#ao3writing

[veritas-scribblings]

(y)earn

RATING: Explicit

WORDS: 7,713

SUMMARY: When Walburga and Orion Black are found dead at Grimmauld Place, Regulus Black deals with the fallout.

Or: The things Barty Crouch Jnr. does in the name of love. 

[inspired by: earn and broken | instead of doing work, I spent all day writing this | look, the plot is loose, I admit it | it originated as pure smut and grew...it just didn't grow well, haha]

‘What does that have to do with anything?’ Regulus asks quietly. ‘My parents may have been many things, but believe me when I say that they were thrilled at the prospect of having another son and heir. Particularly given how disappointing they found my brother.’

Orion Black had a saying: that looking down was a sign of weakness. As a child, Regulus had not understood it. Looking down, avoiding eye contact, had been his way of concealing deception. His way of keeping hidden, keeping secret, truths he did not wish his parents to know.

But now, Regulus understands the saying. Well. Because he cannot bring himself to make eye-contact with the Auror sitting opposite him, and he knows that it is because of weakness and he knows it is because of his hidden truth.

The Auror in question is one Frank Longbottom who looks, for all he likely tries not to, like a quintessential Gryffindor Quidditch player. There’s just something about him that’s conflictingly amiable and cocky, like he’s torn between being ‘too big for his boots’ while simultaneously reeking of ‘sincerity and trustworthy’. It is probably for these reasons, Regulus supposes, that Frank was chosen as the one to be placed in a room with Regulus Black.

Because Regulus, being a Black, would sense an ulterior motive from a league away. And Regulus, being a Black, might trust Frank for the purity of his blood.

‘My parents gave me everything I needed, did everything they needed to to make it happen,’ Regulus says, finally looking up to meet Frank’s gaze head-on, because this is a truth he does not need to conceal. ‘I’m sure you’ll find all of this on record if you petition the Registry of Magical Births, Deaths and Marriages and Saint Mungos for my records. I have nothing to hide.’

‘Then why did you run away?’ Frank asks.

[onwards to ao3]

[drowning-in-greed]

AO3 Tag Roulette Writing Challenge: July 2023

The below list was compiled using the AO3 Tag Roulette random generator and will provide you with five tags from Archive of Our Own (AO3). Your task is to write a story using all of them. Anything goes with Tag Roulette - from romantic to fantasy to just downright weird, you never know where the tags will take you.

Remember, you can do as much or as little with each tag as you like, and you're not limited to those tags alone. Get creative with it, and make the tags work for you. The goal of this challenge is to inspire you to write, so don't be afraid to take the tags in a direction that feels right for you.

[starsmacabray]

me in my authors end note after dropping the most heart wrenching, vomit inducing, miserable chapter i’ve ever written:

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

GIT BEVVER SWOON :(

"Get out"

Moxie and Millie blink back at their boss. They were both concerned, but it was Millie who spoke up first.

"Are you sure you don't want-"

"It's been a very long day and Loonie needs to get home now." There was no smile on Blitz's face, and any pleasantries in his voice were worn thin. He couldn't be having whatever conversation Millie wanted to force on him right now.

"Right, it's just. The van..."

"Is mine" Blitz finished her sentence "And you have two god damn seconds to get out of it before you're both out of a job."

Moxxie slid off of Millie's lap and opened the car's front door. He jumped down to the sidewalk in front of their apartment and reached for Millie's hand. He motioned for her to join him. Millie frowned, but did as Blitz asked and got out of the car.

Blitz sped off as soon as her feet touched the ground.

Loona had fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the floor of the van back in Sloth. Blitz considered leaving her there for the night, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She deserved her bed, even if might be a fight to get her there. The growl that Loona gave when Blitz told her it was time to get up was far less scary than the bits of feather and blue blood staining his seats.

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

He was tougher than his emotions, smarter too. With a deep breath and the familiar pinch of his claws digging into his palm, Blitz was able to swallow down his emotions and forget about them. Loona needed to get inside.

The doctor had said Loona may be out of it for a little while after receiving her shot and the fight they endured to get the hound her vaccine had been tiring. His daughter was all growl and no bite by the time they'd gotten back to Pride. She was hardly a fight as Blitz got her upstairs and tucked into bed (or well, dropped off at her door. Blitz wasn't allowed inside her room).

She might be the one thing he hadn't ruined.

The van needed to be cleaned. Blitz knew how to clean blood out of upholstery, he knew how to clean Stolas's blood from upholstery, it's not as if they hadn't had their fun before. Stolas hadn't been afraid of knives or pain. He fucking asked for the bear traps. Blitz had seen Stolas hurt many times, he'd always been fine.

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

Blitz stopped by the kitchen before starting his work on the van. He poured dish soap in a large bowl until it covered the bottom and filled it with hot water. He grabbed towels, additional cleaners, and a wire brush. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, there was no way he was doing this without a drink.

Starting was the first step. Blitz started on the bottle before he started on the van. He didn't know where to start with the van. Feathers, he supposed. He could pick up feathers.

There were too many feathers.

How many times had the feathers been annoying? A disturbance? They were something to disrupt a meeting when Blitz would accidentally cough one up. They were something that needed to be preened, which meant watching Stolas groom himself for hours sometimes after a rough night between the two of them. They were itchy, and ticklish, and annoying. But these feathers were damaged. These feathers were sad. There were so many of them.

Blitz didn't count how many feathers there were in total but there was enough to make a small bouquet of them. He wondered how many more were back at Striker's. Blitz cursed himself for forgetting a trash can. He couldn't abandon the small collection of feathers he'd collected. He put them on the front seat for now.

He needed a break. Blitz sat on the floor of the van with his feet dangling from the opening in the side. He pulled his phone out and took a drink. He looked through his photos: Loona's adoption Day, Lunch with M&M, him and Verosika, him and Fizz. He stops on the picture of him and Stolas. The Royal loved documenting their time together but he didn't know about this picture. He didn't know the way Blitz smiled while Feathers hooted quietly in his ear as he slept. Stolas didn't know that Blitz took pictures of them while Stolas was sleeping, when Blitz was allowed to be his most vulnerable.

Blitz focused on a blood stain in his peripheral. He looked back at the photo. The two images couldn't be any more different.

He hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

Blitz brought to the bottle to his lips and tipped it back once more. He rolled up his sleeves and got back to work.

Working was easier than thinking. It was easier than feeling. It accomplished something, more than feeling ever did. Blitz scrubbed until his arms hurt, until his chest heaved from exertion and he couldn't feel anymore because everything hurt, so nothing hurt. Her only managed two of the stains. He hadn't yet touched the worst of them.

If Stolas dies he might have to sell the van. He couldn't even begin to think about that.

"Stolas is fine. He's a prince, he's....powerful. He'll be fine." There was nobody around for Blitz convince other than himself, and even then he didn't feel that convinced of his words.

His answer is weren't at the bottom of that bottle. The world was swaying peacefully. Blitz had tipped over tipsy but was still able to feel his face and several bruised ribs from earlier today. He abandoned the van and walked off.

It wasn't hard to find a distraction in Pride. Wether it be drugs or sex or some other vice, Blitz was sure to find something that would help him numb. He was too far from the Royal circle to walk, but if he could have that's where Blitz would have ended up. Instead he ended up at a bar.

Blitz lasted two drinks before getting kicked out, but managed to swipe a bottle of something off the bottom shelf on the way. He could feel a throbbing in his jaw from where he'd been punched, but the rest of his face was sufficiently numb. He swayed along the sidewalk as he returned home. He had almost forgotten why he'd even gotten drunk in the first place.

The bloodstains were still in the carpet of the van. The seat might as well just be dyed to match at this point. No, die it black. This shade of dark blue is sickening.

No it's not, blood is cool!

Blitz thinks today he might side with Fizzarolli. There is nothing cool about the attempted murder scene in the back of his van. Blitz isn't excited at the sight of this, he's horrified. It takes a lot to gross Blitz out. He sits on the sidewalk for a while to catch his breath.

