#fic rankings

[ceridwyn2]

Tagged by @pers-books

Rules: List your “top 10” (or up to 10 if you haven’t written that many) fics ranked by kudos on AO3. Are you surprised by what’s most popular to your readers? Then, under a cut, provide your ranking of your personal top 10 fics (with explanations if you want!), and then tag a few fellow writers!

So, I’ve just got 10 stories posted to AO3 so here they are. Some are for rare-pairings and older tv shows or films, so most don’t have many kudos at all, so if you happen to be keen to read them & like them, drop a kudos & a comment. I’ve put my personal rankings in front of the stories.

*2 - Words of Meaning 17445 words; incomplete) - Holby City (Bernie Wolfe / Serena Campbell) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/9709112 - 185 kudos

*4 - Freedom (1669 words, complete) - Bad Girls (Nikki Wade / Helen Stewart) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/8624221 - 32 kudos

*3 - Someone to Remember Us (2485 words, complete) - Bad Girls (Nikki/ Helen) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644383 - 25 kudos

*1 - A Retreat of Truths (14081 words, complete) - Spooks (Harry Pearce / Ruth Evershed) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602573 - 23 kudos

*6 - Seeking Comfort (1419 words, complete) - Fried Green Tomatoes (Ruth / Idgie) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640474 - 19 kudos

*5 - Not the Brightest Idea (1617 words, complete) - Bad Girls (Nikki Wade / Helen Stewart - https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603392 - 12 kudos

*9 - Bad Girls Song Drabbles (1062 words, complete) - Bad Girls (mostly Nikki / Helen) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622838 - 8 kudos

*8 - An Unexpected Conversation (2886 words, complete) - Battlestar Galactica (Laura Roslin / Natalie Six) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31305098 - 6 kudos

*7 - Finding One’s Way (1208 words, complete) - Wire in the Blood (Paula McIntyre / Chris Devine) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31304909 - 2 kudos

*10 - Journey of Self Discovery (1031 words, complete) - The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643138 - 1 kudos

Tagging: @thegirl20 @heartsways @darkshines1984 @ncruuk @serenacampbell @closingdoorsfanfic @absedarian @jmflowers @dinovia-grant plus anyone else who wants to give it a go.

[cowboylikeyouu]

there’s 90 worst wolverine/deadpool fics on ao3 so far and i‘m pretty sure half of them are just wade and logan fucking in that car, and i think that’s beautiful.

[transingthoseformers]

Tfa fics where Optimus becomes a decepticon are always interesting, because I've seen a few fics that are just the decepticons finding out the autobots suck ass and go like "fuck that he's ours now, we're gonna treat him right" and those are amazing

Like it's just

[hoejosatoru]

A quick lil Hantengu/Karaku pussy eating smut bc I need him bad 🧍🏻‍♀️(you could apply this to any of the clones tbh you do you)

Warnings: pussy eating, degradation, not non con but reader is a little scared at first, squirting,a demon is eating your pussy idk what else to tell you. This might be the nasty pussy eating fic I’ve ever written MDNI

You knew the second you saw a humanoid shape moving in the shadows you were fucked. Taking this short cut home through woods had always been a risk and your luck had run out. You knew it was demon before he even stepped out into the moonlight by the ways the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Well, what do we have here?” A sickly sweet voice asked. The demon stepped out from the shadows, tall, muscular and horned. You’d never seen a demon before in real life. You weren’t a slayer, just another villager. There was instinctually fear in having this predator before you, but something else just below the surface. He was… alluring. Handsome when he should be grotesque. You felt sick in the head for thinking so.

The demon was suddenly before you, stunning you with his speed. “You’re a shy thing, are you?” He was walked around your body, sizing you up. Your hear hammered in your chest. He licked his lips. “The pretty ones always are.”

When you looked in his eyes, your blood went cold. His pupils read “upper rank 4.” Even with you limited knowledge of demons, you knew an upper rank was the most dangerous of them all. Your body shook with fear. “Please don’t hurt me,” you blurted out helplessly.

Surprisingly, he chuckled. “Who said I wanted to hurt you?” You flinched slight as he ran a finger along your cheek. “Pretty thing like you would be a waste to kill.” He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Besides, I’m hungry for something else tonight.”

Your body shivered, though for an entirely different reason. It felt so wrong to respond to a demon in this way. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

In a flash you were on the ground, the demon on top of you. “P-please don’t!” You cried. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do to you, though the look in his eyes gave you a hint.

“Told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he kicked a stripe up your neck, making you gasp. His hands were pinning down your wrist to stop you from squirming - though you weren’t putting up much of a fight. “I’m going to make you feel good. Pleasure you.”

He stuck his tongue out again and you caught a glimpse of the kanji for “pleasure” tattooed on it. Heat pooled between your legs at the sinful sight. “B-but you’re a demon. It’s wrong.” You stumbled over your words as he sucked at your neck, right over your jugular.

He let out a dry laugh. “Don’t act like you’re not aroused, I can smell it from here.” Your face went bright red, which only made him laugh more. “You humans, so virtuous.” His hands were between your legs, rubbing at your throbbing core over your underwear. “I’m going to devour you.”

You gasped as he ripped your underwear off, exposing your pussy to the his eyes and the cold night air. He was no longer holding you down but you did run from him. Not just because it was pointless, but because, fuck, your pussy was aching and you wanted him to fix it. You were sick with shame and desire.

“My name is Karaku,” the demon said, slotting himself between your legs, “I want to hear you scream it when you cum on my tongue.” You bit your lip, watching him with anxious anticipation. He licked a stripe up your pussy, letting your arousal coat his tongue. “Mmm, fucking soaked. And all for a demon? You’re not as innocent as you act.”

He did just a he said: he devoured you. His mouth moved against with speed and force that you didn’t even know was possible. Well, maybe it wasn’t for human men, but for him it was. He sucked hard on your clit, before grazing his teeth over it, loving how your whole body jumped.

Karaku pressed his tongue into your tight, sopping pussy. He wriggled his tongue inside you and it was the most sinful and pleasurable thing you ever felt. “Fuck,” you whined as he pulled away. He watched your pussy clench around nothing, driving him wild.

“Pussy fucking begging for me. What a dirty girl you are,” he purred. His hands dug into your plush thigh to keep you spread open for him. His nails threatening to cut your skin.

His mouth returned to your wet heat, though less intensely. He wanted to drag it out, to tease you. He circled his tongue around your hole, never dipped in like he knew you wanted. He switched between teasing your hole and sucking on your click, turning you into a whimpering miss.

