#anyways reincarnation always gives me angst

[jennifer-jeong]

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

Fluff + Angst | LADS x Fae!Reader Angel

CONTENT Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[googleitlol]

Aaaah, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you with all these asks, but I have to know this! How would Black Myth Wukong go with Dove in it, considering the story? Especially with what happened to the original Wukong and her potential interactions with the Destined One?

OOOOOOOH THIS ONE IS INTERESTING!! Also, don't ever apologise for giving me asks to answer, I love yapping so you're doing me a favour. Also I hope you know the vault of angst and depression you just opened

Ok so just letting you know, I have two different endings for PoM I may go with: a happy ending… and a less happy ending. Since I'm already feeling depressed, I'm gonna answer this as though the less happy ending is what happens. In it, Dove gains immortality (but for reasons I won't disclose yet) and is separated from everyone forever, including Wukong. He can't even try to save her because, well… spoilers.

I know the basics of the game lore so sorry if I get anything wrong/misunderstand anything, but this is how I think it'd go. Also, spoilers under the cut for Black Myth Wukong.

TW: Suicide

So from my understanding, the Destined One isn't technically Wukong, but he inherits his memories by the end of the game. With that in mind, I see this going similar to what I've seen of Wukong finding a reincarnated reader, but reversed.

Dove eventually escapes the place she is trapped in, but by the time she makes it back to Flower Fruit Mountain to find Sun Wukong… the worst has already happened. Erlang is the one who tells her how Sun Wukong ended his life, his final plan to free himself from the Heaven's grasp.

Before being separated, Dove had already learned some hard truths from Guan Yin about events concerning her past. Learning about what her master had been keeping secret from her, and then the relief of seeing her love again being crushed by the reality of his suicide, it breaks her. She had spent years fighting to get back to her Peaches, to the one that she could always depend on. He was with her when she learned about Guan Yin's secrets, they had to drag him away from her the day they were separated– it hits her then, the last moment she ever saw him was when he was in pain, clawing at demons that pulled him further away from her. The last she ever saw of those beautiful sunset eyes… they were filled in anguish and rage.

After learning of Sun Wukong's fate, Dove grows bitter and cold. She doesn't return to Potalaka Mountain– she can't stand to be in the presence of any of the deities anymore, not even the one who raised her. Who lied to her. Moksa checks in on her every now and then, from a distance, she won't talk to him either. It's a pitiful sight, how she becomes a shell of her former self. Dove cuts contact with nearly everyone and travels the road on her own, helping people where she can, but no task she does is ever enough to distract her from that emptiness that takes root inside. It's painful, and no matter how hard she tries, that pain won't go away.

Then, by chance, she comes across a monkey demon.

Confusion is the first word that comes to mind when describing her reaction to seeing the Destined One for the first time. Maybe her mind is just playing tricks on her again… but this doesn't feel like she's seeing things. He feels real. Dove has already gone through the emotional ups and downs of meeting a reincarnated loved one before, but this is different. It's different because it's Sun Wukong. There has never been another like him.

She does suppose the same holds true once she spends more time with the Destined One, he isn't like Sun Wukong. He's more… stoic. He doesn't say much, and compared to the talkative Monkey King, it's a little unnerving at first. Is this really the person she loves? It's a question she struggles with as she goes through the game with him, helping him. Travelling with the Destined One, it's almost reminiscent of the original journey. That's what Dove tells herself, anyway.

Whether or not it really is him, it's safe to say any reincarnated/reborn Monkey King would be falling for Dove pretty hard. I'm still figuring out how the Destined One would be around her at first, maybe he's a little put off by this strange immortal woman who decided to tag along with him. She's helpful, so he doesn't mind the company, but that doesn't stop him from wondering why she's with him. Maybe there's one night where she's helping him recover from a serious fight, probably scolding him for something reckless he did as she works her magic and all he can do is frown. Why does she care so much about him?

Whether he can understand her motives or not, he does appreciate it. Having another person to face these hardships with, someone who has his back through the toughest battles and his lowest moments, he's never had that before. Or maybe, it's just something he's missed. It's strange, how she is able to comfort him. Not just because of her tranquil power, it isn't necessarily her calming aura that puts his mind to rest… there's something deeper, something that tugs at his chest and pulls him to her. This longing to be near her.

He wants to know more, ask why she's so intent on helping him, but Dove is good at avoiding questions, she's constantly guarded around him. The Destined One likely wouldn't pry as much as Wukong would in this situation, but his curiosity still kills him inside. Instead of getting his answers from her, he starts finding the answers in his head, with educated guesses. Maybe Dove was just so awe-struck by his handsomeness that she decided to help him in any way she can, on the spot. He liked that theory 😏

As their journey continues, they do warm up to each other more. Maybe they pass through a village in the midst of a celebration and Dove manages to convince the Destined One to dance with her. Sun Wukong did the same for her all those years ago. Maybe one night after setting up camp for the night, the Destined One begins to comb through her hair, not thinking too much of it since it's normal for other monkeys to preen through one another's hair, it's a show of his affection.

Dove is usually so guarded, but in that moment her walls come crumbling down. She tries to push down her silent sobs, but it's difficult. Sun Wukong was the last person to go through her hair like this, and the simple action brings back so many fond memories. When he realises she's crying, he stops but she grabs his hand before he can fully pull away.

"Don't stop, please. It's okay, I'm… I'm okay."

Maybe he pulls her close after that, holding her in his arms as she does the same. There's so much pain in her heart, and all he wants is to take it away. The only question is, how?

By the end of the game where the Destined One gains all of Wukong's memories, so many of Dove's actions become clear to him. She can see in his eyes when he looks at her, a new hint recognition in his features as she realises who she really is, who she was to Sun Wukong.

Even by this point, Dove is conflicted over her feelings for the Destined One. She's come to love him throughout their journey, but is it the same love? Or is there some part of her brain convincing her it has to be the same, that this is the same man she fell in love with. Does she love this new Monkey King, or the memory he represents?

If one thing is for certain, the Destined One is confident in his feelings for her. Even before receiving those memories, he had been falling for Dove with every moment they spent together. If anything, these memories only make his love for her stronger, knowing what they've been through in a past life, how she stayed by him through this new journey because of their past.

…But he can't be sure whether she feels the same. Not when he still doesn't know if he is Sun Wukong, or just holds his memories now. It's something they'd have to work through and figure out together, but one thing is for certain. Dove doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! I really love your work! Please rest if you need to!

Can you please do Donna x Reincarnated!Reader?

So apparently they were childhood friends (who crushes each other but never officially in relationship) but R died and Donna became the even more reclusive as she is. However, decades later a researcher from outside the village came to do some research and she has the same face as R, turns out it was R who got reincarnated. But R has no memories or whatsoever, but frequently got dejavus or dream about the Manor, dolls, and a faceless woman (who is ofc Donna). R feels very familiar with the house and take residence in the manor with Miranda's suggestion. And Donna tries to get closer to R, knowing it is R reincarnated and they were kinda yearning for each other a lot during the times they live tgt, but Donna being Donna, she's too shy and pessimistic with her "deformed" face (eventho Past!R said Donna's past scarred face when Donna was young is beautiful) and she eventually take off her veil and R still found her so beautiful and enamored all over again. Even more~

Also Angie can be the wingman for both of them~ until they both confessed to each other and got together then R remembers everything.

It can be angsty or hurt/comfort with lots of fluff :3

Yesss!!! Thank you for your words, and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

I know who you were

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reincarnated! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Donna being Donna, fluff, happy ending, as always ;)

Word count: 9,039

Summary: Why? Why is everything in that house so familiar to you?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Tanti auguri a te…

That innocent birthday song was overshadowed by a few claps, while someone, someone you weren't able to make out, blew out the candles on a cake. The number on them was 16, you'd have to remember that.

“Come on D… make a wish,” you said excitedly, happy for the joy of that person, that girl who had no face, who had no name.

“Oh… I…” the mysterious girl stammered, with a distorted voice, an impossible one to understand clearly. “Okay, I wish…”

“No, no, if you say it, it will never come true!” you shouted.

“She's right, Mistress…” another dark voice said, it seemed like a man's voice. “Try to say it mentally.”

“Could Angie also make a wish?” that broken, blurry, dark voice said. Angie, a name you should remember…

“Hey, stranger,” a male voice brought you out of that little nap. The car was no longer moving. You had reached your destination. “Wake up, we're here.”

“Ugh…” you protested, yawning, quickly taking out the notebook you always carried with you and writing down those details that seemed relevant:

16 years old

Angie

“Are you going to stay there all day?” the taxi driver insisted, in an unpleasant way, but with a tremor in his voice that revealed something different, an unknown fear.

You frowned, picking up your backpack and getting out of the vehicle after paying the man, who seemed to sigh in relief.

“I see that kindness is not your thing,” you murmured, still sleepy. The man laughed, shaking his head.

“Not when a foreigner asks me to take her here,” he defended himself, counting the money you gave him. “Let me give you some advice…”

You nodded curiously, putting your backpack on your shoulders, checking that your phone had no signal, so you snorted.

“Don't let the wolves eat you…” the taxi driver said laughing, starting the car and disappearing down that snowy road.

“How funny, look how I laugh,” you said in a mocking tone, with a face of displeasure. “Anyway…”

After taking a look around, you finally saw the village, your destination. As you went down those dangerous hills, you took out the paper you had in your pocket, one that only had one name written on it: Miranda.

Your trip to Europe was not a coincidence, or something you wanted to do while you had finished college. No, it was something different. As a student of plants, of ecosystems, your intention was to investigate that place, one that your own parents recommended to you.

They were scientists. They dedicated their entire lives to the amazing field of biology. As a good daughter, you followed in their footsteps, trying to complete your doctorate with something new, something original. Your parents were the ones who told you about that place, that village where they worked years ago, with another scientist, the so-called Miranda.

Without thinking much, you headed to Romania, alone, willing to make them proud.

“Excuse me, miss,” you said kindly to a villager you crossed on the way. The woman looked at you suspiciously and stopped. “Do you know where Miranda lives?”

The woman opened her eyes and shook her head, walking away from you with a scared face.

“Oh, okay,” you said, crossing your arms, taking a look at that sinister place. Your eyes narrowed while in your head your thoughts seemed to find that place in one of your memories, in one of your dreams.

You may have been a scientist, but not even the most experienced doctor could tell you the meaning of those recurring dreams, strange dreams about houses, dolls, faceless girls...

You had been dreaming about those things for so long that you started your own research. Everything was always blurry. You would forget it after a few hours, so you decided to write it down. You didn't know if you could ever solve the mystery, but at least it wasn't always present in your mind.

“(Y/N), right?” a voice behind you, along with that slightly sinister atmosphere, made you jump in place.

Behind you was a woman, a strange woman dressed in priestess clothing, blonde, elegant, with a smug smile.

“Oh, yes, it's me,” you said nervously, embarrassed by your reaction. The blonde looked at you, without removing that smile from her pale face. “Are you Miranda?”

“Yes, I am,” she answered dryly, turning around and indicating for you to follow her.

“Your parents were very considerate in advising you to work with me,” the strange woman commented, serving you what seemed a cup of tea.

You nodded, staring at the priestess. You weren't expecting a young woman, or at least not that young.

“Yes, and, I, I appreciate your hospitality,” you said pleasantly, tilting your head. Miranda looked at you curiously and laughed softly, sending a shiver through your body.

“Anything for my old friends…” she said in a soft voice, sitting down at a desk. You shifted a nervously, something that the woman noticed. “Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, it's just that… I, I didn't expect you to be that young,” you said sincerely. She laughed again in a sinister way, shaking her head.

“I suppose it's understandable… The last time I saw you, you were just a crying baby,” she joked. You were surprised by that statement, feeling more and more uncomfortable. Was it a dream?

“Did you know me?” you asked, surprised. As far as you knew, you had been born on the other side of the ocean. The priestess frowned, as if she knew she had said something she shouldn’t, something you didn’t know.

“Let’s leave formalities aside,” the blonde sighed, taking an old file from a shelf and placing it on the table. “The first thing is to find you a place to stay.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, nodding, looking at those old photographs of the village. One of them, an old house, guarded by a waterfall, caught your attention.

It wasn’t just the peculiarity of that place, its beauty. You had seen that house before, in your dreams. You were sure.

“Wait a moment,” you said, putting a hand on the page so she wouldn’t keep turning it. Miranda stopped, looking at you in silence while you took out your inseparable notebook.

A house with a waterfall, surrounded by forest.

A dark forest, a small clearing where there was a grave

A wooden bridge swinging over a cliff

All of those were notes from your dreams. You couldn't stop looking at that photograph. It was that house, that very house.

“Is something wrong?” Miranda asked, while you examined your notes. You looked up and shook your head, rubbing your forehead, which was already breaking out in nervous sweat.

“No... It's just that... That house,” you said, pointing at the photograph. Miranda frowned and approached it, looking at you confused.

“That house?” she asked curiously, her eyes staring into yours.

“Yeah, I've seen it before, I'm, I'm sure,” you murmured, confused, thinking that maybe you were still asleep in that taxi.

“How can that be possible, (Y/N)? It's the first time you've come here,” Miranda said, with a suspicious but interested tone.

“I know but… I, I've dreamed about that house, I'm completely sure,” you said, placing your finger on the photograph, sighing and shaking at that coincidence.

“Dreamed,” the priestess said, with apparent disinterest.