Soap and water and elbow grease hadn't been enough to get the stains out. He tries something more stringent. Bleach may eat away at the fabric if he doesn't stop scrubbing, but at least the blood will be gone.

I think you should come and save me!

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt. Stolas hadn't even sounded scared on the phone. Had he been scared later?

"No, fucking stop it!" Blitz slapped himself with his own tail. Worrying wasn't going to do anything. He didn't want to feel right now.

This wasn't his fault. Blitz couldn't be to blame. He didn't know how much danger the prince was in, it wasn't his job to protect Stolas, he had a duty to his daughter. It was all just.....really bad. It wasn't his fault.

Then why did Blitz feel so fucking guilty?

He found half a pack of cigarettes under the passenger seat and took another break. The burn of the smoke was nice. The immediate little rush that came to his head after the first smoke was nice. The stars were nice.

No, the stars were Stolas.

Blitz looked up at the sky. There weren't many stars that could be seen from the streets of Imp City. With the lights and Blitz's unsteadiness they all sort of blurred together. The stars were falling, Stolas was hurt. He hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

"Fuck, Birdie." There was no coo in reply, no gentle hoot, no amusing quip that went halfway over Blitz's head half the time. Blitz turned his head and remembered just how alone he was.....On the edge of his van, talking to a bird shaped blood stain, doing everything in his power to just forget. If he could erase Stolas from his memory, he could save himself from the pain of losing him.

Blitz touched the skull on his choker, his only living memory of his mother. Tears sprang to his eyes.

For a moment Blitz considered lighting the van on fire. All he would have to do was drop his cigarette in the right spot. He could even stay right where he was, he could blow up with it. That would save everyone so much pain. It wasn't his fault Stolas got hurt, but Blitz knew deep down it was.

Blitz only entertained the thought for a moment. Loona was inside, sleeping and unaware of what had happened today. He couldn't have her wake up to that. He knew she would be fine on her own, but Blitz didn't need to die today. Not everyone had left him just yet.

Blitz finished the last of his drink and thew the bottle outside hard enough to shatter it. He took off his coat and wadded it up until it was vaguely something he could hold onto. He curled on the backseat next to the larger blood stain. He tried not to think about it. Blitz looked at his phone one more time, at the photo Stolas was never supposed to know about, but now may never get the chance to. Blitz had done everything in his power not to feel but he couldn't help it.

Stolas might die and it was all his fault.

Blitz started to type out a message to Stolas. He wanted to wish him better, to tell him he was sorry he was hurt. He considered apologizing for not being there. He fell asleep before he could do much more than type out one message, let alone send it. It was his best attempt at telling Stolas how he felt.

GIT BEVVER SWOON :(

[everything-is-as-it-was]

Can I just say how absolutely grateful I am that fanfiction just... exists? Here in ao3 we have a literal fountain of literary works, some good, some not so good, some serious, some written in fifteen minutes and posted, all done for the love of the art and for the love of creating. Because all creating has worth, whether it's taken seriously, or it's silly, or it's just practice, or someone's put their entire heart and soul into it.

In the beginning of 2024, before I began my fic a semester abroad, I was completely in a writing rut. I'd finished the first draft of a novel over a year before and hadn't felt up to tackling the issue of rewriting it yet, so when I had a little idea of forcing a university student to live in the phouse I was like shit, why not. And I kid you not, it's changed my life.

I have fanfiction to thank for teaching me to love writing again. I have fanfiction to thank for finally choosing what I want to study, and instead of going into web development (lord) deciding instead to go with what's always been my passion. I have fanfiction to thank for connecting me with other fantastic writers who are also doing it simply for the love of the craft.

Through fanfiction I've been able to improve my own writing skills, improve my collaboration skills (thanks @nobodynobodyno) and also improve my editing skills (thanks @llama-sidekick and also thanks for reading my sub-par german lmao).

So yeah, I'm absolutely putting "has written over 200k words recreationally in 2024" on my university statement because without those 200k words I wouldn't be applying at all.

[smootnytechnik]

I started writing chapter 15 of Canary's thrill, the first to kill

And I was actually really enjoying how it was going!

...until I suddenly closed the program

And for some reason it didn't autosave

So uh yeaaaah half an hour of work down the drain

[izelthewashbear]

Canary's thrill, the first to kill - chapter 14 (fragment)

I'll be honest, it might be my favorite chapter of this story so far! I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

The BAMbunker was probably one of the last safe spots on the whole server. After they both got in, Jimmy closed and locked the hatch, not letting anyone else join them inside. Lizzie still tried to rip the armor off herself, but to no avail. She needed Jimmy's help, whether she liked it or not.

"Just... Be careful, okay?" she asked "We don't want you to accidentally hit me, right?"

"No" Jimmy just answered, clearing his throat to no avail. He jumped on top of the table, the wood quietly creaking under his weight.

Lizzie sat down on the chair, her stare still alert and ready, if Jimmy at some point lost control over himself again. She flinched the moment he swung his claws across the chestplate. It left quite deep marks on the armor, but did not quite break it. It would probably took quite a long time to break them completely.

"Wait, wait!-" she called out before Jimmy attacked her again, covering her face with her hands. "You're gonna hurt me if you just fling your talons like that! Can't we do it... Slower?"

"We have the time?" Jimmy asked in a low, guttural voice.

"Yes, Jimmy, we do... The world doesn't have to end today."

She's wrong. It will. The sooner you get out there to finish off the others, the better.

"It probably will."

"But we... I don't have to die right now, right?" she asked nervously, trying to put on a reassuring smile. For just a second, her expression got right to Jimmy, piercing through his heart. She was a part of his flock, he really did have to protect her no matter what... Even if it took time and patience, and he was quickly running out of both.

[vaseoflilies]

Elysian Fields Chapter 3: Low Key

warning: there is an emotional breakdown, descriptions of injury and body after a coma, and references to torture an: please check this out on AO3 as i have more information regarding this story on there

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Jun began by telling you about herself. 

She had a rather sad past, you thought. She had been an only child; her mother was unable to conceive another. This left her alone throughout her childhood. Her father, dissatisfied with not having a son, arranged for her to be married off at the tender age of fifteen to a high-ranking coworker of his.

Her husband was nothing short of abusive. A complete and utter waste of oxygen. Hearing that he was upset because she couldn’t conceive when she was only seventeen had your jaw clenching and your mind whirling with anger. How could someone do that to someone else? You didn’t understand.

She stopped talking about her past when she sensed your anger and decided to concentrate on what you were asking her.

“The Eternal Paradise Faith,” she began, shuffling through a few gray kimonos, “saved me in more ways than one, just like it saved you. I stumbled upon the building after running away from my husband a few years ago. Lord Douma saved me that winter night.”

You smiled softly. Both Dr. Isha and Jun held Lord Douma in high regard, which made you curious: who was he? “Tell me about Lord Douma,” you asked, allowing her to help you into the gray kimono. “He seems like a decent man. He did save me from a bear, after all.”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you recalled what the other members were wearing. White. The cafeteria was mostly filled with white, like a flurry of snow. You remembered not liking waking up in such a dull color. Was gray any better? But still, did it really matter?

“He’s a man of action,” she chuckled, gathering various hygiene products. “He’s always on the move, leading worship, planning, and orchestrating activities. He’s also a great listener. If a God ever walked the earth, it would be him.”

Wow. 

You raised your eyebrow. With those words, the name “Eternal Paradise Faith” became much clearer. You didn’t consider yourself particularly religious, but based on the subtle decorations and mostly plain outfits of the regular members, you assumed it was some sort of Buddhist or Shinto philosophy.  You seemed to remember basic knowledge, at least.

As for your feelings about being here? You still felt a sense of unease, and fear continued to creep in, but it was significantly diminished. There was no doubt that you were grateful to be alive. When you saw the state of your leg without the bandage, your heart skipped a beat, and you could swear you felt the sharp sting of the initial wound. Whoever this Douma character was, you knew you needed to express your gratitude to him. After all, it wasn’t as if you planned to stay here indefinitely.

