I do think about this still. It lives in my brain...just very quietly. I’ve written part of Chapter 1?

Assassinations, Building Nations, and International Relations

The war has been over for a year and the tenuous peace has held. Everyone has gone home and while Team Avatar misses each other, life has been going great. Until Aang gets a mysterious note from Zuko. A midnight trip to the Sun Warriors has much further reaching consequences than anyone could anticipate. But the first, and biggest, item on the agenda is to keep the Fire Lord alive.

This one is suffering from Writers Block TM. I know where I am and where I want to go and I have NO IDEA how to do the between part. That being said I’m drafted to Chapter 13 and outlined to Chapter 14.

White Lotus Buds (Working Title)

Music night washes over Iroh. The crew’s attention  on each other means no one notices  their allegedly ill prince slipping over the side of the Wani and onto the dock. 

Zuko, as The Blue Spirit, is leaving to meet another White Lotus Bud agent to exchange information on the Earth Armies for similar details on Fire Nation troops. 

The White Lotus Buds are more successful than Iroh expected. Sometimes he thinks the war would end in days if they left the operatives in charge. 

The White Lotus Buds were inspired by Zuko himself. It wasn't difficult to connect The Blue Spirit’s earlier escapades with Zuko. Not once one realized there were connections to make.

Iroh does not know when the sneaking began, though he has his suspicions. Ten year old princes don’t go missing for days on end easily. And there's the  ambiguity surrounding  Azulon’s death and Ursa’s sudden flight. When it started doesn’t truly matter when Zuko will not speak of it.

 Iroh lets himself be drawn into the singing of an old sea shanty. It helps keep an old man awake, which he will need if he wants to be alert for his nephew’s return later that night.

This is a White Lotus!Zuko AU and a Blue Spirit AU and a Zuko joins the Gaang early AU. With lots of Zutara and lots of identity shenanigan's. 

I have drafted the first 14 chapters for Book 1. I have outlined the first 22 chapters and have notes for every episode of Book 1. This one won’t post until Book 1 is done because I keep having to rewrite parts of chapters as I go. 

When the Dark Comes Rising: Gathering

With another Rising in its infancy the remaining five must gather. As a safeguard the Light left certain defensive measures in place. It us up to Will, Bran and Jane to assemble those defenses. In the process they must discover the loving bonds that will be the foundation for the Circle to come.

This is also not dead. I think about this often. I have drafted to Chapter 12 and outlined to Chapter 14.

These Temperamental Days: On Balmy Nights I Know That I Am Yours

No summary as of yet on these. It’s Marvel and Stucky post Civil War. I’m about halfway through? 

READING UPDATE

Avatar Fic

Fear the Dragon, Not the Flame by Des98

Azula is born without bending. It doesn't change who she is, but it does change everything else.

Nobel Boldness Series by hootowl

“Because they're going to arrest me for earthbending.” And they did, but things didn't go according to plan. In fact, failure had never even crossed her mind. A capture!fic...of sorts.

Fate Deferred by  catie_writes_things

At the south pole, Katara and Sokka returned to their village with only a few small fish to show for their trouble. “Stupid magic water,” Sokka grumbled, while Katara fumed silently.

Aboard his ship, the banished Prince Zuko admitted with a tired sigh that his search of the southern seas had proven unfruitful. “Tell my uncle...we’re going to try the eastern Air Nomad territories again.”

Underneath the waves, within his frozen cocoon, the Avatar slept still, and the world continued to move on without him.

-----

Aang remains in the iceberg ten years longer. He awakens to a very different world.

[Now on Book II: Earth]

Still Burning Embers by archergwen

It's been three years since Sozin's Comet should've returned - and it hasn't. The war drags on, complicated, messy, as the Avatar and his band roam shoring up defenses and helping in small raids.

And in Ba Sing Se, there is no war, or rumors of war. Not even after the Fire Princess took the city in one complicated day. So in the Lower Ring, a young prince and retired prince can continue to work, disguised, silent guardians of the small world they've carved for themselves.

Until an encounter, one night, wrapped in flames, ends that.