“Yes, I… Tell me, is there a wooden bridge to get there? An elevator?” you asked, without thinking very well about what you were saying. They always told you that those dreams weren't important. Your PhD could be in danger if Miranda considered you a disturbed person.

Her eyes closed slowly as she nodded, confirming your intuition.

“Tell me, (Y/N)…” she murmured, slowly getting up from the desk, not taking her gaze off yours. “Does the name Donna Beneviento sound familiar to you?”

You could barely hear it, but you tried to look for that name in your notebook, or one similar. No, it didn't ring a bell. You had never heard it before. It was a completely unknown name to you.

“No, it doesn't ring a bell,” you said, shaking your head and frowning, putting your notebook away again, trying not to get nervous.

“Mm,” the blonde murmured, sketching a brief fake smile, as if downplaying your words. “Well, I think I know where you're staying… Excuse me a moment, I have to make a call.”

You nodded, relaxing, still looking at that picture while the priestess picked up an old phone, dialing a number on it and waiting impatiently.

“Donna, dear…” the woman commented. You turned your head slightly to pay attention to that conversation. “Yes, yes… Listen to me… No, Donna, I said listen to me. I have a job for you… Oh, no, a simple one… A stranger has come at my request to do some research in the village… No, nothing like that… No, Donna, taci…” she murmured, looking at you, realizing that you were listening to her and rolling her eyes mockingly.

You looked away. Well, after all, you didn't need eyes to listen.

“The girl comes to investigate about plants, fauna, you know, those stuff…” she continued talking. “Simple, dear, she will stay with you. Yes, Donna, in your house… Oh, please, can you just speak up for yourself? That puppet of yours is giving me a headache.”

Puppet?

“Oh, much better…” Miranda sighed, relaxing her tone of voice. “No, Donna, I'm completely serious, the girl will stay with you and there is no discussion possible. Try to be nice, mm? Oh, and keep Angie out of it, at least for a while, I don't want the girl to run away, yet…”

Those words were like a switch for your nerves, making you tense. Angie, that name, Angie, you had heard it in dreams, you had written it down.

Miranda hung up the phone, bringing you out of your thoughts and approaching you again.

“Well, it seems you already have accommodation,” she said, joining her hands, with a slightly different attitude. “You will stay with Donna, one of the village Lords. Not all outsiders are so lucky, right?”

“Lord?” you asked curiously. Miranda laughed in a fake way, nodding.

“Relax, dear, I'm sure you'll get used to this place little by little. Oh, and one more thing… Donna isn't… Well, let's say she's not very well in the head so… Be careful with what you say, mm?”

“Not well in the head? Is she dangerous?” you asked, a bit scared.

“Oh, no, she’s not… Well, if you're careful, of course,” she joked disinterestedly. Your desire to leave the village increased by the moment. “She's a very peculiar woman, but I'm sure she'll be nice to you if you're nice to her.”

“Miranda… Who's Angie?” you asked again, acknowledging that, indeed, you were aware of that phone conversation.

“Mm, I suppose you'll find that out in time too,” she answered coldly, dryly, making a gesture to indicate you to get up from the chair. “Now go, I'm busy.”

“Okay, okay,” you whispered, getting up, frowning. “How do I get to that house?”

“I'm sure you'll know how to get there, (Y/N),” Miranda said, writing something on some papers, not paying attention to you.

Confused, you left that kind of laboratory, looking around for the way to that mansion, to the house that repeatedly appeared in your dreams.

“Oh, excuse me, sir,” you said, stopping a man who was pulling an old cart. “Would you be so kind as to tell me how to get to Donna Beneviento's house?”

The man opened his eyes wide, leaving the cart on the ground and shaking his head.

“Do you want to die, girl?” the villager growled, leaving you stuck in the snow. “Stupid outsiders...” he hissed before picking up the cart again, looking at you with a disgusted face.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, furious at that attitude, or rather, scared.

You walked through the village in confusion, not knowing where to go, not knowing which way to go. You decided to stop asking, since no villager seemed willing to help you.

“Oh…” you said, stopping at an old wooden door with a symbol engraved on it: a moon and a sun. Again, you reached for your notebook. You had seen it before, in your dreams, you had drawn it on one of the pages. “I, I guess it’s this way.”

Your nerves prevented you from remembering, from focusing your gaze on those trees that seemed familiar to you, on that wooden bridge that you heard creaking in the same way as in your dreams. You hadn’t been wrong, that was the way to the mansion.

As you crossed that bridge, a strange feeling invaded you, one that you hadn’t had for a long time. Two abandoned cabins were next to you, two cabins surrounded by stone angels that you approached automatically, putting a hand on them.

“You can’t get me, you can't get me...” a voice sang.

“What?” you asked confused, at the sight of a girl running through that place, a girl being chased by another one. The sensations, the voices and strange images were also part of your life, although never that intensely. “I think, I think I need a break...”

Walking a little further, you came to that clearing, one decorated with a grave that jutted out of a mound, the grave of a girl, Claudia Beneviento.

“Now she walks through the valley of death... How sinister,” you said, reading the inscription on that tombstone.

“I should have died instead of her...”

“Don't say that, you would have left me without you...”

Children's voices came back to torment you. They weren't visions, nor dreams. They were sensations, air currents that carried those voices to your mind, faceless, meaningless voices.

Finally, going up an archaic elevator, the mansion stood before you. It was the same waterfall, the same sound of running water, the same cool, damp breeze, the same smell of flowers. Everything was the same.

“Ahem,” you said, climbing the steps towards that house, meditating, making the decision to knock on the door instead of running away and never coming back. “Hello?”

The door suddenly opened before you knocked, making you step back. A woman appeared, dressed in black, with her face covered by a veil, Donna Beneviento, surely.

“Hello… I'm…” you said shyly, kindly extending your hand towards the woman, who seemed nervous, frozen, with her hands shaking.

“No… It can't be…” a hoarse voice whispered from behind that veil, taking several steps back. “You, you can't be here.”

The lady seemed very nervous, too much. Yes, you knew she wasn't mentally well, but that attitude didn't make any sense.

“Miranda told me I would stay with you for a while and…” you stammered. She shook her head profusely, breathing heavily. “Oh, hey, are you okay?”

“It's not true… This, this can't be true…” she muttered to herself, turning around and resting her hands on her head, moving on herself. “No, you're not here…”

“Well, yes, I am,” you said cautiously, getting a little closer to the lady, risking putting a hand on her shoulder, a hand she immediately pushed away with a furious growl. “You… You're Donna, aren't you?”

“What? You're asking me my name? How dare you show up at my house and…?” she stammered, pushing you away unpleasantly. “Non… Non è possibile…”

You stepped back a little, looking at the door, seriously considering turning back. But it wasn’t fear or that woman’s erratic attitude anymore, something else was pushing you to stay, a heavy feeling that fell on your shoulders.

“Oh, Italian… Okay…” you murmured, remembering Miranda’s advice: be nice. “Um.. Io… Sono… Sono…”

“Stop pretending!” she squealed, nervous, pointing at you with her finger “You know Italian perfectly.”

“What? No… Of course I don’t…” you said confused, frowning and putting your hands in a surrender position.

“Of course you do, I… I was the one who…” she hissed, sighing nervously, controlling her breathing. “You… You are…”

“(Y/N),” you said with more courage, extending your hand again towards her, who seemed to stop when she heard your name. “Mi, Miranda has spoken to you, I’m the girl who…”

“(Y/N)? Is that your name?” she asked with a calmer tone, but with her hands shaking as she approached again. “Are you sure?”

You laughed confused, running a hand over your forehead as you nodded.

“Well, quite sure,” you joked, biting your lip, watching how that madness dissipated little by little.

“How old are you?” the lady in black asked, curious, uneasy, but at the same time, more serene.

The question surprised you, but you shrugged. After all, you were her guest.

“25,” you answered in a kind tone.

The lady in mourning sighed, letting her shoulders fall, shaking her head.

“25…” she repeated, in a whisper. “I see… No, it can't be…”

“Um, I…” you said, interrupting her senseless murmurs. “I, I don't want to be a bother, really. I can, I can find another place to stay and…”

“No,” she said dryly, with a brusque, sudden tone. “Mother Miranda has ordered me to take you in, and that's what I intend to do.”

“Mother Miranda?” you asked, frowning at that strange name, that curious nickname.

“Come,” the lady said, turning and going up the stairs, where, on the wall, a portrait of a woman seemed to be watching you.

It was a beautiful woman, wearing the same dress as Lady Beneviento, holding what looked like a sinister doll. A shiver ran down your spine again.

“How cool, it's really cool!”

“My dad gave it to me, it's called...”

“Here, (Y/N),” the woman in black interrupted that kind of feeling, those voices that echoed in your head, pointing to a small room, where you would surely stay.

“Oh, okay... Do I stay here?” you asked nervously, passing by her, smelling the lavender of her perfume, one that, strangely, also seemed familiar to you.

She nodded slightly, letting you pass without taking her hidden gaze off you, you could feel it.

“Th, thank you… Donna? Lady Beneviento?” you said with exaggerated kindness. A growl came from the black veil, as if the simple act of saying her name had been terribly offensive to her.

She didn't answer. She simply left the room, closing the door with a loud slam.

“Well, it could have been worse,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the small bed.

You were too tired to start your research and, after everything that had happened, you decided to call it a day, lying down and closing your eyes.

“You're wrong... Nobody could ever, ever like me with... This, this face...” a young woman said, again, without a face, without a clear voice, sitting next to you in a vague place.

“Nonsense, you are... You are beautiful, D…” you said, convinced of something you couldn't see.

“No, I'm not,” the teenager said, with a voice that was increasingly dark and distorted.

“I, I like you...” you said shyly, looking at your legs, dressed in a strange dress, full of patterns of colors that you had never seen before.

“Do... Do you like me?” the young woman asked, with a distant voice, just as vague.

You nodded, with the familiar burning sensation of blushing on your cheeks.

“I like you too…” that dark voice said, that blurry figure, leaning closer to you. “Even though… Even though we are friends, I… I wanted, I wanted to tell you that…”

Suddenly you opened your eyes, waking up from a dream like any other, of conversations with a faceless woman, with an unknown girl, a conversation too lucid, too concrete.

“Uff…” you sighed, sweating in bed, shaking your head and looking for your notebook, although you had nothing to write on it. “When I get home, I'll have to see a doctor…”

Tired, needing to freshen up, you left the room in search of the bathroom, peeking through the door, checking that there were no sinister ladies nearby.

The house was completely dark and, not wanting to disturb your hostess's rest, you took out your useless phone, turning on the flashlight to guide you around that place.

“Much better…” you sighed when you refreshed yourself in the sink, with that inaudible voice, with that feeling from your dream still very present in your thoughts. You turned off the tap, or well, you tried to, it seemed that the sink had no intention of obeying you.

As if you had a silent revelation, you pulled the handle, moving it gently until the water stopped coming out. It was like… Like you suddenly knew you had to do this, like you'd done it before.

You stood there, stunned, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“There's a trick, you have to pull it a bit, otherwise it won’t close… My parents say that one day they will fix it…”

Again that strange voice passed through your mind, forcing you to put your hands on your temples, which were throbbing intensely, threatening another one of your horrible migraines, migraines that you had since you were very young.

“Not now…” you said in a whisper, knowing that you hadn't brought your medications, that you didn't consider them a priority. “Shit, does this crazy woman have some ibuprofen?” you asked, walking towards the stairs, going down them slowly.

The portrait caught your attention again, that stoic beauty, that sinister puppet…

“Hello? Lady Beneviento?” you asked in the darkness, illuminating the mansion with your phone, getting no answer. “I'll have to look on my own… I'm a researcher, right?” you joked to yourself, passing through the door that seemed to lead to a dining room, one that, somehow, you found familiar.

The musty smell, the furniture, that feeling of loneliness you had already felt. You didn't have to pay attention to the obstacles, you dodged them without wanting to, knowing where they were. You didn't give it any importance, your head was already starting to hurt.

A creaking sound behind scared you, the sound of wood sinking under something, a small footstep. Nothing, everything seemed to be as usual. Everything? No. In a small corner, on top of a sofa that you thought was empty, there was something, something sinister that you recognized instantly, a doll, the same doll in the portrait.

You were born curious. Nothing could stop you from approaching it.

“What is this?” you asked, approaching the puppet, carefully picking it up and moving it in your arms. The sound of the wooden joints caused another horrible feeling of déjà vu. “A ventriloquist doll?”

You examined that doll with curiosity, moving it to look for something, something that would tell you why your heart had started beating fast.

“Why do I have the feeling that we have seen each other before?” you murmured, passing your hand over its broken face, destroyed by the arrangements that it had to have over time.

“Ha! Not at all, stupid! Get me off your filthy foreign hands, stupid, stupid!”

“Yiahhh!” you screamed, letting the puppet fall to the floor.

It couldn't be a dream, or a nightmare, or even your imagination. You had seen that doll move, you had heard it speak. You weren't crazy, you had heard it.

“Shit,” you said scared, stepping back, looking at the doll, which was now inert on the floor. “What the...?”

Fearful, you picked up your phone, pointing it again at the doll, which didn't seem to move. Relieved because you thought it had been a silly thing, you picked it up again, leaving it on the couch with a frown.

“Damn jet lag…” you lamented, passing a trembling hand over your forehead, sighing, watching that horrible doll.