“I’ve been taking care of your hygiene regularly while you were unconscious, so if you need any assistance, please let me know and don’t feel embarrassed,” she said. Her words interrupted your train of thought. Just how much had she taken care of? The idea of her bathing you while you were unconscious made you feel somewhat guilty and uncomfortable, as it involved someone touching you in such a manner. “When you say maintaining hygiene, do you mean…”

“Yes.”

You purse your lips. No wonder she was so kind to you. She had been caring for you so intimately without really knowing whether you would live or die. “Thank you, Jun.”

She gazed at you, her eyes brimming with emotion, and she wrapped you in a gentle embrace. “I was terrified that you were going to die,” she confessed. You couldn’t help but admire her. The way she cared for someone was nothing short of brilliant. 

You were indebted. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ �� ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

After about an hour and a half of talking with Jun, eating a meal she brought, and getting more information about Paradise, you began to question if Lord Douma was ever arriving.

“If he’s not coming, I don’t see why I have to stay here,” you said, quickly eating the dango that she had sneakily fetched from a cart for you. “I could try walking or-”

“Please, be patient,” she interrupted, taking a piece of dango for herself and leaving you with a scowl. “Dr. Isha probably got busy. I’m sure he’ll arrive any second.” 

During your conversation, you learned a lot about Paradise. It was home to more than 200 followers, with some outsiders also working on the property. Jun informed you that the majority of followers worked here and contributed to the community in some way. The property included over a dozen buildings and had an intriguing layout. At the center of it all was a lake teeming with a diverse array of plant and animal life. And even better, just a few hundred feet, was a large hot spring that was modernized. 

It sounded so beautiful; it was almost too good to be true. There had to be some downside to all this.

“Do people usually stay here?” 

“Typically, yes. Unless they attain Eternal Paradise or are turned away,” Jun replied, absentmindedly playing with her empty dango stick. “No one really has the desire to leave. We’re safe here.”

Her words struck a chord with you. Why would anyone abandon such a sanctuary in the first place? No wonder no one wanted to leave. The basic necessities of life���food, clothing, and safety—were guaranteed here. But this place offered more than just the essentials. It promised salvation. It provided an environment to nurture a family. According to Jun, achieving Eternal Paradise was the pinnacle of achievement, and while members were chosen biweekly, it was the ultimate goal for everyone.

But what does it entail? What must you offer to remain in such a place? This was a cult, no doubt. Contemplating all of this, especially having just awakened from a coma, gives you a headache. 

“May we come in?” You hear from the shoji doors, noticing two moving shadows. Fucking, finally ! “We have brought gifts!” Another voice chimes in, a rather smooth male one. “I’m so, so sorry that we’re late!” 

Jun clasps her hands together, a smile gracing her face as she opens the doors for Dr. Isha and the man you assume to be Lord Douma.

Your jaw drops. 

You’ve never seen anyone so peculiar yet so striking. His hair, as white as snow, seems to defy gravity with its wild disarray. Sharp, angled spikes rise from his head in a chaotic symphony, framing his pale, rather cold-looking face quite handsomely. The hair around his head flares to the side, curving backwards, and a single lock slants down to the right side of his face, falling between his eyes. On the top of his head was a pointed black hat with golden stitching. You’ve seen people with strikingly different appearances before, but never anyone this flamboyant. 

His clothing tells a different story. 

It’s clear that his kimono is expensive. It’s a traditional red robe made from silk, as smooth as the calmest imaginable lake. He also wears a thick, black cape with two tresses patterned in purple and black that reach to his knees. The robe is adorned with two large symbols, each on his upper chest. His height is also impressive, towering over Jun, who is bowing to him, and Dr. Isha, who is greeting both of you.

You’d never seen a Japanese man look even remotely similar to Douma. 

No wonder Jun regards him as a God.

Douma greets Jun and moves closer to your hospital bed before settling into the small corner at the end. “I’m so sorry for the delay!” he exclaims, placing a basket brimming with various items beside him. He claps his hands together dramatically, his face adorned with a smile. “Please accept my apologies!”

You blink at him as he bows, his hands pressed together. This man is the leader? His behavior strikes you as rather childish. “It’s alright, I suppose,” you respond.

He ceases his bowing and straightens up. Your gaze drifts away from him, landing on the two women, who are sporting broad smiles. Dr. Isha’s face is flushed, and Jun appears no different. A twinge of annoyance prompts you to clench your jaw, and you shift your attention back to Douma.

His eyes capture your attention. This was the first time you’ve ever seen eyes quite like these and the longer you look at them, the more it feels like you’re swimming in a sea of rainbows. “Could we have some space, please?” he suddenly requests, his smile broadening as he addresses the two women. “I’d like to have a conversation with our guest, if that’s alright.”

Dr. Isha’s smile faded. The two women exchanged hesitant glances before sliding open the shoji door and exiting, closing it gently behind them.

He turned his gaze back to you, his smile giving way to a more sincere expression. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together in a display of deep sympathy. “I cannot simply imagine the emotions and struggles you must be confronting right now.” His words were so soft, they were barely above a whisper.

“I’m thankful to be alive, so thank you.”

His lips curled upward into a gentle smile. “Dr. Isha told me you’re having trouble with your memory.” He began to rummage through the basket on the bed before picking up a few items. “These are a few items from the attack. Let me know if they jog your memory, okay?”

You nodded, your gaze falling on the first item. It was your haori. You had one that matched your brother, though his face was still a fuzzy memory. “Can I hold it?” you asked, already reaching out to take it.

He handed it over to you, and you began to inspect it. The haori, patterned with sunflowers, was in a pitiful state. It was ripped and torn in several places, and the fabric that was once carefully stitched was now marred with dried blood stains and dirt.

You looked up.

Douma was observing you intently as you clenched the fabric in your hands. You didn’t remember much, not really. Looking at the dirt reminded you of mud, but oddly enough, you couldn’t discern whether what you remembered was a dream or an actual memory. Everything seemed more blurred the longer you pondered.

“I remember mud,” you told him, setting the ripped haori down. “Dream or not a dream?”

“Not a dream.” He shook his head, picking up the haori and examining it himself. “It was raining. I don’t know why you were in the forest, but I’m thankful I was there. There was a bear larger than a station wagon that grabbed you and threw you down the mountainside."

You let out a soft tsk. “I was afraid,” you confessed to him, your voice cracking and your hands trembling slightly as you spoke. “Every time I woke up, fear was there, like an unwelcome guest. It’s still with me, this fear, and I don’t understand why.”

Douma, still fixated on you, remained silent. You didn’t think he blinked even once during your interaction. “Well then, tell me about yourself,” he suggested, rising from the bed and moving towards the kettle that Jun had placed earlier. “How does that sound? Let’s see if it jogs your memory, shall we?”

You clicked your tongue, feeling a headache coming on and your emotions running high. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” you countered.

He whipped his head back, his long platinum hair swishing against his waist. “Me?” He chuckled softly under his breath as he plugged the kettle into the wall. You were so thankful that this place had electricity. “Well, isn’t that interesting?” he mused, seemingly intrigued. 

You tilted your head, confused. “What’s interesting?”

He stands still for a moment, his interest piqued by the sound of the water heating up. “Hmm,” he murmurs, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. You can’t help but notice his discomfort, which in turn stirs a sense of nervousness within you. You wonder if your presence is causing him unease. Breaking the silence, he asks, “What is it that you wish to know?”

You shrugged. "Why do you help people the way you do?" You blurted out the question. You were not particularly good at talking to people, let alone asking them personal questions. But talking to Jun was different; it was simple. She preferred to do most of the talking. But now, talking to the man who saved you, you were extremely nervous. “It must be hard. How does that make you feel?” you added.

He let out a soft chuckle before finally turning to face you. Leaning against the wall, he responded, “I lead my people towards enlightenment.” He then crossed his arms, studying your reactions. “Knowing that my people are well-cared for and saved in this manner brings me great satisfaction.”

