#fic: TLOA

[bignostalgias]

gee Astrid, how come you get to have THREE girlfriends

TLOA Astriana by @alkalinefrog! ⚔️✨

+ heathstrid doodle

[alkalinefrog]

The Lights of Avalon

The Legend of King Arthur is Jackson Overland’s favourite fairytale to tell the children in his village—and he wishes it had stayed just that. But Jack’s world is changed forever when he is deemed worthy of the Legendary Sword Excalibur, should he choose to accept it. Darkness threatens the land, and its people will need a hero. And although Excalibur’s powers are great, so too is the cost of wielding it—so much so that Jack would rather become a traveling bard who spends his days running as far away as possible. Little does he know, on the road to avoiding his destiny, Jack will only meet it—or rather, him.

WOOOO hi everyone, long time no see! I’m super stoked to say that I’ve been writing a Hijack Arthuriana AU and the first two chapters are up now! This is the prologue comic!

Special thanks to @jjackfrost for beta-ing and @twiafom for clowning! This wouldn't have been possible without you guys cheering me on the whole way!

The link’s in the title or you can click over here!

I hope you guys have as much fun reading it as I am writing it! More to come!

[ddostoyevskyy]

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍❞

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄: The Act Of Judgement!

Ranpo Edogawa

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, double meaning words/sentences.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 613.

SERIES MASTERLIST

There’s something that a person with no money and no connections could not afford, something unreachable and ignorant. A privilege that only those whose rich can achieve. Something a person can do violence and anything. Justice. Something that even me, a child came from violence and sexual assault couldn’t even reach. It’s only a word with seven letters, yet it holds such power to ruin a life, to ruin one’s dreams and beliefs. And, Justice, as a dream that can turn into a nightmare.

The power that it holds were unmatched. It took me some time to be able to reach this privilege, to be able to taste the success and a smell of terrible end of journey just to see a new beginning in life. The pain I went thru just to reach my dream to fight for justice and serve for the people is something I cannot ever forget.

I became a subject of knowledge, a prisoner — chained up and locked away from the expectations. I was born to gaze at the harsh reality of the world and a harsh grasp of a man that has me wrapped around his fingers; I couldn’t escape him, I couldn’t run away from him, I couldn’t do anything as I was maneuvered as a puppet subject. I was trained to be enourmous and something dangerous — although, not like a certain someone he raised as a killing machine, I am more.... special as he says while he has my fragile jaw between his hand in a tight grip.

My ability was made from chemicals — my ability was made by my own father, an alchemist, a scientist.

I could only survive in the wrath of injections and chemicals with the help of the beeping machines and apparatus on my body. I am not made of machine, although I was supported by it — I knew, I am not something inhumane; what they did to me as a child is what in out of the world. I was slapped by the harsh reality of people with gifted abilities and how the world works with children and women. The power imbalance of both gender is what makes me nauseous.

The knowledge I held is something out of the world. Common sense is what I hate, people being oblivious and ignorant is what I despised. Lastly, people whose justice are not yet served is what I fight for.

I was trained to be intelligent. I was trained to be a tool for manipulation. Although, I managed to escape him, the scars left on my mind and the traces of my father’s experiments is something that was imprinted in my very being — all in while tainted my life as a human.

I was told to be wary of people’s behaviors. I could tell their lies and sincerity, the flaws within their words that oppose with their actions. I was told to be watchful and observant. The only way to find the truth for revelations, even though it’ll hurt — even though it’ll ruin me, as well.

I was born to fight for justice, to serve people and to prove one’s innocence or guilt in the eyes of a judge. I was born to fight in my own battlefield; the trial court — to fight for the victims and punish the criminals with my own gun; the raw evidence — that only those who deserved to be pointed at the head are shot thru their skull.

I am not born to kill, yet my hands are already tainted blood before I became one with justice.

Most people fell in love with proffesionals, but I fell in love with justice — justice I’ll call a certain detective.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2023 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[mqfx]

bats my big impish eyes at you: 18?