But the doll was not the strangest thing of all. In a corner, on a nearby table, there was what looked like an old framed photograph, a black and white one, straight out of another era. Two girls appeared on it, one of them dark-haired, with hair as black as the night, with skin as pale as the Moon. On her face there was a scar that kept her right eye closed.

You didn't know who she was, you couldn't know, even though she looked suspiciously like the woman in the portrait, a few years younger, of course.

But that coincidence wasn't what made your body tremble again. Next to her, another girl smiled excitedly, holding a teddy bear. You had to look at her several times to make sure that, like that doll, it hadn't been some kind of hallucination due to the time change.

“No...” you sighed, picking up that photo, looking at that girl over and over again. “It can't be...”

You nervously picked up your phone, hurriedly browsing through the photo gallery until you found what you wanted, a photo of yourself when you were little, a photo of a girl identical to the one in that portrait.

“Amazing,” you said, comparing the two photos. There was a rather disturbing resemblance.

A sinister laugh distracted you from your astonishment. You searched everywhere, focused on the doll. Nothing.

Fearful and scared, you decided to go back to your room. Maybe in daylight you could clarify everything.

“Good, good morning,” you said in a timid voice, rubbing your eyes as you walked down to the dining room. The lady in black was already there, sitting at the table, quiet, as if she were a ghost, as if she wasn't even there.

Walking towards the table, you glanced at the doll, which seemed to still be in the same position. Donna's response to your kindness was a simple nod.

“Um... Can I... Can I have some coffee?” you asked timidly, pointing at an old coffee pot. “It looks great. It smells great.”

“You don't like coffee,” the lady said in a hoarse voice, with a soft tone that seemed a bit different from the day before. You frowned, sitting in front of her.

“Oh, well, no, not especially but... You know, college changed my mind,” you explained amused, pouring some liquid into a cup, not having noticed that information she provided, something she shouldn't, she couldn't know.

Donna sighed, playing with her spoon, not wanting to look at you, but at the same time, not being able to not do it.

“Mother Miranda says you’ve come to study plants,” she commented, after a tense moment of silence. You nodded, setting your cup down on the table.

“It’s for my PhD. My parents told me this place could be very interesting,” you explained in a calm voice, still keeping an eye on the doll on the couch.

“Your parents,” she said, completely ignoring your motivations.

“Yes…” you affirmed with a fake smile. “It, it seems that they knew Miranda for a long time. She worked with them in some kind of scientific corporation.”

“But you weren't born here,” she said, with a dark, intriguing voice, as if she knew the answer to her own questions. That made you remember things that you didn't like to talk about.

“No, I… I was born, I was born in… Well, I don't know exactly where I was born. I'm… I'm adopted,” you said, annoyed by that indiscretion. The lady in black nodded with disinterest.

“What happened to your biological parents?” the woman in black asked, sinking a dagger into your fragile feelings, starting to annoy you.

“I, I didn't know them, I…” you murmured with your hand shaking, with the sadness of your past starting to stir your heart. “I don't feel comfortable talking about this with a stranger.”

“Stranger…” she murmured, crossing her arms, as if she were mocking you. You couldn't know, the veil on her face hid her expressions. “You're in my house, you have to show some respect for me.”

“Respect?” you asked, arching your eyebrows. “You're the one who asks me personal things. In my country that's disrespectful.”

“Do you know what is disrespectful?” Donna asked, getting up from her chair and getting dangerously close to you. “Your existence.”

You stood there open-mouthed, not knowing how to respond to that offensive comment, closing your eyes, sighing and trying not to lose your nerves.

“Great, I like you too,” you joked, making the lady turn around abruptly, without saying anything, just breathing with difficulty.

The image of the night before, the image of that photograph you accidentally put in your backpack came back to your mind. It wasn't the best time, but, after all, you weren't doing much to stay in that house. You would have to get out of doubt.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized with a grunt. “I was rude.”

“Me too,” she said, apparently calmer, ignoring your comments.

“Okay…” you sighed in relief, slowly taking the photo frame out of your backpack, looking at it once more. “Hey, who is this girl?”

The lady froze when she saw you with the photo, snatching it from you with a strong tug of her hands.

“What are you doing with that?! This is mine!” she screamed furiously, kicking the floor and tightly clutching the photo to her chest. “It's mine!”

“I, I know, I took it by accident because…” you said nervously, trying to explain why you kept it, what you wanted to know.

“Don't touch my stuff!” Donna protested, upset, with a voice broken by rage and sudden sobs. “Don't touch her!”

“I'm, I'm sorry, but it's just that...” you said, approaching her trembling figure.

“Stupida! What have you come for?! To torture me?! Is it because I couldn't save you?!” she screamed deliriously, unhinged, totally out of her mind. You could run away, take advantage of her madness to escape but... You didn't.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, approaching slowly, trying to calm her down. “Donna, I...”

“Perché?! To lose you wasn't it enough? Haven't I suffered enough?” she stammered, sitting on the floor with her knees on her chest, burying her covered face between them. You, bent down, trying to grab her wrists.

“Please, calm down, please, I, I didn't mean to…” you said nervously, feeling sorry for that sick woman, unintentionally intoxicating yourself with that familiar lavender scent.

“Donna, Donna! Don't do that!” a third voice, which you didn't hear, approached you. “Don't pay attention to this fool. Donna, Donna, sing, sing with me…”

A soft song came out of that black veil, one that seemed to calm her under your watchful gaze. You were so nervous that you didn't notice there was someone else there.

“Fool, damn foolish outsider, you made my Donna cry!”

The voice spoke again, while the lady ran out, crying inconsolably.

“I didn't mean to make her suffer,” you said, standing up, brushing the dust off your pants. “I don't…”

You opened your eyes when you realized there was something strange, someone, something that shouldn't be there. You slowly turned your head, staring in astonishment at that doll, a doll that was no longer lying inert on the couch, but standing next to you.

“No…” you sighed, slowly moving away, your body paralyzed by fear. “Oh, no…”

“What are you looking at, you fool? Have you seen a ghost?” the doll said again, confirming that you hadn't imagined it. It was alive.

“How, how can you…? Oh, no, no, you can't be alive,” you stammered, suppressing the impulse to take out your phone and record that phenomenon.

“You're the one who can't be alive! Stupid outsider!” the doll shrieked, in an unpleasant, shrill tone, walking away from your petrified body. “If you mess with my Donna again, you'll pay dearly! Keep that in mind, Angie is always watching!”

“Angie?” you repeated, blinking in confusion. You had dreamed of that name.

Maybe some fresh air would do you good, and besides, you had to start your investigations.

During the day you walked around the village, looking for those places you saw in your dreams, leaving the plants aside, having a new objective: to know why that place was so familiar to you, what was happening in that cursed village.

The night came too soon and, without wanting it, you were already back in that mansion, next to that living doll and its disturbed owner. The atmosphere was still tense, but something had changed. In front of you, a plate of food that she had prepared for you was waiting.

“It's not poisoned, eat,” Donna whispered, with a voice broken by the crying of hours before, but with a slightly different serenity. You, distrustful but hungry, obeyed.

“Mmm, it has a lot of oregano,” you commented with a false smile. “I always liked tomatoes with a lot of oregano, how did you know?”

The lady shrugged, as if she didn't feel like talking.

It was true that she looked dangerous, that her problems could cause you to have them, but, above all, you had something in mind, you wanted to know why the girl in the photo looked so much like you, why, for so many years, you had dreamed of that place, that house.

“Well…”you stammered, breaking the silence again. “I, I'd like to know something else about… Angie,” you said, afraid of her reaction, looking at the doll, which seemed to be entertaining itself with some balls of wool.

“Angie,” Donna repeated.

“Yes, I… Well, I've never seen a living doll,” you said amused, hiding your fear.

“I suppose you haven’t,” she said, coldly. “If you don't annoy her, she won't do anything to you.”

“Oh, okay…” you said, disappointed with the answer, continuing with that silent dinner, at least until your desire to know, to understand, came back to your head. “So… What do you do here?”

“I make dolls,” the lady answered with a disinterested whisper, leaving you speechless again.

“Wooow, there are a lot of dolls…”

“My father makes them, one day I will be like him”

“Will you make one for me?”

“As many as you want…”

Inopportune whispers echoed in your head, making you drink water, so those feelings would not worsen the tension of that dinner, the first of many others.

“Wow, that's... interesting,” you murmured, feigning interest. Donna didn't answer. She just stared at you through her veil. “I don't know many people who make porcelain dolls.”

That caught the lady's attention, tensing her body and breathing nervously again.

“I didn't say they were porcelain dolls,” she said in a cold, distrustful tone.

“Oh...” you said, regretting your boldness. Porcelain dolls, another entry in your notebook, a recurring vision in your dreams.

Everything was related, there was no doubt. The only thing you didn't understand was what Lady Beneviento had to do with it.

“You knew they are porcelain dolls,” she said again, taking you out of your thoughts, out of the memories of your dreams, memories full of dolls, of laughter, of faceless women.

“No, well, not really,” you said apologetically, pretending that your success had really been a coincidence. “I just said it randomly.”

“That's not true,” Donna whispered, getting up from the chair, approaching you with the same dangerous, slow and threatening step. “You knew it, how?”

“I, I don't know,”-you stammered, blushing at your lie.

“No matter how much you deny it, I know it's you,” she whispered, bringing a hand to your cheek, one that made you stir, but not move away.

“I, I don't know what you're talking about,” you said nervously, turning your face away so those soft caresses would stop.

There was no more conversation. There was nothing else to clarify your confused thoughts.

The days passed slowly, your dreams became more and more unbearable, more intense, the voices that sounded in your subconscious revealed things you didn't know, words that you didn't understand. That figure, that blurred face of that woman refused to be revealed.

You had so many new notes in your notebook that there were no blank spaces left. But all that information didn't make sense. It was confusing, confusing names, distorted voices, imaginary scenarios inside or outside that mansion.

Your doctorate was the main loser. It was as if everything you had gone to do in that village blurred with time. That was the place of your dreams, of your visions, of all the sensations that remained latent in your feelings.

Donna didn't seem to want to overwhelm you with strange phrases, with stupid accusations like the first few days. Her attitude relaxed, she seemed more comfortable with you, although always absent, shy, distant and at the same time eager to get closer.

She was the only thing you didn't understand, but somehow, that voice, the softness that her hands seemed to have, that lavender scent... All of that started to confuse your feelings, to make you start to feel attracted to her, hopelessly.

“Hi, I’m back...” you sighed, carrying two shopping bags.

Of course, living in that huge mansion could be an order from Miranda, but that didn't mean you could live without giving anything in return. Shopping was a task that the lady in black assigned to you, thus freeing herself from having to face her anxieties, the discomfort she felt with people around.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, getting up from the sofa, stoic as always, nervous as never. Yes, her nerves seemed to get worse in your presence, but the softness of her character didn't show it. It was a contradiction.

Donna Beneviento was herself a contradiction, a very... attractive contradiction.

“I think I have everything…” you sighed, leaving the bags on a table. “But I'm afraid that fat guy doesn't make bills.”

She laughed shyly, approaching you and looking at the contents, puzzled by a bottle of wine.

“What is this?” she asked, taking the wine out of the bag, showing it to you. You shrugged.

“Oh, it's Mastrala wine,” you said passively.

Donna laughed again, shaking her head.

“I know what it is but… Why did you buy it?” she asked in a lower tone, getting a little closer to you, giving the bottle back to you.

“Oh, I hope you don't mind. The Duke had that bottle there, and… I don't know, I don't really like wine but I thought I could do something with it,” you said, placing that bottle on the table, one bottled that, since you saw it, caught your attention.

“Something?” the lady in black asked, her voice shaking and her hands playing erratically with each other.

“Yes, well, I was thinking of making something sweet, maybe…”

“Zabaione,” you said, but so did she. You two spoke at the same time, you said the same thing. It was a strange, tense moment, one that made you blink several times.

“Y-yes… Right, right…” you sighed confused, your head claiming your attention again. “Um… Well, I, I guess you like them…”

“Of course she likes them!” Angie interrupted, comically pushing Donna closer to you. “She makes them well, very well, don’t you Donna?”

“I, I guess so,” the lady in black murmured, kicking the doll, who laughed amusedly. You still hadn't gotten used to the puppet, but deep down, you liked it.

“Great, I'll make them right away,” you said, wanting to leave the room before the shadows of the unknown lurked again.

“Why don't you make them together? It could be funny,” the doll suggested, with a strange laugh

“Angie, no…” Donna said head down, with an embarrassed tone for the doll's increasingly less subtle impudence. It was as if Angie knew that something had started to grow between you two.

“Eh, it's true, why not?” you said, rubbing your hands. “But I warn you that I'm quite an expert. Since I was little I made them perfect.”

“Yes, that... That would be... Good,” the lady stammered, guiding you towards the kitchen.

As you entered that dark room, more memories, sensations that you lived in your dreams began to haunt you.

“Stop adding sugar or it will be too sweet”

“Just a little more…”

“(Y/N),” the hoarse voice of the lady in black blurred the voices in your head. “The sugar is in…”

You looked down, automatically opening the door of a cupboard, taking out the sugar packet, without really knowing how. How could you know it was there?

“Here,” you said in a small voice, a bit confused, more than usual. “Um… I'm going, I'm going to get the yolks.”

Cooking with the lady in black seemed like a good candidate to be your favorite hobby. Donna laughed while you talked about anything, about college experiences, about your travels… Everything seemed like a gift to her, like a sweet melody that calmed her spirit. Her soft laugh, her shy words and that sweet accent, also calmed yours.