As the tea kettle began to boil, Douma shifted his attention towards it and poured a cup of tea for you. “Aren’t you going to have a cup?” you asked, observing the steam rising from the small porcelain cup he had placed by your bedside. “Jun brought it; it’s quite good.”

He walked over to the kettle and unplugged it before taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “Thank you, but I don’t eat or drink in front of others,” he said, crossing his legs with a slight hum.

You furrowed your eyebrows, finding him quite unusual. “Why?” you asked. Your love of food made the idea of not eating or drinking in front of others seem extremely strange to you. A part of you wanted to keep asking questions, but you could feel his unease. You felt indebted to him and figured the least you could do was avoid bothering him to the point of being asked to leave. “You don’t have to answer that,” you quickly added.

He sighed. “Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head, dismissing your worry. “You’re so tense, it’s making me nervous just talking to you.”

You chuckled nervously, taking a sip of the tea and scalding your tongue in the process. “I’m sure you can understand why,” you managed to cough out, the hot liquid aggravating your already sore throat. “It’s not every day you wake up in a cult.”

“Is that what you think? That me and my people are a cult?”

Your eyes widened. Wasn’t his organization exactly that? In this era in Japan, cults weren’t necessarily a bad thing. Were they taboo? Yes. Did he seem to take it personally? Indeed, he did. You remained silent, only returning his gaze as your breathing quickened.

After a moment of intense staring, he broke the silence with a chuckle and a slap to his knee. “Relax!” He was now laughing heartily, his shoulders rising and falling with each burst of laughter. “I’m just surprised you came to that conclusion so quickly. You’re quite the sharp one, aren’t you?” He shook his head, and his face was rather serious. “But yes, we could be described as a cult. Nonetheless, my followers are happy to work towards Eternal Paradise.”

You visibly cringed.

Joining a cult was not on your bucket list. 

However, if joining a cult meant being fed, staying alive, and remaining safe until you could find a way back home (or remember where it even was), you were willing to make that compromise. As you set the tea back on the bedside table, survival was the only thing on your mind. Jun had assured you it was a safe place, and even though you hadn’t known her for long, you decided to trust her. The sight of people in the cafeteria, well-fed and clothed, some even with children, gave you some reassurance.

“Well, our conversation seems to have become rather tense,” he observed, rising from the bed to his full height. “Why don’t you try standing? I think a tour is in order.” He walked over to a closet in the corner of the room and pulled out two crutches. “Ah, these might come in handy, don’t you think?”

“What about the rest of the items?” You asked, glancing at the basket placed on the other side of the bed.

“I’m sure your nurse will be more than willing to assist you,” he said, moving closer to you on the bed and extending his free hand. “Here, let me help you.”

You studied his hand. 

It was even paler than his face, adorned with short, bluish nails that had a slight sheen. He was already pale, but his nails were so blue that you wondered if he was sick. With some hesitation, you accepted his hand, only to be taken aback by its icy touch. 

You gasped, both at the chill of his hand and the realization that you were now standing. As you wobbled slightly, your heart pounded in your chest. Instinctively, you reached up to touch his face, pressing your hands against his cheek and forehead and getting a grasp on how cold he really was.

“My God!” you exclaimed, unaware of the loudness of your voice. You let go of his hand, took a step back, picked up your hot teacup, and then took his hand again, pressing it against the cup. “You’re absolutely freezing! You really should drink some of this,” you insisted.

Douma’s eyes widened as you held his hand firmly against the warm cup. Could his pale skin and hair be signs of illness? “I think I remember something else,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows in deep thought, “Yes, I knew a few people who were ill as well.”

“Yes…” he trailed off, allowing you to touch his face with your warm hands. His gaze shifted slightly, avoiding direct eye contact. “I have a condition. A rather terrible disease. Not enough blood, you see?” His voice, unusually deep, faltered just a bit, adding an eeriness to the already tense atmosphere.

“Please, accept my apologies,” you murmured, your hands falling from his face as you shook your head, taking a step back. The past few hours have been a surreal experience for you. “Despite your own struggles, you saved me,” you began, your body bending in a deep bow, a symbol of your unwavering gratitude for the life he had saved. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Douma’s lips curled into a wide grin, a stark contrast to the somber mood, as he returned the cup to you. “Think nothing of it, Sunshine!” His voice was cheerful, a sudden shift that left you slightly unsettled. “Now, about that tour. If you’ll excuse me…”

He quickly walked over to the shoji doors, his feet making soft sounds on the floor. Upon opening them, he found Jun and Dr. Isha with their ears pressed against the door, clearly eavesdropping on your conversation. “Well, what a surprise!” he exclaimed, chuckling as he watched them stumble in surprise. “I must be going now. I trust you both will treat our guest with kindness, yes?”

“Please forgive us, Lord Douma,” Jun bowed, with Dr. Isha following suit. “We were just curious, that’s all.”

As Douma made his exit, he paused to whisper something in Dr. Isha’s ear. Then, he continued on his way, leaving you all in a state of surprise at his abrupt departure.

Then, the women entered the room.

Jun quickly moved to your side, gripping your upper arm to help you maintain balance as you stood. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face as you took tentative steps. “Isn’t she amazing? Even after an injury.”

Dr. Isha’s expression was hard to read, but a hint of anger was evident in her furrowed brows, causing wrinkles to form. “You must know something, girl,” she said, coming closer and supporting your other arm as you navigated the room. You paused when her grip tightened. “You seem too comfortable with the Lord Founder. What did you say to him? What made him leave the room so abruptly?” Her voice was almost a growl, her knuckles turning white as she held onto you.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” You hissed, rolling your shoulder in an attempt to get her off of you. “We just talked, that’s all.”

Finally, she released you, her expression still stern. “Do you want to know what he told me, Jun?” Her laughter was bitter, filled with sarcasm. “He said her room is in the Lotus Wing. What a joke!”

Your gaze shifted to Jun, whose eyes had widened in surprise. “The Lotus Wing?” She let out a disbelieving scoff, clearly taken aback. “That’s quite prestigious. You must have left a significant impression on Lord Douma.”

Confusion washed over you as you glanced between the two women. “…What is the Lotus Wing?”

Without acknowledging your question, Dr. Isha continued. “She’s been given the all-clear,” she declared, her hand waving dismissively in the air. “Jun, I’m entrusting her care to you. Ensure her needs are met, I’m sure it’ll be a rollercoaster. Good evening to both of you.” With that, she opened the doors and exited the room, leaving behind a resounding slam that echoed in the silence.

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Neither you nor Jun said anything as she tidied up the hospital room.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have anything to say, but rather, you were quite upset. Dr. Isha didn’t seem to like you at all, and you were starting to understand why.

You didn’t know the exact reason, but you guessed that her demotion from advisor was because of you. That’s why she didn’t like you. Maybe you were too casual with Lord Douma! Touching his face like that, what were you thinking? You had just met him, so why did it matter if he was cold? You should have just let him be and asked if he was alright.

You had a bad habit of getting involved with things you shouldn’t.

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Jun packed everything into a larger basket, leaving you to hold the smaller one that Douma had brought for you. You noticed she had brought a lot of soap, an oddly large amount. You decided to ask her about it later.

You were utterly ecstatic to finally leave the room you’d been confined in. With shaky hands, you slid open the doors, only to be met with another door. They certainly made it difficult to leave. You wondered just how much trouble you had caused. Upon opening the last door, you were greeted with the sounds of crickets and a beautiful garden.

“Wow,” you muttered, utterly astonished at the beauty of this place. “You weren’t kidding.”

Jun paused, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moon. She inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp night air filled with the subtle scent of flowering bushes that dotted the garden. ““This isn’t even the main part,” she chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched your reaction. “You’ll enjoy the Lotus Wing. It circles a private pond.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, intrigued. The idea of a private pond tucked away in the forest piqued your interest. You followed her as she started to walk at a leisurely pace, allowing you to fully absorb the surroundings. You looked up, noticing the towering trees adorned with blossoms. “Tell me more,” you requested.