“Please!” You cried, your need damn near painful. Your whole body was pulsing for him, you didn’t even care how wrong it was. The demon just laughed at you. You were desire over-rid your fear. You went to grip his hair, but your hands wrapped around the solid horns on his forehead instead. You used the grip as leverage grinding into his face.

Karaku let out a deep, feral moan. “Look at you fucking my face. A demons face. You’re sick for wanting me. Nasty fuckin’ slut,” his words were so dirty, but laced with desire. It only made you more desperate for release.

Karaku could easily have stopped you from fucking his face, but he didn’t want to. He loved being buried in your pussy, his tongue fucking you, tasting you. You were sweeter than most humans.

“Karaku,” you whimpered as you bucked your hips against his face. Your were so close; each time his nose nudged your clit pleasure pulsed through you.

“That’s it. Cum on my fucking tongue,” he demanded. He pressed his tongue impossibly deeper into you.

“Karaku fuck!” You cried out as the coil in your stomach snapped. The pleasure you felt was white-hot, more intense than anything you’d ever felt. You squirmed and moaned as he licked you through your orgasm. You were gasping, tearing in your eyes. It was so good it almost hurt.

His tongue flicked relentlessly over your overly sensitive clit. Suddenly your body shuddered, overcome by another wave of ecstasy as you squirted all over his face.

“Oh, fuck you’re dirty,” karaku purred, lapping up every last bit of your release. He finally pulled away, his face glistening with your release in the moonlight. As you caught your breath and came down from your high, fear and shame crept back in. What did you just do?

You tried to scramble away, but Karaku grabbed you by the ankle, pulling you back to him. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere. I’m taking you back to my brothers and we are going to have some fun.”

[wallabywhump]

Post Episode 8x08 CODA/Continuation

Content: Light angst, Buck spiralling, Buck's abandonment issues/running thoughts/(has ADHD), BuckTommy hints at the end.

Word Count: 1,965

Started writing this when the episode ended, please enjoy!

---

The sign goes out front of Eddie's house two weeks later, Buck helps to dig the hole. Buck helps talk to the realtor. Buck talks Eddie down from a three-bed home with an attic office in a HOA suburb and helps him find a respectably sized two bed that will leave him with money to renovate the bathroom and add a ramp up to the door.

Buck bakes a million cookies and eats them while Eddie has meetings with realtors. He sets out sweet breads and muffins when Eddie has an open house, and he happily serves them to people, "yes, there is a gluten free option! I was playing around with xanthan gum, so it shouldn't- oh, you're too kind."

All through it all, Buck focuses on Eddie, and he tries to ignore the ball of panic that's growing and growing and growing, as Eddie calls his mom and dad, and talks to Chris, and they're discussing going to view the home together and-

"I'll be there in two days, buddy!" Eddie says to Chris, a smile wide on his face while he put the autographed picture of the Hotshots cast into a wallet to keep it safe. "I can't wait to see you; we can talk without it lagging."

Buck takes a deep breath.

"Buck's not coming, LA won't survive if we both are off work."

Buck takes the butter off the heat, starts mixing in the sugar.

"I was talking it over with Grandpa, and we can go to the aquarium while I'm there. I'll even get to cheer you on in your chess match."

Chris groans. "You don't cheer during chess matches, dad, you have to be quiet."

Eddie laughs, and Buck needs to savor that sound. Needs to bottle up the sound of his best friend, and the kid he loves to the moon and back, teasing each other because he doesn't know how long he'll have this for. "Well, okay, you'll just have to teach me what to do, Mijo. I've never been to a chess match before."

The flour comes out of the microwave and Buck mixes that in, the soothing fold-fold-fold making his raging heart beat easier to ignore.

"You've never played chess before," Chris teases.

Buck spares a glance at Eddie, and he's fondly smiling at the tablet, and he says, "Well, you'll have to teach that too. Need to understand how you're winning, kid."

Buck is trying his best to be happy for Eddie, desperately putting his issues to the side, he hasn't even mentioned Tommy with all the baking he's been doing.

Eddie, graciously, hasn't mentioned how Buck has gone back to how he was the exact week after Tommy dumped him.

Or perhaps Eddie hasn't noticed with all the preparation and the legal jargon and clearing out everything to make the house look pretty for viewings, and Buck-

Buck really wants to talk to someone.

Eddie's leaving, Bobby is busy building a house, Hen, Maddie, Chimney-

Everyone's moving forward towards something happier. And Buck's stuck trying not to tie his best friend to a city with his sad puppy dog eyes and a pout, all while missing his ex so much that focusing on Eddie leaving drowns out that pain and fills it with something different.

"Buck?"

Buck jumps, dropping his spatula into the bowl. "Huh? W-What's-"

"Chris hung up, he's got school tomorrow."

Buck picks his spatula up, continues mixing his cookie dough. It's as he folds a third time that he notices he forgot the chocolate chips.

"More cookies?"

Buck forces a smile on his face, ignores the floundering puttering in his heart that tells him he needs to call someone before this becomes unsustainable. Baking isn't distracting him, it's not-

He wants Eddie to stay, he wants Chris to come home, he wants a barbecue in Bobby's backyard with his family-

He wants to call Tommy.

"It's for the viewing tomorrow," Buck says, proud of how even his voice sounds, how it doesn't even sound like a lie.

Eddie sidles up to the counter, looking into the bowl. "You don't have to try buttering up potential buyers with sugary goods. I know you set a precedent for the first one, but I don't want you to feel like you have to."

Buck puts the bowl and spatula down and bumps his hip into Eddie's as he starts greasing up the pan. "If I sweeten them up, maybe they'll actually buy, and you can leave quicker."

The free-sounding tease is easy, it's easy to fake, it's been easy to fake since that day he picked up the tablet and saw the houses. It's been easy to fake since Tommy dumped him, and he had to crawl out of his home and go to work and look somewhat put together, so no-one was scared on their calls. It's been easy to fake since Abby left him at the airport, and with a home that wasn't quite his, and an uneasy feeling in his heart that she wasn't coming back. It's been easy to fake since he was sixteen years old, and Maddie was leaving and-

Maddie, Abby, Tommy, Eddie.

People leave, and that's okay, and it's selfish to force them to stay. No matter how much he wished they would choose to stay.

Buck scoops out a glob of dough and drops it onto his pan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, bud, I'm gonna have a beer while you finish with...that."

Buck sets up the mixer to bake a cake after he puts the cookies in the oven.

---

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and spirals.

The goodbye wave feels robotic, despite knowing that Eddie will be back in a week, even if it's just to start packing up his life to move it hours away. His phone sits in the dock on the dash, and Buck-

Buck doesn't have anything to distract himself from the yawning emptiness inside him.