“Perfect, I told you so,” you said, admiring the result with satisfaction. “I can't wait to try them.”

“You were always so impatient,” ​​Donna whispered, wiping her hands with a rag, leaving you again with a loose wire, speaking to you in the past tense, as if she already knew you, as if she did one day.

“It's one of my flaws, yes,” you murmured in a less euphoric tone, helping her to clean up the kitchen. “What do we do with the egg whites?”

“The egg whites? Oh, well, maybe I could make a…”

“Meringue, I love meringue,” you interrupted, with an innocent smile. She nodded, sighing sadly. “My mother used to make it, but I constantly annoyed her, always…”

“You always stuck your finger on it,” Donna finished your sentence again. Once again, you couldn't deny the evidence. She knew too much.

“Y-Yes…” you affirmed, nodding slowly, with a cold sweat running down your forehead.

“You could never stay still, Olga,” she said, making you frown, blinking several times, thinking you had heard wrong.

“Olga?” you asked confused. You didn't remember that name in your notebook, or in your dreams. More problems, more unanswered questions.

Donna looked at you, but then pulled away, shaking her head.

“I'm sorry, I’ve made a mistake,” she said in a very low tone, one that was regretful and broken. “Take the sweets upstairs, I'll make some tea.”

“Okay, but…” you said, seeing how the lady seemed to tremble again, how one of her crises was about to ruin a wonderful afternoon. “Should I help you?”

“No,” she growled, clenching her fists tightly. “Go away.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, putting a hand on her back, one that she rejected, moving violently.

“Vai via!” she shrieked, making you, resigned, obey, taking the tray with the sweets and leaving the lady alone, beginning to sob.

You waited a while for her to go up again, with the annoying Angie dancing around you.

“Hey, Angie, who's Olga?” you asked, picking up the puppet from the floor, causing it to kick violently.

“Let me go, you rude girl!” she shrieked. “Have you never looked yourself in a mirror?”

You obeyed with a frown, knowing that you would never get an answer from that irreverent puppet. Luckily, Donna soon appeared.

The taste of those sweets along with the tea transported you to an unknown place, recognizing the mixture of the darkness of the house, the humidity, the steaming tea, those delicious sweets...

“Even though you're my friend, I... I, I want, I want to tell you that...”

“Come on, talk”

“I know it won't come true if I say it, but, but... My birthday wish has been... To give you, to give you a kiss...”

That image appeared in your head, the image of that strange dream, of that blurry woman who slowly approached you, placing her blurry lips on yours. You even brought your hand to your mouth, believing you had felt that kiss, you had noticed the softness of those unknown lips.

“(Y/N),” Donna, who had remained silent until that moment, spoke to you. The sensation of that kiss disappeared with her words. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you in the kitchen.”

“No, well, it's okay,” you said, trying one of those sweets, much less pleasant than that imaginary kiss. “We all make mistakes.”

“I haven't made a mistake,” she said in a more serious tone, with her cup of tea shaking in her hands. “Do you remember the photo you stole from me?”

“Oh, I didn't steal anything from you, I took it by accident and…” you said, getting scared by that cold attitude, one that she hadn't had with you for a long time.

“Taci, I'm talking,” she protested, nervous.

You nodded, eating slowly, bringing your cup to your lips so as not to say more nonsense.

“The, the girl was… She was…” she said, her voice breaking. “Olga, she was my best friend, the only one, in fact…” she explained, causing your heart to beat faster for no reason. “Let me ask you a question, (Y/N).”

“Mm,” you murmured, interested in that conversation, afraid to say why that girl, Olga, seemed so curious to you.

“I know you don't like to talk about it but… What is your first memory?” she asked in a mysterious, studious voice. You gulped down the tea, embarrassed by the answer.

“You're not the first one to ask me, the, the kids at school laughed at me when I answered,” you said amused, but nervous.

“I'm not going to laugh,” Donna said, with a serious tone, with one that said under that black veil, there was no smile. “Answer, per favore.”

“T, the truth is… It's not exactly a memory... It was more like a dream,” you said, lowering the tone of your voice, immersing yourself in your thoughts, in the dream that was the first, the first of hundreds of them.

She nodded for you to continue.

“Well, I dreamed that I was surrounded… I don't know, by some kind of black branches… I know it was cold, I remember the cold and…  I, I don't know, suddenly my parents appeared and… I, I woke up… Or so I think.”

“Mm,” she murmured, calmly placing her cup of tea down. “Do you usually have those kinds of dreams?”

“Not exactly,” you said, with a serious tone, frowning, ready to reveal for the first time, your concerns, feeling strangely safe next to Donna, comfortable, even… Happy. “This, this will seem crazy to you but… I… I have been here before. I mean, before I arrived… I couldn’t explain why but I… I already knew this place, this house…”

“Did you know me?” she asked suddenly, not surprised by what you were saying, something that confused you even more.

“No, I'm sorry... I've never, ever dreamed about you,” you said, sure of your words.

“I've been dreaming about you for over 30 years,” she whispered in a sad tone. “Since I lost you.”

“30 years?” you asked confused, with a burning sensation in your chest, with all those unknown voices wandering through your mind, overwhelming you, making you tremble. “But, but that's impossible, I... I'm 25 and...”

The lady in black didn't answer, she simply moved her hand to the veil that covered her face, moving it away, letting it fall on the table. She was a beautiful woman, really beautiful, the woman in the portrait, the girl in the photograph. Dark hair, pale skin, one eye, the other hidden by a horrible scar.

You, absorbed by her beauty, by discovering the appearance of that woman for whom you were beginning to have feelings, stood still, studying her features.

“You are… You are beautiful,” you stammered, with a different feeling in your chest, with a deep, sonorous beat, a different one, not nervous, but excited. The voices fell silent, the thoughts of your dreams stopped appearing. In your mind, there was only Donna.

The lady in black, letting a tear slide down her cheek, shook her head.

“You still don't remember me,” she said, lowering her gaze, desperate not to make you understand what she wanted to say, that missing piece in the puzzle of your mind.

“No, I'm, I'm sorry… I don't know why I would have to remember you… I, I don't know what I'm doing here, I…” you said, overwhelmed by the situation, nervous, with an imminent anxiety attack. “Hey, Donna, I, I had a good time with you but, but, I think, I think it's better that I go before I lose my mind.”

“Don't go,” Donna whispered, getting up from the chair at the same time as you. “Don't go, please.”

“I, I don't know what's going on, why, why do I feel like I should be here and at the same time I shouldn't. I don't know why... I, I can't stand it anymore,” you said, shaking your head, with a crazy look, walking towards the entrance. A strong grip on your wrist prevented you from doing so.

“Even at the risk of losing you once again, I can't let you go without first... Without first fulfilling my wish again,” she sobbed, approaching you. You shook your head, crying too, too nervous.

“Your birthday wish,” you said without thinking, remembering that recurring dream, that kiss that a few moments ago you thought you felt on your lips. You went pale, with your eyes wide open, paralyzed.

The lady in black nodded, running her hand over your cheek, getting closer, closing her one eye before closing the distance between you, before kissing you slowly, with soft lips.

A shock went through your body. A tremor nullified the mobility of your muscles while your brain ran through all the images of your life, all your dreams, your dèjá vu. There were no longer blurred figures, incomplete sentences. The truth was revealed in your mind.

“Blow out the candles, Donna”

“Olga, do you think I'm beautiful?”

“I like you, Donna”

“I want us to be friends forever…”

“I have something to tell you”

“I liked kissing you, tell me you'll come back tomorrow”

“I'll come back tomorrow…”

The woman without a face, that blurred figure, was no longer one. Black hair, a scar, a melodic accent, a soft voice, a dazzling smile, the smell of lavender…

Donna, it was her, she was the mysterious woman, that woman of your dreams, that little girl who played with you, that young woman who kissed you that rainy afternoon, that afternoon after which, you couldn't remember, or dream anything.

Endless experiences, memories, clouded your thoughts while her lips kissed you, while that feeling of having done that before invaded you, telling you that it was true, that you were madly in love with her, with your best friend, that you kissed her, that she kissed you, that that afternoon you came home and everything went black.

Family, friends, a strange cult, the figure of Mother Miranda... Your whole life passed through your thoughts. But it wasn't yours, it couldn't be yours.

“Oh, Christine, look at that...”

“My God, it's a baby...”

“Where did it come from? Poor girl...”

“Look at that, it's the mold...”

“God, what does this mean?”

“I, I don't know, but, we can't leave her here...”

The voices of your adoptive parents were the last thing you heard before opening your eyes, before pulling away from that warm kiss. As if drugged, as if you were very far from that place, you brought your hands to the brunette's face, looking at it again and again, with the salty taste of your tears still on your lips. Donna, it was Donna, it was that girl you loved, the one you loved once, in another life.

“Donna… It's you…” you sighed, confused but sure of what you saw, of what you felt. That attraction for the lady in black disappeared under a sea of ​​love, of feelings that had remained locked away for too long. “My God, Donna, I, I remember you.”

“Do you remember me?” she asked confused, letting herself be caressed by your trembling hands, getting closer, studying your lost gaze.

“I, I don't know why but… I… I…” you said nervously, smiling involuntarily, drawing her towards you to kiss her again. “I, I, I loved you, I loved you even without knowing you, I knew I loved you…”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I could never tell you… You, you left before I could tell you how, how in love I was with you.”

“I… I died, right?” you asked, unable to stop caressing her, unable to stop smelling that lavender scent, her scent, the scent of the unknown love of your life.

“Yes, you… You, you fell off a cliff… And… I… I was left so alone…” she said, kissing you desperately.

Everything fit, even your irrational hatred of heights.

“I, I don't know how to understand this… I, I’m (Y/N). I’m, I'm not Olga…” you said nervously again, grabbing her sweaty hands, losing yourself in the softness of her skin. “I will never, never be.”

“So…” she whispered, moving away from your touch, sobbing heartbreakingly. “Even knowing, knowing who you really are… You, you will leave.”

“I don't know who I am, or who I was… I just, I just know that… That I love you. It’s the only thing I'm sure of right now.”

“Who loves me?” Donna asked abruptly, with her lips pressed together, with a fury shining in her eye.

“I love you,” you whispered, lowering your head, not wanting to think that you had been reincarnated, that you were never (Y/N), that you were a projection of a girl who died, who ceased to exist, and then came back.

“Who are you, (Y/N)?” she asked again, coming closer timidly, taking your hands, playing with them, hoping to hear an answer that wasn't a rejection.

“I, I guess if… If I want to know… I'll have to, I'll have to stay with you,” you whispered softly, pulling on her waist, kissing her again, wanting to feel those soft lips on yours again, and forever.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, pulling away, crying just like you, confused, just like you, but in love... Just like you. “You, you don't know me. (Y/N) doesn't know me.”

“Of course I know you,” you said smiling. “You've been living in my dreams for a long time.”

[irkimatsu]

Can you do a husk x fem reader where she’s also a cat demon (no wings, just cat) yet she’s the epitome of “golden retriever” As if her personality was golden, she’s extroverted and caring and so so bubbly (even more so than Charlie). But then one night, crying is heard from her room and husk hears it and she’s insecure of her body because of how skinny she is?? She has curves yes but that doesn’t make her feel better at all and she’s always comparing herself to others and how she could be better!! It’s just overall angst with fluff please :( 🙏

(Live laugh love you sm !!)

Okay, so, first off, a confession - I am, uh. Not skinny. I am far from skinny, and not only that, I'm in the business of taking skinny characters and chunking them up. Have you seen some of my posts about Overlord Husk?

All that to say that I'm not used to writing skinny characters, and "skinny character insecure about their body" is an absolutely foreign concept to me. I tried my best, though, and I hope I hit the notes with this that you needed!

About 1.5 words. Primarily SFW but Husk gets a little handsy toward the end. One-sided Husk/Angel from Angel's side, but Angel's graceful about it, there's no ship bashing here, I still love Angel and he's still one of Husk's best friends.

---

“Husky!”

Husk has barely made it into the hotel lobby, and you’re already clinging to him, your tail wagging furiously.

The tail wagging is strange for your species; you’d reincarnated in hell as a gray tabby cat, a creature known for being moody, standoffish, even a little prissy. But that wasn’t who you were in life, and it’s not how you are in death, either. Husk realized it immediately upon meeting you, and at first he wasn’t a fan of your wild energy, but you managed to grow on the old man’s heart soon enough. He appreciated how young you could make him feel, and how much you reminded him that the best years of his life weren’t as far gone as he thought.

“Hey, hey!” he says, laughing, a far cry from the Husk who would have snapped at you to get off of him a few months ago. “I missed you too, babe!” He gently hugs you back, giving you a couple pats on the back before stepping away. At first you would have been hurt by the lack of enthusiasm, but now you realize that he’s simply not comfortable with too much PDA. He’s perfectly affectionate behind closed doors, and that’s what really matters.

“Damn, I need to find someone who pounces me like that when I get home!” Angel says with a laugh. Shopping bags dangle from all four of his arms, and he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses you don’t think you’ve seen on him before.

“Did you guys enjoy your boys’ day out?” you ask.

“Sure did!” Husk says as he holds up his own, much smaller shopping bag. “Had as much fun as you can when you’re clothes shopping with Angel for three hours, anyway.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me showing off outfits for ya,” Angel teases as he sways his hips. “I know you were staring at my ass in every pair of shorts I tried on.”