She nodded, descending a small set of stairs. Extending her hand to you, you accepted it, and together you began to traverse a path on a hill. “Firstly, this is more of a private hospital wing. There are a few other facilities in that building,” she gestured in front of her. “See how the path diverges?”

You nodded, observing how the pea gravel path forked into two. One trail ascended while the other descended. “One leads to the main buildings, where the main lake is,” she said downhill, where a veil of mist obscured most of the landscape. “Up there, are the hot springs. That’s where the Lotus Wing is, along with a few other structures. The Lotus Wing is the most luxurious place to reside. I’ve only been there a few times, so I’m quite excited to be serving someone who lives there.”

You both began walking uphill, which quickly started to strain your leg. “How does Lord Douma manage this?” you asked, panting. Your coma had really taken a toll on you. “With his condition and all?”

Jun took the basket you were holding and placed it on top of hers. Balancing her basket on her hip, she linked arms with you to help you walk. “His condition?” She turned her head towards you, looking rather confused. “Ah, that. His Worship often rests. He isn’t typically seen during the day, and even then, we’ve all grown accustomed to his nocturnal schedule. The Gods have blessed him so much that it must be nature’s course to burden him with illness. Isn’t that sad?”

…Right. You thought back to how cold his hands were and how odd he seemed. He must be quite sick, you decided. “Anyway, how many people live in the Lotus Wing?”

She clicked her tongue as she thought about it. “Either eight or nine now that Dr. Isha got demoted.” You guys then reached a set of wooden stairs. “As nice as it is up the hill, it sure is a workout.”

“No kidding,” you gasped, placing your hands on your knees. “Eight or nine, huh? Are they more advisors? Doctors? Engineers?”

She nodded, patting your back as you caught your breath. “Something along those lines, yeah.” She then glanced around, as if checking if anyone was watching. “They’re not as harsh as Dr. Isha. Don’t tell her I said that.”

You chuckled. “Your secrets are safe with me, no worries.” The moonlight cast a beautiful glow on her blue kimono. “I’m assuming Douma also lives in the Lotus Wing?”

She winced at your words. “No. A bit past that,” she said, shaking her head. “However, you should address him more formally.”

“Why am I living there? Why did he put me there? I’m no advisor, I can’t even remember my hobbies or my own brother's face.”

“Hey,” she said in a soothing voice, rubbing your back once more. “It’s alright. He saved you personally, remember? I’m sure it’ll work out.”

You sighed. No choice but to push forward. “Alright.” You nodded, continuing your walk on the stairs.

After clearing the stairs, you found a short path leading to what looked like an enormous shrine. Bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, meticulously manicured Zen gardens flanked either side of the path, right where the rest of the stairs ended. Stone lanterns dotted the landscape, their orangish glow challenging the moonlight.

The shrine itself appeared ancient, with sweeping roofs and ornate carvings. It was quiet at the moment, but soft murmurs filled the air, along with the scent of incense. Without a doubt, you knew this was sacred ground.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered, aware of the people in the Zen Garden and the few praying to a rather large statue of Douma. Freaky, you thought. “The Lotus Wing is past the shrine, but there are a lot of members right now, so be mindful.”

You nodded hesitantly as you followed Jun. The white-clad wearers watched you in silence as you ascended the stairs and passed the shrine building. On another gravel path, Jun stopped right under a large tree. Pointing, she murmured, “There it is. Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Pretty” was an understatement. You could only see the entrance to the building, but even then, the pink hue of the building, along with its white slanted tile roof, was breathtaking. Moving forward, you and Jun finally entered.

The floor was made of dark wood, but like the exterior of the house, it held a subtle pink hue, as if reflecting the blush of a lotus blossom. 

The furniture was a different story. Each piece, crafted from the same dark wood, was meticulously carved for its purpose. The furniture pieces, whether they were tables, chairs, or cabinets, all shared a small crest of a lotus itched in the middle.

Following Jun down the hallway, you noticed doors spaced generously apart, each illuminated by the warm glow of a yellow lantern. The light from the lanterns cast long, dancing shadows on the wooden floor as you walked and shone beautifully along the white walls.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, a shoji door crested with a lotus, along with a neatly arranged place to remove and store your shoes. “This was Dr. Isha’s old room,” Jun said, slipping off her shoes with practiced ease. You followed suit, feeling the cool wood beneath your feet. “I assume this is where you’ll be staying,” she added, sliding the door open with gentle hands.

Your eyes widened with surprise.

Douma seemed to prefer Western-style beds, as evidenced by the ones in your room and at the hospital. Your bed had a large headboard made of intricately carved dark wood. A lotus crest was carved into the wood, its design the same throughout the Lotus Wing. A layer of bamboo on the same wall added a touch of nature, as did two nightstands placed near your bed. 

The room was floored with traditional tatami mats, their subtle fragrance filling the space. Despite the high ceilings, part of the room dipped into a cozy area furnished with a table and a few chairs. It looked like a small tearoom, complete with a small fire pit in the center. A long wire hung from the ceiling, holding an iron pot in the pit below. Beyond the tearoom, you could see closed shoji doors that certainly opened to reveal another space.

Never in your life have you seen a room this luxurious. 

With a sense of urgency and a flicker of excitement, you rushed to the shoji doors and slid them open. Your intuition was right. As the doors parted, you took in the imposing size of the walls separating each room. On either side of you, two large, dark walls shielded you from the view of the other rooms while also granting you a generous portion of the private pond that Jun had mentioned.

If you hadn’t been raised with manners, you might have stripped off your clothes and plunged straight into the inviting water. But then Jun’s sympathetic smile pulled you back to the harsh reality of your situation.

That’s right, you reminded yourself. 

You weren’t here on vacation or to celebrate some brazen achievement. You were here because you came dangerously close to meeting the reaper. The weight of that realization began to settle in, casting a pall over the beauty of your surroundings. 

The luxurious room, the private pond, the exquisite craftsmanship—all seemed to mock your predicament, serving as a somber reminder of the grim reason for your visit. Slowly but surely, the initial awe and excitement gave way to a creeping sense of despair. 

You lost a part of yourself.

A part of what made you, you. You would never be sure if you would remember what had happened to you or the important details of your life. You walked over to the bed and noticed that it was bare, but you still sat on the mattress. Your throat began to sting as your lip quivered with emotion.

You tried to take deep breaths, but all that came out were quick, shallow ones. Swiftly, Jun came to your side. “Deep breaths,” she advised. You focused on the sound of her voice as you began rolling up your kimono. Thank God, you thought, relieved that you hadn’t injured yourself walking here. “Why don’t we try making your bed, huh?”

You nodded, deciding to stand up and move to the tearoom. Tears began flowing freely, your chest heaving with sobs as your mind kept replaying the blurry faces of your loved ones. You were so unbelievably frustrated.

“I want to go home,” you cried, gripping the fabric of your kimono tightly. “I want to see my brother.”

Jun nodded empathetically, allowing you to voice your frustrations while she looked for sheets. “But I don’t even know where to begin looking,” you confessed. Pathetic whimpers escaped your lips as you stared at the clear water outside. The room grew rather cold. “My brother, he must be so scared. He was my twin, you know?”

Your face was blotchy red as she spread the pale pink sheets on the bed. You found yourself liking the pink theme. It was unique. “My brother was a difficult child, you see?” You hiccupped, and your crying subsided slightly as you began to recall faint memories of your childhood. “He was a horrible kid. Really. I was calm in comparison to him but..."

The sobs started again and grew louder. “He was too much. My parents sent him off to live with the village leader, but he refused to go because my parents didn’t want to send me.” This happened years ago; why did the pain feel so fresh? “So they abandoned both of us.”

Your crying became uncontrollable as you curled up on the tatami mat. “Shhhh.” Jun dropped the sheets and sat down next to you. “What you’re going through is extremely traumatic. Difficult, emotionally pressing memories will always take priority over more joyful ones.”

