#like the necromancer soap au on here

[fixfoxnox]

Someone: Here is my fic idea! So Soap and Ghost are together and Roach is ghosts dead fia-

Me, immeditely:

[natelia-aldelliz]

Some toddler au drawings because I couldn't stop myself

Featuring :

Kyle "the outside world is scary don't you dare put me down or worse, give me to the weird moustache man" Garrick,

Nik- "ahah I'm now both our children's favourite dad" -olai (do we even know his last name?)

Jonathan "😭😭😭" Price

Simon "side foot walking autism representation instead of toe-walking bc I very very rarely see it and it's what I do, also he's just a baby and he breaks my heart and I want to hug him really badly" Riley

John "nice frog, anyway, I think I'm about to jump into this puddle, and I'm not gonna do anything to stop it, even while knowing perfectly well that I am gonna cry about my socks being wet right after" MacTavish

and finally, Gary "do I show the weird moustache man my frog or do I put it in my mouth?" Sanderson.

And none of them have shoes because they all hate them and get rid of them as soon as the adults try to put them on. (Simon didn't, but he started crying silently as soon as they were on so they took them off immediately)

[heylittleriotact]

WIP Wednesday (except it’s not)

I was tagged by @emmg

I’m having weird writer’s block and am struggling reaaaally hard with concentrating on things for any length of time right now. I blame the state of the world. I dunno. I would like it to go away so I can go back to hyperfixating on sexualizing an old necromancer in horny peace.

I’m still getting over strep and can’t organize myself to tag people, so if you want to share your current WIP please do, and tag me! I want to see!!

Anyway, here’s my WIP of Chapter 4 of my Emmrook vampire AU. Amina wakes up the morning after dying, snuggled up cozily in bed with Emmrich, and feeling relatively fine - she’s just really fucking hungry.

The optimistic trill of a blackbird roused her, eyes snapping open at the sound that pulled her from her slumber: had Emmrich left the window open and some poor bird had found itself trapped in the room?

It sang again, effervescent and bright, greeting the dawn eagerly.

Amina craned her neck: the thick curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the dim sunlight that outlined them - there was no breeze or movement to indicate a window had been left open.

The blackbird’s song continued as though it was perched on the headboard of their bed.

Grunting sleepily, she let her head fall back to the pillow and snuggled back into Emmrich again, returning to the comfort of a dozy, early morning heap of warm limbs and messy hair.

He was still soundly asleep, snoring softly, deep breaths falling from his slightly open mouth. She hugged his arms to her and kissed the back of his hand as he slumbered, turning over thoughts of a terrible nightmare in her mind.

It had to have been a nightmare, right?

Her stomach rumbled in the dark, scraping its talons against the lining of her stomach beseechingly.

Ignoring it, she flipped over and draped her leg over Emmrich’s thigh, nuzzling into his neck and the warmth there. Inhaling deeply, she made a low noise in the back of her throat: he smelled divine. Had he always smelled this good? Of course he used expensive soaps and boasted an exquisite collection of fragrances and colognes: she’d never known Emmrich to smell anything but deliberately nice, but…

She swallowed the saliva that pooled in her mouth, and placed her nose against the side of his neck again, inhaling deeply.

Ohhhh…

Arousal flickered to life between her thighs, warming her further when his scent ripped through her again - olfactory decadence that coaxed a questioning whimper from her: aniseed and wet leather, something clean but complex not unlike petrichor but different - darker; and a salty, coppery tang that brought to mind echoes of vanilla and sex that made her mouth water even more.

He was hard, his cock pressing against her lower belly. Washe dreaming of her? Dreaming of fucking her passionately, uttering filthy words and vulgar poetry into her ears as he so often loved to do?

The blackbird’s morning song became a distant annoyance as the sound of blood rushing filled her ears instead, and she undulated gently against her beloved, revelling in the feeling of his familiar bare skin against hers.

She filled herself with his scent again, feeling somewhat ashamed of how utterly aroused she was by it. Not understanding why.

The urge to wake him was difficult to resist: they could make sweet gentle love, quiet and languid as they twined under the sheets, limbs curling around one another and spreading like graceful tendrils of ivy as it grew over stone, silent but for their shared breath and sleepy gasps of pleasure…

Her lips found smooth, heated skin and the hypnotizing pulse that dwelled there - she felt it pulsating against her tender kiss, and she moaned softly when her tongue flicked against him, her mouth filling with moisture again as she tasted that same enchanting aroma on her tongue.