Nothing to put his mind to, nothing to focus on, just a whole lot of nothing.

The nothing that has been eating away at every positive thought and coping skill he'd put into trying to ignore how much he missed Tommy. The way Tommy would rub his arm and pull him in for a hug when he was feeling low. How Tommy would sarcastically tease him when his anxiety spiked, until Buck couldn't even remember he'd been anxious. How they could sit in silence and not have to chat, and it was just peaceful, and it put Buck at ease, and Tommy wouldn't even mention when Buck's leg started tapping, he'd just put a hand on Buck's knee and lean his weight into-

Fuck.

Tommy would have been a rock through this, platitudes about Eddie not being dead, stop panicking. "I can fly a helicopter, babe, just say the word and you can visit."

Except, Tommy isn't his rock anymore. He's a hurricane that has Buck unmoored and swirling in an abyss of panic and loneliness and, fuck, shit, fuck, Buck has to talk to someone. Or bake something. Or go to the middle of nowhere, with no reception, and scream at the sky.

Everyone's busy. Eddie's on a plane. No-one...he has-

"Buck?"

Buck jolts, staring down at the phone now in his hand, Tommy's face filling the screen, his nose scrunched and looking confused, concerned and cold all in one expression.

So closed off.

"I-I didn't mean to call," Buck whispers, his voice weak and thready even to his own ears. "Hi. Uh, I'll just, uh, hang up."

Except Buck doesn't, he stares at Tommy and feels his heart stutter.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, and Buck watches the cold melt off Tommy's face, leaving only confusion and concern.

"What's happening, Buck?"

"I...just dropped Eddie off at the airport, and I'm sitting at the drop off spot in the taxi ranks, and-"

Tommy's confusion disappears, and his eyes soften, and he's openly concerned and it's like a knife in Buck's chest.

Buck lets out a hoarse laugh. "I've held it in for weeks, not calling, and my best friend leaves and it's like I can't help it- Jesus." Buck runs a hand down his face, he feels like a mess.

"Why did you call me, Buck?"

Because it was habit for six months straight, because every time Buck's been sad since the breakup he's had to physically remove himself from his phone to stop himself from calling Tommy, because Buck just wants to have Tommy as his, and he can't seem to move on despite everyone else seeming able to.

"Everyone else...is moving forward, making families and living their lives, but I'm-"

Buck should hang up, forget about this, say 'sorry, bye asshole', and block Tommy's number once and for all.

Except-

"I'm stuck, stuck on that day in my loft, wondering what happened and how that occurred, and all I've wanted since the day it happened was to call you and fix it or-or, I don't know...I just feel so incomplete here. Unsatisfied. Nothing-nothing makes sense."

Buck rolls on.

"And Eddie told me not to call, so I didn't, except then Eddie decided he wanted to move to Texas and I couldn't be selfish and ask him to stay, so instead I've been helping him, helping him leave my life, because then at least I helped control it."

Buck chokes up.

"Because he's an adult with different priorities, and he can make his own decisions and it's my job as a friend to support him, and I guess you'd know that too if you still talked to him, or hey, maybe he would have stayed for you." He's fucking it up, finally got Tommy on the phone and rather than giving Tommy all the reasons they could work, and he should stay, he's dumping all his fears about Eddie leaving. "And I- I'm not making sense, I'm all over the place, this is not what I wanted to say at all, I had a whole speech about how I love you, and I deserved better, and-"

"Are you safe to drive?" Tommy asks, his voice cutting through Buck's monologue.

Buck bites his lip and nods his head. Of course, Tommy doesn't want to hear about his problems, they're broken up.

"Yeah, yeah, I..." Buck sniffs, wipes at his face despite it being dry, and forces a smile on his face. "I'm just a little sad, sorry for calling."

Tommy shakes his head, and he looks like he's in physical pain, and God, Buck feels like an asshole. He's so selfish, and he should have just thrown his phone out and got a new number after the breakup if he knew he was just going to trample over boundaries.

"No, don't be s- I mean, okay, okay. This sounds like- Eddie left? No, this is a conversation for in person," Tommy sounds just as confused and lost as Buck, which isn't nice, because Buck expects Tommy to be a rock, to be steady, to be- well, that went out the window the night they broke up.

"In person?" Buck wonders aloud.

Tommy hums, and his nose scrunches up, and he puts a finger to the bridge of his nose. The video feed is shaking like the phone in his hand is shaking. Buck swallows and waits for whatever emotional turmoil Tommy is experiencing to pass.

"Drive yourself to mine," Tommy orders.

Buck stares at the screen in shock. "W-What? Tommy, I- no, I-" A taxi starts honking their horn behind him.

"Mine," Tommy repeats, sure, and despite everything it makes that emptiness in Buck feel a little smaller, like Tommy is filling it with just the promise of a conversation. "Sounds like you need to get going. See you soon, Evan."

Tommy hangs up, and Buck spirals, but he starts the car anyway and drives to Tommy's with a spark of something in his chest.

[lime202]

A name turning from a curse to a blessing.

[gentrychild]

(Anyone!) What are the casts mains in HeroKart or whatever its called (or MarioKart for AFO since HeroKart is clearly a ripoff)

Izuku: All Might

Shouto: Gang Orca

Kurogiri: Eraserhead

Nagisa: Ryukyu

Hawks: Miruko

Dabi: Eraserhead when Kurogiri isn't here, Miruko if Hawks isn't here but Kurogiri is, Gang Orca if Shouto isn't here but Kurogiri and Hawks are, and Kamui Woods when everyone is here and he has no choice.

AFO: Peach (she is the one with the most money)

[gauloiseblue]

I'm Only Flesh and Blood

(König × Reader)

[Dead dove: do not eat | MDNI]

TW: rape, non-con, imprisonment, death, violence, overall dark theme

(I don't know why, but this song just resonates with the story, not because of the lyrics, but the way he sings it.)

You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You didn't realize there was a war on the horizon, before it all fell down upon the city.

Between the rumbles and the upstanding pillar, you coughed as the dust surrounded you.

You screamed for help, as the shattered walls trapped you in, leaving no space for you to move. You did it over and over again, until your throat scratched. Yet no one came to rescue, no one heard you scream.

When the night fell, you curled up your body, trying to find warmth in the harsh structures. There's no light that could reach your place, you only knew if it's daylight when the temperature rose up slightly, although it soon blurred as you lost track of time.

You were starving, your lips were cracked and split open. You thought you'd die like this, until you heard a heavy stomp of a boot.

There was a sound of a man shouting above you, and a heavy thud soon followed. You didn't have the energy to speak, as you watched a little light come through the rubbles. One by one, the wreckages were lifted, and you winced at the glaring light upon you.