That didn’t comfort you. Were you going to be stuck living the rest of your life like this? Is your trauma resurfacing because of your injury? You couldn’t help but wonder. “Why don’t I go get another doctor?”

You nodded. 

If they knew something, anything, that could relieve the extreme distress you suddenly found yourself in, you would be grateful. You stood up, watching as Jun hurriedly made your bed before tucking you in. 

You fell asleep rather quickly.

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You awoke sometime later, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows as it peeked in through your now closed outdoor shoji. You felt surprisingly well-rested, your body rejuvenated from the deep sleep. Stretching slightly, you took a moment to take in your surroundings. A meal had been quietly brought inside and laid upon the table in the tearoom, the dishes neatly arranged and waiting for you.

Just how long have you slept? The question lingered in your mind as you tried to piece together the events of the past day. The last thing you remembered was having an emotional outburst and Jun saying she was going to get the doctor. But now, Jun was nowhere to be seen. Looking around, you got up, your leg slightly sore from the unfamiliar bedding, only to jump back at the sight of a man sitting on a chair directly next to you.

“Jesus!” You yelled, your hand instinctively flying to your chest as your heart pounded against your ribcage. “Who are you?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and he began flapping his hands around, almost like he was trying to explain himself without talking. You watched him, confusion etched on your face, as he began to make noises.

“I, I, I-” His words were garbled, more like random noises than coherent speech. But you managed to catch the repeated ‘I’.

“I?” You echoed, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Why are you here?”

He shook his head, frustration evident in his features. Then, he opened his mouth and pointed at what little was left of his tongue. You gasped and instinctively moved closer to the man. “My goodness, your tongue!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the sight. His tongue had large chunks missing, but despite his condition, he seemed desperate to get you to understand him.

He then pointed at himself and gave a thumbs up, as if to reassure you that he was okay. You felt yourself relax. “I’m guessing Jun went to sleep?” He nodded in response. Then, you took notice of his attire. Just like Jun, the man was dressed in blue. Could he be a nurse, perhaps? “Why don’t we find some paper so you can write?”

He nodded, his long hair shaking with each vigorous nod. “Very well.” You got out of bed and began making it, but he dismissed you with a wave of his hand and took over the task himself. “I don’t think there’s any paper in this room, so why don’t we check the common room?”

He nodded in agreement as you excused yourself and headed to the bathroom. As you shut the door behind you, you were finally alone with your thoughts and your reflection. The bathroom was equipped with a closet, and a rather long mirror stretched across one wall, reflecting back an image of someone who seemed almost unrecognizable.

You were skinny.

Your mind flashed with a brief, haunting image of how you used to look, and a wave of nausea washed over you. You remembered a time when your body was strong and muscular, but now all that remained were frail arms that seemed pitifully weak. As you stripped out of your kimono, a gasp escaped your lips.

Scars, like a constellation of past battles, dotted your body. Some were fresh, while others were old and faded, their stories long forgotten. But what caught your attention the most were your hands. You remembered how they used to be—tough, calloused, bearing the evidence of hours and hours of hard labor. But for what? What kind of work had you done that had left your body scarred and your hands hardened?

Thinking about it was pointless.

It was just going to upset you.

So, you rummaged through the closet, dressed into a silken gray kimono that you were sure that Jun left behind, and got ready for the day. Meeting the man back in your room, he greeted you with a pithy smile and a bow.

“There’s no need to be so formal, sir,” you said, your hand cutting through the air in a dismissive gesture. His stiffness seemed out of place in the relaxed atmosphere of the room. “Shall we proceed?”

He turned his attention to the tea table, where a meal had been carefully arranged. Despite the enticing aroma wafting from the dishes, you didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry. At least, not yet. “Let’s find some paper for you and take a little walk, shall we?”

In response, he extended his arm towards you, making a silent offer of support. You accepted gratefully, your thoughts turning sour at the prospect of navigating those damn stairs. With a courteous nod, he opened the door for both of you, and you made your way towards the common area.

You began thinking about Douma as you opened the various cabinets and desks. Was he the one who sent you this man? What had happened to his mouth in the first place? It was rather unsettling.

Finding a sheet of parchment and a rather fancy fountain pen, you handed them to the man. “Why don’t you tell me your name?” He began writing. My name is Haji. 

You smiled at him. “Hello, Haji.” You quickly told him your name.

Jun and I will be taking turns, watching over you in shifts. Day and night, one of us will always be there,

Your condition, your situation, it’s been relayed to the doctors. They’re aware. Our leader, too, has been informed.

That was rather unsettling, you thought. You gave him a kind smile disregardless. He stilled for a moment, looking around, before he started writing again.

I was there with you that night.

His writing sent a chill down your spine. He was there? A flurry of questions swirled in your mind, each one more pressing than the last. How was he there? What did he see? What did he know? 

“How?”

The sudden opening of the building’s doors seemed to startle him. In a swift, almost reflexive motion, he crumbled up the paper. It happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that you blinked in surprise. Before you could even react, he shoved the crumpled paper into his mouth, swallowing it as if it were nothing more than a piece of candy. The action was so bizarre and out of place that for a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

Two men, both clad in red, approached you and Haji. “Ah, our guest!” They bowed to you in unison, their faces lighting up with a warm welcome. Their gaze then shifted to Haji, their enthusiasm dimming noticeably. “And Haji.”

Haji gave you a silent, pleading look as you began conversing with the two men. You decided to keep his secret. What he had confided in you would remain confidential until you died. You couldn’t help but think that he might be more useful in uncovering the full extent of what had transpired compared to Douma.

You learned that the two men were also twins, fraternal ones, just like you and your brother. Their names were Kuro and Hachiro, and they were the architects who had designed the cult. However, their stay was brief, and they departed as quickly as they had arrived.

“There’s more to this place, isn’t there?”

He nodded.

Shit.

[perseidlion]

After 43k and several months, this fic is now complete!

Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cat King/Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Niko Sasaki, Cat King & Monty (Dead Boy Detectives), Monty (Dead Boy Detectives) & Charles Rowland (DCU), Monty (Dead Boy Detectives)/Charles Rowland (DCU) Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU), Cat King (Dead Boy Detectives), Crystal Palace (DCU), Night Nurse (DCU), Niko Sasaki, Monty (Dead Boy Detectives), Tragic Mick (Dead Boy Detectives) Additional Tags: Mystery, Afterlife, Case Fic, Cat King Loves Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Touch-Starved Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland (DCU), Niko Sasaki Lives, Post-Canon, Sequel, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mutual Pining, Touch-Starved Charles Rowland (DCU), Magic, Jealous Charles Rowland (DCU), POV Alternating, POV Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, POV Charles Rowland (DCU), POV Cat King (Dead Boy Detectives), Bisexual Male Character Series: Part 3 of The Ballad of Edwin and Cat - Catwin Continity, Part 4 of Perseid_Lion's Dead Boy Detectives Summary:

It's been a few months since Edwin, Charles and Crystal left Port Townsend after the death of their friend Niko. They've done their best to move on. In the meantime, they've matched wits with Desire of the Endless, and Edwin has started dating the Cat King.

Cat's gift of a spirit mirror offers the boys a chance to speak to Niko again - if she is indeed on the other side.

--- This is a sequel to my fic, Cat and Ghost (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55914973/chapters/141986386) though you don't have to read that one to follow this story! I do my best to catch you up in chapter 1.

Continuity note: the short fic, The Human Bargain takes place between Cat and Ghost and this fic. But again, it's not strictly necessary to read it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56889706

[snarky-magpie]

I'm being nosy again. This one is for all the readers, and please, feel free to expand on your opinions!

[okapi-jones]

😈 what is dark within me, illumine 😈

🔥RELAUNCHED FIC ALERT🔥

what is dark within me, illumine

A #Reylo divine rom-comedy.