She sat back on her knees for a moment to shift her hair over her shoulder before returning to his neck, fully intending to kiss her fiancé awake before treating him to a warm, cozy orgasm to start his day.

Her tongue darted past her lips to moisten them absent-mindedly and she flinched, letting out a small cry and lifting her hand reflexively to the sharp pain radiating from her mouth. She felt the familiar sensation of blood beading and dripping down her fingers, over the back of her hand, and heard it pattering against the bedspread.

Drip, drip, drip…

“Ow… fuck…”

She frowned into the darkness, and sucked her lower lip into her mouth, drawing away the blood oozing from the reasonably deep laceration that had appeared there.

“Darling?”

Emmrich had woken, and he stirred tiredly beside her, a large, comforting hand skimming up her thigh and her abdomen until it found her wrist. “Are you all right?”

“I… yes. I just… I think my lip is bleeding…”

She could make out the shift of his features in the dark; brow furrowing as he slid up onto an elbow and the candles on the bedside table blinked to life with a gesture.

“Let me see…” he muttered, voice still thick and raspy with sleep.

She leaned closer as he sat up, bathing her face in the dim orange candlelight so Emmrich could examine the hurt. “See?” She prompted, opening her mouth as his hands drew near so he could get a clear view of the injury.

Emmrich let out a yelp and yanked his hands away, the fear in his eyes piercing Amina’s soul deeper than any weapon ever could as he recoiled from her.

“What?!” She demanded, panic finding her. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away, but managed to collect himself enough to sit forward again, his thumb meeting her upper lip as slid it up over her teeth on one side of her mouth, then the other.

He swore softly - a reaction that did absolutely nothing to calm Amina.

“Emmrich!” She snapped.

“Er… hmm…” His eyes darted from side to side rapidly as he seemed to decide the best course of action. Then he grabbed her hand and maneuvered her index finger, guiding it towards her mouth.

The soft fleshy tip of it landed against the smooth, hard surface of her cuspid. Still looking baffled and uneasy, Emmrich slowly and carefully moved the finger down the tooth - far further than it would normally go - and then very delicately prodded the pad of her finger against the point, which felt razor sharp against Amina’s flesh - honed and deadly, and very unlike the shape that particular tooth had been for the entirety of her life until this point.

She let out a clipped scream and brought her other hand up to her mouth, feeling the other tooth - it was similarly distorted under her touch, bizarrely long and just as pointed as the other.

No, no, no… last night was a dream. A nightmare. And besides, my teeth were fine when I’d gone to sleep…

Bolting from the bed, Amina tore out of their room and down the hallway to the bathroom, her feet slapping through puddles of water that lingered. She hurtled into the still humid room and turned left to face the extravagant vanity built into the wall on that side of the room, and screamed again: a blood curdling shriek that reverberated off the walls.

Emmrich appeared at the threshold, sliding into the bathroom, redirecting his momentum with a hand on the doorframe and embracing her as she stared into the large mirror, mouth agape, confused tears flooding her eyes.

“I - I don’t… I d-don’t—” She raised a shaking hand and waved at herself in the mirror. Her face crumpled in anguish and she looked to Emmrich pleadingly with her eerie eyes and fanged mouth. “Emmrich, wh-why can’t I see myself in the m-mirror?”

He did a double take as he glanced from her to the looking glass, then back again, evidently seeing the same thing as she: only himself, naked and at an utter loss for words.

Amina sank to her knees, suddenly aware of the cold that was rapidly stealing back into her bones. Hugging herself as she cried, rocking back and forth, she tried desperately to make sense of what was happening to her: dead was one thing, but fangs where her teeth used to be, and the unexpected departure of her own reflection was too much. She could only bear so much…

Perhaps it was for the best that she couldn’t see herself - she surely looked like a monster if her teeth were as long and sharp as they felt…

Emmrich had seen fit not to waste his breath trying to assure her it was all going to be all right. Instead, he pulled his dressing gown from a hook on the wall and draped it around her naked form, securing it in place before picking her up again.

He carried her back down the hall as she wept, silent and grim.

Their soft feather bed met her back when he placed her down, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, sitting beside her and looking into her eyes, her hand in his.

“I know that this is very frightening for you, darling,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now, but we’re going to suss this out together, yes? Now take a deep breath - you can do it.”

“Why the fuck would I need to breathe, Emmrich? I’m dead!”