There's a shout, and more shouts followed after in a language you didn't understand. You covered your eyes to see a soldier stretched his hand to you. Just like a fool, you reached up to him.

The event that unfolded between the rescue and the medical help was fuzzy in your memory. What you knew was, you woke up in a cold room, with men in uniform by your bed.

They asked you your name, and basic questions that you weakly answered. After they wrote it all down, you heard them mumble the word 'foreigner'.

"Where am I?" You asked them with a hoarse voice.

"Hospital." One of them said, before they both left the room.

Your brows furrowed, as you sensed something's off, but can't pinpoint what it was.

When the doctor declared you've made a full recovery, you were immediately brought to a different building. The man took you to an office, where a hunched figure in a mask sat at the desk.

He shooed your escort with a wave, and he left the room without a sound. Leaving you with the big man.

"What's your name?" He asked with a strange accent.

"(Name)." You responded.

"They said you're not from here." He stood up, and you witnessed the full glory of his height, "Visiting?"

You slowly nodded, nothing to add.

He shot you a sneer, as he walked closer to you, "You didn't know there was a conflict?"

"No," You lowered your head, "I thought it was safe."

You saw his polished boots as he stood in front of you, before he lifted up your chin so you'd face him.

"You're lucky you're inside the ruin, you know." He began to speak with malice slowly dripped out of his mouth, "Your kin were mostly dead or imprisoned. The women were raped, and the men were skinned alive. But you're still alive. You must be lucky."

The grip on your jaw became harder, and you whimpered, both from fear and the pain.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He let go of your face, and you immediately took a step back with your legs trembling. Your gaze was down, and you couldn't see the smile on his face. He walked past you, and you heard the door open, before a soldier took your hand and led you through the hallway.

In the other room, you met several girls with the same expression as yours—scared, confused, unsettled. You stood beside one of them, and watched as the soldier left.

The girl turned to you, asking your name.

"It's (Name)."

"Oh." She responded, "Where were you from?"

You told her the name of your hometown. "You?"

"I lived in the neighboring country." She smiled, "I'm Nina by the way, nice to meet you."

You returned the gesture.

"Do you know why we're here?" You asked.

"I'm not sure." She said as she rubbed her neck, "But I overheard the soldiers referring to us as flowers, I'm not sure what that means."

"Flowers?"

"Pretty flowers, in fact." She clarified, "One of them even said exotic ones. I just hoped it's not what I think it is."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the conversation was interrupted by the opening door.

There's a man striding from the door, and stopping on his track to see the people in the room. He scanned them one by one, before he turned to the soldier on his side.

"Which one is the Colonel's girl?"

The soldier looked at you, before leaning in to whisper.

"Hmm," He let out a displeased grunt, "Well, take her away then. There's no point in choosing her when she's off the list."

The soldier said something to him, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care, take her away."

He pressed his lips together before he nodded.

"Come." He said to you, and Nina immediately grabbed your hand.

"Don't go." Her eyes were wide as she told you, and you were alerted by the fear in her face. But you didn't have the time to process it, as the man ripped you away from her, dragging you out of the room.

"No—" You tried to protest, "Let me go."

He stayed silent, while his hand was planted on your arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"None of your business."

"It's my business to know."

"Shut up."

The two of you arrived outside, where he quickly called a car to the lobby. As the car parked, he opened the rear door and shoved you inside.

The door was already closed by the time you shouted at him.

The whole ride was silent, as you bit your nail, trying to make sense of the situation. You tried to look out the window, figuring out where the driver's taking you. Though you found nothing, not a single clue.

It took perhaps 15 minutes before the car parked in front of a house—a big house, in fact. At the front door, you met another man in military uniform. He didn't say much as he let you in, before locking the door behind.

It took a minute for you to process what happened, before you knocked on the door, asking why you're here. Again, you received no answer.

Deciding it's not worth the time, you began to roam around to find a way out.

It's a two-story house, with a big dining hall and equally big kitchen. It has a study room, and a meeting room right beside it, the two rooms were connected by a door. They looked like they've been used recently.

Upstairs, you found the bedrooms, as well as the bathrooms. There's a door leading to a balcony, but it was locked.

When you came back to the first floor, you tried your luck in the study room. It was full of papers, and you skimmed over it. But it's all written in a language you didn't understand, so you decided to move to the drawers. But as you bent down to reach the handle, you heard an unmistakable voice coming from the door.

"Don't touch that."

You lifted your head to see the same man you met in the office. He was leaning on the frame with his arms folded, watching you intently behind the mask.

"Curious, aren't you?"

You looked down to avoid his stare, "I'm sorry."

He took the time to examine your face, before he spoke, "I was planning to take you home with me, but it seems like my lieutenant sent you away without my permission."

"What do you want?" You asked him through gritted teeth, "You're not planning to send me back home, aren't you?"

He smirked, "Clever thing." He said, "Do you really wish to know that?"

You kept your glare at him as he explained.

"You see, you're still officially missing, and it's not our job to report every single person we found." He walked toward the bookshelves with his hands on his back and his chin up, "So if we found someone, it's our right to keep them."

He pulled a file from the shelves, and threw it onto the table.

"It's yours." He told you, "Go on and read it."

You looked at him with disdain, before you flipped the file open. There, you found all of your private information—the copy of your and your parents' IDs, your bank accounts, and detailed information about your background. Although it's written in German, you knew it from the written dates and a few familiar names.

"Do you understand now?" He spoke in a low tone, "You have no choice."

He left the room as you froze on the spot, unable to bring yourself together. The soldier by the front door took you to a bedroom and locked the door behind as ordered. Leaving you alone, at a loss.

You stared blankly at the window, and took notice how it's screwed shut. Even if you were to break the glass, it's already lined with railing. The same applied to the small window above the toilet, and you saw no possible way out in the bathroom too.

Maybe you could open it with something, something that resembles a screwdriver.

When the sun had set, you heard the lock turned, before the soldier entered with a tray and a jug of water. He set them down on the nightstand, before leaving without a word once again.

You looked at the food, and you had no appetite despite your stomach growl. You didn't touch the plate, but filled up the glass with water. That was it, that's your dinner for that day

At night, you couldn't sleep. You could hear the clock ticking, reminding you that you're still here. Pretty much alive.

20 minutes past midnight—you knew it from the toll of the grandfather clock outside—you caught the sound of the door opening, then closing. It came from the room beside you, the master bedroom.

That night, he spared you from the dreadful ordeal of sleeping together. But your luck was running thin after the third day of your stay.

You were laying on your bed with your thoughts, before the door of your bedroom opened. Your blood ran cold, as you heard a heavy step entering the room, and went towards your place.