OR: funny until it’s emotionally devastating (feels on brand)

🜘 Demon-Summoning Modern AU 🜛 Also an Office / Historical AU (yes, really. you’ll see.) 🜁 Multi-chapter / Long Fic WIP 🜂 Demon Ben with a mysterious past 🜃 Disillusioned human tech-worker Rey 🜄 Forced Proximity 🜘 Failed Soul Contracts 🜁 Bibliomancy 🜂 Humor and Romance and Angst and Fluff 🜃 Fish Out of Water / Man Out of Time 🜄 Existential Crises 🜁 Weird forays into surrealist imagery 🜂 Literary references. SO MANY LITERARY REFERENCES 🜾 Eventual Smut 🜡 Eventual HEA (Always. Promise. 🤍)

Art by the incredible @cndcrd!

———🜘———

I finally did it! After 9 months of hiatus, WE’RE BACK with demon!Ben and grumpy!Rey.

All six existing chapters on AO3 have been completely revised - and I’ve just posted the seventh, my first update since October.

I expect I’ll be working on this one for the rest of the year, if not longer. She’s CHONKY. She’s THICC. She’s going places I don’t think most people will expect. And I’m so excited to be working on her again.

I sincerely hope you’ll join me and keep me company along the way.

Revised summary below!

———🜘———

Five years after Rey graduated from college, she’s living the millennial dream: stressed, depressed, in debt, and working for a soulless social media tech giant. When she finally decides to throw away her dreams for good, a treasure from her past accidentally summons something she never expected: a monstrous demon straight from Hell.

A demon who might just be her salvation.

———🜘———

A Reylo divine rom-comedy, a.k.a: the modern/demon/office/literary/historical AU slow burn epic mishmash fic of my dreams - with a twist.

Come for the genre-bending and humor, stay for the philosophizing, non-standard demon lore, and eventual [ready-or-knot] monsterfucking. I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of demon anatomy.

(Except when I do.)

Read it here on AO3!

[veritas-scribblings]

Sacrosanct

RATING: Mature

WORDS: 6,324

STATUS: One-shot, Complete

SUMMARY: Barty Crouch Junior is eleven when he first meets Regulus Black. He’s twelve when he launches a campaign of terror against a fellow classmate in the name of his found family. He’s fifteen when he confuses love for Regulus with sex with Regulus and ends up all tied in metaphorical knots. He’s eighteen when he joins the Death Eaters and falls in love with Evan Rosier. He’s nineteen when his world starts falling apart and he’s twenty when his world stops altogether.

Or, the story of Barty, Evan and Regulus’s co-dependency seen through Barty’s eyes.

~*~

Barty Crouch Junior is eleven when he speaks to Regulus for the first time. They don’t meet on the train on the way to Hogwarts, because Regulus is already surrounded by people. They don’t even meet at the Sorting. They avoid each other in their dormitory. They’re in different social circles (not that Barty has one). It is in potions class, when they’re paired together to brew a hair-raising potion, that they speak for the first time. 

Regulus is quiet. Clever. Studious to the point of hilarity. Dry-witted and acerbic. Barty just loves Regulus’s wicked, acid tongue and immediately decides that they’re going to be friends. 

He leads with this, ‘You’re my best friend now,’ and receives nothing more than the blankest of stares, like the boy before him simply cannot fathom the words that are coming out of his mouth.

[onwards to ao3]

[drowning-in-greed]

AO3 Tag Roulette Writing Challenge: October 2023

The below list was compiled using the AO3 Tag Roulette random generator and will provide you with five tags from Archive of Our Own (AO3). Your task is to write a story using all of them. Anything goes with Tag Roulette - from romantic to fantasy to just downright weird, you never know where the tags will take you.

Remember, you can do as much or as little with each tag as you like, and you're not limited to those tags alone. Get creative with it, and make the tags work for you. The goal of this challenge is to inspire you to write, so don't be afraid to take the tags in a direction that feels right for you.

[starsmacabray]

everyone is so excited about their spotify wrapped this year but i think an AO3 wrapped could cause riots

how many millions of words of fanfic did you read this year? your favorite author? most read microtrope? what percentile of smut reader are you? i bet it’s high

you could learn so much about a person based off a single screenshot. forget your favorite song show me your dark side

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

Chapter 22: Hide & Seek

He turned in enough time to see a small figure darting towards the door. Fizz’s response was automatic. His arm extended and wrapped around the figure, pulling it back towards him.

“The hospital was on lockdown because a little boy went missing.” Fizzarolli started. “I threatened a security officer and played hide and seek but I found him. It was Oliver, Ozzie. I found him and it was that boy from the pageant.”

[annestie]

Outcasted - Chapter 1

Summary: At sixteen, Neteyam has completed his iknimaya and is considered an adult. He's a warrior, finally allowed on the battlefield. The war is going well. Perfectly on the path for them to win once again, something Neteyam is excited to be there for. Until, he's outcasted by his own father.

Neteyam's forced pick up what is left of his life and leave. Never allowed to step foot into his home again, he goes to first place he thinks of. Awa'atlu. Hopeful that his past there will make settling and adjusting easier.

Pairing: Ao'nung x Neteyam

Word Count So Far: 2114

Notes: Hello! I've had this one in my drafts for a while and I finally figured I would post it. I always do my best to explain within the fic but this is an AU where the Sully's never left the forest and Quaritch hasn't been recommed. I just want this clear because it won't make sense within the fic if either of those have happened. It's kind of hard to mention something not happening. Anyways, enjoy!

Neteyam desperately holds onto his ikran’s reigns. He feels foolish for wanting to cry. This was for the best; he tries to reason with himself. But was it really? Does that matter now? It still stung to think about, so he doesn’t, instead focusing on the flight and the things his ikran is feeling. He’s sixteen and considered an adult, he shouldn’t be crying.

He lands on the beaches of Awa’atlu hours later. Neteyam had been here only twice before. He was with Jake, some training thing for when he became the Olo’eyktan. For when he would have become the Olo’eyktan, Neteyam reminds himself, not anymore. He held no future now, no clan even.

Stepping off his ikran, the warm sand feels the same as before. It was probably past midday now by the light still left in the sky. A crowd quickly forms around Neteyam, probably from the sound of the conch he heard earlier. The same had happened when he first visited.

Through the crowd the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk step towards him. Despite it having been four years, they look the same. That could not be said about Neteyam though his resemblance to his mother is uncanny and he can tell they recognize him on that fact.

“Eldest son of Toruk Makto,” the Tsahìk speaks, her voice still the same. By the mention of his Jake's name, there’s murmurs around the crowd. “What are you doing here?” she asks pointedly at him. It’s unspoken but she’s asking why he’s here alone. Neteyam had never come alone. Even with his parents, he had only come twice before.

Neteyam signs the traditional greeting before he begins explaining. “I seek uturu,” he tells as he had rehearsed on the flight. He tries to show the desperation in his voice. Regardless of all the lessons his parents gave him to never show weakness, that’s all he feels right now. The Tsahìk’s and Olo’eyktan’s eyes widen

“Why do you need uturu from us? Would it not be better to stay with your family?” the Olo’eyktan questions him. That would be true if Neteyam were running from the humans, but he wasn’t running from them.

“I can’t go back,” Neteyam stresses. “I’ve been outcasted from my clan.” That still hurt to say even it is true. There’s the murmurs in the crowd again, how could he, Toruk Makto’s son, be outcasted. He thought the same thing too when it happened.

“Your body is not fit for the ocean,” the Tsahìk tells him but he can tell there’s sympathy in her eyes. “Your arms are thin, and your tail is skinny,” the Tsahìk names off. She could go on longer but mercifully stops at those.

“Please, I have nowhere else to go. I will learn your ways,” Neteyam promises and pleads. The next place he could think of going was at least a day’s trip away and, even then, he had worse chances with them. “I just want somewhere to stay, please.”

The Tsahìk’s gaze softens as she looks at him. Her face almost stoic besides her eyes.  She turns to the Olo’eyktan for his final judgement.