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

HEY MY FAVORITE NUMBER (i loooove 1 and 8 [white and purple] when they're together. my otp of numbers, next to 5 and 7 [blue and orange]). anyway let's see i'll have to dig in my docs for this one. here's some from slrs chapter 6 during the flashback

you may be thinking "well that's not very interesting" well yes that's why they got cut :p and as a bonus, now something from the CUTTING ROOM FLOOR of my current fic outline:

^^ decided not to make mq NERF HIMSELF that would be ooc

[scary-grace]

ok let's do this!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

thanks to @tinnurin for the tag!

The experience of awakening from stasis depends strongly on the skill of the individual supervising the process. (x)

“Present Mic? Sir?” The doctor looks unhappy, probably because Present Mic wasn’t really listening, but Mic’s been through enough meetings like this to know what he’s going to hear already. (x)

LittleMissSigrid: we’re fucked. (x)

Bard’s been seeing Thranduil for a year and change, and he’s known about Thranduil’s real job for the vast majority of that year, but every time he steps into the romance novel section of a bookstore, he’s shocked all over again by the sheer number of titles with Thranduil’s alias printed on the spines. (x)

There are rules about taking calls from parents on personal cell phones, but the school hasn’t given Shōta a cell phone, and he’s not waiting around at school for parents to make their weekly check-in calls. (x)

The day Bard’s twin sister discovered her soulmate was never going to be the happiest day of Bard’s life, for a whole host of reasons. (x)

“Well, that’s everything sorted out,” the real estate agent says. (x)

Every so often Bard thinks about the pile of his school papers his mother saved, his drawings and homework assignments and report cards. (x)

Hizashi hurries down the steps from the train station, moving just a little too fast for the small hand grasping his to keep up. (x)

The night is cold and dark, and the makeshift tent not nearly enough to keep out the wind and snow; Thorin fumbles for flint and striker in the blackness, cursing the clumsiness of his hands. (x)

tagging @dogblessyoutascha @lonelyheartsmotel @corndog-patrol @rainbowvamp @herawell @pomgore and anybody else who's interested!

[alkalinefrog]

AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ THE STORM, THEIR SOFT SMILING EXPRESSIONS AS JACK GIVES HIM THE HAT I'M 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DRAWING THIS AAAAAHHHH

I think it suits you more

chapter 8 from The Lights of Avalon by @alkalinefrog :)

[perfectlyfrosty]

Why do all the great hijack fics all have an ‘a’ and an ‘o’ in the abbreviation… like we got OtNWaS, TRoaS, TLoA, TFoA… and umm Translations (im counting this), ((Maces and Talons))?? im sensing a pattern here

Edit: just started reading Soul of a Druid lmao, the list keeps on going

(I just realised both jack and hiccup also have an ‘a’ and an ‘o’ in their names….! Hmmmmm coincidence i think not????) (This conspiracy theory goes crazy)

Edit 2: i found two more what the fuck

[radibe5]

Wait, you write fanfiction? What's your ao3? Have you written for dbh/tloa or something else (this anime conan that I know nothing about but what you post)?

a little!!! i want to write more but i lost my confidence lol. i mostly have a bunch of unposted snippets on various devices of stories i wanted to do.

but i do have a couple posted ones on my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_frog though they are all not dbh so far 😔 so far it's undertale, conan, and avatar. but i do want to get to some dbh fics to post! i just don't have the characters down solidly enough for me to feel comfortable writing more than a snippet yet...

also, what's "tloa"? i keep reading it as "the last of airbender" (avatar) lmao

[bignostalgias]

moments from chapter 7 of @alkalinefrog ’s fic The Lights of Avalon that make me grin at my phone like a dork

(design ref from Alka’s Astriana piece and Hiccup’s disguise from @the-bubbles-tm ’s fantastic post here)

+ bonus Astrid being wlw because what’s new

[alkalinefrog]

OH MY GOD IT'S HIMMMM 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ You absolutely NAILED this dude, the costume is exactly what I imagined, and I love the detail you put into his tattoos since they were super vague in my mind! Also THE LIKENESS TO HUGH JACKMAN IS SO GOOD, YOU CAPTURED HIS ESSENCE LMFAO. Thank you SO SO MUCH for drawing this, I'm so glad you like the fic so far!!! 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

While I definitely plan on drawing more fanart for @alkalinefrog ‘s fic “The Lights of Avalon”, when they said “I can’t imagine Human!Bunny as anything other than Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine in a bard costume” that made me laugh SO HARD and I IMMEDIATELY had to draw exactly that.