The blanket rustled, as the man slipped inside. He settled into the bed, before pulling you into his chest.

Your heart beat hard against your chest, and you began to feel yourself sweating. You knew Fortuna frowned at you when he slid his hand under your neck, pressing his fingers on your pulse.

"You're still awake, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip, and slowed down your breathing. All was an useless attempt to calm you down.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you tonight."

You took a sharp breath as you caught the meaning of it. It made him chuckle, as he buried his face into your nape.

"But if you try something funny, I can't guarantee that to you."

Your body turned cold when the words left his mouth, to the point that you stayed still, petrified by the threat.

He did keep his promise, as he fell asleep right by your side. Perhaps if you're a bit braver, you could lift his hand and escape that night, but his words hung on your head, as if it's a guillotine that'd fall on you if you moved an inch.

You didn't sleep that night. Drowsiness only came to you after hearing the birds singing, signaling the first arrival of the sunray. And you were too tired to notice the way he stirred, as it went closer to his waking hour.

In the afternoon, you found yourself alone in bed, with the door locked, and the breakfast on the table.

You survived that night, but it didn't mean you'd make it on the other days.

Unfortunately, it came sooner than you prayed.

It was your fault, you were careless. You thought he wouldn't pay any mind to a missing cutlery, but he did.

At the dinner, he asked you to accompany him at the dining table, and you sat there, blissfully unaware of the impending torture.

As you chewed the tender steak, he announced his concern about the lack of butter knife in the dishwasher.

You stopped at your track, as your body tensed up. The meat stayed in your mouth, as your throat tightened up, closing your chance to swallow.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He asked with a cold glare, "Did you think I'm stupid?"

You kept your gaze to the plate, as the alarm blared in your head.

"Answer me!" He slammed his fist on the table, and you flinched away in fear. The reaction caused you to choke, forcing you to cough out the meat into the napkin.

"I'm sorry." You whimpered, while gripping your hand so it would stop shaking. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought the time had stopped for you. Until you heard the chair moved, and he stood by the table.

"Hands on the table." He retorted, and your body obeyed him without delay.

You jumped when he threw away your plate, sending it and the cutleries to the floor as it shattered upon the contact. You began to feel unsteady, as the panic was rising from your chest.

He stood behind you, and you trembled as you heard the sound of a zipper.

That was the day you found that he'd use sex as a punishment.

He made sure that it hurts, and left you bleeding, he'd render your legs useless by bruising your hip and insides, as he rammed his cock against your core. You screamed at him, begging him to stop, but he kept going until he ripped the orgasm out of you. By the time he finished, you're entirely spent, as you curled up on the floor.

In daze, you felt yourself being picked up, before laid down on the mattress. Leaving you wondering about it in the morning.

He was cruel, but he took you to the bedroom instead of leaving you. He was merciless, but he bothered to put a few medicines on your tray.

You didn't understand him, and you didn't like it one bit. You had a hunch that it couldn't be that simple—that he felt guilty, or he felt the need to take care of you.

To your disdain, he continued to do it for weeks. He helped you up, and gave you the medicines every morning. He kept it as a routine, until you could stand on your feet again.

While your body's recovered, the phantom pain still throbbed between your legs. Reminding you of the consequences for your misbehavior.

The memory of it kept you in line, as you unconsciously complied with his demands.

That was, until his demand became more outrageous.

It seemed that he was testing you—putting you through unnecessary trials of whether you would obey him or not. He'd put a choker on you. He'd ask you to get on your knees, and put your head on his lap. He'd tell you to sing, while his finger slipped inside your panties. He'd place you on his desk, and told you to spread your legs while he watched you pleasure yourself. He'd force you to watch an erotica without your pants on, so you'd leave a stain on your chair. He didn't ask for sex, but what he requested was way more improper, to the point that you felt dirtier after doing it.

And he seemed to be pleased by it, he delighted in your humiliation.

He also got off on your fear.

He'd play a cat and mouse game with you, and he'd scream threats that'd set you running. He knew you're scared of him, and he used it to his advantage. And when he caught you, you'd be forced on your knees as he shoved his cock into your mouth.

You're aware that there'd be an escalation from the moment he declared he'd take care of you, but you weren't prepared for the level of depravity he possessed.

The way he'd threaten you with sex, and soothe you with aftercare, it was too much.

One day, you sobbed as you begged him to end it all, with your tears running down your face. But he just sneered as he rubbed his member against your clit, forcing you to watch as your body trembled when you came for the fifth time.

There were times when it's all quiet, when he was wrapped up in his work. Those were the times where you could gather your thoughts, and planned for a possible escape.

You knew about his gun collections in the study room, you just needed the bullet. You couldn't really escape through the front door, except when it's night. So you began to devise a plan.

In the back of your mind, your rationality told you it's impossible; that even if you killed him, his affiliates would catch you so easily. You have nowhere to go. But you shoved it back into the water, as your feeling thrashed inside your chest. You need to go. You need to get away from him.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you found out the answer to your plan.

He hosted a house party with all of the soldiers. Some of them were recruits, and some of them looked like they're on the same level as him, judging by the presence of a pretty partner on their side.

You were given the role of a quiet escort, and you were allowed to leave his side only when he told you so. You wrapped your hand around his arm, as he greeted his guests.

The last friend of his came a little later, and your eyes were widened as you saw a familiar face. It was Nina.

She looked thinner compared to the last time you saw her. Her eyes were hollow, and her face was pale, with the exclusion of the red mark on her cheek.

You had the chance to talk to her when they all sat at the dining table. While the men were talking over brunch, you made your way to her and stood beside her.

She was quiet, and you doubted that she heard you, but it only lasted for a moment before she muttered out I'm fine.

"He slapped me this morning because I forgot to brew his coffee." Her lips trembled as she spoke, "But he told me to prepare everything for the party last night, of course I'd forget it."

Your brows furrowed with sympathy, as she continued her snivel, "I should've felt grateful that he only slapped me. The other girls—the other girls got it worse. But I—everything I did was wrong in his eyes. I don't—I'm so sick of it."

She quietly sobbed, and you took the initiative to pull her aside, guiding her to the restroom.

In there, you got the full length of her story.

The man who took him treated her as a housemaid, but never addressed her as such. He'd shout at her constantly, and he'd shove her face against the counter, forcing her to look at the little dust spot she missed. At night, he'd force himself upon her, with little to no preparation. And when she tried to escape one time, he brought home the head of her mother. The only family she had left.

You didn't know what to feel, but you could see that she got it worse than anyone.

You tried to soothe her, but you knew the wound was larger than you could stitch. It could never be healed.