“You may stay but so that you do not suffer the shame of being useless, my son and daughter will help you learn the way of water.” The Olo’eyktan points to a boy about his height and a girl that’s Neteyam’s height. The boy’s name comes to Neteyam’s mind almost immediately. Ao’nung. They had met on Neteyam’s last visit and, surprisingly, became friends, fast.

Ao’nung looks different now. They used to be same height, Ao’nung definitely has half a head over him now. Tattoos also decorate his arms; they travel up to his face where they cover half of it.  If Neteyam remembers right, it means Ao’nung has completed his rite of passage. Which doesn’t surprise Neteyam much, it’s been four years. He wishes they could have seen each other under better circumstances.

“Thank you,” Neteyam says gratefully to both the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk.

The Olo’eyktan’s mouth lifts slightly before looking at his children. He quickly whispers something to them and then walks away. The girl, Tsireya, Neteyam finally remembers her name, and Ao’nung come towards him.

“We will help you with your stuff to your marui,” Tsireya tells him with a smile. Neteyam had never actually met her before though Ao’nung had told him some things, years ago. She should be around Lo’ak’s age.

Neteyam quickly grabs his one bag from his ikran’s back. He slings it over his shoulder before taking off his ikran’s saddle, allowing her to travel into the forest of Awa’atlu. “I’ll see you soon,” he tells her before she leaves. He wouldn’t need her here, at least not while he adjusted to this new life. Ao’nung carries the saddle for him.

“Is that all?” Tsireya asks with surprise.

“This was all I could take before I had to leave,” Neteyam explains. It was barely anything. A few of his handmade necklaces, some loincloths, his bow, and dried meat he managed to grab before leaving. Besides those and the things he’s wearing, he has nothing from before.

“Oh, I see,” Tsireya says with pity in her voice. Neteyam isn’t fond of it. He hates feeling like he’s useless, but he is. He has no skills that matter in Awa’atlu.

Neteyam follows Tsireya across the bouncy paths that connected the maruis, those would take some time to get used to. Ao’nung walks beside him. Neteyam doesn’t mind it.

“Neteyam?” Ao’nung suddenly says. Neteyam turns to him confused. “Sorry, I remember your last visit,” he tells. It’s weird how mature Ao’nung’s acting, nothing like his twelve-year-old self.

“I remember you as well, Ao’nung,” Neteyam says with the best smile he can muster. He does want to smile but at the same time he wants to sit down and rest. Maybe let the tears fall from his eyes.

Once they arrive at Neteyam’s new marui, it’s empty besides a place to cook in the middle. It’s quiet and he can’t help the feeling of loneliness that creeps within him. If Tuk were here now, she would already be planning on how to decorate before choosing her sleeping corner and then somehow convincing Neteyam to sleep beside her.

Neteyam wonders how she’s doing now. It’s only been a day. She was crying when he left, refusing to let him go and trying to convince Jake to allow him to stay. But the choice had been made up and he couldn’t stay, no matter who pleaded.

“I hope this is alright, I imagine this is quite different to where you lived before,” Tsireya says, bringing Neteyam from his thoughts.

“Oh, this is fine,” Neteyam assures her. The marui itself is fine, he couldn’t care less about where he lived but he did worry for his siblings. The war is still raging and the fact that he’s been outcasted means he can’t help anymore, not even step foot in his old clan.

He wonders if Spider and Lo’ak are up to no good right now. They probably are, he tells himself. Would Jake be harder on them now that Neteyam wasn’t there to take the blame? He hopes not, even if that’s unlikely.

Neteyam drops his bag to ground and takes the saddle from Ao’nung from which it also ends up on the ground. “Thank you for your help,” he tells them both.

Tsireya smiles at him once again. “It’s no problem. I hope you settle in quickly.” Neteyam hopes so as well. She leaves the marui soon after, stating she had tsakarem duties to attend to.

Ao’nung stays behind for a little, lingering by the entrance. Neteyam watches him with confusion. “Is there anything else I need to attend to?” Neteyam asks as he steps towards Ao’nung.

Ao’nung shakes him head in response. “No, I just wanted to ask if it would be alright if I delivered you dinner tonight?” he asks.

The question catches Neteyam off guard. “Oh,” Neteyam blurts out. He doesn’t want to seem rude, but does he really seem that useless that he couldn’t hunt for himself? That thought truly cuts him deep, he really had no skills for the ocean.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding, you’ve spent the day traveling and I figured… You know what? Forget it-”

“That would be appreciated,” Neteyam cuts him off. Ao’nung’s explanation relieves Neteyam a little. “I’m quite tired from my journey,” he admits. At least, Neteyam’s still on Ao’nung’s good side. 

“No problem. I’ll come around the eclipse.” Ao’nung turns away at this point.

“Ao’nung,” Neteyam calls out his name before he can start walking. The other turns his head to him. “It’s good seeing you again.”

“You too.”

Neteyam closes the curtains to the entrance of the marui just as Ao’nung leaves. The sun seeming too bright and the people too nosy. He could see every person that walked by sending him a look.

Taking in a deep breath of salty air, Neteyam leans against the wall before sliding down. He brings his knees close to his chest and wraps his arms around them. Then a tear falls from his eye and that spurs another and another. Before he knows it, he’s crying onto his knees.

He doesn’t make a sound. Neteyam can’t let anymore weakness show through.

Eventually, his tears soon dry. Neteyam remembers Jake’s words that crying was pointless and that action is better. That memory used to bring him courage, lift him when his spirits were down, now it’s only bitter to think about.

Neteyam lifts his head to look at the slightly darkened marui. The only light coming from the ceiling and small window. The place feels more like a house than a home. Dark and empty. His eyes drift towards his bag and the saddle tossed to the side.

All that he owns is now within this marui.

Neteyam does unpack. He finds a box in a corner of the marui that he uses to store his jewelry and clothing. At the bottom of the box, he puts him cumberband. It means nothing here anyways and would only slow him in the water. The sooner he could acclimate to this clan, the better.

He hangs his ikran’s saddle on the wall, not wanting it to stay on the ground even if he wouldn’t be using it much. Neteyam does the same for his bow and arrows though that’s more for easy access to them if he wants to hunt.

There’s just enough wood in the fire pit to start a new fire but Neteyam’s sure he would need to gather more in the morning.

Before long, there’s a knock that the entrance. Neteyam pulls open the curtain to reveal Ao’nung standing there with two plates in his hands.

“I hope you don’t mind if I eat with you.”

Neteyam doesn’t. It would be nice to think about something else for a change. For the past few hours, all he could think about was his siblings. He could use a distraction.

They sit to eat in silence. However, Neteyam doesn’t mind it, it’s nice to simply just be in another’s company after everything.

Neteyam looks over his plate. The plate has a slice of fish, some seaweed thing that’s slimy, and clams. He immediately smiles upon seeing the clams. “I remember eating these when I visited,” Neteyam comments.

“They don’t serve them often and I know you liked them before, so I grabbed some extra,” Ao’nung tells him.

Neteyam lets out a small laugh, the first time he’s laughed since he left. “You remembered.”

“It’s hard to forget you.”

They don’t speak much more than that. Neteyam likes it, he couldn’t imagine trying to keep up with an entire conversation. Ao’nung’s presence seems like enough. They could catch up another time.

Once they’re done, Neteyam walks Ao’nung to the entrance. Neteyam smiles as he hands Ao’nung the plate. Ao’nung takes it, his eyes lingering on Neteyam’s arms. Neteyam looks down to see the cuts and scrapes he had gotten when he left, he had almost forgotten about them, they seemed so insignificant compared to everything else.

He was in such a rush, he simply flew through the trees, not thinking. He got pretty scratched up by the branches. Most of the cuts had healed through the day, but definitely looked worse than they actually were and wouldn’t be very nice in the sea water.

Ao’nung swallows, looking away from Neteyam’s arms. “Dinner is always held when the eclipse starts, and I’ll show you where tomorrow. I’ll come in the morning, early, to get you for your lessons. Have a good night.”

“You as well.”

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