So have Human!Bunny as Hugh Jackman in a bard costume :D

I definitely want to draw Tooth and Sandy in their outfits too, thats gonna be fun, but this NEEDED to be drawn.

[ddostoyevskyy]

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍❞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈: The Hell of Mirrors, 𝐈𝐈!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... dark content; multiple mental disorders, heavy manipulation, experiments, child abuse, murders.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... There’s a graphic description of (Name) being or having a “pale” complexion, but that doesn't mean it has to be the skin color. But, I apologized if the description is like that and will try my best to make this story as imaginable as it can be. Thank you. If you want an early updates from this series, you can find me on Wattpad @ddostoyevskyy, here’s the link of TLOA on Wattpad.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 1.832k

SERIES MASTERLIST.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄, 𝐈, 𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐕, 𝐕, 𝐕𝐈

— Did he go made after taking a glance at himself reflected by a completely spherical mirror? Or did he slowly lose his sanity after suddenly discovering that he was trapped inside his horrible, round glass coffin—together with “that” reflection?

When Ranpo blinked his emerald eyes, reflecting through the mirror and the brightness of the light in the room as though to be blinded by the artificial light, his lips fell opened, speechless and unmoving as he stared at a young girl — much smaller and thinner with pale complexion, hollowed cheeks, dark eyes that resembles a black hole of emptiness. In the marble floor, there’s broken dolls and shards of broken glass as though it was used to break those dolls. Broken like her.

His shoes screeched on the floor when the small girl moved, flinching where he’s standing. There’s a chain on her neck, scalding her skin that turned red to purple, the heavy metal clacks as she moves with dried blood on her small hands, some of the crimson blood dripping on the floor.

When the door burst open, it pushed pass his body as though he is a ghost — as he proposed that he is in this timeline whilst invading the consciousness of your mind — your hollowed eyes were staring right through him like you can see him; as if he exist. A man in a lab coat closed the door behind him as he stand close to the wall, careful and cautious at the way your small hands grip a shard of a broken glass.

Perhaps, the dried blood and the fresh ones trickling on your skin were a product of those men wearing white you’ve killed — as Mister Fukuchi stated your killing spree; or perhaps, this is one of your forgotten memories that he’s to witness, your bloodbath; the one they named The Mastermind. Ranpo felt his whole body run cold when you pointed on his direction.

“What is it, (Name)?” The man in the white spoke up as he swings his head to the same direction, seeing no one; perhaps, maybe Ranpo does exist in your imagination; or you saw someone that wasn’t exactly him, yet your hallucinations brought Ranpo the speculations that he indeed exist in your mind in this timeline.

“He’s here... again.” Your small voice; raspy and thick, like you’ve been screaming and crying for such a long time as tears flooded on your visions, yet your expression hasn’t change much.

“Who? Can you describe him for me, please?” The doctor whipped out a clipboard on his back with a pen, still his back against the board. He finally walk towards you, slowly but surely, until you’re not showing any signs of aggression; the doctor, walks forward as he reached for the shards of glass in your hands. You voluntarily lets go, fingers unclasping without any signs of pain even though the skin of your palms were opening on the flesh. The doctor whips out a bandage on his pocket, reaching for the tray on the left of the bed’s table to grab the betadine. “Can I have your hand, please?”

The man was surprisingly patient with you, carefully jabbing your wounds with cotton and working to close and stop the bleeding with the bandages he wrapped around your palm to your wrist. Your eyes were wet with tears that aren’t stopping to flow on your cheeks like the smell of blood dripping on the wall. Your eyes were still set on Ranpo as he stood there staring back at you.

“Now, tell me, (Name). Can you describe him now?”