As you both returned to the dining room, you found the table empty, as the men had already moved to his study room.

And your heart triumphed when you saw the key in his hand, as he opened the locked drawer to fetch something vital for your escape.

The bullets.

You watched him as he slipped them one by one into the old revolver. You burned the image of it in your head—the silver, big barreled revolver.

He then invited everyone in the room to walk with him, with the intent of showing a demonstration.

"This thing is a beauty, a wild horse," He remarked as he exhibited the firearm, "You need to learn to tame it before you ride it, or she'll kick you off the mount."

The men laughed, as some of them added an equally filthy joke. He chuckled before turning his body and stretching his arm to aim at the target.

There was an apple on the fence, on the far side of the garden. And the red fruit stood still, before it exploded as his gun went off with a bang.

The men cheered, applauding the magnificent show that you couldn't understand. Why did they praise it? Wasn't a gun supposed to do that?

You didn't have the time to ruminate, as you heard your friend whisper under her breath.

"He loves you."

The chatter from the men almost drowned her voice entirely, that you had to double-check your hearing.

"What?" You asked her.

She turned her face towards you, and a tear rolled down on her cheek. The sight of her stunned you, as she reached to touch your cheek.

"He never took his eyes off you." She muttered as she leaned closer to you. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought you felt her lips brush against yours, as she pulled you into a kiss. And you almost taste the wine in her tongue, until a sharp shrill flew past you with an incredible speed. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, with her body slumped against you.

You sat there, watching the open side of her head as it dripped dark fluid into your dress. It was warm, and slowly seeped through the fabric, spilling over your thighs.

You didn't know who was screaming.

You couldn't remember how long exactly before they removed her body from you. The party must be over since the men took you to your room, leaving you alone as you sank into your chair. Your hands couldn't stop shaking, as you saw them stained with red.

What happened to your dress? It was supposed to be white, wasn't it?

You stared at your knees, as the image of her head was still fresh in your mind. You felt your vision narrowed, as if you watched yourself through the third eye. You weren't there, you were still on the ground, with your friend's head on your lap.

The door was opened, but you didn't notice it. You didn't notice any presence, before a hand softly landed on your shoulder.

You jumped out from your chair, almost shouted for the second time, if not for his embrace.

It caught you off guard, and you began to sob against his chest. You couldn't help it, it was the only comfort you had, even though you knew that he had removed every other hand just so you'd choose him.

"Don't be sorry." He gently lulled you, "She brought it upon herself."

He removed the bloodied dress from you, before turning away to fetch a wet towel. You didn't have the energy to fight him, moreover to lift your finger. So you let him clean the blood off your face, and off your body.

You didn't resist when he put the fresh clothes on you, and he guided you to the bed, letting your head fall onto the pillow. He didn't do much and left the room without a word.

On the bed, you let your mind wander to your friend—her hollow stare, the gaping wound in her heart, you should've known it. There's a quiet anger in you, as well as a deep sense of loss. She used you as a means to end her pain, but she had no other choice. She had nothing left.

For days, you asked yourself if it's the only way for her, or if you could help her, reach out to her just a little further. But what came back was an echo, since she was already an empty shell long before you could help her.

You were angry at yourself, angry at him, angry at the man who took her. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you were powerless.

He was smart enough not to bother you, since you'd erupt at any given moment. But he'd snap at you if you crossed the line, and you'd end up with tears, as you bit your lips shut.

You don't know what to do with this anger, you still don't know the answer to this day.

While you have the plan ready, you haven't chosen the execution date. You need to be close enough to him to take the key, but you're still repulsed by him.

A week has passed by, and you find the courage to close the distance between you and him. You begin to join him for dinner, and keep him company in his study room.

That's when you start to see the crack.

There's a time gap where you can carry out the plan, at least the first plan. When he comes home, he usually leaves his things unattended at dinner time. You would have the freedom to roam, and you could sneak into his room for a short time. You once made sure which pocket that had the key in, and did a double-take a few days later. When you're certain of it, you move to the gun collections. You had memorized the revolver, so it didn't take long before you found it.

With that in mind, you're ready at any time.

You maintain a good facade in front of him, as you wait for the moment to strike.

The chance comes to you one night, when he decides to postpone the dinner. He has to talk with someone outside, and leaves his things on the dining table.

The window of time will be short, since the time it takes for him to finish will be uncertain. But you take it nevertheless.

You don't waste any time as you pull the key from his vest's pocket, and march toward the study room.

Adrenaline rushes through your body, and you're shaking as you take the revolver off the padded wall. You then turn your heel as you approach the desk, sliding the key with difficulties, before unlocking the drawer.

Alas, you run out of time.

You hear the front door close, and a heavy step echoes through the house. You hold your breath as you slide the cylinder release, and take a few bullets in your hand.

"Mäuse?" Your panic rises as you hear his call, with trembling hands, you try to push the bullets into the cylinder. Alas, one of them falls to the floor.

The noise must've alerted him, as the sound of his step turns into a heavy bolt.

You only manage to put two bullets in, before slapping the cylinder shut and aim at the door, right at the same time as his arrival.

He stops in his tracks when he sees you inside, with the gun in your hands.

"Don't come any closer!" You shouted a warning at him, though you couldn't hide the quiver in your voice.

He stands by the door, with his face unreadable, as it hides behind the mask. You pull the hammer, while your finger rests on the trigger. You're ready to shoot, he knows it from your stance.

He sighs, shaking his head in disapproval, "I gave you time, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't—don't move." You tried to warn him once again, "I'll shoot if you move."

"Can you even shoot me with those hands?" He leered at you, taunting you with his words, "You won't hit any target if you keep shaking."

He catches you off guard as he storms the room, forcing you to pull the trigger.

The bullet hit his shoulder, and he shouts in pain. The shot you released enrages him, as he pulls a sledgehammer from his side.

You don't have the time to aim as you shoot the second bullet, and it flies past him, leaving him unharmed.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as the hammer slams onto the desk, causing the wood to crack upon impact.

The revolver quickly dropped as you fled to the connecting door, escaping the place through the next room.

You run towards the front door, trying to push the handle, but it won't budge. You hear him coming, and jump to the side, narrowly escaping his hammer of rage as it punches through the door, sending the broken pieces everywhere.

"YOU COME BACK HERE!" His voice boomed through the house, and you could almost feel the floor shaking.

You dash to upstairs, and push your bedroom door open, before locking it just in time.

Still, it can't protect you from him.

You watch in horror as the door shakes and fills the room with the cracking sounds, before it flies open by force.

And there he is, standing at your door like a nightmare.

You can't do anything except running away from him, running to the corner where you'll certainly meet your demise.