The sentiment was delivered with the same air of desperate and indignant mortification that ruled her currently. Her world was one of sheer confusion, and the inability to comprehend.

“There’s no need for such language, darling!” Emmrich blustered, looking affronted. “I’m only trying to help!”

“How can you help?!” She bleated. “You don’t even know what’s happening to me! Fangs, Emmrich - I have fangs!! I’m an aberration! I��m… I’m transforming into that… that thing!” She tried to sit up but Emmrich pushed her back down on the bed. She needed to run. Needed to get away from the Necropolis - away from everyone. She went to sit up again, only to be forcibly returned to the surface of the bed. “Emmrich, please!” Tears crashed down her face: why didn’t he understand?!

“Amina. Stop.”

He gripped her tightly by the upper arms, his elbows braced on either side of her to keep her from scarpering. His nose was inches from hers, and his eyes were intense and grave. The dark shadow of the dusting of morning stubble over his jaw added to his intensity and emphasized the serious set of his mouth as his eyes burned into hers.

“You need to calm yourself,” he instructed. “This is undeniably a mess, and I’m terrified as well, but we won’t get anywhere by panicking and falling apart, will we? You are not alone in this, dear. Now do as I say, and take a deep breath.”

Eyes shut tight, she obeyed - forcing a clattering breath into her hollow lungs, fighting against every instinct she had to flee. Her stomach protested its emptiness again, painfully contorting on itself.

“I’m so hungry, Emmrich,” she groused, sounding annoying and whiny to her own ears, but it couldn’t be ignored any longer: she was beginning to feel faint.

“Stay here - I will bring you something.”

The tone it was delivered in made it clear there would be no negotiating.

He vanished from her side and she sagged into the mattress.

[twistedroseytoesy]

My twst master list!

master list for ease of finding stuff since I plan to have lots to share!

RULES

Heartslabyul

Heartslabyul monster AU

Heartslabyul AU art!

Painting the roses red

Riddle is the queen of broken hearts

mrs. Rosehearts knows best (p1)

this life is mine! (p2)

Caters happy face

Ace the troublemaker

The best of Deuce

Savanaclaw

Savanaclaw monster AU

Savanaclaw AU art!

The lion sleeps today

can you feel the love tonight?

Be prepared

here comes trouble (ruggie overblot au)

Savanaclaw x quokka reader

Octavinelle

Octavinelle masterlist!

Scarabia

Scarabia monster AU

Scarabia AU art!

let me love you Jamil

Infinity with Jamil

Jamils darkside

Kalim's sunshine, lollipops and rainbows!

Pomefiore

Pomefiore monster AU

Pomefiore AU art!

The washing song

Vil's lament evermore

pretty girl vil

who does mc like?!

epels bad reputation

Rooks a ghost

Pomefiore x reader who uses a 3 in 1 soap

Rook and vil hearing reader sing bombshell blond

Ignihyde

Ignihyde monster AU

Ignihyde AU art!

Diasomnia

Diasomnia monster AU

Diasomnia AU art!

Skumps

Malleus’s snowman

Love like you, Malleus

Lilia's life is a highway

never smile at a crocodile

once upon silvers dream

Diasomnia + octavinelle x immortal jellyfish mer-reader

All

Monster AU stuff

Monster AU heights

Friends on the other side Disney mash up

Types of weather they are

one jump ahead of the chaos

you’ve got a friend in me Disney mash up

Staff + others

Staff monster AU

Monster AU art part 1 (Grim, Trein, Crewel)

Monster AU art part 2 (Sam, Vargas, Crowley)

Vargas!

Crewel de Vil

The Haunted Mansion

Treins soft kitty

clubs/ specific groups

new years with the light music club!

Light music club at the VDC

three caballeros

VDC carpe diem

Oveblot gang x super tall reader

Non-humans with reaper leviathan mer-reader

DnD and twist!

nonhuman characters with a lizardfolk reader

First years with a dwarf reader

necromancer with scarabia and vil

my own stuff

My twst oc’s

song suggestion ask

The prefectsbride

What I thought of them at first and what I think of them now

dumb ways to die twst version

Tsum tsum mayhem

Tsum tsum Rosa!

[ironhoshi]

For the prompt! 10!!!!

Eons later~!

10- What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!

I decided to hurl my newest au idea at you and I have no regrets. Enjoy this chaos below the cut. 

“And that makes two,” he drawled out.