“What ass?” Husk shoots back with a smile. “Don’t lie to me, you’re flat as the fuckin’ bartop.”

“Hm? I’m sorry, and whose flat ass has been on the cover of every adult magazine in hell, again?” Angel says, swaying his hips further.

“Hey, if the people want flat twinks, then good for them.” Husk returns his attention to you, and sticks his hand in the paper shopping bag. “That shop was real nice, though. I found a couple things for myself, and got you a little somethin’, too.” He digs around for a bit, before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to you. “Here. For my golden girl.”

You open the box and gasp at the sight of a golden choker encrusted with diamonds. “Husk! How much was this?!”

“Enough to be worth it,” is all the information he’ll give. “Mind if I put it on you?”

“Go ahead!”

He takes the box back and walks behind you. His claws graze your skin as he fastens the choker around your neck, and your skin prickles.

While he’s behind you, you’re still facing Angel. You bear no ill-will toward the porn star; you admire his confidence, and you know he’s been a good friend to Husk since long before you got here. For as much as they tease each other, Husk does genuinely seem to care about Angel and enjoy his outings with him; he wouldn’t have gone on that shopping trip if he didn’t enjoy the company at least a little, you’re sure. He hasn’t been subtle about his crush on Husk, but he’s also conceded his loss to you with grace, which only makes you appreciate him further. It’s not like Angel can’t provide any competition. Who would turn down the opportunity to date a famous porn star? You’re not even into his works, but even you admit that he’s gorgeous, with his slender build and strong legs.

You’re not built like him at all. He’s skinny in a way he works hard for, making sure every part of his body is proportioned just right for his admirers. He’s not just skinny, he’s healthy, and he glows from it.

Meanwhile, Husk is gently rubbing your bony shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder how he feels about the hard lumps beneath his palms.

“Turn around so I can see it?” he asks. You comply, and he responds with wide eyes and a whistle. “Beautiful.”

You’re not sure if you’re in the right headspace to accept the compliment. “Thanks,” you say anyway.

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Husk and Angel about their outing, and trying not to look at Angel too much.

—

Why are you crying about this? This is so stupid. Husk chose you, didn’t he? He met Angel first; if that was what he really wanted, they would have gotten together before you even showed up, wouldn’t they?

So why are you hiding under your blanket, sobbing and clutching your shoulders and wishing you looked like him?

A gentle rapping noise interrupts your self-pity. “Babe? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” you call back, despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That didn’t sound fine.” Damn him and his ability to read people. That’s what you get for dating someone who doesn’t like backing down from someone who’s clearly in denial about their own feelings. How dare he care about you like this?

(You’re glad he cares about you. You just wish he’d let you have that denial.)

“I’ll be right there,” you say, knowing he won’t leave now that he’s heard you crying. You untangle yourself from the blanket cocoon you’ve been hiding in, and you go to open the door for him.

“You look like shit,” Husk says as he closes the door behind him. Not the most romantic greeting, but he’s not wrong; your fur is stained with tears, and your makeup is running. Not a good look. “Come here.” He takes your hand, leads you to the bed, and sits you both on the edge of it. “Talk to me.”

You take a few deep breaths to make sure you won’t start sobbing mid-sentence. “Husk? Am I too skinny?”

Husk stares at you, dumbfounded. “Babe. Everyone in this hotel is built like a fucking twig.”

“Yeah, on purpose!” you say. “They don’t have bones sticking out, or sunken faces… they don’t look fucking starved.”

Husk still seems dumbfounded. “Have you looked at me recently?”

You don’t mind giving him a look. His soft fur, unintentionally tousled in such a perfect way, with tufts on his shoulders and chest that are so wonderful to tug. His yellow eyes that currently burn with sarcasm, but that can gaze at you so softly when the mood is right. His generous heart; it’s not something you can see, but you always feel it when you look at him. Whether it’s the choker you still feel around your neck or the time he always gives you no matter the hour of the day, you know he could never feel like he’s given you enough.

“You don’t think I look awful, do you?” Husk says. “You could tell me if you did. I ain’t under any delusion that I’m winning any beauty contests.”

“You look great, Husk!” you insist. ��I’ve thought you were handsome ever since I got here.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I look like a withered corpse because I’m regularly too drunk to remember to eat?”

“No!” you say, horrified. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says with a shrug. “I take shitty care of myself, I ain’t denying it. At least you’re tryin’. That’s just what your body looks like. That ain’t your problem.”

“But still…” You pull your legs up to the bed and hug them. “I wish I looked like Angel sometimes… he really likes you, you know.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah. I kinda guessed.”

“You could have been with him before I even got here. Why would you choose me over a gorgeous celebrity like him?”

“You’ve got a certain charm that he doesn’t have. I still like the guy a lot, but we’re just friends. He’s not as kind hearted as you, and he doesn’t appreciate quiet nights in like you do. He needs someone who can keep up with him… and I need someone who can slow down with me. Someone like you.”

At least he loves your personality…

“Plus…” Husk wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said he had a flat ass.”

“Husk!” you squeal, his touch tickling your skin.

“Can I be a gross old man for a second?” he says with a smirk. “Because I love curves. Hips and ass are the best. Gives me something to squeeze.” Both of his arms are around you now, and he’s holding you close. “Sure, he’s perfect by some standards, but he ain’t my type. You, on the other hand…” He kisses your forehead and gently strokes your hair. “Don’t change based on what you think I want, okay, doll? I love you just like this.

Comparin’ yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. Just trust that I’m with you because I wanna be.”

[cooco-ren]

Hi, can I ask your top 5 fav nagireo fics? Thx

If you had asked a month ago I would have definitely said no, cuz as much as I love ngro they don't have a lot of fics that really stick out to me. Now however we're definitely getting a lot of better E rated stuff so let me start off with...

ANATOMY OF A FIRST MEETING by seabirdie: absolutely killed me, no smut just the powerful angst that makes me avoid reincarnation as but I was so hungry I gobbled it up anyway, 10/10 if you're in the mood to cry.

help me help you by ncrwaxed: nagireo? Communicate? Pssht! As if...until they do??? That's my rough summary of this from memory, I will not be going beck to cross check.

get over it (get under me) by kokirane: I actually did reread one and damn, there are a lot of ngro fics covering their time fighting bug this is one of the less angsty chill ones I vibe with, Nagi's so silly an it's so cute when Reo doesn't want to give him room.

These next two are really old, I found them in my bookmarks and I don't remember most of what they were about but y'all I faved them so JUST TRUST ME BRO!!!

Nagi's laws of physics by strayblossoms

know my love's infinite by kokirane: (domestic kinda but there's smut)

And a lovely bonus!!!

Tomorrow, Together by nagireo (happyclover)

Thanks for the ask anon, hope I managed to hell give you you some nice recs

One thing I just love and can always appreciate about Ngro fics is the fact that tho they're a bit lacking in range and variety the writers are always doing a good job of nailing their personalities, and many are always so well written too!!!

Much love to all the beautiful ngro writers out there <333

[bisexualnerd]

Writer tag game

I wasn’t tagged, but I saw the game randomly posted by another user so I want to play anyway! (red for fic links and blue for series links)

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

35 (and only one draft because I don't really like working on multiple projects at the same time)

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

395,306

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I write the most for Batfam, mostly Tim and Jason but usually, the whole fam (more or less) is also there.

I write a bit more for some other fandoms but there are only one or two fics for each (2021 Produce 101 - Chuang Zao Ying, Hollywood Undead (but these fics are not finished), Julie and The Phantoms (1 fic - finished), Arsenal Military Academy + The Legends (they are kinda connected in 1 fic) and I have like, one translation project too.

I'm hoping to write Star Wars fics one day too. Really like the whole time travel thing and Obi-Wan is my beloved.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Monster Under My Bed (The Monster Down The Hall)

"Back Away From Him."

if i lose everything in the fire, i'm sending all my love to you

Cold

A Pile of Sleeping Birds

5. do you respond to comments?

All of the comments, definitely. I really enjoy reading and replying to them and sometimes, I even come back to re-read the comments to feel validated 🤣

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I write angst a lot but I have a thing for happy endings. But if I look at the fics individually and not like, as a part of a bigger series, it might be i have so much to say but you're so far away. But if not just the ending but the whole plot in general, it can be any fic really (I would recommend Restless Heart Syndrome, And Now You're Home, The Monster Under My Bed (The Monster Down The Hall), and What The Heart Remembers).

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They all have some sort of happy endings (though some fics that are a part of a series might not but the series will have happy endings). But since all I have talked about is Batfam, I would recommend this from Julie and the Phantoms. I don't write romance often, but this is just a short soft, cute love story of two ghosts (Reggie and an OC based on his real-life wife) plus some humour in the band - ‘Cause I’m Not Too Far And You’re My Favorite Place. I was very satisfied with how it turned out and I still come back to re-read for my own enjoyment a few times so I hope you guys will give it a chance.

8. do you get hate on fics?

My most controversial fic would be Hold Me Close, Don't Let Go (Watch Me Burn) but it's not like people showed hate to me. They just didn't like the story and how I wrote it so there were some unpleasant comments. The newest one, I think I did well with my response. It's a rather heavy fic because I went through a really rough time when I was writing it (along with many others) so if you want to read it, be careful.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't. My fics are all rated G or T (mostly because of swearing and violence, and also some with suicidal theme or idealisation because I did have a really bad time).

10. do you write crossovers?

Just for two fandoms, Arsenal Military Academy & The Legends, because they share the same lead actor and actress so I thought it would be fun to write something about reincarnation. It's Then and Now, Forever and Always.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think I'm famous enough for that.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, into Chinese, actually. It's The Monster Under My Bed (The Monster Down The Hall). The link to the translated fic is in the fic.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not really. I planned my current series How To Steal A Brother with my friend Den and she is also my beta-reader for this series but I still write all of the stuff, which she reads and corrects the mistakes for me later.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

That's hard to choose. I really like Robin (Dick Grayson) and Starfire. It was like my first ship ever because I watched Teen Titans as a child. I also like Marinette/Adrien, very cute but the secondhand embarrassment is not very healthy for me (at least she has gotten better at interacting with him). The Doctor (10th) and Rose was one heartbreak that got me crying like a baby in 8th grade.

So honestly, I don't think I can pick because those were the three that came to my mind first, but I still have like a few dozen left.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

The Hollywood Undead fic - When Gravity Pulls You In. It was a really fun idea but then I ran into a big writer's block and I haven't recovered for this fic. I have been writing for Batfam again but I doubt I can go back and finish this one (at least anytime soon).

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't think I'm too good with dialogue but I do have a strength in describing and like some sort of metaphor (English is not my first language so this is a difficult question to answer). I don't know if this is also considered a strength but like I said, I don't really write many fics at the same time so I can manage them pretty well. Most of my fics are completed before I move on to another one.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. And I forget a lot of stuff so I have to go back to the earlier part so the plot won't be inconsistent. And of course, I write in English, which is not my mother tongue, so sometimes, I lack vocabulary or my grammar can feel weird.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I mean, I would add translation or explanation very subtly in there. But I saw a Star Wars fic where the writer had like, floating texts or something for the conversations in Mando'a so like, I will research on that if I need to write in another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Batfam. Tim-centric.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Damn, that's like asking a parent for their fav child on national television.

In terms of like, wording and metaphors and descriptions and all the technical stuff - And Now You're Home - because some of my fav paragraphs are in here. In terms of logic, time can never change for the flying bird under the summer sun because I went crazy with all the planning for the whole time-travel-but-nothing-changes-the-future thing. In terms of plot, i'm so out of touch with everyone, and everything's a blur to me. This was one of my earlier ones but when I came back to this earlier this year, I found it so enjoyable and fascinated. I couldn't even believe I wrote this one. But it is a part of a series so you might want to check out I've Got You Brother.

This has been fun and I have been shamelessly PR-ing my fics. I don't really know who to tag so anyone else who wants to play, go ahead and have fun!

[blackholesun321]

New One Piece AU dropped focusing around Zoro and Mihawk! You shall be subjected to it.

TW: Long Ask

Okay, so basically, this au has a long title but I dubbed it Child of the Sword. It started off with Zoro being able to see the spirits of the swords since in One Piece, swords are sentient and are possessed in a way. Only Zoro can see these spirits and talks to them all the time. At first, he didn't realize others couldn't see them. My friend and I played around with this a lot, and now's it's developed into a whole thing.

When Kuina died, Zoro's anger and grief erupted and Zoro discovered he was the incarnation of the Ancient Weapon: Ares. Created by the war god Asura. The sensei makes Zoro swear to never use his power in public unless it was life or death. Zoro goes on to see Kuina's spirit tied to Wado Ichimonji. During the shells town arc, Morgan is extra cruel bc he is Morgan, and when Zoro is tied in the courtyard he has the swordsman whipped on the back, marring and littering Zoro's back with scars. Zoro's honor is in shambles when Luffy shows up and helps him. During Baratie, Zoro fights Mihawk and loses, ending up with the scar on his chest. After Zoro promises to never fail, he whipsers "Finally a worthy scar" and Mihawk overhears. Mihawk almost noted how Zoro always seemed to be looking at things that aren't there.