And you lift your arms and brace for the impact. You can see the hammer coming to you from the corner of your eye, and you cry out when it strikes.

It's all silence, before a quiet sob falls from your mouth.

His hammer crashed on the wall, just an inch away from your head, showering you with dust and smashed fragments.

Your body slides down to the floor, as your legs give up. You continue to weep, while he lifts up the hammer, and tosses it to the ground.

"Are you done?" He retorted harshly, and you shrunk away from him.

He yanks your hand away, and throws you to the floor. You yelp when he sits on top of you, pushing your face down to the ground.

"Should I treat you badly so you'd learn to appreciate what I did for you?"

"You took my freedom away." You hissed through your tears, "You kept me in here so you could play me like a toy."

"But I took care of you, didn't I?" He growled, "I never asked you to clean the house, you didn't even have to cook for yourself. What more could you ask for?"

You flinch at his tone. You've seen him angry a few times, but never this angry.

"Do you want a toy of your own?" He asked, voice dripping with bitterness. Your eyes snap open, as the phantom pain throbs in your hip. "I can certainly give you one."

"No…" Your lips quivered as he slipped his fingers under your clothes, "No, no! Stop!"

You tried to kick him away, do anything to get away from this monstrous man.

"Get away from me!" You screamed at him, but he ignored you as he ripped your clothes off. "Please! I'm sorry—"

"It's too late for that, don't you think?" He laughed when you tried to crawl away, while he undid his belt.

You cry out when you feel the head of his cock poking against your core, before he slowly pushes it inside.

It was excruciating, as he stretched you open with a force. He groans as your walls clamp around his member, as if repelling him from entering.

He snakes his arm around your shoulders, as he pulls you close until his chest is flush against your back. A bitter tang of iron hits your nose, reminding you of your own mistake. He hisses when you grab him on the place near the wound.

"Don't think you can escape me, (Name)." He snaps his hip against you, and you throw your head back, eyes tightly shut. "Not even in your death."

You scream when he buries himself completely, stuffing himself to the hilt, until you feel yourself full.

The pain comes back to you, as you feel your core burning. He makes it worse by feeding it frictions, as he begins to pump himself in and out. He tosses his mask aside, before he marks you with his bites. He sinks his teeth onto your neck and shoulder, before he lifts you by your chin, and crashes his lips against yours.

It was bitter, full of teeth. His kiss tasted like rage, and the jealousy he held since your friend stole it from him.

You cough from the lack of air, and fall down on the floor. The mixed saliva in your mouth drips down to your chin, and he runs his thumb to wipe it off.

He bends down to kiss you once again, and you whimper when you find yourself growing wetter against your will. The resistance from your walls becomes lesser, and he can easily slide his member in.

"You know, Mäuse," He mused as his hips moved like a piston, "I'm only flesh and blood, but I can be a good father."

He keeps his arm around your body, as you struggle against him.

"I can buy you a big house, taking care of our little ones." He covers your mouth when you begin to voice your protests, "As long as you're with me."

Your hand starts to flail around, trying to hit his wound, but it's out of your reach.

"I'll make you my wife, and we'll live together as a couple." He said with a smile, but through your eyes, it was a madman's grin. "You just have to be good, and I'll treat you as such."

His cock brushes against the spot that made your moan, and he keeps hitting it until your back arches, as you turn limp in his arms.

He soon follows after you, as his cum spills into your womb, filling you up to the brim. You gasp when his arms tighten around you, as his cock twitches inside your core. A sense of dread hits you as you feel his cock doesn't get any softer.

"I think you'll make a great mother." You heard him murmur, before he pressed his lips against your temple.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Rank

@jegulus-microfic May 21, Word count 396

Previous part First part

Remus’s hands had healed within days of the last moon. His Lycanthropy gave him accelerated healing abilities. James hadn’t had the heart to tell Regulus his potions would be useless this month as he’d loved watching him at his simmering cauldrons as he researched anything and everything that could help Remus. 

“Oh— Er— Thank you.” Remus had stuttered when Regulus pushed the numerous potions into his hands. Sirius had snickered at the stunned look on Remus’s face. 

“Aww, Moony, I think he likes you.” Sirius cooed as he plucked one of the vials from Remus’s hands. “What’s this?” He asked Regulus, holding up the unfamiliar potion. He uncorked it and gave it a tentative sniff. “Hmmm, not as rank as I thought it was going to be.” 

Regulus squirmed a bit shyly at James’s side. James wrapped an arm around Regulus’s waist, grounding him. 

“It’s a calmer for his skin,” He told them. 

“I don’t recognise it,” Remus said, peering at the bottle as well. 

“It’s my own concoction. I tested it a few times and tweaked it until it was right. That's why it took so long. It should help with your healing scars, make them less noticeable quicker.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Peter responded. He looked around at his quiet friends. “Well it is.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said earnestly to Regulus. “No, I mean it. Thank you.” Regulus let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.  Sirius looked between the two.

“So, on a scale between 1 and 10, how likely are you to leave me for my brother?” He asked jokingly. James reflexively tightened his grip on Regulus. Remus smirked. 

“Oh, it’s a solid ten,” He winked at Regulus. James looked down at the boy in his arms and saw that mischievous look on his face. Oh, Regulus was enjoying this. 

“Looks like I’ve almost got the whole collection. Only Pettigrew to go.” Regulus snickered back, reaching out and pulling Remus closer. 

“No offence or anything, but no thanks.” Peter took a step away from the little group. Remus burst out laughing. It was beautiful and carefree, it had been a while since James had seen that laugh. 

“Go put your potions away, Moony. It’s time for Hoggy Warty Hogwarts.” Sirius exclaimed. James felt the thrill of anticipation shoot through him. He couldn’t wait for the chaos that was about to ensue.     

Next part

[asocial-skye]

i know that the college-era timeline had to end poorly because we need the drama of it, but i would've loved to see everyone inform past im sol that sun-jae was her boyfriend after old im sol left back to present day.

and if i'm being really indulgent, cue kim tae-sung and baek in-hyuk not being to handle sun-jae's pining ass and decide to go on a mission to 'recover her memory.'