⭐

Most people were asleep at 2 in the morning, but Cal had given up on a sleep schedule a long time ago. He was tired, sure, but he was also well fueled by canned coffee. He clinked his nearly empty can against one laying on his desk. 

The few people watching his stream voiced concern about his coffee habit. It was sweet. They cared. He grinned sheepishly before setting the almost empty can down. Drinking coffee kept him focused. Plus, he had pointed out several times to his followers, he did sleep. He knew his limits on coffee. Honest. 

MerrinIsGod: your moms are going to kill you.

Cal snorted and reached up to adjust his headset so it sat a little more comfortably over his ears. “You going to tell them?” His question was teasing, but he knew they would. Merrin and Trilla often joked about grounding him. 

MerrinIsGod: maybe :3 

“Good to know. Now, I’m thinking...time for some Diablo 3, play my necromancer.” As he spoke he started to boot up the online feature. “Most people are asleep right now unless they are on the other side of the Earth- hello other side- so might not hurt to do public. Full disclaimer; you’ll end up on my stream.” Cal fiddled with the settings a bit and gave a sort of nod to himself. 

Open lobby. Anyone could join, but he could kick unwanted players.

Perfect.

The screen loaded and it was less than a second later his screen flashed. A new hero has joined your party. The creatures of Sancturay grow stronger. That was freakishly fast. 

“Welcome to the game- I’m streaming…” Cal frowned and leaned closer to his monitor. “...no fu- I mean duck- no ducking way.”

Mando.

MidBoss6: CAL! YOU MADE A FRIEND! OMG IT WORKED.

“Why are you in my game? I mean not that you can’t be, but don’t you normally play with LordFett...not that I know.”

His chat suddenly started getting a little too active. Screennames he didn’t recognize started appearing. What was going on? 

What worked? He hadn’t done anything to get Mando to play with him-

“I was up, someone said you were playing,” a voice crackled through his headset. Oh, yeah, that was really Mando. Wait, had his followers gone onto Mando’s channel and asked him to join Cal? That...he was going to have to tell them not to do that.

SisterFollower69: ask him about LordFett! You know you want to!

“Happy stream,” he bit out and ignored the way laughter was filling his headset. Shit, no, he needed to like kick Mando- 

“Okay, stop,” he breathed out. “I am just here to play-”

And then it happened. Trilla stormed into his room, holding a basket of clean clothes. Cal spun in his chair with wide eyes thanks to the basket being dropped next to him. “What the fuck did you do to all my clothes?” 

“Fine, what the duck did you do to all my clothes?” 

“I washed them like you asked?”

Trilla stared at him, hands on her hips, and he could just feel that she was judging him. Well, clearly he had messed something up. The next video he did with her was going to hurt, he just knew it. 

“I wish LordFett was here,” the voice drawled out in his ears. “He’d see how much alike you two are.” 

“Listen here, Scrap Rat.” Trilla leaned forward slightly as she narrowed her eyes. Mando’s laughter wasn’t going away and the chat was pinging nonstop. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him? “You are supposed to separate the colors and wash on cold! All of my white things are now pink.”

“It’s a nice color,” he offered up unhelpfully. “Also, it was on cold! I think. I used the laundry soap-” 

“Yeah, no, one gamer I admire watching me get yelled at is enough, thanks,” he responded without thinking. Trilla’s eyes widened and she glanced towards the monitor. A slow smile grew on her face. That wasn’t good. 

“Mando,” she addressed the stream. “Tell LordFett that Cal will make a horrible house husband, but he can pick him up tomorrow at 3-”

“Wait, no, stop-” Cal tried to spin around to reach for his keyboard to stop the stream, but Trilla managed to block his movements. “I just wanted to play Diablo!” 

“Hey, whoa, let’s not-” Cal didn’t get to finish his protest because Mando interrupted.

“Too bad,” Trilla clicked a few keys on the keyboard. “Sorry, Mando, people that follow this idiot for some reason, he has to spend his time helping me online shop now-”

SisterFollower69: Live stream shopping? We can judge the clothes he picks???

“I think that sounds fun.” 

“Cal...BD does not need a custom cat tree!” 

“But Diablo-” Trilla shoved him slightly on the seat and maneuvered herself to sit on one of his legs, taking over control of the mouse. She yanked up his browser to pull up her favorite shop and froze. Oh, not good!

“I can explain,” he wheezed out while trying to slap her hands away from the keyboard. 

He was never living this down.