“I... can’t,” Your voice were raspier as though you’ve been whispering the whole time, “He has no face... there’s only... a shadow.”

The man’s face look a little delight that you’ve finally talked, his lips parted as he wrote down on the clipboard. Your eyes shadowed over the light, a mimic of the light conquering the dark as you casted your head down to stare at your bandaged palms.

“You are aware of your mental situation, right? You have multiple disorders that you barely show any signs, though. Was it the effect of your ability? Don’t you think, your ability wasn’t really meant for killing?”

“Do you think I haven’t thought of that, either?” You answered, playing with your fingertips as you lifted up your head to stare at the man in front of you with empty expression written on your face. It wasn’t long enough for the man to show his true colors as his face hardened, the grip he had on his clipboard tightened before his arms raised upwards until a force of impact hit your head, forcing your eyes to blurred and mouth agape, yet no sound of pain escaped.

“Do you know how many of our men have lost because of you?! This — your stupid excuse of mental health issues gave you such privelege to be excused of what you did! Because, you’re a goddamn child!”

There’s a defeaning silence, followed by another sounds of skull cracking in process when the man used the metal tray on the young girl who kept her head low. The sound of flesh being ripped apart until blood splatters on the wall made Ranpo falters on his feet, knees weakening as he watch how her face stained with blood, the white sheets and white walls became stained with the thick liquid until your body fell on the white marbled floor.

Your hands trembled as your eyes blurred with tears and blood, yet no sounds had been coming out of your voice after those torturous attempt to break your skull. Your eyes flickered on Ranpo’s form again as he gulped, the fourteen year old were frozen on his spot as you stared directly on his soul as though you were asking for help; as if he can help you. In your mind, he was just a mere shadow, a cause of your hallucinations. Your hand reached for him as if he could touch you.

The images of your bloody younger self warped and Ranpo’s visions became hazy before a few scenarios played right before his eyes and he could only breath heavily and pant as his handd trashed around in the air, pushing away those memories of your younger self being locked away in the dark (the thing he hates the most), electrocuted, overdosed, and the physical pain you’ve felt came crashing down on his mind until it all stopped at once.

He huffed a breath, panting and making his heartbeat pace down when he could almost hear it rang through his ears.

Yet, everything of this, they chose to call you a monster.

You were trapped by your own delirium. The monster that they created inside you grow and were trapped in a mirror everytime you look at your reflection, you never saw the beautiful girl hiding behind that monstrosity; you could only see the flames burning in your eyes, the blood that tainted your heart and hands, and the sorrows of a childhood that was taken away from you.

In the mirror, you could see the Hell; the Hell they created and cannot be tamed. The beast that was awakened in a mind of a frail child who lived a normal life of Heaven before it all came crashing down and burned in the pits of Hell.

Perhaps, the both of you had the same tradegy, yet differ in violence, differ in situation — but it was all similar to those people you lose; a parental figures. The two people whose suppose to raise you and nurture you with love and care now gone, leaving you exploring the cruel world with outmost gullibility.

Ranpo still couldn’t understand. The mystery that surrounds you like an enigmatic claim of innocence, but never naíve. The sense of justice and the act of violence you were nurtured in this place where you were raised; in these white walls and white sheets, the blood thickens and staining your reflection in the mirror.

Perhaps, Ranpo is the one who holds the title of gullible between the two of you.

He’s been raised by his parents in a good environment despite their work for the government as a detectives who holds justice between their fingertips. He was never taught; his natural ability to conquer the truth and to detect the lies are the qualities he got from his parents. He’s smart for his age, he believed that all people are fool; a monsters for not identifying the truth — for not viewing the way he perspect the things the way other people do.

And, yet you were just good at hiding the truth beyond that mirror, aren’t you?

When Ranpo’s eyes fluttered open, he found himself in an abandoned place; the city lights twinkled right before his emerald eyes. The familiarity of the place, the scent of medicines and chemicals came crashing down on him as he realized. His feet brought itself here, at the place where hundreds of people died, diagnosed with many mental problems that ended them to kill themselves in the same patterns of facing the mirror.