[pokeberry5]

your tim is soooooooo beautiful i can’t stop looking at him 😍

do you have any good tim whump fic recs? like the classic comm cuts out when he’s in trouble or really anything

(thank you!! im glad u like my tim art)

(in reference to this, where i mentioned liking whump fics where tim ends up on the ropes alone and his comm cuts out)

i was digging through my reading history to try to find some recs and it seems??? i may have extrapolated fics based on what i wanted to read rip

i did still put some fic recs together! but these are slightly to the left of your original requests. i'm gonna put them in order of relevancy. broad warning to please read the tags on all of these

Little Pig, Little Pig, Let Me In by nierembergia

tim's on the line with damian when suddenly a harmless-seeming interaction at a gala turns sinister (wip)

buy the ticket, take the ride

wherein tim is attempting to deal with things on his own after finding himself alone in vegas, at some point calls jason to "consult" him about blood spatters, and then has to hang up on him because he's getting shot at

the days of theft (no more) by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

gen omegaverse, jason takes tim and in the process snaps the bond between bruce and tim. including this one because the pack bond snapping between bruce and tim has, to me, the same emotional impact of a comm getting caught (wip)

Into the Brighter Night by shoalsea

the set up of this fic is tim manipulating the bats into following a plan he misrepresented and then purposefully going dark, although the majority of the fic deals with the interpersonal fallout of tim's actions (complete)

children of the stars by Scarlet_Ribbons

jason takes tim in because jack drake's a piece of shit and ends up doing his own growing in the process. not sure how to explain why i'm including this without spoiling it, but there is a Big Moment later in the fic that to me is equivalent to tim purposely cutting his comms off to deal with a situation himself (wip)

Call to a Lonely Earth by Drag0nst0rm

in the midst of brucequest, tim ends up on an earth where there are no longer any children and bruce has lost both his sons. i'm mostly including this one because i like it a lot, but—mild spoiler—tim does make a call explaining what he presents as a hopeless situation that he can't be saved from and then hangs up! (first fic is complete but sequel isn't)

also, while it doesn't quite have the same emotional force of what i was looking for, detective comics (1940) #698-99 is where i originally got the idea from and it does feature protective dick and alvin draper!

[iceman-soup]

amab masc!reader x bot!price

Sure, he's your superior, but if Price gets you that hard whenever he calls you "sir," then who are you to deny him some role reversal?

And yeah, maybe you both realised it was a thing by accident, when he sarcastically said "yes, sir," just to be a little bitch, but the way you blushed and had to adjust your trousers certainly didn't go unnoticed, and it's not really his fault that he had to call you into his office later anyway. I mean, he could've avoided teasing you, calling you "sir" even then, but what's the fun in that?

Especially when it ended up with him pressed against the wall, one hand over his mouth to muffle his moans as you fuck him senseless, leaving hickeys high enough on his neck to be visible whatever he's wearing, pulling his hand away to hear his cute little begs and whimpers as he wanks himself off as best he can whilst you pound into him.

Breathing heavy when he calls you "captain," even though you're nowhere near that rank. His hole clenching around your dick, milking your cum from it and making him fall into you when you loosen your grip on him. Whining that he's not cum yet, pouting when you take his hands and pin them up against the wall again.

"Please, Captain, sir," he sobs, hips bucking against nothing, desperate for friction. When you reach a hand down, light touches to his cock to tease him, he cries out a far too loud "please," forcing you to shut him up with your mouth, sharing kisses as you move your hand up and down til he cums all over it, his teeth biting your lip as he moans out a final "sir," whimpering and leaning into you tiredly.

[dubylou-draws]

Preview of a gigantic Japanese woodblock print- style KNY fanart I'm currently working on.

This is going to take an unholy amount of time to colour in, so... here's a WIP for now 😅

Expect to see the finished piece posted here at some point- and the backstory/ historical inspiration that goes with it, too!

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says it’s my turn on the writing

Clyde was certain if it had a heart, it would be pounding like a wardrum.

It stalked through the halls of the asylum, leaving a bloody trail behind it. It was never one to pass up on a good snack, and the pure rage it felt after what happened left them with an insatiable bloodlust. Winfrey shared the same hunger after being stuffed into a tiny room for what must have felt like an eternity.

Winfrey, it’s partner, it’s missing piece. It had been waiting so long to break them out of this hellhole. This was not how it planned on this going, being shot and dragged into this place without a proper escape plan, but it could improvise.

Worry still gnawed at the back of its mind. Alex. Would they be ok without it? Would they be taken in, beaten down until they break? Dissected to find out what makes them tick? Not if it could help it.

This place would be rubble by the time it and Winfey were done.

——————————————————————

Alex looked down at the man beneath them, the last of his ragged breath stuttering to a stop. Alex looked down in disgust, before turning to look at their hand. Solid claws, not dripping in the slightest, with a purple eye blinking back at them. The crowbar was slightly bent from the sheer force they were gripping it with.

They caught a glimpse of their reflection in the CCRT monitors lining the walls. Crooked yellows eyes, inhuman teeth, curved horns and green wings looked back at them. They barely recognized their own reflection.

A full veldigun looked back at them, not whatever state in between human and velidgun they were when they left the barn. They looked down for a moment, before adjusting their glasses to their new eyes.

Simon was getting the patients out, but their were still two people Alex needed to go find.

——————————————————————

Alarm bells went off in Clyde’s head as it turned the corner. Broken screens lined the hall, and a trail of blood lead down into a darkness so deep, Clyde was halfway convinced its illusions were playing tricks on it.

It went to take a step down the hallway, only for Winfrey to block it with their hand. Clearly, it wasn’t just it a bit nervous about this hallway. It looked up at its partner, sharing a look, before continuing down the hallway, Winfrey close behind.

It followed the trail, ready to maul anyone who got to close to its partner. They had been through enough, and it wouldn’t hesitate to rip apart anyone who tried to drag them away from it again.

A flickering CCRT lit up the end of the hall, half covered by the silhouette of someone clearly not human, if the horns and wings were anything to go by. A growl built in Clyde’s throat, and it prepared to lunge on the unfamiliar veldigun.

They turned around at the sound, gripping something in their hands. But instead of preparing for an attack, the stranger looked, relieved? Happy? They looked-

They looked like Clyde when it had seen Winfey again for the first time.

“Clyde?” They said,

Using the voice of that madman

Any peace they could have wanted was immediately shattered the instant they used that voice. Winfrey growled, and Clyde prepared and attack.

It was strange hearing so much emotion in that voice. Where had they even gotten it?

“Clyde please it’s me” they said in desperation. Clyde took a step back in confusion. Who was this Velidgun anyway? Clyde looked them over. Purple eyes in their hair, crooked green horns, inky black claws gripping a crowbar.

It couldn’t be-

“Alex?”

The veldigun, no, Alex took a step closer, but Clyde was faster. It raced at its human, no, it’s fellow veldigun, and threw its arms around them. Alex dropped the crowbar and returned the embrace.

They sat like that for what felt like an eternity

“I missed you”

“Me too Clyde”

[the-silmarillioning]

Prince Thranduil son of Oropher on patrol duty in the forest of Greenwood