[natelia-aldelliz]

More ghost! Roach - Accidental Necromancer Soap AU : little moments

141 in the middle of a briefing, when suddenly Soap gasps, interrupting Price. Everyone turns to look at him and he looks back like a deer in headlights, apologises with a stammered excuse, something like he saw a spider or something, and the meeting continues with dubious looks.

"You're so bad at that," Roach giggles from where he's floating around above the table. "It wasn't even that big of a news, they were flirting for months! I have way worse, you know one of the Corporals under your command, the redhead one? She's been secretely married for years to the medic lady that stitched you up last week! Stop gaping at me, where's your pokerface oh my god-"

And then Soap uses all that information to win bets against Gaz.

Or also, Roach telling jokes while there's people around Soap. "Don't laugh," he taunts him. "Don't even smile or they'll know you're crazier than they think."

And then he tells the worst joke ever and Soap can't help the snort that escapes him and again, everyone turns to look at him.

"I can't believe you're laughing in a room full of explosives tied to people," Roach gasps, knowing full well that's exactly the result he wanted.

Soap rolls his eyes at him quickly and focuses back on defusing. He'll get him back when they're alone and he doesn't look weird talking to the air.

"He knows you find him hot, he's neither blind nor stupid," Roach says, peeking above Ghost's shoulder. "If you want him to blush you need to call him 'pretty'. Worked every time..."

And he's right. When Soap tells Ghost he's a bonnie lad, explains what it means, it's very obvious how flustered he becomes, and the visible part of the bridge of his nose gets very red.

"Be ready to be grabbed at every opportunity, his love language is physical touch but he'd rather die than admit it."

Roach has a bit of a poltergeist moment when he finds out he can touch things again. Cups go flying into walls, chairs move around, shoes disappear. Roach is very overwhelmed and gets non verbal, which is a bit hard because Soap only knows the basics of BSL and has to ask Ghost to translate by copying live what Roach is saying. (Ghost, who has seen the ghost of his dead lover save his life just a day before objects started flying, recognising in the back of his mind the quirks of Roach's way of signing being reproduced by Soap, but not willing to believe yet)

It lasts a few days and the whole base is convinced they're haunted by a ghost. They're not wrong, Soap wants to say. And not only one, but the others are far more apathetic, barely there.

Then Roach calms down, all at once, when he realises that maybe... maybe he can touch people too. He's very nervous. It's been years since he touched someone, years of his hand going through Ghost's arm as he tried to make him see him. Years of not feeling the warmth of a living being.

That scares him. What if he can touch Soap, but he doesn't feel anything? What if it feels the same as the glasses he's been trying to juggle for days?

So he waits until Soap is asleep and he holds out his finger, slowly, hands trembling, and presses it softly to Soap's forehead. He's... He's warm, he realises with a gasp. He's warm!

Soap wakes up to sobbing and soft fingers on his cheeks and in his hair. He gets reassured very quickly that it's happy sobbing and Roach kisses him.

Ghost, after learning about the ghosts existence, starts having really bad nightmares every night. Has to be reassured that no, he's not actually a ghost. He hasn't actually died in that grave, he's here, he's warm and he's alive and loved.

[natelia-aldelliz]

This is complaining time because I've got a headache and I feel like I deserve to complain 😌

It's the most annoying thing when you're writing in your second language and about a culture that you know the bare minimum of, because I'd go to google to search how to say this or that word in Scots and most of the results will either be "you probably meant Scottish Gaelic silly, here's how to say it in scottish gaelic 🥰" which mmmmmmmmh 🙂🙃🙂 fuck you google or worse : "Aww here's your results about the funny Scottish accent that for some reason people seem to think is a separate language from English entirely" which makes me wanna stab people 😀

Thankfully I've found a dictionary, so that's one less problem

And then there's the "oh no I forgot how to say this word in English, ok, I'll just have to translate it from my first language..... I forgot how to say it in my own language as well......" which is the biggest reason my werewolf fic is not finished yet, btw, because it makes me agonise over random words for hours... And I can't even find a synonym and look for synonyms of that word to find the original word I wanted because my word association is ✨weird✨ apparently

And now my biggest problem for my necromancer Soap au is about the culture, so if anyone has any sources on west central Scotland folklore, regarding folk medicine, specifically how they call women who take your pain away by touching you, I only find 'healer' when I search for it but it seems awfully broad and non poetic, in french they're called 'coupeurs de feu', which literally means 'people that cut fire' (implied : away from you), here the fire means the burning sensation of the pain, not necessarily a burn.