So naturally, the warlord decides to kidnap Zoro instead of Luffy (yes I am mashing up OPLA and the anime, fight me). The Straw hats go on the free Nami from Arlong then make plans to get Zoro back from Mihawk. Zoro is less than pleased to be kidnapped by the strongest swordsman. Mihawk brings Zoro with him to meet with Shanks about Luffy's bounty poster and Shanks convinces Mihawk to give Zoro back to the Straw Hats, but before that happens, Mihawk and Zoro end up talking about Zoro's special abilities. Mihawk comes to the realization of what Zoro is and keeps it to himself.

During the two year time skip, Zoro reunites with Mihawk (even though he never stopped talking with the warlord after being dropped off ((begrudgingly)) at lougetown). Mihawk trains Zoro in the way of the sword AND helps him to realize his full potential.

This is all I have for now, but I have ideas for Dressrosa and Wano. :D

FUCK YEAH ASKS AGAIN! I’ve been ignoring the rest of my wings au ask gotta go finish those up lol just kinda sitting in my drafts. Anyways.

Oh fuck yeah again! I love the guy can see spirits no one else can mixed with reincarnation trope my little Bleach nerd heart is swooning.

But yesss constantly talking to air and technically he doesn’t need to but the swords haven’t told him that because it’s funny. And he’s just this ball of angst plus weirdo probably crazy guy who talks to his swords— so he’d be even more ostracized then in canon yeah the mentality Ill are stigmatized and treated poorly in all universes. Expect he not mentally ill I mean if we don’t count the Kuina trauma ™️ probably which is what gives Ironjaw the gaul and to whip him as well as tie him up to suffer dehydration and probably heat stroke so fun.

Maybe Kuina tags along in the form of wado-ichumongi? Maybe he can talk to her sometimes? Idk I just want him to be constantly fighting and loosing to a preteen girl that lives in his sword, I think that would be funny.

Mihawk please! Mihawk that’s kidnapping! Mihawk you’ve kidnapped a child. Because of course he has and did because Zoro=interesting equals if I leave him alone he could die and with the looks of his crew probably will die. Ugh guess I have to steal him.

You know he shows up at that beach eyeliner on, lip gloss applied and cunting it up to shore and with Zoro trying to stab him every other step. Shanks is very worried and weirded out. But also laughs his ass off because of course this is how Mihawk acquires a kid. But also he’s like Mihawk seriously no bad we don’t kidnap… Whitebeards the exception not the rule!

[enihk-writes]

[日久见人心]

characters: present!chung myung + afab!she/her!reader

baek cheon x afab!she/her!reader (implied and one-sided from the reader's end because they are not the main plot point for this fic lol)

summary: old habits die hard, even when you are born in a new body. to his credit, he does try not to seem like he is the reincarnation of the plum blossom sword saint, but his subconscious actions said otherwise. he didn't think you of all people would notice.

word count: 3.85k

author's note: the phrase 日久见人心 (rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn) is part of the full saying 路遥知马力，日久见人心 (lù yáo zhī mǎ lì, rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn) and i vaguely remember it was something my mother tongue teacher back in secondary said we could use in our composition essays or whatever,,,, and recently i saw it on those cringey rise-and-grind motivational crypto bro ig pages my ex-classmates are reposting on their stories which kinda gave me an idea lmao.... anyways the meaning of the quote is that we need to take time to understand a person's character (also the fic is the result of my caffeine overconsumption lol and not related to my previous cmxreader because i needed a break from all that angst romance i've been writing wwwwwwww)

═══════════════

chung myung has been starting to think that you were cut out from the same cloth as yu iseol.

quiet, aloof and always watching.

if someone said that you both were twins, he wouldn't be surprised. but then again, there were differences. the most obvious one was that iseol had more talent with the blade than you did, and the other was that iseol had no talent in actually taking care of herself. you were barely managing, but compared to your senior sister? it was far more decent. the two of you had tang soso to thank for not dying as fast as you could have.

chung myung. bowl.

he looks up to see your hand outstretched, waiting to pick up the empty bowl he'd cleaned off long ago. chung myung grunts and hands it over, propping his arm up and resting his head on it as he watched you go around the dining hall to collect the dinnerware.

you lived in mount hua, sure, but you weren't the fighting sort. maybe because anything you did could get you sick — if the weather dropped or rose a little too quickly, your body would tremble and shiver. did you move a little too much today? did you happen to sleep later than you were supposed to that night? by the next morning you were down with a terrible fever that kept you in your room for the rest of the day. but now that tang soso was here, she would drag you down to the medicine hall, grumbling under her breath, all while you looked at her teary-eyed and apologetic.

maybe it was out of shame or embarrassment that made you try to be yourself useful in other ways, though you would often fail and cause more trouble. everyone would just sigh and pick up after your mess, ushering you out to do something else.

during those days, he'd find you hunched behind the baths, sobbing in frustration. chung myung didn't know what to do or say, he'd always talked more with his fist before his heart, so he'd end up hiding in the trees to watch over you instead. and once you've cried it all out, you would stand, wash your face and go to bed. trying something else tomorrow.

chung myung gives credit where credit was due. for a sickly kid, you sure had a thicker skin than the others.

eventually, you stuck with being the cleaner. your weird, meticulous habits somehow working well in this job. the cups and plates were wiped till it shone, silverware were polished until you could see your own face and that hard-to-scrub dirt on the grout would be pristine and white when left in your hands. chung myung wonders secretly if maybe you'd picked this talent up from that neat freak baek cheon.

what are you thinking about?

he almost hits you out of instinct. you really were cut from the same cloth as yu iseol.

he lets out a shaky breath as he turns to face you, who had been sitting behind him. you look at him owlishly and he would have thought you weren't breathing if not for the movement of your nostrils. crossing his leg over the other, he juts his chin at you in acknowledgement.

what is it?

you're quieter, and thinking a lot more than normal today.

ah... this kid... how does everything that comes out of that mouth sound like an insult? chung myung tries to reign in his short temper, he didn't want to hit a frail person for no reason, and he knows that you just happen to always talk like that.

hm. i was thinking about you.

woah. pervert.

ah... maybe he should hit your head just once. just once and he'll never hit you again.

i'm kidding.

really? were you now?

i'm really kidding, don't go and look like you're going hit me like you do with our senior brothers.

okay, you were off the hook. for now.

hmph. you shouldn't tease your elders.

what elder.

chung myung forgets that you were the same age as him. well, in this body, not spiritually. but if he were to talk about life experience and reincarnation, he was the older one but fuck! you didn't know that! he didn't tell anyone he was the plum blossom sword saint ugh!

chung myung, are you going to have an aneurysm?

shut up!

═══════════════

winter in mount hua was really cold. and chung myung, surprisingly, didn't do so well with the cold. though, he would rather die than let anyone ever find out about that.

he wakes up early to train as usual, but the cold this morning was so biting, he was tempted to just stay in bed, it wasn't easy being an old man. ah, but the other disciples would be celebrating if he didn't appear for morning practice and that was no good. after all, the future of the sect still depended on him, didn't it?

he got dressed and stepped out of his room —

chung myung.

fuck! couldn't you talk to people like a normal person? why do you love to sneak up on people like this? cheong mun sa-hyung please, please, please give him patience and strength.

you look cold.

he was! great observation! chung myung wants to yell that to you with gritted teeth. he was still, unfortunately, very unnerved by how he couldn't feel your presence.

follow me. i have something for you.

you didn't wait for him to reply, instead grabbing his hand as you dragged him to the kitchen. he didn't try to resist, letting you pull him wherever, like a parent going to see what their child just found.

the two of you walk across the training grounds that had been buried under a blanket of pristine snow, the dim light of your paper lantern showing you the way. treading past and leaving two sets of footprints behind.

you push him into the kitchen, hanging the lantern up on a hook in the wall. chung myung notices the fire in the stone stove, you had already started it before going out to find him, probably because you were boiling something in that pot standing over the fire. chung myung sits on the ground, huddling before the blaze, it felt warm and comforting in the kitchen. the sound of water boiling in the pot and the crackling of the charred wood its heat blowing across his frigid face was, unsurprisingly, giving him a boost of energy.

you carefully move the pot to the side, removing the lid to check the contents in it. looking pleased with the result, you take out a bowl still steaming into your hands and placed it on the ground between you and chung myung as quickly as you could.

he looks over curiously. it looked like some kind of pudding, he doesn't think he's seen it before —

it's milk pudding, with lotus seeds and almonds

oh? he pondered, eyeing the bowl as you handed him a spoon.

aren't these ingredients used to make mooncakes?

chung myung asks, folding his arms. he notices that you were avoiding his gaze. don't tell him you...?

did you steal these from the warehouse?

hey! steal is a strong word!

oh i'm sorry, your highness, did you perhaps take the ingredients from the fucking warehouse?

he scoffed mockingly, exaggerating his manner of speech in mild irritation. he laughed at your grimace and pouty expression. ah, he feels like he's making fun of a toddler, he should be ashamed for bullying a kid at his age.

hm, he hasn't done something this juvenile in a long time. it was oddly nostalgic, in a way. he mused, digging into the soft and smooth surface of the pudding with the spoon, trying to scoop up the lotus seeds and almonds in it too.

mmh. 's not bad.

wow, i didn't know you knew how to compliment people

should i take that back then?

i'm sorry.

═══════════════

you had been working hard in cleaning the floors for spring cleaning. but the boys were so heavy-footed and honestly far too uninterested in their surroundings that the well-polished wooden floorboards you were really proud of was always dusty.

should you just barricade the entrance of the dorms until nightfall? just so they wouldn't walk all over your hard work?

you sit on the steps, your hair tied into a scarf, head resting on the propped broom you held between your legs. thinking long and hard over your predicament while looking over at the training grounds where chung myung was drilling down on everyone else.

the sun hung high in the cloudless afternoon sky, its rays casting down on the compound harshly. you were beginning to feel dizzy and closed your eyes, hoping to relieve the pain growing in your head.

you didn't hear anything outside the constant ringing in your ears, so one can only imagine your surprise when the reddish tint you saw while your eyes were closed grew dark.

who?

you cracked open your eyes to try and make out the person standing before you, wincing when the bright light nearly blinded you.

a familiar chuckle graced your ears as the ringing grew quiet. ah, it was senior baek cheon.

he taps the bamboo flask against your forehead, the water in it swishing against the walls. you take it, grateful, chugging down the contents, choking on it a little when a few drops went down the wrong pipe.

hey, hey... slow down... no one's going to take it away from you...

you cough, turning away in embarrassment. baek cheon sits down next to you on the steps, watching your antics in quiet amusement. you didn't want to look at him, not when he was practically topless, with his hair tied up high and swept over his shoulder.

chung myung looks at the scene from afar, not really clocking anything in his mind until he sees the way you were trying to scoot a little further away like a snail touching salt and your hands covering up your cheeks.

oh.

oh?

so you and baek cheon huh?

chung myung feels the cogs in his brain turn. at times like these he wishes he had someone to talk about this with, maybe tang bo. he would have loved to hear about petty gossip like this, and they could have teased the kids like the old men they were.

so you think something is going on between her and baek cheon sasuk too, huh?

jo-gul's voice comes up from behind, and chung myung didn't need to look over to see the guy's eyes trained on his targets.

if you have so much free time to discuss other people's love lives, i think we can continue with our training right, sahyungs?

chung myung called out loudly for everyone to hear.

jo-gul you fucking bastard!

you and your big mouth...

ugh... i can't get up...

the poor guy could only hang his head in quiet embarrassment. baek cheon laughed at the antics of the others, getting up to walk back to the training grounds. but not before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

if you're going to rest, do it in the shade. i don't think you want to fall ill again tomorrow, do you?

he asks, and you shake your head in response.

mmh. i'll see you around?

see you...

you wave meekly as he left, your insides going through an entire acrobatics routine. wondering what that short exchange was all about. it couldn't be that he liked you back? or did he catch onto your growing crush? you wanted to throw yourself off the cliff.

═══════════════

i didn't take you for a guy that had habits like this.

chung myung gulped down the last of the warm water in his cup, setting it down on the counter, and looked at you quizzically. your elbows were propped up over the edge of the counter and you were perched on the stool in a rather un-ladylike manner.

it's good for your health you know.

psh... isn't that an old wives tale?

he scoffs and shakes his head.

haah...

he sighs.

the young people these days.

you look at him, head tilted in confusion. humming for a bit, you let your thoughts simmer before you decided to pose the question.

hey, why'd you speak like that?

chung myung pauses.

like what?

you know... like an old man?

he sucks in a quick breath. there was no way you of all people would have figured it out, right?

he felt like he was spiralling into a bit of a panic.

hey.

you snap your fingers in his face, moving to stand beside him while he was deep in thought.

earth to chung myung?

he looks at you.

he takes a good look at you.

you were not the brightest bulb in the bush, or however that saying goes, at least when compared to him. there was no way you connected the dots and figured out he was the plum blossom sword saint. yeah, this was for sure a case of the right formula and the wrong answer.

he had to divert your thoughts before you start to think deeper.

i think i hear baek cheon sasuk coming over.

huh?

it was your turn to panic a little, and he darts out of the kitchen to escape what would have been your incoming torrent of scrutiny. you realise just then that you had been completely bamboozled by the bastard chung myung.

running to the door, you yell out a string of curses at the run-away instigator. ah, your blood pressure...