The same incident that Ranpo’s parents investigated. Before they died in a supposed to be accident.

His whole body run cold as he looks around, before he felt something shifts on his thighs; there you are, your head buried on his thighs as you were still in a deep slumber, or perhaps, still in the consciousness of your childhood where he was suddenly awakened after those constant flashes of your core memories with nothing but pain.

He can’t decide which or how to feel; should he feared you because of what can you do, or should he save you — although, what a mere child like him can do too? Despite his infinite knowledge and capability, what can he do for you? What can he give you? Can he protect you with these monsters they called grown-ups? Despite his infinite knowledge, the doubt had surrounded his mind.

What can he do to protect you from these mirrors of memories you had? Should he forbids you to ever look at the mirror again, so that you won’t see the horrors of memories trapped in your mind, or should he be making you face your own hell of mirrors and let you burn in the back of your mind?

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2023 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[mqfx]

I might end up massively rewriting my very first fic (tloa) for untamed october bc tbh I've been thinking of doing that for a while now

[userlando]

bae did u have a tloa/joel miller phase? ik u wrote for pedro years ago (ur an og) but idk if you had the pedro renaissance that happened a few months ago lol

yeah I had my pedro obsession a few years ago, but I did fall into the trap once again this year 😭 I only wrote one joel fic though, and it’s called first rays of dawn!!

[alkalinefrog]

HI HANNAH HELLO!!!! 🥹❤️

Mending my sins and finally catching up with lights of Avalon!!!1!! @alkalinefrog

I swear kai your characterization of everyone is so perfect and charming UGH it’s like falling in love with them all over again

Huge special shoutout to @bignostalgias for being the bulk of the inspo for their designs! Hic, jack, jame, and em designs are next <3

[neytui]

Anybody got some Hijack fics?? Have read otnwas, tloa and fallen of a snowflake

I do search them but uhhhh... I trust tumblr taste better

[scary-grace]

⭐ for the ask game!

thank you for the ask!

since you didn't specify a fic, and knowing our shared interest in cosmic horror, I'm going to talk a little bit about memories we bury or live by and The Last Of All Suns -- aka, the night land aus!

both of these fics are based on The Night Land by William Hope Hodgson, one of the first cosmic horror novels ever written. what grabbed me about the source material is that it's first and foremost a story about love and grief, set on a timescale that truly wrecks my mind to consider (for an example of what I'm talking about, check out journey to the end of time on YouTube). in addition, the titular Night Land is what remains of Earth, long after humanity's made some unspecified fatal mistake that led to the death of the sun and ushered in the horrors. the battle for Earth has already been lost for millions of years by the time the story begins.

the setting is both literally and figuratively dark, and part of the fun is ratcheting up the eldritch creepiness of it all. but the main draw for me is messing around with the idea of memory as a gift and a burden, and the enormous effort it takes to continue to hope in the face of loss. In the case of Mic/Hizashi, the narrator of 'memories', the loss is devastating and personal; for Thranduil in TLOAS, the loss is quite literally global -- he's lived through the End of Days, and he's carrying not just his grief for Bard, but his memories of Arda as it was and his knowledge of the survivors' inescapable fates. for Thranduil in particular, there's a lot of imagery of the physical and mental weight of time and memory. although he's lived for millions of years, he's had to spend significant amounts of that time in stasis just so his mind won't snap. An example of sorts from Chapter 2:

Thranduil does not want to talk about this. He does not want to speak of the world-that-was and watch someone else mourn it all over again. He does not want to reveal to someone that their worst mistake is one that they will never have a chance to make right. The burden of memory upon Thranduil is unbearably heavy. He cannot countenance passing it on to someone else. All at once the Instrumentalist’s robe feels stifling, suffocating. Thranduil knows, rationally, that it is the weight and pain of immeasurable time that makes his skin crawl, but he cannot stand another moment hidden beneath a hood.

anyway, those are some of the behind the scenes things about the fic(s)! thank you for giving me a chance to talk about some of the details.

ask me about my fics