═══════════════

you think chung myung might have been raised by old people. because there was no other plausible reason that he acts the way he does.

sometimes he walks with his hands behind his back, and while most people your age would stand straight and position their arms in a stiff way, chung myung puts his hands on his lower back — like he was supporting it. you know who else does this? the sect leader and the other elders. and it doesn't help his case that he was always slouching a little.

another thing you notice was how his taste in food was a few notches blander than the rest of you. he wasn't fond of anything too salty or sour or anything undercooked. he'd always pick out the softest parts of any cooked meat, saying it was the juiciest, which was somewhat believable. but then wasn't it also nearest to where the animals organs used to be before it was gutted? wouldn't it taste bitter?

speaking of bitter, chung myung liked to eat food that made you squeamish. he'd nag at the nutritional value of them and when nobody wanted to try it out, he'd mumble something about kids these days not knowing what's good for them and scarf it down by himself.

that was another thing about him, why was he always calling you a kid when you were the same age as him? it wasn't that big of a deal for you. but calling the other seniors kids? you wondered if it was his way of showing his martial superiority in a twisted way, or if it was another underlying reason.

surely, it must be because he was raised by the elderly.

god, you were so smart, weren't you? connecting the dots like that?

═══════════════

chung myung was sure you were dropped on the head as an infant.

you had cornered him in the toilets. broke down and the door and everything, just to ask him who he was raised by. it was ridiculous, the scene that was folding out right then and he chooses to ignore that your weak body had somehow broken down a fucking wooden door. he has to ignore that, for his own sanity.

you were on the walls, hands clawing and feet digging on the rough surface. chung myung shirks away, exasperated. somewhere in the afterlife, he thinks he could hear the loud cackle of his friends at his predicament.

chung myung.

he tries to evade eye contact.

chung myung.

oh man, look at that spider on the ceiling spinning a web.

hey where are you looking? i'm over here.

he finally looks at you turning his head slowly.

uh... i think... you might be a bit too close...

a bit too close was a forgiving statement. your head had craned forward far enough that your face was almost less than a centimetre away from his.

you lean back at his reply. still not keeping your eyes off him. after all, he still hadn't answered your question.

you know that i'm an orphan... right?

yeah. so am i.

i wasn't raised by anybody...

oh.

you step back, pondering for a moment. chung myung feels the breath he was holding leave his lungs. you caused him so much anxiety. remember when he thought you were cut from the same cloth as yu iseol? he stands corrected, but you were insane in the opposite direction.

okay. so who raised you?

chung myung feels his eye twitch. why were you asking the same thing? he already told you!

i'm telling you—!

nuh-uh. that's not what i want to know. i want to know if you grew up with old people.

then you should have asked that from the beginning!

i panicked, okay?

he sighs, deeply, and covers his face in his hands. he feels his miraculous second life leaving his body at this exchange.

to answer your question. no, i didn't.

huh. i see.

you answer simply.

chung myung peeks at you through his fingers, surprised at your unusual silence. you, on the other hand, had grown more confused by his answer. if he hadn't been raised by the elderly, then how would anybody act the way he did? not to mention, he had knowledge of niche historical facts that nobody other than a person living in that time would have known of.

can i go now?

huh? oh yeah... sure...? oh! wait—!

you had answered too absentmindedly! you weren't done questioning him! shit! the slippery bastard had gotten away!

you jog out the door, only to bump into someone when turning a corner. a pair of arms catch you from falling. looking up you were met with baek cheon's worried gaze, which morphed into confusion when he realized at the same time as you did that you had ran out of the boys' toilets.

uh... wait... i can explain...

you wondered if a lighting bolt could strike down in broad daylight.

═══════════════

you were sulking in the kitchen.

the guy you had a somewhat infatuation with caught you in an embarrassing moment. you had convinced yourself all chances you had with him were ruined. this was all chung myung's fault. every time you had the slightest inconvenience you would secretly curse him out a little in your heart. you used to feel bad when you still had a working conscience, but not anymore though.

speak of the devil, and he comes walking in.

chung myung came in to ransack the cellar behind the kitchen for wine. he had been craving it for the past few days after his own stash ran out. he had waited for everyone else to be asleep before sneaking in as quietly as he could.

so one can only imagine the shock he felt, even though he swears he had already seen it all, when he finds your shadowy figure sitting crossed-legged on the counter and your two eyes staring right back at him in the darkness.

keugh—!

chung myung bites back a scream. fuck! can he please have one, one. peaceful day where you didn't fuck around with his psyche?

you didn't know he was coming in so soon. but you didn't care much since you had something to give him anyway.

shoving the lacquer box engraved with floral designs into his chest, you motion for him to take a look inside. chung mying complied, hesitantly lifting off the lid to find rows of thin mooncakes, without the egg yolks probably, and another layer under that was filled with a flaky-looking biscuit.

it's called tau sar piah.

he hums, taking the round ball out to inspect it. shrugging, he popped it into his mouth and chews down on the pastry. the flavour, it was familiar. he thinks, was it—?

dried mung bean paste?

you nodded, grinning.

what's this for though?

don't tell me you forgot.

forget? what did he forget?

it's your birthday you goon. well, in a few hours but still.

oh. he had forgotten, momentarily. you really were a good kid, remembering this old man's birthday and making something for him. shit, chung myung thinks he might tear up. was this what it was like to have grandchildren? he thinks he understands why cheong mun sa-hyung might have suggested he take on disciples of his own, or well, trusted him enough to babysit the children of the sect back then. ugh, he was a grandfather after all, and you were somehow his most troublesome child.

he sniffles. closing the lid on the box and grabbing the wine. well, it would be lonely to eat all of this on his own, and waking up the others would be too much of a hassle. suppose you would make do as his drinking buddy tonight. hooking an arm under your knees, he slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. the other grabbing the food and drink.

he jumps on the roofs until he brings you to a spot where the moon felt the closest. he drops you on your feet as you balance yourself on the uneven shingles. chung myung plopped down, leg crossed over the other, as he began to down the wine straight from the bottle.

he hands you the lid of the box, picking out the mooncake and biting into it.

wow. tastes kinda ass.

ugh, ungrateful much?

i never said i wouldn't eat it.

can't you just say your appreciation like a normal person?

a pause.

...thank you.

chung myung replied in a softer voice.

hmph. see? that wasn't so hard?

you huffed, teasing him.

chung myung only scoffed and rolled his eyes.

the night drudged on, and you spent the time talking about everything and nothing. things that happened that week, gossip you've heard, events that had happened in the past, antics of the other sect members...

chung myung feels his eyelids grow heavy. was it alright to rest his grieving heart for a while on his birthday? cheong mun sa-hyung and the others' surely wouldn't mind.

and as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, your voice quips up.

hey, do you think i should confess to sasuk?

psh—!

chung myung spits out the wine in his mouth, choking on the liquid that went up and out his nose. it felt as though he was vomiting out blood from that question alone.

you were really his most troublesome kid.

[misc-obeyme]

HELLO I'M HERE TO RAMBLE ABOUT MC'S MORTALITY. I have literally been grinding event battles and coins and such all day because the power up campaign ends today (I'm under 200 in rank NB wise but geez it's getting harder to keep up)

anyway I always think about what happens to mc after/if they did die. like I love sam's/still-a-moronsexual's interpretation of mc not being entirely human for one

but there's different levels/circles of hell in the Devildom, and that the devildom and the celestial realm are separate from the traditional heaven/hell if I remember correctly? like what happens to mc in the event they do pass on. Everyone says they have a shiny soul. And would mc keep their memories after passing?

Like everyone has different beliefs and I'm just rambling, but there's reincarnation for one. Sometimes I think about Michael and if we'll ever meet him, and if he'd go so far as to pull strings to get mc into the celestial realm (everyone wants the once powerful mortal on their side). And imagine him making sure to keep mc's info access limited, but then let's say luke catches a glimpse and tells the brothers. Imagine mc doesn't remember the brothers either, but there's this dull tug in their gut when they see these demons. Painful angst. (And if mc DID keep their memories, would they immediately choose to fall? Imagine your fave catches you. like I think my mc would stick around to get info and out of curiosity, but would secretly be planning to fall. Even if it was painful, it'd be worth it to them.)

or mc ends up in the devildom because of how big of a tie they have. I wonder if they would/could become an Avatar, and what if they did. Despair possibly? Would they be a regular demon, or have a special power perhaps? Diavolo would probably give them a noble title. but also, ANGST IF THEY HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF ANYTHING. Diavolo early in NB said something about knowing almost every demon, so I wonder if he meets new people to help them get set up?? aha imagine he lets them stay at the castle, and mc wanders off, and bumps into someone they used to know. chaos

There's also the possibility they could become immortal I'm sure with a spell or Solomon's cooking. Or maybe their lifespan is just longer than a humans by a hundred years or so. They simply cherish the time they have, but suddenly they're aging past 120 and they're sweating internally. Solomon I think has talked about feeling like he loses/lost touch with his humanity, until he met mc. I wonder if mc would go through the same if they ended up truly immortal

THIS IS GETTING SO LONG SORRY, BUT THIS IS MY LAST AND FAVORITE IDEA. The three worlds couldn't decide what happens to mc, like this is the first time this has happened. Huge arguments. Sometimes i think about the good place show when I'm brainstorming. ANYWAY, mc becomes a reaper. No one gets their soul. They are now in charge of collecting them, and reapers are sorta neutral right? It's a compromise for everyone. Thirteen is overjoyed. Mc with a scythe, what will they do? Or the night dagger lol

the obey me manga comes out on tuesday i think, I'm probably hitting the bookstore on Thursday. and while I could order it online, something about finding it on the shelf is so fun. I literally finished king of wrath on friday, and read almost the entirety of king of pride on Saturday, and now I'm on king of greed. My friend is concerned with how fast I read because we have a book tracking app that allows buddy reads lol

HAVE A GOOD DAY CC, MANIFESTING YOUR NEXT TEN PULL HAS TWO UR+ CARDS

- ✨ anon

AH thank you, ✨ anon, I need all the luck I can get lol!!

Now see the interesting thing about all of this is that the game doesn't really specify. I do think they have implied that hell is a separate place from the Devildom (aka the Underworld where Solomon walked through the rings and Luci got trapped in the ice). So presumably if MC died and went to hell, they wouldn't actually end up in the Devildom itself. I don't remember if they've implied the same for heaven and the Celestial Realm, but it seems likely that it would be the case.

Personally I like the idea of reincarnation but MC just... keeps being reincarnated as a human on earth lol. Like every time MC dies, the others have to find them again. And they don't remember each life. Though if this happens enough perhaps Solomon or somebody comes up with a spell that can restore all their memories.

I do think it'd be interesting if Michael intervened and somehow got MC to be in the Celestial Realm, especially if they had no memories of the Devildom and everything. Imagine being an angel and then suddenly you get those memories back and you're like, that's it, I'm falling.

Which leads me to the question of how does one fall?

They don't really get into the specifics of that, either. Can you choose to fall? Or do you just do terrible things with the hope that the consequence will be banishment to the Devildom?? I have thoughts about this, but it's all just personal headcanon stuff.

I do think it makes sense for MC to just sorta end up in the Devildom because yo that's basically their home now, you know?

I tend to headcanon that due to the pacts and the "ring" and everything else MC has been through, they have enough magic interfering with their usual biology that they're probably already immortal. Just because that makes sense to me. I also think Solomon probably knows a way to make them immortal if they really wanted to be. vampire!MC lol

AHHH reaper!MC!! Thirteen would be thrilled!! They don't really give us a whole lot of info about the reapers either, but I headcanon that they're neutral and somewhat outside of the whole Devildom vs Celestial Realm situation. I have a lot of ideas about this, but again it's all personal headcanon.

So I think any of these options are possible! And it's certainly fun to think about all the ways in which MC's death might be dealt with. Somehow I don't think we're gonna get anything like that in canon, but I guess you never know!

Ah I love reading, I used to read so much... now I don't read as much as I used to because I'm spending all my time writing al;kdfkjfd. But yes the manga I read the first free chapter they had, but maybe I will buy the book itself...

Anyway, I love all these ideas and I think it's fascinating to think about all of these possibilities!

[minquiec]

My 5k word essay on why I like bringing pain and suffering to the two idiots I love dearly (A thesis)

[alternative title being: me ranting abt jipunk for 2 hours straight im kiddingg]

So like

At this point I'm pretty sure most people can tell I enjoy pulling angst out of nowhere for absolutely NO reason necessary other than pain heeheehaahaa well it ain't gonna stop 😁 CAUSE TRUST THAT I will make sure every au I ever make of these two end in numbingly tragic angst one way or the other 🦅 jkjk they won't all be that bad it'll just have varying degrees of sadness

Anyways

I actually do have a reason for never giving them a happy (canonical or implied) happy ending ☝️ the thing abt me is every detail or like choice I make in character design/relationship/etc is that it's always intentional (most of the time) like there's always some kind of corny reason behind it bc I'm jwndkwjd insane and just think too hard abt two characters that don't even exist.

So like so like

I am an absolute loser for tropes like 'in another life' or 'in every life' or just anything among those lines. Like genuinely it does smth irreparable to my brain it's not even funny.

And basically the thought process for jipunk was like they're LITERALLY from different universes which quite literally means they can't end up together bc it's just not possible. But tbh the whole multiverse logic and how it works is up to interpretation cause y'know it's just a movie but personally I see it as smth pretty impossible for lore sake and stuff HAHSHA

So because the 'original' jipunk (atsv versions) can't end up together, I decided to go and think

"HMM."

"WHAT IF THEY ARE THE EPITOME OF 'ill find you in every universe" BUT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM END IN THE SAME WAY (never ending up tgt)"

Cause for the different au's each of them is technically a different reincarnate in different worlds with different lives.

And like going back to when I said varying levels of sadness: what I meant was in some aus they'll be literally universes apart (which in itself is already sad asf) but in other aus they could live in the same world but their lives are like perpendicular lines because they'll meet and then never cross paths again (BECAUSE this is what their fate is supposed to be if we base it off their atsv counter parts: they were never meant to be bc they're from different universes)

BUT DONT KILL ME YET BC

technically

teccchnicaalllllyyy

In the long run they do have a happy ending

(longass run bru)

So there isn't a proper timeline for which universes 'happen first' bc that just doesn't make sense but

The modern au where it has the convenience store

Is their happy ending

Endgame au fr

Cause if you think abt it right (this is a headcanon), hb isn't the type of person to fall in love based on looks.

Yet in the modern au he ends up crushing on a silly little employee of the convenience store he goes to.

And like it's just this pull he can't understand for the life of him??? Cause it feels so shallow to him to like someone bc he thinks their pretty

Little does he know

So after they get tgt in the modern au, I'm thinking of this one moment where he kind of figures it out/sort of/not really but he is just like

"idk what it is but it feels like I've spent lifetimes with you"

BECAUSE YOU HAAAAAAVE@)$()2(# AAAAAAUEGEGHHEGEG JM SOBBING

HE SAYS IT BC HE REALIZES HIS SOUL IS JUST SO COMFORTABLE WITH HER PRESENCE ALMOST LIKE ITS GOTTEN USED TO IT SINCE A LONG LONG TIME AGO

And I realized just now but omfg the comic I made where he drunk confess and goes 'I liked you first'

HES LITERALLY BEEN LIKING HER FIRST IN THEIR FIRST LIFE (ATSV) IM GOING TO FUCKIGNNEF THROIWN UP

Soulmates idc idc IDCCCC

Took the quote I love you in every lifetime and RAAAAANNNN WITH IT

I enjoy tragic love stories tm

This isn't delusion anymore this is derangement

They r so dear to me

They are my kdramas, they are my bridgerton, they are my therapy this is how I cope.

[megatraven]

Yo, I just finished season 3 of Alex's route and I love bit to death! I honestly liked it more than Season 2 which felt a bit directionless until the third act, but season 3 was almost perfect! Can't wait for season 4!

Also, I've been inspired to write a fic that's basically a route for Hercules since he's my favorite Greek Hero and they did my boy so dirty and the prospect of a romance between Herc and the reincarnation of the Goddess that ruined his life has enraptured me. And because I can't abandon Alex, it'd eventually turn into a poly relationship with them as well.

NICE!!!! alex's season three is a huge fave for me, did you get the passionate or thrilling end? 👀 because while both fuck SEVERELY. the season three thrilling end is a damned masterpiece with how chilling it is. i like it more than season 2 also, but i still honestly really love season 2. there's so much angst and i am the biggest angst fan on the planet >:3c i hope you enjoy season 4! it's short and cute :33

HELL YEAH!!!! @seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana and I have talked about hercules routes in the past (we are big multishippers in this fandom) so i always support a good non-canon romance >:) while i don't have any personal gripes with hercules' portrayal, i love the power of love (and the power of MC being Cute and Badass) changing the hearts of lovestruck's terrible men.

never considered an ot3 with him, mc, and alex before but now i am! my personal favorite ot3 involving him is with mc and hydra (which btw, hydra's season 1 gives some more background on why hercules is the way he is, if you're interested in that)

ANYWAYS. the angst of hercules being with the woman who is the reincarnation of the goddess that hates him is so fucking good. does he turn his back on his father's orders to bring her to olympus for awakening into hera? does he distance himself from the woman he loves because of something she can't help? when he looks at her knowing that Hera is beneath her skin, is he disgusted? can he pick out hera's features in her face? does he find some sort of love for hera through loving mc? THE POTENTIAL IS ENDLESS!!!!

[vacantgodling]

🐐

lmao thank you :’) i did mention owen and helios before but i suppose i’ll give more context to them ->

owen & helios used to be the main characters of a long abandoned and repurposed fantasy story, parts of which are actually the basis for my wip nondisclosure (of which nyseah, alona and the moving parts of their storylines are actually still from)

however, i dropped owen and helios’s parts of the story because i just couldn’t make it make sense with the way i wanted to focus on nyssie lol.

tl;dr owen was the reincarnation of the goddess who created a dimension alternate to earth. she grew up in a dysfunctional family that became even more fractured when she was diagnosed with a form of cancer in one of her legs, and had that leg amputated to save her life. her family didn’t want to help her with her disability and she got made fun of relentlessly at school. however, she ends up getting yanked into the alternate dimension by her Actual biological father, a dude named christopher yhuuates with his fucking ??? cats that can create dimensional rifts dude idk.

anyway once she arrives in this new world, she’s basically told that an evil company (the same one from nondisclosure but i’ve changed their goals for that wip) wants to collide the alternate dimension with the earth dimension because it has better resources ever since the goddess abandoned this dimension. so owen needs to figure out her powers and ascend so she can stop the company from doing this and restore the dimension to its former state. to protect her on this journey, christopher recruits a spurned half-dragon prince who was ousted by his purist dragon stepmother, helios, to protect her.

owen and helios had that typical “we don’t get along at first but we’re good for each other” energy that like what, every fucking anime relationship is? helios was big and protective of owen and owen was the softer edge to helios that helped him process his trauma and hurt from being ousted from his people as she can relate from her own home life.

i think that’s around where i stopped planning their story because nyseah has always been infinitely interesting to me and i got attached to the angst that was alona and 12 so i kinda explored those parts of the story super hard and then a few years ago finally decided that i should give them their own wip. owen and helios (and some other characters from that wip) have sat in limbo since then, but all the relevant characters have ended up in nondisclosure.

yeeee.

send me an emoji and i’ll tell u about some long abandoned or shelved ocs

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

Okay okay sorry for barging in here unannounced (jk not really-) but like HOLY SHIT!! I got my Damm ass dragged into yet ANOTHER fandom like JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK LET ME HAVE PEACE!

I got dragged into the deadplate fandom. Deadplate is a game about a guy, Rody, who gets a job at a well known restaurant who is owned by the this guy/Head chef, Vincent. I haven’t seen much of the game since I was fed info out of order but I do know this game has canabalism in it plus some other dark shit bc I find it ironic how the game puts the player in the situation of a RESTAURANT with a FUCKING CANABAL?!?!? I would say that imo the fandom would have hella fear play gt vibes HEAVY HEAVYYYY angst potential and lots of ✨ T R A U M A ✨.

10/10 would not like to be in that world if I was reincarnated thank you very much!

That’s my daily rant bc why not??? Anyways hope you’re doing well and staying hydrated bc if not I will come through your walls to give you water.

Bye bye~ !!!!

- 🌽 anon

(Ps: I’m trying to gain the courage to either come off anon or maybe drop my blog in (in private maybe) so then you can put a blog to this amazing anon teehee. So far I have no balls to do so)

I was about to say "I have enough on my plate without adding on a deadplate", but then you described the game and I was just like "THIS FUCKING SHIT"

I actually gushed about this slightly to an online buddy four months ago but, uh, turns out they don't really like cannibalism stuff. Known them for years, had no idea. Although, I don't THINK Vincent is exactly a cannibal. He talks about how he was going to feed the dish to Rody, but Vincent also eats his ear way too easily, so idk

But yeah, we talked about how fascinating/neat it would be if it was used with an actual pred chef and prey worker. Like, the pred has traveled the world in culinary pursuit to taste ANYTHING and somehow this poor prey worker is essentially ambrosia to them. SO much angst potential with a yandere/possessive pred that refuses to let them go after finally tasting/feeling something other than nothingness

Would I want to be in that world? No. Does it compel me? Absolutely

(You're welcome to use your account or not! I like to think of my place as safe and comfortable to everyone (with obvious exceptions like pedos and shit), but you'll always be Corn to me ngl)

[rayshippouuchiha]

I've finally hit the point where I have to write the first fic for a fandom. I'm crying. There's nothing on Ao3 and I didn't bother checking FFN since I don't know how they tag CNs. Heroic Death System is so good, though. Maybe that's the problem. Its so good that no one ever wanted to add on. Or CNs just aren't popular. T-T All I wanted to do was read about Shang Ke BSing a reason for the change in behavior. But there's nothing at all. So now I'm going to have to write all the fics for it. I'll start with Arc 2 Redux since that Arc eats at me the most.

BTW, Heroic Death System is a Quick Transmigration story where Shang Ke has to have a Heroic Death as ordered by the System to fix the plotline that went badly thanks to the OG body. (Quick Transmigration refers to the Host being tasked with a mission and once its completed, taken to another world to continue on. Sometimes its to fix the plotholes, sometimes to "keep the plot on track". Usually in the case of the later, the Host accidentally gets the MC or target character to fall in love which derails the plot entirely. Whether or not there's penalties or workarounds depends on the System. Most of the QT novels I've read, in the case of romance, have the partner reincarnating across the worlds as well, so its still one partner. Usually it means there are Past Life Shenanigans in the background.) SK has a great internal thought process, its always funny. In the earlier Arcs he's a bit oblivious but he catches on partway through Arc 2. Also, it's a bit spicy in the later Arcs. SK ends up eagerly welcoming his lover's advances in the later lives even if he has to hold off for a while to stay in character. Each Arc is a great mini-story in its own right, if you like tragedy, with all but 2 Arcs having a repeat where SK can return and live a happy life with his partner. If SK gets a good score on his life, he can earn Rebirth cards that let him live with his lover's different incarnations. Also, there's Past Life Drama that comes up and makes it so there's suddenly Plot! in the later Arcs. It was pretty interesting. Good Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel (in some characters PoV), MPreg (in some lives), some Torture not explicitly described, Illnesses/Disabilities, Shapeshifters, Beastpeople, Sentinel&Guide, Fantasy, Cultivation, AlphaxAlpha, God AU and Ghost AU are the main things SK lives through. Also, his partner is very ... forceful isn't quite right. He loses SK every life in traumatic circumstances so his subconscious wants him to make the most of every moment, which leads to quick romance and ... OK, honestly, he's kinda yandere in some lives from past life trauma. He's very much the domineering CEO type in this, blended with yandere moments. SK is ok with this since he can get back together with his partner quickly in the new life and because his partner chills out in his redos since he stays with him. I'm trying not to give out spoilers for anyone who wants to read this later. Each Arc, not counting his redos, are about 10 or so chapters each, so they're good for bitesized reading. There's 275 chapters altogether, fully translated on snowycodex . com.

Anyways, I love the redo lives and I just keep imagining how SK explains his differences/BSing a reason for the change from OG body's actions. My Heart Beats For You (CW: brain tumors, heart diseases, car accident, kinda suicidal behavior(which occurs throughout the novel, i.e. the title)) has me in a death grip that randomly visits me a lot so I have high hopes I can write something good for it. I'm planning on having SK be "drunk" and whitewash his past to his lover and his friends. I have so much of the story he'd tell plotted out by now but I'm just going to have to figure out how to space it out and add in interruptions from the other characters.

(*/▽＼*) I want to share it with you if I can finish it. I'm a huge fan. I'd love to see what you think.

Fuck yes babe this sounds fantastic. Link me when you get it done and I'll check it out!

[taegularities]

Kiki 👀 idk if you read manga/manwahs but god you need to read this one "The broken ring : this marriage will fail anyways" like I was re-reading yesterday

it just remind me of cmi idk it giving same vibes and the different lifeline and lifetime the different timelines element has always been so fascinating !!! It's so good you need to check it out

Plus the back story of it so DAMN angst and pure love shredding. it's based off very popular Korean novel 🏌🏻‍♀️ it's just so so so good I really really want you to go read I can't wait for your thoughts on 🫣 also beware of the upcoming spoilers

~ 🐠 anon

hey love !! :') kiki is an amazing writer but not the author of cmi lol :D misnaming doesn't feel v good but :( i guess it was unintentionally tho, so it's okay!!

i don't know that manga yet, but different lifetimes, angst and romance are always intriguing lol !! i guess since c&f3 dropped, we've all jumped aboard that reincarnation train huh 👀 i'm all over the place, but I'll see if i can check it/the book out when i can, thank you love !! 🤍

[pinkseas]

[parasocial bestie] that is so good that is really nice im glad to hear that!! also grindset mindset can be quite tiring esp in genshin with limited resources per day and im already an endgame player so i dont.,... need 2 worry abt the overworld mats tbh HAKSJFHFKSh go forth with the options u have cus at least it's something!! and i am definitely not eyeing intensely from the screen if u boutta write any xlmi i swear ANYWAY i wish you the same wonderful day too its alrd been great with the insane xiaolumi exchanges on my side but it can be better!! one day i can get my ass off anon so communication gets easier but that can wait in the future so have fun <33333

THE WAY ALMOST EVERYONE I KNOW IS ENDGAME 90% of my friends who play genshin have been here for years i feel like a tiny little baby its hardly been over 2 months now........ 69 days playtime tomorrow. please god let me pull ayaka on my 69th day ill give Anything

one day !!!!!! never any rush i will simply continue to support u always and Lose My Entire Fucking Mind every time you send an ask as we make each other's brainworms worse <3 the fic ive Been working on is. well. girls who are obsessed with dreams and "reincarnation" and unique forms of angst will do anything to combine those things won't they <- im so normal i promise. anyways azhdaha is fucking DEAD time to open the google docs